Author's Note

So this is the first of many intermissions that will be placed between each act to give me a little time to catch up. They'll all have something to do with events prior to or during to the main story, and all tie in in some way. So here you go.

Intermission 1 - The Rainy Days

Drip.. Drip.. Drip, drip drip…

A light fall of rain drops down from the clouds above. It gently paddles down against the forest brush below. A storm of growing strength is rolling in. Its heavy clouds bring much needed life back to the suffocating trees and bushes. The falling water rolls from the leaves off which they splash, dripping down into the soaked, muddied ground. The air is cool, a fresh and gentle breeze rustles all around. The rain pats, and the leaves dance.. The soothing music of a springtime shower. This steady rain falls endlessly across all Equestria. But these misty days of ceaseless drear are not of the natural courses so carefully maintained by the Pegasi. These rainy days, drizzling on forever, are the closings of a hard fought battle for home.

Thunder bellows softly in the distance. But it is the rumbling of far off artillery and high yield explosives. Their rumbles echo quietly through the wooded grounds of White Tail Woods. Beneath the falling skies, their heads open to the dismal gray, a small band of four exhausted unicorns hold their position in a flooded trench. They are all weak, tired, and have been left feeble after many weeks of fighting. They now reside in these acres as a lookout point far from the fight. They still hold true to their faith, refusing to give in to even the heaviest falls of rain or gunfire. One of them, the strongest and bravest of the group, stands atop a moldy, dilapidated wooden crate. She peers just over the soggy trench edge, as a thick brown soup pours in all around her. She stands vigilant, on guard, staring deep into the forest beyond. She listens.. The rolling thunder grows louder with the passing moments. Something is headed her way, but as she watches, she sees nothing.

Her three comrades lay in the mud beside her, their backs rested against the walls, and their eyes closed. The rain falls down onto their uncovered heads, soaking them all to the core as it has for weeks, but it is ignored. It is something they’ve come to grow used to. With their eyes closed, their minds at ease, the three finally have a moment of peace to themselves to recover their strength lost to the war. As they rest, the unicorn on guard continues to stand her ground. She is ready. Ready to do her job. To defend, and to kill.

A rifle’s barrel protrudes unnoticed from a bush. It holds steady and still. Water splashes against its cold, smooth metal curve. But the barrel does not move. It endures the monsoon, never wavering or faltering, just the same as the Unicorn at which it aims. Holding relaxed to the rifle, its stock resting in the nook of his shoulder, a human scout. He peers through his scope, watching the unicorn as her tired eyes begin to droop. His muscles are completely still, and he breathes in a slow, calm rhythm. He too ignores the rain pouring down upon the cloak that keeps him dry and warm. He keeps the crosshairs in perfect alignment, and waits. Waiting for the tired unicorn to be relieved by another. A voice creeps up in a whisper behind him.

“How many you got MRS?” says the voice, kept under silence beneath the growing storm.

“Still just the one. But she looks tired. Any minute now, they’ll get their head back up.” replies MRS.

“Well they better hurry. First wave’s only three klicks behind us.”

The unicorn begins to waver in a tiresome stupor as her shift comes to an end.

A second barrel slowly emerges from the bushline next to the first.

Two unicorns awaken to relieve their drowsy sister. They stand up, all three them unknowingly exposed for the watchful scouts. One of them taps the shoulder of their sister. They begin to trade the duties of guard, so she may gain respite as well.

“There they are..” MRS and FMC both steadying their weapons. “You take the guard, I’ll take the other two.”

“..Roger…”

They both take aim, all three targets are presented perfectly in the open for them… They fire.

Ss-thook-thook, Ss-thook.

The silenced rifles go unheard neath the rain and thunder. Before the unicorns even know what's going on, the three splash into the trench floor, dead. Their blood pours out and mixes with the muddy brown. In the confusion, the remaining unicorn jumps from his slumber, and raises his head.

Ss-thook.

He too falls at the unheard burst.

The music of spring continues to sound throughout. The peaceful mood of a quiet, rainy forest in evening light goes on undisturbed.

“Two more for you, and two more for me. Good shooting MRS.”

“How many positions is that today? Fourteen? Fifteen?”

“Sixteen.”

“Ha, yes! Radio up to Battalion and tell 'em we earned ourselves some medals!”

“Easy now MRS. We still have enough time before sundown to get a few more. Let's get moving. JAX and ROM can take the next one.”

Jax and ROM both lean against a tree with their eyes closed. “Finally done playing around?” Jax asks snidely.

“Roger, we are. Now it's your turn for the fun. Get your ass up here!” FMC barks.

FMC. The leader. Also known as Fully Mission Capable as many jokingly refer to him. He is twice the age of who he leads, but more than twice as experienced. His 3 subordinates - MRS, the senior scout of the team. ROM, the top lieutenant of his class in heavy weapons, demolition, and first aid in the field. And finally, JAX. A scout just like MRS. Though a few years behind, he is no less capable.

Jax and ROM take point as the team emerges from the bushes, and continue ahead through the forest. This team, Bravo Team, has been scouting ahead to clear the way of entrenchment for the last seven days. Following them, not even a few miles behind, the fighting forces of the 21st Combined Arms Division. After a successful siege and take over of the Capital, to include all her satellite cities, the talents of Bravo team have been relegated to missions of much lower intensity. Despite their propensity for success, having never been spotted or taken casualties, the war has changed and they are now on call for situations many would consider milk runs.

Bravo Team emerge from the bushes in which they hid. Their thick slick boots sletchwith each marshy step as they advance on the trench. It’s small enough that they step right over it. As they pass, Jax takes a moment to look on as it fills with water, and blood. The soup is dark red, almost black. Dripletts splash around the slumbering corpses. He looks at them with a subtle frown, remorse light on his mind. He always found it sad for anyone to be cut down in their prime when they never even saw it coming. He thinks about it He imagines falling asleep knowing he’ll wake up as he always does, but it not coming. It all just ends, and one never knows when or why. But that feeling passes as the trench becomes nothing more than another memory behind him. The team carries on, their minds all set on finally making this place their home.

MRS looks to the skies. There, he spots a formation of Pegasi flying in a V. They weave in, out, and through the bleak gray tufts. Their smudged silhouettes are too distant to make out details. He raises his rifle, and zooms in for a better look. The team stops, dropping to a crouch as his weapon aims skywards. “Get on the radio.” he says.

FMC pulls a hand mic from his shoulder pad. “Wha-do-ya got?”

“I got 30 wings moving west, bearing 287°, at 70 km/h.”

FMC calls over the radio to a wing of two aircraft attached to them as support. “Phantom, this is Bravo 4, over.”

Coming in clear, only tiny pops of static in the background, the jets of Phantom Squadron call back. “Bravo 4 this is Phantom, I got you, send your traffic.”

“Phantom I got 30 wings for ya headed back to the Home Force.”

“Roger that Bravo 4, do you have a grid for their location?”

“Just head to my grid and you should run right into them nearby.”

“Alright Bravo 4, I’ll be on you in 2 minutes with guns ready.”

“Roger Phantom, good hunting. Bravo 4 out.” FMC puts the hand mic back in his shoulder slot. “Welp, they’re in for a rough day.”

“Amazing how they just keep fighting even though they're losing.” Jax says aloud.

“Just more lambs for the slaughter.” ROM replies. “People should know when they are conquered.”

“Would you?” FMC asks, loud enough for all to hear. “Would I? They don’t give up because they know it wouldn’t be any different if they surrendered. If you knew that, would you quit?” he asks looking at MRS to his left.

“No.”

“Would you stop?” looking to Jax.

“I’d keep fighting.”

“Well that’s where they’re at.” FMC continues. “We won’t quit until they’re dead, and they won’t quit until they’re dead. We’re all locked in a slaughterhouse. The only difference here is we all die for something we value.”

“Home.”

“That’s right. We’re all fighting for our home.”

“Too bad it was theirs to begin with.”

“Well it’s ours now. JAX, you ever look down at the dirt at all the worms? You don’t move out of the way for them do you? Well that’s all these Equine are. They’re just worms to us, crawling around in the mud in our way as we step all over them. And that’s what we are. We’re the boot.”

“The old man’s a poet.” MRS says. Jax and ROM both scoff with a smile.

“Just hold on to that smile. This’ll all be over in a little while.”

“And he’s got rhymes.”

Even FMC has a small grin at his mouth’s edge.

MRS walks closer to FMC. “Hey Fully, you remember those first few nights we were here?”

“What about em?”

“How’d you get out of that nest of ‘worms’? You haven’t told us that story yet.”

FMC chuckles as this is brought up once again.

“The man’s a legend.” ROM says sarcastically under his breath.

“No ROM, it’s just like I keep tell you.”

“Oh no no Fully, I wanna hear the real thing this time.” says MRS

“You did hear the full thing. I just kept my hopes high and I made it out. I kept telling myself the only way was forward, and so that’s where I went.”

“Oohh no. So you’re telling me all you had was a wish, the wind at your back, a you just walked right outta there?”

“Yep. I just put one foot in front of the other and kept on walking.”

“Well where’d you walk too?”

“Home.” FMC says smiling.

“You cryptic old bastard.”

“He likes to keep us guessing.” says Jax. “He thinks it’s funny to torture us with riddles.”

“You’re damn right it is. There’s not much to laugh at out here except you clowns.”

Thunder and rain are replaced by a gaining rumble. Deep, bellowing, it shudders in the ground. The scouts all feel it rattling in their bones as the endless booms magnify. Two jets streak by just over the treetops, their intakes screaming and their engines splitting the air with their power. They blast by over head. A hurricane of rushing air, pelting leaves and stabbing twings slam into the scouts as they watch the jets pass. “Love it when they do that.” ROM says as they all look to the jets that now disappear into the distance.

“That’s Phantom for you.”

“Gimmie that mic!” MRS yanks the hand mic from FMC’s shoulder. “HEY! You almost blew us off the ground! Go back and pick up all that shit you just tore up, we need that! We don’t have trees on the ship, they’re special!”

Everyone laughs. FMC shoves him away and sets back the mic. Their mood as they walk is light, lifted by the jokes and Phantom’s entrance. But only seconds pass, and another booming brings stark reality back to each of them. The engines are but whispering echos. Now, the deep, reverberating, almost buzzing sound of Phantom’s rotary cannons throb through the air. The jets have engaged their target. Bravo Team stares off to where they hear it all going down. It is too far to see, the canopy of leaves too thick to view anywhere but straight up. The all have the same look on their face. All are at a loss for words. They almost feel remorse as they listen to that deep, droning buzz. They can almost empathise with the Pegasi, imagining what it must be like for them as they are swiftly torn apart just out of view. But it all stops, the buzzing ends as if turned off by a switch. The music of spring returns as it fills the void in noise. The team carries on.

• - - -

Bravo Team continues eastward through the forest in pairs. ROM with Jax, and FMC with MRS 50 meters to their left. The torrential downpour dampens their steps. Birds chirp in the trees around them. Their advance is peaceful. Were it not for the thoughts of war on their minds, they would enjoy this peaceful walk through nature. The world’s light is dimming down, the evening blues set in. All is tranquil around them, only the paddling rain fetters away. But they have a mission, and they must remain focused, the enemy could be anywhere ahead. They don’t know how far, they just know more positions lie ahead. But as light fades, they will close their mission until day’s return. The humans, so prideful of their progress, see the night as opportunity to rest. The pause at midnight’s sheath is also a welcomed break for the Equestrians.

Some time later, through thick layers of timber but no far ahead, Jax spots a very small, barely noticeable shift. He raises his fist, and the team stops. Jax had seen a unicorn's head peek over a trench, and drop back down. The team holds still, unsure if they have been spotted. While motionless, their cloaks perfectly blend and match the surrounding brush. They are invisible, until they move and the cloak must to its best to seamlessly blend back in. Only they can see each other. As they stand, they wait. But nothing happens. They have not been spotted.

They all slowly drop to their knees, weapons up, and continue down laying flat.
Jax and ROM lay side by side in the open. They both train their weapons to the same target ahead. It is yet another entrenched position held by unicorns. It all feels and looks the same as each and every position before it.

“How many you think JAX?” ROM asks in a low whisper.

“Just the same as the last one. Four. They always have four.”

“You never know.”

“And you do?”

“It’s always better to expect the unexpected.”

“I suppose so. Then again, sometimes you just know.”

A loud thunderclap breaks the peace of the forest. “Dammit. That’s another man down. That one sounded close too. I wonder who the poor fellow was this time.” ROM says.

“Probably some poor soul in Alpha Team. I will admit, their use of weaponized lightning came as a bit of a surprise to me.”

“Always expect the unexpected.”

“They must be nearby. We better take these guys out quick before their spotters find us as well.”

“They won’t see us down here. Not when we’re still. It’s the ones up ahead that are marking us. If we take them out, the wings can’t get an accurate strike.”

Jax and ROM continue to watch the unicorn ahead. They assess, and they calculate.

The unicorn drops down from his post and vanishes from sight.

Bravo team continues to watch, wait, and listen. As Jax and ROM scan the top of the trench, MRS and FMC report over their team radio that there’s another position on their left flank. This one angled straight on at the team. ROM looks to the right and finds another close by. They’ve unknowingly walked right into a killzone, flanked on all sides but their rear. They were lucky enough not to have been spotted, but now they are pinned in a trap.

“What-do-ya think JAX? Think we can up our score to 17?”

“Of course.”

“Your time to shine. How do you want to take this?”

Jax takes a moment to think. He takes into account every tool at his disposal. He looks left to FMC and MRS. Both teams are within grenade distance of the trenches on their flanks. “The only way is forward.” Says Jax. “Plan G?”

“Plan G it is then.” ROM says, calmly setting his Arc Rifle in the mud, and unstrapping a grenade from his belt.

Jax lets the other two know of his plan. FMC also readies a grenade, and they all settle in.

They continue to watch and wait. Another thunder clap shatters the peace but is quickly muffled away.. All lay motionless, all breathing slow as they prepare themselves for a fight.

The unwitting unicorn raises his head once again. He does not see the scouts settled ahead, less than a stone’s throw away. Their cloaks keep them completely hidden.

The unicorn stares through the trees, looking at every little movement in the leaves. How they shake, how they flutter down as they fall. He looks for the slightest sign of something out of place. And he listens. Listening to the soft, deep rumble that grows louder with the passing minutes. He uses all his senses to his aid. He is careful, and he is cautious.

He drops back down to write a message. Written on a moldy piece of paper, he marks his words with magic. The message reads, They’re coming this way. I don't know how far but they're close. I can hear them. I haven't heard anything from Violet Spice up ahead but I’m sure she’s ready to fight. I too am ready. - Comet Tail.

In a glowing wisp, the message shoots out of the trench and darts away deep into the woods behind. He peeks over the trench once more as he awaits a response.

Jax picks him back up. He studies the unicorn through his magnified scope. He sees the unicorn’s stern face, sees the water dripping off his chin. A bead of rain hits his eyelashes, and he winces and blinks but stays focused. His eyes are blue, wide, and hopeful. He is young, probably only in his teens. Though Jax could take the shot now and initiate Plan G, he hesitates. The unicorn drops back behind the trench.

“Something wrong JAX?” ROM whispers.

“.. No. I'm just waiting for the right moment.”

“Well you better hurry. I can already hear FMC thinking up a reprimand.”

“He can wait.”

“No, he can’t.”

“Better to wait for the right moment to strike, yeah? Something unexpected might happen.”

“Always expect it.. I don't mean to be rude but you had your chance and wasted it. Come on, next time he comes up, do it. Or MRS will do it for you and take the lead.”

“It's all fun and games until we get spotted. You’ve seen what these Equine are capable of, and they have strikers above us. I don't want to risk getting into a fight with these guys. These cloaks aren't exactly the best defence when they do see us.”

“They won’t see us.”

“Always expect the --”

“Oh just shut up and shoot.”

The unicorn looks up

“Do it JAX.”

He aims to the ground just in front of the guard, and fires. Plan G is underway.

The bullet bounces from the dirt and strikes the unicorn down. It blasts a hole, throwing mud around everywhere. The sound of it all smuttering down on the wet brush muffles the T-klick! of grenade pins pulled. As all Equine look to the dirt, caught off all guard, the grenades are thrown right into the flanking pits unnoticed. FwPOOFF, The whole ground jumps, bodies are hurled from pits and flop down mangled. Panic breaks out, all out madness in fear of death grips the hearts of the Equines. They all scatter, thinking it comes from the air. They leap from the safety of cover, right into the prying eyes of Jax and MRS and are all cut down one by one.

Ss-thook, Ss-thook, Ss-thook.. Four, Five, Six.. Seven.

The entire ordeal is over in only eight seconds.

Seven Equine had bailed from the trench. Only two of them were unicorns. The rest were commons, completely unable to defend themselves in any way. The four scouts continue to lay in the mud. Jax scans around, slowly. His crosshairs trim the top of each trench. Nothing moves. Only twitching leaves. And nothing is heard, not a single voice or whimper calls out a cry. Only falling rain.

Jax looks up from his scope. Cold water splashes off it and sprinkles his face. Drops run down his cheeks. “Everyone feel safe? Everyone ready to move?” FMC says over the radio.

“Keep your guard up. There might be more.”

“I’m lookin for ‘em..”

A whole minute passes as they wait. They stay wary of some sort of counter set for them. But nothing happens.

“Nothings here. We’re clear to move on.”

“Alright. Everyone, back on your feet.”

They slowly rise, and continue their walk.

“How many was that?”

“I got five.” says Jax.

“Damn and I only got three.” MRS says, lowering his weapon. “What are our totals?”

JAX - 22
MRS - 19
FMC - 16
ROM - 14

“I guess that puts JAX in the lead then?” asks ROM.

“Yyyep.” MRS says, in all his competitiveness, feeling cheated. “I still got the highest total for the week.”

“Looks like you got some competition.”

“Oh shush. Ol’ Rookie over there needs to work on his aim. All those kills were sloppy.”

“Oh calm down.” Jax says, rolling his eyes.

“Alright boys, that’s enough.” FMC orders calmly. “ Keep your voices down. You all saw that wisp right? That little puff of light that flew out of the trench? That was a signal. There’s more nearby. We still have time to hit a few more places. Let’s get moving.”

They trudge quietly through the forest.

After some time spent walking, all of them relaxed as the examine the woods ahead, MRS speaks up. “I don’t know about you guys but I’m pretty beat. How far have we come since last night? 25 klicks?”

“Round about.”

“Phew. We’re not up to beat any kill count records today, but I’m pretty sure this has gotta be a record distance.”

“Yeah..” says Jax. “Things haven’t gone this smooth in a while.”

“I bet they’re running out of bullet sponges to throw at us. 17 in one day is pretty high.”

“We could have gotten more.” says ROM.

“How? That doesn’t even make any sense ROM. We’ve been movin’ at a pretty steady pace all day.”

“ROM’s right.” says FMC. “There’s always opportunity --” FMC gets traffic over his radio. “Hold on - This is Bravo 4, go ahead.”

The team stops. MRS continues talking. “All I’m sayin is, if we made it this far and only hit 17, if we went any faster we probably would have hit the same.”

“Coulda been 18.”

“Oh shut up, you know you’re just riding that FMC train.”

“It’s a good train to be on. The man knows his stuff.”

“You know what train I’m on?”

“What..”

“The most kills of the week train. Woo-woo!”

ROM and Jax both roll their eyes.

“Nah, I’m just kidding. JAX over there’s doing pretty damn good!”

“Thanks.. I guess.”

“What do you mean I guess?”

“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not.”

“No dude, I mean it. You’re a fantastic soldier. A real natural with that DSR.”

“..Thanks.”

“You know, I just can’t wait till this is finally over. I think I’ll open up a little juke joint right in the middle of town, once we finally get a chance to take a load off and settle in.”

“Well we’re already halfway across the continent.”

“Yep and things are only getting easier. What do you boys reckon? Two months left? Three?”

“Less than that, for sure.”

“Fuck, we might even run out of things to shoot before then.”

“Looks like it. We might have to resort to shooting each other.” ROM says, shooting a snide grin over at MRS.

“ROM, I swear. If you shoot me with that Arc Rifle.. I’m not gunna be too happy.”

“Won’t be too happy? You’ll be dead!”

“Then I’ll haunt your ass. Until you die, then I’ll kick your ass in the afterlife.”

“IF I die.”

“You’ll die.”

“And you know this?”

“Yeah! I already got 40 on you getting struck by lightning wings.”

“That’s fine. JAX and I both have 60 that you’ll blow yourself up.”

“I bet you do. Cocky bastards..”

FMC puts his hand mic away. “Welp. We got another mission boys.”

“Another mission? Like.. an actual actualmission? Or just a milk run?”

“A real one. As real as it gets. What’s that thing you keep saying, ROM?”

“Always expect the unexpected. Let me guess. They want us to lead the attack on some village?”

“Close. But not quite. Everyone, take a guess.”

Jax - “They’re reassigning us to an infantry division.”

MRS - “Everything we’ve killed came back from the dead and we have to kill them again.”

“Nope and nope. ROM was the closest. No guard shift for him tonight.”

“So what do they got for us?”

“Well. We got quite a big one on our hands. Apparently, one of our tanks has been hijacked and they made away with it.”

“They stole an entire tank?! Wow.. that’s a actually kind of impressive.”

“And guess whose job it is to get it back.”

All their faces drop, the mood turns sour.

“Oh no no no no, no.” MRS says, waving his hands. “You mean to tell me, that a tank’s been hijacked and we’re the only ones who can stop it?”

“Just about.”

“Why don’t they get some heavy weapons team on it? Or blast it from the sky? Why the fuck do they want us?”

“They want the tank back.” FMC takes a drink of his water. “And we’re the closest ones to it.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Mm-hmm.”

They all stare at each other in frustrated disbelief.

“Well, how are we gunna take it back?”

“We’ll have to do what we do best. Improvise.” FMC says.

“I can always use my Arc Rifle. Finally put it to use.” says ROM.

“The fuck is that gunna do against a tank?” barks MRS.

“Fry the electronics.”

“Yeah but at what range! You get close enough with that rifle and that tank’ll splatter you halfway across the planet!”

“It’s our best shot.”

“Yeah, sure it is. You try that. I’ll be sure to pick up what’s left of ya when I go to the beach on vacation.”

“Well what ideas do you have?”

“I don’t - we - HHRrmm.. Hey, Fully, what --”

“Looks like we have more boarding the Fully train.”

“Oh shut up ROM. Fully, How do we even catch up to one of those things?”

“We won’t have to. They’ve parked it just outside a small village to the north east.”

“Oh, great. So they’re already entrenched.”

“Not likely. But we should get a move on. It’ll be a rough day for the first wave if we don’t neutralize it.”

“What kind of tank even is it?”

“Vangaurd.”

“Damn that thing’s got like four machine guns on it.”

“Well let’s just hope they don’t know how to use them. Move out.”

The team carries on through the forest in silence. Their direction has changed, and so has their morale. As they walk, all think of ways they can take down the goliath beast they now hunt. A pack of four wolves, against prey they have never encountered before. No one is prepared, no one has been trained to fight or play against their own game. But it is their mission, they know they must not fail. In living for the greater good, the only way is forward.

The village is only three klicks from their last encounter, well within the engagement range of the Vanguard’s rail cannon. But the thickness of the forest keeps both the team and the tank hidden from each other. The Equine know this. Blocked by the canopy above, and surrounded by walls of drowning trees, they hope it will be enough as they take full advantage of their new tool. But they are not prepared to have to deal with the talents of Bravo Team. But, those four brave scouts are just as unready to deal with their own technology used against them.

They approach the village, now not more than a few hundred meters away. They can see the wooden shacks ahead of them, candles burning inside, glowing through the windows as the evening light fades. But no sign of the tank. Now only 500 meters away, they all drop to their bellies, and begin the arduous crawl forward. They remain invisible to any wandering eyes.

“Okay. The village is just up ahead. Anyone see it yet?” MRS says over the team radio.

“I see it.” says ROM. It’s all the way right, just beside the rightmost building.”

“I don’t have a shot. Damn trees.. See anyone around it?”

Rom carefully scans the entire front line of the village. Through his advanced thermals, he sees nothing. All ahead is cold and wet, nothing but blue to his electric eye. But he does see the warm, yellow glow of the engine as it cools. He studies the tank. He looks to every minor detail for anything out of place. The four broad tracks, one at each of it’s corners, lay still. The track pads are full of forest debris. He looks to the remote operated rotary cannons, one mounted above each track. They are unloaded, no belts of ammo feed into their hungry chambers. The twin rails of the main cannon point away, aiming up and to the right. “Nothing. I see nothing. It’s powered down. It looks like they just pulled it in and left.”

“Keep your wits about you, boys.” FMC says calmly. “They might be hiding inside, using it for shelter.”

“What do they even want a Vanguard for.. These things are only good on the open plains!.. So how we gunna do this?” asks MRS.

“ROM you said it’s shut off?”

“Roger.”

“Okay. Here’s the plan. ROM, I want you right in front of it. If things go south, hit it with the Arc. JAX, you take the right flank, I’ll take the left. MRS, give us overwatch. JAX and I will get up close and take out the crew inside. Keep us covered until we figure out how to get this thing outta here.”

“You ever drive a tank before, Fully?”

“No, never.”

“Looks like you gon’ learn today Boss.”

“We’ll all learn something. And these Equine are about to learn why they should never steal from us.”

“They steal our hardware, we steal their lives. A fair trade.”

“Move out.”

Jax, ROM, and FMC all begin their slow approach. On their knees and elbows, they take it inch by inch. Meanwhile, MRS positions himself with a wide view through the endless walls of rotting wood. The storm, as heavy as it ever has been throughout the last few days, finally calms down. Hardly any rumbling. Only the tiny drips and pips as tears of the sky roll from the canopy above.

The bodeful night creeps in. The team’s approach is long, but silent. They have seen no activity, or any indication at all of Equine ahead. Nothing has come out of or entered the leviathan. They begin to think that, as the night sets and the unspoken truce begins, that their enemy has closed their weary eyes for the night. A perfect opportunity to sneak in and reclaim what is theirs.

“Alright I got a good angle.” MRS informs the team. “How far are you all from the target?”

“300 meters. Still got a ways to go.” ROM replies in a whisper.

“Damn you guys are slow..”

“We’re not slow. We’re just not as brash as you.”

Suddenly, activity in the tank causes the whole team to stop dead where they lie. They all hear it. The monstrous turbine engine powers up, its deep whirring climbs in pitch as the turbines spool into action. The turret snaps hard to the left, aiming straight down with an unending gaze right to MRS.

“Shit. They’ve turned it on.” ROM says.

“Well no shit.” Jax replies in frustrated surprise.

“Hey guys..?” MRS says faintly. “I don't like this. It’s looking right at me.”

The team is stunned. They are unsure as they look around to each other, all sharing the same thought. No one is sure what will happen next.

“MRS just keep low. Just hope they don’t actually see you.” says Jax.

“I don’t know man, they’re lookin’ right at me!”

“Fully - They can’t see us with those optics, can they?” Jax asks, fearing that now, all their lives are in danger.

“I don’t know. I’ve never fought against our own equipment before.”

“Fuck what do I do!” MRS says frantically.

No one has any words.

“Just.. Hold on, M.”

All begin to shiver, wrought with the chilling wet, and anxious terror.

MRS’s mouth quivers uncontrollably. “I.. I don’t see any of them.”

“Everyone just stay still! It looks like they might know how to use it. But if they saw us they would have fired already.”

“M you’re fine. We won’t let them hurt you.”

“I don’t know man.” MRS is on the verge of a teary breakdown. “I’m lookin’ right at it, I see straight down the rails.” He stares with his unaided eyes right between the main cannon’s twin rails. He sees the soft blue glow of the electromagnetic coils. They are primed, powered, and ready to fire. But the tension builds. Confusion amongst the scouts grows as still nothing happens.

“Move.” FMC says, his voice low and calm.

“What-!” MRS’s voice comes out in a strained whisper.

“Move. Get behind a tree. Find any sort of cover you can. Just try to get out of their line of sight.”

MRS remains petrified. He still stares right down the rails as he struggles to make sense of the order. But he reaches out with his left hand, slowly pulling himself to the nearest cover. He keeps his jittering rifle aimed towards the beast that continues to stare him down. Left hand, left foot.. Pull. Left hand, left foot.. Pull.

Inch by inch, he slowly skirts away and towards cover.

ROM studies the tank. He notices the turret tracking MRS’s movement. “Stop, stop!” he whispers hard.

“What!”

“They definitely see you.”

“Fuck!”

“M?” says FMC.

“Fuck man!”

“M. Keep, moving.” His voice is soft and fatherly.

“I can’t!”

“Yes, you can. Just keep moving, get out of its line of sight.”

MRS keeps stuttering sideways. He jerks and twitches as dread tears his insides apart.

The turret keeps tracking. Like an all seeing eye, it follows him as he squirms closer and closer to cover.

The other three watch it all unfold, their eyes darting back and forth. They silently urge him on, their whispers of cowed support in his headset. It keeps him going, and with one pull at a time, he comes closer to safety.

BZZZRRRT The cannon fires. Louder than the strongest thunder, its deep electric growl shatters the forest. The blast is so powerful, everyone drops their weapons, hugging the ground as all that fills their heads is that horrifying pulse. The shockwave of the round’s blasting impact punches them. Air is kicked right out of their chests. Their ears ring, their vision is blurred. They have no thoughts. Not a single voice pops into their minds, as all they know to do is curl up and cover their heads. But as the echoes fade, their heads clearing and the thrown up ground ceasing to rain, they look to MRS. But he is gone. There is nothing but a black, ovoid crater in his place.

“Nobody fucking move!” FMC yells. The turret holds in place, as the crew inside takes time to reload.

Hidden within the village, dozens of Equine charge into the woods. With the humans suppressed, now’s their time to assault. Three Unicorns lead, spreading out with the hoard that follows them. They all hold layer after layer of shielding as they blindly gallop into the fray, protecting all the Common Equine behind them.

The crew inside the tank dismounts, using their bought time to load the machine guns.

“Open fire!”

The scouts hold their ground. They fire right into the shield. FMC with his automatic rifle, Jax with his scout rifle and ROM with a light assault rifle. But now the Equine know exactly where they are. The shield bearers split up, diverting the oncoming fire. The humans hold, but their weapons cannot break the thick wards.

As he fires, Jax glances to the tank. The machine guns are loaded, and the crew return to load the main cannon. He knows they have to get some distance, they have to get away from that tank!

“Fall back!” he yells, the impenetrable wall of brightly glowing wards approaching ever closer. They all dash in retreat with good timing. All the tank’s rotary cannons open up and tear into the forest. The bullets fly right over the advancing Equine, covering them further. They all charge, vocals on high as their fueled rage propels them forward fearlessly.

The bullets zip by the scouts, feeling like buzzing bees stinging their eardrums. They crack and scratch all through the trees, splinters flying everywhere and limbs falling.

But the humans, their bodies larger and their muscles stronger, quickly outrun the Equine in tow. “Phantom, Bravo 4, Bravo 4! Need immediate suppression at my location now!” FMC fills them in on the situation as he runs.

Within seconds they can already hear the gaining roar of the Phantom jets. Their throttles open, afterburners at full, blasting them through the air as they rush to the rescue. The scouts drop, they know what’s coming. But they look on with their heads covered as the glowing walls come their way.

The jets are already on them. The entire world around the scouts seemingly erupts into the apocalypse. The turrets below each jet decimate the Equine charge. Their lines break, and they all dive for safety.

The scouts pick off stragglers as they try and hide. But several of them make it, and they know they have to get in close with the humans to avoid another reign of terror from above. As the dust settles, they charge once again. Some of them behind the returning shield, many of them in the open but using the trees.

They’ve gained the ground, they now swarm the humans in brutal battle of hands and hooves. Each scouts faces a dozen at a time, all are too overwhelmed to help each other. The Equine topple the humans, and with all their might do what they can to keep the giants down. But the humans fight back hard, many times too strong for the delicate creatures. Knives and fists swinging, hooves clash against metal, there is no clear winner in the epic struggle. The two races couldn’t be more different. There is no compassion. Neither look to the other and see a single shred of sympathy . Each one views the other as soulless, evil, and savage. There is no honor, there is no care for the other. Only the fight to kill as fervent rage blinds all. In the brawl, ROM takes a direct hit, pierced through the chest by a stray bullet. But he keeps on. Though mortally wounded, he puts out no less of his raw strength. FMC appears to be winning, but just as he gains the upper hand, magic throws him up and slams him down. The Equine on him back off, and a single magic bearer knocks down the trees to crush him. He dodges one after another, rolling in the mud as he struggles to get on his feet. But each falling tree sends him diving again and again.

Jax fights on, swinging his rifle like a bat, dodging bolts left and right. His reflexes are too quick, the Equine can’t get close enough to pin him down. Though he himself cannot fire back, he gracefully dodges all that come at him in a dance of offense and defence.

All of this happens while the Phantom jets rip by for a seconds pass. But they cannot fire, as they cannot pick friend from foe in the mosh below. The circle overhead, banking their wings as they orbit. The pilots urge the scouts to gain distance but all efforts are for not. The gunners start pounding the ground around them, hoping to suppress all to give their comrades a chance. And it works. The Equine charge breaks yet again as they are forced to run for cover. It gives Jax and FMC a chance to finally stand and fire. They look in all directions now surrounded, taking potshots at whatever they see. ROM lays on the ground. His wounds are too great, but he raises his weapon and fires back nonetheless. They all keep this up, the struggle seems endless. But ROM’s strength slowly fades. Despite his heroics, he is gunned down where he lay. All it takes are a few quick blasts to finish him off.

High in the clouds above, Pegasis have been hiding and watching it all unfold. They’ve been waiting for their moment to strike. But it’s not the humans they’re after. They seek to destroy the Thunderbirds. “ATTACK!” they all yell in unison, diving straight down from high sitting clouds. Their wings beating, speed gaining, they descend on the jets like arrows from space. Shock cones forming, they all push faster, almost breaching the speed of sound. They aim for the jets as they fly. They come careening right through their formation. Many miss, but a few punch straight through the thin wings. The unseen blindside devastates the jets. Phantom Lead spirals out of control, his entire left wing ripped completely off. He and his gunner crash in through the trees and smash into the ground in a great ball of fire. The jet cartwheels for hundreds of meters, knocking over all in its path with a wall of flames following. It passes right behind the tank. The bright orange flare and plumbing smoke silhouettes the tank. The humans look on to that black hulk shrouded in flames. Suddenly it becomes real. That behemoth figure of darkness, black against the burning, raging light. They realize at the very moment what it must feel to be the Equine. They now look at what tens of thousands have seen as their last vision.

The other jet takes heavy damage but keeps control. The crew bug out, their harbinger of death from above too injured to keep up the fight. Pegasi follow, desperate to finish it off. But they come too close. The throttle mouths opens wide, spewing out flames as the jet blasts away, blowing the Pegasi right out of the sky.

Voices cheer at the downed bird, and thick smoke smogs what little sunlight was left. The fiery fuel turns the battlefield into dark night, illuminated only in heat and glow. The fight rages back on, no holds are barred. It is savage, nasty, and brutal. The two remaining scouts soon overpower their rivals. They are too quick, too strong, and too well trained. All they use are knifes. They jump from Equine to Equine, blades driving and cutting deep. A retreat is soon sounded, and what few Equine remain all dash back to safety near the tank. Finally the two have a chance to catch their breath as they fire at the fleeing hooves. But they don’t aim, both are too shaken, their minds and bodies too unnerved to shoot straight.

They finally stop, no more of their enemy in sight. But the battle isn’t over. They don’t get a moment to think or plan as the tank becomes mobile. Heading straight for them, flattening all in its way as if nothing was there. Jax and FMC look on at the beast, feeling outwitted. This defence was too well coordinated. Now, with half of their close knit team out of action, they no longer see victory in sight. Only survival. There is no backing out, no retreat. They’re only objective now is to somehow endure against the metal monster steamrolling towards them.

Jax looks to ROM, unaware of his death. In his weary haze, he barely makes sense that his brother, his friend, is now gone from life. But he sees a tool where he lay. It’s the only chance they have left. The Arc Rifle lay out in the open. Jax knows what he must do.

But he has to avoid the Vanguard on approach. With a clear mind and a sight-set goal, he makes a run for it.

The roaming eyes of the turret gunners spot him. As soon as they open fire, Jax comes back to his senses. He drops, barely any cover, and crawls behind a tree with bullets flying all around. It’s right there, the Arc Rifle is just a few meters away. But if he moves, it’s curtains. The second he falls from cover, he knows he will be cut down.

FMC lays as well, thinking and waiting. He feels beaten. He ponders and plans, but sees no way out. He quietly admits his own defeat. He had come so far, made it through so much, and thought he had seen it all. But now, two of his children lay dead, and a third on his way, and all his calm collective is lost.

Jax stares down the rifle. It lay just next to where ROM made his final stand. It seems so close, just out of reach. It wouldn’t take him more than a moment to reach it. He wants it. All rational thought leaves his mind. He must get that weapon.

He looks around the tree’s trunk. In an instant, the thumping cannon send a burst right at his face. A round blasts to the ground right beside his head. All that it uproots flies right in his eyes. For a moment he lay grovelling, wiping his eyes of all that mud and grass. But he feels no fear, all rationale is absent. He’s going to do it, he knows it’s the only chance to survive and he must take the risk. It’s the only way forward.

Jax steadies his nerves, coming to his feet behind the dense tree. The tank is still rolling, he can feel it battering the ground. He takes a few deep breaths. He becomes calm. All feeling leaves his body. His back against the tree, the rifle off to his left. He slowly creeps right, just enough that his shoulder peeks out of cover. But this move is merely bait. The second those ravenous guns fire, he bolts left out of cover. Tunnel vision blinds him, all he sees is the rifle. The immense rounds fly by, missing as the gunners must abruptly adjust their fire. Jax makes the run, all his strength into his striding legs and swinging arms. One round almost brushes his nose as the lead gunner throws his aim too far. But Jax doesn’t even see it. He dives down to the ground, clutching the rifle to his chest and he slides to a stop. The endless spray buzzes his neck. He hugs down as tight as he humanly can, and then more. He completely drops all senses as all he can think is “Don’t get hit! Don’t get hit! For the love of all things good, please don’t get hit!”

The world falls quiet. The pounding guns fall silent in unison. He hears nothing, and sees nothing. But he feels something cold and hard in his chest. Something wet soaks through his shirt. His eyes open. He looks around. He finds all as it should be. Looking inwards at himself, he sees the Arc Rifle. It’s body, drenched with mud and slush, sticks to his chest under his locked muscles. There it is. He did it. He has it.

The hungry guns have finally run out of ammo.

Jax looks over his shoulder. The Vanguard is still rolling through the trees. But as the guns have ceased, he sees his chance. He readies the rifle, but he must be point blank with his target for the weapon to have any effect. He stands, not even a tremor of terror as he stares down the goliath. All the he feels now is, it’s time to get down to business. It’s time to end this fight.

He walks forward, the tank now just 100 meters to his front left. Towers of timbers falling in its wake. Jax looks to it, his face scrunched with anger.

The rail cannon turns to look at him, the crew has finally loaded the titanic projectile. But Jax braves on unaware. He is now within the crucial 50 meter distance. As those two long rails, powered up and glowing look straight at him, he drops to a knee, steadies his aim, and fires.

A thunderous blast of dense lightning streaks from the tesla weapon. It’s blinding light flashes for only an instant, but its angry roar of raw electric power echoes for eternity. The strike finds its mark, right to the Vanguard’s front left track. It’s volatile heat melts rubber and metal alike. It fries all wired connections that keep it rolling. The entire track seises up, the tank jolts and it careens hard to the left. The cannon fires, missing Jax as the whole thing turns on a dime. They driver slams on the breaks, knowing he’s lost control. But the gunner swings back on target. Jax, dazed from the blast, fires again. He hits the turret. A storm of sparks explode off its metal skin. But the beast remains still. He fires again and again, lightning strike after lightning strike. The tank shutters and sputters as the driver tries to get it moving. But the barrage of electric thunder is too much. Jax keeps firing. The engine overblows. All tracks screech to a slow, grinding halt and the beast comes to a groaning stop.

The engine finally dies. It’s loud whining spools down from a blare, to a cry, to a whisper, and then to nothing. Smoke gently floats up from all openings. It’s finally dead. The tank has been stopped.

But there’s still the crew inside to deal with.

FMC sees his chance. He finally comes out of cover and clambers onto the tank. The hatch was left unlocked, and he opens it with his side arm at theready. He doesn’t even open it all the way, he lifts it just enough to fit his pistol through and opens fire. Five rounds, all in quick succession. He throws the hatch open, still firing. He doesn’t aim, he’s still too shaken and he just fires indiscriminately at those inside. The tank was built for four humans, but FMC is now laying in on 14 screaming Equine.

He fires every last round in his magazine. He takes a moment to reload, but a huge blast of energy erupts straight up out of the hatch. Jax sees it. He thinks it has killed his leader, but it was merely a grazing blow. FMC continues to reload, his cloak torn and his chest black and burned.

As he put his pistol to action once more, a streaking pegasus swoops in. It slams right into his chest, throwing his limp body far from the turret’s top. His back slams against a tree, and he falls from high to the ground.

Jax watches him fall. But he tries to track the swooping striker as they streak away, but they are too quick. While he waits for a second strike, the heavy rains once again returns as it always has. But the pegasis does not return. They have gone and joined the others in the clouds, to quell the inferno that now rages.

Jax runs to FMC. As he makes his way, the few uninjured crew leave the tank and escape into the village.

“Fully!” Jax yells, stooping down to lift his back. “Fully, are you alright!”

“I’m fine - Just got the wind knocked outta me - that’s all.”

Jax fearfully looks to the skies. Another one could come down at any moment. There has to be some place to hide. But with all these fallen trees, and with so many wings still looming above, he has no chance by staying outside. He carries FMC towards the village, seeking refuge in the first house they come to. A little over half way, FMC drops to walk on his own, not wanting to let his veritable son have to haul him all that way. They limp together, always keeping an eye on the sky until they finally reach the first wooden shack.

They both lean against it, listening… Nothing, they hear no one inside. But there’s no door on their side either. Jax peeks around the corner. He sees no one. The village seems empty, though both scouts know this is not true. The Equine want to keep themselves hidden just as much as the humans do. Neither want another battle to ensue.

Just around the corner is the door. Once again, Jax leans against the wall to listen.. Nothing. No voices, no hoofsteps, no noise. Only pouring rain. He pushes open the door, weapon drawn. He sees no one inside. There is only a dark, empty room. The floor is made of mud and straw. No furniture and no ownership. A perfect place to hide and wait out the storm until morning.

Both settle in. FMC collapses, but crawls and props himself against the wall. “It’s finally over.” He says, his voice croacked from his wounds.

“It’s not over yet. They’re probably coming for us, or thinking of some way to ambush and finish us off right now!”

“Keep your voice down. They don’t know we’re here.”

Jax sits down, opposite of FMC.

“It’s finally over JAX.”

“Almost. I.. Can’t believe we did it.”

“Not that.”

“What?”

“I mean for me. They’ll probably retire me now. I’m old, I’m injured, and I’m tired. When the first wave catches up tomorrow, it’ll be the end of my journey. And what a journey it was.”

Jax isn’t sure what to say.

“I did what I could..” FMC goes on to say, his mood down now the things have settled. He looks to Jax with a bout of sorrow. “.. But I failed you. And I failed your brothers.”

“You didn’t fail us. You got us in and out of so much! I doubt we could have gotten a better team leader.”

“I promised the three of you, I would make sure that all of you would make a home here one day. But.. Now there’s only one of us left. You. I’m done for. I’m not worth the time I’ve devoted anymore.”

“But Fully --”

“Promise me something JAX. You’re going to be put in a new squad. You might even see yourself finish this out in a different theatre. But promise me you’ll keep going. You’ll continue to see evils you never thought possible. These Equine are just as dark and merciless as we are. But our two evils can’t coexist. One must be destroyed so the other can become good once more. Keep fighting JAX. Rid the world of evil, do everything you can for the greater good. So that we can finally end our own suffering. I might as well be dead. Consider this my dying wish.”

“I will do what I must.”

“You’ll live here someday, and you won’t need to fight anymore. But until then, keep going. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other. At times, when you run into moments like today - they’re only going to keep happening as they get smarter - just remember these words. No one comes this far only to come this far. There’s always a way to keep moving forward. The only impossible task, is the one you never begin.”

“It won’t be easy.. Not without your guidance.”

“I’m not here to tell you anything’s going to be easy. I’m only here to tell you everything you do will be worth it.”

There’s a pause.

“It was Commandos by the way.” FMC says as he tends to his wounds.

“What?”

“Commandos. That’s how I got out of that mess we were talking about earlier. They found a stray unicorn wondering the streets who just happened to know where I was, and they rescued me.”

A door across the room opens. In with the pouring rain, blinded in the dark, walks a lone earth pony. “Dandy Lion? Dandy, you in here? It’s me, Junebug.” She lights a candle.

Now they all see each other. All three freeze. The pony stares at the humans, who return their gaze just as unnerved.

Jax immediately tackles the intruder.

“Close the door!”

Kush!

The candle falls to the floor, but remains lit.

The pony falls to heavy tears, her mouth held shut in a muzzled grip. She does not fight. She only struggles to plea for mercy as Jax clasps around her from behind.

“What should we do with her?” asks Jax. A mild panic sets within him as he fears the commotion has given them away.

“Kill her.”

The pony now screams in muffled cries as she struggles to break free.

“But.. why? She can’t do anything to us. We could let her go.”

“You sit, having two of your brothers killed, and now you want to let them go?”

“She can’t do us any harm.”

“We can’t let her go. Soon as she gets out, she’ll let every last one of them know we’re here.”

FMC slides a knife across the floor. “Do it quick. Do it quiet. I’m sorry, Jax.”

Jax wields the knife, the point held right to her gut. But all the while, Jax looks to FMC with hesitation. “No.” he says, shaking his head. All his built up pain for their endless slaughter finally takes over his mind. “This, this isn’t right.”

“But it is necessary. We’re in her home, and now she needs to leave so we can stay. It’s a perfect metaphor for this whole ordeal.”

Both Jax and the pony look to each other. She sees that spite of hope in his worried eyes. And Jax looks into hers. He has never been so close to one before. Never seen that look of sorrow as her windowed soul speaks to his in a familiar voice. She sees his good, and tries to talk with her eyes so it might prevail.

“We should keep her as a prisoner.” says Jax.

“We can’t. It’s not our job to take them in. Those whose job it is have stopped for the night. It makes no difference who guides her to the end. If not you, then it will be someone else. But unfortunately for her, her number’s up already.”

“But --”

“No Jax. I’m sorry, I know it hurts. But you have to do it. Remember what I told you, and what you promised me.”

“I - can’t. It’s not right. We should let her go!”

“I can’t let you do that JAX.” FMC says as he pulls his sidearm from its holster. “If you let her go, she’ll have to catch one of these. It’s loud, and everyone will know we’re here, but if I have to use it I will. Now, do you want to make it out of here alive or not?”

Jax keeps his fretful gaze to FMC. The knife quivers just above the crying pony’s heart. Jax knows what must be done. But, despite all the running thoughts, he keeps himself at a pause.

“I.. Can’t”

“Yes you can. She’s no different than the others. Do it JAX, or you might be on the receiving end as well.”

The knife pokes just into her skin. Jax breathes heavy, his nerves shot. He looks into those wide, fearful eyes one more time. She still struggles and pleas beneath his vice. But Jax calms himself. Staring right down into those hazel eyes, he does it.

One last gasp. Her last breath bursts through his fingers. Her eyes roll back, the light of her life blows out cold. She falls limp in his arms. But now, with such a close, emotional encounter, all of Jax’s quiet guilt reaches a fever pitch. He saw those thriving eyes, he saw her soul and in it he saw himself. How far must this go? How much more must he endure, just to have a home?

The crying skies continue to let fall their weeping tears, all over the wooden top of the quiet shack. Not a voice is heard, not a rumble nor whisper. Only that dripping, dropping, dabbling beat.. of the rainy music set in spring.