"You still haven't told me what this unit's combat role is. Should I be afraid?" I asked sarcastically.

Captain Shining Armor shook his head, "I still can't believe I'm having a conversation with a human."

I snorted, "I can say the same damn thing as you in reverse, Captain. It's hard for me to believe what used to be a stupid, unintelligent beast of burden on my world is as good as any fucking human on my planet, and that humans here make rocks look smarter than a shit ton of scientists."

"Ugh, now I know what I sound like, only with more curse words." He slapped his forehead with a hoof.

"Want more? I'm practically the dictionary of swearing fuckers out."

He stopped dead in his tracks just to rear up on his hind legs, put his hoof on my mouth, just to yell, "NO! None of that!"

Swiping his hoof away, "Get your hooves the hell out of my face! God only knows what you've stepped in!"

He slammed back to all four hooves again, scowling, "Hey! I will have you know that I clean hooves on a regular basis!"

I shrugged, "I clean my ass religiously, but would you like me shoving it in your face? The answer is no. Just because you clean something consistently, doesn't mean it'll stay clean inbetween cleanings. It gets dirty with each use. Just like a weapon."

He groaned in irritation, "I hope you're as good a soldier as Celestia says you are, otherwise this will just be worthless."

"Yes yes, I'll do fine as one of your Recon/Raider/Commando hybrids. If I end up fighting using more skill and strength rather than blind luck and shitty overcomplicated strategy, I'll be more than fine." I waved him off. Ok, I know ponies are either crazy as hell or ultra grounded in reality, but this guy, seems like he created a new category. The hell do I call it?

After a little more inner monologue on what I should call this guy, we finally reached a nondiscript barrack, the sound of a skirmish coming from inside.

Shining Armor growled, "What in Tartarus are they fighting over now!?" He sprinted to the door, and kicked it open! What the fuck is wrong with him? You don't just kick them with all your force! Open it hard but in control, then slam it against the wall. Come on dude. That's angry entrance 1-0-1.

Shining Armor dashed inside, and I followed. Not because I wanted to follow him, oh no. I wanted to see the ponies fighting each other. It makes me feel satisfied watching them bicker.

Inside, it was a clusterfuck. Bunks were toppled, blankets and mattresses thrown to every corner of the room. Footlockers had been busted open, contents equally thrown about. Then there were the ponies in various positions of locking up limbs and necks in uncomfortable positions. By far, however, the weirdest part of this whole debacle was the ponified curse words. Buck you, Horse-apples, Feather Jewels, and other incoherent grunts and growls. That was just fucking funny.

Shining Armor, in all his intellect of a cabbage, dove into the fray, trying to split up the ponies. Like that was going to accomplish anything.

Unfortunately for me, I had to help him. As much as I wanted to see him and the other ponies kick each other's teeth in, I wanted this done as soon as possible to get back to Raindrop at the hospital. I've known this guy for all of an hour, and already I'm solving his problems.

I sighed internally, ramped up my bionics, and bellowed with the intensity of a bomb, "OFFICER ON DECK!"

Immediately, like I had performed magic myself, everyone in the room untangled themselves, and came to attention, only to look around for the speaker. Because obviously, no pony would ever suspect a human. Except Shining. He was on the floor, eyes spinning like a fan.

"Agh, fuck! Dumbass probably has a concussion." I groaned as I approached him. I grabbed his muzzle in one hand, and held up three fingers, "Yo, whitey, how many fingers am I holding up?"

He managed to regain control of his eyes long enough to mutter, "Sileven."

"What's your name?"

"Shining Plothole." He struggled to say. I heard some snickering, but didn't address it.

"Alright, that's enough." I helped him stand, and guided him over to a bed, "Rest here. I'll take care of the introductions for you."

He muttered what sounded like a thank you, then promptly went to sleep. If I had been born in the 90's, I would've tried to keep him awake for the next 24 hours. But since I'd grown up later than that, I was blessed to know that actually did more damage. Sleep was important to someone who had received a concussion.

I turned around to see every single soldier gaping in awe at me. I decided to take a better approach with them than most.

"When he wakes up, he tripped and hit his head on a footlocker. Got it? You were sparring, and he tripped and fell." I say with my best commanding tone.

One of the soldiers, a mare, tilted her head, "But that's not what happened. Why should we lie?"

I pinched my nose, groaning at how dense they were. Didn't they know how much trouble they could be in? "Becaauuse, if they learn he got hurt during your fight, you could all be court martialed and sent to prison for assaulting an officer. That's why you need to lie! I ain't having my new unit be immediately thrown into prison." I glared at them, and I could visibly see them shiver, "As soon as we get bumblefuck here to the infirmary, we're gonna have a talk about this."

A few of them looked like they wanted to argue, but a poisonous glare shut them up. I grabbed the frame of one side of the bed, and lifted it. My arms had no issue with lifting it. Neither did my legs withstanding the weight. My back strained, as did the joints where the prosthetics were joined to my body. But fuck it. Pain means nothing once your pushed past it, and this was just mild discomfort.

"Alright, let's get this over with. One of you needs to come with me to confirm the story."

*10 minutes later*

I couldn't believe it. They took him in, no questions asked. They didn't even bat an eye at the unconscious form of Officer McStupid. They just put him in a new bed and dismissed us. I couldn't get my head around it.

"I mean seriously! No questions? That's a huge security risk! What if some Minotaurs got in and roughed up the place?"

"It's... really not that big a deal. Ponies get concussions all the time around here. Ugh, this is why it's so hard to get along with stallions. Always fretting over the small details." The mare complained.

I looked at her like I hadn't truly understood what she said, "Sexism aside, I'm still serious. A report should be made, even if it's bullshit."

All she did was grunt as we reached the barracks where we started. In our absence, the others had cleaned up nicely. Nothing was out of place, but they were giving each other some dirty looks.

While my companion took a seat on what I assumed was her bed, I remained.

"So what, in all that is Holy, was the fight about?" I growl.

Of the four ponies, the only stallion there, pointed at the mare who came with me to the infirmary, "She said that stallions have no right to be in the Guard because we're too weak and let our emotions control our actions!"

I stood there, dumbfounded. This sounded like one those straw man arguments from back home during... pre-90's?- only it being reversed on guys. None of it ever made any sense to me, so I stayed out of the whole argument. Good way to not piss off anybody, obstaining.

I put my face in my hands, groaning, "So you proved her right by getting pissed and starting a fight? Dude, that is incredibly dumb. You just gave her more evidence that proves her point." I groaned again, "Get a hold of your damned emotions before it gets you killed. And you," I turned to the mare who'd started the whole debacle, "Watch your mouth. I'm sure that there are plenty of guys who are steely eyes realists, and mares who are anything but. Judge the individual, not the group and all that shit. But props to you for leaving the situation after it was stopped." I sat down on an unoccupied bed, just wondering how I managed to get myself in this unit in the first place.

"You two. Please. For fucks sake, tell me that you were trying to break it up. I need some good news right now."

They both nodded, "Thank you. Well, now that business is over, thank God, let's get on with introductions. I'm Lance Corporal Scott Schneider, AKA Achilles. I specialize in fighting any number of combatants up to 20, and can use most non-magical weapons currently being used by the Equestrian military. Any questions?"

Four hooves went up. This... this is gonna hurt isn't it?

*Half an hour later*

My brain. Hurt. A lot. The questions asked were so simple and stupid it made me want to puke. How can I talk? Who taught me? Where did I come from (got a good reaction out of that)? What do you eat? Yadda yadda yadda.

I finally stopped the whole thing, "I need a drink. Know any good bars around here?"

"You drink? I thought alcohol destroys human livers?" One of the mares, Kindle, asked.

"EQUESTRIAN humans might take to liquor like a fish to dry land, but I'm not from Equestria. My liver is basically the champ when it comes to alcohol, and I've been blessed with a high tolerance. Come on, I haven't had a good drinking spree in years. I'll buy."

They looked at each other, smiling like kids who just got told school had been cancelled. But the mare who'd insulted the stallion, who went by the name Bristle (go figure), decided to ask one. More. Question.

"We'll tell you about a great military bar, but first, what's up with your arms? That looks like some really tight armor."

I slumped a little. Not enjoying the prospect of reliving old memories, "It isn't armor, just really complicated prosthetics." I pulled up a pant leg, revealing the mechanical limb. Their eyes, all of them, turned to pinpricks, their ears flattening.

"This is the price I paid in the war on my planet. I lost my legs, my arms, eyes, my hearing and my voice. Not to mention the clusterfuck in my torso."

The stallion, Steadfast, stepped forwards, and felt the metal, watched as I flexed the fingers and turned my wrist 360 degrees.

"How could this have happened to you?" He asked, sounded genuine.

"Some other time. For now, let's go get shit faced!" That earned a little cheer.

They took me outside castle grounds, down a street, and into "The Sword and Shield" Tavern. Not exactly a creative name, but I didn't care. As long as they had booze.

Inside was depressing. There was no music, and was full of mares and stallions who were still bandaged up from recent engagements. They were all slumped over their drinks, few talking.

I turned to Bristle, "I thought you said this was a great place to drink. Not a sorrows tavern."

She actually looked pretty surprised, like she hadn't expected this, "It was. Usually there's music, and laughs, ponies playing darts and drinking games. Not... this. It doesn't even look like anypony has picked up that guitar in ages."

She said the keyword. Guitar. I hadn't held one in three years, and hearing that word made me realize that. I now had an unbelievably powerful desire to play. "Guitar? What guitar?"

She pointed off to the one empty area towards the front. There it was. A black electric guitar. And it was beautiful. I went to the bar, got a bottle of beer, and went to the stage.

I got the strap over my head, chugged the beer, and started playing "Rock you like a Hurricane" by the Scorpions. It was a good song to start with when there was no base or drums, and it got the crowds' attention fast. And if they weren't paying attention to me when I started playing, they certainly did once they heard me singing that higher pitched voice.

Halfway through, I realized that the sound of drums and bass were present, but not the instruments. It baffled me, but plenty of things about this planet confused me. Better to not pay attention to it.

When the song was over, I got cheers, stomping of hooves, and a few whistles. But I wasn't done yet. It just felt too good playing the guitar and seeing all those happy faces. I played "Halo on Fire" by Metallica, "Out of Hell" by Skillet, "Soldiers" by Otherwise, and a few others I forgot.

By the time I was done, there wasn't a single downtrodden looking pony in the whole building. I wormed my way to the bar itself, and ordered some drinks. Once I had them (beer for the ponies, and a bottle of something called apple whiskey that was 80 proof for me) and found my little squad.

"Let me guess, songs from you're world?" Star Gazer, the last mare in the squad, asked.

"Yep. I know more, just that these songs seemed a bit more, eh, appropriate for the setting. Now drink up."

*Three hours later*

We were all blasted. I couldn't tell how drunk we all were until Bristle and Steadfast started kissing. I slapped myself to make sure I was seeing it right. Not that hard, mind you. Just enough to hurt.

Right now, I was getting them back to the barracks. Kindle was so drunk she couldn't walk so I carried her, Steadfast and Star Gazer were leaning on each other, and Bristle was stumbling along trying to maintain her balance. We got into the Castle with no problem. Somehow. Would've thought the gate guards would have something to say about that.

I got them all into bed, and remembered something. Raindrop. I was supposed to see her in the hospital. I cursed to myself, and sprinted off to the hospital she was staying at. Ponies stared at me. Some with fear, others with confusion, and others still who didn't care.

When I reached the hospital, I burst through the doors, stumbled up the stairs until I reached her floor, and found her room. I wasn't lying when I said I had a high tolerance for alcohol.

Inside, was Raindrop. She was awake again, and looking at me with the most bemused expression, "You're late."

Panting, I choked out, "Sorry. Got caught up with my new unit. Crazy bastards. So how you doing?"

Author's Note

Ok, got a chapter out. And it's only been... 8 months?!!? Fuck me. I know my job has been taking up a lot of time but... 8 months. I feel like an asshole. Sorry