Bullseye sighed quietly in contentment. Four long years, four long years it has been. Four years since bullets weren't flying overhead, ready and waiting to kill him and his brothers. The trenches had been difficult enough, but then it was the southern changeling rainforest. That was a different kind of warfare, and one that never let him sleep soundly.
But now, it was through, he was through. No longer did he have to worry about being shot or stabbed or caught in a trap. He didn't have to worry about ambush anymore, he didn't have to worry about anything, not now. No, now he dozed as the train chugged along, not quite asleep, not quite awake. But at least he didn't have nightmares, not today, not yet.
Bullseye was a heavy built stallion, his broad shoulders and thick arms having been chiseled into perfect shape by the years of training and exercise, and his features marred in a few places by the many injuries he had received during active duty. He was an earth pony with dark brown coat, his attire was a pair of green cargo pants and a camo shirt. He had a soldier's cap on his head, the front pulled low as was standard soldier's uniform with such hats.
He dozed, and the longer he dozed the closer to sleep he got, that meant flashes, memories, gunfire, smoke, blood. He heard automatic weapons firing, stallions and mares alike screaming in bitter agony as they were filled with bullets and shrapnel, and a voice shouting orders, his voice. It was clear as it was the day they were given.
"Weapons free! Get him to the chopper, go go!"
He fired his weapon, the weapon sent bullets, bodies dropped from the foliage and out of the bushes. His covering fire gave much of his unit time to escape, but not all of them.
Pain, unrelenting, burning pain erupted in his left shoulder. He sat forward screaming, clutching his chest, right where his pec met his shoulder. He sat forward, clutching his chest, not over his heart but over that specific scar. He found it difficult to breathe, but after a few moments to calm himself he sat back, it was over now. He was done.
He was going home. He was ready to have his own bed back, his own kitchen, his own home. He was ready to be home. He kept his mind off of the Changeling War, and on home. He looked around the car, and noticed that there were several veterans aboard. None that he knew personally, but he knew that they were vets because of their clothes. They all wore their uniforms, and they all looked worn out. But they seemed to be happy, for the time being, but he knew that what plagued him also plagued them, noone came home from that place without nightmares.
He kept his mind clear of the past, and empty until he disembarked. Getting off the train he took a deep breath of the fresh town air. It was clean, Ponyville, it was clean, petite and serene. Something he desperately needed.
As he walked through the semi busy but tranquil streets, several ponies saw and greeted him. Some more cheery than others but none were unfriendly. Once he reached his home he walked in and set his bags down, then he sat on his couch and decided to doze for a few moments. Until he heard a knock at his door.
Bullseye got up and walked to the door and found Derpy at the door. "Good afternoon sir, I was asked to give this to you."
Bullseye was handed an envelope and was bidden goodbye. Closing the door and opening the envelope, he read. It was a welcome home party invitation. Welcoming him and the other veterans from Ponyville back home. Of course Pinkie Pie had a party planned and prepared within two seconds.
Chuckling he got some more casual clothing on and left his home. Unpacking would have to wait, if he didn't show up on time for the party he'd wish he'd died in the war. Pinkie Pie would see to that.
He came into Sugarcube Corner at the precise time written on the invitation. His punctuality having been honed by years of training and experience. As he came into the building, the expected explosion of streamers bursting from their confetti cannons came, but no matter how expected they were, his bad experiences with explosions compelled him to dive back out the door and prepare for combat.
After a moment he sheepishly emerged, of course, his embarrassment was soon replaced by panic when Pinkie Pie grabbed his arm, and with strength superior to that of the newest armoured vehicles, pulled him into the middle of the room, surrounded by cheering ponies. There were a few other veterans there, being pulled into the party by Pinkie's supernatural strength.
He was barely aware of what was going on at what time. It was a party, nothing made sense. But he felt something drop into his pocket, and when he felt it it was another envelope. He excused himself to go to the restroom and read the message.
We need your help. Come out front and we'll talk
He didn't know why, but he did as asked. He stealthily wove his way through the crowd of ponies, struggling to avoid the searching eyes of the party planner, who would undoubtedly drag him back in should she see him leave. And he had dealt with more than enough overpowering opposition as it was. And when he got out, in front of him was none other than an old childhood friend of his.
"Blackthorn!" He exclaimed, seizing a hug from the dark coated batpony, which was returned to him in kind.
Blackthorn was an average sized stallion with the respectable profession of being the local ranger, overseeing the protection and keeping of the forests and fields surrounding the town. A very large area to cover. He was fairly muscled thanks to the hands-on involvement of his profession. He wore grey cargo pants with a brown cotton shirt and a broad brimmed hat to keep the sun off of him.
"It's good to see you again Bullseye!" Came the excited response. "It's good to see you're still in one piece."
"It's good to be in one piece." He says with a laugh. "So what was so important?"
Heat season. He should have guessed. Heat season was always a serious matter to stallions throughout the world. And it was the matter that he was called to discuss in his best friend's basement, or rather, heat season survival bunker.
The large room was a vault, it's solid steel door had eight locks, each requiring their own code from the outside if you didn't have the key, which he had stashed away inside his mattress. It was a huge cement room that had carpeted floors and walls, there was a game system in the corner with plenty of games to choose from, a small kitchenette and another door leading to the walk in freezer. He was ready to hunker down and wait out the storm of sex-crazed mares.
Bullseye, Filthy Rich and Blackthorn all stood around the table. Watching the recent footage of the more recent heat seasons. It wasn't very pleasant.
"The mares have been getting increasingly vicious in their hunting of stallions. And when the war started, the decrease in the number of stallions made the mares desperate. It's gotten to the point that we are at risk of serious bodily harm if we don't do something about it. And none of our petitions have reached the princesses. So, we're on our own."
"I have a friend who makes training weapons for the army. You know what I mean, the ones that cause either temporary paralysis or unconsciousness. Guns and knives alike. I've already placed the order and all of them are legally registered. We only need someone to teach us how to use them properly. That someone is you Bullseye, we need you to train us the way you were trained."
His gaze dropped from Filthy Rich and back to the screen showing a stallion getting his ribs and pelvis cracked from the vicious horde around him. He didn't want to, he really didn't want to, but he had to.
He didn't want to, not at first. All of his bad memories and experiences came flooding back to him. Yes, his training had lead to his survival, but it didn't change the fact that he wanted nothing more to do with any kind of weapons. And still it seemed that he would have to.
On one hand there was the idea of just hiding as they always did, but when he asked about this both of the stallions present shook their heads.
"That won't work, we had gotten desperate enough to hide in the forest a long time ago, it barely slowed them down and they sniffed us out easily. We can't run or hide, they would catch us for sure, and then we'd end up no better off."
"And what do you propose we do with the mares once we have them, keep them in pens? We don't exactly have a place to put them, and even then, what about legal repercussions? What would happen after heat season? Would we all be arrested for rape and confinement against ones will?"
"They aren't, and we can press the equal rights act, so either none of us are charged or us and every mare in Equestria is charged with us. No, legal repercussions aren't something to worry about. We have it all worked out, we just need a trainer and consultant. You know how war works, and with that, plus the new equipment that Mr. Rich has ordered we should be able to do this without too much difficulty. And as for where we keep them, well, we have that worked out too."
"Go on." Bullseye said, a little more interested than before. "I'm listening.
"You see, we aren't just buying knockout weapons, we're also buying materials and tools to craft our own little ideas. So the jist of it is that we will have posts in the ground, to which are nailed leather cuffs for a mare's wrists, this forces them to sit or kneel considering where the cuffs are set. Each post can hold four mares. Then we have the idea of making sure that each mare is given attention, so each stallion is given a minimum and maximum amount of mares that he can and must have. So that way, every mare is seen to, and us stallions don't have to risk life and limb quelling these mares' heat, and leaving blue balled regardless of the outcome."
"Alright, I'll do it."
