Hell Hath no Fury

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!!!!!!  Why the hell did I have to join the fucking marines!  I thought as a 20 mm autoloading cannon fired at me from my hiding spot underneath the charred remains of an armored troop transport.

“TANK!  You alright?” Alex yells from the ditch a few yards away, trying to get me to hear him over the cannon fire.

“I still have my balls, and all my limbs, so yeah!  I’m great!  Just dying to kick some ass!”  A round ricocheted off the ground a few feet from my legs.   I cursed again as the gun refocused its’ attention on the ditch.

I crawled underneath the still burning armored vehicle, my M16 pointed forwards.  I see the damned truck with the auto-cannon in the bed, the ISIS jackass that was behind it, as well as a few other support fighters.  Why’d Islam have to exist?  Without it, I could be on a nice comfy base, watching a shitty movie made in 1989.

I aimed in on the gunner, completely ignoring me, the gun facing just the right angle away from me for a clean shot.  I take one shot, a red mist erupting from his head.  I took a few more shots on the other terrorists before they got wise, and started shooting at me.  Shimmying backwards, and I got behind a wheel, bullets pinging off of the vehicle, and bouncing off the ground.  A bullet went straight through an exposed leg, and I grunted in pain.  Damnit, again?  Why is it that I always get shot whenever I get in an engagement!

“I’m hit!  Again.” I yell out, “Leg shot!  I’ll be fine!”

I put weight on the leg, pain seething through me.  But I was pretty much like Deadpool from the Marvel universe.  I’d been wounded so many times and so much worse, that pain was something that I was more than just used to.  I expected it.  My thoughts from before was more than pertinent now.  I truly did get shot or wounded every engagement.  Thankfully for my psyche, I had learned to tune it out after a while.

Standing up and peering around the corner of the transport, firing off a few bullets blindly.  I looked over at my unit, hiding inside the ditch and a short stone wall.  Loki, our radio operator, was screaming into his radio mike for some fire support.  Please send a Spooky!  Or an A-10!  BOTH DAMNIT!

“Come on Loki!  Get us something good this time!” I yell.

“Fuck off!  I’m doing my best damn job!”  He answered, going back to his radio operating.

A fresh bullet tore a nice clean tear across my chest.  I gasp aloud as I fall backwards without thinking. Damnit, there’s another one.  I grunt again as I hit the ground.  Picking myself up again, I scrambled behind the wheel again, more bullets hitting the transport.

“Hey Tank!  Got you your support, you asshole!” Loki says with his Marine playfulness.  A blast of fire and hell exploded where the terrorists were.  There were no cries of pain, just the loud booms.  I laughed crazily, walking out from behind cover after the show of fire ended.  I walked along the broken road towards the burning truck.  I wanted to make sure that the fuckers were dead, no exceptions.

Another couple of steps, and the cracks of several bullets going off at once sounded, and I found myself on my back, more pain in my torso.  I gasped at the impact and the air being vacuumed out of my lungs, but I remained calm, eventually being able to breathe again, though my chest leaked fluids besides blood, which bubbled, the air escaping.  My body protesting, and my brain not caring, I stood up, and stumbled towards the burning truck again.  NOTHING was going to stop me.

I counted eight dead bodies, excluding the one I had killed, who was currently blown to pieces.  I looked them over, satisfied that they were all dead, looking for the offending rifle whose bullets had gone off, but to no avail. Fuck it, doesn’t matter that much.

A sudden thud made my heart drop out my ass, as I turned my head to look straight at a BOMB.  I scrambled away from it, my wounds screaming in more pain.  Again, ignored.  I felt like I could feel the bomb about to go off.  A final leap intended to get me to the ground, instead made me fly like a cartoon character would when the bomb blew.  For me, it was the herald of silence.

     Meanwhile- Rainbow Dash

The controlled cold of winter was always something I didn’t like, ironically enough.  The snow always piled up on my back, weighing me down, got in my eyes, and ice always managed to form on my wings.  So for now, I was trapped on the ground in my winter home, which I neglected a bit during the summer, and even other winters that weren’t bad enough to keep me from being in my snug cloud room in the sky.

I was staring out at the barren landscape, bored out of my mind.  Twilight was reading some books on magic with Spike helping her, Fluttershy was trying to keep her winter birds from getting hungry, Applejack was managing her apple stores, Pinkie Pie was working at Sugarcube Corner, and Rarity was busy making “fashionable” winter clothing for her clients, and herself of course.

I sighed ever so bored.  I couldn’t read any more Daring Do books, as I had read them all so many times that the joy of reading them had kind of lost their touch on me, as I knew exactly what was going to happen next, and how to counter everything to Darings’ advantage.  Sometimes, I actually found myself yelling at the pages for Daring to not do something that was going to mess things up for her.  I really needed to find something else to do.

Just as this was going through my mind, a loud explosion emanated from in front of the house, a blinding flash forcing me to close my eyes.  When I could open them again, I was dumbstruck by what I saw.  Snow had been blown away from a small circle of scorched dirt, with a creature badly bloodied in the middle.  My jaw dropped as I realized that the creature was on fire!- and trying to put itself out, crying out in pain.

I burst out the door flying, gathering up snow in my hooves, and dumped it on the creature, putting out the fire, and forcing the creature down to the ground, silent.  I gently flew closer to it.  It didn’t have a muzzle, or fur.  To add to this, the creature was just tall enough to where it could probably be as tall as my shoulder.

It was looking real bad, the burns still slightly smoking.  But to my horror, that wasn’t the only wound that the thing had.  There were deep punctures in its’ torso as well as a gash over well developed muscles, and a sizable hole in its’ left leg.  How did it manage to walk with something like that! I wondered.  But there wasn’t any time to just hover there, gaping at the wounds.  I had to get it to the hospital.  I grabbed it under its’ belly, and hefted it up, noticing how it seemed fairly heavy, and zoomed off to the hospital of PonyVille.