Call of Duty - Equestrian Warfare

by ChromeRegios

Rating: teen
Tags: Other, Original Character, Adventure, Crossover, Main 6, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe
Length: 49713

After a Disastrous mission gone wrong, Jackson was left for dead at a nucler explosion when he foundhimself to be the first human... in a whole new world.

While attempting to capture a rogue leader with ties to Russian Ultranationalist rebels, Lieutenant Alberto Vasquez and Sergeant Paul Jackson are ordered to evacuate the city of Basrah before their quarry's forces detonate a stolen nuke. But the warning comes too late and the device explodes, sending their Sea Knight transport spinning out of control and the pair of Marines plummeting to their deaths.

Certain they are dead, the pair come to in a strange new place, a lush land filled with wonderous and sometimes deadly creatures. A place where magic exists, where dragons are real, and the natives are four-legged... and place a surprisingly high premium on friendship. Making their way through this unfamiliar world full of wonder and danger, they soon find they aren't the only things that crossed over. So too did some friends. But so too did the rebels, and the pair soon find that their war has followed them to Equestria and the Call of Duty never ends...

(Ofcourse you know... I dont own Call of Duty)

P.s Please post the sentence where i made a mistake and ill take care of those... please help me make this one a better story than my other ones... please! i beg everypony out there :D :D

Any names mentioned in the story Dead or living are purely coincidencial and clearly made in fiction(Initial Editing and re-writing by Firesight) <<< Thanks! :D

Published 2011-11-30 18:29:55 UTC
Last updated 2017-04-25 11:57:27 UTC

Chapter 1 - Field of Grass

(Episode 1) Chapter 1 - Field of Grass

“Get to the Sea Knight! We’ll hold down these corners. GO!” Lieutenant Vasquez tells Sergeant Paul Jackson while rescuing a downed chopper pilot as they provide cover fire. Jackson struggles to get to the Vietnam-era Marine helicopter transport that’s older than he is, dodging bullets as he goes.

“Lieutenant Vasquez? This is Alpha 2-5. Now would be a good time to get the hell outta here, over!”

“Roger that! We’re on our way!” Vasquez holds the rebels off one last time with a burst from his rifle before jumping in the transport himself.

His relief is short-lived. “Outlaw, this is command! We have a probable nuclear threat in the capital, I repeat, we have a probable nuclear threat in the capital! Proceed to a minimum safe distance until the all clear is given by the NEST team!”

Vasquez feels his guts clench at the announcement. He knows the rebels are fanatical, but he still can scarcely believe they’d nuke their own capital of Basrah just to spite their foes. Best not stay to find out! “Go, go, GO!” he shouts at his remaining team to get in the transport.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, This is your captain speaking. If that report’s right, we’re in for some serious shock and awe! Hang on! Taking evasive action,” the pilot of the Outlaw announce as they fly off to the sky.

“All U.S and allied forces, Be advised. We have a confirmed nuclear threat at the city, NEST team is on site attempting to disarm! I repeat. Th~~” The communications are jammed as a blinding flash announces Armageddon has occurred; a mushroom cloud quickly rising over the center of the city marking the detonation of purloined Russian nuke.

Only a few miles from ground zero, the entire squadron of choppers tries valiantly to stay airborne, only to be caught by the shock wave of the blast and thrown hard through the air. “EVERYONE HANG ON!!!” the pilots call out needlessly over the intercom.

Hit hard by the shock wave, the Sea Knight Jackson is in spins out of control. Near the exit, Lieutenant Voker tries desperately to hang on as the chopper swerves violently but loses his grip and is tossed outside! Jackson holds on for dear life to the hull of the chopper as it crashes to the ground and rolls over several times in the wake of the hellish blast, leaving only a mangled mess of a flying machine.

Then all falls silent until the chopper radio crackles to life again. “This is command… Bravo teams please respond…” a shaky voice sounds over the radio at length.

“We’ve taken major casualties in the main central area… Weasel team is not responding…” a second, equally shaky voice replies.

“A nuclear bomb has gone off in the city center… I repeat, the rebels have detonated a nuclear bomb in the city center!” a third announces what everyone within fifty miles already know.

“Decontamination teams, stand by… attempting search and rescue for survivors in the area. Dispatch Rescue team Alpha 1 on site, over…”

Jackson crawls outside of the wreckage of his downed chopper… somehow alive, but battered and disoriented, covered with bruises and flashburns from the radiant heat of the blast. Still conscious, he looks up to the horizon to see the still-rising mushroom cloud in the distance. In shock, his vision goes blurry and he stumbles to a nearby playground, where he suddenly collapses. Awaiting death, he swears he hears children laughing from somewhere… just as a bright white light appears in front of him. Believing his end has arrived, the light slowly swallows him… and then everything goes black.

Lost somewhere between worlds Jackson has visions of strange beings who talked to him. They are not human, but pastel-hued and walking about on four legs, they can somehow talk. His dream takes him across a field of grass where he stands for quite a while. He looks everywhere but could not see anything or anyone around him but an empty pasture. He wonders where the battlefield went, and as if in answer, he looks up again and sees MiG-29s and AH-1 Cobra Gunships crisscrossing the sky… then a rumble draws his eyes back to ground level where he sees a company of T-72 tanks heading right towards him! He tries to run, tries to find cover only to find that his legs have frozen up just as a tank bears down on him. He is just about to be crushed underneath its muddy treads when a voice calls out to him…

“Jackson?! Sergeant Jackson wake up! Wake up, dammit!” A voice calls out to the Marine Sergeant, who’s still a bit out. Slowly coming to, the veteran NCO wakes up to find himself not in a devastated city, but a field of grass, a pleasantly cool breeze blowing gently against his seared face as he regains consciousness. He slowly rises into a sitting position only to see Lt. Vasquez right beside him.

“Thank God you’re awake! Check this place out!” Vasquez motions around them to the flower-filled field, an idyllic place surrounded by lush hills and mountains and capped with crystal blue sky; a far cry from the desert city they were fighting in.

Jackson scans the place in disbelief, noting there is no trace of the city, of friendly or rebel soldiers, or even that there was ever a battle. In fact, the landscape itself looks far different than the one he was just in, leaving him wondering again if he is in fact dead.

“Command? This is Bravo 6 reporting, Do you copy? Over.” Vasquez radios Command to ask for extraction from their location, but the radio only gives out static throughout the channel.

“COMMAND!! PLEASE RESPOND!” Vasquez shouts again as he can’t get a clear signal, only to finally slam the receiver down in disgust. “DAMN IT! Looks like we’re on our own, Jackson.”

Jackson clutches his rifle more tightly. “Fuck… any idea how we got here, L-T?”

“None! And I haven’t found anyone else but you around these parts…” Vasquez assures him that he was the only survivor he’d seen so far. “The last thing I remember is that we got caught in the nuke blast and crashed. After Outlaw 2-5 went down I think it killed both of our pilots!” He tries to remember how he got here in the first place as he begins to cross the field, seeking cover in a nearby treeline, certain their enemies must still be somewhere nearby. “Oh yeah, and I saw a light heading right through me that time…”

Jackson blinked as he follows his Lieutenant. A light? Just like what I saw before blacking out…

Before he could voice the thought, Vasquez called to him. “Jackson! You might want to check this out…” Vasquez gestures Jackson to come close. Obeying, the sergeant joins his commander to see… another marine lying in the tall grass nearby. Both of them rush towards him, only to find that he is dead.

Vasquez looks at the marine’s dog tags and his lips immediately tighten. “Sgt. Howard… I know him! He was in the 3rd Infantry regiment! Looks like he didn’t make it…” Jackson shook his head and mutters a short prayer for their dead comrade, crossing himself as he does so.

Vasquez spares just a moment to do the same. “Jackson, Grab his ammo and supplies… I don’t know where we are, but there might still be hostiles in this area…”

“Yes sir!” Jackson takes a Ka-Bar combat knife from the body and also the fallen marine’s Beretta M9 9mm Pistol and his M4A2 Assault Rifle, emptying all his ammo patches as well.

Vasquez takes out his M1911 pistol in his holster and released the magazine, which slid out neatly into his waiting hand—their weapons were intact and operational, at least. “I got 10 rifle clips on me. What about you?” Vasquez asks Jackson.

“Just five…” A quick search of the dead marine reveals 15 full magazines for his M-4. That plus the fifteen the pair already possess gives them 900 rounds in thirty clips—enough to take care of any hostiles and fight their way back to base if necessary, both hope.

A quick exchange of magazines evens up their ammo counts. “That should be enough… Can I have your other knife by the way? I lost mine in the crash.” Jackson nods and gives his sheathed hunting Knife to Vasquez, who puts it in his belt as pair head out across the field.

Reaching the nearby woods, Vasquez and Jackson walk through a forest for an hour before settling near a large looking tree which, to Jackson’s eyes almost looks like it has a face in it. Just as they were about to sit down to eat some rations, they hear an animal roar.

Vasquez and Jackson both ready their guns and search for the source of the sound. As they venture near the clearing, they see what appears to be a series of a giant snakes, having cornered what seems to be a small, pastel-hued pony. The soft-hearted Lieutenant thinks to save the poor little thing, so he positions himself and looks at Jackson.

“Jackson, on me… take the one o’clock position. Move!” Vasquez went to the opposite angle at 11 o’clock, placing the snakes in a crossfire that would hopefully not endanger their equine quarry. Upon arrival, he signals Sergeant Jackson to fire at will.

There is series of sharp cracks as their 5.56mm rounds fill the snake heads, and one by one they fall to the ground dead.

The threat ended, the two Marines reload their weapons and cautiously approach the brightly-colored creature, which has fallen over on its side. “Jackson, look at this… have you ever seen a pony like this before?” Vasquez looks at the animal and checks if it’s still alive… quickly seeing it was still breathing, but apparently fainted.

Jackson shakes his head. “If it’s a pony, it’s not like any I’ve ever seen… I mean, look at it… a pink mane and a yellow coat? And check this out…” he motions to its hip. “It has an odd brand in its flank. Are those butterflies?”

Vasquez checks the mare further and discovers that the sergeant is right. “What’s going on here?” the Lieutenant asks his only partner. “None of this makes any sense. Where are we and how did we get here? And what is this… mare?” He doesn’t know what else to call her.

Jackson feels equally befuddled. “No idea, L-T. But I think we should put take shelter and bring her with us, just in case. This is no place for a pony. Maybe we can return her to her owner later,” he suggests, and Vasquez agrees to his idea, carrying the yellow mare to a nearby cave to treat her wounds. The Sergeant cleans her up and bandages the small gash in its leg to prevent infection… then sets her down on a bed of hastily gathered pine boughs near the entrance of the cave. While he tends the mare, Vasquez goes out to get wood for a campfire before it gets dark.

As Jackson patiently waits for his lieutenant to return, he watches over the mare as it sleeps, curious as to why such a magnificent miniature pony as this, whose exact species he has never seen before, had its fur and mane dyed so brightly and then allowed out into such dangerous woods. Who knows, maybe it’s a new breed and the owner likes to airbrush butterflies in its flank…

Just as Jackson is about to fall asleep, he hears a frightened squeak from his right. He turns his head to see that the mare has just woken up, and seems quite scared, staring at him with her unnaturally big teal eyes.

His heart melts a bit as she turns her frightened gaze on her. “Hello there! Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you. We just fixed up your wounds there, see?” He points to her bandaged leg.

She flinches at the gesture, so Jackson holds his hand open-palmed at the mare to show he means her no harm. “I’m sure you don’t understand me, but trust me, we will not hurt you.”

The mare looks at him and starts to calm down, as if she understands him. Jackson wants someone to talk to other than his absent Lieutenant, so he makes conversation to the mare, even though he knows full well she could not possibly understand.

“So… what’s your name, my little pony?” he asks, already thinking up ideas of what he might name her, politely waiting on an answer even though he only expects silence from the mare, or maybe a nervous nicker. He chuckles at his own idiocy, knowing that to think a mare could answer or understand him is very stupid of him. But then…

“F-Fluttershy…” A weak female voice answers in barely in a whisper, just loud enough to be heard by Jackson, who starts and stares at her through the dark.

“Wait! Did you just… talk…?” he asks the mare, his jaw open, more certain than ever he’s either dead or dreaming.

“Y-yes…” the mare confirms in a very soft voice. “My name is… Fluttershy…”

Chapter 2 - Fluttershy

This is CRAZY! This can’t be… am I losing it?

“You spoke? You can really talk?!” Jackson is in shock… unable to believe his eyes or ears!

“Y-Yes…” she confirms again, more weakly, uncertain of the strange bipedal creature’s intentions.

Jackson staggers back against the wall of the cave. “A mare that can talk?!” he whispers to himself… thinking the whole situation was absurd! In all the times he’d been in battles, he’d encountered trained dogs and even dolphins before, but none of them had ever talked!

“I’m dreaming! Yeah that’s right! I’m dreaming.” he thinks as he clutches his head, trying and failing to accept the idea of this talking young mare before him! Suddenly wondering again if he really is dead, he then asks her a question…

“What were you doing here, with those giant snakes?!” he asks, still is trying to piece it all out… if it’s a dream, if it’s real… if he’s in fact dead or alive.

“Um… I-I was picking some herbs in the forest, when that… that Hydra came out of nowhere and chased me through the swamp,” she explains timidly. “It had too many heads… I couldn’t stare them all down…”

Jackson was in a daze, the content of her words still registering less than the simple fact she was speaking. “She really is talking!” he admits to himself. He then pinches himself on the arm and face several times to try to wake himself up, but gets only bruises from his actions, finding it hurts a lot, especially given the flashburns he’s still nursing from the nuke strike.

Finally convinced he isn’t dreaming, he looks back at the mare and sees a confused expression on her surprisingly expressive face

“What were you, d-doing h-here?” she asks with an audible tremor in her voice, visibly frightened by him. “I’ve never seen anypony like you before…” she looks him over again, taking in his alien features, strange garb, and odd metallic items.

“I’m… um…” he has no idea what he can tell her, so he simply doesn’t. “It’s nothing… nothing that you need to worry about it.” He shrugs it off and checks at the pretty mare’s injuries, as much to master his nerves as to tend her.

“How’s your leg? Can you move it?” he asks her, and she responds, showing him that she can just fine.

“That’s a relief,” he sighs, strangely happy to know that that she’s okay.

“Um… thank you…” ‘Fluttershy’ responds, starting to relax just a bit. Though she still has no idea who this strange creature is, she quickly decides he is a friend if he took care of her.

Just then Vasquez returns with the firewood. Arriving just outside of the cave, he is surprised to hear the Sergeant talking to someone. Thinking that his subordinate might have found another survivor, he goes inside to see… nobody but the mare and Jackson there, though the former has woken up and is now staring at him with very large, teal-colored eyes.

“Who were you talking to, sergeant?” Vasquez asks as he drops the firewood in the floor and prepares to start a fire, sparing just a glance to Fluttershy, wondering what kind of owner would give their pony colored contact lenses along with the yellow fur and pink mane dyes. “I see our guest is awake.”

“Well, uh… you’re not going to believe this, L-T, but… I’m talking to our guest.” Jackson points to the now-aware mare sitting near Jackson, peering uncertainly back at him…

The Lieutenant gives him a look. “You’re talking to the animal now? Did you hit your head when you got thrown from the chopper? Or are you just lonely?” Vasquez teases Jackson a bit, trying to lighten the mood. “Bit silly for you to talk to an animal, isn’t it?”

Jackson smirks like the joke’s not on him. “She’s not an animal. Her name is Fluttershy, sir,” the Sergeant corrects his superior.

Vazquez gives him a look. “Oh, so now you named her? And what kind of name is Fluttershy? I guess it does kind of suit her, but I mean, how girly can you get?” He laughs at Jackson even more as begins to make a fire pit.

“Damn it, L-T, this isn’t a joke! She really can talk!” He raises his voice at the Lieutenant, glancing at Fluttershy for help. Fluttershy understands his look, looking between the two creatures that probably saved her life as she gets the idea that the first stranger needs her help on this.

“A-Actually, he’s telling the truth” Fluttershy speaks in a very small but clear voice stopping both Vasquez and Jackson’s conversation in its tracks. They both looked at each other, and looked at her. Shocked, Vasquez accidentally snaps his plastic lighter in his grip, causing it to crack open and spills flaming oil all over his hand and firewood…

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!” Vasquez literally shouts in surprise as he tries frantically to beat out the flames.

“So, you heard it too?” Jackson asks his dumbfounded Lieutenant.

Vazquez doesn’t immediately reply, dumping canteen water all over his hand. Once the flames are out, he remembers the question. “I heard it alright, but… is she really…?” He can’t even complete the sentence, still in shock over the whole thing.

“It’s true, sir. We’re not dreaming; she is talking! I tried to pinch myself awake earlier. I don’t know where we are or where she came from, but sir… this ain’t a dream,” Jackson says, assuring himself as much as his Lieutenant that everything they’re experiencing is real.

“Um, excuse me…” Fluttershy speaks up again. “Thank you for your help and for fixing my leg. But um… w-who are you?” She looks between the two strange creatures again.

After much explaining and talking to Fluttershy, they start to understand each other bit by bit… though for the two marines, they’re getting more questions than answers.

“So you live in a town called Ponyville?” Jackson asks her, scarcely able to believe a place would be called something so self-descriptive.

“And there are others like you?” Vasquez adds another question before Fluttershy can answer the first one.

“Oh, yes, many others! Not just ponies either! But even among ponies, we can be quite different…”

“Different?” Vasquez and Jackson ask at once.

Fluttershy stands up and takes off her saddlebags. She carefully sets it aside to reveal… a pair of feathered appendages attached just below her shoulders. She flares her wings up and stretches them outwards to show their full length to her stunned rescuers, who flinch backwards at the sight.

“There are several different types of pony. For example… I’m, um, a pegasus pony,” she says to them, a bit taken aback by their reaction. “I can fly, though I don’t really like to.”

“A pegasus….” the dumbfounded Jackson begins…

“… pony?” Vasquez finishes in an equally stunned voice.

“Y-yes… I umm…” Fluttershy hesitates before she continues. “I-is that okay?” She shifts her face partially behind her long pink bangs.

The two men share another glance, thinking nothing is okay about this entire day. “It’s okay. We understand…” Jackson reassures her as he pretends to know what she’s talking about.

“You do?” Vasquez asks blankly, completely oblivious of Jackson’s thought. Not wanting to frighten their nervous guest, their only friend in this new world, Jackson gives him a quick elbow him in the midsection, trying to get him to play along.

“So, uh… do you have a house nearby for you to go home?” Jackson asked, standing up and looking outside, noting darkness had nearly fallen, and there were more unfamiliar animal sounds coming from the woods.

She nodded. “Actually, yes I do. It’s on the other side of the forest but it’s far to walk from here…”

“Then, we should go there first thing in the morning… if we go now, we might see much more than what we just killed before.” Vasquez looks out of the cave as Jackson is thinking much the same thing, already worrying about what other creatures they might encounter in the dark of night. With their night vision gear fried by the nuke’s EMP, they had no means to see, and the available light was rapidly fading.

“Tell me, are there anything more monsters, except that giant snake-thing from earlier?” the sergeant asks, clutching his rifle a little tighter.

Confirming his fears, she nods somewhat jerkily. “Oh yes… there’s Manticores. Ursa minors and majors… also dragons, though they don’t usually come this far south. So be careful out there if you do go out. Be especially wary of a certain creature called a cockatrice.”

“Cockatrice?” the two marines chorus.

“Oh! Um… a cockatrice is a snake with the head of chicken that can turn you to stone just by looking at you!” she informs the human pair, whose minds can barely process what they’re being told. “I only barely stared one down before.”

Vasquez is even more dumbfounded, recognizing from one of his college western literature classes that most of the monsters she was describing were right out Greek Mythology… Looks like they’re real here! he shuddered slightly, only belatedly noting that pegasi are supposed to be mythical creatures as well. “Then it’s best to stay the night here… and no wandering outside after dark, understand, Sergeant?” Vasquez gives a command to Jackson, who after all he has already seen it takes it very seriously.

“You don’t have to tell me twice, L-T!” Jackson replies to the Lieutenant. “Believe me, I’m in no hurry to die.” If we aren’t already dead… he can’t help but think again, wondering if they’re in some strange hell or purgatory.

“Me neither.” Jackson then tells Fluttershy to sleep, while they stand guard… though the strange winged pony is a bit persistent that they don’t have to do that, as she doesn’t want to be a burden to them.

The pair share a smile at that. For her pretty appearance and bashful nature, the two marines are starting to see her as less alien than adorable. “It’s no burden at all, Miss Fluttershy… so please get some rest. Tomorrow, we’ll get you home safely…” Jackson promises the canary-yellow Pegasus with a smile on his face. Reassured, Fluttershy does just that, closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep…

For even though she only just met the strangers… she already trusts them with all her heart.

Once she was asleep, Jackson stands up and goes to Vasquez, who stands guard just outside the cave. “Say Lieutenant, do you think those creatures she mentioned… are they real?” he asks his L-T.

Vasquez hesitates before replying, his mind still reeling. “Well… if what we saw and killed is real enough… I think we have to assume they are.” He struggles to keep the tremor from his voice.

“I think you’re right,” Jackson agrees, long experience with his officer friend telling him that he’s quite rattled. “But the one thing she can’t answer… how did we get here? And where is here…?”

“I don’t know,” the Lieutenant admits with a shake of his head, “but until we have some answers or a better sense of this place, we don’t drop our guard, got it?”

“Copy that,” the Sergeant quickly agrees. Jackson then looks towards the night sky, thinking about something. “You think tomorrow… we’ll meet her friends though?”

“Probably. Why? Are you excited to meet more ponies?” Vasquez manages a wan smile at his weak joke.

Jackson gives him a look. “Real funny, L-T… I just want to know how we got here in the first place… think maybe somebody here might know?”

“Maybe. But that’s not really a bother… I mean, we just survived a nuclear blast!” the Lieutenant laughs nervously.

The Sergeant gives his L-T a disbelieving look, not liking the shaky tone in his voice. “But that’s just it! We should be dead! But somehow we ended up here instead!” he motioned to Fluttershy then at their surroundings.

Vasquez shrugs. “Dunno. Maybe we went to an alternate universe or something,” he chuckled in the same nervous tone.

“Yeah, like that’s going to happen,” the Sergeant snorts, trying not to think about the possibility that somehow, they already have.

After their conversation, Vasquez takes out his pistol and starts to walk towards the cave entrance.

“Hey! I thought you said not to go out after dark?” Jackson reminds his L-T as he keeps walking.

“I won’t go far! I just need some… some air, okay?” he walks away with another glance back. “See if I can find us some food, too.”

Jackson can only watch him go, hearing the slightly shrill note in his L-T’s voice and deciding that whatever’s going on, he needs some time to process things. So he returns to the cave and lays back against the rock walls, watching over Fluttershy as she sleeps. Hungry as well, he grabs an MRE from his pack and thinks back to the USMC Annual Thanksgiving Dinner the previous year. “It was a lot more fun than this year was…” he mutters to himself, shaking his head as he revisited the day in his memories, finding himself speaking softly to Fluttershy, even though she was fast asleep.

“It was November 24th and we had some Canadian marines visiting,” he told her, hoping he didn’t wake her but desperately needing a sounding board. “I visited a friend on the barracks who was throwing a Thanksgiving party along with the other marines. Lots of turkey and beer and some harder stuff too. We were having the time of our lives. My friend refused alcohol but insisted that I drink… so I did. After four rounds, I said I had enough, but they he kept putting more cups in my hand. After a while, I was completely drunk and had no idea what I was doing… the last thing I remembered before blacking out that I took a L.A.W rocket launcher and pointed it at something…”

He shook his head and chuckled. “The next morning I woke up in the infirmary with a splitting headache and learned that my friend was facing court-martial because he drunkenly destroyed 4 humvees with the LAW inside the compound. He knew I’d just been promoted from Corporal to Sergeant and had a promising future ahead while his reputation was already shit, so he took the fall in order for me to stay in the service. Don’t know if I’ll ever live that down. Also don’t know if that’s really the reason why he chose to take the blame or not, but I was grateful to him. He got booted right out of the Corps but hooked up with the Army instead. He truly is a friend… I just wonder if he’ll ever make it into the 75th regiment in the US Army Rangers…” his voice trailed off, hoping and praying he’d somehow be able to make it up to him…

And that he’d yet make it home to do so.

Chapter 3 - A Wing and a Prayer

With a curt goodbye, Vasquez leaves the cave to find food, get some air and process everything that was happening, wandering off into the forest twilight alone, talking to himself while in the way.

“Nukes… chopper crash… talking ponies… giant multi-headed snakes… What’s next?!” the feeling-anything-but-in-charge marine officer mumbles, his grasp on reality tenuous, thinking non-stop about the previous day and everything the talking mare had told them earlier.

“Man, I have to stop drinking spiked coffee in the middle of the night. It makes me see some real weird shit,” he tells himself, still half-thinking and hoping that it was all a dream and he was about to wake up back at base, gearing up for the day’s action. I’d rather face a rebel nuke than… THIS!he mentally adds, for at least a nuke is a known quantity. This strange new world he finds himself in is decidedly not.

As the incredible illogic of the situation continues to weigh on him, Vasquez tries to shake off the feeling on insanity slowly creeping through his mind. As he walks through the woods he stumbles on what appears to be a marine-issue backpack. Thinking that somebody just left it there, he approaches and examines it in the glow of of his flashlight.

Reading, he finds it belongs to someone he knows—Lieutenant Michael Hudson, a Marine in the 6th Force Recon regiment. He had last seen his fellow officer heading into the capital leading a separate raid before they got separated.

“But why is it here? Is he nearby?” he asks himself, frowning, still hopeful of finding another familiar face. As he turns the corner he nearly runs right into… a statue of a person. And oddly enough, its facial features seem familiar.

“What the fuck is a statue doing here?” he asks nobody in particular. He studies it closely in the low light of his red-filtered bayonet-mounted light, which is of only limited usefulness without his night vision gear, but he isn’t going to chance using his floodlight setting. The statue is a perfect sculpture of a marine recon trooper. It even has a stone rifle and equipment etched into his form; every detail is perfect down to the dog tags hanging around his neck, which Vasquez reads the name engraved in the stone necklace…

Lt. Hudson, Michael…

“What the fuck?!” He stumbles backwards and nearly falls down in shock, only then recalling Fluttershy’s warning of a Medusa-like creature who could turn victims to stone just by staring at them.

Wait… she really MEANT IT? At that moment, he goes pale, all of the blood in his face draining as he thinks of what such a creature could do to him… and what it apparently has already done. Hearing a sudden slithering sound behind him, the hairs on his neck stand straight up. He turns around slowly and finds… a snake-like creature with the head of a chicken, regarding him with its hypnotic red eyes.

That must be the cockatrice! he swallowed, quickly averting his gaze, hoping against hope that the creature had to make eye contact in order to petrify him. Vasquez backs away slowly, not making any sudden moves, his pistol feeling leaden in his hand. Just as he is about to raise it, he suddenly feels stiff and falls backwards, and quickly realizes the cause…

His legs are beginning to turn to stone!

“This is not freaking good!” He tries to raise the gun only to find he can no longer pull the trigger for his hand is now rock. He tries to crawl away but only made a couple of meters away before he could no longer move, the petrification effect now creeping up his sides, nearing his chest.

Realizing he only has seconds left, the marine Lieutenant takes the only option left to him. He draws his combat knife in his good hand and waits for the snake to come close enough… then with a single desperate move, one he’d last used on a rebel soldier who had stumbled onto his hiding place, slices its head off! As the chicken-headed snake falls dead on the ground, the red glow fades from its eyes and his body slowly turns back to normal, leaving him shaking badly, finally forced to accept that this world he finds himself in is only too real. With that, he stands up and sees that Michael isn’t returning to his normal self.

This isn’t good! he thought, a sense of panic creeping back into him. Killing the creature turned him back to his normal state, so why hadn’t Hudson turned back? Maybe it’s not reversible after you’re turned completely to stone? he reasoned. Waiting long enough to make sure, he realized there was nothing more he could do, so he left him there, taking his discarded and non-petrified backpack as he went to return to the cave.

Trying to distract himself from his fears and frantic thoughts, Vasquez thinks about his past, when he was first assigned to the 4th Marine Infantry Division as a Second Lieutenant fresh out of Officer Candidate School at Quantico.

“It was in Iraq, when we went to the 4th division. Man those were the days. I hate to be those sorry ass bastards right now. They probably had enough of crawling in mud, training in the rain, running in the fucking hot sun… hell, maybe Dirk is still there for all I know,” he tells himself while he jogs down the path towards the cave, his eyes straining to see any other possible threats in the red beam of his flashlight cutting only weakly through the now near-total darkness of the woods.

“Basically… It was a hell hole. Dirk was our commanding officer in the camp, and nobody fucked with him. He was the meanest and the most badass marine in our bunker, he was all like ‘DO THIS’ and ‘DO THAT’ shit, man. If you had more guts and less pride like the other guy has… you might go out of the camp alive at the very least… or could end up being shot for disobeying a direct order from a Superior.”

He shakes his head at the memory. “I know shooting a soldier is unfair and unjust, especially when the order itself is. But hey… like he always said: ‘This isn’t kindergarten kid! We’re at war… and we don’t need a weak minded person in our Corps!’ That was his motto, and as harsh as he was, there was no question he got results,” He continues on walking as he remembers his past assignments from Dirk, who in many ways became his mentor.

“When he gives assignments, he takes it VERY seriously. One false move and it’s off to the ‘Box’ with you. The same goes for the time, if he wants something by a certain time, he really means it and doesn’t listen to your excuses. Some say he’s a slave driver. But I don’t know, if anything, he’s more like an overseer to me…”

As he makes his way back, something else catches his ear; a muffled rustle of movement in the tall grass downtrail. Quickly extinguishing his flashlight, he investigates the noise, pistol drawn and ready to fire, taking no chances after his close encounter with the cockatrice. He tracks the source of the noise in a small clearing in the forest… and hides behind the treeline just outside its perimeter, wishing his night vision goggles were working as he scans the darkened surroundings for anyone who could be there…

Just then he notices what appears to be a large upright and partially clothed dog emerge from a hidden tunnel, walking on its hind legs! With a jeweled collar and abnormally large eyes and paws, it stops and waits, barking something back towards the hole behind it. As if in answer, another canine-like creature came out, followed by a third. They were a total of three dogs, and there were all as big or bigger than him! Worse, they had all started sniffing the air, as if they could scent him, talking back and forth in their own language and then pointing in the general direction of his location.

“Shit… what now?” Vasquez levels his pistol and prepares to shoot. But before he could fire at them, he remembers the talking mare said that other intelligent races lived in her world, not just ponies, and he had no right to shoot them when he had no idea if they were actually a threat. Taking a chance since Fluttershy proved friendly, Vasquez puts his pistol in safety and decides it’s best to show himself.

“Hey, there dogs!” Vasquez waves and smiles to the dog-like beings as he goes closer to them. “I’m a friend.”

Startled by his alien appearance, the dogs don’t immediately respond until one—the leader?—snarls and growls at Vasquez, barking an order that has the others immediately moving to either side as if to flank him, each pulling out would looked to be like to be some kind of snare or sling weapon. Instantly reclassifying the group from potentially friendly to hostile, the Marine Lieutenant raises his pistol again and takes a step back.

“Hey! Back off!” he warns them, but not recognizing his weapon, the two flanking dogs charge Vasquez, leaving him no choice but to defend himself. He fires three rounds at the leftmost one and one his its head, killing it on the spot… before swinging his pistol right and putting a half dozen more rounds into the rightmost, putting him down just before he reaches the marine Lieutenant!

The third one is not idle, giving a enraged howl and charging the marine. It was the largest of the group, and Vasquez instantly realized he would not go down easily and he needed a headshot to do the job. Setting his sights; and knowing he has at least six rounds remaining in the 15-round magazine of his standard Marine issue M9A1 9mm Beretta, he pulls the trigger and fires….

Click!

The pistol gives the most horrifying sound ever to a Marine’s ear… the weapon is jammed!

Sensing an opportunity, the dog charges Vasquez, who fights frantically to clear the misfired round… but the dog is too quick and grabs him, fighting with him for the strange weapon. Vasquez struggles to break free of the dogs uncannily strong grip, its teeth bared, trying to get at his throat as its claws start to dig into his flesh. But the veteran marine has gone hand to hand with Russian rebels and Iraqi insurgents and refuses to go down without a fight!

He immediately pokes the oversized eye of the dog, causing it to yelp in pain and loosen its grip just enough for the Lieutenant to break free. Now enraged, the dog gets really angry and lets out a frustrated snarl, charging the Marine once more. His pistol useless, Vasquez pulls free his hunting knife that Jackson gave him earlier and prepares to defend himself. But the dog is too quick and determined, colliding hard with Vasquez, knocking the blade from his grasp. Losing their collective balance in their struggle, the pair roll downhill towards a nearby ledge of uncertain height, nearly invisible in the deepening gloom but apparent by the bank of fog collecting in it.

Recognizing the danger, the marine lieutenant tries to kick the dog out of its way just before they go over the edge, but the bipedal canine is too heavy for him, grabbing onto his uniform with his claws to save himself, trying to climb back up him. Holding onto a protruding branch for dear life, the marine punches the dog in the face repeatedly with his free hand, knocking out a couple teeth but otherwise just infuriating his assailant further.

Realizing the strange creature has a strength advantage on him, Vasquez realizes he has no options left but to let them fall and hope for the best; that the gorge isn’t too deep and he can make his dog take the impact and reach his backup knife. Vasquez utters a silent prayer and lets out a marine battle cry before letting go, allowing himself to fall down the ravine…

Having already experienced one live-saving miracle that day, he can only pray he will yet be granted a second.

Extra 1 - Ground Zero

“Sergeant!” Corporal Craft calls out to his superior.

“Report!” Sergeant Williams replies to his subordinate, who is running up to give information.

The lower-ranked NCO does not have good news. “Sir, we have checked and double-checked the blast perimeter for bodies of the missing team, but there’s nothing there! We can’t find any trace of Lieutenant Vasquez or Sergeant Paul Jackson, sir!”

Williams can only groan and shake his head. The senior noncom is having a very bad day. Not only has a large portion of the rebel force somehow disappeared in the wake of the blast without a trace, but some of his men have vanished as well. Even their tanks and Humvees have been somehow seemingly completely erased from existence not only at Ground Zero, but also from well outside the blast’s immediately lethal radius.

“Dammit, Corporal, this doesn’t make any sense! I mean, how could over a thousand marines and rebels disappear without a trace along with their vehicles? Even if they were killed by the blast, we should at least find the wreckage and bodies! But there’s nothing! NOTHING!” Williams slams his fist down, about to lose his mind in the recovery mission the general has given him. He thought it was an easy enough assignment; his orders were simply ‘Get the bodies, sort them out, I.D them and get out, decontaminate yourself and your team afterwards.’ but he thought wrong, and his superiors were getting even more exasperated than he was the more nonsensical news he give them.

After another hour of searching the entire area, he finally stumbles upon something—the wreckage of a CH-46 Sea Knight transport. He looks up the identity of the fallen chopper from his uplink to Baseplate, pulls up its last order set and finds out that it was assigned to the missing Lt. Vasquez of the USMC 1st Force Recon, which had crashed in the wake of the nuke attack…

“Finally, something…” he exhales sharply, but his relief is short-lived. “But if this is their transport… Then where are their bodies?” Williams stands at the same place where Jackson supposedly died as he gazes up to the sky, wondering what has become of his friend. He still remembers the frantic radio feed from both the NEST team and Baseplate on that tragic day…

Knowing what was about to happen, and that there was nothing he could to to save them…

2 days earlier

NEST (Nuclear Emergency Support Team)

Attempt to disarm the nuclear device

“Baseplate, This is Kilo 1 of the NEST team! Confirm that we have a nuclear threat in the capitol! I repeat, we have a confirmed nuclear threat in the capital! We advise that the remaining marines in the field disengage and retreat to the north while we disarm the bomb, over!” Sergeant Utah alerts the entire Base about the nuclear bomb they just uncovered, assembled and put there by the rebel fanatics of Vladimir Makarov, likely intended to both cover their tracks and inflict as many casualties on the marine attackers as possible.

The Baseplate radio operator swallows hard, but to his credit, keeps a level voice. “Roger that Kilo 1; we’ll give our boys an immediate heads-up, out!”

Utah hangs up and turns his attention back to the jury-rigged bomb before him. He instructs PFC Johnson on how to disarm the bomb as Utah looks for the correct wire to cut… or tries to. Halfway into the process, they have the casing open and internals exposed, arriving an inner circuit that consists of three wire segments, each with its own role and colors—one Red, one White, and one Green. He knew one of the wires triggers the detonation while the other starts the nuclear fission reaction. And the third…

The third would simply move them along to the next link in the electronic chain that might lead to eventual disarmament.

His heart going a mile a minute, Johnson is having a hard time waiting for an order on how to proceed, as Utah keeps changing his mind, getting conflicting data from his computer on which is the third wire, his readings on the bomb confused, except for one irrefutable fact:

The bomb is counting down 5 minutes to detonation.

He shakes his head in frustration, just grateful they had a few minutes left. “Command, This is Sergeant Utah reporting. We need some more time to disarm this thing! Have you all told the friendlies to retreat from a minimum safe distance until we give the all clear?” Utah radios Baseplate as he continues to monitor the situation, getting an affirmative answer before turning his attention back to his computer screen and the life-and-death matter at hand.

“I’ve got it! Johnson! You need to cut the red~”

Before he can finish the sentence, the bomb is triggered remotely by a watching rebel on his leader’s orders and explodes, instantly vaporizing Johnson and Utah in a blinding flash of light.

The blast killed the entire NEST team, to say nothing of countless marines, rebels and civilians. Williams was on the top floor of a 15-story building and 10 miles from the blast.

His flesh seared and left eye momentarily blinded by the flash, all the Sergeant could do was listen helplessly to the panicked calls of the rescue choppers caught in the blast and thrown down to the earth, presumably killing all inside. The shock wave reached their outpost just a few seconds later and broke more than a few windows, but that was minor damage compared to the carnage closer in, the death toll of their fellow soldiers in the field. Early estimates were over 20,000 dead, and that number was fully expected to climb…

Or would if Williams could find the mysteriously vanished vehicles and bodies.

His failure to do so is exasperating if not outright infuriating. Nevertheless, he has his orders and does his best to carry them out, searching for his lost friends and comrades. Where ARE they? He asks again again frustration. It’s almost like they’ve vanished right off the face of the earth…

Chapter 4 - Cobra Pilot

“Hello?! Hello! Does anyone copy? Command! Do you copy?!” a frantic, if slightly static-y voice calls out.

Jackson wakes up at the sound of someone’s voice in his radio and light streaming in through the cave entrance with the newly risen sun. But when it is not immediately repeated, the Sergeant decides he’s just hearing things, closing his eyes to go back to sleep.

“Can anyone hear me? This is attack chopper Delta-Two-Six, please respond! I need assistance here dammit!”

Startled awake again, Jackson, fumbles for his radio and answers the call…

“This is Sergeant Paul Jackson, USMC. I read you loud and clear, over!” Jackson replies to the person on the other line, happy and relieved to hear a new voice, but wondering why his Lieutenant hasn’t returned yet.

“Oh thank god! Listen, I need help… I’m a Cobra CPG [Copilot/Gunner] from the second attack squadron, got caught in the blast and must have been flung a long way! We’ve crashed in some forest, just came to and I need medical assistance. My pilot is unconscious and in bad shape, we need evac!” The copilot coughs a few times as he explains further that was in fact nearly nine miles from ground zero when the bomb went off scouting for a suspected Rebel outpost near the edge of a Russian forest, but the shock wave had still been strong enough to toss his old gunship around like a rag doll.

Despite the distress call, Jackson takes heart, hoping from the downed gunner’s report that if at least one friendly is around, there might be others and they might yet together find some answers as to where they are and how they got there. “Okay, I’m coming to get you! Just hold on!” he calls back into the radio, pulling his gear together.

“Wait… only you? Aren’t you going to call for search and rescue?” The confused and audibly woozy pilot asks.

Jackson hesitates slightly before answering. “Trust me… no one except me is coming to get you, now state your position.”

“Uh… I don’t know…” the pilot apologetically says, explaining his GPS is down and he’s got no electronic indication as to his location, forcing the sergeant to try and home in on the radio signal, which his EMP-resistant comm gear indicates as being somewhere north of his position. “Delta two-six, are there any landmarks you can give me as a bearing, over?”

The pilot looks at his compass and then squints weakly into the morning light. “I’m, uh… somewhere towards the north end of the forest! There’s… some sort of mountain just northeast of me, over!” he was finally able to discern, wondering why the woods looked nothing like the deserts of southern Iraq he’d been over before. There certainly weren’t any mountains in the area, either!

“North end, mountain to the northeast…” Jackson recites. “Okay, hang on… I’m coming for ya!”
With that, Jackson picks up his rifle and knife then sets out, just grateful his radio isn’t satellite-dependent, or he might have never heard the stricken pilot’s call…

He had just stepped outside when he hears a familiar sound right behind him, reminding him of his guest. “Mister… Jackson…?” the yellow pony with pink hair calls out tentatively.

“Fluttershy! Good morning… did you have a nice sleep?” Jackson asks the young mare as she rubs her eyes with her hoof. She focuses on him with some difficulty, but nods to the marine sergeant as a sign of ‘yes’.

“That’s great. Listen… I need you stay here while I go and get someone, okay?” he kneels down before her.

Looking equal parts interested and alarmed, the mare gathers herself and then asks a question in a very quiet voice, speaking so softly Jackson couldn’t make out what she was saying. Not understanding, he moves closer and asks her to repeat herself.

She gathers herself again. “C-can I… come with you?” he’s finally able to make out.

“What? No! No, you can’t…!” He shakes his head sharply. “You said it yourself, Fluttershy—it’s too dangerous out there for you to leave this cave!” the sergeant tells her gently, intending to leave her behind for her own safety. But the bashful pegasus keeps insisting she come along.

Gentle persuasion failing, he tries logic. “Fluttershy… you’re injured, and can still barely walk. You have to stay,” Jackson tries to reason with her.

But for being so shy, the mare is surprisingly consistent. “I have wings… so I won’t have to walk. Besides, you don’t know the forest well, like I do. You helped me, and a friend of yourself is in trouble. I want to help you!” she says in a stronger voice, as if rediscovering her convictions.

That gives Jackson some pause. It’s true, he doesn’t know the forest but she does, and as he thinks about it, he decides she would actually be safer with him than alone in the cave where forest creatures could corner her.

His decision made, he nods. “Okay, you can come, but stick close! And if there’s trouble, you stay behind me, okay?” he waits for her nod before moving out. Jackson really doesn’t want to endanger her but what can he do? The yellow mare flaps her wings and floats to him smiling, leaving him marveling that she actually can fly as they go on the rescue mission.

As they walk, Jackson briefs Fluttershy on what they were about to do and how they are going to get out if any trouble comes along.

“Listen carefully Fluttershy, Were going to help some of my kind out in trouble. There’s a downed chopper pilot somewhere northeast of here and we need to help him. It sounded like he and his copilot were wounded, so we better move fast, understand?”

Though a bit confused at what Jackson just said, Fluttershy agrees… and obeys Jackson’s request for her to fly up over the treeline, heading northeast to find any signs of smoke or fire.

True to her new friend’s instructions, as soon as she cleared the treetops she could see a plume of smoke near the base of the mountain, coming from what she could only describe as a very large, strange and misshapen bird. She goes back down and tells Jackson of the strange sight near the edge of the forest, leading him to the crash site.

By the time they arrive they find the pilot waiting for them, having pulled himself free of the wreckage and trying to tend the injuries of the copilot, who was carried out by the pilot and sitting with him under a tree.

The sergeant went up and offers his hand to the visibly battered Cobra pilot. “I’m Sergeant Paul Jackson of the USMC 1st Force Recon, What’s your I.D?”

He shook his hand somewhat weakly. “I’m Corporal John Hanks and this is Major Andrew Wallace of the 2nd Attack Squadron,” he introduces himself and his commander in turn.

“Is he still breathing?” the sergeant motions down at the stricken pilot.

“Yes sir, he is… but I think he’s lost a lot of blood, and I’m not in great shape either,” he grimaces. “We need to get him evaced to a base… is there one near here?”

Jackson hesitates again. “I’m afraid not, Corporal.”

The copilot looks up at him in confusion. “You said that before. But why not~” John’s voice trails off as he looks at Jackson’s side where he beholds… the most outlandish but beautiful hallucination he’s ever seen; a bright-yellow winged pony with pink hair and large teal eyes.

“Um… sir… I may be seeing things…” John points to his right with a shaky hand, right at Fluttershy, who is staring at him with a mixture of compassion and worry.

The sergeant glances back at her and grins. “You’re not hallucinating, Corporal. She’s real…”

“Hello. I’m Fluttershy,” the strange pony-like creature speaks and hovers closer, sending his already reeling mind spinning further in circles—a winged equine is flying and speaking to him! “Um… are you okay?” she asks in deep concern.

John goes pale at the realization that that what he’s seeing is real; even the Sergeant is talking to it! “I, uh…” he barely stammers, suddenly wondering if he’s dreaming or dead.

Jackson reads his mind, having already experienced the same reaction. “You’re not insane, Corporal. She’s there. I can’t explain it, but she’s real.” Turning away from the stunned pilot, Jackson addressed the yellow mare. “Fluttershy, do you still know where your house is?” Jackson asks the mare, who nods.

“Oh, y-yes… it’s just over this hill and little walk after that,” she promises, offering to lead them there and treat their wounds herself, claiming she’s an animal caretaker and knows first-aid.

Jackson nods, then turns back to the dazed pilot and snaps him out of it by shaking him in his flight suit.

“Look, I know it’s crazy, and I don’t get it either. But wherever we are, if you don’t want the Major to die I suggest you carry him now and come with us. I’ll explain everything on the way, now MOVE!” he gave the lower ranked NCO a shove that indicated he was running out of patience, and his pilot out of time.

The copilot snaps back into reality and numbly carries the Major as they follow the brightly-colored Pegasus mare to her home. The cobra copilot is hurt but perseveres; he hasn’t survived Marine basic and several months of combat culminating in a nuke strike to buckle under the weight of his pilot.

While they walk, taking frequent breaks for the copilot to rest, Jackson thinks about their predicament. Never mind how he and Vasquez had originally arrived, how did additional people keep ending up here? He also still isn’t entirely convinced this isn’t some dream or elaborate trick played by the Russian rebels—was it possible they also been hit by some hallucinogenic gas attack in addition to the nuke? But for now, hallucinations or no, he decides he might as well play along.

They walked for half an hour as the weakened pilot struggles to carry the Major and were left lagging behind.

“Sergeant! Can you take over? I can’t carry him anymore!” John, who was completely worn out, stops and puts the major’s dead weight down, taking a second to catch his breath.

Jackson shook his head sharply. “We don’t dare stop now, corporal—you don’t want to see what’s lurking in this forest, trust me,” he answers, but agrees to the swap. He slings the major over his shoulder, passing his M4A1 to the corporal and letting him take point. All Marines are trained first and foremost as a rifleman, after all, so he knows the copilot can handle it.

As they continue on, following Fluttershy who flies a little ways ahead, John talks about her with Jackson…

“So, she’s what, a Pegasus? I thought they were Greek mythology?” John asked, still staring in wonder at her brightly-colored flying form.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Until we met her.”

“We?”

“Yes, Me and Lt. Vasquez.”

Upon saying his name Jackson was caught short, realizing in all the hurry, his sudden rousting and desire to rescue the downed pilots, he had completely forgot about the L-T.

“Shit, I forgot he hadn’t returned yet! Didn’t even leave him a note! Goddamn it I knew I was forgetting something!” Jackson lurches forward and continues to walk.

Let’s bring him to her house first… Then we’ll go~” Before he could even continues Fluttershy screams as a monstrous creature jumps out and roars.

“What the fuck is that?! Is that a lion?!” John asks frantically Jackson, leveling his borrowed rifle as the sergeant hastily put the major down and drew his sidearm, some part of his mind noting the big leonine-like beast also had bat wings and a scorpion tail.

“That’s not a lion… That’s a Manticore!” Fluttershy corrected them, then to their shock, flew up and interposed herself between it and their weapons. “No! don’t hurt it! You don’t have to…” she promised. “Just let me…” she got on the ground and began to approach it cautiously.

Jackson and the corporal couldn’t believe what they were seeing. “Fluttershy! Get out of the way!” he told her but she shook her head and took flight again, planting herself in front of the monstrous creature.

“It’s all right… there, there…” she calls to the beast, and to the human duo’s shock, the beast seems to focus on her instead of the two marines. It dwarfs her in size, and yet she’s completely unafraid, in marked contrast to her earlier shyness. “Oh! But you shouldn’t be going around scaring other ponies like that,” she tells it like she’s addressing a young child or a pet. “I can tell you got up all grumpy this morning because of all the noise and strange creatures around. But it’s okay… just sleep now…” she all but coos to it, and as the pair watch the lion-like creature fall to its knees, its eyes fluttering.

“Hush now, quiet now it’s time to sleep you sleepyhead…” they just made out her singing as the beast’s head lolls once and it finally curls up on its side, rumbling happily as Fluttershy rubs its belly.

“Okay… we can go now…” she turns back to them, satisfied.

“Uh… right… a newly-stunned Jackson acknowledges, lowering his weapon, in disbelief at what he’s just witnessed but eternally glad for it—he didn’t even want to think about what would have happened if they tried to shoot the large beast, for as much punishment as it might have been able to take… or dish out. “You go ahead with her, Corporal. I still have to find the L-T.” He gives the Major back to John, trading him for his rifle and giving the Corporal his sidearm.

“S-sir?” he says, a little shakily. “I d-don’t know if I can…”

“It’s not much further,” she promises them. “The exit to the forest is up ahead, and my cottage is just beyond it. We’ll be there soon.”

“In that case… I’ll get him there, then I’m setting back out again,” the Sergeant decides. Within a minute, they reach the exit, and just as she said, her cottage is in sight, just fifty yards past the forest perimeter.

Once they get inside—there are many small-to-midsized animals there, though most take one look at the strange creatures and immediately hide, exception one white bunny who gives them suspicious looks—Jackson lays the Major out on a couch that Fluttershy points him too, accepts some fruit and a refill on his canteen, then immediately sets out again.

“Just stay with her… hopefully you’ll be safe there. I’ll catch up as soon as I can…” he tells Corporal Hanks, giving him his sidearm and magazines just in case. He then plunges back into the forest despite Fluttershy’s protestations, overcoming them by telling her that she can best help him by taking care of his friends.

I’m coming, L-T… he silently promises as he reaches the forest entrance again. Just hold on…

Chapter 5 - Course of Action

“I’m telling you Twilight, I saw them fighting over here… see?” A small reptilian creature says while pointing to the dead corpses of the dogs with a shaky finger. He can still hear the sharp cracks of the strange weapon wielded by the strangely-dressed ape-like beast, see the head of one all but exploding, and blood gushing from the wounds they caused.

“Hmm, those are the Diamond Dogs alright…” a single-horned and lavender-furred mare said while checking the bodies to confirm if they were dead… and finding they not only were, but they sported some very odd but clearly lethal wounds. “So. Okay. So where is this ‘gorilla with a noise tube’ you saw, Spike?” The horned one asks the small reptile, who is staying behind her for protection.

“I-I don’t know… it was struggling with the last one and fell down a hill! “The reptile says, too embarrassed to say he stayed hidden in the brush for an hour afterwards, so badly shaken by what he saw.

“What were you doing out here anyway?” she asks him, inspecting the surrounding area where she finds more strange hoofprints in the ground.

“Just w-went to visit Zecora…” he replies, staying close to her for protection. “Had some ruby tea and sh-she said there were ‘strange folk about, there is no doubt! Odd creatures and contraptions… perhaps from different factions!’” he mimes the zebra mare’s voice surprisingly well.

Twilight has no idea what their striped friend could mean by that. She decides to visit her next, after solving the immediate mystery of what happened there.

“Hmm. These hoofprints are quite interesting. I wish we could have seen that gorilla, Spike…” The horned mare says, more than a bit curious of what may have made the oddly-shaped impressions in front of her.

“I’m really sorry, Twilight. If I called you sooner… maybe you could have~” he can’t finish and lowers his head to say sorry to his caretaker, mother and mentor.

“It’s alright Spike… whatever did this to them must have been really scary to see. Though I really wish I could figure out what~”

“God damn it! Son of a BITCH!”

Both of them fall silent as they listen intently to the slightly muffled voice, spouting cursewords they’d never heard before, the small reptile seeking protection behind the larger mare yet again…

“Oh that’s just great! Fucking, no good piece of… of ALL the fucking luck! It’s been been, what? almost half a day I’m hanging around this piece of crap!”

Both of them look at each other and then very cautiously go to the source of the voice, which sounds to be coming from down the hill, if not over the cliff. Careful of their footing, they edge toward it and peer over the side, to finally behold…

A very strange ape-like creature who was tangled in tree branches a few feet from the edge of the cliff, hanging upside down by his knees and seemingly unable to pull himself up, the ground beneath the tree slowly giving way under his weight and threatening to drop him into the ravine.

“Damn it!! I won’t die like this, Not hanging upside down from a fucking tree! Ugh!” Vasquez tries to pull himself up to grab a second branch but his actions only serve to loosen the tree trunk further, causing an ominous creak as it tilts over further.

“Great! Just GREAT! So this is it for me?! You spare me from a nuke to make me fall from a tree? HUH? Answer me GODDAMN IT!” Vasquez talks to no one, losing hope along with the tree’s grip on the cliff edge.

“It’s not it…” A female voice from atop of the cliff echoes to Vasquez’s head. He looks up to see… another mare! Only this one is purple and has a spiral horn jutting out of her forehead.

Despite the appearance of a second pony—and her even stranger-looking companion; a green-and-purple lizard-like creature—Vasquez is just relieved and thankful that finally, someone came to help him.

“Hey. Hey YOU! Please… can you help me?” Vasquez calls out, praying they won’t abandon him for being an alien ape… but also not knowing how they were going to get him out of there given he had but seconds left before the tree gave way and he went plummeting to his death.

“Okay, hold on gorilla!” The horn of the purple pony suddenly shines and then, as if like magic, Vasquez feels himself being picked up by a strange violet aura as he floats up to the air and lands safely on top of the cliff, the loosened tree finally crashing loudly down the cliffside.

Though stunned by his close call and his savior’s actions, he’s too relieved to care. “Thanks, and by the way… I’m, uh, not a gorilla. I’m a human and my name is Alberto Vasquez. I’m a Lieutenant of the USMC 1st Force Recon… or used to be.” he falls forward to all fours, still shaky and breathing hard from his close call.

Twilight understands little of what he said—what’s a human? USMC?—but she does recognize the word “Lieutenant”, knowing that’s a military rank; one her brother has held. So is he some kind of soldier…? “I see… well I’m Twilight Sparkle and this is Spike, my dragon assistant” Vasquez looks to the small thing which appears to be a small lizard.

“Is he a real dragon?” Vasquez asked in curiosity, amazed he can ask so calmly.

“Yes he is… but he’s still a baby though.” Twilight says looking at Spike, who seems a bit peeved off by Twilight’s description on him.

“Yes, I’m a dragon! But… what the hay are you?” ‘Spike’ says, keeping ‘Twilight’ between them, peering out at him from behind her.

After encountering so many strange creatures, Vasquez is finally starting to take things a little more in stride… even another talking animal, though at least this is one is bipedal. Then again, the dog-creatures were too, and they weren’t friendly… “I’m, uh…” He starts, only to trail off—he’s already introduced himself, but how are you supposed to explain yourself to alien creatures on another world? And how did they even speak his language?

“You’re not from around here, are you?” Far from being afraid, ‘Twilight’ appears completely intrigued by the creature in front of her, almost studying him like a lap specimen.

“Well, you could say that, yes…” he grants. “As the matter of fact. I don’t even know how I got here.” Standing back up, Vasquez looks for the gear that he dropped in the struggle with the strange canine-like creature. “Have you two seen my pistol anywhere?” Vasquez asks the pair.

The two glance at each other; the baby dragon giving an uncomprehending shrug. “Pistol?” The pair say at once.

He hesitates, but replies, deciding there’s no point in hiding the truth. “I’m a soldier. It’s… a kind of weapon we use where I come from.” He hopes they won’t take that badly.

“What does it look like?” Spike asks as he spies at a strange metal object thing in front of him.

“Its looks like… uh…” Vasquez thinks of what he can describe it for these strange creature who certainly don’t know about modern warfare. “It’s metallic, about the size of a brick and looks like the letter ‘L’… You do have letters here, don’t you?”

“Oh… is this it?” Spike raises up the pistol that he found near a bush, grasping it by the barrel and looking down it. After a moment of panic before remembering the gun had jammed and can’t fire, Vasquez thanks Spike and takes the pistol, clearing the jammed round and clicking on the safety before reholstering it. “Wait… is that the noise tube?” Spike panics anew, hiding behind Twilight again.

Vasquez looks at him, something clicking. “Wait… you were here before?”

Spike nods sharply but stays behind Twilight. “Y-yeah… I was heading home from Zecora’s when I saw you and those Diamond Dogs,” he explains. “I hid. And then you…” he points at the pistol and cringes, his hands (paws?) going to his ears.

“Oh…” the Lieutenant said, finally recognizing why the small ‘dragon’ was afraid of him. “Don’t worry, it’s safe. Those… things you called ‘diamond dogs’ attacked me and I had to defend myself,” he explains, finally knowing the names of the strange canines he’d grappled with earlier.

“Then… how you you make it do noises?” Spike asked, really curious about the heavy thing.

Vasquez shakes his head. “Sorry kid, this isn’t a toy. It could kill you, like what I did with those dogs there.” Vasquez points to the two corpses of the dogs near them

“You did that?” Twilight asks, astonished and a little appalled—the diamond dogs were no favorites of ponies to be sure, and did sometimes set ambushes for travelers on lonely roads to get their bits and gems. She certainly understood defending oneself against them, but to actually kill them…

Recognizing her wary look, Vasquez immediately tries to explain himself. “I’m sorry, but… what else I could do? I tried to be friendly but they surrounded me and attacked me! So I… used my pistol. But unfortunately, one of those dogs jumped on me and rolled down the hill. That’s how I ended up in that tree…” he gives another shuddering gasp, remembering his close call once more.

“Oh, I see…” Twilight still isn’t fully convinced of the circumstances, but recognizes that in his mind, at least, he was acting in self-defense. But what kind of world must he come from that he immediately resorts to deadly force…?

“By the way, uh, Twilight…” It feels decidedly odd to him to call her by name. “Do you know a pegasus named… Fluttershy?” Vasquez asks, to the surprise of both mare and dragon.

“Huh? You met Fluttershy?” Spike replies on behalf of Twilight.

“Yeah, well kind of… we, uh, rescued her from giant snakes. Or a Hydra, I think she called it.”

“A hydra? W-Where is she?! Is she okay?” Twilight speaks out, very concerned about the winged mare.

“She suffered a leg wound…” Vasquez tells her all about what how they rescued her the previous day, explaining that she’s currently in a cave with his partner. After the short explanation, he invites them to follow him back to the cave so that they can see her, and they both eagerly agree.

Just as they are about to reach the cave they see two unfamiliar figures by the entrance… and they are definitely not Marines, or even American. Vasquez quickly tells the two to hide until given the signal to come out, while he goes to check on them.

Drawing his pistol again, he slips in a fresh fifteen-round magazine, trying to get a closer look at them, uncertain if they are combatants or just civilians seeking shelter. As he gets a clear look through a hole in foliage, he recognizes the pair from their garb and weapons as ultranationalist rebels, the same ones they’ve been fighting for weeks… and judging by the voices, that there are several more inside the cave.

Recognizing the odds did not favor him, not wanting to endanger either of his two friends and realizing that Jackson and Fluttershy had already left if they were acting so calmly, he decides that discretion was the better part of valor and began to back away, but the snap of a twig gave him away. The two rebel soldiers level their weapons and open fire at him, though they couldn’t see him clearly through the dense undergrowth. Rounds flying around him, He takes cover behind a nearby tree and shouts at his two new companions to run before they get killed.

Stunned and wide-eyed at the cacophony of noise and the sensation of projectiles whizzing past them, chipping logs and tree trunks at speeds too fast to see, they shake off their panic and obey, getting up to run the opposite way. But Spike is caught by a stray round and drops to the road holding his left leg in pain, purple blood flowing down his calf. Twilight tries to help him up but can’t concentrate enough to use magic because of her fear, the flying bullets and the very loud gunfire breaking her focus, making her panic.

“Help!” she shouts at Vasquez, trying desperately to pull Spike to safety with her strength alone.

Vasquez returns fire as he goes to the injured Spike, the ingrained credo that Marines never leave their comrades or friends behind foremost in his mind. Arriving at a dead run, he reaches down and picks him up with one arm—he wasn’t that heavy, being roughly the size and weight of an 8-year old—and drags him behind a fallen tree, the unicorn mare close behind.

“Ouch! Ow! It hurts! It hurts! What’s with those guys? why did they throw a metal thing in me?” Spike didn’t know that he was shot, only that he was in great pain and losing purplish blood rapidly; Vasquez knows he has to act fast, or his new friend might end up being dead. Removing his belt, he goes for his first-aid supplies and takes out a roll of gauze, wrapping it to the young dragon’s wound, tightening a belt around it.

“What’s happening? Why are they attacking us?” Twilight asks wildly, confused and uncertain what to do.

“Damn… Twilight, right? Take this cloth! Keep pressure on the wound and above all else, stay hidden! I’ll take these guys out!” Without waiting for a response, Vasquez leaves Twilight to tend for Spike and makes a low dash for a second piece of cover, a nearby tree with attached brush, listening intently as the Russians came looking for him. Catching the point men by surprise, he drops the first two with well-placed shots, but three more follow and immediately open up on his position, though they still hadn’t spotted him, their shots not finding him while a thrown grenade doesn’t make it through the brush, knocked to the ground by a branch and exploding harmlessly twelve yards short of him.

Dropping to the ground, he takes careful aim and kills a third rebel with a headshot, leaving two, who immediately fall to the ground, shouting in Russian at each other. As the Lieutenant is reloading, they suddenly leap up and run in opposite directions, trying to flank him. Slamming the fresh clip home, he takes a flurry of shots and manages to hit the leg of the 2nd one, leaving him screaming in pain. He immediately spins right, searching for the last Russian, but he is out of sight.

“Sir! Look out!!” A freshly panicked Twilight shouts. As Vasquez turns, the last Russian bursts out of the brush behind him, leveling his AK-47 directly at the Marine’s head!

“You will die… American!” Vasquez is in total daze as his life flashes before his eyes yet again that day, his pistol pointed uselessly away. He watches helplessly as the Russian prepares to fire, gripping his trigger tighter and tighter…

The sound of automatic weapons fire echo through the forest as a bullet-riddled body falls dead to the ground….

Author's Note

It's been years since I continued this story, and now, it's being rebuilt to exterminate several miss-spells and grammar problems, plus the one editing is non-other than the editor and co-writer of Phoenix wright Turnabout Storm... Firesight! yay...... :rainbowkiss:

Chapter 6 - Guns and Tanks

Vasquez flinches back at the sound of rifle fire, certain he’s about to die only to realize two things—that he’s still very much alive, and the three-round bursts were the not the deeper bark of an AK, but the lighter chop of an M-4. Shaking badly, he opens his eyes to see the Russian fall dead in from of him, his head blown open, and… Sergeant Jackson bursting out of the bush, rifle still leveled at the fallen rebel.

“Sir, you okay?” The marine sergeant calls out, scanning for more Russians, but none could be seen.

“Yeah… th-thanks, buddy. Thought I was a goner there,” The Marine Lieutenant takes several deep breaths at having escaped death for the fourth—no, fifth time in less than a day, wondering how much longer his uncanny luck is going to to hold. And what other surprises this strange place may yet spring.

“No problem, L-T.” With that, Jackson hears something moving behind him and points his rifle to it, but Vasquez quickly stops him.

“Don’t shoot!” he calls out urgently, motioning for his Sergeant to lower his rifle. “They’re friendlies—one’s another pony, and one of them’s shot in the leg. Break out your medkit and help them,” he orders and the sergeant promptly obeys, only mildly surprised to find another brightly-colored mare but doing a double-take as he beholds a childlike purple-and-green reptilian creature gasping in pain. The two look at him warily, but his heart softens at the sight of them, particularly the wide-eyed lizard asking him if he can take the pain away. “Sure thing, buddy,” he tells him, pulling out a morphine syringe. “This’ll take the pain away, promise…”

While Jackson attends them, Vasquez enters the cave, now cleared of rebel forces but dreading what he might find—what the rebels might have done to their ‘guest’. He’s both alarmed and relieved to find her missing. “Jackson! Where’s the yellow one?” he asks as the sergeant reappears, carrying the still-gasping ‘baby dragon’ inside, holding him like a child, a still-stunned Twilight in tow. The sergeant replies that Fluttershy went home along with the two cobra pilots they recovered, which are now in her care.

Worried for their safety if rebels are still around, Vasquez asks where Fluttershy’s home is located. Twilight speaks up for the first time since the engagement with the Russians, telling them in a still-shaky voice she knows the way. Her mind still reeling at the violence and weaponry she’s encountered, the thought of helping Spike steadies her and she leads the two of them to Fluttershy’s house walking through the forest, finding the path heading to her friend’s home.

The town of Ponyville was in an uproar.

Odd things had been happening all morning, from strange lights and noises coming from the Everfree to panicked ponies speaking of strange apes about… to the huge tan-colored metal object that had somehow appeared directly in front of the Town Hall, blocking the the front doorway.

Everypony tried to push the heavy thing with strength or magic but it was simply too big to budge. Some ponies remarked it looked like an iron unicorn because of the large horn in front of it… while others said it almost seemed like some kind of carriage given its many lower wheels, though it seemed impossible for them to move the object given they were surrounded by some kind of flexible track.

Fluttershy encounters the strange thing herself when she goes into town to buy some food and medicine for her visitors. Deciding they would know what it is, she goes back to her house to tell the others about it, wondering how or even if she should keep them hidden.

“What the hell?! You mean the names of cities in the U.S are much like in this place?!” Vasquez says after hearing a slowly calming Twilight tell him about the new world they find themselves in as they walk, a world called Equestria, which seemed uncannily similar to America in some surprising ways. “I mean… Manehattan? Fillydelphia? Las Pegasus?” He feels another headache coming on.

“It’s much like ours, I know.” Jackson isn’t surprised because he after all he’s seen, nothing really surprises him now… he barely even blinks as Twilight magically carries Spike along, the baby dragon now sleeping after a morphine injection, meant to tide him over until they can get him better medical help. Or maybe I just don’t care anymore… the Sergeant shakes his head, but keeps an eye out for other rebels, bringing up the rear of their little column, Twilight and ‘Spike’ between the two marines who kept their weapons brandished, the pair still in some shock, one from his wounds and the other from the close brush with death dealt by strange creatures wielding stranger weapons. They’d encountered no more Russians, but that didn’t mean they weren’t out there.

“What I want to know, is how the hell did those Ultranationalist Rebels find their way through here?!” Vasquez nearly shouts his words as they exit the forest to see a cottage dead ahead. “And for that matter, how did we?”

As he speaks, Jackson thinks of a possibility, but doesn’t get a chance to voice it before Fluttershy comes into a view, along with two new ponies—a solid-looking blonde mare who lacked horns or wings but wore a stetson hat, and a massive-looking burgandy stallion with blond hair who wore a yoke. Both had marks on their hips not unlike the ones they’d seen on Twilight and Fluttershy, but unlike theirs, the newcomer’s marks were apple-related, and they both stopped short upon seeing the Marines, eyeing them warily.

“Uhm, sirs? There’s a big metal thing in front of the uhm... mayor’s office. And um… I was thinking you might know what it is?” Fluttershy asks timidly as, getting over her initial shock, Applejack pushed her way past her friend and walked fearlessly right up to the two, peering at them from under her stetson with her bright green eyes.

“Well now, Ah can’t believe my eyes. What Fluttershy was saying was true!” Applejack says as she gazes up at the two humans before her, sparking a concerned glance at Spike, who Fluttershy immediately notices and goes to, Twilight taking him inside her friend’s house to be treated. “So what are y’all? Some kind of ape? And what are those things you’re carryin’?” She points with a hoof at their weapons.

“Oh, uh…” the two Marines look at each other then back to the two new ponies. “Yeah… we’re… a kind of ape called humans…” is the only thing Vasquez can immediately offer, finally accepting that this world was likely filled with intelligent equines, and multiple types of them if their horns and wings or lack of them was any indication. “I’m Lieutenant Vasquez and this is Sergeant Jackson, USMC.”

The mare blinks. “You-ess-emcee? What’s that? Some kind of DJ group?” she asks a slightly nonsensical question. “But we’ve already got one!”

The two humans look at each other again, by unspoken agreement deciding not to question or ask them to explain. “So who are you two?” Jackson asks, casting wary looks at the woodline.

“Oh! Right. Introductions. I’m Applejack, and this here’s my big brother, Big Mac!” she sketches a bow and then motions back to the deep red stallion, who is eying the two curiously but not much more.

“Eeyup,” is the only thing Big Mac says, speaking in a slow, deep voice.

“So where y’all from? And why ya dressed like that?” Applejack looked them over from head to toe again. “Reckon Rarity would throw a fit to see such blotchy clothes. And I ain’t never heard of humans before!”

Well, we’ve never heard of pastel talking ponies before! Was all Lieutenant Vasquez could immediately think as they went inside the house to see to their companions and a wounded Spike.

Once everyone—everypony, they had to get used to the odd term—had been introduced and tended to, they start to talk, Twilight explaining at their request the difference between the types of ponies they’d seen—earth ponies, unicorns and pegasi—and the three conscious humans in vague terms who they were and where they came from.

Vasquez finally decided not to sugar-coat it. “We don’t know how we got here, but where we came from, we were fighting a war. We’re soldiers,” he tells them, deciding they’d likely understand that term better than marine.

“Soldiers? You mean like the Royal Guard?” Twilight pipes up, her interest piqued and her analytical mind starting to reassert itself.

“I don’t know what that is…” Jackson admits. “But the point is… we were fighting, got sent here somehow and… some of our enemies appear to have crossed over with us. They were the ones we encountered in the woods,” he says with a worried look at Applejack, who was now studying them with a considerably more wary expression.

“But… why are you fighting? Ah mean, what’s so important y’all have to kill each other?” she asks to the nods of her friends, all now looking in earnest to him for an answer.

“Well, that’s—”

“Hey, L-T?” Jackson stuck his head in, interrupting to Vasquez’s great relief.

“Yes, Sergeant?”

“There are some other ponies out here,” he announces, at which point everyone goes outside to look, finding Mayor Mare, looking for help in moving the big metal box that was blocking the front door to town hall, visibly surprised to see human visitors.

“Wait… metal box?” Vasquez asks. “What did it look like?”

“Well. Um, it was kind of brown, it had a lot of wheels, there was a large tube stuck to it, it and—”

“Show us!” Jackson and Vasquez run outside without even letting Fluttershy finish her description, following her towards town.

When they arrive, waking through a crowd of gawking ponies, they are stunned at what they see.

“It’s War Pig!” Vasquez says as he goes for a closer look with Jackson, recognizing the M1A2 Abrams Main Battle Tank they’d been defending and working with for days. It had been instrumental in wresting a section of city from the rebels and looked none the worse for wear despite the nuclear blast and recent repairs to its tracks and 120mm main gun, its turret swivelled slightly right. While they study the surprisingly intact vehicle, the ponies around town watch them still unable to make sense of what was going on, Applejack trying and failing to imagine her farm pigs at war.

“So what is it?” Twilight wants to know, studying the strange vehicle from front to rear. Having seen the ‘rifles’ in action earlier, she has a sneaking suspicion as to what the long protruding tube is for but fervently hopes she is wrong.

The two marines were too stunned to reply. “This can’t be! How did this thing get here?” Jackson climbs up the hatch and checks inside, where he sees… a crewman sitting there unmoving, leaving the sergeant worried he was dead. Climbing in, he checks his pulse… and finds it weak, but there. Reasoning the War Pig crew was stunned or suffering from stagnant air, they pull out the entire crew of four one by one.

“Hey! Any doctors here?! Please... help these people!”

“Put them in my house,” Twilight offered, picking one up in her aura, other unicorns following suit. Jackson follows Twilight to a Treehouse, which Twilight explained happened to be the town Library and her home. Fresh air and emergency IVs seemed to help the tank crew, and they were soon stirring even before the pony doctor arrived. But he did treat Spike, magically withdrawing the bullet, then resetting the bone and giving him some special gems to speed healing; the Marines were all stunned when the baby dragon ate them.

Several minutes later, Jackson and Twilight sit across the room as Applejack looks after the wounded crew and the two pilots, who were fast asleep in the basement, tired of talking to Big Macintosh.

“So, where’s Spike?” Jackson asks her as she snaps out of her deep thought.

“Oh, uh... He’s okay now; he’s just sleeping that’s all. It’s just, I can’t bare to see him suffer like that!” Twilight starts to cry a bit, the upset of the past several hours finally catching up to her now that Spike is safe..

The Sergeant’s face softened. “Don’t worry, I’m sure he’s going to be fine,” he says, chancing putting a hand on the unicorn’s withers.

“Are you sure?” Twilight sniffles a little, but responds to the gesture with a smile.

“I’m sure.” He considered staying silent after that, but decides he needs to say more. “Listen… we didn’t mean to bring our conflict here. Believe me, we don’t like seeing innocents hurt.” Can’t say the same about the rebels, though...

“I b-believe you,” she told him. “Y-you took care of Spike and Fl-Fluttershy. B-but I st-still don’t understand how you can just fight and kill s-so casually.”

It was a question Jackson had occasionally asked himself, and didn’t necessarily have an answer for. He didn’t get one either here as Vasquez stepped inside after doing a little maintenance on the tank, covered in grease.

“Well the engine was a bit fried but i got it working again and backed it away from the building. It’s not blocking the door of the building now, at least. Turret and coax seems to be in working order too, and the magazine’s more than half-full. Still, we can’t refuel or rearm it, so once it’s out of gas and ammo, it’s only good as a pillbox,” he shakes his head. With that, he asks his Sergeant to come out, saying he wants to speak with him privately.

Jackson excuses himself for a bit, as he steps outside. Big Mac goes upstairs as Twilight asks how the humans are doing.

“They’re fine, they’re all just resting,” he says in his usual brief manner as he sits beside Twilight. “By the way, y’all have any idea what’s going’ on here?”

She shakes her head—any other time, that Big Mac would be asking a question would be worthy of special note, but now she’s just too tired and spent to give it any thought. “I have no idea, Big Mac, and from what they’re saying neither do they. It’s unnatural for these kind of creatures to appear in Ponyville. There must be a reason they came here. But why?” She turns her mind on the problem like so many others she has in the past, but finds no immediate answers.

“Maybe to make trouble?” Big Mac drawls. “Ah mean, this bunch seems okay, but whoever they were fightin’…”

“I hope not,” Twilight replies, feeling more than a little insecure, worried that they had indeed brought their war with them and now all Ponyville was in danger. “But I think you’re right; the ‘humans’ here with us don’t seem to be bad.”

Meanwhile, outside of Twilight’s house Jackson and Vasquez sit on the now-working tank, trying to make sense of everything as well.

“I don’t get it, L-T. First us, Now this freakin’ tank. What’s next?!” Jackson asks. “Is an aircraft carrier about to drop on our heads?”

Vasquez tried to chuckle, but after everything that had happened, he couldn’t discount the possibility. “I don’t know what’s going to happen next, Jackson. All we can do is try to save our men and watch out for rebels. But…” he trails off.

“But what, sir?”

The Lieutenant waits several seconds before replying. “Just a feeling, but something tells me it’s going to get worse before it gets better.”

Jackson doesn’t reply. At his Lieutenant’s words, he feels a sudden chill down his spine, sensing that his superior is correct; something is going to happen to this place. And this tank is just a piece of it.

Just then three young fillies walked up to them looking at them in amazement, breaking them out of their brooding mood. “Well, hey there! What can we do for you fine fillies?” Vasquez asks at them while they looked up at them in awe.

“See! See! I told y’all! It’s huge!” The filly with a red bow says while pointing at the tank, speaking in an accent that reminded the pair of Applejack.

“Wow! It’s much bigger than I thought!” An orange one with wings says while hopping up on the tank. her small wings buzzing audibly.

“And it’s way cooler than our carriages!” says the white one with a horn, poking at one of the track wheels.

Jackson laughs a bit at their antics and adorableness. “So, do you three have a name?” he asks while looking at the three.

“I’m Scootaloo!” The young pegasus says instantly, puffing up her chest a bit.

“Ah’m Apple Bloom” adds the earth pony with the bow.

“And I’m Sweetie Belle!” finishes the curly-haired white-furred unicorn.

“Nice names you got there!” Vasquez says while laughing a bit, the presence of kids, even pony ones lightening his mood.

“Thanks! So, what’s your names?” Sweetie Belle asks earnestly, the other two listening eagerly.

“Oh. Well, my name is Richard Vasquez and this is Paul Jackson,” the lieutenant spoke for both of them. After playing on the tank and keeping them company for a while, the three fillies giggle and bid them farewell, running off, leaving the pair in much better spirits.

“Man, they’re just like our kids, huh L-T?” Jackson watches the sky as the sun goes down surprisingly quickly, making the sky turn crimson red — the veteran Sergeant fervently hoping it isn’t an omen.

“Yeah… they are,” Vasquez agrees with him, staying up talking with his subordinate a few minutes more before deciding it was time to see Mayor Mare as he had earlier promised .

“Okay… just don’t get yourself ambushed by ‘Diamond Dogs’ again or whatever,” Jackson suggests, eliciting a weak chuckle. With that, he climbs down the tank and walks toward Town Hall, leaving Jackson alone to tend the tank.

He was just starting to walk up the stairs when a bright light bursts in front of him, bringing out a large box tumbling from the sky from out of nowhere.

“WHAT THE FUCK!!” Vasquez shouts as the box suddenly flies past him, nearly hitting another pony and demolishing the market stand she was packing up.

The commotion brought Jackson running. “L-T! What the hell happened?” he asks as he beholds the ruined stand and shaken pony, helping the latter to her hooves, his eyes catching sight of something sitting in the middle of the debris.

“That can’t be…” Recognizing the box as an unopened ammunition resupply carrier, Vasquez opens the box and finds hundreds of 5.62mm and 9mm rounds and 12 fragmentation grenades.

Jackson follows behind and recognized the cache as well, exchanging a worried look with his superior. At that moment, the sergeant knows beyond any shadow of a doubt that his L-T is correct…

That whatever is happening is far from over.

Extra 2 - S.A.S

Somewhere deep in the Russian Wilderness, a British Special Air Services team consisting of four veteran commandos touches down, parachuting in to destroy a nuclear missile silo Russian Ultranationalist Rebels had seized four days earlier. Joining them was Staff Sergeant Griggs, on loan from the USMC First Force Recon, their mission given new urgency by the detonation of a rebel nuke in Basrah. But it was off to a bad start as Griggs gets separated during the jump.

“Where’s Griggs?” Captain John Price asks as they reach their rendezvous point short a member.

“Looked he got blown off course. I think he ended up on the other side of the hill,” a worried Lieutenant Gaz says while walking up to Captain John “Soap” MacTavish and Price.

Soap is worried too, but shakes his head. “We can’t waste much time finding him; those Russian Silos won’t wait for us to launch,” he reminds the team while looking towards the Silo gates.

They were all elite special forces soldiers, and given a mission that would require all their skill and experience to complete. The team’s orders were to sabotage and destroy the silo site, and had a three-day deadline under which to do it. After that, there was a good chance the rebels would be able to break the codes and launch the missiles.

“Guys, Griggs just activated his distress beacon. He might be in trouble,” Gaz says, checking his GPS.

“What’s his location?” Price asks.

“He’s about two clicks north of here,” comes the reply as they move out towards the indicated area. They soon come across a rebel scout near the tree line, but Soap makes quick work of him with a single silenced round, moving on.

He isn’t alone, however. “Price!” Soap gives a sharp whisper just loud enough for his fellow SAS soldier to hear. “Enemy sentries. Four rebels, two pairs. 80 yards at 11 and 2 o’clock,” he whispers.

“I see ‘em, take aim and fire on my mark. Suppressed fire only!” Price directed, and the entire team took aim with their, firing on command with a mixture of silencer-equipped M4A1s and G36Cs, killing all four in moments.

After scanning for and not finding any more rebels, they resume their approach. “That’s the last of them. What’s Griggs location?” Price asks as he strips each of the dead scouts of their weapons and ammunition in turn, pulling them under cover and out of sight.

“He’s right on top of us… there! In that small building at 10 o’clock.” Gaz points towards a small storage house near the Main Base of the Nuclear Silo

The team prepares to raid the structure, positioning themselves on all entrances, taking some haste when they hear angry voices speaking accented English… and the sounds of someone being hit repeatedly. After neutralizing some crude tripwires and sensor arrays, Soap sets charges and prepares to breach. At Price’s signal, the lock is blown off the door and they storm the shed in a very practiced manner, quickly killing all three guards inside and finding Griggs stripped of his uniform and equipment, bound to a chair.

“I see you’re all tied up at the moment!” Soap makes a pun as they free him, though Griggs is less than amused.

“Real funny, Soap. All tied up ‘my ass’… just get me the fuck outta here!” a bleeding but still defiant Griggs growls as Gaz cuts his ropes, setting him free.

Knowing the rebels are likely alerted to their presence, they rapidly evacuate the shed, pausing only long enough for Griggs to don a rebel uniform and equip himself with Russian weapons and a spare S.A.S. radio, his subcutaneous transponder having led his comrades to him. “About time you came… Now time for a payback on these motherfuckers!” he pulls back the loading handle on his freshly-appropriated AK.

Acting before the captured base could organize against them, the team infiltrates the silo compound killing guards and scouts along the hallways and catwalks, from above and below. Following their maps and assisted by an occasional—and often painful—interrogation of wounded rebels, the combined USMC/SAS team eventually finds the room where the nuclear weapon is held, the rebels having extracted a warhead from its missile to jury-rig a detonator. The bomb is merely the size of a typical desktop computer, but far more dangerous!

“Gaz, grab that thing and let’s get the fuck out of here!” Price says, motioning Gaz to go.

“Damnit, these bloody Russians didn’t know what they were doing with this,” Gaz growls at the mess of wires and tools surrounding it, trying to separate the warhead from it. He has nearly succeeded when it gives out a loud alarm. It was only then that he realizes the Rebels aren’t completely incompetent—the device is booby-trapped!

“Shit, it’s rigged!!” he shouts, and realizes there is very little chance he can disarm it in time. Hearing the news, Griggs runs outside. The others follow him and rush towards the silo exit but the device is about to explode… and it is far too late for them to get away.

“HIT THE DECK!!!” Soap shouts as the improvised device detonates. All of them perceive a bright flash of light for a split-second before being engulfed by the fireball. The 30-kiloton blast annihilates the silo and everything within several kilometers surrounding it, leaving only a radioactive crater in its wake.

Chapter 7 - The Only Easy Day... Was Yesterday

Captain John “Soap” MacTavish awakens surprised to find himself still alive, on his back and staring up at a forest canopy far different than the evergreen one they had been in. But one thing that has not changed, he dimly realizes as he hears the all-too-familiar ring of impacting rounds around them, was that they were in a combat situation.

“Soap! Wake up, dammit! We’re under heavy fire! Help us out over here!” Lieutenant Gaz tries to shake him out of his daze, but the veteran SAS Captain remains disoriented and unable to help.

Seeing that, the others quickly move to compensate. “Gaz! Griggs! Lay down cover fire! Get those sons of bitches off our backs!” Captain Price, the ranking SAS officer, orders his subordinate and US Marine Staff Sergeant as he picks up Soap and takes cover with him in a rocky field near their area.

“Shit! Soap, come on! Snap out of it!” he all but orders, punctuating his words with a splash of canteen water and several sharp slaps. Finally coming around, Soap gets a grip on reality and wakes up fully just as the Rebels rush them.

“Wh… what just happened?” he asks, trying to shake off his remaining dizziness.

“Don’t know! We shouldn’t even be alive, but right now we need to take out the trash!” Price gives Soap an MP5 submachine gun and leveled his own SOPMODded M4A1, opening with a 40mm grenade round from its undercarriage launcher that takes out two rebels when it detonates. The surprise strike briefly staggers the rebel attack as Soap’s MP-5 opens up as well, scattering the Russians who had been previously concentrating on Griggs and Gaz.

The Rebels, who are experienced soldiers in their own right, quickly regroup and make to flank their opponents, a steady barrage of AK fire pinning them down while others advance on the wings. With their numbers, fanaticism and discipline, the American and British raiders know it’s only a matter of time before they’re all picked off… only to be saved when their enemies suddenly look up in the sky and gape, turning tail to ran away, not even bothering to drag off their wounded and taking no more than a few backwards potshots as they retreat.

“They ran away! Why would they run away? They should have stayed and finished us off!” a bewildered Griggs says while looking at the stampeding Russians. “They must be scared of us!” He smiles triumphantly… which only lasts until they hear a very loud and angry roar that they’ve never heard before, one that shakes the very ground around them.

“Uhh… Captain, I know this sounds crazy but I don’t think they ran because of us…” Gaz points with a shaky finger to the top of the slope, where they behold… a giant winged beast with scales and large snout, the latter with smoke coming out of its nostrils as it glares at the group from behind slitted eyes and large, bared, razor-sharp teeth.

“Jesus Christ!” Price exclaims, shocked at what he’s seeing. “That can’t be a…”

“What the bloody hell?!” Gaz says, backing away from the apparition in a growing panic of his own.

“RUN!!!” Soap shouts as the dragon lets out a loud roar and even more incredibly, releases a gout of fire from its muzzle that incinerates the position they were just in, the radiant heat painful on their bare skin.

They sprint down the ridge as fast as they can as the monstrous creature gives chase on its enormous wings—its fiery breath clearly meaning to cook them alive. They all begin firing at the massive creature, emptying their magazines. Somewhat surprisingly, it recoils slightly from the impacts, giving a pained growl and flying a bit higher as it chases the group down to the field to lessen the strange stings it feels.

“GO INTO THE FOREST!!” Price orders as he makes to cover the team, desperately fumbling for a fresh magazine and finally slamming it home. He opens up on the impossible creature again, trying to hold its attention and buy time for his compatriots to reach the relative safety of the trees, where they might at least hide.

Price fires at the beast until his rifle clicks empty, then turns and dives through the tree line himself bare moments before the creature reaches him, barely outrunning a swipe of the beast’s talons and a fresh gout of flame that is still enough to give him flashburns on the back of his neck. Having escaped with his life, he joins his comrades as they don’t stop running for another five minutes, trying to get as deep in the woods as they can.

Finally in relatively safety, all of them gasp and wheeze. Despite their superb physical conditioning, they’re all out of breath from their panicked dash, Price the worst of them all.

“Wh-what the fuck was that thing?!” Griggs asks between ragged breaths.

Price gives him a look of disbelief. “Didn’t you see? It’s a goddamn dragon for Christ’s sake! Think for once!” he snaps in fear and frustration, barely able to believe the sentence he has spoken.

Gaz looks at him like he’s gone mad.“But there’s no such thing as dragons!”

“Well, tell that to him!” Soap replies, pointing back the way they’d game and still shaking badly. “And where the fuck are we?! This isn’t the forest we were in! And we got caught in a nuke blast! How are we even alive!?”

Discipline starting to reassert itself, Gaz checks his electronics gear but can’t get anything from any of it. “I-I don’t know… the GPS doesn’t work, comms are out too—but that could just be EMP damage.” Gaz looks back from the field where they were a minute ago and starts to think, trying to examine their situation rationally. “You’re right, Captain. Weren’t we caught by the explosion? So where’s the debris? Where’s the compound?” He looks around in bewilderment. “And there should be a crater of some sort here, right?”

Finally able to catch his breath, Price loads another fresh magazine and a 40mm grenade into his M4A1. “Look, I don’t know; and right now, I don’t really care. We’re alive! We shouldn’t be, but we’re alive!” for all his combat experience, the veteran SAS captain finds himself shaking at the realization, resisting the urge to pat himself down looking for wounds. “And in any event, we should find somewhere to hide out. It’s getting dark and never mind the bloody dragon, the rebels are still around. Those bastards might come back for us so we best find somewhere defensible to settle,” he finishes, his training and authority reasserting themselves.

The others immediately obey, not just because he is the ranking officer but because they know from long experience that once he gives his instructions, no argument will be brooked. Reloading their weapons, they fall into formation and follow their Captain deeper into the woods.

At some length, Griggs breaks the silence. “Hey… aren’t dragons only supposed to live in like England or Japan or something?” he asks nobody in particular.

“What, you think that was Godzilla?” Gaz snaps, still trying to comprehend it himself.

“Or that this is King Arthur or Harry Potter?” Soap chips in. “It couldn’t have been real. Probably some rebel trick.”

Griggs gives them both annoyed looks. “Okay, then what the fuck do you call that thing that attacked us, huh? A lizard?! A robot? I’m not stupid man, that thing was huge and REAL!” Griggs fires back.

Price only listens to them at first, but then decides to speak up, sensing the fear and tension in the group. “Tell me Soap, we all saw that right?” the SAS captain asks in a low voice. “And if you think that thing was some ultranationalist pet, then why did the rebels ran away from it too?”

Soap opens his mouth, then closes it again. “Yeah okay, fine. We all saw that thing and it shouldn’t even exist. So the question is… where did it come from and why is it in Russian territory?”

Price bit off his response that he wasn’t even sure they were in Russian territory any longer. “To tell you the truth… I have no idea,” he replies. “All we can do is report it when we get back.”

The group falls silent again, nobody wanting to voice the thought that they might not even be able to get back. Instead, they walk through the deepening dusk, going deeper into the woods in search for shelter. The group having trouble seeing and making way through the thick, jungle-like underbrush in the darkness, Price orders his team to don their night vision goggles and stay alert. It isn’t long before he sees movement on their left and he signals them to hold fire, the group focusing on the scratching and digging sounds coming from behind a nearby brush line.

As they fan out to cover Price while he checks the source, the SAS Captain is suddenly jumped by a large dog-like creature, one that seemingly springs directly out of the ground, blindsiding him. Taken by surprise, Price cannot bring his rifle around fast enough before the strange bipedal beast is on him, only able to use it as a club as the others come up to aid. Before they can even fire a single shot, Price gets hold of his knife and sinks it in the beast’s chest, killing it instantly. He has barely thrown its gamey body off him before four more of the same creatures come out of the same hole and rush him. This time, however, his alerted team doesn’t wait for a weapons-free order before gunning down the dogs, killing all four on the spot.

Approaching cautiously, Gaz looks at one of the beasts they have just killed. “Are these dogs?” he asks in a low voice, keeping his rifle leveled as he pokes at one with his boot.

“They look like dogs, but did you see how they stood up?” Griggs whispers back.

“They were walking like us!” Soap adds as he turns towards Price. “And they’re wearing jewels and some kind of vest?”

“First dragons now werewolves?” Price can’t help but chuckle, seeing so many creatures that he’s only known from books and movies. Where the bloody hell ARE we? he still has no answer for.

“Lets just go, all right? This place gives me the creeps,” Gaz says, taking point while the others follow.

After several hours of hiking, they reach what seems to be the other side of the forest, finding themselves before an apple tree.

“Just in time, I’m starving!” Griggs kicks the trunk of the tree causing some apples to fall.
“Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about!” he announces, making sated sounds as he crunches happily into the sweet fruit.

Far from being happy, Price stares blankly at the ordered rows of apples trees, clearly visible in the bright moonlight. “This is an apple orchard,” he says almost self-evidently.

“Yeah, so?” Griggs was already starting on his second apple.

“So… apples don’t grow in northern Russia. And certainly not at this time of year!” he picks a fruit himself, studying it with his night vision goggles.

An uncomfortable silence resulted. “Look! there’s a barn and house over there! Maybe we could stay the night there!” Gaz points to a large red barn a few yards away from them.

Powers immediately holds him back. “Wait… we don’t know where we are and there might still be rebels around. So we secure the perimeter first before entering either structure.”

Five minutes later, they creep close to the barn. Finding no tripwires or electronic sensors, they discover the door unlocked and enter cautiously, weapons at ready, Gaz and Griggs from the back while Soap and Price take the front. Finding it empty except for a hay loft and some rather old-fashioned tools, they then check the country house near it, peering inside with their night vision goggles but finding nobody home and no farm equipment, cars or tractors outside; not even the older kind you would often find on Russian farms. Finally satisfied, Price gives the ‘clear’ signal and they go inside, surprised to find the door unlocked there as well.

Griggs is unimpressed at what they find. “Wow, this place is a dump! I mean look at this! Old furniture, no power, only candles for light, no television… hell, not even a radio? These people are lame, man.”

“Well, we’re not in a luxury hotel, so stop your grousing, Griggs! Just be thankful that we got a place to stay for the night well away from… the rebels and whatever the bloody hell those things were. Tell me, would you want to stay out there with werewolves jumping you and a bloody dragon flying around?” Griggs’ only response is a grunt as he sits down in a rocking chair, finding it creaking under his weight. Soap lights the candles while Gaz goes to the kitchen to see if there is any food available.

As he sits, Griggs notices some photos on the far wall in the dim candlelight. They’re black-and-white, and incredibly…

“Captain Price, check this out” Griggs gets up and motions the Captain to come closer, the two examining the pictures together.

The both stare for a moment. “Now who in their right mind would put a hat and a bow on horses? And would you look at that… an old horse with a walking cane? That’s just weird, man,” Griggs rubs his head, thinking that the longer they stay in this place, the less sense it makes.

Price shrugs. “Perhaps they just love their horses and dolled them up for these pictures?”

“Maybe, but look over here!” he motions to a new picture. “This is what I really don’t get at all, these brand marks on their butts! See one has three apples, and another has a big green apple, and the last one has a pie stamped on all of their asses!” Griggs laughs a bit as he looks at the last one. “But the small one has nothing.”

“Of course she has nothing, she’s still young. I mean, who in the right mind brands a filly?”

Griggs gives him a look. “A filly? How do you know it’s a girl?”

“I just do,” Powers says, but suddenly isn’t certain himself.

“Surely you’re not serious?”

“I’m dead serious. And don’t call me Shirley,” Prince deadpans to lighten the mood.

Griggs stifles a laugh as Gaz returns from the kitchen and lets out a frustrated sigh.

“Guess what? We have hay for dinner. And if you don’t like it, We have apples all around!” he tosses a couple to his comrades.

“Just apples?” Powers asks as he plucks one out of the air.

“Well, apples, carrots, celery stalks, colorful flowers too…” Gaz admits. “But no meat. No fridge or freezer. Just hay and canned veggies for the most part.”

Soap comes down from the 2nd floor and hears what Gaz says. “Hay? Why in the world would these people keep hay in the kitchen?”

“I don’t know mate, maybe these people are crazy or something…” Gaz sits down on the couch beside Price as Soap just sits on the stairs… and has a sudden thought.

“Hey guys, I’m just thinking… what if the owners aren’t away? I mean look at this place. The room are well maintained, the beds are made, and the furniture is dated but not at all dusty. So don’t you think that we maybe we shouldn’t be here…?”

Price looks at him and realized he has a point. This house is recently inhabited, and if the owners are rebel sympathizers who come home to find them…

“You’re right. We should move, now!” Price quickly packs up and goes to the door. The others follow suit, blowing out and putting the candles back in their place and then leave the house as silently as they had entered, with no trace of their presence left behind.

The only easy day was yesterday… Price thinks as he walks out, resuming their nighttime march. It is the motto of the US Navy SEALS, but certainly holds for their SAS brethren as well. Their lives have gotten immeasurably harder not because they failed their mission, but the fact that their communications have gone out making them unable to call for extraction, stranded deep in hostile territory that for the impossible presence of dragons and werewolves is now even more dangerous.

Needing answers and resupply, they walk along a road leading away from the farm towards the town lights in the near distance.

Chapter 8 - Hunter 2-1

“Son of a BITCH!” Private First Class Joseph Allen shouts as he takes cover behind their ruined humvee. A US Army Ranger and veteran of the Afghan war, he and his team had been deployed to Iran along with the rest of the 1st Battalion, 75th Ranger Regiment just days earlier, only to be ambushed by a mob of rebel raiders while doing recon on the area, at about 10:34 P.M.

“Damnit, we’re surrounded!” his longtime companion and fellow Afghan vet, Sergeant Foley, says while taking cover himself, trying desperately to keep their attackers at bay.

“We should have stayed in the base and had another drink! But no~ YOU want to a have a look around! SHIT!” Cpl. Dunn complains as he reloads his magazine, an AK rifle round cracking just past his head.

“OH SHUT UP!” Foley shouts back at Dunn, who’s getting irritated about his constant complaining since they went out of the base. “Just keep firing, dammit!”

“They just came out of nowhere! They must have been planning an attack on the base! We need to take them down!” Sergeant Liam shouts as they fire back at them. Sergeant Liam Gillespie was a Green Beret sent to work with loyalist forces in the area, and already knowing the area, had offered to help Sergeant Foley in their recon.

“Working on it!” Foley sees a narrow ridge and quickly forms a plan to take the fight to higher ground. “Allen! Get on that ridge and cover us with your SAW! We’ll cover your retreat, then you cover ours!”

“Wilco!” Allen acknowledges. “Push these bastards out, we’re going to ground them to yesterday!” the PFC comments as he crouches in front of the crashed jeep, taking fire as he ducks in the back of it.

“What the hell did he say?!” Dunn says looking at Foley.

“Shut the fuck up and fire!” Foley and Dunn both provide cover fire as Allen makes a dash for the ridgeline, a few rounds hitting the dirt in his wake. They wait for his M-240 Squad Automatic Weapon (S.A.W.) to open up, but it doesn’t immediately.

“What the hell is he doing?!” Foley grits his teeth as more AK rounds impact the ground around him, the raiders closing in.

“Oh, now you ask me?!” a frustrated Dunn bites back as the radio crackles to life.

“Colt Six, this is Baseplate. Distress signal received. What’s your status, over?” Baseplate radios the team to check on them.

“Baseplate this is Colt-Six! We’re under heavy fire and request immediate extraction and air support! We’re on a road six klicks east of base and have been ambushed by a group of rebel raiders! We can’t hold on much longer!” Foley shouts through the radio, going on to give his exact grid location.

“Copy that Colt 6, Standby. Hunter 2-6 is en route and we’re diverting available air assets to your area. Hang on, we’re getting you out of there!” Baseplate signs off and dispatches an MH-60M Blackhawk and accompanying Apache air escort near the area to come get them. Foley, Dunn and Liam know they only need to hold on a few minutes more… and also know they likely won’t be able to.

Their attackers suddenly rush them from the left, only to be cut down by SAW fire from the ridgeline as Allen finally opens up, having played dead and waited for the most advantageous moment to do so.

“Took your sweet time! Allen! We’re on our way to you! Cover our asses!” Foley shouts over his comm link as the group takes advantage of the broken assault to break cover and sprint for the higher ground.

“GO! I’ll Hold them off!” Liam throws 3 grenades at once that explode in front of the Raiders, slowing them down just enough for the Rangers to reach the ridgeline. Upon arriving, the others throw smoke grenades to mark their location and further cover their retreat, enemy rounds chasing them but none finding their mark.

Just then the ground around the raiders erupts in gouts of dirt from aerial chain gun fire as the pilot of their transport calls in. “This is Hunter 2-6. Have your smoke in sight and laying down suppressive fire on the tangos. Are you guys alright?” Sergeant Christian Mariano calls out as he nears the ambush point.

“Hell yeah! Now that’s a sight for sore eyes!” Dunn shouts in excitement to see the heavy transport chopper and Apache escort raining down death on the Raiders.

The Blackhawk fires a few more rounds at the Raiders, scattering if not completely killing all of them before landing to lift the men out, the agile Apaches covering them and chasing down the survivors.

“Thanks for the assist, 2-6! Now let’s teach these punks not to mess with the Rangers!” he proclaims as the Apaches begin a counterattack, strafing the area, spotting and cutting down a portable SAM team before they can launch. The rescued Rangers join the fight as Dunn takes hold of an airframe-mounted minigun.

“YEAH!!! GET SOME!” the Corporal shouts at the top of his lungs as he rains death down on the remnants of the raider group, treating them like small ants under a magnifying glass burning with the sun’s rays.

After another minute, the job is finished and the radio crackles again. “Hunter 2-1, this is Baseplate. We received a tip that a small village up the road where you are is the likely origin point of those raiders. The locals report the entire place was taken over the rebels and made it into an ultranationalist training camp and staging area. They’re weakened now after that failed raid, so if you feel up to it, take 2-6 and the attached Apaches to destroy the base. This is NOT an order, this operation is only at your discretion,” Baseplate hastens to add.

“Any estimate on numbers? Any air defense? And what about the civvies?” Foley asks in rapid succession.

“Civvies are long gone, they say the rebels kicked them out. No air defense spotted except the usual man-portable SAMs. Numbers: estimate a single company, minus the ones you just killed. So your rules of engagement are simple: see them, kill them, and don’t worry about collateral damage. We’ll rebuild the village for the civvies later, over.”

“Wilco, baseplate. Orders understood and will proceed at my discretion,” Foley acknowledged. “Up for some impromptu search-and-destroy, Rangers?” he calls out over the intercom.

“Hell yeah! Fly this baby up!” Dunn gets all pumped as Christian and Allen position themselves to the sides of the Chopper while Foley goes to the craft’s co-pilot seat.

Unfortunately, they quickly realize that the mission isn’t going to be as easy as they thought. “Fuck! I see 2 Hinds coming towards us!” Christian announces, pulling back to let the Apaches take the lead, Stinger missiles leaping off the gunships’ wings and streaking towards the surprised Soviet-era Mi-24 heavy assault helicopters, apparently arriving late to support the aborted assault on the base. Despite their heavy armor, both are taken out before they can even get a single shot off, falling in flames and taking their rebel infantry contingent with them.

“Bogeys down, continuing to target,” Christian says as he forms up with the Apaches again and heads for the village, only to see… a series of ZSU-23 “Shilka” self-propelled anti-aircraft guns in position on the streets below, their quad guns old but deadly to the slow-flying transport. “Fuck!” he shouts as the turrets swivel towards them, their crews alert, one exploding immediately from an Apache Hellfire missile strike.

“No air defense my ass…” Foley growls. “Fine, we’re committed now! We need to destroy those things before we can take out the base!” he decides as Dunn opens fire with his mingun making a loud buzzing sound, the heavy AP rounds wrecking a gun and wiping out its crew. But more were waiting as the remaining Shilkas opened up on them, AK and 23mm rounds starting to spatter against the hull, the latter puncturing it.

They were knocking them out, but not fast enough, and the base was now fully rousted. “Shit! How can these lunatics even got hold of those things?!” Liam shouts as he was almost thrown out by a sharp maneuver, Christian trying to dodge what fire he could, but the Blackhawk was taking damage, alarms already sounding in the cockpit as even the Apaches were soon reduced to maneuvering for their lives, trying to dodge a steady hail of fire and occasional SA-14 shoulder-mounted SAM.

“The bird can’t take much more guys! There’s too many of them!” Christian proclaimed.

“Aw, come on! There’s just a couple of those ZSU things left! Let’s kill them and then…” Dunn is cut off as an RPG whizzes past the side of the Blackhawk, just missing the rotors.

With that Foley makes his decision. “Dunn! We’ll deal with them later! This place is too much for us to take down alone! Do you want us all to die? Mission Abort!” he shouts at Christian, who immediately pulls the Blackhawk up sharply, releasing a shower of flares to throw off enemy missile teams. Despite that, an unguided RPG impacts the right side of the transport, blowing a large hole in the fuselage and causing it to swerve out of control.

“Mayday! Mayday! This is Hunter 2-6! We are hit and are going down! I repeat, this is Hunter 2-6 and we’re going down within the enemy base!” Christian shouts into his radio as the Rangers, crew and single Green Beret brace for impact, the transport losing altitude as it spins slowly, leaving a spiral trail of smoke. But just as they are about to crash, a bright light appears in front of them, engulfing the stricken Blackhawk.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!” is all Foley can say before a wave of dizziness and nausea overtakes him, blacking out. Liam and Allen likewise see the bright light engulfing them but are completely blinded by it… and soon they are unconscious as well.

Christian is the first one to wake up, and is surprised to find the chopper is still falling… which some part of his mind insists can’t be as they were bare meters above the ground last he knew. With more altitude to work with, he begins to regain control of his stricken Blackhawk, amazed to find that that the engines were still working despite the RPG hit.

Overcoming the damage, he finally brings the transport into a controlled descent when he sees a strange streak of colorful lines briefly appearing buzzing in front of the chopper and then disappearing behind it. As he works, the others wake up; Liam a bit confused and Foley likewise in disbelief to find they’re not all dead, the latter calling out to his team.

“Hey! Wake up… everyone still alive? Groan if you are…” All of the team do just that, pulling themselves back up and away from the large fuselage hole. Foley then looks out the horizon, finding the sky is still quite dark but uncannily starry, a far cry from the dusty skies of the Iranian border.

“So, where the hell are we?” Foley asks in bewilderment as the Blackhawk continues to slowly descend, noting the sudden lack of lights or AA fire as Dunn stumbles into the cockpit.

“Uh… no idea. But we’re not over the base anymore. Guess we ended up somewhere outside of the village?” suggests Dunn, who is still a bit shaken up.

“Am I even asking you?” Foley shoots his subordinate a look. “Get back to your post, Dunn! Man the minigun until we’re down!” he orders, and the Corporal moves to obey, only to stop short and gape out the window.

“LOOK OUT!!!” Dunn points to a white structure that materializes in front of them in midair, somehow complete with pillars and rainbows, causing Foley and Christian to gape in turn.

“FUCK! TURN YOU BITCH! TURN!!” Christian yanks the stick over as hard as he can to keep them crashing, but not in time to keep them from going right into the structure. All of them brace for impact, awaiting the sound of crashing metal and shattered rotors but…

Nothing happens! They just pass right through, though Foley thinks for a moment he sees… a bed and brightly colored BEDDING?

“Uh, guys… look!” All of them follow what Christian is pointing at and recognize that they passed right through the structure!

“Whoa…” Was the only thing Foley says after seeing the big gaping hole in the cloud structure, the remainder untouched through some of the odd rainbows seem disrupted.

“Is that even a cloud formation?” Liam asks as they continue their descent away from it, still baffled by what happened to it.

“Questions for later. Christian, get us down!” Foley orders as they look for a place to land, finding a grassy field between hills in which to do so. They touch down mercifully without further incident, at which point they all jump out and form a quick perimeter… but there’s nobody around, and the lush, tree-dotted field is anything but like the rugged, semi-arid area they’d been operating in.

“What the fuck…?” Foley asks again. “Where are we?”

“Hmm, That’s odd. This place doesn’t seem to show up on our GPS,” Dunn says as he tries and fails to get a location fix.

“Baseplate, this is Hunter 2-1 reporting, come in, over… Baseplate DO you copy, over?” Christian tries to contact the base with the chopper radio, but gets no reply. “Damn! Rebels must be blocking the signal.”

“We’ll just have to find some high ground, then…” Foley decides as looks around the area. Noting the field was wide with a forest and mountains to the North but more open terrain south, Foley decides where they should proceed to get help.

“Let’s salvage what we can and head for those woods. We’re in hostile territory, folks, so we’ll need some cover. Hopefully we can find some friendly locals too?” he looks to Liam for support.

The Green Beret nods. “There’s a few around. I’ve worked with them. Hopefully we can find someone familiar…”

“That’s the plan, then,” Foley confirms. “Rock and load, Rangers! We don’t know if there’s more of those raiders out there, so be prepared for anything. Dunn, you have point,” he orders as they set out towards the woods under the bright light of the moon.

Meanwhile back in Ponyville, Jackson and Vasquez play cards in the living room of Twilight with the revived tank crew, whom they were already friends with, having fought alongside them for the better part of the past week.

Andrew and John, the rescued Cobra crew, have also been playing, though the latter is on crutches and had a bandaged head. His leg had been broken and yet the pony doctor had been able to somehow reset and refuse the broken ends—giving him an odd vial of glowing liquid and promising if he took it, the bone would heal completely in a matter of days. Though wary, he did so, having had enough examples of pony ‘magic’ that he didn’t doubt the words were true.

Trying to establish some semblance of normalcy in a situation that is anything but, they continue their poker game as Twilight and Spike look on, trying to figure out the rules. The latter is on his feet again, if a bit gingerly, while Applejack and Big Macintosh went home an hour earlier once Spike had woken up and assured them he was fine.

“I got a straight, what do you got?” Jackson says as he shows his hand, some coins and ‘bits’ constituting the pot in the center.

“I got two pair,” John shows his cards then tosses them away in disgust.

“I got higher straight!” A gleeful Andrew announces.

“Hah! I win with a flush!” Vasquez announces, taking the improvised chips off the table.

“Damn it! That’s the third time!” John says in frustration. “Enough. I’m done with losing. Wake me if the Russians come,” he proclaims, standing up and stretching then going to a nearby couch to sleep.

“Sorry, man. Better luck next time?” Andrew starts to deal again when there’s a knock at the door, the hand pausing as Twilight goes to open it.

The moment she did, in flew an angry cyan blue pegasus.

“You’re not gonna believe this, egghead! Somepony made a hole in my house!” she shouts, just as Applejack comes running back in as well.

“Well, you ain’t the only one who had a visitor! Somepony was in my house too! A couple pictures were out of place and there were weird hoofprints in the barn!” Applejack adds, her entire family in tow. “Don’t know what’s goin’ on, but after all Ah’ve heard, the farm ain’t safe for Granny Smith or Apple Bloom. So we’re staying in town for now.”

Sensing the news likely means more humans or human things are around, the Marines immediately abandon their game and go to the door to ask what happened, causing the blue pegasus to blink hard at their sight.

“And just what the hay what are you guys supposed to be?” she asks, flapping over and getting up in the face of Vasquez, looking him over from a hover. “A lot of ponies say there are a bunch of weird apes walking around. Are you some of them?”

“Rainbow Dash, these are guests!” Twilight stamps her hoof at her friend’s rudeness, making quick introductions. “They’re called ‘humans’. They’re not from around here and they don’t know how they got here. And until we figure out a way to send them home, you can be more polite!” she insists, though Rainbow Dash is clearly not convinced of their friendliness, insisting that that ‘something’ crashed through her house, destroying her bed and punching a huge hole in her cloud home!

The marines look back and forth between each other at the news, deciding not to question how a house could be made out of a cloud. Turning his attention to an agitated Applejack, Jackson poses a simple question:

“AJ, you said there were footprints inside your barn?” he asks, but Applejack tilts her head in confusion. “Huh?”

“He means hoofprints,” Twilight clarifies, and Applejack understands that instantly.

“Oh! Yeah, there were! In fact, now that you mention it… they looked a lot like yours!” she pointed at Jackson’s boot.

“Eeyup…” Big Macintosh concurs, even looking slightly perturbed himself. “They weren’t pony, that’s for sure.”

Jackson looks at Vasquez. “If they’re human, could be other friendlies.”

“Could also be rebels,” the lieutenant replies, “and there’s no telling what they’ll do to any ponies they find.” He then issues orders, the marines quickly pulling their gear back on and preparing for a patrol. At Vasquez’s instructions, they split up, Vasquez taking Hanks and following Rainbow, while Jackson takes the rescued tank crew to Applejack’s house, weapons at ready…

Ready for the worst to happen.

Extra 3 - A Hole in the Enemy Lines

After multiple tours of Iraq and Afghanistan, Staff Sergeant Jason Williams thinks he’s seen it all.

The last several days have proven him wrong. From the detonation of a rebel nuke to savage fighting against fanatical and well-equipped rebel forces, the acting head of 3rd platoon, 1st Marine Division Force Reconnaissance Company decides he prefers facing the Taliban and Al Qaeda to Russian ultranationalists on the shores of the Caspian Sea.

Not helping matters are a series of increasingly bizarre reports involving disappearing men and equipment, soldiers and vehicles, and sometimes even entire squads disappearing without a trace.

He can’t do anything about that, but he can do something about a group of Russian Rebels holding out at an abandoned tank factory, where intelligence reports them to be operating an armory and vehicle repair bay. Operating deep inside Iran out of easy support range, his unit has been ordered to link up with a British SAS team to eliminate the opposition and capture at least one of their leaders for interrogation—no small request, he knows, given the rebels typically fight to the last man. But orders are orders, and after a three-hour march, Williams’ platoon arrives at the site just as the sun is coming up, and after an exchange of recognition codes links up with the S.A.S, who have been there for the past day.

“About time you bloody Yanks got here,” says Lieutenant Adams, the ranking SAS officer as his American counterpart enters his makeshift headquarters, though a smile touches his lips as he speaks. “Late to the war, as always.”

“Happy to be of service to you Limeys, Lieutenant,” Williams replies, offering up a quick salute to the British officer before shaking his hand. “What’s the situation?”

In response, the Marine Staff Sergeant is motioned to a building blueprint with friendly and enemy positions marked. “We have them surrounded, but they’ve barricaded themselves inside quite snugly and my unit is too few to storm the building. They’ve booby-trapped the approaches and we think they have a few active BMPs in the garages as well…” Lieutenant Adams briefly explains the situation.

“Enemy strength?” Williams prompts.

“Estimate one platoon,” is the reply. “The remnants of a company we ambushed two days ago. Judging from what a couple captured rebels have told us, we think they have at least two high-value targets, including a bombmaker and district commander.”

“Right…” Williams nods slowly, finding the presence of the bombmaker worrisome—knowing rebel fanaticism, the entire building might be wired to blow in an attempt to take their enemy with them. “Well, if they’ve covered all existing entrances, we’ll just have to make our own.”

“Our thoughts exactly,” Adams confirms. “We’ve identified two possible breach points here... and here,” he points to different places on the building blueprints, one a wall and another on the roof, both well-away from existing windows, skylights and doorways. “But we’ll have to move bloody quick to identify anyone important and keep them from bringing down the building on our heads.”

“And the longer we wait, the more time they have to fortify and booby-trap, so we can’t waste time rehearsing this.” Williams rubs his eyes, wondering again why nothing is ever easy. “We’ve been attached to your unit for the duration of this operation, so… your orders, sir?” he asks his temporary L-T, though the British don’t really use that term.

Adams nods. “Alright, here's the plan. My team will breach the roof, and one of your squads, the wall. The remainder of your platoon will man the perimeter to prevent any escapes and close in if needed,” the SAS officers gives his instructions. “We move in one hour. And if you have any electronic countermeasures you could deploy to prevent remote bomb detonations, we’d appreciate it.”

“Done,” Williams replies, thinking that the hard-won American experience dealing with IEDs in Iraq and Afghanistan has become quite useful in the current conflict.

An hour later, all teams are in position, C-4 charges placed. “Oorah?” Williams says the U.S. Marine battle cry quietly over the radio, asking his marines if they are ready to go.

“Oorah...” comes the series of replies as they grip their weapons tightly, preparing to breach.

The tension rises as a dozen British commandos and an equal number of elite American Recon Marines stand by outside, nervously awaiting the action to come. At the designated time, Adams gives the signal and the charges explode, the marines surging into a back hallway while the British troops rappel down on robes into a large vehicle bay, finding several BMPs and BTRs under repair there—engines off and unmanned. All of them, marine and SAS soldier alike come into the building rifles leveled and ready to gun down anything that moved, expecting startled Russian shouts, the distinctive noise of AK fire, or even worse, triggered explosives or the sharp crack of BMP main guns firing.

But no one is there and no fire comes. After several minutes of searching and finding nothing, they realize the impossible truth—the factory is completely deserted!

“What the hell, Lieutenant? I thought you said you had them cornered?” Williams asks Adams in frustration over the radio, not dropping his guard just yet. They did find a couple hastily placed tripwires over existing entrances, but it is increasingly clear the rebels have not stayed long.

“I… I don’t understand…” Adam’s voice is uncharacteristically bewildered. “We chased them here and exchanged fire with them yesterday! They couldn’t have gotten out without us seeing!” the SAS officer insists, finding offices and armories stripped of anything valuable, papers burned and weapons racks empty.

“Then they must have gotten out by tunnel…” Williams says in disgust, ordering his troops to search the factory for dugouts and hidden bunkers that might mark their possible escape route.

An effort that came to no avail. “Sir, we’ve found nothing… there’s no way out of here aside from the visible exits, not even a fucking mousehole,” his squad leader reports an hour later, his marines having literally ransacked every room. Disbelieving, Williams is about to order them to search again when a marine shouts to get their attention.

“Staff Sergeant! I think I found something! And I promise you won’t believe it!!”

“You ‘promise’, huh?” Williams repeats irritably, but goes to the PFC’s location anyway. “Okay, so what won’t I believe…?” he trails off and his jaw drops open and he and the other marines look on.

What they behold is something Williams can only describe as straight out out of a science fiction movie; a large circular white transparent window-like thing against a cinder-block wall behind except it… except it definitely isn’t a window.

“Sergeant? What’s going on?” Adams breaks in, noting the marines have suddenly fallen silent. “Have you found something?”

“You could say that, sir…” he says wanly, inviting the SAS officer to come see for himself. Despite the solid wall behind—a fact verified by marines who go outside to check—the hole is totally open and they can see clouds and a surprisingly idyllic landscape scene on the other side of it; impossibly, they can even feel a cool breeze coming through it!

“How is this even…?” Williams can’t finish, experimentally poking his rifle barrel through the… portal is the only term that comes to his mind. It passes through without incident, leaving him wondering if a human can pass through… Wait! Was THIS how the rebels escaped...?

He abruptly hears heavy boots coming up behind him as Adams and several of his SAS team join the squad of marines, which parts to let them through. “Sergeant? We’re here, so what couldn’t you just tell us…?” he trails off himself as he beholds a transparent portal as big as a man, with shimmering, iridescent edges leaving him gaping along the rest.

“I think we’ve found their exit, sir,” Williams says in classic understatement.

They initially discuss sending a volunteer through, but with no idea of what awaits them on the other side and no guarantee that anyone who goes through can return, they elect to first send through a camera-equipped Raptor recon drone the SAS team can pilot remotely.

On Adams’ order, the drone is thrown through the portal and immediately takes flight, hovering on the other side. After some quick experimental maneuvers to confirm the remote can still control it and it can pass back through the portal without difficulty, they send it a short distance away from the portal to get a better lay of the land, having it hover a hundred feet up and turn in a slow arc.

What they see is all but beyond belief—it’s like a whole new WORLD! comes Williams’ awestruck thought. The crystal-blue sky is vast and the land beneath is fertile consisting of grassy fields and low, rolling hills dotted with trees. The Raptor scouts the entire area until it spots what appears to be several dwellings or other structures below. Moving in for a closer look, ground movement becomes apparent but they can’t identify the source. The drone takes pictures from several hundred feet up that get recorded on the S.A.S database, but the images are blurry and they can’t make out of the moving figures on the ground.

“Are those the Russians?” Adams asks as he looks closely at the camera feed, the marines and SAS men gather close around the small screen, craning their necks for a look.

“Can’t say for sure without getting closer, sir, ” the drone operator replies, immediately obeying Adams’ instruction to circle away and then come back in lower.

The Raptor returns to its previous position a minute later and sees the figures again; this time the video feed is clear.

“Those are just horses!” Williams gets a bit pissed, though he notes that some of them appear to spot the camera, one even pointing up at it with a hoof. And kind of funny-looking horses at that… wait… did that one have a hat on? he thinks he sees a stetson cowboy hat on one for an instant, but he can’t confirm it as the raptor quickly moves on.

They’re flying the remote UAV back towards the portal to see if they can recover it when a colorful streak suddenly appears, passing close by the camera lens and jostling the drone with its passing, causing everyone watching to instinctively flinch back.

“What the hell was that?!” Adams shouts, and nobody has an immediate answer, all witnessing the same thing. Before any suggestions can be voiced, the streak returns and a new figure suddenly appears directly in front of the camera…

A blue winged horse with a rainbow mane!

“Wh-what?” Williams voices the only words that anyone there can think as the hovering equine figure inspects the drone closely, then somehow grabs hold of it and begins shaking and speaking to it, though they can’t hear what she’s saying. Seemingly annoyed, the strange pony-like creature shakes the raptor once more, hard, and this time succeeds in knocking something loose as the video feed is cut and the operator reports the Raptor is offline.

The silence in the now-abandoned factory is initially total, but is soon broken by the sound of Williams’ fist hitting the desk.

“WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED?!” the veteran marine shouts as his voice echoes all around the cavernous vehicle bay.

“And more to the point, what do we do about it?” a somewhat more restrained Adams wonders aloud, the Marines and SAS men looking to their leaders somewhat nervously. “We’re out of contact with command right now. So if the Russians went through, do we follow?”

There is no immediate answer, but one thing is certain to all present—even if the rebels aren’t there, something else surely is.

Chapter 10 - Allies in the Horizon (Part 2)

Dawn is breaking as Jackson and the rescued War Pig tank crew walk along the road following Applejack to Sweet Apple Acres. The tankers aren’t used to ground patrols, but all marines are trained first and foremost as infantry riflemen, so they know how and Jackson trusts them, especially after all the time they spent fighting together in the city of Ahvaz over the previous week.

“Man, would you look at those apple trees!” PFC Santos, the tank gunner, said while pointing at the countless fruit-laden apple trees in the vast field around them. “Are all these yours, ma’am?”

Applejack seems to swell with pride. “Shore are! This here’s our apple farm, Sweet Apple Acres! Me and mah family own these orchards. Don’t mind sayin’ that we grow the most delicious apples in all Equestria!” the country mare proclaims as she goes through the door and lets them inside, though Jackson orders three of the tank crew to remain on guard outside, taking only Santos in with him. Upon entering, it seems like a fairly stereotypical farm house to him, except for the lack of even basic technology.

“Doesn’t look like anyone’s been here. You sure someone was?” Jackson has to ask.

Applejack gives him an annoyed look. “Y’all think I’m not being honest?” she asks with an offended air, then points to the living room fireplace. “Two of the mantle pictures have been switched! And something big was sittin’ on Granny Smith’s rocking chair!” she next motions to a badly squished seat cushion.

“This way, you should see this too,” Big Mac adds as he motions Jackson to enter the kitchen, pointing with a hoof at the floor at several faint bootprints. It appears to the sergeant that someone made an effort to sweep away the signs of their presence, but didn’t fully, perhaps unable to see well enough in the dark to do so the night before.

“There’s more of those in the barn. We’ve also got some hay outta place and a bunch of apples missing from the pantry, so somepony helped themselves to them! But given those weird hoofprints, ah’m pretty dang sure that this ain't the work of a pony!” Applejack brings her hoof down in anger at the invasion of her home and pantry, wondering who could have done this.

“I hope I’m not being rude here but... is a couple apples and some dumb old hay really any big deal?” Santos whispers to Jackson.

Applejack’s ears flick and she shoots the gunner an annoyed look. “Alright, then tell me this, part’ner... if your house got entered by someone you don't know and they went through your things, helping themselves to your food, how would you feel after all that?” the country mare answers immediately, pointing a hoof at him.

Santos at least has the sense to look chagrined. “Yeah, but...” having lived most of his life on the road or in a barracks, he’s still having difficulty comprehending the idea of a fixed home or how attached one might get to it.

“No buts, Private! It’s their home and food here and we’re going to find out who broke in, whether they’re friendlies or rebels. These ponies fixed you up and have given us their warm homes to sleep in instead of some cave in those monster-infested woods, so put up or shut up!” Jackson snaps back to him as he promises Applejack they would find whoever did this to their house, asking them to stay inside while they search the surrounding area.

Going back outside, he meets up with the rest of his improvised five-man squad. “Whoever was here was definitely human. They were here just a few hours ago so they can’t have gotten far. We should look around for any trace of them,” Jackson instructs, and they promptly act.

“Got a couple footprints over here,” Corporal Alvarez, the tank driver, calls out a couple minutes later, and they follow them cautiously back along the road they came, when they abruptly veer off and head back into the orchards. “Stay sharp,” Jackson orders, his squad fanning out and searching the area cautiously until they spot… a rather impressive looking treehouse that puts anything they ever built as kids to shame.

“Jackson, that’s where the tracks go…” Sergeant Higgins, the tank commander whispers.

“I know. Stay out of sight,” is Jackson’s only reply as the group takes immediate cover, watching carefully for any sign of movement. At length, they see a shadow through a window, and the corner of a curtain pulled aside for a moment.

“Definitely someone inside that thing, Sergeant,” Alvarez points out the obvious, leaving Jackson thinking that if they were rebels, they would have simply taken over the house and not tried to cover their tracks so well, even going so far as to sweep the floor and entry path. That they did spoke of someone well-trained, and with some consideration for civilians… which the ultranationalists rarely showed.

With that, Jackson makes a daring decision. “Cover me, but do NOT fire unless they fire first!” He orders as he stands up, right out in the open, and walks towards the treehouse.

“Hey are you crazy?!” John whispers as he watches him go. There’s a sudden commotion inside the treehouse with sharp but low voices and booted figures rapidly shifting position to meet the perceived threat.

Hearing it himself, Jackson shoulders his weapon and raises his hands. “Hey! Hold your fire! I’m Sgt. Paul Jackson of the 1st Force Recon! Identify yourselves!” he orders.

“Jackson?” A stunned, deep voice replies from inside. “Hey Paul, it's me, Griggs! Remember?”

“Griggs!” Jackson puts down his rifle and remembers Staff Sergeant Griggs from when they were teamed up on a search for Al-Asad.

“I thought you died when that nuke went off in Ahvez, man. Good to see you’re still kicking!” Griggs laughs as he climbs down the ladder and gives his comrade an affectionate handclasp and shoulder clap. “Come on out, sirs! These are friendlies!” he calls back.

“Wait, there are others?” Jackson looks inside as three other figures, SAS by their garb and weapons, emerge from the treehouse, looking surprised but very relieved to see American faces.

“Bloody hell, I'm surprised that the dragon didn't eat you alive!” Gaz said as he walks out the cave.

“Dragon…?” Jackson barely blinks as he salutes the British officers, the tank crewmen following suit..

The SAS men all shiver for a moment. “No joke, Sergeant—we got chased by a dragon and attacked by werewolves in those woods!” Soap motions with a thumb over his shoulder. “That’s why we weren’t about to go back in there, but we found this treehouse instead…”

“Who built that thing? My daughter and her friends would love it!” Higgins wonders aloud, the rest of the squad walking around it, inspecting the elaborate from the ground.

The new arrivals all gave them funny looks. “We just said we saw werewolves and a dragon, and yet you’re asking about the Treehouse?” Captain Price asks.

“After escaping a nuke blast and everything else we’ve already seen, nothing surprises us now,” Santos shrugs.

“We believe you, Captain. in fact, we’ve all already met a dragon ourselves here,” Jackson notes, causing Griggs and the SAS officers to gape again. “Sounds like the one you met wasn’t a baby, though. And werewolves could be those ‘diamond dogs’ Vasquez mentioned running into,” he nods to himself. “Take it you haven’t run into the ponies yet?”

“Ponies?” The entire group echoes.

Jackson actually smiles—having already been through it himself, he’s starting to enjoy seeing the reactions of others to learning of them, and so is the tank crew, judging by the smirks on their faces. “Ponies,” he confirms, to the chuckles of his improvised squad.

“Sergeant… forgive my lack of politeness as I’ve had a long day and little sleep, but… What the bloody hell are you on about?” Soap all but yells. “Diamond dogs? Talking ponies? Where on earth are we?” he demands to know, finally losing what little British reserve he has left.

Infuriatingly, Jackson just smiles even more broadly. “Well, sorry to say, sirs, but… we’re not on earth anymore. We’re on another world called Equestria, one populated by talking ponies and a few other races,” even after a day already spent there, the sergeant can scarcely believe he can say those words and not be freaked by it. “It’s crazy, but it’s the truth.”

“Well actually, that would explain all those pony-themed toys, crayon drawings and balloon animal we saw up there…” Griggs allows with nod back to the treehouses. “Not to mention those pictures of ponies inside the house. And I guess after a dragon and those wolf-things, talking horses would be the least of our worries.”

“Trust me, you don’t have to worry about them at all. They’re friendly, unlike the others. Pretty amazing what they can do, too,” Hanks spoke up. “We can even introduce you to a couple right now. And afterwards… we’ll take you into town; find a place for you guys to stay. And we should probably think about organizing a defense. Never mind dragons, there are rebels around.”

“Fine…” was all Powers would say, numbly following the Sergeant back to the farmhouse they entered the night before, where the front door opened.

A county-accented yellow-orange pony mare with a stetson hat along her brother, a larger dark red stallion with a blonde hair and a yoke over his shoulders. “So are y’all the ones who invaded our house last night?” she demanded to know, looking over the newcomers unfavorably, marching right up Gaz to glare at him, completely unintimidated by their larger size or strange gear. “Y’all scared my little sister and nearly gave Granny Smith a heart attack when we came back and realized somepony had broken in!”

“Eeyup…” Big Macintosh confirmed, giving the SAS men a leery look.

Gaz is at a loss, and the others aren’t much better. This ‘pony’ stands barely-chest high, and her large green eyes are disconcerting, never mind her bright coat colors or the fact that she can talk. “A-apologies, ma’am… we’d been walking all night and were in need of shelter… we left when we realized your home was being lived in...” he offers somewhat weakly.

Applejack isn’t impressed. “And why the hay would you think it wasn’t?” she demands to know, poking the SAS Lieutenant hard in the belly with a hoof, making him flinch back a bit. “And did you enjoy those apples you helped yourself to right out of our pantry?”

“AJ, they were hungry and didn’t mean to violate your privacy. They said they were running all night from a dragon and diamond dogs,” Jackson offers.

“A dragon?” Applejack blinks, exchanging a quick but dubious look with Big Mac. “Seriously? It ain’t nowhere near time for the migration!”

No sooner does she speak those words when there’s a loud roar and shadow passing overhead.

“FUCK! It’s the Dragon!” shouts Gaz, raising his rifle and looking for cover as the monstrous red-scaled creature appears ahead, setting its eyes on the farm below. Unlike the last time they saw it, there’s a large hole in the webbing of one of its wings, perhaps from a rebel rocket-propelled grenade.

Applejack and Big Macintosh gape for a moment. “What the hay is that thing doing here?” she asks as the monstrous creature incinerates her barn in a single gout of flame. “Dangnabit, not again!” she slaps her forehead with her hoof.

“I think we got bigger problems than our barn, AJ!” an unusually alarmed Big Macintosh pulls her sister back as the marines and SAS men take any cover they can find, under nearby carts and apple trees. “We need help!”

“God damn, that thing’s huge!!” Jackson looks up high as the dragon in the sky dives towards them. Everyone starts shooting at the beast as it lays down a fresh line of fire across the field towards them, only to abruptly abort its run, perhaps in response to the sharp stings it was feeling from dozens of assault rifle bullets, swooping up and away, then circling above like it was considering its next move.

“Fuck… if that thing heads for town we’re all screwed!” John said as he reloads.

“Don’t suppose any of you have a Stinger missile?” Captain Price suggests, still hoping against hope that he’s going to wake up and it will all be a bad dream, thinking he’d rather face the nuke base than a dragon. Better the devil you know… “It’s the only thing that might kill this bloody bastard!”

“No stingers, but…” Jackson suddenly looks at the tank crew, all of them having the same idea at once. “War Pig!” They shout together.

Griggs and the SAS group look at him like he’s crazy again. “War Pig? They have pigs that fight wars here?” Gaz asks sarcastically, only to realize… after everything else he’s seen, they just might.

“War Pig is a tank! It crossed over with us somehow! It’s back in town, and if we can get to it fast enough...” the rest doesn’t need to be said.

“It’ll take five minutes to get there even if we run sir! And without cover, we’re dead if we try!” Higgins warns from under an apple tree with Santos, and Jackson realizes he’s right—they’d have no chance out in the open.

“Wait!” Applejack calls out. “Back in town? You mean that big metal thing at town hall?” she shouts to be heard over the roar of the dragon and human weapons. Any other time she’d be amazed and alarmed by the latter, but there are other things to worry about right then.

“Yes!” Jackson confirms. “It’s called a tank—a large mobile weapon! It might be able to defend against the dragon, but if we can’t get to it…”

“Then times-a-wastin’, Big Mac!” Applejack fearlessly braves another gout of fire to dash to a nearby shed, and Big Mac is right behind her as they enter and then reappear just a few seconds later harnessed to a large wagon, the pair bringing it before the marines. “Pile in! Big Mac and I’ll get y’all there lickety-split!” she promises as the dragon shoots back up out of effective rifle range, his breath menacingly smoking as it prepares to attack again.

Price is dubious, but recognizes that their options are few—they can’t outrun the flying beast, and sooner or later their ammo will run dry or the dragon’s breath will find them. “It’s our only chance! Everyone get in, that’s an order!” the SAS captain says, making a sprint for the cart himself.

Once they’re all in, Applejack pinwheels her hooves and orders the humans to hold on tight as the dragon is now coming up fast from behind. He breaths fire but the wagon surges forward out just before the flames reach them, though close enough that the marines and SAS men still feel like they just looked into the face of a blast furnace. The pony pair putting on speed and astonishingly having no problem pulling the large load, the wagon begins moving at a breakneck pace along the rough road, the marines hanging on for dear life until they reach the smoother main road that adjoins the farm. The dragon follows but incredibly is only barely able to keep pace, the special forces soldiers and marines firing at it out the back, keeping it at bay.

Despite their small size, the pair are blazingly fast, covering the distance between their farm and Town Hall in less than two minutes. When they arrive, they find that town is already in consternation, having seen the pursuing dragon, ponies darting to and fro as the large cart skids to a halt by the tank, its turret and 120mm smoothbore main gun still skewed left. “Get that tank up!” Captain Price orders needlessly as the tank crew scrambles to ready the big beast, climbing in hatches as the dragon begins orbiting overhead, screeching angrily, the blasted hole in his wing and wound in his belly now very apparent.

“What the hell is it doing?!” Griggs shouts, as he reloads, praying the ammunition holds out until War Pig is online.

“Just cover them!” Soap shouts back as he fires a 40mm grenade from his M4A1’s lower launcher that finds its mark, exploding against the dragon’s belly, causing it give a high-pitched scream. He hopes for a moment that they’ve crippled it, but when the smoke clears, all they see is a few singed and damaged scales, a slight trickle of blood apparent between them…

He realizes with a sinking heart that for all the hits it’s taken, all they’ve really done is made it mad. Where’s a black arrow when we need one???

At that moment a new set of voices is heard. “Sergeant? What’s going on?” a marine lieutenant calls out as he answers his own question by looking upwards and gaping, more friendlies in tow.

“Dragon, L-T!” Jackson shouts back, his statement punctuated by a sudden fresh gout of flame that takes out a courtyard tree and sends ponies scrambling and screaming in fear.

All except one. “Whoa! Is that a dragon?” a winged blue pony calls out, impossibly flying right up to Jackson, hovering off his left shoulder.

“Yeah! Take cover, Rainbow!” he orders. “We’re gonna try and take it out with the tank, but we need some time to get it ready!”

Rainbow gives him an incredulous look. “Take cover? Fat chance!” she shouts, then shoots upward on a rainbow trail to challenge the beast.

“Damnit Rainbow! Hold your fire!” Vasquez shouts, as yet unaware he’s outranked by the SAS men, but they obey him anyway, stopping to watch as the blue pegasus buzzes the large beast, running rings around it and grabbing its attention. It breathes fire repeatedly but can’t turn fast enough to catch the agile pony flyer, who occasionally insults it further with a taunts and sharp kicks to its belly and chin, inviting it to follow her… which it does, increasingly incensed.

She’s either really brave or really STUPID! Vasquez still hadn’t decided as suddenly War Pig rumbled to life, scaring the already-frightened ponies further.

To his surprise, Foley spoke up from behind him. “Everyone, Calm down!” the sergeant stood up and said, getting all present to turn their attention on him.

“They prefer if you say Everypony!” Hanks whispers to Foley.

Be blinked. “Right~ Okay, everypony listen up! Stay calm and stay inside your houses! We will do our best to protect you from that dragon!” he says as the tank’s turret begins to turn, the crew hurriedly testing its systems.

“Engine working, wheels turning!” Corporal Alvarez says from the driver’s seat, alternating forward and reverse for both tracks, causing the tank to pivot in place.

“Gun traversing, coax ready!” the gunner, PFC Cooley, announces.

“HEAT round up!” PFC Santos calls, slamming home a high-explosive antitank round into the gun breach.

“Then let’s get some!” Sergeant Higgins calls out at the tank begins moving out into the courtyard, turret turning and main gun rising to target the dragon...

Chapter 11 - Black Dragon Down

Vasquez watches as the Abrams rolls forward and turret slews to face the dragon, its cannon pointing skyward to where the dragon is still trying to deal with . “Rainbow! GET CLEAR!” he shouts to be heard over the War Pig’s throaty diesel engine. He didn’t think there was any way the sky-blue pegasus pony could hear him, but her head turns towards the ground and her eyes widen as she spots the tank moving towards her, quickly darting away.

There was a massive BOOM! as the Abrams main gun fired, the concussion wave strong enough to shatter nearby windows and leaving nearby ponies cowering, wondering which was the bigger monster—the dragon or the metal beast. There was a streak of light and a sudden flash as the 120mm round found its mark against the creature’s chest, which erupted in blood and flame.

The rough tank equivalent of a hollow-point bullet, the HEAT round penetrates and detonates inside the beast’s belly, doing massive damage and seemingly setting off its entire internal furnace at once. It writhes in agony in midair, managing a single agonized scream that is quickly silenced when its chest explodes; the remains of the dragon then plummets to earth, showering the area with its flaming remains.

After dodging the debris, the marines and SAS men erupt in cheers as awestruck ponies emerge from their homes, some pegasi quickly moving in clouds to put out the fires. “Whoa! That was totally awesome!” Rainbow Dash proclaims, putting on a celebratory aerial display. “You guys rule!”

“Thanks, Rainbow… but so were you!” Jackson sighs in relief. “The way you were willing to take on that dragon? You distracted it and bought us the time we needed. You saved us and the town, Rainbow!”

She blushes and preens. “It was nothing.”

“That weren’t ‘nothin’, Rainbow!” Applejack comes out from underneath the overturned carriage they’d arrived in, clapping Rainbow hard on the back with a hoof. “The Wonderbolts’ll take you fer sure now!”

“That’s if we survive the next two minutes…” a suddenly tense Gaz says, pointing up on the sky again. As one, they turn and behold… two more dragons swooping in, one white and one black, having seemingly heard the anguished cries of their brethren. Cheers immediately turn to panicked pony screams as the pair immediately dive on the tank, recognizing the creature that slew their kin.

Higgins and the rest of the tank crew hurriedly buttons up as the lead dragon open its maw and breathes massive gouts of flame on it, bathing War Pig in fire.

“Woah! Shit!” Griggs drops down as the trailing dragon spews fire at them. Price and Soap neatly dodge the flames, but Hanks is hit, his right arm wreathed in flame.

“MAN DOWN!!” Griggs shouts as he lifts John to a safe distance, the latter screaming in pain as the burn grows more painful with every second that passes. “Get some water! Quick!” he shouts back at Applejack, the latter quickly moving to obey while Rainbow Dash streaks into the sky again, trying to repeat her earlier feat, even shouting orders to some nearby pegasi, which immediately streak off as well.

Griggs isn’t sure what she’s doing, but doesn’t care either. “Fuck that damn thing! If had a Stinger I’d take that sucker down myself!” the staff sergeant said as he jabbed Hanks with a morphine injector, trying to ease the pain in his right arm. Griggs tore off his flak jacket to let air in, but when he got a good look he realizes the burn is untreatable. The flesh and muscle is blackened almost to the bone, the outer layers crumbling at the barest touch. The smell is sickening and even if they get him back to a formal medical facility hospital his only option will be amputation.

Despite the destruction of most of his nerves in the limb, John screams as he feels more pain than ever in his life. It’s a fate that awaits them all, Griggs is certain as he does what he can for the wounded copilot, hearing the frantic firing of the marines and SAS men around him.

But just when all hope seemed lost, War Pig emerged from the inferno it was engulfed in, surging forward out of the flame, visibly blackened and its commander’s top-mounted MG partially melted but the M1A2 tank itself protected by its depleted uranium armor and NBC (Nuclear/Biological/Chemical) overpressure protective system, designed to keep the crew safe and tank fighting in even the most hostile environments.

“HELL YEAH!!” Dunn shouts in relief as he sees the tank open up on the black dragon with its still-intact coaxially-mounted machine gun as he joins the counterattack, firing upwards with his SAW. “GET SOME!” he yells as the dragon receives full amounts of lead through its skin, its wings peppered with holes and squawking with pain before it flies out of view.

“Shit, is that all you got BITCH?” Dunn continues to mock the dragon as it flies away, but his smile vanishes as the white dragon picks up with their black one left off, seemingly targeting him specifically. Worse for the Corporal, he’s now out in the open and his SAW has just clicked empty as the dragon opens its mouth, fire visible in its depths.

At that moment, there’s a bright flash and crack! as the dragon suddenly recoils, a smoking spot on the side of its head. It spins to see.. Rainbow Dash and several other pegasi wielding clouds as weapons, launching lightning bolts out of them with simple kicks, forcing the beast back.

Wow! Rainbow wasn’t kidding; they really CAN use weather as a weapon! Vasquez notes as Big Mac gallops up and pulls a frozen-in-fear Dunn to safety, yanking him backwards by his uniform collar.

As the dragon turns its attention on the new threat, the distraction the pegasi afforded allowed War Pig to once again take aim. “HEAT round UP!” Santos calls as the tank pivots and locks on target, dripping sweat and his cheeks feeling like they’d received a severe sunburn from the dragonfire—the tank protected them from the flames, but didn’t stop the interior from heating up dangerously. It was now nearly as hot as an oven inside, but they didn’t dare open the vents or hatches.

“Just keep flying straight, you bastard!” Cooley readies his cannon as Higgins adjusts the aim.

“Steady on target!” the tank commander calls, hoping they won’t hit the pegasi. “A little more left... there, FIRE!” he triggers the gun himself.

The cannon booms a second time sending another 120mm HEAT round flying towards the white dragon. It finds its mark again, but this only time only hits the beast’s shoulder, which erupts in a spray of blood as the round passes straight through, leaving a very large and ugly exit wound. It screams in pain and flies off, wounded, the pegasi dogging it with additional lightning strikes the whole way.

“He’s done! Two down!” Price proclaims, barely able to believe they might actually live through this fight. “And where’s the…?” he scans for the third and final dragon, the black one, only to see it bearing down hard on the tank from behind, its gun pointed helplessly the other way and showing its vulnerable rear armor. The dragon bathes the tank in flames again then simply lands on it and, immune to its own fire, begins clawing at it, ripping apart its engine vents and tracks with sheer strength until the heat of its flame finally explodes the exposed engine, the tank falling silent and shredded tracks themselves starting to melt.

“Shit, War Pig’s down! We’re screwed!” Sensing it himself, the dragon seems to smile and leaves the broken beast behind, concentrating its efforts on the lesser threats--the humans and pegasi still stinging it as the tank crew began to bail out of their stricken, smoking Abrams, making it just before the ammunition started to cook off, gouts of flame spouting out the back.
Instead of flying, the dragon simply storms forward on the ground and spew flames again, the courtyard trees incinerated one after another as the dragon burned the entire area, completing ignoring the slackening fire of the marines and SAS men, a skyward-directed gout of flame driving off the pegasi and reducing the clouds to wisps.

Hanks watched as the final dragon continues its rampage..

“Hey! Anyone got a javelin?!” Price shouted at the new marine arrivals from , referring to a guided antitank missile.

“There’s no stingers or javelin, the tank was all we had!” Vasquez answers, realizing his ammunition is almost gone. He fires a fresh 40mm grenade round at the dragon but it never makes it, detonated by wall of fire before impacting.

“Goddamn it!” Price shouted out of frustration as his rifle clicks empty and the dragon closes on them, advancing a wall of flame as its goes, reducing their cover and slowly cornering its quarry, which included Griggs and the SAS men.

“We are so fucking dead…” was all Griggs could say as he tended Hanks, a sickened Applejack pouring water over the the copilot’s ruined arm. THey watched as the dragon’s head turned towards the British troops.

Suddenly there was a flash and a beam of bright violet energy lanced out, striking the dragon in the neck and making it recoil in surprise. The three SAS men blinked and suddenly… Twilight Sparkle was standing in front of them, her horn aglow. “Run!” she shouts back at them when the flames had dissipated, trying to draw the dragon’s attention long enough for the their guests to escape.

The dragon immediately marched on her and released a fresh gout of flame, but there was another flash before it hit and suddenly… the violet unicorn was standing on the other side of the dragon, duplicating her feat, hitting it again with another fresh magical strike. Her eyes were wide and fearful but her face set, determined to protect her friends... both old and new.

To her horror, the dragon ignored her and this time turned its attention on the tank crew, who were gathered together, uselessly leveling their own pistols and rifles. It seems they would all die together until Twilight materialized directly in front of them along with a translucent violet shield, deflecting the flames. “T-Twilight?” a stunned Alvarez asked, scarcely able to believe what he was seeing, or that any of them were still alive.

“Can’t... hold this… for long!” she hissed out for gritted teeth, struggling to maintain her shield spell in the face of the dragon’s onslaught.

Wounded and watching the events transpire, Sergeant John Hanks realized two things--that he could not bear the pain anymore and if something wasn’t done, they were all going to die. A sudden resolution taking hold of him despite his shock, he grabbed the grenade belt attached to Griggs’ chest with his good hand, and then ran across the field towards the dragon like a demon possessed.

“HEY!!” Griggs shouts at the moment he took the grenades, Applejack watching in confusion, wishing there was something more she could do. She could see Rainbow was trying to organize another assault by the Ponyville weather team, but it would take them a while to obtain more storm clouds, and she wasn’t sure how much good they could do anyway against this black monster.

“What's he doing?!” Price asks as he sees the wounded marine running right at the Dragon.

“No! You fool, where are you going?!” Soap shouts after him.

“Get back here you bloody idiot!” Gaz tries to stop him, but his words are ignored.

John stops in front of the dragon and tries to get its attention, making all sorts of noise and sounds for the dragon to see him.

“HEY! MOTHER FUCKER!! YOU WANT ME? COME AND GET ME!!” Hanks shouts as the dragon turns to him, considers him for a moment, decides it likes its meat raw then reaches down for him, opening his mouth to devour him.

“That's right.. Come to me you piece of shit!” are the only words he says as he clutches the grenade belt to him and pulls the pin of one just as the dragon takes a huge bite out of him, swallowing him whole to the horror of all.

“JONATHAN!!!” Jackson shouts as he and the others witness the dragon devour Hanks, licking its chops before looking around for its next meal… not knowing it just had its last as bare seconds later, the grenades detonate in its throat.

“Hit the deck!” Griggs cries out. All of them took cover as the dragon’s neck exploded, followed by its chest as its internal fire was abruptly vented, sending hundreds of its chunks all around the courtyard, showering human and pony alike. A shellshocked Dunn was unfortunate enough to be hit by a large piece of burnt meat in the face, while Soap would soon need his namesake, covered in bloody gore.

When it was over the group stands in the sudden still, only the crackling of flames breaking the silence. There are no cheers of victory, there are no congratulations. For one of their own has fallen.

A hero who sacrificed his life to slay a dragon.

Chapter 12 - War and Rememberance.

“Those guys were awesome!!” Scootaloo says for the two hundredth time in the past three days. She jumps from joy yet again, her small wings flapping so quickly they almost can’t be seen.

“Yeah, did y’all see how they fought those dragons? They were all like… BOOM! and POW!!” Apple Bloom proclaims as she makes a little reenactment of the battle three days earlier, rearing up and making motions like she’s firing a rifle.

“I know right? Wish I could be like that someday!” Scootaloo says while looking wistfully out the window. “And that ‘tank’ of theirs… that’s like the sweetest ride ever! Sure is a shame they can’t get it working again… I’d wanna ride that thing!”

Then she notices both her friends giving her an odd expression. “What?”

“Uh… ‘scuse me.. But Rarity won’t approve o’ that, Sweetie Belle,” Apple Bloom explains, but her unicorn friend just puffs at her. “She already said you weren’t allowed to go near ‘that utter monstrosity’.” She pulls off a surprisingly good imitation of Rarity’s voice. “They’re still cleanin’ up those dragon bodies and puttin’ the town back to rights. Smells awful over there. Still lots of broken glass around too.”

“Yeah, those ‘marines’ said you shouldn’t go near that ‘war pig’ either,” Scootaloo adds. “Too many sharp edges and ‘un-sploded rounds’, whatever that means.”

“Well, it can’t hurt to dream!” Sweetie Belle says back and hops off the chair near the window. “Those big metal carts of theirs are just so cool! I wonder if they can get that flying one out in the meadow workin’ again?” she muses as she walks out the door.

“So where you going?” Scootaloo asks as she leaves the clubhouse.

“Its getting late, you know… we should all go home,” the unicorn filly replies as they all look outside, realizing it’s starting to get dark… and they’ve been warned not to be out past sunset with all the strange vehicles and visitors around, not all of which are believed to be friendly. So they all go out together and pile into Scootaloo’s wagon, who dons her helmet and beats her wings like a hummingbird, pulling them rapidly down the path towards the Apple family homestead.

Back at that homestead, cooking smells are prevalent. Big Mac is wearing an apron and has large pots of grits and apples on the stove while Griggs and Soap prepare various veggies. Meanwhile, a now-healed Major Wallace gets the cart from outside, at Big Mac’s instructions, to load up and bring the food to town. The Cobra pilot has a very hard time pulling it to the house, giving him a new appreciation of how strong Applejack and Big Mac are to pull the full cart as fast they did to the battle against the dragons three days earlier.

“Have to say, it’s been quite awhile since I’ve been on KP…” Soap muses as he peels some potatoes and add it to a pot. Oh by the way, I’ve been meaning to ask, Big Mac. Why don’t we just cook all this in town? Wouldn’t it be less time consuming? And surely it will be cold by the time we get there?” he asks as he finishes his batch.

He expects a simply ‘eeyup’ or ‘nope’ from the big red stallion as he’s heard so many times in the past, but is surprised to receive a full answer instead. “Well… we could, but it’d be more difficult. Lugging all the cooking equipment and ingredients takes so much space that we’d need a second trip just for the food. That’s a mite bit o’ hassle. So let’s just cook it up here, to make only one trip there,” Big Mac explains in a deep but clear voice, leaving both humans at a loss for words. “And we can use warming gems to keep the pots hot.”

“So you can talk!” Soap exclaims without thinking.

“Eeyup,” Big Mac replies with the barest of smiles, leaving Soap and Griggs wondering if they’re being teased by the large earth pony stallion who is also surprisingly dextrous with his hooves. “Soon as we’re done here, we’ll load up the wagon and get this all into town… and y’all don’t even have to fight a dragon this time. Reckon it’d be a nice change of pace,” he smirks, causing the others to groan.

* * * * *

Despite all that happened in the past week, the town mood is surprisingly festive, Lieutenant Vasquez notes.

With the defeat of the dragons at the hands of their new friends and repairs underway, the dragon carcasses removed and the town square more or less restored to rights, the ponies make plans to thank and welcome their guests properly, promising to fete them with a feast and celebration despite their protests and warnings that there are still other, more hostile humans around.

The town is at least now more secure against them, he knows. Ponies have brought them other human items they’ve found all around town and nearby it, boxes of supplies and ammunition that replenish the ones they’ve lost. The most notable additions to their arsenal are a single Javelin and loaded stinger missile launcher, which at least gave them something capable of bringing down dragons again should they return. Rainbow Dash had turned in a damaged Raptor recon drone and the Apple Family had even discovered a usable humvee with a top-mounted .50-cal lying on its side at the edge of Sweet Apple Acres. Vasquez had personally retrieved it, giving Applejack a ride. He grins at the memory of how she’d loved its speed and power, standing up in the gunner’s seat and shouting “YEE-HAW!” as she waved her Stetson around, urging more from the metal beast.

There are other changes as well. Fresh from the Equestrian Capital of Canterlot—are all names a pun on human ones, the Lieutenant wonders?—a company of Equestrian soldiers called ‘Guardsponies’ are now stationed in town, powerful-looking armored stallions ready to defend it with spear, blade and magic. The human soldiers are dubious at first, until the guardsponies demonstrate their capabilities. The unicorns are able to project shields and fire magical beams while the earth ponies, far from useless, have strength and speed to spare; they’re equipped with foreleg mounted crossbows that can penetrate kevlar and can throw spears with enough force to slice right through trees. They all wear ‘enchanted’ armor which can deflect glancing shots and shell fragments; some unicorns are even equipped with longbows that give them surprisingly good range, able to magically guide their arrows to target and enchant them to various effects.

Though impressive, he hopes their skills in modern warfare will not be tested. The rebels have not made any further appearances, though there are sketchy reports from ‘Wonderbolts’ overflying the Everfree of some kind of rebel camp and a possible collection of vehicles.

But such concerns are for later as the festivities quickly come together. And the ringleader of ceremonies, over at town hall… is a certain pink earth pony known as Pinkie Pie, darting to and fro as she prepares the town for a grand welcome party to their visitors. At her side, another unicorn named Rarity decorates the entire place, much as she once did the summer sun celebration, she herself explains. And fittingly, the ruler of the ponies, Princess Celestia, promises to attend, leaving him wondering what a princess of ponies will look like, still not believing that she actually raises and lowers the sun.

“Oh my, this will never do!” Rarity sifts through a box of ribbons and streamers beside her as she searches for the right color. She then finds what she is looking for and puts it on top of the building… right below the U.S. and British flags now hanging on equal footing with the Equestrian one. She’d made them herself using the shoulder patches on the human soldiers as a template, and the soldiers themselves had raised them over town hall at dawn the next day… only to just as immediately lower them to half-staff in honor of their fallen comrade, giving him a makeshift funeral service that the entire town had attended. An improvised gravestone marks the spot he sacrificed himself to save the town; he and the burnt-out remains of War Pig had become a makeshift memorial where flowers and thank-you notes are left by grateful townsponies.

The newly decorated town hall is a colorful sight to behold for the Rangers, Marines and the S.A.S. men, as they have never seen or received a party such as this for them alone. The outpouring of sympathy is welcome as it’s something they so rarely receive, unlike so many dangerous missions they finish and never even got a simple thank-you for, either from civilians or their superiors. “Will you look at that? A party for us… How nice,” Lieutenant Vasquez nods his appreciation, admiring the decorations and plentiful desserts. His rifle is on his back, loaded and within easy reach just in case, but with sentries set and pegasi patrolling, he’s confident there’s no way Rebel forces can sneak up on them. “So where’s Sergeant Jackson?” he asks Foley, who’s standing near the doorway, but the veteran Ranger just shakes his head.

“He’s back at the Treehouse. Hasn’t left since the memorial service. I told him to get out and take a walk or something, but he just told me to get lost.”

Vasquez nods sadly. “Guess he still feels responsible for John’s death…” he notes, then looks back at Foley. “And how’s Twilight’s doing? She saved our butts the other day but was pretty shaken up.”

“I think she’s okay. Having Jackson take care of her seems to be helping,” he notes. “Her friends are checking up on her too. She’s also keeping herself busy that basement lab of hers, trying to figure out a way to synthesize our fuel.”

He nods at that, knowing that if Twilight is successful in her efforts, they’d gain use of their vehicles again and might even be able to get their Blackhawk flying once more with some spit-and-bailing wire repair work on the RPG damage. They’d told her that in their world, there were ways to produce vehicle gas from plant sugars via bacteria-fed fermentation, giving her samples of the Blackhawk’s aviation fuel and the Humvee’s diesel to work from. Intrigued, she’d immediately set out to duplicate such a curious feat, barely leaving her basement lab.

“And Spike?” Vasquez wonders. “Ain’t seen him the last couple days.”

Foley’s expression drops. “He’s healed now but still in shock. Barely leaves Twilight’s side. He knows the dragons were bad guys, but… they’re still his kin, you know?” The Army Ranger Sergeant notes sadly. “I think he’s most worried that that’s what he’s going to turn into some day—a monster. He insists most dragons aren’t like that and something must have set them off.”

“Can only imagine what that’s like,” the Lieutenant acknowledges somberly. “I’ll see if I can talk to Jackson. Order him out if I have to.”

“Good luck, L-T,” Foley is just happy it isn’t him, though his thoughts are quickly scattered as his stomach growls. “Well, damn. Party’s not for another hour, but I’m hungry now.”

“Hey, if you want you can go to Sugar Cube Corner to get a cupcake and some coffee, go for it. They’re really good you know,” Vasquez says. “You’re off duty, so go ahead. Gillespie’s group and the Tankers have the watch right now.”

Foley makes a face at him. “You keep telling me go there. But look, if that corner is made out of sugar cubes like some Hansel and Gretel House… then this place has officially jumped the shark.”

Vasquez thinks that between somehow being pulled there by a nuke, the dragons, the diamond dogs, the cloud houses and talking ponies who can grow food, use magic or fly, Equestria jumped the shark a long time ago. “Don’t worry. I went there yesterday. Twilight told me about it so I went and was pleasantly surprised. It’s where Pinkie works, but trust me, it really isn’t made out of sugar cubes,” he chuckles, remembering his first meeting with the pink earth pony and how over-the-top her antics are, all but stuffing one of her trademark pink-frosted cupcakes in his mouth. “And the coffee is light-years better than anything we get back home, too…”

Foley thanks the marine Lieutenant, who’d he’d quickly come to respect. As Vasquez heads inside, he thinks about what his new L-T had said, having second thoughts if he wants to go or not. Just then he sees a little pony with a large red bow on its head pass by, glancing at him repeatedly and acting like she’s trying to work up the nerve to come closer.

Seeing that, he decides to invite her. “Hey there, could you come over here a bit?” Foley calls to her.

Startled, she obeys, trying not to look too eager. “Oh! Uh, yes? W-Wha’ can I do you fer, sir?” She said looking at the Marine, not hiding her excitement over getting to talk to him very well.

Foley can’t help but smile at that. “You were watching us from the bushes by Town Hall when we were fighting that dragon. Am I right?” the tall dark-skinned US Army Ranger said to her with a sideways look, making her blush a bit.

“Howdja know we were there?” she asks, her cheeks turning the same color as her bow.

“Well it’s a little hard to miss that big ol’ bow of yours poking out of the bushes,” he told her with a grin, and she literally went red all over, going even more nervous. “That wasn’t safe, you know,” he admonishes her gently.

“Oh. Well, Ah-Ah know that, but… we had to see! Just, uh… d-don’t tell Applejack okay? She’d ground me if she found out!” she begs him.

Foley laughs a bit. “So you’re AJ’s little sister, huh? What’s your name, filly?” he asks the curious but utterly adorable pony girl before him.

“Apple Bloom, sir,” she replies politely. Foley smiles and gives her a pat on the head, scratching her briefly behind the ears, causing her eyes to widen at the unfamiliar but pleasant sensation of his fingers digging in there. Then he takes something out of his pocket…

“Well there, Apple Bloom… got a little something for you,” Foley gives her a small jewel pendant on a thin white chain made up of small pink local crystals that he found on the ground in an abandoned house back in Iran; a child’s toy he’d hoped to return or at least pass on someday… and decides now is as good a time as any as he puts it around her neck. “Looks good on you… it matches your mane!”

“Wow! T-thank you sir!” She hops around almost giddily as he watches, excitedly showing off the gift to her two friends who are hanging around the still-growing dessert table. Satisfied, the Army Ranger Sergeant sits down and waits for the party to begin, finally happy to take some improvised leave after the wall-to-wall combat of the previous few weeks.

His relaxed mood ends abruptly when the town leader, rather unimaginatively called Mayor Mare, comes out of the building along with a curious blue-suited pegasi wearing flight goggles. Seeing Foley, the latter immediately flies up to him and asks to speak with him privately about ‘an urgent matter’, inviting him inside the Mayor’s office. Surprised but quickly agreeing, Foley follows them inside Town Hall.

Meanwhile, Vasquez tries talking to Jackson, who sits in a darkened room, unshaven and unkempt. To his surprise, Twilight is there, speaking comfort to him, taking a break from her work in her lab. Vasquez gently asks her to leave as he can, saying he wants to talk to his subordinate alone.

He goes up and puts a hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Jackson? Hey, man. Let’s go, it’s our welcoming party! Ponies are really going all-out for us. So why so glum?” he asks the other

“John’s dead because of me, L-T,” Jackson replies in a very dull voice while staring at the blank wall before him.

“It’s not your fault, Jackson,” Vasquez replies evenly, but the Sergeant only shakes his head sharply.

“It is man! If I told him to stay, he could still be alive now!” Jackson punches the wall, releasing and putting all his anger out of himself.

“And we all could be dead and the town destroyed. Look, he did what he had to, and it was a fucking brave and selfless thing to do. We ever get back, I’m putting him in for the Medal of Honor. So until then, let’s honor his sacrifice like any good marines would—toast the man and drown our sorrows with some beer,” Vasquez offers—they’d actually found a large keg of smuggled beer along with all the other equipment and containers that have somehow passed through to this world. The exotice drink had quickly become a favorite of the grain-loving ponies as well once they tried it; Applejack and several other local pubs and growers are already trying to figure out how to brew it.

Jackson smiles wanly. “I know you’re right up here, L-T,” he taps his head, “But here says different.” He motions to his heart.

It’s an old trick, very cliche, but Vasquez uses it anyway. “And would he want you sitting around moping like this?” the Lieutenant asks pointedly. “What would he say if he were here right now?”

When Jackson doesn’t answer, Vasquez does it for him. “He’d say he made his choice and he doesn’t regret it. That it was worth it for saving us and all our new friends,” he tells the Sergeant with certainty. “So what does your heart say about that?”

“That you’re right,” the marine NCO admits, closing his eyes and going downcast before opening them, a little warmth in them now. “And he’d tell me to stop being such a fucking baby over him. That he died a hero’s death and he’s proud of it.”

“That’s the spirit! Now come on… let’s go grab a brewski. I’ll buy!” the lieutenant offers ironically—it’s not like they have to pay for it—helping his sergeant to his feet. But the smile drops as Foley rushes in, telling him there’s news he needs to hear. Promising to rejoin Jackson later for the drink and toast, Vasquez follows the Ranger Sergeant out the door.

Extra 4 - News 5 Reporting

“Good evening and welcome to Global Network News... I’m Jake Stanford Reporting.”

“With the world still in shock and coalition forces still tallying their losses following the detonation of a Russian nuclear device in the rebel capital of Basrah, there are also fragmentary reports of missing troops and equipment on both sides. Some witnesses have described seeing brightly glowing ‘portals’ in the immediate aftermath of the attack, through which they could see ‘a different world.’

“Coalition authorities have remained very tight-lipped on the subject, saying only that ‘investigation is ongoing’. More troubling, however, is the fact that entire ultranationalist rebel formations seem to have disappeared without a trace, in some cases taking their equipment and vehicles with them. An entire village was emptied of them, and an anonymous source reports that a combined British S.A.S./US Marine force detachment thought they had a rebel leader cornered in an old factory, only to enter the complex and find it deserted with no trace of the commander or his men.

“And now, in a GNN exclusive, our own Amy Johnson is live at the formerly rebel-controlled factory with one of the soldiers who took part in the operation. Amy?”

The camera shifts to the Reporter, who is dressed in a helmet and flak jacket. “Yes, Jake. Two days ago, Staff Sergeant Williams was part of a combined British/American assault force that stormed this warehouse, only to find it deserted despite having all exit routes covered. Upon searching the complex, they found ‘an unusual hole’ had appeared from out of nowhere,” she explained, a degree of skepticism in her voice. “Coalition authorities have cordoned off this hole, which was originally covered by a plywood barricade. I’m standing here with Staff Sergeant Williams to give us a clear meaning of what the hole is.”

Amy gives the mike to Williams, who steels himself, knowing the trouble he’s about to get into. “Yes well, I shouldn’t be telling you about any of this—we’re under strict orders not to. But the world needs to know that something very strange is going on,” he begins somewhat tentatively.

“Have you seen this hole, then?” she asks him.

He takes a deep breath before speaking. “Yes, ma’am, I can confirm the ‘hole’ is real. We don't actually know what it is or where it will take us if we went through, but we’re certain that the rebels used it to escape us. We sent a ‘Raptor’ recon drone inside and it took pictures of this very lush landscape, nothing like the Middle East. We tried to recover it but it was... taken…” he trails off uncertainly.

“I’m sorry. Taken?” Amy presses him.

He visibly hesitates, knowing that as soon as the broadcast is over, his career likely is as well. “The image wasn’t great, but we saw this strange colorful bird that looked almost like a~”

“That’s enough, Sergeant!” a gruff voice broke in and suddenly the camera lens was covered. “You are not authorized to talk about that! Ma’am, you’ll have to come with me,” he said, but the reporter broke away.

“So, what you’re saying is there might be something other than the rebels inside that hole?” she calls out to the collared Marine sergeant, who answers back over his shoulder.

“Listen to me! It’s not our world through there! It’s something entirely different! And I think there’s an alien race there as well!” Staff Sergeant Williams shouts out before being dragged out the door, the camera catching his voice but not his face before the feed was cut.

There is dead silence in the studio. “It appears we have lost contact with Amy. We will try to reestablish our link as soon as we can, but until then… you heard it yourself from Staff Sergeant Williams. Our first on-record confirmation of these ‘portals’. We have few answers, only more questions right now, so we invite you to decide in your homes: are these holes truly a gateway to a different world? Is some supernatural force helping the Rebels? Could both they and our own missing troops be there? Is this a prelude to a new rebel atrocity? Or perhaps a secret coalition effort?” he wonders aloud as a sheet of paper is passed to him by a cameraman.

He scans it quickly, a look of surprise on his face. “This just in... we now have additional confirmed reports of portals opening all over the world. Not just in the Middle East, but also in Peru, Berlin, China... and America! The president has just issued the following statement:

“‘We advise all citizens in and across America that if you happen to come across a hole near your homes, offices or the streets, report them at once and keep away from them. Until we know for sure what they are, it is not safe to go near them and they must be kept under military guard. Be assured we are investigating the nature of these strange portals and the safety of our citizens is paramount. Until we have answers, keep calm, and carry on.”

“So there you have it, folks. These portals are real, and authorities are investigating them all around the world as we speak…” more information as it comes available. We’ll take a brief break now, but return at the top of the hour. Until then, this is Jake Stanford, saying... NEWS NEVER SLEEPS!”

Chapter 13 - The Calm Before...

“SAY WHAT?!” Vasquez shouts at the uniformed ‘Wonderbolt’ as he hears the terrible news.

The blue-suited pegasi’s eyes narrow, her orange fur and fiery mane visible beneath her mask, an odd apparatus strapped to her back that he can only describe as a harness with a mounted pair of sheathed blades. “You’ll be calm and address me as Captain Spitfire, Lieutenant,” she reminds him, the snap in her voice immediately cowing him, reminding the Marine officer that she is a military leader on par with the naval rank. “And you heard me the first time. A large group of those human ‘Rebels’ have been spotted in an encampment by a Wonderbolt patrol flight over the southern Everfree,” she repeats.

“We know they’re hostile because they fired on our patrol and wounded my second in command, Commander Soarin, when he went in for a closer look. Despite his injuries, he completed his photo pass and found a large camp with hundreds of humans and a few vehicles, the largest of which was sort of a big metal carriage, much like what I’m told you used to fight off the dragons,” she said while looking serious, passing the marine lieutenant a picture taken from the air.

He heart sinks as he recognizes it instantly as a rebel T-90 tank, along with a dozen-plus smaller vehicles, including BTR troop transports and BMP infantry fighting vehicles in an improvised depot; there was even one tracked anti-air mount, though he couldn’t make out the type. “My apologies, Ma’am,” he makes a point of saluting the Wonderbolt Captain, who he now knows are not just a precision flying team but also what amounts to the Equestrian Air Force. “I can confirm that is a rebel camp. And they appear to be clearing a path to the south, out of the woods so their vehicles can move,” he taps a partially constructed road on the photo. “The good news is, they probably have the same issue we do regarding fuel, so it’s unlikely they could move their vehicles very far.”

“But they could siphon the others to give a few a full tank,” Foley points out grimly.

“Point taken,” his L-T grimaces. “How are they sustaining themselves?”

“They appear to be slaughtering Everfree animals for food,” Spitfire makes a face, her sideways look asking the marines if they, too, are meat-eaters. “They’ve refused all attempts at communication. And at the rate they’re building that road, they’ll reach the edge of the forest within hours, not far west of Ponyville”

“Russian Ultranationalists aren’t exactly known for being big on talk,” Foley agrees. “They’re not going to listen to anyone, least of all us. I don’t know what they think they’re going to do here, but if they break free of the forest and bring that tank to town…” he shivers at the carnage that could result.

“Lieutenant, you have already done much for us, but now I must ask even more. If it's not much trouble, please seek out those ‘people’ and prevent them from reaching the town! If they do, all of these ponies will be hurt, or worse,” the visibly nervous Mayor pipes up.

Vasquez didn't see this coming. Despite her unfamiliarity with military affairs, he knows the Mayor is right—all indications are that the rebels are massing for an attack. He also knows his somewhat meager force needs to act now, or the Rebels might reach Ponyville and strike without warning, as they did so often back on Earth. Still, for as trained and seasoned as his hodgepodge squad of allied infantry is, he knows they don’t have the strength to take on such a large rebel group by themselves and reluctantly turns to Spitfire. “I do not wish to involve you or any other ponies in our war, Captain, but…”

“This is our world, and we will fight for it,” the Captain says sternly. “You defended this town and proved yourself friends. Now it’s our turn. Tell us what you need.”

“First and foremost, we’ll need a plan, ma’am,” Vasquez says. “There’s too many of them for us to take alone. Forgive me for asking, Captain, but… can you Wonderbolts fight?” he has to know.

Visibly annoyed by the question, she flares her wings, releasing a pair of hidden latches on her harness. In response, two blades deploy, sliding forward and outward from their shoulder-mounted sheaths, a series of springs moving them forward until they lock in place, a thin, flexible blade that follows the contour of the leading edge her wings, turning them into a pair of lethal weapons. She then demonstrates their efficacy by taking off in a flash of orange and yellow and neatly cleaving the top of a nearby line of trees, sending the topmost branches crashing to the ground before returning to the Mayor’s office, resheathing her blades. “Does that answer your question, Lieutenant?”

Foley swallows, thinking she could decapitate a line of unwary soldiers if she wanted to. “Quite,” Vasquez says, a little wanly. “Please wait while I summon my team.”

“The Captain of the Guard will want to know this as well,” she says. “I will retrieve him for the meeting.”

* * * * *

Foley bids the Mayor farewell, all thoughts of the coming party forgotten as he steps outside to radio his improvised team for an emergency meeting. Within minutes, the Rangers, S.A.S. men and Marines were all present in the Mayor’s second-floor conference room, joined by Spitfire, two more uniformed Wonderbolts named Fleetfoot and Lightning Streak, and a rather handsome armored white unicorn stallion with a mixed blue mane called Shining Armor, flanked by several Guardspony officers.

Their private meeting is quickly invaded by Twilight Sparkle, Rainbow Dash and several other ponies, who demand they be allowed to take part. “This is our town, and we’re gonna fight for it!” Rainbow Dash insists, crossing her forelegs while remaining in a hover.

“If my brother is fighting, I’m fighting!” Twilight Sparkle proclaims, silencing any further protests from him.

“Quite so! I’m not letting them destroy my boutique!” Rarity adds. “Such ruffians as these Russians who would threaten our family and friends should be met with all force we can muster!”

“Or my farm!” Applejack puts her hoof down hard. “We all got hogs in this fight, partners!”

“Think I’m gonna stand by while they ruin my party?” Pinkie Pie finished, looking unusually intense. “No meanie-weenie rebel Ultra-whats-its are gonna take this town while we’re here!”

“Oh my. Um… I don’t want to fight, but, um… I don’t want to leave my friends to do it either,” Fluttershy offered tentatively. “I don’t want to see anyone hurt, but… I’ll be there if they are!”

“I appreciate the offers, all of you. But this isn’t a game,” Vasquez warns them. “This is war. The rebels don’t respect anything or anyone. As far as they’re concerned, you submit or you die. They will come to kill, and they won’t care if you’re ponies or humans, military or civilian.”

The ponies all look at each other, then give an answer that is about the last thing any of the human soldiers ever expected to hear from their pastel-painted mouths. “Then we’ll just have to kill them first!” Rainbow Dash speaks for all of them, then lands and presents herself to Spitfire. “Rainbow Dash reporting for duty, Captain!” she gives the Wonderbolts captain a facsimile of a salute.

The barest of smiles cracks Spitfire’s face. “This is a little earlier than we meant to induct you, but it looks like you’ll be joining the ‘Bolts a little early, Rainbow Dash,” she tells the younger mare, who beams with pride. “We can use your speed and skill. Go with Fleetfoot here once this meeting is done. She’ll get you outfitted.”

“Yes, ma’am!” she says eagerly, beaming.

The human soldiers are still dubious, but also know they can’t order any of them to stay away, remembering that Rainbow Dash and Twilight both participated in the earlier fight and likely saved their lives and the town by doing so; pony strength, flight and magic making them far more than the helpless civilians they often encountered back home. “Welcome aboard, everypony. Okay, here is the situation we face,” Vasquez begins, the mingled human/pony crowd gathering closer around him as he unrolls a map scroll obtained from the town hall records department. “According to the Wonderbolts recon flights, the Russians are there in roughly battalion strength—they counted at least 300 rebel soldiers in the area, with around sixteen vehicles, 100 Ammo crates and about 30 tents,” he recited. “The vehicles include a mixture of older BMPs and BTRs… and at least one T-90 tank,” he said, causing the humans present to groan and wince.

“Where’d they get a fucking T-90?” Dunn asks, hefting a rebel RPG—they’d found some Russian armaments in addition to the American and British ones. “The worst we’ve seen in Iran are T-72s!”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you go ask them, Dunn?” Griggs rolls his eyes, making the ranger fall silent.

“Continuing,” Vasquez says, glaring Dunn silent, “It’s unlikely they have enough fuel to use them all, but we can’t assume that, and all indications are that they’re going to move soon,” he pauses to make sure his words have sunk in. “Rebel tactics are to launch surprise attacks suddenly and in great numbers, attempting to overwhelm their opposition with shock tactics to make up for their general inferiority of soldiers and armor. Unfortunately for them, we know exactly where they’re coming out,” the Marine Lieutenant notes with a predatory smile.

Quickly, he begins drawing on the map with a quill pen, marvelling inwardly at the mixture of modern and medieval warfare represented in the room around him. “If the road they’re building is any indication, they’ll emerge right around here,” He taps and circles an area along a road that runs by Sweet Apple Acres and Fluttershy’s cottage. “We want to contain them at the point they come out, which will be a natural chokepoint since that the road of theirs only allows for one vehicle to pass at at time. Leave the vehicles to us—we have weapons that can defeat them,” he nods to the Rangers, who now wield Stinger and Javelin missiles. “Their infantry is another matter—they’ll probably try to secure the exit before the vehicles emerge. We’ll set antipersonnel mines for them—explosive devices tripped by walking or running over them. We got a crate of those Claymores, right?” he asks Captain Price.

“Indeed we do,” the S.A.S. captain gives a sly grin, deferring to Marine Lieutenant for the operation since the bulk of human forces are American and Vasquez seems to have become the unofficial human ambassador. “Properly placed, those will ruin your day.”

“Perfect. And for any rebel soldiers who survive that, we’ll set up kill zones in the orchards—interlocking fields of fire. My men will have the lead positions, and be backstopped by the guardsponies,” he nods to Shining Armor. “We know your soldiers can fight, sir, but these are our enemies and our responsibility. We prefer not to risk you if we can help it.”

“Understood,” Captain Shining Armor replies. “We’ve got your backs. We’ve already got a platoon patrolling the forest periphery. We’ll strengthen them to the two and hold the remaining platoon back here to protect the town.”

“Good,” Vasquez acknowledges, then turns to Captain Spitfire next. “We’ll need your eyes in the sky, ma’am. You’ll need to alert us to any flanking movements and give us warning when the various attack waves come in.”

The blue-suited mare shook her head. “You’re wasting us. We can do far more than just scout, Lieutenant!” She deploys her blades again for emphasis, the other two Wonderbolts following suit.

“You’re more than welcome to pick off stragglers and snipers, Captain, but... I’m afraid those wingblades of yours won’t do much against vehicle armor.”

“That’s why we have these,” she replies, holding up a hoof-sized orange gem which she plucks from her belt. “They come in several flavors—high explosive, fragmentation, and magma.”

“‘Magma’?” the humans all ask at once.

“Allow me to demonstrate…” she twists the top off one, then flies out the window and throws it as hard as she can against the side of the dead War Pig. It bursts open in a blinding flash of molten liquid… that burns right through the remains of the outer armor with a loud sizzling sound, leaving a gaping head-sized hole in the side.

“Holy…” Dunn whispers, thinking the ponies were suddenly far from cute and cuddly.

“How many of those do you have?” an equally awed Griggs asks.

“Enough,” she says somewhat coyly, motioning to her belt pouches. “The problem is delivery. We practice with them, but still have to swoop in close enough to hit them with it. And based on what we’ve seen of your weapons... that won’t be easy if we’re seen coming.”

“They’d have a hell of a lot of lead to dodge, L-T,” Jackson confirms. “Maybe it would better to kill the lead vehicle with that javelin as it emerges and plug the exit with it. That’ll stack up the rest and leave them easy pickings from the air. Our winged friends can then just hover a couple hundred overhead and rain hot death on them,” he suggests, causing the pegasi present to give fiendish grins.

“Agreed,” Captain Price speaks up. “You’ll have to hit something vital with them. Target their engines to disable them, or hit their storage magazines to set off their ammo,” he taps two places on the recon photo of the tank in turn as Spitfire nods her understanding. At that moment, there was a commotion outside, and two guardsponies entered, carrying a badly wounded...

“Oh no, Zecora!” Twilight exclaims at the sight of her zebra friend, her black and white stripes now running red from wounds of multiple AK rounds. “What happened?” she asks frantically, picking the exotic mare up in her aura and laying her down on a sofa, but the new arrival waves off her efforts and that of Fluttershy, who immediately tries to tend her.

“My wounds can wait. The enemy is near. My warning is urgent, my words must you hear!” she begged, biting back her pain.

“She said she had urgent info, sir,” one of the Guardsponies tells Shining Armor, giving him a quick salute. “She refused treatment until she’d spoken to you.”

“You know her?” Soap asks, not sure what to make of her rhyming—whether she did so normally or only now out of delirium.

“She’s our friend,” Twilight confirms, the others surrounding her and immediately tending her. “But what happened...?” she asks again.

“They held me captive. I escaped by chance… only by making my guards fall into a trance.”

“It was very brave of you, Ms. Zecora. You have information about the rebels? What can you tell us?” Price speaks up.

With effort, she focused her eyes on the bearded human before her. “They have in fact been here for quite some time. With the diamond dogs they are now partners in crime!”

“The diamond dogs?” Vasquez makes a face. “Why them?”

“The why does not matter! So please cease your chatter!” she said sharply, only to wince again. “I heard the dogs talk and know where they will strike. That base you saw is but the head of a pike!”

“It’s ok, Ma’am. We know where the road they’re building will come out. We’ve got the forest exits covered. They won’t surprise us,” tries to reassure her, nodding to , who pulled out a medikit, readying a morphine injection.

She shakes her head sharply, ignoring the pain it causes her. “The road is a ruse! A lie and a feint! Even as we speak they are now lying in wait!” she got out before lapsing into a coughing fit.

Abruptly, a new Wonderbolt flies in, this one a white mare with a yellow mane, her uniform hood off and goggles up. “Apologies, ma’am, but we thought you needed to know this immediately—the human camp in the Everfree Forest is gone!”

“Gone? What do you mean, gone, Sergeant Surprise?” Spitfire rounds on her subordinate. “Explain!”

The lower ranked Wonderbolt cringes slightly. “Apologies again, ma’am. All I can tell you is that this storm came up, and we couldn’t see anything. When it cleared ten minutes later, the camp was empty of all humans and vehicles and there was nothing left a big mound of dirt in the center!”

“Storm?” Dunn asks, all but sneering. “I thought you hotshot pegasi could control the weather!”

“Not over the Everfree,” Spitfire shakes her head, giving the mouthy human a glare. “Its wild magical energies make its weather uncontrollable, else we’d’ve already leveled that base with a storm of our own.”

Several confused glances were exchanged. “But if they’re not using the road? Then where?” Hanks asks, a feeling of dread.

Zecora recovers her voice and pointed a shaky hoof outside. “Until they strike, they will make not a sound. Because they are now coming… from underground!”

As if to emphasize her words, there is a sudden and growing rumble outside of town hall, the ground shaking beneath their feet. Abruptly, the ground in the plaza caves in, leaving a huge crater out of which suddenly springs… a score of rebel soldiers and rifle-armed Diamond Dogs following by a T-90 tank and two BMPs surging up and out of of the dust, guns blazing.

As all hell breaks loose and the tank swivels its turret to target Town Hall, all Lieutenant Vasquez can think is that Pinkie’s party preparations are now ruined.

Author's Note

As you may see, Several new things have been added and several rebuffs are going on at CoD. Sorry for the delay, and thanks to my very best Editor and Friend, who stood by me for... well, almost 4 years? More or less... Anyway, thanks to him, this story has been given new life! Rebirth! Never been thankful to anyone before, as my heart warms up again, ever since that Turnabout Trash-talking incident... This was one of my proudest creation since my first story, and it's now being restored... so Buckle up CoD fans! We're 'en route to a new battle field!

Chapter 14 - The Storm, Part 1

Author's Note

After several years of Hiatus, this darn story is ready to ignite back to life!!

Chapter 14 - The Storm, Part 1

“HIT THE DECK!” Vasquez shouts needlessly—and to his mind, pointlessly—as the Russian-made T-90 tank slews its massive 125mm main gun towards them and bullets start impacting the walls around them, fired from both the tank’s coax and the mixed human and diamond dog infantry around them.

He despairs but is not surprised by the deafening BOOM! that erupts, silently giving the Russian rebels and diamond dogs credit in what he assumes to be the final moments of his life for a superbly planned attack; one that had caught all the senior officers and human soldiers in one location where a single high-explosive tank round could take them all out.

He is very surprised, however, to discover himself still alive and unharmed afterwards as there’s a loud spattering sound that’s something like a cross between cracking glass and a wet sizzle, but the room itself remains intact. He and the rest of the humans open their eyes to behold… the Captain of the Royal Guard, Shining Armor, projecting from his horn what he can only describe as a translucent spherical shield around Town Hall. It somehow held against the massive round, but is visibly cracked in places, the unicorn who created it driven to his knees by the force of the strike, a glowing hairline fracture suddenly running half the length of his horn.

“Captain!” his lower ranked officers shout, earth ponies grabbing for spears and unicorns for their longbows while two enlisted unicorns attend him.

“Shiny!” Twilight goes to him and adds her own considerable power to the spell, solidifying the shield, allowing him to withdrawal his own aura and stagger back.

“I’m fine!” he claims through a pained gasp, though his wounded horn and trembling body give lie to his own statement. “Defend the town! Don’t let them take Ponyville!” he says, pointing outside with a shaking hoof before he passes out, the vehicles moving to encircle town hall as the infantry fans out. Not immediately realizing their first round was blocked, the tank is already turning on a new target, but the flanking BMP and BTRs open up instead with their cannon instead as their infantry moves forward. Twilight strains her magic against the onslaught, the guardspony unicorns and Rarity visibly feeding her power to maintain the spell.

There’s a second BOOM! as the tank targets a neighboring building, killing a cluster of ponies that had taken shelter there.

“Murdering bastards!” Griggs shouts as the initial shock wears off the human and ponies immediately withdraw further inside, the latter carrying Shining Armor with them. Twilight is last to go as she drops her shield and teleports after them, just making it before joining her brother in passing out from the strain of maintaining the spell in the face of the massive kinetic energy delivered by such projectiles. The room they left is instantly destroyed once she departs and her protective spell is gone, the victim of another tank round that would have killed everyone inside.

“Thanks for teaching me the spell, Shiny…” is the last thing Twilight says before she falls unconscious next to him.

“Okay! That’s IT!” Rainbow says in a rage, her wings flaring in anger. “Those ultra-whatever jerks are going down!”

“You said it, Rainbow!” Applejack paws on the ground angrily. “We’ll make ‘em sorry they ever came here!” she announced, hefting a discarded blade in her mouth.

“Lieutenant! Orders?” Soap calls out as they start overturning tables and forming barricades for a hasty defense inside the cavernous Town Hall Atrium, making Vasquez realize that both the human and ponies are looking to him to lead.

“As the majority of allied forces are American, command is yours, Leftenant,” Captain Price confirms with the old British pronunciation even though he’s the ranking officer. “Though if you want some advice, our first priority should be their armor before they bring the building down on us!” he points out as another tank round impacts the building, shaking it; there’s a growing rumble as the infantry carriers approach the doors.

“Agreed! But first, we need some breathing space…”

* * * * *

Caught by surprise, the Equestrian civilians and soldiers are initially easy prey for both the rebels and their diamond dog allies, who gun down nearly a score of the former immediately and set about trying to round up the latter, but start taking sporadic fire back from the two platoons of Guardsponies present, magical beams and longbow arrows from unicorns finding marks along with some thrown spears.

Russian rebels initially scoff at the sight but discover to their consternation that the projectiles have enough accuracy and power to make them a real threat—as Jackson watches, one goes down with an earth pony-thrown spear right through his chest armor while another takes an arrow to the head; a second arrow impacts against the side of a BTR and explodes like an RPG round with purple fire instead of orange, blowing one of its wheels off.

But the unicorn who fires it is quickly gunned down by the BTR-90’s top-mounted 30mm cannon and dozens more rebel soldiers and diamond dog spill out the tunnel; worse, there are more distant sounds of AK fire from the other side of town that indicate a second tunnel has been opened as well.

The British and Ponies trapped inside Town Hall are keenly aware of that fact, but can’t do anything about it until they save themselves and ward off the more immediate threat.

“Dammit, we’re pinned down! We can’t bring our missiles to bear from in here! And we can’t go topside to the balconies to target their vehicles or they’ll see us in an instant! There’s no cover up there!” Foley notes, their Javelin and Stinger missiles lying useless while popping up to fire off a few rounds before taking cover again from the rebels trying to storm the atrium, slowly pushing them back. The Diamond Dogs pop in with another small tunnel, but a single grenade takes cares of it. Given the lack of experience with modern warfare they’re taking more casualties from accurate rifle, spear, and crossbow arrows, but their sheer numbers are starting to tell.

“Can’t get to the balconies or tower either! Sure wish we could call in an airstrike!” Soap adds, firing a 40mm grenade from his weapon’s undermount at a BMP pushing its way inside only to see it detonate with a spatter against the sloped front armor, not wounding it. The metal beast retaliates with a burst from its cannon that shatters part of the improvised barricade, wounding several guardsponies with fragments

“You can!” Spitfire says as Corporal Dunn scores his own hit with a captured RPG, causing the vehicle to explode, plugging the entrance—he’s mouthy but he’s good in fight, Foley has to admit. She then grabs a red crystal from her belt and speaks into it, relaying instructions.

Within a minute a formation of five blue-suited pegasi appear in the distance and swoop down on the vehicle formation menacing town hall like dive bombers despite the danger, the lead Wonderbolt pair taking out five mixed Russian and Diamond Dog soldiers with their wingblades before shooting back up, drawing the attention and fire of the infantry and vehicles as they do so. This allows the trailing ‘Bolts to draw beads on the vehicles, magma and high-explosive crystals impacting their turrets and magazines, causing several to explode after a few seconds and the others to gun their engines and take evasive action, cannons slewing to target the elusive pegasi but far too slow to do so effectively. Infantry is another matter, however, as a hail of rifle fire brings two Wonderbolts down.

“They’ll pay for that!” Spitfire snarls at the loss of her comrades, then flares her wings for takeoff, intending to take advantage of the lull in fire on the building. “We’ll give you what cover we can! But we number just a dozen and can’t win this fight by ourselves! If you need to call out targets, speak into this crystal, and we’ll hear it!” she tosses him her red command crystal.

“Captain! Let me come!” Rainbow Dash begs, frustrated at being limited to pulling wounded ponies out of the way and helping her friends take care of Twilight and Shining Armor. “I can help!”

“Not without armor and blades, recruit!” she shakes her head sharply, but puts a comforting hoof on the other mare’s chest. “I know you can, but you’d be killed instantly if you go out there without them! But if we survive this, you’re a Wonderbolt for sure, Rainbow Dash!” she tells her, then streaks out the window with Surprise and Fleetfoot to rally and direct her remaining forces.

Despite her efforts, fresh armor support appears, a BTR pushing its way inside using the gutted BMP Dunn destroyed as a shield.

“Dammit, we need more firepower!” Griggs said as they’re forced back by sheer numbers into the rear third of the atrium, more enemy soldiers flooding in despite a steady hail of arrows, magical beams and bullets, the BTR trying to bringing its own top-mounted cannon to bear only to find it blocked by the slightly taller BMP. No grenades fly, however; the rebels haven’t tried throwing any since they discovered that Guardspony unicorns could pluck them in midflight with their magic and toss them right back. “Hey L-T! Didn’t you say there was Humvee with a mounted fifty at AJ’s farm?”

“And a flyable Sea Knight chopper with miniguns in the field east of town, but there’s no way we can get to them!” he confirms, catching a peeking Diamond Dog with a headshot as a unicorn to his right does the same with a longbow arrow to a rebel human.

“Ya mean that fancy fun carriage ya took me for a ride in? Maybe we can!” Applejack pipes up, crawling up beside the humans. “Ah reckon Ah can make it back there with one of y’all on my back, and then we can come here with it!”

The humans exchange looks. “You can carry one of us and still run fast enough to dodge all those bullets?” Griggs asks dubiously, but AJ nods quickly.

“Ah’m an Earth Pony! We got strength and gallop speed to spare!” As if to illustrate her point, there’s a sudden series of Russian shouts and a loud creaking sound followed by the unlikely sight of one of the BTR’s being lifted up from the side and shoved over on its back, its wheels spinning helplessly, rendering it useless.

A single large red-furred pony then leaps over top of it and resolved into the form of Big Macintosh, dodging rifle fire as he leaps to and fro, taking pains to trample a few rebel soldiers underhoof as he goes. He doesn’t emerge entirely unscathed as two bullets find him, causing him to grunt in pain as he dives for cover with the humans and ponies defending Town Hall. “Big Mac! You okay?” she immediately asks, pulling him to safety. “Dangnabit, what were you thinking, you crazy colt? You either got some serious horse apples or screws loose trying that, you brave, stupid stallion!” she slaps him lightly with her stetson then hugs him tightly as a horrified Fluttershy attends him.

To her surprise, Big Macintosh smiles in great satisfaction despite his pain. “Eeyup…”

With that, Applejack turns back to the humans. “Listen to me! Ah can’t just stand by and do nothing! This is our town, and our friends and family! We gotta fight for ‘em!”

“And how!” Rainbow Dash calls out in frustration from behind as she helps Fluttershy attend Big Macintosh

“Think I’m with her, Lietuenant. We could really use some mobile support of our own!” Soap notes as he reloads a magazine in his GS-36. “If we could get it, we might be able to take the fight to them!”

“There’s a platoon of Guardsponies stationed at the Sweet Apple Acres orchards too!” a lower ranked earth pony officer points out as he fires a forearm-mounted crossbow tipped with a crystal that brings down part of the second floor parapet on top of some soldiers, leaving Jackson suddenly wondering why they haven’t just brought Town Hall down around them. “We could use the reinforcements, sir!”

“I know! But you can’t get out of here without cover, and lots of it!” Vasquez replies, then blinks. “Wait a second… maybe we can get you some!” he announces as he goes for the red gem that Spitfire gave him. “Captain? This is Lieutenant Vasquez! We have a plan, and we need your help…”

* * * * *

Within a minute a formation of eight Wonderbolts streaks in again, Spitfire in the lead. She weaves in and out with her wingblades, picking off individual soldiers and even slicing right through the trunk of a tree where a rebel sniper was based, toppling the tree with him in it.

“She is so cool…” Rainbow goes starry-eyed for a moment, wishing again she could join her as Griggs somewhat awkwardly climbs on Applejack’s back.

Tracer rounds chase but do not hit the Wonderbolts Captain as the remaining enemy infantry dives for cover, trying to dodge the bombing runs of her teammates as thrown crystals impact the ground around them. Some explode, or fragment, most just discharge massive amounts of pink smoke around the rear entrance, shrouding it.

On cue, the Marines pull pins on their own smoke grenades as well, and Rainbow Dash assists by generating a wind with her wings that drives it into the faces of their enemies, causing them to cough and sputter and their fire to slacken. “That’s your cue, AJ and Griggs! GO!” Vasquez orders, and the earth pony wastes no time in doing just that, charging right through the smoke and breakneck speeds as Griggs holds on to her for dear life. He can’t believe how strong and swift she is being no bigger than him, able to hold his weight like it’s nothing. They burst back the first line of rebel soldiers at the entrance to some startled shouts and some sporadic fire that misses them, and within ten seconds are clear, galloping out of town square.

* * * * *

When they reach halfway to the farm but a minute later, they reach the lines of the guardsponies platoon stationed there, tasked by their Captain with securing the orchards and covering the road exit. Both Griggs and Applejack note with satisfaction they’re fully engaged and thus far succeeding in keeping the rebel forces from taking the farm despite heavy casualties, still fighting with spear, arrow and magic despite having lost nearly half their number. Better yet, they’re well-organized and learning quickly how to fight in a modern warfare environment—the Marine Sergeant counts at least thirty dead enemy soldiers, human and diamond dog alike. There are even a pair of burned out BMPs in front of them, one having succumbed to multiple explosive arrow hits from unicorns and the other having been magically picked up and shoved on its side, the turret then torn off by earth pony soldiers and the human rebels inside yanked out and killed by spear and hoof.

They quickly explain the situation to the Sergeant in charge. “Your Captain is wounded and our forces are pinned down at Town Hall! We need you back in town! We’ll cut a path for you with our vehicle, then you need to counterattack and relieve them!

“You can count on us, sir!” he salutes the human—Griggs resists the temptation to tell him not to do so as he’s not an officer and he works for a living—then immediately starts barking orders as AJ continues on, heading for the barn they stowed the Humvee at. It had been placed there hoping it could be turned into a vehicle depot if they found more, but now he’s just glad they kept it somewhere out of harm’s way until needed.

Arriving at the barn, he hops off her and quickly shows her how to load the top-mounted gun, slamming home a bulk 100-round box of 50-cal ammunition from the back seat into the side mount, opening the top and threading the ammo belt it contains into the feed. He then grasps the gun handles to show her how it moves and fires; he demonstrates how the mount has limited traverse but can be rotated within its turret with a hand crank at hip height. “But it was designed for our hands! I don’t know how you’re gonna work it all with just your hooves!”

“Now don’t you worry about that none, partner!” she says as she clambers into the gunner’s seat and instinctively grasps the gun handles with her hoof. With that, she slips a lasso out of her hat—he had no idea she kept one in there!—and threads it through the handles so she can use it to put pressure on the thumb trigger in place of human fingers.

“We’re set! Now as y’all say, let’s get some!” She cranks the turret quickly with her hind hoof until it faces forward.

“Yes ma’am!” Griggs can’t help but smile at her enthusiasm as he starts the engine and guns, charging across the field towards the first group of enemy soldiers, this one a group of a dozen diamond dogs who have just emerged from a fresh hole in the ground, intending to surprise the Guardsponies from the rear. They appear to be immensely enjoying their new AKs even if they aren’t well-versed in proper infantry tactics; there’s a series of near-deafening cracks as the mounted .50 fires, and to his surprise, the enemy soldiers fall quickly to his pony gunner’s accurate fire, the heavy rounds all but blowing their bodies apart.

“Yee-HAW!” she shouts as the last one falls dead, waving her stetson around as she witnesses her accomplishment. “Never did like Diamond Dogs! They once coltnapped Rarity! To say nothin’ of twice robbin’ Granny Smith of her bits and her apples!”

“Can’t say I much like ‘em either!” Griggs grins. Whoa… she’s a natural at this! he realizes as he pulls up to and drives parallel to the improvised Guardspony line, letting Applejack laying down a barrage of cover fire that takes out a half-dozen more infantry. The guardponies, initially surprised by the ruckus to the rear, quickly find and plug two more holes with explosive crystals dropped down them as the human rebels scatter at the sight of the Humvee, knowing that without armored support of their own, they’re vulnerable to its mobility and top-mounted machine gun. The Diamond Dogs are slower to realize the danger and several more go down beneath its withering fire, to the cheers of remaining guardsponies, who immediately organize for an attack of their own. “Keep alert, AJ! We’re heading for town! Plenty more bad guys ahead, so stay sharp and be ready for a real bumpy ride!”

“Copy that, partner! I got your back! Now let’s take the rest of these ‘motherfuckers’ down!” she shocks him one last time by repeating an acquired human curse.

“Ooh-RAH!” Griggs shouts, deciding then he well and truly likes the country mare as he then charges down the road, leading the Armored Guardsponies in a counterattack towards Town Hall.

Chapter 15 - The Storm, Part 2

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter 16 - Story End. The Storm, Part 3.

The Storm, Part 3. Story End

After successfully defending Town Hall, the ponies and their human allies sense the battle starting to turn.

The Americans and British know from experience that the rebels need to win fights quickly, as a rule, before reinforcements or superior allied air power, training and tactics come into play, and it is quickly becoming apparent to the human soldiers that the same rules held as true in Equestria as they did on Earth. Their failure to take Town Hall has bought time for the reinforcing guardspony platoon that has been stationed at Sweet Apple Acres to arrive, backed by some light armor of their own in the form of a Humvee with a mounted .50… manned astonishingly by Applejack, who is standing in the turret using her hooves, teeth and lasso to work the unfamiliar weapon with deadly effect, possessing surprisingly good aim.

But she and the Guardsponies aren’t the only ones fighting back, nor are Applejack’s friends. The shock of the attack wearing off, the townponies themselves are now actively resisting as well, from the unicorns and earth ponies below to the weather patrol Dash has somehow freed now turning the very skies against the invaders above. They may lack the armor and wingblades of the Wonderbolts, but Rainbow and her fellow pegasi quickly prove they don’t need them to be deadly.

Under her direction, they hover high overhead out of effective rifle range and rain down lightning from their town’s storm cloud supply or grenades they borrow from their human allies; other times, they take a chance by swooping down to grab an enemy soldier and then fly him up to great height before dropping him to his death. The rebels and their diamond dog allies turn their fire upwards and do indeed kill a few, but their numbers are being slowly but surely whittled down and worse for them, the ponies are starting to grow in anger and confidence that they can defeat their invaders.

But pegasi aren’t the only ponies the increasingly hard-pressed rebels have to worry about. Though nearly out of arrows for their longbows, unicorn guardsponies can wield human weapons once shown how. Rarity is the biggest example of that, Foley thinks as they begin to push outward from Town Hall, noting how she shows great affinity for her purloined AKs and combat knives, her ability to magically multitask and wield all her self-stylized weapons at once making her as elegant and deadly as any anime assassin.

Unlike Rarity, most unicorns can only do one thing at a time with their magic, but even their simple levitation spells can be used to good effect, enabling them to strangle from a distance like certain movie figures or throw knives and grenades to good effect. The earth ponies prove formidable as well, their great strength and durability far dwarfing both the enemy Ultranationalists and Diamond Dogs. They may lack wings or horns, Griggs notes as he guns the humvee engine and Applejack guns down another group of Diamond Dogs with her accurate fire, but they’re tough as nails and have the strength to spare, as Big Macintosh and the guardsponies have already demonstrated by upending supporting infantry carriers.

Then abruptly, the heavy hammer blows of the .50 above his head stop. “Dangnabbit! Think I’m outta bullets!” she tells him, pointing down on all the expended shell casings and empty ammo boxes on the backseats.

Griggs grimaces at that, then starts when he looks back at her. “Whoa, AJ! You’re hit!” he says in alarm, pointing at her, but she just looks down at the bleeding hole in her left side and shrugs.

“Huh,” she says, examining it like she hasn’t noticed it before, grimacing as she rubs the entry word and her hoof comes away bloody for it. “It stings something fierce, but reckon I’ve had worse. And hay, if I can’t take a little nick or two, I ain’t got no business calling mahself an Apple!”

All Griggs can think at that moment is that she’s got ‘apples’ the equal of any marine—they’ve learned that pony term, at least—as he pulls the humvee into a sheltered area so he can clean the wound and patch it with a field dressing. “You’ve done great, AJ, but wounded and without a working gun, you should probably sit the rest of this out. Let’s get you to Fluttershy in Town Hall; she’ll take care of you!” He hops back in the driver’s seat and guns the engine to take her there, but she simply shakes her head hard.

“The hay I will! Ya’ll think I’m letting a little nick or two keep me outta this fight? We got ’em on the run now, and Ah aim to finish this!” she pulls her lasso out of her stetson hat, not having noticed there’s a bullet hole in it just above her head.

Griggs decides not to mention it, knowing by now how stubborn she and the rest of her family can be. “AJ, if you get yourself killed out here, then I’m gonna be the one who has to explain it to Apple Bloom and the rest of your family! And I really don’t wanna do that!”

That seems to give her some pause, but only momentary. “Sorry, Part’ner. I don’t wanna die, but I’d be less a pony and an Apple if I didn’t fight to save my town! I may get killed, but it’s gonna be helping my friends and doing my family proud! Now get me another ‘gun’ or whatever and let’s get back in the fight!”

“Yes, ma’am! So hop back in and let’s go find one!” he says, making a run for Town hall and the ammo caches he knows they have there, hoping he can find something else for her to use.

* * * * *

“RPG!” Dunn shouts and shoots another purloined rebel rocket into a house turned into makeshift bunker, gutting it from the inside and killing the Diamond Dogs who are firing from it, replenishing his ammo from dead rebels as they advance.

“That’s another squad down! Damned if I’m starting to think we might just win this, L-T!” Jackson shouts as he picks off another diamond dog poking his head up from a hole with his rifle, but his triumphant smile is quickly wiped from his face by an ominously low-pitched whup-whup-whup sound that makes his guts clench; a sound that only belongs to…

“Hinds!” the shout goes up as every Marine, Army Ranger and SAS soldier instantly recognize the ominous sound of approaching Soviet-era Mi-24 assault helicopters, heavily armed and laden with additional troops, slow-moving aerial tanks almost impervious to ground fire but vulnerable to air power and stinger missiles—neither of which they have.

“You just had to say it, didn’t you?” Dunn all but sneers as the three choppers scatter the pegasi and then start laying cover fire down for their ground forces, a rocket strike taking out the unmanned Humvee and then gutting another house while the heavy rounds from the chain gun reduces several more guardsponies to red mist.

“Great. Now the fuck are we going to take them out?”

“Maybe we don’t have to…” Vasquez replies as he goes for the communication crystal that Spitfire gave him. “Captain! Those vehicles can be brought down by taking out their spinning rotors—they’re what let them stay airborne! They’re heavily armed, so approach carefully! If you can hit them from above with those magma bombs of yours, that should do it!”

“Sounds like a good plan. Unfortunately, half my force is down and we’re all out!” she tells them in disgust; they can just make out her form several hundred feet overhead… and see her shortly joined by a second blue pegasus not in a Wonderbolts uniform. “Say that again? You want to do what, Rainbow Dash…?” whatever else said was lost as she turned her head away from the crystal, but mere seconds later she came back on, her voice far more urgent. “Lieutenant! Take cover NOW!” she says urgently, suddenly fleeing the scene along with the rest of the pegasi… except for the second pegasus who goes in a different direction entirely—straight up.

“Huh? For what?” Jackson asks.

“Hey! Isn’t that Rainbow?” Griggs points up at the climbing streak above, passing nearly out of eyesight before she suddenly loops and goes into a hard dive, aiming right at the three Hinds in formation.

“Yeah. What the hell is she…?” Soap’s sentence goes unfinished as there’s a sudden explosion of prismatic light in their midst that rocks the three massive helicopters hard, causing one to spiral out of control, its crew crippled and avionics ruined by the massive shock wave that shatters nearby windows and nearly deafens those on the ground.

“A sonic rainboom! She did it again! she did it again!” a strangely excited Fluttershy yells out from behind them while the humans can only rub their still-ringing ears.

In Rainbow’s wake, the surviving Wonderbolts swarm the choppers; the humans on the ground can just make out the form of Spitfire as she takes advantage of one chopper’s crew stunned state to get close enough to slash open a damaged side door with her wingblade and charge in. They can’t see what happens inside, but the results are clear enough as the chopper suddenly falters and nose dives like its pilot has slumped forward over the stick. Its crew slain, Spitfire dives out the open side door trailing blood as two of her comrades catch her and immediately bring her to Town Hall with a pair of pistol wounds, coughing blood as the chopper crashes hard, exploding on impact with the plaza a hundred yards away.

“Oh my!” Fluttershy exclaims as they bring the Wonderbolts Captain to her and immediately starts tending her wounds.

“Gutsy move, Captain. Those rotors could have cut you in two!” Private Allen tells her as he jabs the mare with a morphine syringe, the private now on medic duty, but she just laughs as she coughs.

“That’s what I did to the pilot. Sergeant Surprise, take command and take out that third monstrosity!” she orders the white pegasus mare just before the painkiller takes hold and she passes out.

As it turns out, there’s no need. The other Ponyville pegasi belonging to the weather patrol are already attacking the third, not with wingblades or even lightning but with the simple power of the wind. Under Rainbow’s direction, they start flying in a spiral pattern and within seconds they’ve generated an airborne twister which they turn loose on the faltering Hind. Though able to resist heavy bullets and RPGs, it cannot stay airborne battered by such force as the violence of the vortex tosses it on its back and towards the ground, where it plows into a house and crashes through to the bottom floors, ruined.

“Wow. Who needs Stingers when you have pegasi?” Foley muses as with the rebel air support gone, they resume their advance, pushing the Ultranationalists into a smaller and smaller area, clearing them block by block from the town.

It isn’t long, however, before they reach the Ponyville Flower shop only to find themselves in a new predicament as the increasingly desperate rebels resort to one of their oldest tactics. “We have hostages!” A frightened Russian voice warns in accented English, holding a gun pointed at a shaking earth pony head from the doorway. The Americans and British know her; she’s one of the three earth ponies who runs the shop, a cream-colored mare with a mixed burgundy mane and Rose cutie mark on her flank. “Come closer, and she dies!”

“Dammit… now what, L-T?” Jackson asks, but his commander is already considering the question.

“Pinkie, can you get in there to rescue them like you did Sweetie Belle?” he turns to currently flat-haired mare, trying not to flinch from the dangerous gleam in her eyes.

“Yeah…” she says with a strangely eager smile, twirling a knife around her hoof. “Just give me a…”

“Do you not think we’re serious, Americans?” A second, more authoritative voice shouts, then a second pony with a gun to her head emerges, this one a deeper pink with curly green hair. “As you can see, we have other hostages! Kill that one!” he points at Roseluck, whose eyes go wide.

“NO!” comes a loud but unfamiliar female shriek from inside, and suddenly there is a series of both canine and human screams as blood spatters appear at the windows. A few shots rang out as well, but are quickly silenced. Uncertain what is happening, they rush the house, but by the time they reach it, they find a grisly scene of carved-up rebels… and in the midst of it is a whirling dervish of blades, at the center of which stood a reared-up pink-furred earth pony with blond hair and a lily cutie mark, ignoring her lack of fingers to spin kitchen cutlery effortlessly around her hooves, wielding and throwing them unerringly, impaling hearts and slashing throats with equal efficiency as she finishes off the remainder of her captors single-hoofedly.

She kills the entire squad within seconds with a will and efficiency that would even do Pinkie proud, then seemingly realizes what she’s done with a look of horror, dropping her blades and putting her hooves to her head with a shriek as she beholds the soldiers she’s slain… just before she faints dead away along with her two rescued companions.

“Holy fuck…” is all Vasquez can immediately say.

“Dear God in heaven…” Even Price is impressed.

“You said it, Captain! She wouldn’t even speak to us! In fact, she fainted nearly every time she saw us before this! Never thought Lily Valley of all ponies had it in her!” Jackson shakes his head.

“Yep-yep! Funny how it’s always the shy, quiet ones, don’t ya think?” Pinkie muses without a hint of irony, her hair now back in its floofy state before it falls flat again and the dangerous gleam in her eyes returns. “So now that they’re safe, what say we take the rest of these motherbuckers out?” She deftly picks up a gun and an ammo bandolier from the slain soldiers. “I’m having way too much fun to stop now!”

Jackson and Vasquez can only hope that she will stop once the battle is over, knowing that even if they survive this they’ll never look at her the same way again.

* * * * *

For all their individual victories, the greater battle continues unabated and still undecided.

The Hinds are down, but infuriatingly, the T-90 is still in operation, bearing scorch marks and occasional armor chink but still fighting and killing. Their ranks reduced, rebel soldiers and Diamond Dogs draw closer to it for protection along with the few remaining infantry carriers, clearly intending to escape through fresh escape tunnels the diamond dogs are frantically digging. And then, as if to drive the point home, there’s a fresh BOOM! as the tank destroys a house where surviving Guardsponies from the initial force have holed up, sniping at the Russians with longbow arrows and crossbow bolts.

Griggs wore viciously at that. “Dammit L-T, if we don’t take out that tank, it could win the fight by itself!”

“I know, but we’re out of antitank rounds, and there’s too much lead flying out here to try and set up the javelin!”

“Maybe we can…” he stops as movement to his left catches his eye. He turns and beholds… “Twilight?”

“Twilight? You’re okay!” Rarity exclaims, but Twilight doesn’t immediately acknowledge her, staring in shock at the wreckage of her town and carnage all around her.

“What… happened…” her lip quivers, and then she remembers… “Spike. Where’s Spike?” She looks around frantically.

They all look at each other. “We… don’t know, Twilight. We haven’t been able to take back the library yet…”

Twilight doesn’t immediately acknowledge his words, her lip quivering. Then she sets her sights on the tank.

“My town… my friends… my brother… you hurt them…” she says as she walks out almost drunkenly to face the T-90, which turns to face her, ignoring the orders to surrender from the surrounding rebel soldiers and pleas to get back from the friendly ones.

“What is she…?” his voice trails off as he sees Twilight’s mane starting to smoke and both Rarity and Pinkie Pie get alarmed and yank their human friends down hard with hoof nad magic.

“Everypony, get away from Twilight NOW!” Rainbow likewise shouts from above as her friend’s eyes glow red a split second before her fur somehow and very suddenly ignites.

“Holy!” As the horrified humans watch, her body explodes into fire, her striped blue mane turning to sheer flame and her purple coat glowing white hot, the radiant heat of her alone enough to ignite the nearest vegetation make them all wince and pull back.

“What the fuck just happened to her?” Soap asks, unable to understand why he’s still so continuously surprised.

“She’s an elemental!” a flat-haired Pinkie explains, staring at her friend almost gleefully. “If she gets really angry or upset, that can happen! And you don’t want to be near her when it does!” She’s suddenly eating popcorn out of a bag, kicking back to watch the show.

Their human friends fear it’s going to be a horror show as the the tank machine guns open on her, but the rounds are all deflected by her magic shield, or vaporize on contact with her… but the shield is visibly weakening and her flame sputtering from the power she’s diverting from it; they don’t know if she’s spent from earlier efforts or just unable to maintain so many drains on her magic, but either way, given a few more seconds the tank might batter down her defenses.

“Twilie…” a weak new voice says from beside them, and they turn to behold Shining Armor, his legs wobbly and horn badly singed from protecting them during the initial tank attack. Despite that, he projects a small shield around his sister, protecting her and allowing to spare all her power for her attack.

“Captain!” The surviving Guardsponies exclaim, going to him and supporting him from either side. “You okay?”

“No, but… that’s my sis…” the rest goes unsaid as he focuses his efforts on Twilight, his unicorn comrades feeding him magical energy from their own horn so he can keep the shield up around her, deflecting bullets and shrapnel alike as Twilight fully powers up her flame.

“You… hurt… my friends…” she tells the massive war machine again as her fire intensifies to the point the very air around is shimmering and the grass around her ignites. “Now… DIE!” She screams as a horrific inferno, hotter than any dragon flame, envelops the tank, turning it into a blast furnace and scorching the surround. Unable to penetrate her brother’s shield, the crew tries to drive the tank right over her but she simply teleports behind it and keeps it up until the big beast succumbs. The engine chokes, the fuel ignites, and finally, there’s a massive explosion as the tank’s remaining rounds cook off and by the time she withdraws her assault there’s nothing left of the Rebel T-90 but a pile of glowing slag; whatever remains of the crew inside now carbonized and mixed with molten metal.

“Jesus Fucking Christ…” an agape Dunn watches. “So tell me again why the rebels thought the ponies were easy targets?”

“So tell me again why you thought the ponies were pussies, Dunn?” Jackson asks as Shining Armor collapses again from the effort and the pain of an injured horn, and for once, the mouthy corporal has no reply.

The rebels still aren’t out of tricks, however, as a brave or foolish Russian steps forth to challenge Twilight, several of friends with rifles leveled as Twilight hurriedly puts back up her own shield. “Impressive, little pony. But we have your pet. Withdraw your magic and give up now!” To their shock, he’s holding a trembling Spike up with one hand and a gun to his head with the other.

“Twilight… I’m sorry…” Spike tells her. “I hid but they found me. Don’t worry about me…”

“I’m warning you…” the rebel cocks the hammer for emphasis. “I’ll kill him!”

“Shit…” Griggs snarls, wishing they have a marksman rifle as Twilight simply turns her glowing red eyes on Spike’s captor, considering his threat; it’s certain to all watching that should she withdraw her magic, they’ll kill her instantly. “Anyone got a headshot on him…?”

“No need, partner…” Applejack puts a restraining hoof on his arm, a strangely smug smile on her face. “Ah reckon this’ll be over lickety-split…”

“You said it!” Pinkie simply shrugs, tossing another piece of popcorn into her mouth. “That move was so dumb it’ll be fun!”

“Indeed, darling. This should take all of about ten seconds.” Rarity says as she watches with a sneer, seemingly as unconcerned as her other friends for Spike’s fate.

“Ten? I give it two!” Pinkie grins malevolently, then leans forward to watch in great anticipation.

It’s in fact, less than one second later that Twilight simply plucks the gun from his hand and then turns on the blast furnace again; they can just hear some agonized shrieks before the rebel and his friends are reduce to a pile of ash with Spike still in their midst, almost instantly but brutally incinerated by Twilight’s fire.

“Jesus! She’s bloody insane! She killed Spike!” Soap exclaims.

“No, she didn’t…” Rarity assured them, a very satisfied smile on her face “Spikey-wikey is a dragon, even if just a baby one. And that means…” her answer was given as Spike simply runs free of his now-dead captors, right through Twilight’s hellfire, not harmed at all. Sobbing, he rushes up to a still-fiery Twilight and hugs her hard despite her internal furnace, like a child reunited with his mother.

“And that means, he’s fireproof…” Price realizes, suddenly eternally grateful the rebels didn’t figure that out.

“Oh yeah! He could swim through a river of lava and not be harmed!” Pinkie offers helpfully, her hair floofy again; her human friends aren’t sure if her ability to shift from happy-go-lucky to cold-blooded assassin is a good thing or not.

Regardless, Spike’s safety seems to calm Twilight down as her coat cools off. She then teleports away with him, only to reappear without him a few seconds later, her eyes hard as she finds the marines and SAS men. “I left him with Fluttershy,” he tells them before they ask. “Just… don’t ask me to do that again. Most of my magic’s gone after that, but I can still help!” she assures them, her horn aglow.

“You sure you’re okay, Twilie?” Shining Armor asks her weakly, being attended to by his unicorn guardsponies.

Twilight’s expression softens. “I’ll be fine. You saved us twice now, so let me finish the fight for you,” she goes up to him and nuzzles him, before she turns back to her pony and human friends, anger and determination in her eyes. “So let’s do this! You hear me? For what they’ve done to my town and my friends, I want them all dead!” she puts her hoof down hard, her eyes glowing red again for just a bare moment in emphasis.

The Americans and British look at each other, than to her. “That’ll be our pleasure, Twilight!”

* * * * *

The tank destroyed, the remainder of the battle goes quickly and quite poorly for the rebels.

Twilight teleports to and fro, magical beams lancing from her horn, spearing enemy soldiers, both human and diamond dog alike, only to disappear in a flash again before gunfire can find her. Though lacking a horn, Pinkie continually pulls off identical feats, simply appearing and then disappearing from behind bushes, doors, and windows to reach out and slice a throat or break a neck. Though unable to teleport and only able to advance at a trot, Rarity duel-wields her captured AKs—which she’d given an ornately designed purple and blue exterior to match her coat just as she’d done with the combat knives—gunning or cutting down all in her sight without so much as a hair going out of place on her mane or tail.

Though lacking a weapon, Applejack charges right into the melee herself without any weapons except her bare hooves and her lasso, both of which prove lethal enough, the former crushing skulls and breaking limbs, bucking down trees onto soldiers, the latter snatching guns or snaring necks. Other times, she just kicks rocks into the air and bucks them with enough power and precision that they may as well have been bullets, impacting on their targets with the force of the Humvee-mounted .50 she’d previously fired.

She takes a second round to a foreleg, then a third to her shoulder, but she still refuses to go down. “And she said Big Mac was stubborn and stupid?” Griggs asks in wonder as they clear another street, pushing the rebels into a smaller and smaller corner. “Strong as an ox, tough as nails and good in a fight? So help me, I’m really starting to like that mare…”

“So why don’t you marry her, Griggs?” snarks Dunn as he feeds a steady stream of grenades to unicorns and pegasi who come for them, tossing them into the air for magical auras and hooves to pluck and deliver to the enemy.

“You know what? Maybe I will!” the Marine Recon Sergeant says as he kills another rebel in a tree, their remaining soldiers now withdrawing into a hastily dug hole. “Guess I should propose to her first…”

“Might want to save setting the date until we’ve cleaned these fuckers out!” Vasquez reminds them all in deadpan, but within five minutes the job is done as the remaining rebels dive into a hole and then the Diamond Dogs seal it behind them, leaving a few unlucky comrades behind who are quickly killed or rounded up.

“And STAY out!” Applejack puts the punctuation mark on the failed attack she puts both hind hooves into the chest of a final Diamond Dog, blasting him through a wall and killing him in the process.

A great cheer goes up at the won battle, from the earth ponies and unicorns below to the pegasi above, one the humans can’t help but join in despite the casualties they all suffered.

“Wow, Twilight! That was awesome!” Rainbow comes down, bearing a couple bullet holes in her feathers but otherwise unharmed. She hugs all her friends, then turns to Fluttershy. “How’s Spitfire…?”

“She’s fine,” her friend assures her. “Her wounds aren’t life-threatening.”

“Well done, My Little Ponies…” a new female voice sounds from above them, both soft and commanding all at once, causing gasps and eyes to go wide. “You and your allies have fought well.”

“Princess Celestia! Princess Luna!”the ponies all shout and hurriedly bow before the two new arrivals, both massive and much larger than average ponies, ones that bear both wings and horns.

“Are those… alicorns?” Soap recognizes in some worry.

“Just after the nick of time…” Dunn grouses, but the others glare him silent.

The larger and lighter-furred one with the sun cutie mark spares the humans a single appraising glance, but it’s the darker-furred one with the moon cutie mark that speaks up. “Indeed. We are sorry we are late, but there was a dragon attack on Canterlot that had to be… dealt with.” The darker one smiled thinly, sparing the British and Americans an equally dark glance. “We came as soon as we could.”

“But it’s too late, Princess! We’ve already driven them off, and those who survive are escaping!” Rarity points at the sealed tunnel.

“No, they are not! Ready, Celestia?” Luna asks.

“Ready, Luna! All ponies clear the area!” Celestia’s voice booms out, waits for her instructions to be obeyed, and then their eyes glow.

The very ground shakes beneath them as they apply their power and suddenly the ground collapses in a jagged line leading from the sealed hole outwards for hundreds of meters, the outward sign of a collapsing tunnel that will kill anyone caught inside.

“And that, I believe, is that,” Celestia nods in satisfaction.

“Good riddance!” Rainbow sticks out her tongue.

“Ya’ll reckon we got ‘em all?” Applejack wonders aloud.

Celestia glances at Luna, but has to shake her head as her sister answers for her. “Likely not, given how deep and how quickly the Diamond Dogs can dig. However, ‘tis clear their losses were severe and not easily overcome. Be assured they will think twice about doing this again. And be assured as well we will not be caught off guard a second time!” she turns her baleful gaze on the humans again.

With that, the humans step forward.

“Greetings, Princess Celestia and Luna…” Vasquez speaks for all of them, knowing their names from Twilight’s stories of them and bowing before them as the ponies did. “We must apologize for the bloodshed here. We didn’t mean to bring this war to you or your ponies, but… we did.”

“They fought for us, Princess!” Rainbow quickly steps in front of them, followed by Twilight and the rest of her friends, surviving guardsponies quickly forming up to flank them as well. “They’re not like the others. They fought and died for us! They’re friends and we’d’ve lost without them!”

“Friends? These creatures?” Luna is unimpressed.

“Peace, Luna…” Celestia puts a restraining hoof on her foreleg. “Twilight has told me of you, Lieutenant Alberto Vasquez, and the land you have come from. We do not know how you arrived here or where these mysterious portals came from any more than you do, but as it seems they are a permanent feature of both worlds now, I offer you greeting. You have clearly earned my ponies’ friendship, and that means, mine as well.” She lands and steps forward to greet the human, bowing before him. “If these ‘rebels’ return, we will need you to help plan our defense, as they are equipped with weapons and tactics we have not seen before. To that end, I offer you and your nations alliance.”

“Methinks you are far too trusting, sister…” Luna says. “But, I extend the offer as well, if only to remember the old adage and one should always keep one’s friends close and enemies closer!”

“Luna…”

“No, she has every right not to trust us, Princess,” Vasquez agrees, though uncertain how he should address the near-goddess figures before him—how do you speak to someone who can move Celestial bodies? “It’s not my place to speak for our nations, but as long as we’re here… we’ll help you,” he glances back at his mixed American and British team, who all nod in agreement. “Just know for now that we’ve been fighting these rebels for months now, and every time we thought we’d beaten them, they came back for more. Expect they will here, too.”

“Let them,” Celestia smiles thinly. “We ponies have fought wars before, and have always emerged triumphant. And though there may be more fights ahead, be assured that in the end, this one will be no different in outcome…”

Two weeks after the battle, Ponyville is returning to stride. Surprisingly so, in the view of their human visitors.

“Eh. We’re used to town-destroying disasters,” Applejack just shrugs when asked about it, putting her farm back to rights with the help of the marines now stationed there, which she plies with plenty of fresh produce and pies. “After Nightmare Moon, the parasprites and a rampaging Ursa Minor, reckon ya get used to it. Ya’ll wanna know how many times I’ve already had to rebuild this here barn?”

The rest of the town is likewise being quickly repaired with practiced efficiency that puts most human ones to shame, bullet damage patched and destroyed structures swiftly rebuilt, ponies helping each other out and their human friends erect a real camp. They still don’t know where the portal came from, but their continuing presence have allowed reinforcements to flow through… on both sides, meaning that the war against the Ultranationalists will rage on.

Still, it’s not all bad. Diplomatic relations are swiftly established once they’re able to get messages back across to Earth, and the fruits of their new alliance are already apparent around them, from the American and British flags flying alongside the Equestrian one over a battered but still standing Town Hall, to the joint human/guardspony garrison now patrolling the town and further protected by a mixed company of eight American TOW-armed Bradley fighting vehicles backed by a platoon of four British Challenger tanks. The Town Hall flags are lowered to half-staff to honor the casualties of the battle, but with the joint funeral service completed, they are raised back to full staff that morning. Lower with dignity, raise with pride… Jackson thinks to himself as he salutes his colors and receives a salute from a passing guardspony as well.

“Did we win, L-T?” Jackson can’t help but ask as they look at the fresh cemetery filled with their fallen, including dozens of guardsponies, five Wonderbolts and their own dead tank crew. Civilian casualties had been surprisingly light only because the rebels were trying to capture instead of kill the ponies, but at least four dozen had been killed, either resisting or simply caught in the crossfire… or made an example of, like the Town Mayor. “Ain’t seen hide nor hair of the rebels and double-Ds since the battle. They got their flanks kicked pretty hard. So maybe it’s really over?”

“I don’t think so, Sergeant…” he sighs and shakes his head as Apache attack helicopters buzz overhead flying in formation with surviving Wonderbolts, of whom Rainbow Dash now wears the trainee uniform of. “We whipped the rebels here, but if we’ve learned nothing else from this whole fucking war, we know they won’t give up so easily. They take their losses but they always come back to try again. You can be sure they’re out there somewhere, planning another attack or takeover. And worse, they’ve got allies now…”

“The Diamond Dogs,” Jackson confirms grimly. “Well, so do we. The ponies fought hard and we couldn’t have won without ‘em. They may look cute and cuddly, but I don’t think I’d want anyone else on my side in a fight… ‘cept maybe the Brits.”

“Heard that,” Vasquez agrees, looking over to their right where unicorn archers are now practicing aiming and firing human weapons as well as their own, the SAS team training them in their use and even trying their own hands at the longbows in return. “Between their weather control and magic to just being able to upend a BTR or throw a spear right through a rebel soldier, they may look harmless, but they’re anything but.”

“You’re telling me!” Jackson nods vigorously. “After seeing Shining Armor stop a 125mm tank round with a shield and Twilight fucking melting that T-90…” he shook his head. “Glad she’s on our side. She was in bad shape afterwards, though. Had PTSD something fierce. Think she’s gonna be okay, L-T?”

He hesitates before responding. “She killed a bunch of people and is having a hard time dealing with it. Just have to give her some time. Never mind her magic, she’s a tough little filly. The Princess and her friends are helping her too, but I think the main thing is that as long as Spike is safe and she can defend her town, she’ll be fine.”

“Here’s hoping,” the marine sergeant says, having taken quite the liking to the lavender unicorn over their stay. “She’s keeping busy, at least. She even says she’s getting close to figuring out how to magically replicate our fuel.”

“Good. We’re gonna need it to keep these metal beasts in business,” Vasquez says, nodding at a passing Challenger tank. An American armored battalion is tasked with the protection of Canterlot, while pony and human construction crews are building airfields for attack helicopters and eventually long runways for close-support aircraft in the flat fields east of the town. They will be needed to defend against dragons even if the rebels didn’t bring their own MiGs and Hind attack helicopters with them; it will be weeks, however, before the first squadrons can pass through an aerial portal and touch down. “We still don’t know how many rebels are out there or how they’re bringing their own equipment through.”

“Well, that’s for the brass to worry about. So I take it they’re gonna keep us here now?” Jackson wonders aloud.

“Ain’t official yet, but ain’t no real secret either. Yeah, they’re assigning us as guardspony liaisons and trainers,” Vasquez confirms. “Orders’ll be issued as soon as they hash out a treaty and figure out our chain of command with the ponies. Have to say, it makes sense. If we’re gonna fight together, we need to train together, and the ponies know and trust us now.”

“I’m glad. Just wish we hadn’t brought this war to them…” Jackson sighs as he watches Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom and Scootaloo drive by in their wagon, having shaken off their trauma quickly and now enrapt by the sight of all the new human war machines; he’s even heard they’ve asked if they can try driving a few in hopes of earning their cutie marks. “Twilight and her friends didn’t deserve any of this.”

“It wasn’t by choice, Sergeant.” Vasquez puts a hand on his subordinate’s shoulder. “They don’t blame us, and we shouldn’t blame ourselves. We weren’t trying to come here, and we still don’t know why we got here. By all rights, we should have died in that nuke explosion back in Basrah. But in the end, we’re here, and ain’t nothing for it but to fight for them now,” the marine officer states. “In the end, it doesn’t matter where we are. It’s our job, and we’ll do it.”

“I hear ya, L-T,” Jackson nods. “And they’re worth fighting for, too. So be it. Guess whether we’re in Equestria or on Earth, the Call of Duty never ends…”

THE END

Author's Note

Chrome, reporting! So, it seems Firesight and me had reached the breaking point to CoD. He decided to end it, and I agreed to his decision, since I saw this chapter's... "Epicness", if you want to call it that. Anyway, It's been a pleasure to have made this a long time ago, but as I said, long time stories are behind me, and... so, without further ado, here's Firesight with a message. Peace out, yo! :rainbowdetermined2:

Hey folks! It’s Firesight, story editor and author of the final few chapters. Though the story could continue, I’m calling it here as I heavily edited/rewrote this work as a favor to Raven, but I need to concentrate on my own writing now. Room has been left for a sequel, but if one happens, it’ll be on my account. Hope you enjoyed the retelling and story additions and thanks, Raven, for letting me put my stamp on the story!
Those of you who like what I did with the story and military epics in general are invited to check out my premiere work, Before the Storm: The Rise of Firefly. It tells the story of the founding of the Wonderbolts and its first Captain, Rainbow Dash’s ancestor Firefly, in the context of a coming war with the Gryphons. Yes, Firefly as in the G1 pony. It’s a war epic chock full of battles and badassery, so if you liked the storytelling here, check it out.
Thanks for bearing with me and I’m sorry I couldn’t turn these chapters out faster, but this was an unfamiliar universe to me—I haven’t played the CoD games—and writing something in present tense was not easy as well. I’ll consider it a triumph for all I did with it, however. Raven and I thank you for following, and take care!
—Firesight

Chapter 9 - Allies on the Horizon (Part 1)

As Vasquez and Hanks walk towards the location of Rainbow Dash’s cloud house wondering what exactly they were likely to find or even be able to do about it, a bored Rainbow begins asking questions of them.

“So… what are you guys, exactly?” Rainbow wants to know as she floats in front of them, inspecting their uniforms and gear. “You don’t look like any ape I’ve ever seen!”

“Like Twilight said, we’re humans. And we already know that you’re a pegasus,” Vasquez replies not sure if he likes the brash mare or not.

“Well, what are those things you’re holding?” Rainbow next points a hoof at the weapons they’re carrying.

“These?” Hanks hefts his rifle, looking to his new L-T to answer.

Vasquez considers lying, but decides there is no point—if the ponies are to trust them, they can’t hide things from them. “We’re soldiers—actually marines—from our world. And these are human weapons,” he says simply, hoping it will be enough.

“Weapons?” she gives them a closer look, then shrugs. “Huh. They don’t look like any weapon I’ve ever seen. I mean, the Royal Guard has spears and bows, but they don’t usually need them.” she puts on an unimpressed air.

In relief at her lack of curiosity, Vasquez satisfies his own. “And why is that?”

“Well one… Equestria is at peace and the Guard is mostly ceremonial. I myself want to join the Wonderbolts, who used to be a rapid reaction military force but are now mostly just performance flyers.”

“Performance flyers? Oh, you mean like the Blue Angels?” Hanks pipes up.

“What’re the Blue Angels?” she asks, but doesn’t give them a chance to reply. “Never mind. Second… we don’t really need spears and arrows because we’ve got unicorn magic and weather control. You’d have to be pretty nuts to mess with that!”

That catches them both short. Magic they could understand, but….. “I’m sorry. Weather control?” Vasquez repeats…

She gives them a funny look. “Of course! Pegasi control the weather here. We decide when it rains, when it snows… we can even spin up tornadoes or trigger clouds to fire lightning.” she explains as if it’s no big deal, leaving the two marines gaping and exchanging nervous looks. “In fact, I’m on the Ponyville weather team. Stick around, and you’ll see me clear a sky of clouds in ten seconds flat!” she boasts, doing a loop in the air.

About ten minutes later, they arrive at her house, the two marines looking up to see… a large structure floating up in the air. It’s all white and indeed looks like it’s made of clouds, but there’s a huge gaping hole in both sides of the building, like an entry and exit wound.

“So… that’s your home, Rainbow?” Hanks says, looking at her house floating in midair, the cobra copilot surprised that he could still be surprised after all he has already seen.

She harrumphs. “Well it used to be… until this weird metal bird came through it! It went over that direction,” Rainbow points towards a thin trail of smoke just visible in the moonlight.

Exchanging another look, Vasquez and Hanks immediately set off in that direction. “Whoa! Where are you guys going?” Rainbow Dash flies after them.

“Look, if a ‘metal bird’ hit your house as you say, it might be something from our world. We’ll go check it out and tell you what we find. You stay here.”

“No way! I’m coming with you!” Rainbow insists, crossing her forelegs in front of her.

Vasquez shakes his head. “Look, Rainbow… this is no place for you. We were fighting a war before we came here, and some of our enemies came through with us. There could be trouble over there, and we don’t want you getting hurt.”

Far from dissuading her, Rainbow puts on a cocky air. “Trouble? HA! Trouble’s my middle name! Anybody who wants trouble better watch out, ‘cause Rainbow Dash is here!” she puts a hoof to her chest as she speaks.

Vasquez rubs his eyes, sensing he’s not going to dissuade the cocky mare when her mind is set, and he certainly can’t give her an order to stay behind as he could one of his own men. “Fine, but… stay out of sight, Rainbow. If things blow up, head back to Ponyville and let our friends know what’s happening, okay?” he requests.

To his surprise, she salutes. “You can count on me!” she promises, and then zooms off ahead despite the Lieutenant’s call to wait, returning just a minute later. “I found the big metal bird! But there’s nopony there,” she looks confused.

The two marines weren’t sure whether to be relieved by that or not. “Show us.”

They follow her down the hill and end up in a grassy clearing, well-lit by the moon and find… “That’s a Blackhawk!” Hanks exclaims. “Looks damaged but serviceable if it was able to set down properly. But where’s the crew?” he asks his new L-T in a low voice.

“Don’t know, but I’m going to go check it out. Rainbow Dash, you watch from on high and stay out of sight unless I call you. Hanks, you cover me from the hilltop,” he instructs, going into the clearing, his weapon at ready.

The marine lieutenant makes it halfway to the chopper when hears a single rifle crack and a gout of dirt appears just off to his side.

Someone just fired at him!

“Stand down and lower your weapon! We have you surrounded and outnumber you five to one!” A voice calls out from behind in English, then Russian.

Vasquez immediately drops his weapon and raised his hands. He thinks he recognizes the voice but can’t be certain. “We’re friendlies!” he shouts, praying the next shot wouldn’t be into the back of his head.

“Hold fire, Hold fire!” the familiar english-speaking voice replies. “What the… Vasquez, Is that you?” it asks as the Lieutenant drops his hands and looks behind him, smiling in relief.

“Son of a bitch. I thought it was you, Foley…” Vasquez picks up his rifle from the ground and goes up to shake the Army Ranger’s hand.

“Dude. How are you here? I thought you died in that nuke?” asks Foley, looking him over from head to toe as if to confirm his friend is real.

Vasquez gives a wan grin. “Yeah, I thought so too… until I ended up here, just like you.” Vasquez replies as he radios Hanks to come into the clearing, deciding they can continue their conversation in the chopper bay.

“But… where is here?” Foley asks, looking around again as Hanks joins their group and they walk towards the stricken bird.

“Well, that’s the thing…” Vasquez begins slowly. “This is going to sound crazy, but I don’t think we’re on earth anymore…”

A half-hour later, Vasquez completes his story of how he and Jackson had arrived there. “Wow, Lieutenant…” Christian shakes his head in amazement. “Same thing happened to us when we were shot down by an RPG. We were about to crash, there was this bright white light, we blacked out and then… next thing we knew, we were much higher off the ground and about to hit this weird structure just hanging in midair. Thought we were a goner then too, but we just passed right through it,” he explains, still in disbelief. “After that we set down here.”

That catches Vasquez short. “Wait, you did that?” he asks in surprise, pointing up at Rainbow Dash’s ruined house again.

“We did, actually. But… I mean, it’s just a cloud right? It’s not like it was anybody’s home.” Christian says as he laughs a bit, only to look up and see Vasquez frowning.

“The problem, Sergeant, is that it was…” he precedes to tell them about the native pony inhabitants of the world. “To make a long story short, that was someone’s home. A pegasus pony named Rainbow Dash.”

The team stared at him like he was crazy. “Ponies? Rainbow Dash? Are you freaking insane?!” Dunn laughs out loud, and his teammates join in. “Come on L-T! “We’re not in another world, we can’t be!”

“Hey! I’m dead serious, Dunn! And don’t you dare laugh at me!” Vasquez snaps back, his temper still short after everything he’s been through, not helped by not being taken seriously. “Take a look around you. Is this Russia? Or the Middle East? Where’s the rebel base you were hitting? Was there a jungle-like forest or mountain range where you were? Why can’t we get a GPS signal or reach command? And have you ever seen such a clear starry sky or big moon?” he challenged them all in rapid-fire, his patience strained.

“He’s not lying,” Hanks spoke up for the first time, his voice numb. “This isn’t earth. And the natives are intelligent ponies.”

The group shifted uncomfortably at the conclusion they were being forced to reach. “Okay, I admit things are off here, but seriously, Vasquez… Ponies? Who would believe that ridiculous story? Did you hit your head or something? Or are the rebels now slipping you some weird drug cocktail that makes you hallucinate?” Foley asks seriously.

His patience at an end, Vasquez was about to ream the sergeant when Hanks broke in. “If I may suggest, L-T… we could just show them her, ” he motions with a thumb to the sky, where Rainbow is hiding.

The marine officer exhales sharply, kicking himself for not having done so already. “You’re right. Seeing is believing…” he looks up into the sky, spotting a single cloud with a silhouetted head peering down from over it. “Hey Rainbow! Come down from there and show these motherfuckers you’re real!” he orders, while the Rangers just glance between each other certain Vasquez and Hanks had both lost their minds. That lasted until there was an answering “Okay!” and accompanying rainbow streak out of the sky, followed by a very real creature planting herself in front of them, her features clearly visible in the bright moonlight.

“Rainbow Dash is the name, and being totally awesome is my game!” she announced with a hoof on her chest, her wings flared as if in display, a four-legged, four-foot tall winged-pony with a prismatic mane and tail. Dunn immediately got startled and fell backwards, while the others just stared in shock. “So are you the guys the ones who wrecked my house?” her expression turns angry and she stamps her hoof once.

“What—what the hell is that thing!” Dunn stumbles backwards, pointing a shaky finger at Rainbow.

“Hey, what do you mean thing?” Rainbow Dash takes immediate offense. “What, have you never seen a pony before?”

“They haven’t… and neither had we before today,” Hanks explained.

“Seriously?” Rainbow asks, unable to comprehend a world where her name is unknown.

“Wow, guess he was telling the truth after all…” Christian acknowledges while looking at her. “Sorry, we’re just new here,” he offers weakly, feeling faint. “Uh… can you really fly?”

That made her even more annoyed. “Of course I can!” she says, going into an immediate hover, doing a few simple tricks for emphasis.

“Of course she can,” Allen repeats numbly, still gawking.

“You believe me now, Sergeant?” Vasquez glares at Foley.

“We’re in another world… yes sir,” the veteran Ranger finally admits, even if he still can’t quite comprehend it. Trying to master his nerves he turns to Rainbow. “Um, sorry about your house…” he offers weakly.

“Eh, it’s okay. Cloud’s easy enough to fix, just a bit time-consuming. And I’d been thinking about upgrading it anyway. So what about that weird bird you came in? How does that work?”

“Well, uh…”

“Will someone please tell me why we’re talking to a winged horse?” Dunn asked again, clutching his head.

Rainbow shoots him a look, then darts over to the corporal and sticks a hoof in his chest. “And will someone please tell me why I’m talking to a bunch of weird apes who think I’m not real?” she gets in his face to answer him, causing Foley to burst out laughing.

“Okay, I like this filly, L-T. She’s got spunk,” he says in approval. “Sorry, Miss. We’re just… kind of far away from home right now.”

The corners of Vasquez’s mouth turn up as well and he claps Foley on the shoulder. “If it’s any consolation, you took it better than me, Sergeant. When I saw one of them for the first time, I didn’t do too well either. But they’re friendly, and they’re willing to help us.”

“They? Wait, you mean there’s more of them?!” Liam and Dunn ask in unison.

“Many more, and more of us, too,” he answered. “It’s not just soldiers crossing over, either, some of our vehicles have appeared here as well—aside from your chopper, we’ve got a crashed Cobra in the jungle and an Abrams tank that got deposited right in front of the local town hall. It was caught in the nuke blast too, and yet… here it is. And we may need it since it seems some ultra-nationalists came here as well,” he says grimly. “I’ve already fought a few. So we can’t drop our guard.”

“Ultra-what?” Rainbow asks.

“Shit,” Foley replies. “Can’t escape the call of duty no matter where we are, I guess. Alright then… take us to this town, L-T. I could use some sleep,” Foley yawns as he stands up from the chopper entrance.

“Sure. Just be ready for a lot more ponies when we get there. That means no more freakouts, understood?” he glares at Dunn in particular, who nods sullenly but picks himself back up.

“Lead the way, Rainbow Dash,” Hanks invites, and she does so, taking flight and heading towards Ponyville, leaving a colorful streak in the air even visible in the moonlight.

“No problem! Just follow me!” she invites, doing a few more flying tricks for them as she goes.