Steve and Scoots

by gmen15

Rating: teen
Tags: Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Human, Sad, Original Character, Scootaloo
Length: 31010

A soldier in Afghanistan that has nothing to live for finds Scootaloo in a bomb-ridden town.

Private Steven Clint is a man with nothing. A 35-year old soldier who had the rare experience of losing both his wife and daughter while he was overseas in Afghanistan. The armband on his right bicep with Scootaloo's face on it serves as a reminder of the daughter he lost, for in Scootaloo's face he saw her own.

While patrolling a small Afghan town after a bombing, Steve ventures into the alley to find a sight he never thought he would. The same small, orange filly that was on his arm. The same on that reminded him of his daughter.

Now he must protect her from the surrounding war until she finds a way to get home.

A special thanks to "RainbowdashEpicness" for helping me edit this story.

Also, if anyone is interested in making an image that I can use as a cover picture (besides this one which I got off google images), let me know.

I hope you enjoy :)

Published 2012-07-07 13:34:02 UTC
Last updated 2012-11-01 15:36:14 UTC

An Afghan Alley

An Afghan Alley

[A/N] Just a heads up to all readers, I am not in the army or any division of the armed forces. So if I butcher anything army-related please let me know.

Otherwise, I hope you enjoy the story :)

And another thanks to RainbowdashEpicness for the help in editing this story.

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Chapter 1- An Afghan Alley

Sand; that’s all that there was out here in the Afghani desert, fucking sand.

My eyes scanned the landscape, barren, as it might have been, with the hope of finding something that would make this place seem alive. Save for the occasional village of course, which usually had more of a reputation for taking lives rather than preserving it.

My breath fogged up the window of the truck I sat in as I stared outside. My head began to itch from the dryness that serving in the Middle East created. I began to claw at the top of my head, moving my thick helmet slightly so I could scratch my scalp. I then put my hand back down onto my M4 Carbine, as it lay across my sweat-covered lap. I licked my lips, dry as my scalp, and turned to see Charlie looking out of the window on his side of the vehicle, biting his nails and muttering to himself. Knowing him, I guessed that it was a prayer of some kind. Charlie was always into that stuff, seeming to find some hope in his prayers, thinking that maybe someone up above would listen to him and protect us, though I wasn’t so sure.

After all, he’s been praying since we’ve been here and more than one of our close friends has had their lives taken in some of the most brutal ways imaginable. I still remember the day that Vincent, a guy that Charlie and I were close friends with, had been unfortunately close to a car that some crazy bastard equipped with a bomb.

Not only that, but the vehicle was later revealed to have a box of sharp, silver knives within it, which explained the numerous civilians and soldiers who had been killed by the flying blades as they were shot off in every direction.

Vincent had a knife in his jugular; the poor bastard was still alive when Charlie, I, as well as the rest of our team, reached him. Our medic, Brad, began to press gauze to the wound, whispering comforting words to Vincent, though even he wasn’t fool enough to think that he’d survive such a wound.

Nevertheless, Charlie, as he did everything that Brad told him to do, continued to pray to God to spare Vincent’s life, to let him get back home to his mother, who already had the pain of losing her husband to cancer the pervious month.  Charlie closed his eyes and prayed as hard as he could for our friend’s life.

Everyone else was whispering words of reassurance to Vincent as he took his last breath. His eyes closed as the blood continued to soak through the gauze and stain his camouflaged military uniform.

To say that was a horrible day would have been the understatement of the millennium. But it wasn’t the worst, at least for me.

I loved Vincent like a brother, being in the same unit usually meant that everybody there thought of each other as family. We faced death together, we survived together, and some of us even died together.

But there was one day that topped that about three months after Vincent took his last gasp of the air, most likely taking in his fair share of sand as it blew around him, and died in the middle of that tiny Afghan town.

As my memory of that day with Vincent flooded back into my mind while I sat in the vehicle, I looked down at the purple band that went around my bicep. On the band was the face of a cartoon pony, smiling with big, pure, purple eyes. As I looked into her innocent face, I was reminded of them. I was reminded of my family.

I remembered my wife, Carol, and our beautiful daughter, Amy. Amy was the sweetest, most expressive and intelligent daughter a father could ever ask for. I remembered the days I watched her play soccer while I was on reprieve from duty for a month or two, and being in awe of her skills. Her raw talent and ability to completely fake out each and every defender as she made her way down the field.

She wanted to be the best she could be in soccer. She was determined to make a name for herself, to lift herself up to the level of the players and other people she saw as heroes. That’s why I wear a band with the picture of the orange pony on it.

Scootaloo.

Amy had gotten into My Little Pony back in 2010. She was always the tomboy type and hated My Little Pony up until that point, only watching it when she heard her friends talking about it at school. As soon as she started to watch the show, it was all she could ever talk about.

Well, that and soccer.

Because of her obsession with the show, I decided to watch some episodes with her, as a little “father-daughter time” before I had to go back overseas.

I wouldn’t be back for another few months, my break being relatively long compared to others I’ve had, so I told her that we could do anything she wanted before I left.

She chose watch the show, and I didn’t fight her. After all, it was what she wanted, and I wouldn’t be seeing her all that often anyway.

I didn’t realize how much I’d get into it, though.

Maybe it was the great animation, or the quirky storylines. Maybe it was the great characters, or maybe it was just because of my need to watch something wholesome and innocent after seeing so much death and destruction in my relatively short thirty-five years of life. Or maybe it was because it made me feel closer to my daughter.

No matter what the reason was, I was hooked, and for the rest of my time home with Amy and Carol, I watched episode after episode, until we had caught up and had finished the end of the first season by the time I had to go back.

Amy loved Rainbow Dash; she always talked about her like she was some sort of goddess. It reminded me of how she seemed to look up to players on the U.S. women’s’ national team, such as Hope Solo and Abby Wambach. Hell, it reminded me of how she seemed to look up to Cherry Reese, the star high school soccer player from the town we lived in who was going to UCLA that fall.

This led to me calling her “Scootaloo” and “Scoots’, something that annoyed her, but I personally loved. I mean, come on, she was just like Scootaloo. The little orange filly worshiped Rainbow Dash like Amy did, not to mention both Amy and Scootaloo were very tomboyish and always determined to achieve greatness no matter the cost.

This continued until I had to go back to Afghanistan in May of 2011. I said my tearful good-bye to Amy and hugged her tight while Carol covered her mouth, letting out small sobs as she tired to keep herself from breaking down in front of Amy.

Once we broke the hug, Amy and I looked at each other. I managed to hold back my tears for Amy, but she wasn’t holding anything back and just kept sobbing.

“I don’t want you to go back there daddy.”

“I have to sweetie.” I muttered back.

“But…but what if something bad happens to you?” Amy whimpered.

I shook my head, “Nothing bad will happen, I’ll be back home faster than you can blink your eyes.”

Amy quickly wrapped her arms around me in another hug, which I returned almost instantly. I could feel as tears began to fall from her eyes and land onto the fabric of my shirt.

She pulled back and reached into the pocket of the jeans she was wearing. When her hand came out, I saw what appeared to be a purple armband, about an inch in width, and a familiar orange face on it.

She handed it to me and I looked down into the face of Scootaloo, which was smiling back up at me.

“So you’ll think about me.” Amy said with a smile, though the tears continued to flow down her cheeks.

I looked up at her and put both of my hands onto the sides of her face and smiled, “I would never forget you sweetie.”

With that, I leaned in and kissed her on the forehead. I then stood back up, Amy reaching up as if she wanted me to stay down with her, hugging her without ever letting go. I turned to Carol, who was crying herself.

I gave her a big hug as she kissed the side of my face.

I heard her whisper into my ear, “Please don’t break that promise you made to Amy; when you do come back, don’t let it be in a body bag.”

“It won’t be.” I said as we broke off and kissed on the lips. Normally Amy would find this repulsive, but whenever she saw Carol and I do it before my deployment it would only make her cry harder, and wish that this usually “mushy-gushy” kiss could last forever.

I waved to them as I walked down the long, grey tunnel that led to the plane. The lights on the ceiling, as well as the sunlight that crept through the small spaces in the tunnel, managed to give the walk some hint of optimism, even if I was heading to war.

I got onto the plane and sat down with some other soldiers, most of who were in different units. Charlie, who happened to live in the same city that I did, hence why were got along so well, was in my regiment, and we had become best friends since serving.

I took my seat next to him and buckled the seat belt as I continued to look down at the band that Amy had given me. Charlie looked over and chuckled, “Dude, what’s up with the pony band?”

“Amy gave it to me.” I answered as I continued to look down at it. I sighed as the thoughts of Amy flashed into my mind. I kissed Scootaloo’s face on band for good luck and pulled it over my right arm so that the orange pony’s face was pressed against Charlie’s side. It may have been hidden now, but once I got off of the plane and entered the desert; everyone would see her face on my arm.

I didn’t give a shit what others thought; all I knew was that it made me feel closer to my daughter. My daughter that I knew I’d be separated from for a long while.

But I never expected “a long while” to translate into “forever”.

About four months later I was laying in my quarters, tossing a football up and listening to music on my iPod. I had gotten some songs from ‘My Little Pony” that I would often listen to after a hard day. It always managed to cheer me up no matter what horrible turn of events had happened.

After Vincent was killed, I listened to “Winter Wrap Up” until my emotions began to settle down. I was still miserable, but the sadness was more bearable with the cheery songs playing.

I listened to “At the Gala” after a young boy was used as a living bomb. An explosive was strapped to his chest and detonated in the middle of a small town square when the EOD team couldn’t reach him in time.

It was like a scene out of “The Hurt Locker”

But there was one time nothing, not even the cheery faces of colorful ponies or the optimistic songs that they sang, could cheer me up.

I remembered the day he was at the base, laying on his cot while tossing a small football up into the air playfully, boredom having driven me to find the most repetitive task exciting. The flap to my tent had opened and I initially thought that it was Charlie, who went out to grab some of the guys and bring them to our tent for our nightly game of poker.

Instead, I was greeted by the sight of Captain Will Shore, the head of my unit, and two other soldiers, walking into our tent with the most somber faces I could imagine.

Regardless, I treated it like any other time when Captain Shore was in my presence. I hopped off of the bed and gave him a quick salute. Once I did this, he let out a deep sigh and nodded, “At ease Private.”

I nodded and kept looking at Captain Shore as he made his way over to me. He placed his hand onto my shoulder, “Private Clint, I’m very sorry that I have to be the one to report this horrible news to you.”

I raised my eyebrow, “Horrible news sir?”

The sad look in the captain’s eyes, a look I never saw on his face unless one of our men had been killed, and even then he usually would mask his true sorrow for the sake of the dead, believing that it was more respectful to be strong for those killed in action, rather than let oneself be reduced to a blithering mess.

“It’s your wife and daughter.” He said.

My heart froze, and I could feel the blood drain from my face. It’s a strange feeling; the moment before you knew some terrible news was about to be laid on you. I

I wanted to run, I wanted to cover my ears with my hands, hell I wanted to plug in my earphones and listen to music! Instead, I stayed still and squeaked out a question.

“What…what about them?”

I asked this, but in my gut I already knew the answer.

“There was a car accident yesterday, some drunk teenager went down the wrong side of the road and hit a Ford.” Captain Shore responded.

Carol drove a Ford, a blue Taurus sedan with a cracked, right headlight.

Captain Shore continued, “The teen survived, but the people in the other car…they weren’t so lucky…”

I shook my head as Captain Shore put his hand onto my shoulder and looked into my eyes, knowing that I realized what had happened.

“I’m sorry, Steve. But your wife and daughter are dead.”

Anytime the captain called us by only our first names, you knew that he felt your pain, and this time was no different. However, I still doubted he could feel the exact pain that I felt at hearing those words.

My stomach turned and clenched, I bit my lip as I tried to hold back my tears; keeping strong in front of the captain. But I knew that my eyes, which were now red and watering, had betrayed me. I nodded before I took a step back and sat onto my bed, burying my face in my hands to hide my tears.

Captain Shore and the other two privates left the room as I cried, tears making their way through the spaces between my fingers and landing on the ground at my feet. When Charlie and the others came by, they all heard the bad news and tried to console me, but eventually realized that it was best to leave me be and play poker in Butch and Davis’ tent. Charlie offered to stay, but I waved him off and told him to go play poker with the others. He insisted until I told him that I did appreciate how he was there for me, but I preferred to be left alone. He nodded and left me alone.

For the next few nights, I did everything I could to cheer myself up, but to no avail. I listened to more songs from “My Little Pony” and even watched some of the episodes I had with Amy, but all that did was make me more miserable.

The knowledge that only a few months before I had enjoyed the show with my now deceased daughter, who happened to remind me of one of the characters, made the songs like a dagger to not just my heart, but to my soul.

As the months passed, I became more reckless. I did everything I could to stay in the battlefield, including trying to give up my space to go home to someone else, so that they could enjoy more time with their own families. People who cared about them, something I didn’t have waiting for me anymore.

Captain Shore refused and forced me to go home, thinking that it would help me get through the pain if I was able to be away from the hectic nature of the war.

But all it did was remind me of it. Amy’s now empty room, filled with merchandise from “My Little Pony”, little figurines of Rainbow Dash and her friends scattered all over her room. But mostly I saw the cyan pegasus, Amy’s favorite character, and the occasional Scootaloo figurine that I bought for her as a joke.

She was initially annoyed, but a pony figurine was a pony figurine, and she did like Scootaloo.

The pictures of all three of us that hung around the house, Amy’s soccer uniform that was in the hamper, apparently waiting to be washed before the accident.

Was Carol taking her out for ice cream after her game when it happened? Did Amy stop by home to shower and then leave with excitement as she thought that Carol and her would just grab some ice cream for a game well played?

These questions made me cry more, and soon I was calling the army, begging to get sent back early. Eventually, they caved in and upon arrival to the plane to be sent off, they just looked at my like I was some kind of loon.

Who can blame them; I mean how many soldiers begged to go back to war?

It’s now summer 2012, and I have been on tour for four months now. My shifts were different; usually I was away from home for six to seven months at a time. Sometimes the duration was longer, and other times it was shorter. Either way, I no longer dreaded war, and actually looked at it as my sole reason for living.

Instead, I dreaded going home to my empty house, a house that only served as a reminded of the life I had lost. I even considered moving out at a point, but the hassle of packing and unpacking, I just wasn’t up for it.

I spent my entire time in Afghanistan worrying about my own safety, worried that I wouldn’t be able to make any more of Amy’s soccer games, that I’d miss her graduation, that I’d miss her grow up into the beautiful woman that I knew she’d be.

I never knew that I’d be the one alive, and they’d be gone.

Now, I’m a shell of a man. My main goal in life is to make sure my comrades in arms make it home to their own families, no matter the cost to me. I have run into gunfire to save them, I have done crazy things that no man with something to live for would ever consider doing.

But I wasn’t one of those men.

I had nothing and I knew that I had friends that had everything. Friends who died beside me and had to be send home to their families in a black box with a folded flag draped over it.

Why should they die and I live when I have nothing to live for, and they have something?

That was my creed, and anytime I felt fear build up within me, I’d look at the little, smiling face of Scootaloo that was on my armband and think about Amy. Think about all the other soldiers’ kids who could be fatherless if I didn’t step up to protect them.

“Hey, we’re here!” My mind came back to reality when I felt Charlie tap me on the shoulder. I looked over towards him as he pointed out of the car. “Looks like they weren’t kidding, this place is a fucking crater.”

“Great, another confirmed homicide bombing.”  I thought with a groan as I got out of the Hummer, my gun in my hands and ready to be fired at a moments notice. “Just more death I guess, nothing new here.”

I exited the Hummer and immediately felt the blazing desert sun radiate off of my exposed skin as I stepped into the Afghan afternoon.

I took a deep breath in and surveyed the area.

Save for the tiny, run-down town, it was desolate. I could hear screams and cries coming from the front of the convoy. I saw Captain Shore exit the Hummer that was in front of us. Our caravan had four trucks, and two Strykers, one in the front of the line and one in the back.

Captain Shore motioned for us to come forward. Charlie and I walked on to join the captain, as well as the other members of our unit. Butch, Davis, Chris and Ben were the four that hopped out of the hummer that was behind the one Charlie and I had been in. Brad, our medic, got out of the hummer that we were in and followed us to the front.

We could see that other units had arrived to clear the area, including an EOD team that was busy checking around, making sure there were no other bombs that were planted.

It wouldn’t be the first time a primary explosion had been used before a second one went off, killing those who stopped by to clean the mess left by the first one.

As we got closer, we also noticed the smoke that billowed up into the air, making the otherwise bright day much more gloomy and grim. The smell of charred flesh and fuel of some kind, most likely used as a means of detonation, filled the air and made all of us start to gag as we reached the captain. I even had to use my shirt collar as a makeshift mask when the air quality became almost un-breathable.

“Gentlemen, we are here to survey the area and make sure there are no other bombs or threats around. Understood?”

We all gave him a “yes, sir” before he gave us the areas he wanted us to go to. Charlie, Brad, Davis and I went to one area, while Butch, Chris, Ben and Captain Shore went to another. And I was finally able to pull my shirt collar down and get some air as my nostrils got used to the slightly more smoky air.

Our main assignment was to keep an eye out for anybody who could pose a threat. We reached an area that was relatively close to the site of the explosion; the walls of the surrounding buildings were charred black. As I pressed my hand against the wall, I could feel the grime on my glove. My observation was confirmed when I looked down at my gloved hand and saw the black from the building had made its new home on it.

“So what are we supposed to do exactly?” Davis asked.

“Don’t you ever listen to the Captain Davis? We’re supposed to survey the area to see if we find any other bombs or insurgents.” Charlie answered as he turned to me, “right Steve?”

“Huh?” I asked, looking up from my blackened hand before I nodded, “Oh yeah. He said that.”

“Dude, we’re in a warzone. Stop looking at your God-damned hand and be vigilant.” Brad muttered, “I don’t really want to have to piece you back together because you were too busy admiring your gloves.”

This earned a laugh from Davis and Charlie, though I just gave a small smile.

I haven’t laughed in months, and wasn’t going to start here, in a small down that had been bombed only a little while before. No, this was no time for fun and games; it was time to get work done.

“Let’s check out the alley.” I suggested, pointing to a small alley in-between the two buildings that were right near the site of the explosion.

“No man, it’s too risky.” Charlie answered, “Besides, if there’s a bomb, it’s more likely to be in the street than an alley.”

“But a person could be hiding there.” I said quietly, looking down the alley with a new goal. To search it. "Yeah, I'll check it out."

“All right, but I’m coming with you.” Charlie said but I held up my hand.

“No, you stay here. I’ll only be a minute.”

“Steve, I won’t let you keep playing a cowboy wannabe.” Charlie growled, “Let me come with you.”

I shook my head and pushed by him, “I’ll scream if I get shot at, you stay here.”

I could hear Charlie’s call out to me as I crept down the dark alley, my gun held up, finger on the trigger as I was ready to fire at anything that got in my way.

I continued down, the light growing more and more faint and the smell of smoke somehow increasing. Maybe it was the grime on the building? Maybe it was the narrow space that had somehow trapped the smoke? Either way, I felt myself start to cough a little. I had to pull my shirt over my nose to make it easier to breath before continuing.

I stopped and looked around, eyes peeled for anything that stood out as dangerous.

Nothing did.

I sighed and turned to leave the alley when I heard a small cough. I quickly turned around and pointed my gun at the direction of the cough, which happened to come from behind a battered, black dumpster that was pressed to the right side of the alley.

“Whose there!?!” I ordered, feeling my hands start to shake as I held firmly onto the gun.

There was a brief silence before I heard another cough, followed by a young girl’s voice.

“P-Please…please don’t hurt me.”

My eyes went wide and I lowered my gun slightly.

A girl? Not just any girl, but an American. Or at least I thought it was an American. It had an American accent rather than a local one. She also spoke English and sounded like she was about twelve to thirteen years old, close to the same age as Amy.

“I’m…I’m scared.” The girl whimpered. It was now clear that she was crying. “I don’t know where I am.”

“You’re in an alley.” I said like an idiot. Of course she knew that she was in an alley, she was a kid, not an idiot.

“I know…I ran in here when I heard that scary noise!”

“Scary noise? The bomb? Had she been around when the shop exploded and took cover in an alley? Poor kid.” I thought before responding.

“Well, the noise is gone, the bomb’s already detonated. It’s safe to come out now.”

I heard the little girl sniffle. I could see a shadow of a head peak around the corner of the dumpster. I still couldn’t make out her face, but she could now see me, and my gun.

“Can you put…that…thing down?” she asked, waving what I assumed to be her hand at me, though it looked strange. I didn’t see any fingers. I wondered if they had maybe been blown off in the explosion, or if she had her fist clenched as she waved.

“Yeah…okay…” I said as I slowly lowered my gun. Sure it was probably a stupid thing to do, but so was go into the ally and force the others to stay outside for their own safety. Plus, I didn’t want to scare the poor girl anymore than I already had. “It’s down…my gun is down. It’s safe to come out.”

She slowly made her way out from behind the dumpster, her body first hidden by the shadows, but I could tell one thing immediately.

She didn’t look human.

I suddenly got nervous, my heart beating faster and faster as she came closer to me.

Once she left the shadow, and I could see her, I could feel my jaw drop.

There, standing in the shadows about three feet in front of me, was a very sad and scared looking cartoon pony.

But it wasn’t just any pony; it was the same little pegasus filly that I was currently wearing on my shoulder, the one with the innocent purple eyes that were now watery.

She looked up at me and sniffled a little before she ran over to my legs and hugged them tight, sobbing into my pants. She was small, but not as small as I had expected. If she stood on her back hooves, she’d be about the size of a human baby.

I was baffled, how could something like this be possible. And why was she so trusting of me when I had a gun moments before?

My guess was that she was scared, and now was just happy to have someone to cry on.

I didn’t know how to react; I mean how many times does someone find a cartoon character in our reality? So I did the first thing that came to mind, I bent down and got to her eye-level. She looked up at me and I let out a sigh.

Seeing this sweet little filly cry was honestly one of the most heart-wrenching things I’ve ever seen in my life.

“It’s okay…” I whispered to her as I patted her on the head.

Scootaloo nodded and looked up at me before asking, “T-thanks mister. W-What’s…what’s your name?”

I smiled back at her, trying to make her feel better about the situation that she was in, “My name is Private Steven Clint, you can call me Steve though. I know my whole title can be quite a mouthful.”

She wiped her tears away and looked back up at me, “I’m Sc-Scootaloo.”

I nodded and decided not to tell her about anything yet. She had clearly been though enough, and learning that she was a character on a television show would most likely cause her to be even more scared.

Suddenly, she pressed her face against my chest, as she could now reach it since I was squatting, and cried. All I could to was rub her back. I looked down to see that she seemed physically unhurt, even her little wings seemed to be fine, tucked up at her sides.

But I knew she was miserable, and as if to solidify this idea, she whimpered out one sentence.

“I want to go home.”

Explanations

Chapter 2: Explanations

Once she had finished crying, Scootaloo looked up at me with pleading eyes, “Please, will you help me get back home?”

I sighed and rubbed my temples, not sure how I’d be able to get her home, but at the same time not willing to say “no, I have no idea.”

That would break her heart even more.

I did the only thing that I could. I nodded and said, “Of course, I’ll get you home.”

Scootaloo’s grim face suddenly brightened up as she hugged my legs again, “Thankyouthankyouthankyou!!!!”

I smiled and bent over to rub her head, giving her a bit of a messy mane, which I thought was adorable.

“First thing’s first, we need to get out of this alley.” I said.

Scootaloo and I headed to the end of the alley, the light starting to brighten as we approached open space, when I suddenly remembered one; huge, vital thing that I couldn’t believe slipped my mind.

“Oh crap, I can’t let the others see you.” I muttered, which made Scootaloo stop in her tracks and look up at me.

“What do you mean?”

“Just trust me, okay.” I said as I looked around for some way to hide her.

Unfortunately, Charlie already spotted me and was on his way over. He ran into the alley, Brad and Davis right behind him.

“Steve!” Charlie shouted as he came closer. I knew that there was no way to hide her now, so I just shut my eyes and prayed that the three guys wouldn’t freak out too much. “Dude, where were you we’ve been worried….”

He froze when his blue eyes landed on Scootaloo, who looked back up into his eyes.

Brad and Davis finally reached us as well and stopped when they, too, saw the little, orange filly standing on the ground below them. Their eyes went wide and they began to shake their heads in disbelief.

Scootaloo seemed a bit frightened, but I held out my hand to her, “Scootaloo, it’s okay. These are my buds. They aren’t going to hurt you.”

Scootaloo relaxed a bit at my reassurances. She then stuck her hoof out towards the three soldiers and smiled the way only a child could. Pure enthusiasm.

“Hey, I’m Scootaloo.”

The three didn’t say anything and continued to stare down at Scootaloo like she had some sort of large mole on her face. Her happy expression fell, replaced by a somewhat aggravated one, “What? Haven’t you guys ever seen a pony before?”

“Not one with wings.” Brad muttered.

“Or one that’s animated.” David added.

Charlie kept silent until he looked up at me and pointed to my shoulder, “Hey Steve isn’t Scootaloo here the one that’s on your armband?”

I froze and glared at Charlie with pure anger, which made him hold his hands up like he wasn’t sure what he did wrong. I turned to look down at Scootaloo, who wasn’t even in front of me anymore. No, now she was at my right side, looking up at the armband that had her face on it. She looked at me with a scowl and pointed to the band.

“Why in the hay is my face on your arm?”

I didn’t know what to say. Eventually she’d have to know the truth, but did it have to be now, in the middle of a town that had just had a bomb go off a short time ago? Didn’t really seem opportune.

“Listen, Scootaloo…” I gulped and took a deep breath in, and then exhaled, “…I’ll tell you later. But right now you need to come with us.”

Scootaloo looked at me like I was some sort of liar. I was clear that she didn’t completely trust me, even after she seemed to be so “huggy” a few minutes ago.

“I don’t know…how can I be sure that I can trust you? I mean, some bozo with a filly’s face on his arm; sort of creepy if you ask me.”

“I understand your lack of trust with me, especially with this.” I said, pointing to the purple band on my arm that Scootaloo was still staring at. “But do you really want to stay here? There’s no telling when another bomb might go off, and I don’t want somepony as sweet as you to get hurt.”

“Somepony?” Brad asked. Having never seen the show, it would only make sense for Charlie, Brad and Davis to be confused by me using such words.

“It’s their version of somebody.” I replied. Brad nodded, but he still seemed a bit uneasy about the whole situation.

Scootaloo suddenly went back to her fearful state and looked down at her hooves, her eyes no longer looking angry, but now looked just as frightened as the rest of her body made her out to be.

She nodded, “All right, I’ll come with you.” She then looked up at me with the same, confrontational glare she had moments before, “but you’d better tell me EVERYTHING later.”

I agreed and with that, I turned to the others, “Can you three help me sneak her out of this alley?”

They looked at each other like they didn’t understand what I said until Brad nodded to me, “Yeah, hang on.”

He ran back to the hummer and grabbed a soft, blue blanket that he often used on injured soldiers who were cold. He ran back and handed the blanket to me, which I then used to pick up Scootaloo.

“Hey bud, be careful. I’m a pony, not a sack of potatoes.” She snapped.

“Good to see she isn’t scared anymore.” I thought as I wrapped her up so only her head was poking out of the blanket. It was like carrying a baby.

We all made our way back to the Hummer and I gently lowered her onto the back seat. I told the driver, who was oblivious to Scootaloo’s presence, to make sure no one stopped by the vehicle.

Apparently, he didn’t think too much of it and agreed and with that. I leaned into Scootaloo’s ear and whispered to her that she wasn’t to move at all until I got back. She gave me a small nod just before I covered her up with the blanket, making her just look like a small lump in a mass of blue fabric.

I left her in the Hummer and went over to join Charlie and the others as the Captain finished talking with another captain about the situation, and how the area was clean of any second bombs or insurgents.

He then turned to us and ordered us back to our respective vehicles. We all agreed and walked back. Once I was back in the truck, I gently lifted the blanket off of Scootaloo’s head to make sure she was all right.

Again, she looked annoyed, “It’s so hot under this thing!” she whispered as she pointed up at the blanket that I was currently holding just above her head.

“I know; just stay hidden until we reach the base.”

She rolled her eyes and pressed her chin onto the seat and let out a mumbled “fine” before I lay the blanket back onto her, but I decided to leave her head exposed so she could cool off a bit. She looked up at me, bewildered, but I just smiled back.

“I don’t want you to get heatstroke,” I whispered, “besides, no one will see you here anyway, as long as you stay low to the seat.”

She nodded and gave me a small smile before gently resting her head onto the leather seat.  I gently placed my hand onto her head and stoked her mane in an attempt to calm her down when I felt the sudden lurch of the vehicle as we started to drive off. Scootaloo initially jumped at the feeling of the truck moving forward so suddenly, but eventually rested back against the seat and let out a sigh, as she realized nothing bad was happening at the moment.

She closed her eyes and started to drift off to sleep.

I looked up from her to see Charlie looking at me before asking, “Where did you find her?”

It was times like these I was glad that the hummer made so much noise, keeping the driver oblivious to our conversation.

“In the alley, she was behind a dumpster.” I answered before looking down at her with the utmost sorrow, “She was hiding from the bomb.”

“She actually heard the bomb?” Charlie asked and I nodded. “Jesus Christ; she’s gone through a lot already hasn’t she?”

“In-between being pulled from her own world and experiencing the worst of our own?” I asked, which made Charlie shrug. He pulled out his cross and began to mutter some prayers. I could hear him say “Scootaloo” and “pony” and “care”, so I assumed the prayer was for the little filly that was sleeping I the middle seat between Charlie and I; her eyes closed and her breathing calm.

After about an hour of driving through the seemingly endless desert, we reached our base. It was relatively large and filled with tents and Jeeps that drove around, driving captains and other officers around the camp to different locations for meetings to plan attacks or simply discuss overall strategy. A couple of soldiers were playing basketball at one of the courts that were available for recreation, and some were just walking around, discussing the day’s events from laid back and silly things, to things that almost resulted in their deaths.

Once the Hummer stopped, I gently scooped Scootaloo up and brought her out of the vehicle to meet with Captain Shore and the others. Once we were re-grouped, Captain Shore nodded, “Gentlemen, tomorrow we head back out at around 0700, so rest up.”

He saluted us and we returned it. For me it was a little difficult, having to balance the hidden filly in one arm and salute my captain with the other. Captain Shore nodded and we all dispersed, but not before he stopped me. “Private Clint, what’s that in the blanket?”

I gulped, “It’s nothing sir.”

“It’s some ammo we picked up in town.” Charlie cut in to save me.

Captain Shore didn’t seem to completely buy it, but he let us go on our way regardless. We both walked back to our tent and once inside. I put Scootaloo onto the floor and watched as she gingerly stepped out from within the blanket, her fur sweaty and her eyes showing that she had just woken up. She let out a sigh of relief as she was freed from the heat prison otherwise known as Brad’s medical blanket.

Charlie and I watched as Scootaloo trotted around the room, exploring a little bit before turning up at us, “Okay, now that we’re here I want answers.”

Both Charlie and I looked at each other and I motioned for him to leave.

“I can handle this. Besides, I watch the show.”

Charlie nodded and turned to walk out to leave me alone with Scootaloo. Once the flap shut, or as much as a flap can “shut”, behind him, I sighed and began my arduous task of explaining things to the little filly.

“Okay, I understand that you want answers?”

Scootaloo nodded.

“In this world, you’re not real.” I said, saying the word “real” with uneasiness as I realized how mean it sounded. Not to mention the look Scootaloo gave me once I did say it confirmed this notion.

“What do you mean, not real?” she asked, taking a step towards me.

“You’re characters on a television show…er…I mean, you and the other ponies of Ponyville are all fictional beings, like those that are found in books. Except with television shows, it’s visual, so we actually see you and your adventures.”

Scootaloo seemed confused so I decide to just put all of the cards onto the table, so to speak and show her an episode. The Wi-Fi at the base was surprisingly good, so logging into YouTube wasn’t a problem. I grabbed my computer and pulled up one of the episodes starring the Cutie Mark Crusaders, the one called “Stare Master” where she and her friends were being watched by Fluttershy, and put the computer onto my cot. I then picked her up and placed her onto the cot as well so she could get a better view of the screen.

About five minutes into the episode she looked at me with the most bewildered eyes, “How…how is this possible?”

“You’re asking the wrong guy.” I answered as I walked over and turned my computer off, thinking that she had seen enough to thoroughly mess up her mind.

“But…but then if my world is fiction here…where is here?”

“You’re on Earth, I’m not sure what your planet is called because I think Equestria is a country, right?” Scootaloo nodded, and I continued, “Well either way, you’re in a completely different reality. I mean, look at how you look compared to myself and everything that’s in this tent.”

She looked down at her own body, the body of a typical cartoon with an outline and very bright, optimistic colors that never belonged in a warzone except in times of great irony, and then looked at me, and then everything else. She nodded, “I see your point.”

Her ears went down and she let out a sigh, “So I guess getting home would be near impossible.” She whimpered.

I shrugged, “Well, if the Princess or Twilight finds you, maybe it won’t be.”

Scootaloo just kept looking down, so I decided to ask one more question that was bugging me since I first found her out in the alley, “How did you get here?”

Scootaloo smiled a little and let out a soft chuckle, “We were working on getting our cutie marks when Sweetie Belle decided to try out magic. Anyway, she decided to give simple teleportation a shot with me as her test subject, and…well…here I am I guess.”

I smiled, glad that she wasn’t as stressed out as she was before. Or if she was, she was doing a great job of masking it. God she reminded me so much of Amy, I could feel my heart warm when I saw the small pony as images of my daughter filled my mind. I let out a small chuckle when Scootaloo looked at me with irritation.

“Hey, why are you laughing? What’s so funny?”

“Nothing it’s just…you remind me of my daughter.” I manage to say.

Her irritated expression disappeared, replaced by a gentle smile and giggle, “Oh he-he, you have a daughter? What’s she like?”

Once those words came out of her muzzle, I froze and my own smile disappeared, putting me back into misery mode as the memory of that fateful day came back. The day when I was laying in the very cot I’m sitting in now, minding my own business when Captain Shore broke the horrid news to me.

“She…she was great.”

“Was?” Scootaloo asked when she noticed my expression and understood. She suddenly felt guilty and looked up at me with the same sad eyes she had when I first saw her, like my pain was her pain, “Oh, I’m so sorry Steve.”

I nodded, “It’s okay.”

But it wasn’t, it never would be. Until the day I died, cold and alone with no one by my side I would forever be haunted by that day.

Just then, the flap to the tent was pushed open and Charlie walked in with a smile on his face. Behind him were Brad and Davis, both of who had concerned looks on their faces.

“How is she?” Davis asked, pointing to Scootaloo as he walked further into the tent and closer to us.

“She’s fine.” I answered before I realized it was probably polite to ask her how she felt rather than put words into her mouth, “you’re all right, aren’t you?”

She nodded, “Yeah…I guess”

We all sat around and talked for a while, Brad telling Scootaloo how he was the team medic, or as he called himself, the “boo-boo soldier”. This only made Scootaloo glare at him and call him out for patronizing her like she was a little foal.

Davis was busy pacing back and forth, clearly bored. The guy was so A.D.D. that even a cartoon pony popping up in the middle of Afghanistan left him bored and craving something else to talk about. I just prayed that he’d never find himself on a mission that required him to remain hidden for hours on end. His inability to stay still for more than ten minutes would be his downfall.

Charlie just stood by and told Scootaloo everything about where she was, trying not to get into too much detail regarding the violence and bloodshed that often accompanied one’s stay in Afghanistan.

But even all of the sugarcoating and “skimping” in his descriptions couldn’t keep the young filly from shuddering in fear from the description of war that my friend had given her.

“But…how can that be? How is there such death and torment?”

“Welcome to our reality Scoots.” I said before I realized what I had called her. I suddenly got nervous as I waited to see how she’d respond to the nickname that I used without her permission.

“Did you just call me Scoots?”

“Yeah is…is that a problem?” I asked and she shook her head.

“No, not a problem. I just didn’t expect it.” She gave me a small smile, which I returned before petting her mane.

We all hung out for a little while more before Scootaloo let out a large yawn, showing how tired she was. We all decided to call it a night. Davis and Brad headed off to their tent, which was right next to ours, and Scootaloo fell asleep almost as soon as they left.

Each tent was about twenty feet by twenty feet, and they had enough at the base so there could be two men to a tent in some units, rather than large tents for entire units, where privacy didn’t exist. Our unit just happened to be lucky enough to have that luxury. Charlie walked over and threw himself onto his bed and kicked his shoes off.

“So, what are we gonna do with Scoots tomorrow?” Charlie asked, turning his head to me as he lay against his pillow.

I looked down at Scootaloo, who was sleeping by my side when I decided to answer, “I dunno, probably tell the captain about her being here?”

“Think that’s a good idea?”

“Do I have a choice?”

Charlie laughed and shook his head, “I guess you don’t.”

Charlie then reached into his shirt and pulled out his cross and began to say a little prayer. I sighed and lifted my own feet onto my bed and put my arm around Scootaloo so she was right by my right side. I was now in a white t-shirt and army shorts, thinking it would be inappropriate to go down to my underwear with Scootaloo sleeping by my side, but I also still wore my armband.

Yes, even with the real-life filly lying next to me I felt the need to wear the band. After all, it still reminded me of Amy.

Charlie did the sign of the cross and turned to me, “Hey Steve…”

I turned to look back at him as he gave me the sternest look you could imagine; “…you don’t have an excuse to play lone ranger anymore.”

“Why do you say that?”

He pointed to Scootaloo before pointing back up at me. He didn’t need to say anything else for me to understand what he was getting at. That I now did have something to live for, to protect Scootaloo at all costs. I would die to make sure Scootaloo got out of this world safely rather than by the hand of an armed insurgent. I nodded and Charlie gave me a small smile before he turned his light off and said “good night.”

I returned it and turned my own light off. As I lay back against my pillow my eyes fell on Scootaloo. I took note of how cute she was curled up next to me, sleeping like a little, orange angel. I smiled and closed my eyes, allowing sleep to take over.

******************************************************

I was at a park, watching Amy playing soccer for her club team while Carol cheered along side me. The sun beat down onto my face like never before, but it felt good. The world was vibrant, full of the most brilliantly lit colors, from the grass on the field to the sunlight that reflected off of Amy as she ran down with the ball before shooting.

Once the ball hit the back of the net, I jumped into the air with Carol and shouted, clapping my hands together like an idiot. What did I care? My daughter just scored a goal after beating two defenders; to hell what everyone else thought of my excessive cheering, I was thrilled with her effort and end result. As I continued to clap, I watched as she turned to me and gave me a small wave, a bright smile on her face as she jogged back to the center circle.

“Atta girl Amy!” I shouted, cupping my hands around my mouth to amplify what I said. I’m not sure my hands worked as a megaphone, but it’s instinct.

I turned to Carol and smiled at her as she turned back to me and gave me a big, bright smile of her own before we kissed each other in pride of our amazing daughter. We then looked out at the field just as the other team put the ball onto the center circle, the two forwards on the opposing team putting their hands on their hips as they waited for the referee to blow the whistle. But once he did, the sound that came out wasn’t that of an ordinary whistle.

It was much more forceful, almost violent and explosive.

I shook my head as I heard a voice, “Wake up! Please!”

I looked around for the source, but then I realized that my world was fading into a white void of nothingness. Amy, Carol, the soccer players, the referees, the other parents, the trees that bordered the field, hell the field itself, all disappeared. Only two things remained, the voice of a young girl telling me to wake up, and the sound of chaos and gunfire that echoed through the void around me.

**********************************************************

My eyes shot open to the sight of Scootaloo standing above me, her eyes wide in horror and her hooves on either side of my face. Apparently, she was trying to wake me up.

And then it hit me.

“BOOOMMM!!!”

I jolted at the sound of the explosion, almost knocking Scootaloo off of the bed, but she managed to stay on by snagging the sheets with her hooves. Once she regained her balance, she looked up at me, her violet eyes pleading.

“Hurry, get up!”

I looked at her in a panic when someone tossed me my MP5. I looked up to see that it was Charlie, who was grabbing his guns and pointing to the exit of the tent, a frantic look in his eyes.

“Come on man we’re under attack!”

I didn’t hesitate another second. I quickly got off of my cot and grabbed what I needed, which were only the weapons. I threw my guns over my shoulder, my gun having been equipped with a strap so I could carry other guns while still holding onto it.

I also snagged my camouflage shirt, planning to throw it on over my t-shirt later, and grabbed Scootaloo from my bed.

She looked up at me, her face the epitome of fright, “What’s going on!?!”

“The base is being attacked.” Charlie answered her question for me. "We need to join the others outside, now!"

I wrapped her in the blanket so only her head was showing and pressed her to my chest, protecting her the best I could. I neared the tent’s exit as Charlie held his gun up, “I’ll lead you to the truck so Scootaloo can get in, we need to get her out of the base”

I nodded and looked down at Scootaloo, who looked up at me with her scared eyes. Her size made it like I was holding a small child, around three years old. I looked deep into her eyes and said, “Listen, we will get you out of here safely, I promise you that.”

She nodded and buried her face into my chest. I sighed and looked up at Charlie and we both nodded to each other.

We exited the tent and entered the hellfire.

[A/N] I hope you enjoyed the first two chapters. Please let me know what you think about it so far in the comments.

Thanks for reading.

Go Giants!! Go Rainbow Dash!!!

The Battle

Chapter 3- Base Attack

Sorry for the long wait, I just started work and my energy has been drained and my time has been limited. Hope the wait didn't irritate you guys.

Once again, thank you RainbowDashEpicness for helping with the story. Also, I’d like to thank Fernin for helping me make this story more accurate with his story/dialogue ideas and advice on the military. I hope it is now somewhat accurate. Anyway, enjoy:?)

Once I opened the flap to the tent, I realized the hell-storm that had hit us.  It was still mostly dark out, the light that was present mostly came from weapons fire, and a few, large lights that were still working. I assumed one of the main generators had been hit with a mortar of some kind, which led to the near blackout conditions.

I couldn’t tell how the insurgents had gotten into the base, but their presence was all too noticeable, seen in the fire and explosions that rattled the small base.

“Jesus Christ.” I muttered as one of the insurgents exploded in an apparent suicide bombing, taking a few American soldiers with him. I looked down at Scootaloo, who was in my arms watching the whole thing play out. Even though it was hard to get a good look at her eyes as I was looking down onto her head, I could only imagine the terror that showed in them.

“Charlie, where are the others!?!” I shouted. Charlie looked around and pointed to a group of soldiers that were huddled behind a wall of sandbags.

“Over there! I can see Chris!”

Once I also saw Chris’ ginger hair, which was poking out from under his helmet, I nodded and then looked back at Charlie, “I’ll be there in a minute!”

With that, I quickly took Scootaloo over to a small bunker that was roughly fifteen feet from our tent. It was lined with sandbags and was about five feet underground, providing ample cover for anyone who wanted to shoot at the enemy from within.

I got in and put Scoots down in the corner. There were two soldiers, who were already inside the bunker. They looked at us with great shock, their eyes wide and mouths agape. Even with the chaos that surrounded, they couldn’t seem to take their attention off of the little, blanketed mare that I had just placed down.

I looked up at them, “Don’t you dare tell anyone about her, and don’t you let her get hurt!”

They both nodded before they snapped out of their momentary trance and got back to their job of shooting the enemy. Once I was sure she was as safe as she could possibly be, I stood up and looked down at her as she held the blanket around her.

“Stay here, and no matter what happens do NOT leave this bunker.” I ordered before I turned and began to make my exit from the shelter.

“Steve! Wait what are you doing!?! Steve!!!” Scootaloo cried out as I exited the bunker. Just by listening to her voice I could tell that she was crying, and that alone made me want to turn around and wrap my arms around her tightly. I wanted to be there to protect her, to fight off any evil that would come her way. But I couldn’t, at least not now.

I sprinted over to the wall of sandbags that the rest of my unit was positioned behind. Once I reached it, I crouched down next to Charlie, my rifle pointing over the sandbags, eyes scanning the landscape. Charlie looked down at me from where he was shooting.

“Is she in the tent?”

I shook my head. “No, in the bunker.” He nodded. I took a quick glance back at the bunker where I just left her. “She should be safe in there.”

“Let’s hope so.” He replied before he returned his focus to the battle.

I looked around to see Davis and Chris firing like mad, both using their hyperactive nature to their advantage to dish out as much pain as possible, at the enemy.

Next to them, Butch was much more sparing with his firing, only doing so when he was absolutely sure that he had a clear shot at one of the bastard’s head.

Brad was also firing his weapon, though he seemed keener on scanning the base for injured soldiers that he could help. The battle was too intense to risk exposure at the moment, but once the gunfire settled down he would have to find as many injured soldiers as possible.

Ben was also present and firing his rifle, but he was the quietest one of the group. He never did speak up much, even when he was shooting. The rest of us always swore and screamed like banshees, but he didn’t, he just did his job.

Captain Shore was shouting over a radio to the captains of other units.  He was cursing in frustration as his eyes scanned the base to see if there were any better vantage points for us to use.

Before I fired a shot, I glanced back over my shoulder to the bunker. I sighed and turned away, knowing that I needed to focus on the battle rather than Scootaloo.

But I cared about her too much to NOT be concerned for her.

“Clint! Rolle! Gomez! I want you three to get behind that vehicle! We need you to help out that group over there.” The Captain said, pointing to a truck where a few soldiers were huddled behind. Not only that, but it seemed like that group of men was getting the most attention from the insurgents, as the bastards kept trying to shoot at them.

Davis, Chris and I all nodded and turned to our right. The truck was about twenty feet away and we knew that it was vital that we cover as much ground as possible.

“Cover them!” The Captain shouted back to the others, who all were still in the middle of firing their weapons.

“You’ll need to hurry, otherwise the fuckers will see you!” Butch shouted without taking his eyes off of his target, which was an insurgent that was running over towards a truck. He had what appeared to be a trigger mechanism in his hand. Before he had the chance to detonate himself, Butch fired two rounds into the suicide bomber’s head, killing him before he hit the ground.

“You three go now! Give them cover!” Captain Shore shouted. On cue, Chris, Davis and I all sprinted over to the truck. It may have only been about twenty feet, but when you’re running for your life; the sound of bullets whizzing by your head, it seems like an eternity.

We were almost at the truck when I heard what sounded like a bullet hitting flesh, followed by a blood-curdling scream. Davis and I looked over to our left to see Chris fall over, eyes clenched shut and hand over his side. We both stopped and grabbed him by the shirt, pulling him as his legs helplessly dragged behind him.

Once we were almost behind the safety of the vehicle, a bullet hit the ground right by my foot. Once we got Chris behind the truck, Davis stood up and began to shoot in the direction that the bullet had come from.

Meanwhile, I quickly started to look Chris over. Blood was spreading over the left side of his torso. I wasn’t a medic, but it was clear that Chris had been shot right underneath his armpit. The round must have hit his lung because I could tell that he was having trouble breathing. Blood began to dribble out of his nose and mouth. His eyes were wide as each breath seemed like a war in itself. I quickly pressed my hands onto the wound to slow the bleeding, but it was clear that he needed Brad’s aid if he was going to make it.

“Davis!” I shouted as I continued to put pressure onto Chris’ side.

A few moments later Davis was back over with us. He knelt down beside me with a smile on his face.

“I got the bastard between the eyes.” He then looked down at Chris His smile faded and his eyes went wide once he saw the condition our friend was in. “Holy shit.”

“We need to get Brad over here, stat!” I said.

Davis nodded and turned in the direction of the others. He shouted Brad’s name and told him to get over to help Chris. I then made my way over to the other end of the truck, keeping my body low to the ground, until I had a great vantage point to fire from, while still remaining covered.

I saw a pick-up truck speed by with a group of insurgents on the back. It stopped in the center of the base, the men that were sitting on the bed of the vehicle hopped off and started to run off in different directions, screaming and firing at will. A few moments later, the pick-up itself detonated, sending shrapnel in every direction. I ducked behind the truck just as shrapnel whizzed by.

I then picked myself back up and crawled back to my previous position so that I could take aim at the insurgents, who were now being shot left and right. I was able to take down one of them about twenty feet away. I could hear gunfire and explosions all around me, but my focus was solely on the insurgents, and stopping them from continuing their rampage.

I heard some footsteps come up from behind me and turned around to see Brad skid to a stop right beside Chris. Once he was there, he immediately began to work on seal Chris’ wound long enough to get him proper help.

I turned away, not only to focus on my job but also to forget about Chris’ predicament. Lord knows I couldn’t keep thinking about that when my own life was on the line. I had a hard enough time doing so since I was still worried about Scootaloo.

I looked around to see that most of the insurgents were being pushed back or outright mowed down. I let out a sigh of relief, as it seemed the enemy was finally being subdued.

Once twenty minutes had passed without enemy fire, soldiers began to come out from their cover to start preparing for a possible second attack. But for now, the violence was over.

I let out a sigh and turned to see Brad still hunched over Chris’ limp body. Chris’ eyes were still open, but his face was pale, the only hint of red on his person was from his hair. I saw Captain Shore and the others run over to us.

Captain Shore got down to look over Chris, who was still on the ground, blood gushing out of him and his eyes were now half-closed and tired looking rather than screaming in pain.

“Private Gomez, look at me.” He commanded. Chris might have been out of it, but hearing his commander make an order still made him turn his head towards the source of the voice.

“Sir he needs medical attention, now!” Brad said with a tone of desperation.

“Then why don’t you give him some!?!” Captain Shore asked and Brad shook his head. “You have equipment, don’t you!?!”

“I do, but it isn’t enough! He needs more than I can give him; he needs to get to a hospital! Even then I’m not sure if he can be saved! He’s bleeding out too quickly, sir!” Brad ended that statement in a whisper, as if he wanted to hide the truth from the still somewhat conscious Chris.

Captain Shore grabbed his walkie-talkie and began asking for a MEDEVAC, either a ground vehicle or a helicopter, off of the base for Chris. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one to call for one, as the dispatcher on the other end told him a fleet of helicopters was heading over to pick up the wounded.

The rest of us would have to stay and prepare for the possibility of a second attack, but Chris needed immediate medical attention. This necessity for Chris to leave was solidified when I saw the medical tent ablaze about forty yards from where we were sitting behind the truck.

About ten minutes later, a group of medical helicopters appeared and stopped about fifty feet away, waiting for the injured to be brought to them. The sand around us began to blow as the choppers neared the ground. They normally wouldn’t land so close, but space on this tiny base was limited.

Brad, Charlie, Ben and myself all took hold of Chris and brought him over to the helicopter while Captain Shore, Butch and Davis ran alongside us, trying to reassure Chris as he began to fade out of consciousness.

“You’re here man, you’re going to be fine.” Ben said as we reached the bird.

“Don’t you…fucking…lie to…me.” Chris whispered.

“We aren’t lying, dude, you’ve got to have faith.” Charlie said as he gave Chris a reassuring pat on the shoulder. But even I could see the uncertainty in Charlie’s eyes. He knew Chris wasn’t in good shape, and even his kind words and prayers wouldn’t change a damn thing.

Once we helped Chris into the MEDEVAC, we gave him some reassuring good-byes and “stay strong” before the door shut on him. We then turned to the Captain, looked at us with the upmost seriousness.

“Men, we need to prepare for another attack. The suns coming up soon and I want every weapon primed for action."

"Wait, Captain. Do you really think there will be another attack? I mean, we made them look like idiots. Why would they want to risk their own lives against us after we fucked them up so handily the first time?" Butch asked.

"I don't know. But would you rather we stand around like fucking dumb-asses with our pants down? Private, don't question me, I'm above you. Remember that." Captain Shore growled and Butch bit his lip and looked away.

"Now then, as I was saying, I want fighting positions to be strengthened, and I want water, food and any other supplies you can get your hands on distributed. Understood?”

We all nodded and gave a “yes sir” before jogging off as the helicopter that held Chris, as well as a few other injured soldiers, lifted off the ground and flew away.

While the others went to a large tent to arm the vehicles, I decided to head back to the bunker to make sure Scootaloo was all right.

I told Charlie let the others know that I’d be right back once I checked up on her. He nodded and jogged over to help with the preparations. Sure the attack wasn’t definite, and we still weren’t sure if it would happen, but preparation was vital. It was better to be safe than sorry.

I walked over to the bunker. Thankfully, it was, for the most part, untouched. Only a few scattered bullet holes were embedded in the stone and sandbags.

When I got inside, I saw that the two soldiers from before were, once again, staring blankly at Scootaloo. Now that the distraction of the battle was over, they had all of their attention back on the small, scared looking cartoon filly that lay in the corner of the bunker with her hooves over her ears, her wet eyes closed, and the blanket almost completely covering her. Only her mane and eyes were clearly visible under the blue cloth. This little bit of her head, however, was bizarre enough to freak out the two men.

I thanked the two men and told them to head out, as well as keep quiet about Scootaloo’s presence. I wasn’t sure if that would be possible to keep them quiet, but it was worth a shot. They snapped out of their momentary trance and climbed out of the bunker to help the others.

I got down onto one knee and looked down at Scootaloo. I saw the glitter on her cheeks from her tears.

“Scoots?” I nervously asked.

She looked up from under the blanket with her big, violet eyes as if to prove to herself that I really was standing in front of her rather than just an illusion.

Once she confirmed my presence, she jumped towards me and slammed right into my stomach, nearly causing me to lose my balance. Her hooves wrapped around my abdomen as she cried into my chest.

Scootaloo looked up at me with her sad eyes as tears streamed out of them.

“I…was afraid…that you…were…going to…die.” Scootaloo said through her sobs.

“I’m not dead Scootaloo, I’m safe, see.” I began to pet her to prove my solidity, “I’m right here in one piece.” I muttered while I hugged her. She pressed her face into my shirt and continued to cry, that was one of the saddest things I’ve ever seen in my life.

“I was just so worried.” She said with a sniffle before she looked up at me, “When I heard those scary noises, they reminded me of what happened yesterday before you found me and...I heard the screams out there...it was too much for me.”

I grimaced, remembering the fright in her eyes when I first saw her, brought on by the bomb that had gone off in the village. She now had that same terrified look in her big eyes, and it broke my heart.

“Why did you leave me like that?” she whimpered.

“I couldn’t bring you out there with me, it was too dangerous.” I answered harshly. “And I’d never be able to live with myself if something happened to you.”

“But why did you go? Why couldn’t you stay with me in this place?” she rolled her head all around to indicate the bunker.

“It’s my job to fight.” I said before letting out a small sigh, “I don’t have a choice, I can’t ditch my fellow soldiers when they need me.”

Scootaloo let out a small, defeated sigh, “I guess I understand. But…I was still scared that…you wouldn’t come back and…I’d be stuck here alone.”

“Even if something did happen Scootaloo, Charlie would be there for you, as would Brad and Davis. You wouldn’t be alone, you’ll always have someone here for you.”

“But I want you to be there for me Steve.” She said with a small sniffle before she turned away from me. There was an awkward pause as we both sat in the misery-filled atmosphere of the bunker. I sighed and picked her up, re-wrapping her in the blanket that had since fallen off of her.

“Come on, let’s get you back to the tent.”

I carried her out of the bunker and brought her back to our tent, careful to not let anyone see her by covering her up with the blanket so only her face was visible. Also the fact that most soldiers were preoccupied with preparing for the possible second attack, and paid us no heed, helped us get back to the tent undetected.

Once we were back in the tent, I gently put her down onto the bed, took the blanket off of her, and sat beside her on the mattress. I then placed my hand onto her shoulder. She initially drew back and let out a startled hasp before she realized it was just my hand. She then relaxed a bit, but her face still showed sadness.

I felt terrible for leaving her alone like I did, but I wasn’t sure what else I could have done. After all, I needed to fight, and we couldn’t get her off of the base so I did the only thing I could, and that was keep her as far away from the battle as I could.

She finally spoke up, “You said your daughter was like me?”

I was a bit confused about this question, after all this really wasn’t the time to discuss my deceased daughter and her similarities to the orange filly in my arms. But then when I looked into her face, I knew Scoots brought it up to move on to a less depressing subject. Or what she saw as less depressed.

Sure, thinking about my daughter made me miserable, but it also made me feel good. Thinking about Amy’s smiling face always made me feel a mix of happiness and sadness.

Plus, talking with Scootaloo was almost exactly like talking to my daughter. The same innocent nature, and the same determined nature.

“Yeah, she was just like you.”

“Really? How?” She asked, suddenly more alert and less depressed, something that made me feel better.

“Well, she was a tomboy. She loved competition, and she looked up to women soccer players like you look up to Rainbow Dash…and she looked up to Rainbow Dash. She was like your human clone, except with brown hair instead of purple.”

Even if I wasn’t looking directly at her, I could tell that Scootaloo was smiling at being compared to my daughter. She also let out a small chuckle at the end when I mentioned how Amy looked up to Rainbow Dash, and she snorted at the comment I made about their hair color.

“He-he, yeah that’s me all right. It sounds like your daughter was pretty cool.” She said.

“Yeah, she was. You two would’ve been great friends,” I said before pointing to my armband, “Actually, she’s the one that gave me this as a way to remember her.”

Scootaloo looked back over to my right arm at the band that had her image on it. She suddenly looked embarrassed, yet flattered at the same time. Such is the expression of a celebrity who only recently discovered their fame.

“I still can’t believe I have my face on something like that. I’m not even on the Wonderbolts and I have things with my face on it!”

“What can I say, you’re famous here.” I said, which made her grin.

“That’s totally awesome.” She said it with some enthusiasm, but I couldn’t help but feel that given better and less-violent circumstances, Scoots would have been even more enthusiastic and happy about it.

There was another small silence. I knew that I would have to leave her again so I could help the others out, but part of me didn’t want to. Part of me wanted to help her feel better, or at least leave her on a high note.

That’s when it hit me.

“Hey Scoots, I was wondering if you could sing me the Cutie Mark Crusader theme song you did at the talent show.”

Scootaloo’s ears perked up at that suggestion.

“Really? You…you actually want to hear that?” She asked excitedly, which made me smile as I gave her a confirming nod. She then looked confused,  “But…but I’m not a good singer. I learned that the hard way, or do you want to hear me so you can laugh?”

Scootaloo looked down at that last statement, pawing her hooves on the floor sadly as she remembered that embarrassing night. Even though everypony thought they were doing a comedy skit and their reputations weren’t too damaged, it was still humiliating.

And yes, I knew that she wasn’t a great singer. Hell, she wasn’t even a halfway decent singer. But I had to get her mind off of everything from that morning, and getting her to sing about her and her friends seemed like the best option.

So I smiled reassuringly, “You’re not a terrible singer Scoots, and I’m not going to laugh at you. I just would like to hear you sing, that’s all.”

She blushed at the compliment. “R-Really?”

“Really.”

“Okay…” She cleared her throat and began.

“Look, here, are three little ponies

Ready to sing for this crowd

Listen up, 'cause here's our story

I'm gonna sing it…”

She suddenly stopped. I looked at her to see that she had a sad expression on her face. I suddenly realized that singing the song would remind her of her friends, the friends that she was so far away from, and would make here realize how much she missed them.

I needed to help her, but I wasn’t exactly sure what to do. Suddenly, I did the first thing that popped into my head.

I continued to sing the song from memory.

“When you're a younger pony

And your flank is very bare…”

Scootaloo looked up at me and gave me a weak smile, which I returned.

I know it must have been an odd sight. After all, most soldiers didn’t break out into song unless it was rap or rock music. Not that I cared, though. Hell, I’d throw on a dress if it were the only way to cheer her up. That’s the impact her sad face had on me.

Scootaloo seemed to brighten up. I think that she was still upset, but she seemed determined to continue singing. Perhaps to feel like her friends weren’t worlds away; that she was singing with them.

“Feels like the sun will never come

When your cutie mark's not there

So the three of us will fight the fight

There is nothing that we fear

We'll have to figure out what we'll do next.”

Even though her pitch was VERY off, I enjoyed listening to her sing. It wasn’t ever day I had the chance to sing with a pony that reminded me of my daughter, let alone in Afghanistan.

As we continued to sing, I knew that her mind was no longer on the attack from that morning. I was relieved to know that she wasn’t as upset as she had been when I first got back into the tent. Not only that, but the innocence and fun nature of the song was just the pick-me up I needed. I always assumed that was why songs from “My Little Pony” made me feel better, because of their upbeat style.

We both continued to sing, with much more emotion and power, to the point where we were both almost screaming out the lyrics. Scootaloo put more and more energy into each note; it looked like she was attempting to impersonate Joan Jett.

Except, of course, Joan Jett had a great voice, and Scootaloo didn’t.

Eventually we reached the end of the song. As those songs have helped me deal with the terrors of war before, it did this time as well.

Just then we heard someone enter the tent. Scoots and I turned to see Charlie and Davis walk in.

“Dude, is everything all right?  I could’ve sworn I heard a couple of cats dying.” Charlie said, looking around for the missing cats.

I shot Charlie a glare, which made him raise his hands in confusion. I turned to Scootaloo, who was giving Charlie a look that showed how insulted she was.

“Funny, I thought I smelled a dead cat when you showed up.” Scootaloo said to Charlie, which shocked all three of us. I didn’t really expect Scootaloo to have such a quick comeback, but that didn’t stop me from laughing like an idiot. Charlie turned a deep shade of red after being told off by the young pony.

“Very funny.” Charlie said while Scootaloo just gave him a big smile, almost like she was trolling him.

“Listen Steve, I’ll watch Scootaloo for you if you want to head out there.” Davis said, pointing over his shoulder towards the exit of the tent.

“You sure?” I asked and Davis nodded.

I looked back down at Scootaloo, who seemed to have a little bit of sadness in her eyes at hearing that I’d be leaving.

“Scoots, I’ll be back in a little bit, I just need to help the others outside.”

She seemed upset that I had to leave her again so I got down onto one knee and put my hand under her chin so I could look her in the eyes. “I’ll be fine.”

Scootaloo didn’t say anything before she gave me a small nod. I leaned over and gave her a quick hug and kissed her head, earning a small smile from her.

Again, I’m not sure what she thought about my fatherly affections for her, but every time I saw her I was reminded of Amy, and I couldn’t help myself. When I broke the hug, she gave be a small smile, which made me feel less awkward about the sudden father-daughter relationship I had with her.

It truly was just like Amy was right here with me.

I turned and walked out of the tent with Charlie, leaving Davis and Scootaloo alone. As we headed over to the arsenal tent, Charlie turned to me, “You do realize your fatherhood is showing right?”

I sighed, “What am I supposed to do? Even before I met Scootaloo she reminded me of Amy. Now that she’s here, I can’t stop seeing her as my own daughter.”

“I feel you man. I know if I met a kid that reminded me of my nephew, I’d feel the same way.” Charlie said, as he didn’t have kids of his own and his nephew was the closest thing he had to a son.

Charlie put a hand onto my shoulder and looked my in the eyes, “And we’ll get her out of this mess safely. I promise you that.”

“Let’s hope that keeping that promise is possible.” I said as we reached Butch and Ben, who were busy equipping and arming vehicles and weapons. Brad and Captain Shore were elsewhere, helping retrieve injured soldiers and determining whether or not they could be treated on the base or if they needed more extreme treatment methods. Other soldiers were busy re-enforcing fighting positions for future defense.

Ben handed a large box full of ammunition to Butch before he turned to Charlie and me. Butch also turned to us with a very serious look on his face.

“Well, well, well. The king has finally arrived to help the “commoners”.” Butch snarled, clearly agitated by my absence.

“Where the hell did you go Steve?” Ben asked as he walked over, wiping his hands off on his pants to get the dust off.

“Checking our tent.” I answered. “Making sure no damage was done to it.”

“That’s very professional,” Butch sneered. “Checking your personal shit when there’s a threat of another attack on this base. Truly a shining example of the U.S. Armed forces.”

“Butch shut the fuck up. Like you didn’t take a break from your job to look at your reflection not a moment ago.” Ben spat back. For being the quietest member of the group, he always seemed to lock horns with Butch, maybe because they both took their jobs so seriously, but in different ways.

“I can’t help it that I’m sexy.” Butch said with a wink.

“Whatever.” Ben pointed at me with a very serious look, “Steve, don’t let the Captain find out you ditched us for such a trivial reason.”

“Yeah.” Butch said as he placed the box onto the back of a truck, where other soldiers started to grab the weapons. Butch picked up an M4 and held it up, “If he finds out, you’ll wind up with one of these baby’s up your ass.”

He let out a laugh. Classic Butch, even after a battle he still was his smart-ass self.

“He won’t know,” I hissed. “Besides, it was more than that. I actually had to check something important.”

“More important than helping us out after an attack?” Butch asked. “We can’t afford anyone sitting out. Where’s Davis?”

“He’s busy.” I spat back.

“Oh for the love of Christ.” Butch groaned as he got back to his work.

“Can’t you guys be productive and actually help us out? It’s hard enough that we’re one man short now that Chris is out.” Ben added as he walked over to another box and began to take out shells to re-load the gun on one of the IFVs.

I sighed and started to walk over to help out, but one thought now was running through my mind.

"How and when am I going to reveal Scootaloo”

I knew that I had to tell at least those who were in my unit about her. It wouldn’t take long for one of the soldiers that saw her to tell others, especially those two in the bunker. But how and when I was going to do so was still a question I had yet to answer. Even though the battle had ended, for the time being, I still felt anxious as these thought flooded my head.

For the rest of the morning I helped the others prepare everything from trucks to weapons for battle. The sun began to radiate off of the back of my neck as the time neared noon. Or at least I think it was almost noon. In my mad scramble that morning I left my watch in my tent. Not much point in keeping time during a fight. Especially when twenty minutes seems like twenty hours.

“So a VBIED was how they got through the gate?” Charlie asked and Ben nodded.

“Yeah, what are you blind? We were right by the destroyed gate when we were shooting at the fuckers. Didn’t you notice the big van that was turned into a God-damned fireball?” Butch hissed.

“No, I couldn’t see it around your fat, fucking head.” Charlie growled. Butch smiled and shook his head.

“What an original comeback. Next time, why don’t you just say you were blinded by my greatness?” Butch held his hands out with an arrogant gleam in his eyes. “That would be a valid excuse after all.”

“I was blinded by your Texas-sized ego.”

Butch shot Charlie a look. “Fuck you Catholic boy.”

“I’ll pray for you.” Charlie said with a mocking laugh, which only made Butch angrier.

“Shut up before I shove that cross you wear up your ass.” Butch pointed to the necklace Charlie was wearing, but Charlie was laughing too hard to notice.

Butch then walked off. Ben punched Charlie in the shoulder. When Charlie looked at him, Ben shook his head disapprovingly.

Because the base was smaller in size, the entrance gate, where vehicle checks took place, wasn’t too far away from the main base. In fact, as soon as the gate was entered, one would be on the base. Once it was destroyed, a swarm of insurgents flooded the camp. Butch and Ben said how even before Charlie and I got outside, several of the cars that the insurgents rode into the base were already used as VBIEDs and were detonated.

The reason that there was so much paranoia about a second attack was because of the lack of knowledge of this attack. No source of Intel gave us any indication about it happening. We were caught with our pants down, so to speak. Now everyone on the base was worried about the possibility of another wave of insurgents attacking us later in the day.

Even if it proved for naught, we had to be prepared for the worst.

Once we were done prepping weapons and vehicles, I told Charlie that I was heading back to the tent to see how Scootaloo was doing. He nodded and told me that he’d come up with an excuse if Captain Shore asked for me.

I walked back over to the tent and entered to see Scootaloo sleeping on the bed. Davis was sitting next to her, looking over his gun as if he were trying to spot anything that could cause it to malfunction at the wrong moment.

“Davis, how is she doing?” I asked. Davis looked up from his gun and gave me a nod.

“She’s fine. A bit tired, though. She fell asleep about an hour after you left. Before that she kept asking about you, asking if you were going to come back and if you were in danger. She really cares about you man.”

I smiled, “I know.”

I thanked Davis and he left. I walked over to the bed and sat down next to Scootaloo. As I watched her sleep, I had a sudden flashback to my last night with Amy. The night before I was deployed and would have to say good-bye to her forever.

***********************************************

“Come on sweetie, it’s almost mid-night.” I said as Amy sleepily leaned against a pillow at the other end of the couch. Her eyes were starting to close while she watched television. We were both trying to spend as much time together as possible before going to bed since I was heading out to Afghanistan the next morning.

Amy argued earlier that day with Carol about staying up later. She reluctantly agreed and, just like that, Amy and I spent the entire night watching late-night television, including two episodes of “My Little Pony”, which included “The Show Stoppers” and “Sonic Rainboom”, which we were in the middle of watching.

“Come on Dad, can’t I stay up for a few more minutes? I can’t go to bed without seeing Rainbow Dash pull off a sonic rainboom.” She asked with the closest thing to puppy-dog eyes a young girl could give.

I nodded, “All right, but once this episode is over it’s off to bed. No “ifs”, “ands” or “buts”, got it? ”

She grinned, eyes still showing her sleepiness, before she turned back to the television and continued to watch the ending of the episode. It’s not like I wanted to go to bed either. If I had the choice I’d stay up all night with Amy. Unfortunately, our eyes were getting heavy and it was becoming a battle in itself to keep us awake. Only when Rainbow Dash pulled off her feat and the living room illuminated in a brilliant spectrum of colors, did both of our eyes shoot open and our tiredness leave.

I could see Amy grin as she watched Rainbow Dash save Rarity, win the young flier’s competition, and meet the Wonderbolts before breaking out into her fan-girl “omygoshohmygoshohmygosh!!!” moment.

Amy was beaming as she watched her favorite character make such an accomplishment, and I couldn’t help but smile as well. Eventually, the episode ended and I turned off the television.

“Time for bed.” I said. Amy turned and gave me a pleading look and I just shook my head, “no excuses. You need your sleep.”

“I’ll just take a nap tomorrow like RD does.”

I laughed and turned the television off, “You can take a nap tomorrow Scoots…” I looked at her with a smile that showed I was teasing her, which made her pout and look away from me, her arms crossed in defiance against the nickname. I then finished my statement, “…but you still need to sleep tonight.”

Amy rolled her eyes and pushed herself up off of the couch. I walked up the stairs to Amy’s room, passing Carol as she lay in our bed watching the local news. She gave me a smile as I passed by the open door.

Once I got into Amy’s room, I walked over and pulled down the covers. She slid into the bed and then she reached up and gave me a big hug, which I returned.

“Get some sleep Amy.” I muttered as I leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. I stood up and started to walk out of the room when she called out to me.

“Dad wait!”

I stopped and turned around to look at Amy. I smiled, “Yeah?”

“As I was watching that cutie mark crusader episode I was wondering…where are Scootaloo’s parents?”

I was about to answer when I stopped myself, realizing that even I didn’t know. I shrugged, “Couldn’t tell you, but Apple Bloom doesn’t have any parents in the show either, at least none we know about.”

“But she has a family.” Amy muttered, “Scootaloo doesn’t have any family. She doesn’t have anybody.”

“She might, maybe the writers just haven’t put them into the show yet.”

Amy nodded.

“I hope you’re right.” She let out a sigh, “If she doesn’t, I really feel bad for her.”

“I’m sure she’s fine, she’s only a cartoon character after all.” I said half-heartedly. After all, this was before she was anything more than a cartoon character.

With that I shut off the lights and smiled, “Good night Scoots.”

Amy surprisingly didn’t seem annoyed by her nickname that time and simply smiled, “Good night Dad.”

With that, I turned and left her room, gently closing the door behind myself.

***********************************************

I snapped myself out of my daydream when I felt something moving under my hand. I looked down to see Scootaloo waking up. She looked up at me, circles under her eyes and smiled, “Hey Steve, you’re back.”

“Of course I am.” I answered with a smile. I scratched her on the head and she chuckled. Just then, as I looked into the little filly’s face, I remembered the question that Amy asked me.

“Where are Scootaloo’s parents?”

I swallowed and my mind had a quick fight over whether to ask her the extremely personal question or not. Such a question could upset her, or not. I could ask it, or just let it go and have her tell me when she felt the time was right. In the end, my curiosity overrode my common sense.

“Hey Scoots?” I asked. She looked up at me with an expectant smile. I bit my lip anxiously, hoping my question wouldn’t cause her to become upset again. After all, seeing her tears flowing that morning made me fell like I had just stabbed somebody right in front of her.

I bit the bullet and finally managed to ask, “Can you…what…what are your parents like?”

When I saw her smile fall and her eyes go from happy to mournful and sad before she turned away from me. When I saw two teardrops land onto the bed below Scootaloo’s face, and heard a small sniffle. I mentally punched myself.

“God-damn it Steve.”

Coming Clean

Chapter 4: Coming Clean

I’m an ass-hole. There’s no other word to properly describe me after I asked Scootaloo such a question. I should have gone with my gut and ignored my curiosity. But, like so many other people, I caved into temptation and asked the question. A question that I should have known was extremely personal.

Now, the little filly was silently crying. She didn’t let out loud sobs, she hardly even whimpered, but the small teardrops that ran down her face and falling onto the linen of the bed made her sadness all too clear, and I was the cause of it.

She was finally in a good mood after the hell she had been through that morning, and now she was back to being depressed, something I had hoped to avoid. “Listen, Scootaloo, if you don’t want to...”

She shook her head, “No I...I’ll tell you.”

“Are you sure? “

She nodded and gave me a small sigh, "It's only fair that you know."

She started her story, “When I was really young, I had a normal life, normal parents, you know...the life a typical foal has.” I nodded before she continued, “My father was in the Royal Guard of Canterlot...”

“You lived in Canterlot?”

Scootaloo nodded, “For a few years, yes. Actually, I was born there.”

Okay, this was news to me.

She chuckled at the memory, "It was like living in a city full of Diamond Tiaras and Silver Spoons, I hated it."

No matter how head scratching this information was, I still listened, eager to learn what happened to Scootaloo’s parents that make her so upset to think about. She seemed to be saddened by continuing the story, her eyes looking anywhere and everywhere but at me. I was about to cut in, to tell her that she really didn’t have to tell me. But before I could do that, she pressed on.

“My father was one of the ponies in charge of Princess Celestia’s safety, you know, protecting her from attempts on her life and whatnot.”

I could feel my jaw drop at hearing that, Equestria, the land of peace that only an animated world could have, has had a history of assassination attempts on Princess Celestia’s life.

“Have ponies tried to kill her?” I asked.

Scootaloo shook her head, still not looking at me. “It’s rare for anyone to attack the Princess, and when someone does, it usually isn’t a pony. Most of us love the Princess. It’s other species that want to run Equestria, like Griffons. But, there have been times that ponies have tried to kill her.”

I nodded, somewhat relieved to hear that such attacks and threats were rare, as I assumed they'd be.

“Anyway,” Scootaloo said in a way that indicated how she was about to get into a more personal part of the story. “One day my father and some other guards were outside of the Princess’ Castle as she made her way to her carriage when a unicorn made a lunge at her and used his magic to attack her.”

She stopped and sniffled a little before she managed to continue, “My father took the blast square to the chest and...and...”

She didn’t even have to say the fate of her father to let me know what happened to him, her face said it all. The sadness and longing, it was the same face I've often seen in the mirror whenever I think about my family, the expression of loss.

“I’m...I’m so sorry Scoots.”

Scootaloo looked down and shook her head, “Don’t be, it’s not like you had anything to do with it. I didn’t even know you back then.”

My next question was much more hesitant, but I felt that since she already told me about her father, I had to know.

“What about your mom? How did she handle it?”

She let out a small, sad sigh that would make the most hardened man’s heart break, and swallowed hard. It took her a few seconds to respond, each breath she took seemed like a conscious effort to keep the tears from spilling all over the bed. Eventually, she told me about her mother.

“She was worse than me,” she whispered, “to her the world ended the day we saw the doctors pull the bed-sheets over my father’s corpse in the hospital.”

*********************

“Mommy? Are you okay?” Scootaloo, about two to three years younger, asked her mother, Glidespark, who was a white Pegasus with a flowing mane that was the same color as her daughter’s, as well as a pair of eyes to match. Her cutie-mark was a pair of wings joined in front of a four-sided, yellow spark.

Even though Scootaloo was younger, she didn’t look much different than she did currently, just a little smaller.

Glidespark just stared at the wall ahead of her as she sat in the chair. Her eyes were hollow, showing no sign of life or happiness, as if all of her joy had been washed away after her husband’s death.

“Come on Mom, you have to eat something.” Scootaloo said as she pushed a bowl of salad closer to Glidespark, who lifted her head slightly, pointing it away from the bowl of food that her daughter was trying to get her to eat. Scootaloo looked up at her mother with pleading eyes, “Please Mom.”

“Just go to school Scootaloo.” Glidespark muttered without a hint of emotion, but it was clear she was sad. She was so sad that her emotions had dried out and she could no longer express them.

She sighed and hopped away from the table before trotting over to the front door. She put her hoof onto the knob and turned it. Once the door was opened slightly, she turned back to Glidespark.

“I’ll see you later.” She said at a volume just above a whisper. She didn’t want to go to flight school and leave her mother again, like she did every day since her father died. She wanted to stay there, to take care of her, like she was the mother and Glidespark was her daughter, when it was really the other way around.

Glidespark didn’t even acknowledge her daughter with eye contact; apparently she was just too fascinated by the nothingness of the white wall in front of her. Scootaloo looked sadly at the ground before she trotted off to flight school, to see all the happy ponies that had both of their parents to take care of them, to pick them up when they were down. To see what she had lost.

****************************

“She lost the will to live. Slowly she withered away until about four months after my father’s death. That’s when she fell ill and died. I was by her bed and watched her take her last breath.”

I can’t lie; that story really tugged at my heartstrings. Not only was it sad to hear about Scootaloo’s parents and their fate, but also her mother’s reaction to her father’s death got to me. Would Carol have acted like that if I came back in a body bag and they were still alive? Would she ignore Amy and the entire world until she starved herself of life? Just then I realized that Scoots was even more like Amy than I initially thought.

“Jesus Christ.” I whispered, not really caring if Scootaloo heard it. To her, it probably was confusing rather than a swear word. I turned back to her, “So wait, if your parents are...”

I couldn’t say dead, I just couldn’t. All I could do was motion my hand around to indicate what I meant until she nodded, as if to confirm that she understood what I was getting at.

“...who do you live with now?”

“My aunt.” She said through gritted teeth. I was slightly taken aback by her change in tone. She went from being miserable, to being some strange mix of miserable and pissed off at the same time.

“At least you’re not on your own.” I said, trying to ease her rage.

“I wish I was.” She growled, “She doesn’t love me. Heck, she doesn’t even care about me. All she does is ignore me until she’s mad about something, and then she goes on and on about my faults to make herself feel better. All she ever does is make me feel like trash.”

“You don’t seem to have any faults Scoots.” I said in an attempt to comfort her, though I wasn't really lying. To me, she seemed like a normal filly, minus the cutie mark of course. However, she saw herself differently.

She looked up at me like I just said the most ridiculous thing imaginable. Seriously, I might as well have told her the sky was green. I guarantee she would have given me the same look she did at this moment; it was full of disbelief and scorn.

“Really?” she said with a hint of anger in her voice. She stood up and pressed on, “I don’t have a cutie mark, I can’t fly; I don’t have any parents, brothers or sisters...I’m...”

Her lip began to quiver and, even if her tear filled eyes showed defiance against what I just said, all of her “tough-girl” act couldn’t hide her true sadness.

“...I’m nothing but a failure.” With that, she sat back down onto the bed and looked down, avoiding eye contact with me as her attitude made the cyclical transition back to miserable from defiant sadness.

“What are you talking about, you aren’t a failure. Not at all.”

“Yes I am.” She whispered harshly, “I can’t do anything right, especially things I should be able to do, like fly.”

She finished her statement with a quick and firm slam of her hoof against the mattress of the cot before she relaxed herself.

“What about riding a scooter, you seem pretty good at that.” I said, trying everything I could to reassure her, but I wasn't confidant that it would work. “And you’re really a great friend to Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom, and they both care about you a lot.”

“Yeah but still. I’m a Pegasus! I should know how to fly by now!” she said, finally looking up at me. “And I should have a cutie mark.”

She looked back at her flank that was, of course, blank as a whiteboard. She sighed and looked back down at her hooves in disappointment.

“But you’re friends don’t have theirs’ either.” I said, “and so what if you don’t have one yet, you’ll get it eventually, along with your friends, and it’ll be that much more special since you got them together.”

She nodded, “That’s true, I guess.”

I put my hand onto her back and brought her in close like I used to do with Amy when she was upset, so that she could cry against my shirt. She always told me how it made her feel less alone when she was the most vulnerable, so I would always do it for her. Scootaloo wasn’t crying much anymore, but she was still sad, and even though she didn’t have any tears to wipe off on my shirt, she still pressed her head against my side and hugged me around the waist with her two front hooves.

I began to pet her in a father-like manner while she continued to sit by my side. Even through everything that I’ve seen, the death on the battlefield and the horrors of being in Afghanistan, nothing really hit home until today. Never, since I got the news about my family being taken from me, have I felt the sorrow I felt now. The only thing that kept me from crying was Scootaloo sitting next to me. I had to be strong for her; I had to be there for her, like how I should have been there for Carol and Amy, even if it was just to say good-bye.

We stayed like that for a little while until I heard voices coming closer to the tent. Before my mind could register that I should hide Scootaloo, it was too late as five of the personnel from our unit entered our tent. Once I saw their faces, my heart froze. It wasn’t just Charlie, Davis and Brad this time. It was Ben and Butch, both of whom looked directly at me.

Their faces weren’t showing shock; instead they were showing a mix of curiosity, as well as anger. The anger part however, was mostly coming from Butch, and the beet-red face he got when he assumed some role of dominance or leadership that he, in no way, has earned.

Without taking his cold eyes off of me, he pointed at Scootaloo, “How long did you honestly think you could keep this a secret?”

Scootaloo looked up at him and seemed to back off a little in fright. Can’t say I blamed her. Butch, when in his confrontational moods, could scare the shit out of most of us.

“Hello! Earth to Steve!” he shouted, his hands cupped around his mouth like a megaphone. “Do you realize it’s against orders to have an animal on the base?”

“Hey? Who are you calling an animal?” Scootaloo said, taking a step forward to the edge of the bed, her eyes in a scowl. “I bet I’m smarter than you.”

Butch just stared. Apparently, he didn’t expect Scootaloo to talk. Sure a cartoon pony is one thing, but a TALKING cartoon pony was...well, only slightly more odd, as a cartoon pony was still EXTREMELY ODD.

“Holy cow it talks.” Ben said in amazement as he took a step forward, his eyes wide like those of an excited child. “Hey there little one, what’s your name?”

“Scootaloo.” She grumbled. “And don’t talk to me like I’m a newborn foal.”

“Awww, I know you’re not a foal.” Ben said in an even more patronizing tone. “You’re clearly a big pony aren’t you?”

Okay, even I had to admit Ben sounded like a jerk when he talked to Scootaloo like that. I know he wasn’t trying to be, and the cuteness factor of Scootaloo was having its effect on him, but he still came across as a patronizing ass. I swear, he might have well added literal baby talk like "ga-ga" and "goo-goo" to complete the condescending.

The orange filly growled a little at Ben, which seemed to snap Ben out of his “baby mode” and into reality, a reality that included a pissed of pony.

Ben suddenly threw up his hands defensively, “Okay, okay, Jesus I’m sorry. I’m used to talking like that with my kids, they’re both really young.”

“Doesn’t excuse you for talking to me like I’m a stupid baby.” Scootaloo mumbled.

"Once again, I'm sorry you just reminded me of my kids." Ben said with some true remorse before he looked up at everyone else, from me to Charlie, from Davis to Brad, before he spoke, “Seriously guys, she can’t be here.”

“And where the fuck do you propose we take her?” Davis asked.

“We show her to the Captain.” Butch snapped back almost immediately.

“What then? What will he do with her, ship her off to some undisclosed government location where she’ll be kept safe?” Brad asked, putting his fingers up to give mock quotation marks to “safe”.

Butch turned to him, “Hey, medic boy, why don’t you tape a piece of gauze to your mouth and shut the fuck up?”

“How about I cover your whole fucking face in gauze so your narcissism won’t get in the way while we’re fighting. It could save lives.” Brad shot back, which made Scootaloo giggle. Brad looked at Scootaloo and gave her a small, friendly wink and smile before glaring back up at Butch.

Amazing, it only took two minutes for Butch to reveal himself as a narcissistic asshole to Scootaloo. He was always the reliable jerk of the group.

“No matter what you say, it doesn’t change the fact that we need to tell the Captain about her.” Butch hissed, earning a growl from Scootaloo, which would have been amusing had the situation not been so serious.

“Wait, how did you know about her anyway?” I decided to ask.

Thankfully, I got Ben to answer instead of Mister Hothead Butch.

“Two soldiers were running around, blathering how they both saw a cartoon pony and you.” He pointed at me, “drop her off in the bunker with them at the start of the breach.”

I sighed and shook my head, “So much for not telling anyone.”

“What was I supposed to do, leave her in the tent or bring her out with me? Both of those were too dangerous...” I started; only to have Butch cut me off with a stern look and the accusing finger of a scornful authority figure.

“Don’t you make excuses Clint, you should’ve told us and the Captain.”

“Ugh, can you guys please stop arguing?” Scootaloo interrupted, which surprised us. We all looked at her as she rubbed her forehead with her hoof, her eyes closed, and forehead scrunched in irritation, “it’s really starting to get annoying.”

She then lowered her hoof from her head and pointed it at Butch, “Look, if I go with you to meet this “captain” guy you keep mentioning, will you stop being a jerk?”

Okay, I admit, I had to stifle a laugh at this point, both from Scootaloo’s stern attitude towards Butch, as well as Butch’s red face. I wasn’t sure if he was angry at the little filly, or embarrassed at being told off by a cartoon pony that was roughly the equivalent of a twelve-year old girl while he was a hardened 34-year old soldier that always took pride in the fact that he wasn’t a pushover.

He slowly nodded and started to back towards the flap. “Okay, the little princess wants to meet the captain? Fine, I can arrange that.”

“Please don’t call me Princess,” Scootaloo hissed. “I’m not Diamond Tiara.”

Butch now just looked confused, “Who the fuck is Diamond Tiara?”

“Trust me, it’s better that you don’t know.” Scootaloo said with a shudder as she, I assume, imagined the prissy, elitist filly that she went to school with.

Butch rolled his eyes, “Okay, that’s enough. Guys, let’s go get the cap...”

Butch was interrupted. But it wasn’t by the annoyed Scootaloo or any of us in the tent.

It was by the sound of an explosion outside. We all turned towards the flap, I could see Scootaloo curl back in fear, her annoyed face replaced by a revived fear.

BOOM!!!!!

A second explosion sounded outside, this time closer than the last. Scootaloo was so scared by the close proximity that she seemed to jump in mid-air on the bed. But it wasn’t only her, almost all of us in the room either jumped in fright at the sound of the second explosion

“What is that!?!” She shouted. “Are we being attacked again!?!”

I swallowed hard, “Yes.”

This time, I knew that she would have to come with me, and hiding her any longer was impractical. I quickly wrapped Scootaloo up in the blanket and picked her up to my chest and held her close, “Keep your head down until I tell you we’re safe.”

Scootaloo didn’t need to be told twice as she nodded and pressed her head against my chest like it was an inpenetrable shield. She didn’t say anything, but I could tell by her shaking that she was frightened.

“What do we do!?!” Brad shouted.

“What do you think, we get to the Captain and fight!” Charlie answered just as another explosion sounded, this time the proximity was even closer than the last one, sending a jolt of fright through everyone that was in the tent.

“Where is the Captain!?!” Davis shouted back.

“Out by the supplies tent, at least I hope he is! That’s where we saw him last.” Ben shouted as he motioned for us to follow him outside.

“You know we’d still be with the captain if you were with us you ass-hole.” Butch hissed in my direction, only to be grabbed by the collar by Ben and dragged out of the tent. Davis seemed to have successfully pumped himself up for battle and sprinted out of the tent. Brad seemed somewhat nervous, but nonetheless exited as well. Charlie grabbed the cross that dangled from his neck, gave it a kiss for good luck and ran out.

With Scootaloo in my arms, I made my way out of the tent with the rest of the group. I made sure that I kept Scootaloo’s face against my chest. She’s already seen way too much, and it was my duty to protect her innocence as long as I could, hopefully until Princess Celestia or Twilight or somepony would come and take her back home.

Before I exited the tent, I had set some expectations about the battle, and how chaotic it would be. I predicted it would be a bigger, and more violent attack than the one this morning. I braced myself for the worst as I burst through the opening and right into the battle.

[A/N] Once again, I hope you enjoyed that last chapter. Sorry for the slow updates, I'm sort of writing this as I go along so it might take a while to get done. I have an idea as to where I want to take this story, but getting there is challenging. I'd like to thank RainbowDashEpicness and Fernin for helping me with this chapter again.

And thank you all for reading. :)

The Second Attack

Chapter 5: Second Attack

As soon as I ran outside and didn’t see the bright, sunny sky above me, I knew that we were in for it.

Never in my life had I seen such ferocity and turmoil as I did the moment right after leaving the safety of the tent. The sky was grey with smoke; vehicles blazed in the still hot as hell air. A swarm of insurgents were flooding into the base, firing without remorse at soldiers who were scrambling to find cover.

The large attack siren that had been placed at the far end of the camp was no longer standing. I could see that the top half was folded over and resting on the ground, still slightly attached to the bottom-half of the pole.

“That’s why there was no warning.” I muttered to myself, imagining a projectile missile being launched at it from a distance before the attack. Unrealistic, but it was the only explanation I could come up with on the spot.

I could feel Scootaloo shivering in my arms as she looked around, slowly taking in everything around her, from the blood to the fire to the sounds of guns and explosives. I was about to ask her if she was okay when I felt someone slap me on the shoulder.

I turned to my right to see Charlie look at me with the utmost urgency in his eyes.

“We need to get to the bunker!” Charlie shouted as if I didn’t know that already. Then again, I hadn’t moved from the spot I was in for half a minute. It was a miracle I wasn’t hit.

Charlie started to run off with the others, motioning for me to follow him towards the bunker.

I snapped myself out of my mental state of shock and followed, bringing Scootaloo closer to my chest to protect her, much like I did to Amy after she broke her collarbone after rolling off our bed.

As I ran to catch up with the others, who were already almost at the bunker, except for Davis and Charlie, I had tunnel vision. I blocked out the surrounding pandemonium and put all of my focus towards getting Scoots and I into the safety of the bunker.

“Why didn’t the sirens go off?” Davis shouted as I finally managed to reach him and Charlie.

“The tower’s broken.” I pointed to the fallen pole and Davis shouted an expletive before firing at some more insurgents. I could see that Butch, Brad and Ben, who most likely noticed our absence, were now coming back towards us.

“Hurry up you fucking slugs we need to get some shelter, now!” Butch screamed angrily.

“You don’t think the God-damned fire and explosions weren’t enough to tell us that!?!” I shouted back, my voice cracking slightly from my nerves.

Suddenly, I heard a little, scared voice come out from within the blanket that was in my arms, “Why…why are there so many of them?”

I was about to answer but, as my vision cleared and I was able to see how many more insurgents breached our camp this time around, I realized that I didn’t have an answer. This was an unorthodox amount of insurgents to say the least. Hell, it was downright suspicious.

They were even taking down some of the air support we managed to get sent to us after this morning’s attack. Even if the helicopters did manage to take down a good number of the bastards, it only took a few seconds for a few others to take their place and launch a projectile missile at aircraft. Then it was only a matter of seconds before the helicopter burst into a brilliant display of orange fell to the ground in a heap of fire, smoke and warped, blackened metal.

This was improbable. Never have I heard of such an attack on an American base. Knowing as little as I did, not to mention being confused as fuck, I answered Scootaloo in the only way that I could.

“I don’t know.”

As soon as the words left me lips, I heard a loud “bang” to my left, followed by a large spray of deep red blood that rained on the ground right in front of us. I turned towards the source of the red shower to see Davis collapse. There was a gaping hole in the back of his skull, blood gushing out like it was a fountain. His legs twitched for a moment before they suddenly stopped moving all together. His body laid face-down and motionless on the blood-stained desert sand.

“Davis!” Brad shouted, running over, his medical bag slapping against his thigh as he ran. “God-fucking-damn it, Davis!”

Charlie and I were too shocked to say or do anything other than gape at the corpse of our fallen friend. Scootaloo didn’t say anything either. I couldn’t directly see her face, but my guess was that if I, a hardened soldier of this fucked up war, was stunned from what I just saw, then an innocent filly like her was probably mortified beyond measure.

Brad reached Davis and got down to check his pulse, which seemed pretty ridiculous considering he had a hole in the back of his head the size of a golf ball. Then again, it was always better to be certain that one is dead rather than just assume it.

I turned myself away from both of them and placed my hand over Scootaloo’s eyes so she couldn’t see the worst aspect of humanity anymore.

“What…happened to him?” she whimpered, trying to peek through my hand. Her poor voice, quivering like her body, gave me all the mental imagery I needed to assume what her face looked like.

I imagined tears running down her face, her entire mind reeling as she was most likely too stunned to say a word. Thinking about these things made me even more determined to hide Davis’ body from her eyes.

“Don’t look.” I said in an assertive, father-like tone that probably sounded harsher than I meant for it to. Just as I said that, I heard Brad and Charlie stand up. I looked to see that they each had one of Davis’ arms in their hands. We all started to run off to the others, bullets whizzing by our heads, some missing by mere inches and tempting me to dive to the ground and shield Scootaloo’s body from the incoming rain of metal and lead.

“Is there any saving him?” I asked Brad, who was struggling to drag Davis with Charlie, who seemed to have a much easier time lugging his friend.

Brad looked up at me and shook his head, “He’s already gone.”

I nodded slowly before turning my attention back to the bunker. Butch was already inside, the barrel of his run gently placed on the sandbags of the bunker, his eyes staring out at the base. He was giving us cover while Ben stood outside of the bunker, motioning for us to get inside.

He really was the best leader we had.

“Were you able to help him?” Ben asked once we were a few feet away.

We all shook our heads.

“Then why the hell did you take him here?” Butch shouted. “You know how vulnerable you were? Risking  your fucking life for a corpse?”

“Dead or alive, we’re not leaving our friend out there alone.” Charlie growled back. “Not like a selfish prick like you would understand that.”

“You’re right, I wouldn’t.” Butch snarled before he pointed to himself, “Because this selfish prick had to take out insurgents so you didn’t die out there acting like idiots.”

Butch then turned his attention back to shooting his weapon. Charlie rolled his eyes at Butch’s behavior. He clearly cared about us, but he was always a dick about it.

“Clint! You and the filly get in first.” Ben shouted. I didn’t hesitate and quickly climbed into the bunker. Brad was close behind while Charlie stayed above-ground to provide some cover for us. Once in the relative safety that the bunker provided, I walked over to the corner and gently placed Scootaloo down on the sandy ground. She turned to face me; the blanket still wrapped snuggly around her body as her moist eyes met my own.

“Where are we?” she asked. She moved her eyes away from mine and scanned the inside of bunker. I could see in her eyes that she recognized this place, “is this the same place you left me in earlier today?”

I nodded. Suddenly, her eyes darted back to meet mine. They were filled with a sudden fear, “You’re not leaving me again, are you?”

I shook my head, “No Scootaloo, I’m staying here to make sure nothing bad happens to you.”

She gave me a small nod in trust and understanding, her tense body somewhat more relaxed after I gave her those words of encouragement and hope I offered her.

I felt a moment of relief as it seemed she had not broken down in the way I was worried that she might. Right now, she just seemed nervous and a little scared, most likely reassured by the bunker walls that shielded her from the war outside, as well as my words, which helped her relax immensely.

”…nothing bad will happen to you.” I repeated in my head.

But this moment of peace with Scootaloo was short lived, as it only took a matter of seconds for those words of hope to transform into a lie.

Charlie landed on the floor of the bunker with Ben right behind him. Ben was just about to follow suit, one leg hanging over the edge of the wall while his other was ready to swing around, there was the crack of a gun, followed by the “bang” of a bullet making contact with a solid target.

Blood sprayed from Ben’s neck. Ben instinctively put his hand over the wound just as he fell into the pit, blood gushing from his jugular as he laid face-down, and writhing around like a fish out of water.

“Oh fuck me! Fuck me!” Brad shouted before he ran over and turned Ben onto his back. Ben was still conscious, but it was clear he was about to go into shock.

He lay on the ground only three feet from Davis’ corpse, his own blood running down his side and spraying out of his neck. The sand around him started to turn crimson, as did Brad’s face while he tried to put pressure on the wound.

A wound that everyone in the bunker knew was fatal.

Through all the ruckus in the bunker, from Butch still firing despite his wishes to help with Ben, to Brad keeping his fingers on the jugular, to Charlie whispering reassuring words to Ben that really had no purpose other than to make his journey into the next life less excruciating.

I walked over to join them, forgetting about the little pony that was now curious as to what was going on. Her little body weaved its way between our legs so she could see what we were all so focused on.

Charlie saw me come over and he shook his head, “No man get back with Scootaloo, we’ve got this.”

Before I could even nod my head in response, Scootaloo walked beside me to look at the horrible scene.

“You’ve got wha…” before she could finish her question Scootaloo was able to watch first-hand as Ben went into shock. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped in dismay. The man she saw alive and well moments before, the one who had waited for us to get to the bunker before he got in, began to writhe uncontrollably in short, violent spasms on the ground.

She stared without saying a word for a couple of seconds until Ben stopped moving. His entire body went limp, his still open eyes glazed over, his skin pale as a ghost.

He died right in front of Scootaloo’s eyes. I would’ve given anything at that moment, even my own life, to erase the image of death from Scootaloo’s mind. But she did see it; she had seen war take another good man’s life in one of the most gruesome, torturous ways possible, and no amount of praying or pleading could help her forget that.

“Is he…is he…?” she whispered. All of us were silent, except Butch, who was still busy shooting.

“Will you three assholes help me out or what?” he shouted angrily as he fired another round off. “I can’t keep playing the lone ranger here, I need some assistance!”

Charlie decided to help butch out. Brad just stared as Scootaloo, before I could do anything to stop her, slowly walked over towards the Ben. She also got to see Davis’ corpse lying right beside Ben’s. It was like a two for one sale for the loss of purity and innocence, and apparently for fillies it was free.

Just as she was about to reach Ben’s body, her hoof sunk into the ground slightly and became damp. She looked down; her tear-filled eyes weren’t enough to shield her from seeing what she stepped in.

“What is this!?!” she shouted, lifting her hoof that was now covered in a mix of sand and crimson.

She fell backwards onto her flank screaming in horror, her eyes never leaving her blood-stained hoof.

“Get it off of me!!! Get it off!!!” she shouted, scooting back to her blanket, her hoof dragging along the way as she hoped the sand would clean it off. But all it did was leave a long, bloody streak along the ground. Eventually her screams stopped and she just stared at her hoof, eyes wide, breathing heavy and her body shaking like a leaf caught in a breeze.

Without a second thought I ran over to her and got down on one knee so I was at her level, or at least close to her level.

“Scoots?” I whispered. She didn’t respond, so I slowly reached out to put my hand onto her back.

She initially withdrew and looked up at me, her eyes still scared.

“Why won’t it come off…why won’t it come off…?” she muttered over and over, as if she couldn’t stop.

I looked at her reddened hoof and slowly reached out to it with my left hand. For the first time I noticed how much I was shaking. Whether from the situation of having two close friends die within minutes of each other, or my adrenaline from the chaos, my body was barely more stable than Scoots’.

I took her hoof in my hand and pulled it towards me. She didn’t take her eyes off of my face as I took out a canteen that I had on my belt. I poured a little onto her hoof. She flinched and then slowly relaxed as I started to rub the blood off of her as best as I could, using the cloth of my sleeve to scrub.

As I helped Scootaloo, I noticed about four to five more soldiers hop into the bunker. They looked exhausted and bloodied, their faces covered in greasy sweat and ash, their breathing was heavy. Though they seemed relatively calm in the face, their hands shaking like mine were.

Eventually, they all lined up along the wall to shoot, even Brad. I wanted to help as well, but when I tried to get up, I felt Scootaloo wrap her forelegs around my arm. I turned to see her looking at me with eyes, shining with tears.

“Please don’t leave me here.”

“I’m not leaving the bunker, I’ll be right there.” I said but, before I turned around I felt her arms further tighten my own. I looked down at her hoof, which, I had to admit, looked a lot less bloody than it was before.

“Please…stay…” she whimpered, nuzzling her face into my arm as she continued to look up at me like a sad puppy. Just like a puppy, I couldn’t resist her pleas as long as she gave me that look. It was only a matter of seconds before I caved and slowly lowered myself back to her level.

As I did this, Butch glared back at me, “Oh nice, spend quality time with your little pony friend while the rest of us do your job for you.”

Just as he said that, Charlie grabbed him by the shirt collar and pulled him close, “Why don’t you shut up so we don’t all have to do your job for you?”

Butch opened his mouth like he was about to retaliate, only to close it again. Charlie nodded and turned his attention back to shooting. Butch gave me one, last glare before he, too, continued his fight. Apparently the other men who recently joined us in the bunker were so consumed with their focus on the insurgents, they failed to notice Scootaloo. Or they did notice her but, decided to address the matter when there weren’t people trying to kill them.

So I sat with Scootaloo for the rest of the battle. I started to quietly sing some songs from movies I remember watching with Amy when she was really young, like “Can You Feel the Love Tonight” and “A Whole New World”. Both of which would always manage to cheer her up whenever she was in a down mood. Like that time Carol and I had an argument over a new dress she bought that I felt was a waste of money. Things got heated and the result was a very hurt nine-year-old daughter who ran up to her room in tears.

I went up to see her. She was lying face down on her bed crying into the pillow. I took a seat next to her and gently placed my hand onto her back. Through her sobs, she kept asking if Carol and I were getting a divorce. Apparently one of her friend’s parents had broken up after an argument involving a new car the husband bought without permission from his wife.

I tried to tell Amy she had nothing to worry about, that her mother and I loved her very much and arguing was just something all grown-ups did. None of this seemed to help, so I decided to take drastic measures and start singing one of the songs from “Beauty and the Beast”. This got her to not only stop crying, but to actually join in with the singing.

Eventually she sat back up and sang louder, her sad face turning into one of joy and laughter. We sang through a bunch of songs that night, each one making her cheerful deposition return more and more.

Singing, however, didn’t help Scootaloo get over what she saw. Even when I asked her if she wanted to join in, she didn’t even bother to give me a “yes” or a “no”. Hell, I would have settled for a shrug but, she was just too upset to do anything other than lean against me, her eyes closed and her breathing rapid as I could feel her little heart beat quickly against my side.

The only thing reason I knew she wasn’t asleep was her occasional movement or shift in place, and even then they were so small that I barely noticed them.

Finally, the battle slowed down enough for us all to leave the bunker. I lifted Scootaloo up and held her close to my chest. Charlie and Butch both passed Ben and Davis’ bodies up to the other men, who agreed to help us carry them to the medical tent so they could be prepared to be shipped home. Once both bodies were out of the bunker, Charlie motioned for Butch to climb out first.

Butch, still angry at Charlie for scolding him earlier, climbed up and out of the ground. Charlie followed him so it was just me and Scootaloo left.

I looked up to see Charlie standing on the outside of the bunker, his hands outstretched towards Scootaloo and I, motioning for me to pass her up as I walked over to him.

“Okay, Scoots I’m gonna pass you up to Charlie.”

She didn’t reply, she just stayed curled up in my arms. I slowly handed her off to Charlie, who carefully took her and pulled her out of the bunker. I followed and climbed out.

Charlie handed her back to me once I was standing again, and I readily took her back into my arms. I looked around assessing the damage.

It was unbelievable. Almost every tent was burnt to a crisp, including the one where Charlie and I resided. The one we were in just as the attack started.

Vehicles were scattered all around us, burning like a mini inferno, the metal blackened and the appearance looking less and less like a truck with each passing minute that it burned. Bodies lay strewn across the sandy ground, both enemy and ally. Blood pooled out around soldier’s bodies, much like  it had with Ben.

A group of soldiers behind a destroyed, burning truck lay dead, their bodies mutilated. Whether it was from a projectile or a homicide bomber, I wasn’t sure; it was sad either way.

We continued to look around to try and find our captain amid the frenzy, which wasn’t too much as so many lay dead that there were fewer people running around to check the bodies for anyone that could be saved.

Eventually we found Captain Shore, who was talking with some other officers, and upon seeing him it was clear that the battle hadn’t left him unscathed as a cut ran across his head. The bleeding seemed to have stopped, but it was still a gruesome sight as the blood that did escape the wound was still on his skin, though it was dry.

He turned to see us, the five other men, and the two corpses we brought with us. He didn’t seem to notice Scootaloo yet, as I was near the back of the group. But I knew that it was only a matter of time.

“Jesus Christ.” He muttered once he saw the two bodies. He sighed and pointed to a tent that was still standing. It used to be the dining tent, but now it appeared to have been converted into a makeshift hospital for the wounded, and morgue for the dead. “Take them over there with the other bodies.”

Butch, Brad and two of the anonymous men carrying the bodies nodded and ran off, leaving five of us, plus Scootaloo, alone with the Captain.

“Bastards shot down our air-support, and there were so many of them they think they were supplied by an outside source.” The captain muttered as he looked around at the once proud camp, reduced to ashes.

“Outside source, sir?” I asked.

He nodded, “A government, another underground terrorist organization, hell maybe they’re just recruiting with better propaganda. We won’t know until they investigate it, which they will. You can trust me on that.” He looked towards me with that last statement, and that’s when his eyes landed on Scootaloo, who was looking down at her little hooves.

The Captain pointed at her and looked back up at me so his steely eyes met my own.

“What is that?”

I’ll admit. I got a little nervous having the captain draw attention to myself. But I still had a question to answer.

“She’s…she’s a pony.”

“And why does she look like a God-damned cartoon character?”

“Because…she…is one?”

He looked at me for a moment before letting out a long, drawn-out sigh, “I’m too aggravated to put up with this shit. We’ll take her to the next base and find a way to get her stateside.”

“Next base, sir?” Charlie asked.

The captain nodded, “Yes, this base is decimated and we’ve received word of threats of another attack on a base about twenty miles from here. They want reinforcements in case their attack is as large as the one that just hit us. Meet at the front of the base in twenty.”

He then looked back down at the filly in my arms, “And keep an eye on her.”

I nodded, “Yes, sir.”

The captain walked off, leaving Charlie and myself alone in the middle of the smoldering remains of the base. I finally heard a little noise come from Scootaloo’s mouth as she spoke, “How could this have happened?”

“Evil runs rampant in these parts.” Charlie answered as he took out his cross necklace and began to quietly mutter some of the usual prayers he did. Normally, this wouldn’t bother me at all; in fact I usually supported it. After being through hellish battles, it was always nice to have someone on our side that had so much faith to make us feel somewhat safer.

But now I saw something else entirely. After losing Ben and Davis, both stand-up men with lives and families back home, I began to feel somewhat angered by Charlie’s constant faith.

But what really put me over the edge was Scootaloo. Knowing about everything that she’s seen in the very brief amount of time she was in Afghanistan. All the death, devastation, terror that she witnessed made my anger at God rise. Unfortunately, instead of getting flat-out angry at God, I took most of my rage out on his messenger.

“Are you enjoying your little conversation with God?” I asked with the slightest bit of malice in my voice. Not too much where it was obvious that I was angry, but enough where Charlie clearly was suspecting that something was wrong when he looked at me with a confused stare.

“Because I was wondering if you could ask him why he dropped Scoots off here?” Scootaloo looked up at me from her position my arms. I stooped down and gently placed her on the ground. She looked up at me as I tossed the blanket over my shoulder. She was now exposed to the world around her. Everyone in the camp, or what was left of it, could see her clear as day, but for the first time I didn’t care. Maybe because the captain already knew, or maybe it was my building anger with Charlie, but something happened to me in that moment where nothing else mattered besides the miserable filly that once had such innocent eyes, now foggy and corrupted, and my laundry list of questions for Mister Religious over here.

“Why not back stateside? Why not in Europe or some other peaceful part of this world? Hell, why did he even send her to this world!?! I’m sure there are plenty of peaceful worlds she could’ve gone to!” I growled.

Even though I knew technically it was Sweetie Belle that sent her here through a mis-cast spell, I couldn’t stop the overflowing hatred at that moment. Not even the nervous, scared look in my best friend’s eyes as I slowly started walking towards him accusingly could stop me.

“What is he trying to prove!?! Is he making some sick, twisted point on the contrasts of our world by taking an innocent girl like her and making her life through this hell!?!”

“Steve, please stop.” Scootaloo pleaded, but I was already too far gone.

“A place where she can die or get seriously hurt!?! And if not that, then her brain is plastered with images of warfare so she has PTSD before she’s a teenager!?!”

“Steve!” she screamed her voice quivering as I assumed she started to cry.

Again, I was too lost in my rage. Charlie seemed to try and say something, but whenever his lips moved, not a single word came out. He simply looked like a cowering child that was being interrogated by his father for something truly horrendous.

“Does he not think she’s been through enough, what with her parents dying? She has to be dropped off here…”

“STEVE!!!” Scootaloo shouted so loud that I finally turned to look at her. Scootaloo began to sob like a baby, shaking her head, “Please…stop yelling I can’t take it.”

With that, she collapsed to the ground and began to cry. I felt my heart sink at the sight, my own eyes started to fill with tears.

I caused her this pain. Watching as Ben died caused her to freak out, and she did cry a bit in the past hour or so, but only when I had my outburst against Charlie, did she break out into full-fledged large sobs, her face buried in the ground as if she was trying to escape through the sand.

I walked over and got back down, much like I had in the base. I slowly extended my hand, but stopped as I felt too guilty to put my hand on her to reassure her.

“Scootaloo…” I muttered. She slowly looked up at me. Her face covered in sand and tears, her eyes still like faucets. “I’m…I’m sorry.”

Scootaloo looked at me with a surprisingly disapproving look, “I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.”

She pointed behind me. I turned around to see Charlie looking down at the ground. He was no longer holding the cross in his hand, he was no longer muttering little prayers to keep us safe and ensure that Ben and Davis were looked after in the afterlife.

He was motionless, a flesh and blood statue without expression. His face was flushed of color, his eyes glazed over in a fog. He wasn’t crying or anything that drastic, he was simply miserable.

“Charlie, look man I’m sorry that…”

“You’re right.” He muttered, “Why do I bother. Even when I pray, I see good men all around me get gunned down like deer. What good does it do?”

Oh no, I didn’t mean this. I mean, sure I was angry and took my rage out on him, as well as God, but I never wanted to break his spirit.

“Charlie, don’t say that, I was wrong…”

“No you aren’t Steve, you’re point was completely valid.” He said. He didn’t show it in his near emotionless face, but by the tone of his voice I could sense that he was truly saddened. “What’s the point anyways?”

Charlie reached behind his neck and un-clipped his necklace and let it fall to the ground at his feet. He looked down at it for a brief moment before he looked up at me, “Come on let’s go meet the captain.”

With that he walked off. He didn’t sulk, he didn’t storm, he was just indifferent, and lacking any spirit he had only moment before, when I thoroughly did more mental damage to him than any part of this brutal battle had.

I slowly walked over to the glistening gold chain from which a beautiful gold cross hung. I bent over and picked it up off of the ground. Once I stood back up, I examined the necklace like an employee at a jewelry store.

“What is that?” Scootaloo asked.

“Charlie’s salvation,” I answered before looking down at her. She eyed it curiously before I shoved it into my right breast pocket, “until now. Damn-it.”

“Is he going to be okay?” Scootaloo asked, her eyes looking out towards the direction Charlie went off in.

I sadly shrugged, “Can’t tell but, I hope he will be.”

I slowly started to walk off, Scootaloo trotting slowly by my sides. Her spirits were less in the dumps than they were before. She seemed somewhat normal, save for the lack of smiling and talking, she at least wasn’t sobbing. As we went on, I couldn’t help but notice all the soldiers who took notice of Scootaloo. Many just stared in awe at the sight, while others had a look of familiarity in their faces. That, and the occasional soldier mouthing “Scootaloo”, indicated to me that this base had far more fans of the show than I originally thought.

Eventually we reached an area where some trucks had already lined up. Charlie still looked downcast and Scootaloo was turning beet red as she finally took notice of everyone that was staring at her like she had two heads.

“Scoots you want me to put the blanket on you?” I asked.

She shook her head, “No, I don’t mind…if they look at me.”

I nodded and looked around. By this point, once the initial shock already passed through the soldiers, they had gotten back to their duties. I can guarantee they were talking about what they saw, but most of them didn’t seem to be gawking at her like they were a moment ago. And those that were, with those unmistakable “fan-boy” faces, were soon drawn back to their work by aggravated officers or their fellow soldiers that needed help moving a body or checking on supplies.

Captain Shore came by about five minutes later, Butch, Brad and the five men came back to join us. The captain then ordered Butch, Scootaloo and me into one truck along with two other people that were in the group of five soldiers I didn’t know, but who helped us in the bunker. Charlie and Brad went into another truck with one of the others, while the last two from the anonymous soldiers’ group got put into a separate truck.

We all got in, Scootaloo taking her place on my lap while Butch and a younger soldier got in the other side of the truck. At the front, there was a driver that was inside the truck before any of us got in, and a middle-aged soldier in the passenger seat, a very serious look on his face as he looked down at his gun.

Butch made the younger soldier take the middle seat in the back, or the “bitch” seat as he called it, and hopped into the window seat before slamming the door in a rage.

“Fucking ass-holes got us up and moving when we should be staying here to help out.” He growled.

“They need us at that other base.”  The driver said without looking back from his seat. He obviously didn’t know Butch, because if he did he would’ve stayed quiet and kept driving. Instead he riled up the beast in the bastard.

Butch looked up so his eyes were staring into the rearview mirror, “And they need us here, you fucking glorified chauffeur.”

With that, Butch turned to me and Scootaloo, who was also looking at him. Her eyes were now angry. Even after everything she saw today, from Ben’s death to me lashing out at Charlie, she had not forgotten how much of a jerk Butch was to her.

“I thought you said you’d stop being a jerk if I revealed myself?” Scootaloo asked.

“The battle happened before you got a chance to, therefore my place as group asshole is still in-tact.” Butch hissed back.

“But your captain saw me, so I did.” Scootaloo gave Butch a small smug smile. I couldn't help but smile a little myself, glad her spunkiness was still somewhat intact after everything she saw.

Butch rolled his eyes and looked up at me, “Hey Clint, aren’t you gonna discipline her or something? Come on be a father figure.”

“Why would I, she’s been right about everything she said about you. You’re a brash, arrogant prick who, unlike most of us, lives up to every military stereotype in Hollywood.”

Butch opened his mouth to reply, but stopped. He closed it and turned away just as Scootaloo gave him another smug smile.

She then looked up me and provided me with an equally small, but genuine, smile; which I returned.

I looked over at the person sitting in-between Butch and I. He was young, as I’ve mentioned before, but I don’t think that gives justice to how young he looks. He has the appearance of a boy that just graduated high school. He is thin in frame, and relatively small. He also had near albino-blonde hair pressed down under his helmet.

Every now and then his eyes would look at Scootaloo before looking away. His face was turning red, from some kind of embarrassment I assume. I wanted to ask why he was acting like that, but then I saw a patch stitched to his uniform. It was a yellow circle that had three pink butterflies in the center of it. I immediately knew what it was, how could I call myself a fan of the show if I didn’t know what exactly was on the patch?

Before I could say anything, Scootaloo seemed to take notice of it as well and spoke up.

“Whoa, is that Fluttershy’s cutie mark on your arm?”

************************************************

[A/N] I apologize for the long gap since I’ve written my last chapter for this story.

This chapter is a little less realistic, though with Fernin’s help I was able to at least try and account for most of these situations. Let me know if anything was blatantly unrealistic where it was a distraction while reading. If not, I hope you managed to enjoy this chapter.

And once again, thank you RainbowDashEpicness for helping me edit this. :)

The Mob

[A/N]: Okay, sorry about the long gap in-between the updates for this story. i sort of got caught up in writing short, one-shot stories (heck, I still am), so I apologize for the late update.

i would also like to warn you guys that realism is now secondary. I hope to somewhat be realistic, at least in my portrayal of the soldiers, but I know this next chapter is going to be a bit unrealistic, so I hope that isn't an issue. If it is, feel free to let me know.

Finally, the end of this chapters has a nice little nod to one of my other stories. If you read it already, you'll understand it. Otherwise, I'll bring it up in the comments below. So, I hope you enjoy :)

Also, thanks to RainbowDashEpicness for helping me edit.

Chapter 6: The Mob

There aren’t many things you would hesitate to put in the realm of improbability after finding a cartoon filly in middle of Afghanistan, but I happened to encounter one of them.

I stared forward as our truck careened down the barren road, only our long caravan of vehicles speeding down it. The young soldier in the middle seat, to my left, was engaged in a lengthy conversation with Scootaloo about the show and how much of a fan he was of her and the “Cutie Mark Crusaders” as a whole.

I could see a little blush in her cheeks. It must have been quite a change of pace for a girl so used to heaping praise onto a pony like Rainbow Dash to suddenly find herself the recipient of such admiration. Seeing her face light up in red, her eyes darting to and fro like she wasn’t sure whether to look the young man in the eye or look down at her hooves, was possibly the cutest thing I’ve seen since Amy got her face painted like Nala from the “Lion King” at a local carnival. Maybe because Scoots reminded me so much of Amy, her behavior was similar to the filly’s when Carol and I told her how adorable she looked painted up as the little lioness. Her zigzagging eyes, her flustered cheeks - just like Scootaloo.

The brony soldier’s name was Kevin. And as I assumed before, based on his appearance, he was very young. In fact, he was the fresh age of twenty-one, but his clear eyes, shockingly pure for being a soldier, made him seem even younger, closer to seventeen or eighteen.

He was from Tennessee, but didn’t have a southern twang. He was also a self-proclaimed nerd, telling us how he’d often spend his downtime in front of a television playing Call of Duty or watching reruns of shows like My Little Pony, Digimon or Avatar: The Last Airbender on his tiny rabbit-eared television.

He also talked about his armband, and how his girlfriend had given it to him as a birthday gift so that he could remember her. How his girlfriend was like Fluttershy, being both very shy and a veterinarian.

As he talked about his love and the band she gave him, I couldn’t help but see my own predicament with Amy. It was eerie, really. My own armband with Scootaloo’s face on it, reminding me of the daughter I’d never see again. Now Steve, wearing an armband to remember the girl he wanted to see again.

I started to feel myself get teary-eyed and looked away. I began to take in the scenery around me. Hills and mounds of sand surrounded us.

Sand, everywhere there was sand. Emptiness, a lonesome feeling washed over my entire body.

Suddenly I felt a chill run through my spine as I had a case of déjà vu.  This whole thing felt like the ride into the small town the day I found Scootaloo.

Well, except for the filly herself being along for the ride, and the exuberant conversation she was having with Steve about different methods of getting her cutie mark, one of which was riding her scooter.

Regardless, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were heading into something bigger than anything we’ve ever faced. Maybe not destruction-wise, though it was possible, but something horrible that I wasn’t able to foresee. Even with everything we’ve been through so far that day, it was unpredictable and I was afraid of getting blindsided by whatever my sixth-sense was trying to tell me.

We were approaching a small town that was about half a mile down the road. We didn’t even need to enter the place before I knew my fear was justified.

“Jesus, what’s going on down there?” the driver asked.

Smoke rose from the small village, obscuring the brightness of the late afternoon sun. The closer we got to the town, the more that the blue sky disappeared into a gloomy grey of rising smoke. Soon all sunlight was gone, the entire inside of the truck became dark and I could see Scootaloo swallow hard, like she knew this was more than a simple darkness of the night. Eventually some of the darkness abated as we drew nearer to burning cars and houses, which provided an eerie glow that seemed to give everything around us a haunting orange hue.

Butch immediately put his gun up, finger on the trigger and ready to fire at a moment’s notice.

We entered the village in-between two parked trucks that were engulfed in flames. They were both military vehicles, one clearly American, as indicated by the presence of a star and stripe-laden flag on the hoof, flapping in the breeze and amazingly free of fire. That soon changed, however, as our truck drove past I could see a small ember of fire land onto the flag, lighting it ablaze. Before the entire cloth could combust we were already past, now inside the smoke-filled village.

From what I saw driving in, I expected the town to be silent, as if nothing was living there.

But it wasn’t. It was busy; with multiple civilians bustling around like their town wasn’t currently in danger of collapsing on itself. But there was something off about them. Many of them were carrying AK-47s and other weapons. They fired their weapons into the air, fired into shops. Hell, they fired at anything they damn well please. They wore ragged clothing, some waving dark flags with Arabic writing on it.

“Who the fuck are these people?” Kevin asked, voice shaking.

“I don’t know, but they sure as hell don’t look like friendlies.” Butch muttered, his eyes scanning the nearing crowd that continued to destroy everything in sight. It didn’t matter how small an object was, it was in danger of their wrath. I even saw a man fire a few rounds into an empty box. It just seemed like they wanted to destroy things.

Scootaloo got up onto her hind-legs, placing her front hooves onto the back of the passenger seat and leaned forward, trying to get a better view of what was happening through the windshield.

“What are they doing?” she asked.

Butch turned to the right so he was facing us and gently lifted her off of the passenger seat and put her in my lap. He then looked at me. His eyes had more worry in them than I’ve ever seen before from him. He then said in a very genuine, un-Butch-like, way:

“Keep her down and hold onto her tightly, we’re heading into the belly of the beast and we need to keep her safe.”

Not questioning his sudden display of humanity, I nodded and pulled Scoots closer to me. She seemed a bit scared. I rubbed her back a little to ease the tension that was built up within her. Kevin also put his hand around her and gave her a small, reassuring smile. Scootaloo turned to him with worried eyes.

“Nothing bad will happen to you Scootaloo, I promise.” Kevin said reassuringly.

But as I’ve learned before, saying those words often lead to being wrong immediately after.

And this time was no different, for once Kevin uttered these words the mob finally noticed us.

Before we could comprehend the shouting and pointing, there was a sudden flash of orange and yellow, followed by an explosion, as the truck at the front of the caravan burst into an exuberant display of dancing flames.

Scootaloo screamed and I pulled her down to my lap.

“Scoots stay low!”

Obviously I didn’t need to tell her a second time.

The mob began to fire their weapons at us, hurling apparently homemade explosives our way. Our once six-truck length caravan, now five, was under attack by these so called “innocent civilians”, and all we could do was try to escape with our heads, much easier said than done.

“Get us the fuck out of here man!” The soldier in the passenger seat hissed to the driver.

“I’m trying!” the driver growled before driving off through the angry crowd, following the truck in front of us. I could hear guns firing from both the mob as well as our own soldiers. I began to hear the turrets on the trucks fire at the mob. Our truck was merely a transport vehicle, as not enough trucks equipped with turrets survived the two bombings.

I could hear an explosion up ahead as a shop was blown out. The truck in front of us weaved out of the way of flaming debris. Some protesters began to hurl rocks at the windows of our trucks, smashing the butts of their weapons into the glass, causing them to crack and, in the case of a truck behind us, shatter. I watched as protesters climbed onto the truck, like rabid spider monkeys swarming a pile of bananas, trying to grab soldiers through the broken window. Fortunately for the soldiers inside the truck, they were able to shake off the mob before continuing to follow us down the road, the mob running after it.

“Do these idiots know we can just run them down?” Butch asked.

“They know we have morals.” The driver responded, “and would be hesitant to do that.”

“Fuck morals man they’re firing at us!” Butch shouted, “That makes them the enemy, plow them the fuck over!”

“As long as the truck in front of us is here we can only go as fast as them!” The middle-aged soldier in the passenger seat said, eyes darting to and fro, looking for a way out of the chaos.

Just then, a truck drove out from the middle of an alley. On the back of it stood an insurgent, and in his hands was a rocket launcher. He pressed the trigger and the projectile was sent at the truck in front of us. Before we could do anything, it exploded just as the first one had. The driver of our truck slammed the breaks on to avoid hitting the heap of flaming metal and flesh in front of us. The other three trucks behind us all stopped as well. We were trapped, at the mercy of the “civilians”.

The mob converged on our truck and immediately began to smash through the windows, pull at the doors, firing their guns directly at the car. For the most part, their rounds were too small to pierce the armor and windows on the vehicle. But that didn’t stop the bastards from doing everything in their power to get to us.

Since we had nowhere to go, we were helpless as our truck was tipped over to the left side, the crowd was flipping the truck over onto its hood.

Scootaloo screamed and I instinctively threw my arm around her, securing her to my chest as our truck was rolled over onto the hood. The windows cracked as I could feel the attackers jumping up and down on our hood, shouting anti-American and anti-western chants in perfect English, like they wanted us to know what they were chanting.

But they were chanting something else, something I couldn’t understand. Everything going on around me was too much for me to concentrate on whatever odd saying they were repeating like boys in a chorus of death and ruin.

I kept Scootaloo pressed against my chest as the mob pulled the doors open. Butch kicked and punched at the people that tried to grab him, but it was no use. He was completely at the will of the mob that pulled him out into the street. I could hear gunfire all around, presumably from the mob as well as other soldiers trying to fight back.

Our driver was trying to make a call for back-up as he was being pulled from his seat. Before he could make contact with anyone, one of the protesters put a bullet to the back of his head silencing him for good. The soldier in the passenger seat was also shot dead, blood painting the door behind his skull as his eyes gaped blankly at the people that dragged both his and the driver’s bodies off.

We in the back-seat were next. Kevin was pulled out, followed by myself and Scootaloo, who was still pressed up against my chest, shivering like she was going through a terrible case of pneumonia. I was dragged out into the blazing sun, the light blocked by the towering figures hovering above us, shouting, punching, kicking, shooting, and displaying every violent impulse humanly imaginable.

I was pulled to my feet, one of the insurgents tried to pry Scootaloo away from me, but I resisted. I threw a punch at him, knocking him to the ground, before I tried to fight my way through the mob. Unfortunately, it was so thick with resistance that I didn’t get far when I felt someone clock me in the back of the head with something hard. Immediately, I collapsed onto the ground. My skull was throbbing in pain, and my vision was disjointed. I felt someone tugging at my side and looked up to see Scootaloo standing above me, pulling at my shirt with her teeth. She then released the fabric and began shouting something. As my senses returned, I could hear her pleading for me to get up.

Before I could do anything, I watched as she was grabbed by one of the rag-headed bastards and dragged deeper into the ground, kicking at the ground and screaming. This was enough to snap my out of my momentary paralysis. I pushed myself up and made my way further into the crowd. I could feel the piercing pain of knives slicing my flesh and the sound of bullets being fired off.  I made my way through the crowds, eyes frantically looking around for Scootaloo.  Even with everything going on around me, I could hear her screams. Her ear-piercing, angry screams. The images of her struggling against the bastard that took her only increased my rage.

Fortunately, most of the crowd was focused on turning over the other trucks, so I was able to get through and eventually was free of the crowd. One of the dirtbags grabbed me by the arm and shouted something at my in Arabic, a knife in his hand held high, the point directly above me. Before he could do anything, there was a single gunshot. The man’s eyes bulged, his gripping hand relaxed and the knife fell to the ground. I could see a stain of fresh blood spreading on the back of his shirt.

He fell to the ground; hands clawing at my vest, as if his last wish in life was to kill me. Unfortunately for him, the reaper brought him darkness and he hit the ground, eyes glazed over and soul-less. Though I’m not sure how much of a soul he had to begin with.

I looked up to see Kevin staring at me, gun in his hand pointed directly at me, or rather where the insurgent had once stood. He looked determined, but still young. Clearly he’s never killed a person before because his face was pale as a ghost.

True, you managed to get used to killing insurgents after a few tours in this shit-hole, but all of the training you go through, all of the preparing for battle never could get you used to putting a bullet through another human being. You don’t learn it in boot-camp; you get it with experience in the battlefield, something Kevin clearly lacked.

“Where is she?” Kevin asked breathlessly, his color slowly returning to his cheeks.

“Some pricks took her.” I answered, spitting onto the ground.

Once I said these words, Kevin changed. His previously shocked expression became one of rage; I could see his knuckles turn white as he tightened the grip on his weapon.

“Nobody hurts one of Lauren Faust’s ponies.” Kevin said; his face returning to normal as life seemed to surge through him. He held his weapon at the ready and from the look in his eyes; I could tell that he was ready to kill again if necessary. Like I said, it came with experience, and the second one was always easier.

“Come on, let’s find her.”

I nodded, and started walking in the direction I saw Scootaloo dragged off in. Again, even with everything happening I could still make out her screams. Maybe it was my selective hearing, or that nothing mattered at that moment except getting her to safety.

We made our way through the crowd, pushing people away as he got grabbed, shot at, beaten; it wasn’t pleasant.  Once we were in relative safety, I saw a flash of orange to my right. I turned to see Scootaloo get pulled into one of the houses. Cursing I sprinted after her.

“Scootaloo!”

I could hear ragged-breathing behind me as Kevin tried to keep up. We reached the door and I opened it, gun drawn. I didn’t think, I didn’t have to. Seeing the three ass-holes standing above Scootaloo, their guns pointed at the poor filly’s head, was all I needed to see before I shot two of them dead. Kevin nabbed the last one. The wall behind the men was sprayed in maroon as their bodies fell limp to the floor, Scootaloo covering her ears, her eyes sealed shut like blinds on a window. I could see a line of blood running down her nose. I suddenly felt a new rage boil within me.

Those bastards hurt her, they hurt Scootaloo. My little Scootaloo. I tightened the grip on my gun when I felt Kevin slap me on the shoulder. snapping myself out of my momentary rage-induced daze, I turned to him and he pointed to the freaked out filly.

“Go to her, I’ll stand guard.” he ordered, sounding more like an official and less like the young kid I saw on the truck leaving the base with the Fluttershy armband on his arm.

I nodded and ran over to Scootaloo’s side. Her entire body was shaking like a leaf. Apparently no matter how much shit she went through, the terror she felt never lessened. I put my hand onto her shoulder, causing her to flinch. When she realized she wasn’t in danger, she slowly opened her eyes and looked up at me. She wasn’t crying this time-having cried all her tears from everything else she saw- but she did look more scared than she had at any point since coming here.  I sighed and shook my head.

“Where’s everybody else?” she asked. Her voice was quiet but mostly steady, only the tiniest quiver was present.

I pointed behind myself, “Out there.”

She craned her neck to look behind me, but all she saw was Kevin standing behind the partially-open door, the familiar blasting of gunfire and screaming of death echoed into the small house.

The floor was dust and the walls were made of some kind of sand. It wasn’t a great place by any means, but it was all we had. Suddenly an explosion rang off nearby, causing the small window at the front of the house to blow out. Instinctively, I grabbed Scootaloo and pulled her close, just in case any glass shrapnel flew at us like tiny projectiles. I looked up to see Kevin crouched down, his hands above his head and his eyes closed. Slowly he looked up at me, our eyes met. He gave me a small nod and got back to his feet, still a bit shaky from the blast.

I was about to get up as well when the door to the house, the only thing keeping us safe from the chaotic world outside, was smashed in. The edge of the door hit Kevin square in the back and sent him to the ground. He turned around, gun drawn and aimed at the towering insurgent that kicked his way in. Unfortunately before Kevin had the chance to do anything, the fucker had his own gun aimed into Kevin’s abdomen. He pulled the trigger; a single bullet tore into the kid’s oblique. He let out a quick yelp and groaned before he collapsed to the ground, hand clutching his blood-soaked side.

But the bastard wasn’t finished. He raised his gun, aiming at Kevin’s head. Quickly, following my instinct, I lifted my gun off the floor, grains of sand falling as I pulled it into firing position, and I took aim at the insurgent. Before he could react, I pulled the trigger.

For the first time since she’s been here, Scootaloo witnessed me take another person’s life. It wasn’t the first time I’ve done so. That would be back on my first tour when I sniped someone from about two-hundred fifty yards away. That was the biggest adrenaline rush of my life. Never had I felt such a blending of horror and enthrallment in my life.

This time was different. I watched the bullet stream through his head, the airborne river of blood soaring in the air behind him, his brains and pieces of skull flying through the open door he kicked in. As I watched him fall to the ground-eyes still open and mouth partially agape- I felt remorse.

Not for killing the man, I didn’t give two-shits about him. I cared about the little gasp I heard beside me, followed by silence. That wasn’t any ordinary gasp. That was a gasp of shattered perceptions, something you’d hear if you discovered that your mother, who supposedly loved your father to death, was cheating on him with another man.

Before about a minute ago, Scootaloo never saw any of us kill someone up close. The three scumbags Kevin and I took down, and then this fucker that I decapitated, were the first. Before she even got over the initial shock of Kevin and me taking out her captors, I had to add to her terror by shooting this man in the most gruesome way possible.

I didn’t want to look at her, sure that she was going to start crying or that she’d re-enter her state of trembling in fright. Instead, I watched as the little orange blur darted past me and seemingly flew over to Kevin’s limp side. Surely she couldn’t have flown; I knew that Scootaloo couldn't fly.

But she might as well have flown; she went so fast with such determination, to check on her fan.

I could hear her muttering to him in as soothing a way as possibly, her little orange hoof placed onto his shoulder, her eyes meeting his. I slowly pushed myself up and walked over to Kevin, getting down onto my knee to listen to his weak-voice as he spoke to the pegasus filly. The chaos and commotion of the outside world no longer mattered-though the sounds of gunfire seemed to slow. The only meaningful thing was this final conversation of a young soldier.

“You’re going to be fine Kevin.” Scootaloo said, her voice revealing her own insecurities.

Kevin let out a weak chuckle, “Heh, Scootaloo...” he swallowed, spitting out some blood before finding his words, “...I know...I’m going to die.”

“Don’t say that,” Scootaloo whispered, tears forming in her eyes as she put her two hooves onto the sides of Kevin’s face so she could look him square in the eyes, “you’re going to be fine.”

Kevin gave the weakest smile possible and replied, “I know.”

He was lying. He had to be. There was no way in hell he actually thought he was going to be fine. Not with a hole in his side the size of an apple, gushing blood onto the floor around Scootaloo. I don’t know what was more saddening, watching the poor soul die in front of Scootaloo, or the fact that she no longer seemed fazed by the blood covering her hooves. Before it sent her into hysterics, was she really that numb to everything now?

Kevin let out a grunt of pain, blood dripping from his mouth as Scootaloo began to slowly stroke his arm, trying her best to comfort him as the life started to drain from his eyes.

Then he said something, to this day, I’ll never forget. I always believed in the idea of escapism being used in the army, whether it is through recreational activities at the base- like basketball and ping-pong- or watching things on television. But what I never expected to see was a dying man reach out and place his hand onto the living, breathing being that was part of a world he watched, that he thought was fiction, and simply utter.

“I’ll be fine...because I met you...and I now know that you exist.” Kevin swallowed hard, clearing his throat with a powerful grunt, “I know Equestria exists...and that means...so does peace.”

Both Scootaloo and I watched helplessly as Kevin flashed her one, last smirk before his eyes closed and his breathing stopped. A pool of blood surrounded his body as well as the pony sitting next to him, burying her face into his blood-stained shirt, sobbing like she knew him for a lifetime rather than a couple of minutes.

I walked over and placed a hand onto her side, slowly rubbing her to comfort the pain she felt. She looked up, her tears and snot dripping onto Kevin’s shirt.

“Why...why does this all happen?”

“Because that’s how our world is run. It’s chaos.”

“But why, we can stop chaos and even then...it’s never this bad.”

I opened my mouth to answer, but stopped. I realized there was nothing that I could say to her that would be truth.

I laughed and shook my head, “I could say some bull-shit answer based on my experience but in honesty, I don’t know. And I don’t think I ever will.”

Scootaloo stood up and looked down at Kevin’s body. She then walked over to his face, leaned down and placed a gentle kiss onto his forehead. It wasn’t anything romantic, it was just how a daughter might kiss her father. She slowly backed away and walked over to me. I brought her in for a hug, petting her back as she continued to look down at the corpse. Not knowing anything better to do, I began to hum. And from that hum I started to add some lyrics.

“Three months of winter coolness, and awesome holidays. We've kept our hoovesies warm at home, time off from work to play. But the food we've stored is running out, and we can't grow in this cold...”

I wasn’t sure if “Winter Wrap Up” was a real song in Equestria since it was choreographed stunningly on the show, like a musical as opposed to reality, but either way it was my favorite song. Its upbeat tone, it’s optimistic and innocent lyrics, it was wonderful. So both Scootaloo and I sat there. I started to sing, my ears turned to the door as the sounds of gunfire slowed down to nothingness. The battle was over.

I didn’t get up, not yet. Even if, for a brief moment, I wanted to live in the denial of safety provided by this home. We continued to sit, my singing drifted on, I could feel Scoots’ body relax.

Just outside, I could make out the eeriest chant I’ve ever heard. Strange thing is it came from the familiar accent of the locals, though it wasn’t in Arabic, in fact it sounded Latin.

Then again, did it really matter? War was war, and mayhem was mayhem. So they wanted to chant in Latin, was that any stranger than blowing someone’s brains out? Still, I listened. The chants growing fainter and fainter, but I could still make it as they drifted off.

“Resurgere in contereret,

Cadent de vastantium.

Bellum aequalitas,

Bellum contra Class.

Nocte nos Superius,

Nocte nos pugnare.

In iuventus Valete,

Discordia est rex.”