Invaders: A New King For Equestria

Chapters

The Falling Man
A Prediction of War
A New Age of War
Meeting Your Enemy
The Indestructible Man

The Falling Man

Author's Note

This might feel a little rushed so sorry for that, I was trying to finish it quickly, but I do have a full story pretty much planned out.

The Falling Man

June 12th, 1902

Ponyville Equestria

The village's stone houses were slowly going dark as the candles and lamps were blown out and windows were shut. A day's work had ended and so did the dinners shared among the families. The night was cool and windy, little creatures scurried around the empty village pathways, shown visibly by the bright full moon above as a young woman walked down the pathways stopping and caring for each animal individually. Feeding them food from a basket she carried in the crook of her arm.

She was Fluttershy, a young woman in her early twenties with fair skin clear of blemishes, her head covered flowing pink hair that went down her back in a long braid. She stood fairly short at just over five feet and wore a long green dress that was just above the ground revealing her bare feet. She was shy and while she did enjoy the daylight, she mostly only came into town at night unless she needed some supplies.

She made her home in a small cottage on the edge of town where she lived mostly among only animals, feeding and caring for the ones she kept at home and the ones who came by during the day from the nearby forest. She finished her feedings and made her way to the edge of town and back to her stone cottage with its thatched roof and the moss-covered cobble walls that housed her small living quarters.

She opened the rounded wooden door into the one-room cottage, it was sparse with a simple round table at the center and a single cushioned chair. On the eastern wall sat a wood-burning stove, at the southern end stood a wooden bed below a large window. On the western side were several places where animals stayed, including her white bunny Angel. She shut the wooden door behind her and placed her wicker basket on the wooden floor.

She drew in a deep yet quiet breath and let it free slowly, pushing it through her teeth. She moved her hand up to her chest and began to release the laces that held on her dress, untying each slowly before they all sat loose of her chest. She let the dress collapse to the ground, exposing her bare body to the cool air coming through her open window. As soon as the dress hits the floor she stretches out her wings.

A great mass of feathers spanned over near the whole width of her home, casting a shadow in the moonlight as they were stretched as wide as they could go. The young woman was a Pegasus, but unlike most, she lived on the ground instead of one of the many floating cities of Equestria and kept them covered during the day. Fluttershy seldom flew, she was far more comfortable on the ground, her fear of heights insured this.

Yes, she was unique among the other Pegasi, being afraid of heights yet being born with wings that were capable of flight, it earned her much ridicule in her childhood home of Cloudsdale, it surely was no surprise the day she left for the comfort of solid ground. She lived like an Earthling, with no horn to produce helpful magic and not using her wings to soar above the clouds, but she was happy with her quaint life on the edge of town.

She crossed the small cottage and climbed into her bed, wrapping her bare form in the white cotton blankets and resting her head on the thick pillow. Sleep did not come easy for her, restlessness was covering her like the blanket she slept under. Her yellow feathered wings twitched as if they were trying to break free from her back. The young Pegasus finally had enough, throwing the covers off her nude body she climbed from the bed and stood up on her feet.

She looked to the open window, a bright full moon's light shone in through its open form. Fluttershy stepped onto her bed and out onto the window ledge and then onto the grass-covered ground below. She walked away from the house with light steps towards the dark Everfree Forest beyond her house. At around halfway between the two she stopped, her wings opened full spread, casting a great shadow across the outer wall of her cottage.

She unbraided her long hair, put her legs together, closed her eyes, and raised her head before drawing in a deep breath of the cool night air. With the speed of lightning, her wings pushed her off from the ground and into the star-filled night sky. Feeling the cold wind rush past her, the pink-haired girl slowly opened her eyes, looking to the sky as the dark gray clouds of the night approached her. A shy smile crept across her face as her heart raced in her chest, not out of fear but excitement and exhilaration.

She broke the clouds, their fluffed shapes turning to ethereal-looking dust in her wake. Her shy smile broke into a full-on grin as the cool air brought chills of pure thrill across her body as she continued to rise until the clouds were but a blur beneath her. She slowed herself to a stop, slowly flapping her majestic wings to hold herself still in the cool air. She moved around, gazing at the stars that covered the sky like drops of glowing water that had been placed in the sky.

The young pegasus was bathed in the pale light of the full moon, her skin was warm with a sense of euphoria at the now calming sight. She did not feel a single prickle of cold on her skin as she floated high above Equestria, she found herself at peace at this moment. The calming peace was interrupted when she spotted something off in the distance. She could see something passing across the horizon just beneath the moon, a small object that was blurred by distance.

Should I go see it? she thought, a childlike curiosity seemed to wash over her at that moment, mixed with concern. What if it's an animal in distress? it seemed stupid, but birds flying above the clouds were not illogical, maybe a bird had become injured and was falling. She wasted no time and began flapping her wings furiously towards what was possibly a bird in distress.

The cold wind of the sky battered her face, it felt like ice on her face but she didn't care, all that mattered was she could rescue this animal if not to just see what it was. She continued her approach, traveling what must have been a mile, the object not growing in size. Still, she pressed on no matter how her wings ached, she still flew to the object of her curiosity. She grew nearer and nearer, then she slowed her approach.

She spotted something, a meteor-like something surrounded by black fire, invisible if not for the deep blue that surrounded its edges and the white flame coming from its front that glowed brightly like that of a small star. Fluttershy did not stop, she continued on her approach, determined to see what it was. The object fell through the clouds, cutting a round hole in their form like a leather punch before they filled the hole in again with their whispy semblance.

Fluttershy quickly dove into the clouds after it, still quite some distance away. Upon breaking from the clouds she began flying directly towards the curious meteor-like entity yet again. The thing showed no signs of slowing as it quickly approached the ground. Still the pegasus dove, her hair flowing behind her. She was now close enough she could make out the shape of the object.

It was shaped like a man, charred black with arms and legs stretched in front of its form. It was not a pegasus, there was no evidence of wings on the blackened form. It was huge, far larger than any man she had seen, even bigger than Big Macintosh, the brother of her friend Applejack, who himself stood six and a half feet tall. This thing looked more like a giant than a human. Then it set in, if a man was to fall from the sky there would need to be something terribly wrong, especially an Earthling.

Dread began to wash over her like the water of a river she had dived into. This dread turned to awareness, she looked down at the fastly approaching forest beneath. Then it hit her like a cannonball, the fear of heights, the dizziness and terror she got from flying. It all hit her at once and she clenched her eyes shut, and covered them with her hands. She stabilized herself, stopping her descent and returning to a state of hovering.

She slowly crept her eyes open for a brief moment, catching a glimpse of the man-shaped meteor as it crashed into the solid earth below. It was like time slowed as earth and dust began to erupt from the ground. It came from where the meteor had struck and risen from the ground in a wall of earth and rock and dust and fire that towered over the now hovering Fluttershy. Her gaze averted down to the world beneath and spotted the horrifying sight of the very earth being raised beneath her.

She wasted no time as she began racing back in what she thought was the direction of her home. As she fled, a loud, thunderous boom that was louder than anything she had ever heard, it was as if she was standing inside of a cannon as it fired. A great gust of wind came over her, growing more and more powerful until the rush pushed her forward fast as a bullet from a rifle. The pink-haired girl tumbled through the air like she had been tossed down a hill, catching glimpses of trees flattening in the wind.

She was continuously struck by debris as it flew past her, rocks trees, even animals that had been thrown by the blast. Everything went black for her in a near-instant as she was slammed into the window frame of her cottage, she was home. She bounced off of the bed and landed with a loud thump on the hard wooden floors, bruised and battered, knocked out cold. Her house shook and groaned as the force of the meteors wind crashed against its simple structure.

The thatching was ripped from her house and stones from the walls were torn away, a cacophony of destruction swirled around the unconscious girl. Then there was peace, the winds stopped and silence came over the land. The destruction had stopped and it felt like the world had paused, stillness covered the land. Then the sounds of nature returned, the croaking of frogs and singing of crickets came back like nothing had happened that night.

Fluttershy was slowly awoken to something small licking her face, it was her bunny Angel. She smiled as she stood up, hurting all over her body but not appearing to have any serious injuries, surprising due to her previous night. She gawked horrified at the state of her house, the sun was shining over its open top and it seemed half of the walls had been knocked over. Luckily most of the interior, including where her animals stayed, had not been damaged.

The walls would be easy enough to repair, but her animals were something else. A bell's ringing was carried over the air, it seemed out of place but she knew what it was. An emergency she thought to herself, she grabbed the green dress off of the floor and slipped the now dirty garment over her form, and ran through the broken doorway. She ran fast and hard to reach the village. She entered from the southern side to find a militia of armed men standing at the ready holding cap-lock rifles and repeaters among other weapons.

They were hiding behind a makeshift barricade of overturned carts and market stalls mixed with other bits of debris, all hastily prepared. They all held their guns at the ready as if preparing to jump from behind their barricades. Fluttershy put her back to the wall of a house and slid along it, peeking around the corner to see what the fuss was about. There stood a man, a lone man who stood at least seven and a half feet tall wearing dark gray colors.

A gray trench coat stretched past his knees and over his broad form. His right sleeve had been torn off and replaced with an arm that looked be made of black flexible plates of steel like a knight's armor in its place. It was adorned with worn patches, one showed what might have been a blue cross on a red field with stars that looked have started falling off, a patch on the chest showing faded and illegible numbers. The coat hung open revealing a strange armor that seemed to be made from segments of a matte gray material connected by thick black leather that covered his chest and abdomen.

He wore trousers made from an indiscernible material that was dark gray in color tucked into dark brown laced boots. A hat sat on his head, it was black and largely concealed his face which was shown to have a thick beard of graying black. The hulking beast that was this man had been looking down, standing in total silence and stillness, until he looked up. His emerald green eyes flashed against the light as he gazed at the barricades, an expression that lacked emotion on his face.

With that, the militia came up from their hiding spots, all aiming their guns at the man.

"FIRE!" was all that was shouted, and he disappeared into a thick cloud of gray smoke and the thunderous roar of guns.

A Prediction of War

June 15th, 1902

Canterlot Palace, Canterlot Equestria

The walls were built of cold gray stone, ancient to him as he had not seen such a prison in all his years. These were not the more familiar walls of concrete and sliding rock hard steel doors of the supermax prisons he was familiar with. This was a place that he felt the stupidest of convicts could break out of if it were not for his binds. He was stuck to the wall by a chain around his left arm nothing on his right as it had been removed after his capture.

Once his captors had discovered that his right arm was made of steel rather than flesh they would undoubtedly experiment on it. They had experimented on everything of his, his guns, knives, ammo, armor, clothes, and even him. The scientists in their white labcoats had shot him, stabbed him, blown him up with dynamite, dissected him, and electrocuted him. They found that all that seemed to work in stopping him was electrocution.

It was obvious they knew, as every time he yanked on his shackle, a bolt of electricity shot throughout his body. They questioned his name, they asked him about the marking on his shoulder blade that read "CSSEC-001". They were more than angry when he would only respond with "Go to hell" no matter how much electricity they sent through his body. He was broken from his thoughts by the familiar sound of the barred steel door swinging open.

"You come to cut me open again?" he asked in his deep voice "or may shove a stick of dynamite up my-" he was cut short when the guard, in his glinting gold armor and crested helm responded in a stuck-up snobby way:

"We have some people who would like to speak with you," several more guards came in "Please com quietly or we will-"

"What?" he asked almost sarcastically "Shoot me with your magic? Or will you just electrocute me again?"

"Just come" exclaimed the guard now angered.

The guards were forced to drag him up from the dungeon as he had decided he would not give them the joy of just leading him. Rather, he decided that he would rather them carry him to his destination than just walk there. He was brought into a rather blank room, like his cell it was made from stone. The only real difference being that it was larger, there was a table at the center with seven chairs six on one side and on on the other, a single light bulb above it.

"They will be here momentarily," said the guard who had led him in there as his broad form was sat in the chair which looked small compared to his size.

He was shackled to a chain that came from the floor which he knew was more than likely electricized. The guards left the room, assuming he would not try and break out, leaving him alone in the dim light of the single bulb. Not long after, a door across from him that had been invisible in the dim opened up, flooding the room with bright light. Entering the room were six young women, two looked familiar to him.

One he recognized as the curly-haired girl that had run from him, someone who most would not remember from a brief glimpse. But, his memory was far more enhanced than the average man. The other he recognized as the one who had bayonetted him and blasted off part of his face, he recognized the blonde hair and the bruises on her neck from his grip. Now the others stood out, one was a bit shorter than the others with fair skin and very long pink hair, very long pink hair, she was wearing a simple green dress.

The way she stood, looking down at the ground, he could tell that she was quite shy. One had skin that had been tanned by makeup with deep blue eye shadow that matched her hair in color and an odd white horn protruding from her forehead. She wore a dark blue dress that glittered in the dim light, snow-white fur lining its collar. The smug look on her face showed that she thought highly of herself, a fan in her hands made to look like a peacock.

There stood another who was probably the shortest, she stood out due to her rainbow-colored hair that was cut short and the massive blue feathered wings on her back. Her skin was olive in tone and she dressed more like a factory worker than a woman. Overalls and thick gloves like wartime factory workers that were stained by bright colors. At the center of this diverse group stood a girl whose hair was made up of violet and purple streaks that were cut into bangs at the front.

Her skin also showed a noticeable olive tone to it but she looked more like the bookworm type with her round glasses with thin wireframes. She stood out from the others as she had both large violet wings and a violet horn protruding from her forehead. Her dress was simple as well, made up mostly of purple and white with a large purple leather sack at her side, bulging with books. Each one took a seat at the table with the violet-haired girl sitting in the middle and placing her sack of books on the table.

For what seemed like hours they stared at each other before the violet haired one spoke:

"Who are you?" her voice was angry but calm something he was used to using such a voice. He opened his mouth and spoke in his deep voice with his country-sounding accent:

"I'll tell ya ma name, on one condition," he rubbed his graying black beard with his hand "You bring me one of your finest cigars," he propped his bare feet on the table and leaned his chair against the wall

The violet-haired girl got up from her seat and made her way to the door. She opened it and flooded the room with light, there was an exchange between a guard outside and the door slammed shut. She returned to her seat and asked again:

"Who are you?" her voice was calmer now. He rested his feet on the floor and let the chair fall forward, and rubbed his chin again, looking at them.

"Who are y'all?" he asked "I'll tell you ma name if you tell me y'all's names" he smiled at the women smugly.

"Well darling, my name is Rarity," responded the blue-haired girl who sat on the far side of the table in her sophisticated voice.

"I'm Rainbow Dash," replied the rainbow-haired girl with a sort of fire in her voice.

"M-my name is... Fluttershy" replied the long-haired one, so quietly it was almost a whisper.

"HellohighhowdoyoudoMynameisPinkiePie!" replied the curly-haired girl who would have likely continued if not for the blonde-haired girl.

The blonde-haired girl's face was plastered with anger, unlike the rest "ah'm Applejack" was all she said and with no hint of anything other than anger in her voice. Finally, the violet haired girl spoke:

"And my name is Twilight Sparkle, Princess of Friendship," she cleared her throat "Now, what is your name?"

"Rip Van Winkle" he began to chuckle, his chuckling soon turned to a fit of deep hearty laughter as he slammed his fist on the table before it evolved into a coughing fit. Before he could continue there was a knock at the door, Twilight got up and opened the door, there was another brief exchange, and the door shut. Twilight sat back down and sat with a long brown cigar in hand with a rounded end and a flat end and a small matchbook.

She sat them both in front of "Rip Van Winkle" and asked:

"Who are you?"

The man picked up the cigar and stuck it between his teeth before striking a match and sticking it to the cigar. He sucked on it until a dull orange glow began to emit from it and he blew out a smelly cloud of gray tobacco smoke. His voice then took on a serious tone and he began:

"I am CSSEC-001, which stands for 'Confederate Super-Soldier Experiment Clone Version One'. I identify myself as Aaron and I am here to warn you about an invasion from my homeworld," He was cut off by Twilight

"Wait a minute, who are these 'Confeder-" she too was cut off when Aaron placed his finger over her lips

"Ah was getting there before you so rudely cut me off," he replied through his cigar, he took another puff "The Confederate States of America is one of the most powerful nations in my homeworld along with the Republic of Petersburg and German Empire. Before I arrived here, the Confederacy had been working on a way to pass over into your universe. They had sent a man through a small portal to make sure that this place was safe to enter. But now, they're sending the Army, CADAC, and the Navy through and they're here to take over."

Rainbow Dash began to snicker under her breath before bursting out into a laughing fit complete with tears, kicking and gripping her stomach. Soon after Pinkie Pie followed and even Applejack began to chuckle quietly as well, covering her mouth with her fist. The only ones not laughing were Fluttershy in her timidness, Rarity in her properness, and Twilight who actually seemed interested.

"What do you mean, 'our universe'?" she asked.

"ah mean that there is a near-infinite number o' universes in existence, yours was somehow the closest and they've found and as of now they're likely gonna pass through real soon. Ask your long-headed friend over there, she saw me fall from the sky," he responded

"H-how did you know?" questioned Fluttershy who had tried to remain hidden.

"Ah was awake for the whole thing, hurt like a motherfucker when I hit the ground," he responded.

"Like a what?" Twilight questioned in response

Aaron paused and glared at her before saying "we're getting off track, mah point is that you're in danger. They'll destroy you, they have guns that will rip your soldiers to shreds and armor that will hold up against just about whatever you shoot them with,"

"What about Magic?" asked Twilight

"That depends, is it destructive in nature?" responded Aaron firmly, pointing at her with his cigar in hand.

"N-no" Twilight stammered for the proper words "But, it is defensive"

"Ya mean like shields?" responded the super-soldier "Let's say ya use these shields, even if they could block artillery fire and storms of falling bombs, it won't last forever and you'll run out of energy" he slammed his fist down so hard the table shook "And when your magic runs out, then you'll be obliterated like that" he snapped his fingers, still holding the cigar betwixt his fingers. "Ya see, they don't have magical shields from horns on their heads, they don't have wings on their backs. So they create machines to do these things, they have steel beasts that take the place of magic shields, and flying machines that go higher than you could perceive,"

"That's impossible!" responded Twilight

"Is it though? Is it any more impossible than them passing through some portal into your universe?!" he responded now enraged, he shot up from his seat but sat back down as he felt the stabs of electricity coarse through his body.

Twilight stood up from her seat, she did not know whether it was from genuine fear or annoyance of what many would see as insane ramblings from an insane man.

"You're... you're crazy," was her only response, the rest stood up as well and began to leave the room.

"YOU BETTER PREPARE!" he shouted as they left "I'VE SEEN THEM FIGHT, I FOUGHT FOR THEM, THEY WON'T STOP UNTIL YOUR GROUND BENEATH THEIR BOOTS, THEY'LL BE HERE SOON AND YOU SHALL ALL SEE!"

Twilight took one look behind her at the man before she opened the door and left the chamber and into the open halls of the palace. But, even as she laid herself down to sleep later that night, she could not shake what he had said "They'll be here soon,"

June 16th, 1902

Somewhere in Western Equestria near an old village

Daisy Rose was a florist by trade, she sold flowers to the denizens of her little village to make a modest profit which she used to live a simplistic life. Of course, a simplistic life was all you could truly live in her small village on what felt like the edge of civilization with no more than fifty people. Her parents, Rough Breeze, and Lily-Rose had been part of the first settlers in this small farming village nearly thirty years ago.

Daisy was young at maybe twenty-three years old with dark red hair and rosy red cheeks on her fair face. She was shorter and curvier than some wearing a gray and white dress with a brown leather apron around her waist. She stood at the open window of what was her shop and home, a sort of market stall on the ground floor and her home on the top floor. She stood and watch the other villagers go about their days, leaning on the counter of her open stall as she felt the cool summer breeze.

It was truly a calm day for this small farming village on the edge of the world, no different than any other. Daisy was snapped from her thoughts when an evergrowing roar suddenly began to emanate from the forest west of the village, shaking the whole village.

"EARTHQUAKE!" she heard a woman cry out

"NO! A MONSTER!" a man shouted

Daisy left her shop and walked out onto the main road cutting through town and stared out at the forest like the many other villagers. As this roar grew closer to the village it became readily apparent, whatever monster it was had not come alone, as innumerable other roars began to grow alongside it. Soon the crashing of trees was heard as well like the entire forest was being cut down at once. Animals came darting from the treeline, rabbits, squirrels, deer, and the many other residents of the forest all left its protection.

The roars grew closer and closer, the villagers frozen in terror as they looked towards the forest. Then they all shared a horrified as bright white eyes appeared in the roofed darkness of the trees that slowly moved closer with the monotonous roar of the monsters. Then the unblinking eyes disappeared for a brief moment before the trees at the forest's edge toppled down and a hulking beast of steel painted matte gray came forward from the forest on steel tracks.

The machine stood over even Daisy's two-story house mounting a long-barreled cannon on the front of its massive hull and two bigger ones on the sides. On its roof sat the largest gun of them all, extending past the hull it sat in a tall turret like one of a battleship. The beast rolled to a stop, its roar quieting down to a growl. The turret of the beast rotated around with a low whir as if it were scanning for its prey before eventually ceasing when it was facing forward again.

Then the most surprising thing happened, a man emerged from the roof of the turret wearing gray military fatigues and a gray steel helmet covering most of his head, in his hands were black binoculars. he placed his eyes to the binoculars and gazed around before pointing east and shouting down the hatch:

"CONTINUE FORWARD!" With that, he climbed back in and the beast roared to life again, going forward again, snapping the villagers from their shock. Accept for Daisy, she stood and stared at the approaching steel machine. The machine continued its approach as she stood aghast before it slowed to a halt again. Muffled shouting could be heard from within as the beast sat there. Eventually, Daisy finally snapped from her horror-induced trance and ran away from the beast which continued on not long after.

The beast moved on revealing the columns of soldiers donning gray fatigues covered by matte gray armored plates hid beneath army coats, their heads were protected by gray steel helmets and in their hands were a diverse array of guns. They marched with a great many wheeled machines and smaller tracked ones. It wasn't just in the village, soldiers and machines emerged from all across the forest, traveling over the flatlands outside of its cover and crossing the landscapes.

June 16th, 1902

Skies Above Equestria

High Glide soared high over Equestria, high above the white clouds that showed off his hard work. He worked for the weather services moving clouds across the sky, it was his break and he could now fly freely over Equestria. his hair was curly and a bluish-white that fell over his face. He was dressed in gray overalls with a white shirt beneath them and a flat cap on his head with his teal wings stretched out behind him.

The brilliant blue of the sky surrounded him and the midday sun floated overhead as he zipped through wisps of thin white cloud. He rolled and flipped and looped through the sky without a car in the world. As he made one loop he saw something off in the distance, a wall of dark gray clouds that looked out of place. Strange he thought I don't think there were supposed to be any storms today. He flew closer to the clouds, hearing the rolling sounds of thunder and seeing streaks of purple lightning from within.

He stopped and hovered in front of the cloud a good distance away, he examined it from afar and found it didn't look any different from typical storm clouds. High was about to return to his post and tell someone of his discovery when a new sound caught his attention. A cacophony of low droning emanated from within, he stopped and listened as it seemed to approach, growing louder by the second. Then like a flash of lightning, massive birds seemed to emerge from the clouds.

Birds made from metal, bearing paintings of near-naked women and other things on their sides with massive rotating blades affixed to unmoving wings. These birds moved alarmingly fast for their hulking size. Some were huge and others far smaller with what looked to be people sitting inside beneath glass domes and windows. High watched as they emerged from the wall without end, roaring across the sky and into the distance.

A New Age of War

Author's Note

I can’t write battles very well, sorry.

A New Age of War

May 3rd, 2028 Earth Date
June 17th, 1902 New World Date
0900 Hours

Rally Point 1

The rotating blades of the chopper roared with a deafening, thunderous drone as it flew low over New Whynot. The chopper was a fairly barebones machine, an exposed engine mounted above the glass ball that was its simple cockpit, the framework tail stretched out far, a small rotor at the end facing to the side. Sitting in the cockpit were two men, one bore the gray jumpsuit of a chopper pilot, a confederate crossed flag upon his shoulder inverted with a red cross and blue field, and below that was the traditional blue cross and red field flag patch.

Upon his right were a stars and bars flag, showing three bars, two red and one white with a blue canton depicting twenty-four flags in a circle, below that was a simple white flag with a blank red cross, represent Alabama. On his right breast was a tag that read Cpt P. H. Williams, beneath it, one read Confederate Air Defense and Attack Corps. His face sat largely concealed beneath a gray pilot's helmet and black visor, his hands beneath black leather gloves. Next to this man was one who dressed like a commander, he wore a suit that matched the pilots in color.

It consisted of a white dress shirt and black tie hidden beneath a matte gray jacket with four pockets on its face.
They were shut by gold buttons, the same as the buttons that held the jacket together, small and round, a plain leather holster sat on the left side at his waist, holding a large pistol. His shoulders were decorated by patches of numerous flags. Upon his right were three flags, at the top was the crossed flag with its navy blue cross and red field, depicting thirteen stars and representing the Confederate Army.

Beneath was a patch that matched the pilot's first patch, the crossed flag with colors inverted to represent the CADAC. Beneath that was a patch looking the same as the first, only its blue was a lighter shade, it represented the Confederate Navy. On his right, there was the Stars and Bars patch for the CSA, but beneath it was a flag which showed a beautiful magnolia tree at the center of its field, its blue canton portrayed a single white star, a red bar sat at the forward edge of its field, this flag was for the state of Mississippi.

Upon his left-right breast was a black tag that read Mil Gov, A. L. Thatcher. His pants were nothing special, dress pants in the same matte gray with black leather boots going up to his calf. His face was not concealed, however, his face was aged, lines and wrinkles crisscrossed it, crow's feet sat on the edges of his green eyes, and droopy bags hung beneath them concealed by Aviator sunglasses. His square chin was hidden beneath a thick beard that was mostly gray bits of black intermingling within and his head was shaved completely bald.

On his head was a small headset for communication with the pilot, a simple metal headset colored silver, a long black wire going from its side up into the roof. Thatcher looked down out of the open cockpit door and over the columns of mechanical monsters that made up the brunt of the Confederate Invasion Force. From massive CMT2005-2 Megalodon Mega Tanks with their four guns to the small half-ton Marion Saddler pickup trucks mounted with a single machine gun on their lift kits and thick offroad tires.

"LAND RIGHT HERE!" Thatcher shouted into the headset, his voice deep and booming, hard as stone. The pilot hovered the chopper over an opening where a line of equipment sat, three Megalodons in a long column, their turrets facing forward and level, their big main gun hanging over their faces. The only thing making them stand out was the names painted on their side. Pride of Davis, Batter Batter, and The Big Daddy. The pilot lowered the chopper behind the one closest to them, the Pride of Davis.

He landed the chopper near a large diesel tank wagon, barely touching the long metal skids to the ground. The tanker sat behind the steel monster that was the CMT2005-2 Megalodon. A long black tube ran from the bottom and to a small hatch on the tank's rear. Hooked to the wagon was an LTT70 Ladybug, a small tracked vehicle, looking like a very small tank with its roof cut off, its exhaust sticking out from the front near the driver's seat. A long bed sat behind the driver's seat which could hold around thirteen soldiers.

Thatcher removed his headset, letting it hang loose, and gave the pilot a thumbs-up before he dropped down into the cloud of gray dust kicked up by the chopper. The chopper quickly lifted off, leaving Thatcher behind. He then made his way past the wagon where the entire crew, donning gray army pants and white t-shirts, stood in salute, he paused and gave off a quick salute before saying in his firm, commanding voice:

"At ease soldiers" the crew completed their salutes and went back to work, which was mostly standing around waiting for the tank's massive six-thousand-gallon fuel tank to fill up. Thatcher walked over to the left side, his long legs making quick strides. On this side sat another Ladybug, pulling three wagons loaded down with artillery shells, crewmates loaded them into a thick hatch that ran along with one of the 76mm gun sponsons.

Watching them work was a short man dressed in a similar officer's uniform, an exact copy of Thatcher's. The only real difference was that he only had the Confederate Army Flag on his right shoulder and a white flag with blue cross below it, and nine six pointed stars in the cross. The Mississippi and National flags were on his left. Thatcher approached the man, tapping him on his shoulder. The man turned to face Thatcher, his now visible name tag reading LTC J.R. CLemson.

He was a much older man than Thatcher at more than eighty, his face was old and wrinkled, much akin to old leather, much of this was hid behind a thick white beard in his face, short hair stuck out from under his cap. Roberson was also far shorter, what must have been at close to a foot difference, his frame was far thinner compared to the bulky frame of Thatcher.

"Lieutenant Colonel Clemson," said Thatcher, holding his hand in salute, his voicing now transitioning into a more casual voice, smooth as honey, a normal Mississippi accent.

"Military Governor Thatcher," responded Clemson, holding his hand in salute as. His voice was deep, a raspy worn voice, one like an old worn-out car. "We're nearly ready sir, once we're done fueling ole Davis here'll be ready to move out," He hit the side with his fist, making it emit a loud banging sound.

"Do we have an update on the CADAC?" Aaron asked, reaching into one of his chest pockets, he produced a silver cigar case, engraved with the name Private Aaron L. Thatcher, it was rusty and worn.

"Not a damn thing, radio boys say they can't establish contact without a more 'permanent base' or something of that sort," responded Clemson in a harsh, annoyed tone. The old governor leaned his back against the cold steel hull of the monstrous machine behind him. He responded to Clemson with some humor:

"Well old-timer, I don't believe you have quite the understanding of logistics you claim to," he flashed a very rare smile, barely showing the slightly yellow hue of his tobacco-stained teeth. Clemson turned and glared at his younger commanding officer, a scowl marked his face. His scowl soon faded, however, and he began to laugh in an ancient cackle like an angered cat. This fit of laughter continued on for a solid minute, Thatcher staring at him with concern on his face.

The fit ended with hoarse coughing and wheezing like the old man he was. He doubled over and, resting his wrinkled hand on the beast next to him. The fit of hacking coughs soon subsided and he lifted himself up to face the rather concerned man before him. With a smile on his old face he said to him:

"You always had a big head for a young man" he chuckled "I fought three wars and commanded logistical operations for more than sixty years boy. You wish you had my experience," he pointed a crooked finger at the younger governor.
Thatcher simply reached into his coat and pulled out a silver cigar case and popped it open, pulling out a homegrown cigar and a long cedar match. He began to wet the end of the already cut cigar with his mouth, all the while responding to Clemson:

"Well sir, a lot's changed since your time in the Congo and Brazil," he placed the case back in his coat and struck his match against the heel of his calf-high boots "A helluva lot has changed since I first joined," He held the match to the cigar, taking puffs from the brown tube of rolled tobacco, sending out gray smoke clouds. The cigar was finally lit, and with a good puff, he sent smoke rings high into the gray sky.

"Nowadays they got 'satellites' and all sorts o' shit I don't understand," He puffed the cigar yet again "I remember my first Issue Rifle, a Model1976, the 'Ole Mule' they called it," He chuckled lightly "Back then we didn't have them fancy recoil springs the youngins get,"

"just a trigger and bunch o' wood eh?" responded Clemson Back in ma' day we had them damn Model1948s. The only thing separating them from the Light Machine Guns was they were only semi-automatic," he chuckled lightly, reminiscing on his younger days as a new soldier "I remember getting bruises on my shoulder when they put that thing in my hands,"

"Shit!" responded The young veteran with a laugh "Those Mules kicked ya so bad that most of us couldn't fire it in full auto standing," he blew another smoke ring

"'Cept for you of course," responded Roberson jokingly "I remember hearin' about ya when you were trainin', said everyone else had their shots all over the range, but you stood firm and still like you were shooting a toy,"

"That was a real gun," Responded Thatcher, cigar in his teeth "The guns they give our boys these days are toys, they don't even kick anymore. Today's soldiers won't ever know what it's like to handle what many would call a glorified hunting rifle," The two men began to laugh like the old friends they were. The two old soldiers continued until they were interrupted by a young soldier:

"SIR!" he cried out to the man, though which one of them they did not know. Thatcher regained his rock-solid demeanor, responding in his cold, demanding officer's voice. Cigar in hand he asked the soldier:

"What is it, soldier?" Clemson also regained composure, watching from behind the tall man. The soldier, trembling at the rather large man before him just barely stammered out:

"T-THE TANK IS REFUELED SIRS!"

"Very well soldier," replied Thatcher holding his hand up in a salute "Tell your crew to report to your commander for further orders," he ended his salute. The thin soldier made a quick salute and responded:

"SIR YES SIR" the soldier ran back to his crew, which had already rolled up the fuel hose and started their Ladybug. Thatcher turned to his old commander and said:

"Guess you're off sir," reverting back to his casual manner of speaking. He held a salute to his old commander who returned it. The old man climbed up a ladder mounted on the rear of the tank's side gun with the speed of a young man before climbing the back of the turret next to the gun charge magazine and into the turret itself. Thatcher wasted no time, hitching a ride on the Ladybug carrying ammo wagons that was just leaving.

June 17th, 1902
Rockville, Southwestern Equestria

Mayor Stone slowly rotated his remaining eye over the newly built defenses, standing in his position in the backline of trenches. Militiamen marched and filled their positions in the wood and stone-lined ditches. The men in their gray military fatigues and red caps stood in lines with bolt action rifle shouldered. Dispersed along the line were the fairly new Bridleburg Arms Co. water-cooled auto guns. The massive beasts with their long belts of 8mm shot chilled the old mayor.

His time in the Equestrian Colonial Force gave him experience with the terrible rotary gun. He was an old man, he remembers when muskets were the soldier's gun of choice. He remembers the day he first saw a rotary gun and how it cut down scores of Zebrican warriors like a sickle to hay. He rubbed his thick gray beard with his three-fingered left hand and placed it back on his saber's hilt.

"It seems I'll never catch a break from war," he muttered in his gravelly voice "Even as far from Canterlot as ah can be It always finds me," A soldier tapped on his shoulder, knocking him from his trance. He was a bugle boy with hair gray as his, the boy's eyes glinting and young, reminded Stone of the young soldier he once was with his pride and hunger for glory. "What is it, soldier?" he asked aloud with an overbearing seriousness to his voice.

"The cannons are in position, sir. The crews have their sights on Sediment Hill," responded the bugle boy in haste

"Very well," replied the one-eyed veteran "Tell them-" Mayor Stone was cut short by a dull rumbling to their west. Stone turned his single eye to Sediment Hill where the sound grew ever louder. "FORM RANK!" cried out Stone to which the bugle boy responded with a blowing of his bugle. The militiamen unshouldered their rifles, tucking them into their shoulders with sights lifted up.

The rumbling drew to just behind the tall hill. Guns were aimed, cannons and auto guns were adjusted to just over the hill. Silence befell the men in anticipation. And anticipation turned to horror as Stone and his men expected one of the sluggish steel crawlers the refugees from the west had told about. But, no, instead they were met with flying machines, many, many flying machines. Fat bellied machines with spinning wings on their rooves carrying soldiers inside.

"FIRE!" cried out Stone, the bugle boy sounded his trumpet again. A storm of lead was shot towards the approaching beasts that stood near unfazed. The gray machines hovered on their skids just above the ground, letting their gray-clad and armored human cargo out onto the gray dirt. Bullets were slung towards them in a storm of led shot. Many of the men fell but others continued unharmed. They charged the lines with fixed bayonet and opened fire in quick bursts of three.

A cannon managed to strike one of the craft as it lifted up. The terrible machine lit ablaze and spun around in a ring of fiery death before crashing down onto a group of invaders. This unfazed other soldiers as they continued on. The first line began to falter under the overwhelming firepower. It helped none that as the machines would leave they would pass over the trenches and rain down fire from the beasts' mounted guns.

Stone drew his auto-pistol and began firing on the invaders, who were now crossing into the second trench line. Over the roar of guns, he cried out hurriedly:

"FIX BAYONET!" The young bugle boy who had stood at his side began to sound his trumpet. His call was never completed, ending with a sour note as a stray bullet ripped through his throat and splattered blood all over him and Stone. The boy collapsed, choking on the crimson fluid pouring from his neck. Stone looked down at him, and then ahead before holstering his pistol and drawing his saber: "FIX BAYONET! FIX BAYONET!" he cried again.

His brave militiamen drew their long, razor-sharp bayonets that were far longer than their adversary's. They fixed them to their rifles and readied for the certain charge they would make. Stone stood atop the trench and aimed his saber over the expanse of no man's land between them and the assaulting invaders.

"CHAAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGEEEEEE!" He yelled as he began to run as fast as his old bones would allow him. They crossed the gray expanse. The invaders began a charge as well, jumping from the second line and running to meet them. The helmeted soldiers charged, letting out awful hooting and hollering, like animals they shouted. It was like hitting a brick wall when the two forces met. A mix of shot and blade cut down scores of men from either side.

The warriors fought with guns like they were spears. Stone cut down every man who charged him, finding their chests protected from his blade. With every slash of his saber, he would cut their throat and send them down in heaps of dead meat. Even so, the men attackers still cut down his men in droves. Thinking fast he called his men to retreat, once retreated they reformed into a line to face down the attackers in a massive volley.

"AIM FOR THEIR HEADS!" he shouted, standing to the side of his men. The red-capped men unleashed a torrent of fire from their rifles, cutting down scores of charging invaders. The helmeted soldiers were quick to duck down to prone positions and continue firing at Stone's men. Cannons began to fire on the now stuck soldiers, killing many at once with their 3-inch shells. Still, they fought on even with dwindling numbers. When it seemed certain that Stone would win, a massive crawling beast topped over the hill, slamming down in a cloud of dust. Through the thunder of battle, the beast's approach had been concealed.

What was worse is that to the north of them were coming more flying machines, firing on the line of militiamen. The crawler fired its forward-mounted gun towards the line as well. it took out far too many to count and broke the lines in two. The forces of stone were now scattered into small engagements with newly arriving invaders who brought them down quickly with overwhelming firepower. Soon, Stone and ten others were the only remaining soldiers, fighting back to back with the advancing invaders.

The gray armored men were now right in their faces with their rifles, still, Stone's men fought on. By the end, only Stone and two others remained drenched in blood, and out of munitions in their rifles and pistols, they finally surrendered to their near-invincible enemy.

May 3rd, 2028 Earth Date
June 17th, 1902 New World Date
1203 Hours

Clemson stood just outside the town hall of his forces' newly conquered home. Behind him stood a great numbered of newly widowed women and their children with three blood-soaked militiamen and five Confederate soldiers standing before them. Clemson has his hand up in a salute as he watches his commanding officer approach. In the convoy of six-ton trucks passing before the group. Within this convoy was a loan Tucker Escort, a gray car with a strange three headlight design and four doors.

It exits the convoy and comes to a halt before them. One soldier donning only a helmet and fatigues steps out of the passenger side and opens the right suicide back door on the car. Out steps Thatcher like a giant unfurling from inside a cave, a cigar in his mouth and an ornate cane in hand. He walks over to Clemson, giving him a salute and asking:

"Who's the commander?" Clemson points to a tall, one-eyed, and bearded man donning gray fatigues and an upturned slouch hat. Thatcher strode over to the man who stood right at eye level with Thatcher. He glared at Thatcher with his sky blue eyes, scorn marked his aged face. "Might I ask your name?" questioned Thatcher in his more casual Mississippi accent.

"I am Mayor Obsidian Stone of Rocksville, I am the commander of the Rocksville Militia," he responded in anger

"Well... My name is Aaron Lee. Thatcher and I am Military Governor of the Confederate States of America" Thatcher reached into his coat and pulled out a silver cigar case and popped it open offering Stone a cigar.

"I don't want your tobacco," said Stone with anger to this offer.

"Very well," replied the beast of a man "But, I would like to compliment your militia, and your skills as a commander. You fought to the last man and slew scores of our men," He puffed his cigar "But, I believe you didn't accept my subordinate's offer of surrender, so I think you might need some convincing," He looked at all the people behind Stone "You give us this village, then we'll let you and your citizens leave alive,"

"Go to Tartarus," responded Stone. Thatcher grabbed the eight-shot revolver hanging at his hip and stuck it to Stone's head.

"Do you not accept these terms?" asked Thatcher almost tauntingly with cigar hanging at his lip. Stone simply turned east and gestured his men and citizens to follow him. Thatcher holstered his revolver and simply said: "He fought like hell, the rest'll fight harder,"

Meeting Your Enemy

July 1st, 1902

A train to Rockville Equestria

The screeching and moaning of the train's carriage was muffled by the armored casing it was built from. Its protected interior was one of ornate decorations, with its hand-carved crown molding, its golden paint, and red leather seats. It sat at the center, a luggage car before it, a kitchen car and soldier's carriage behind it. The engine was a great ten-wheeled steamer, built for the grand Trans Equestrian Railroad it rode down.

Inside the center coach were the six friends having been sent to meet a new enemy. An unknown force from an unknown land. Rumors had been spread quickly from the edge of Equestria. It was told that their leader was a giant who could breathe smoke. Twilight thought these were silly rumors yet still remained skeptical. She and her friends had met dragons in mountains, had helped fight off an army of monsters that would take the forms of others and steal the joy from their very bodies.

A giant who breathes smoke and rides a steel horse is not such far fetched idea. That was why Twilight sat with her nose in a thick book about the world's history. Looking for anything that resembles them in any part of the world, any legends of smoke-breathing giants. This was nothing new for the bookworm, she was always a bit a bookworm, a Canterlot native, and a personal student to Princess Celestia. Surprisingly, Rarity was reading one of her many books as well, seeing as there was little to do on this train ride.

Pinkie sat across the aisle from her friend, her pink and fluffy hair sat deflated like a balloon over her face and down her back. Her face was stained by rivers of dried tears, tissues covered her table to the point it was near invisible beneath the mounds of crumpled white paper. It was a flurry of emotions that had put her in this state. First worry, worry for her family who lived near the newly occupied town of Rockville. Then anger, anger was an unfamiliar emotion to the usually joyous girl. Anger at these mysterious foes, confusion too, she was confused as to why humans would attack each other in such a manner.

Changelings were one thing, creatures of hate and malice. But, humans? how could people want to do this so badly? Then Fear, she knew her father, an old man when she left home, had joined the Rockville Militia not long before this attack. Death was one thing she feared to have come of him. They all swirled in her head like it was a blender, unsure which she should feel at this moment, unable to comprehend the deep-seated emotion in her heart.

Applejack and Rainbow Dash both knew exactly what they felt, it was anger they felt as they tinkered with their guns at their table in front of Twilight's Applejack bore the blue of the Ponyville Militia, an old single shot Rolling Block rifle in hand. Rainbow Dash wore the same distinct uniform with white stripes on its sleeves, a symbol of the Pegasus Division, her heavy water-cooled submachine gun further identified her position.

Behind Pinkie was Fluttershy, the shy young girl was quiet as ever, feeding a mouse she had found in the soldier's carriage. She showed no concern about where they were going, why? No one could figure it out. There she sat, feeding the small mouse a piece of cheese taken from the kitchen car. The train was mostly silent say for the rattle and moan of the steel wheels of their carriage, and the low creaks of the coach as it rolled on the newly built tracks.

It had to be fairly close to Rockville when the train ground to a halt suddenly, throwing the occupants out of their seats and scattering their personal effects over the hard oak floor. Twilight lifted herself up from the floor and dusted off her violet dress. She climbed into her seat and opened the window, sticking her head out into the hot air. Horror grew on her face as she saw nine men on horseback trotting along the side of the train.

A train robbery was her first thought, she then noted that they were wearing matte gray uniforms. Eight wore helmets and vests covered in numerous pouches and pockets, pistols and sabers on their left hip, rifles hanging on their saddles. At their lead was a man donning a similar getup minus a helmet, instead, he wore a slouch hat with its right side turned up and a revolver across his chest. His face was covered by a thick brown beard that concealed most of it from view, a cigar was clenched between his teeth.

He trotted up alongside their carriage pulling out his cigar to say:

"Well, well, well, this is a mighty fine steam locomotive ya got here. I got a son back home who just loves these ole engines to death" his voice was jovial and kind, sounding like someone native to the southwest of Equestria. He reached a hand out to Twilight, introducing himself "Good day to you my friend, I am Captain Jameson C. Coney of the 6th Mississippi Mounted Rifles. We was just makin' our rounds and happened upon your train stopped at one o' our signals,"

He looked the golden paint of the carriage over, and the six cutie marks painted on its side and then said:

"By the looks of your coach here... I'd say y'all's of some high status. Cotton farmers? Oil folks? Railroad Magnates?" Before Twilight could answer, Rarity opened her window and quickly chimed in:

"We're the Elements of Harmony dear," Fluttershy opened the window next to Rarity and continued shyly

"W-we're here on behalf of Princess Celestia, we're supposed to meet your leader," Captain Jameson just smiled and said back:

"Well, it looks like we've got ourselves some royalty, I'll have to tell Governor Thatcher about this," he picked up his reins and continued "Maybe we can get some pictures with the train I can send to my boy back home," he laughed through a cloud of cigar smoke and kicked his horse up, his men following suit and soon entering a gallop as they looped around and went south in a gray cloud of dust. It was a minute later when the train sounded its low whistle and began to move yet again.

July 1st, 1902

Rockville Equestria

Rockville had changed, it still bared quite a resemblance to the old village it had been the last time Pinkie and her friends had been there. Many of the old houses, even the town hall remained, though its Equestrian banner had been replaced by the banner of this new nation, a flag with stars in a blue canton and red and white bars. That was one of the first things she spotted as she stepped off of the train, that and how the town had been pretty much replaced by white tents and lines of strange metal vehicles.

They were met by three infantrymen armed with peculiar rifles, donning the same uniforms as the cavalry they had met previously. One approached them, a young black man whose head seemed a bit smaller than the helmet.

"Please follow us!" he sternly said, he looked past the group at the fifteen royal guards climbing from the train "Your guards are gonna have to stay here," he said. Twilight turned and ordered the guards to halt. The six friends followed the three soldiers through the camp. Soldiers and workers milled about, many not even wearing their proper uniforms. Soldiers leaned up against the buildings smoking cigarettes.

Others helped the labor forces in moving equipment and supplies, mechanics attended to the vehicles. Some soldiers sat in their tents and cleaned their guns, some simply laid back on their cots. The three soldiers led them to the old town hall where a band of gray-clad musicians wearing forage caps stood with their instruments at the ready, their conductor stoked them up.

They began to play for the six women, a rather upbeat and almost patriotic-sounding song. Somewhere in the middle, the song changed to one almost completely different. And almost as if one queue, a man stepped out of the old and splintered front door of the town hall. The man was a hulking beast, his broad form very noticeable in the gray suit he wore, a strange suit it was. It seemed far more simple, the coat was simply a matte gray with several patches on the shoulders and gold buttons, a white dress shirt, and a black-tie beneath it. In lew of dress shoes, he wore calf-high black boots.

He was armed, on his hip was a large revolver, across his chest was a silver automatic pistol. He was bald, his head beneath an officer's cap, his face was covered by a thick beard of gray and black that did little to hide how serious he was. He stood there, hands behind his back as the band continued on with the song. When the rather short song finally reached its end he walked over to the group and introduced himself to them in a much more calming way than his appearance let on:

"G'day to you fine ladies," he said "I am Military Governor Aaron Lee. Thatcher, son of Robert Edward. Lee. Thatcher Junior and Annabelle Louise Thatcher," he gave them each a firm handshake and asked them their names, each of them telling him, say for Pinkie Pie who merely stood silent. Aaron simply asked in a sympathetic voice "What's wrong, young lady?" She was still silent "I suppose it's none o' mah concern," he said, then he ushered them inside the town hall.

They went upstairs and into an office, at the center, there was a desk with a large gray box sitting atop it and a simple picture frame as well as a nameplate reading Military Governor A.L. Thatcher. On the walls were numerous filing cabinets and a fully stocked bookshelf, a wooden clock, and two paintings one of a man in a bicorn hat on a rearing horse, and another of an old man white-haired man wearing an old-style gray suit, both behind the desk on either side of a mirror and the man sitting at said desk.

"Now," he said rather quietly "Might I ask why you're here? Though I think I know the answer. You're here because we invaded and took over your town here,"

"That's exactly why we're here" responded Twilight, who was one of only two who were sitting. Rainbow Dash and Applejack stood behind both Twilight and Rarity with guns in hand. Fluttershy stood between the two and Pinkie Pie who claimed she was going to her family's home outside of town. "What brought on this invasion, why are you here?"

"That's confidential information," he responded leaning back in his swivel chair "The War Office of the Confederate States of America is not allowed to expose such information,"

"WHO SAYS?" shouted Rainbow Dash

"I DO!" Thatcher returned, "I have half a mind to throw you out on your tales for such disrespect," he crossed his arms under his pistol. Twilight's violet eyes widened, it was like a cannon had struck her. It all came back to her in a flood of memory, the name, Aaron, the patch on his right shoulder, a blue cross, and a red field with thirteen stars. His face, a gray and black beard, the accent, his eyes were even a shade of emerald green. She fumbled with her words for a moment before finally asking:

"Do you know anything about..." she tried to remember exactly what his identity was "... CSSEC-001" Governor Thatcher's face turned to one of shock, he sat up in his chair with lightning speed.

"Where have you heard that name?" he questioned, almost angrily. Twilight stuttered in fear, Aaron slammed his heavy fist on the desk, knocking the picture frame on its face "TELL ME GODDAMN YOU!" he shouted, the two armed women aimed their guns at him to which he responded by putting his hand on the revolver at his hip "I have a quicker draw than all o' y'all" he said

"WE CAPTURED HIM!" Twilight shouted back in fear, Thatcher leaned his heavy form back in the chair, Sterness still crossing the lines on his aged face. She continued on in a more calm manner "He's being held in the dungeon at Canterlot, he's been detained there for almost a month," The massive man lifted himself up from the chair and turned to look out the window behind him, his hands folded behind his back.

"I'm afraid y'all are gonna have to leave," he said in his more calm and casual voice.

"What..?" responded Twilight confused. He turned his head to face them and responded:

"Leave now," his voice having regained the firmness. "And tell that Princess Celestia lady to expect a letter from the 'Office of Military Governor Thatcher' within the week," Twilight and her group turned to leave, but were stopped yet again by Thatcher "Wait a minute," he said as he made his way over to the bookshelf near the door. He pulled out a brown leather-bound book and handed it to the violet-haired woman. "A gift, the truest of books to ever exist in all of history"

She looked over its plain cover which simply read Holy Bible and thanked the man before leaving out into the hot Equestrian air, confusion as to whether or not they had accomplished anything overcoming the five girls as they returned to the train minus one friend.

The Indestructible Man

June 13th, 1902

Ponyville Equestria

The loud ringing bell of her alarm clock jolted Pinkie from her sleep, yet another morning at Sugarcube Corners. Pinkie leaped up from her bed and landed on the floor perfectly on her feet, hands stretched into the air. Pinkie was young with skin paler than most. Her figure was curvaceous with shorter stature to match, her hair was pink, curly, and bouncy, it seemed to change depending on how she felt. And like usual, today she felt joyous, ready for another day of making the people of Ponyville happy with sweet treats.

She slipped off her nightgown and grabbed a pink dress out of the dresser placed at the end of her bed and slipped in on. She left her room by going down an iron spiral staircase that led directly to the kitchen. The kitchen was large in size, it was a fair bit smaller in size with red brick walls on all except for the northern wall. Two white gas stoves/ovens were on the southern wall, a large island in the center with a dome-shaped dishwasher at the center between two white enamel sinks.

Pinkie was by herself at this time, The Cakes were now in Manehattan on vacation and had left their most trusted employee, and resident of the bakery, in charge while they were away. Pinkie was proving to be amazing at her temporary new job as manager of Sugarcube Corners. While harder than just baking and making deliveries it did produce its share of fun as well. It gave her the opportunity to decorate the waiting area outside, it looked like a party was being thrown every day.

The previous night, Pinkie had made two dozen cupcakes to be delivered across town to a birthday party. They were in a white cardboard box on the counter next to one of the sinks with a note tacked to them, the address written on it. She grabbed a leather knapsack that hung next to the door leading out and sat it on the counter. Laying open she placed the white box inside and buckling it shut, put it on her back.

After putting the sack on her back she walked out of the kitchen and into the waiting area just behind the counter. She rounded the counter and approached the exit. Pinkie then unlocked the door, but before opening it, she grabbed something leaning on the wall next to it. It was a pink pogo stick which was her preferred form of transportation. It seemed no matter how high she bounced that whatever confectionery she was carrying would not be damaged in the slightest, it was one of the great mysteries of Pinkie Pie.

She stepped out the door and jumped onto the pogo stick, now hopping along to her destination. Hopping down the dirt paths through the village, she spotted damaged buildings one after the other. A strange windstorm had swiftly ravaged the town, damaging houses, and buildings. Knocking the rooves off houses, ripping walls out, shattering windows, even knocking entire houses down, luckily no one was seriously harmed.

She continued on, passing a steam crane steaming along down the road, piston chuffing and big wheels turning slowly. She waved at them as they passed, and the men riding on it waved back to her as she hopped by, poofy pink hair bouncing. She continued on, going down different streets and roads, heading straight on to her customer. Until she spotted someone walking towards her down a westward-facing straight section of road.

This person stood out, she couldn't see their face since they wore a turned-down stetson-style hat. but, she knew that they were a man just by the bit of beard that was visible, and from his broad form. His clothes stood out as well, he wore a gray trenchcoat stretching past his knees, strange patches on the shoulder and the chest, both faded. His left arm looked normal, a gray sleeve with a black leather glove at the end.

His right, however, was strange, his sleeve had been torn off and an arm looking like that of a knight's steel armor was there, scuffed and beaten up but still holding up. Beneath his coat was strange armor, it looked to be a material that was matte gray in color, held together by black leather or something of that nature. His pants were made of an indiscernible gray material that was tucked into a pair of dark brown lace-up boots similar to combat boots.

People seemed to be afraid of the man, seeing as he was probably new to town and looked like some sort of wanderer it was no real surprise. Now Pinkie, being the welcoming person she was, bounced over to the man as he made long strides down the road. She slowed her bouncing down to a slower pace and managed to stay alongside the man, hopping backward next to him she introduced herself.

"Hello" she exclaimed cheerfully, to no response, she finally managed to get a look at his face though. It was aged with lines and wrinkles all over it, crow's feet were around his tired-looking eyes, and a gray and black beard covered his face.

"My name is Pinkie Pie, what's yours?" he ignored her still, Pinkie tapped his shoulder with one of her hands and she was met with a sudden shove from his shoulder, knocking her to the ground on her rear end. A scowl formed on her face and she caught up to the man "Hey mister," the man stopped and turned to her, emerald green eyes glaring at her "That wasn't very nice o-"

She was cut short as the man grabbed her by the forehead with his massive hand. He pulled her closer and then threw her far away from him. Pinkie landed on her back, crushing the box of cupcakes in her knapsack. She sat up and rubbed her head, now she was really angry. Before she could get up a man approached him, he was a militiaman in a blue uniform and soldiers cap with black laced boots and a large shotgun in his hands.

"Excuse me sir, but I'm gonna have to ask you to apologize to Miss Pie over there," said the young blue-haired militiaman to the tall stranger sternly. The tall man looked down at the militiaman, no emotion on his face. Like lightning, his left hand shot out and gripped the man's throat in its entirety, he then lifted the man up to face him as the soldier dropped his shotgun with a metallic thud.

"Who do you answer to?" were the only words that came from the tall man's mouth in an almost unnaturally deep voice, it seemed mechanical almost. The militiaman gave no answer, only choked gasps and splitters as he clawed at the tall man's hand. "I said, WHO DO YOU ANSWER TO!?" his voice echoed, seemingly shaking the ground. Again there came only choked gasps. "Useless" muttered the man now tightening his grasp around the man's neck.

His eyes began to bulge and turn bloodshot and his fair skin began to turn a pale gray as his gasps became more desperate. Then with a sickening crunch, he was dead. The militiaman was cast aside like garbage, he landed near Pinkie, blood drooling from his mouth, his eye blank, locking the pink-haired girl in a state of shock. The people of Ponyville stood shocked as the man continued his walk down the road.

The toll of a bell began to echo over the village, causing him to stop and look around as the people began to run away, except for Pinkie Pie, who stared at the corpse before her. It wasn't long before other Militiamen began arriving, all wearing the same blue with some wearing just normal clothes as well. They carried repeating rifles, shotguns revolvers, single-shot Rolling Block rifles, bolt actions, and even primitive caplock and flintlock rifles and muskets.

They all hurried, knocking over carts and market stalls to form makeshift barricades to protect themselves against the man. They ducked behind them, guns at the ready. The man stood facing down, still like he was just a mannequin, his hat concealing his face. The militiamen all stood up and aimed their numerous guns at him, the aggressor slowly raised his head to look at them.

"FIRE!" Shouted an older man with a thick white mustache and old revolver in hand. With that order, all of the guns began to fire. Thick clouds of billowing gray smoke-filled air as did loud thunderous cracks from all manner of guns. "CEASE FIRE!" the old man cried, followed by the ceasing of all gunshots. Silence crept over that road as all the militiamen stopped their guns. The men waited anxiously as the smoke settled, hoping that their gunshots had been enough to take the man down.

They were horrified when the smoke finally cleared and the man stood standing there unmoved. A massive wound was on his left cheek, a wound so big and deep that it looked like the entire cheek had been blown off. Blood-stained teeth and gums showed where the cheek should have been and blood stained the black hairs of his beard. Horrified the men watched as his face seemed to reform right before their eyes in an almost grotesque manner.

The muscles seemed to stretch from the top and bottom, meeting in the middle and connecting, this continued until the muscles in his face were fully formed. The skin followed the white fleshy form covered the muscle, and his face was returned to normal, not even a scar remained. The aggressor was now obviously angered, he swept his trenchcoat back with his right hand, pulling out a massive gun from its folds.

The weapon was entirely made from black steel, It had a stock made from steel shaped like a rifle butt that met a receiver with a massive chamber, a charging handle above, a closer look would show that it had small notches carved all over the sides of the receiver. The barrel was long with what looked like another gun underneath with a wooden pistol grip like the one of the main gun and a pump similar to a shotgun with a massive barrel. Beneath the gun was appeared the be a massive drum-shaped magazine, a leather sling around his neck held the steel beast up.

The tall, hulking aggressor gripped the gun in his right hand and pulled the charging handle with his left, chambering the firearm's massive brass cartridge. The bolt of the gun closed with a loud clunk, aiming the gun towards the barricades he squeezed the trigger. and a torrent of bullets rained from its barrel. The thunderous roar of bullets exiting its bore drowned out the cracking and snapping as the wood of their makeshift barricades was demolished like wet paper.

Dirt and wood splinters choked the air with thick clouds of shrapnel and dark brown earth. he continued until the drum magazine had been emptied into his opponents. There stood the obliterated remains of their barricades, in massive splinters of wood, and the gory mess of blood and guts that had once been the militiamen.

"Target Neutralized" were the only words to come from the tall man's mouth as pressed a button on the side of his gun. With a clang, the old magazine fell to the ground and a new one was inserted into the receiver from his coat. He pulled back the charging handle and continued forward. Snapping out of her shock, Pinkie jumped up and began to run in the opposite direction of the man. The aggressor turned to look at the running girl but turned away as she was not important.

He slowly walked past the carnage he had produced, stepping over the obliterated corpses and puddles of crimson blood. Shouting came from just ahead, causing him to halt in his tracks. Militiamen came running from just ahead of him, coming from the northeast behind a building. They all donned blue and carried similarly miscellaneous weapons to the last group. Only this time they were accompanied by a horse-drawn wagon, a water-cooled heavy machine gun mounted on its back.

The men manning this gun ready their weapons and began to rain down bullet after bullet on him. Thinking fast, the tall man concealed himself between two houses, keeping his gun tucked closely. He reached into his coat and pulled out a large bullet, it was stubby but was massive and had a pointed end. He pushed the pump of his secondary gun forward, opening its breech. He inserted the shell into the breech and closed it.

He grabbed the forward grip and slowly stuck the gun out, lining up the machine gun in his sights, then he shouted:

"ENGAGING GRENADE!" then he pulled the trigger. The gun did not make a bang as much as it made a sort of thumping sound, followed by a firework-like whistle. The shot made contact with the wagon and exploded, in a hail storm of shrapnel and fire, killing many of the men instantly, injuring others, and knocking them over. The man jumped out from his hiding spot and began to target soldiers as they stood up, shooting them with his massive gun.

The bullets seemed to cause his enemies to explode, shattering ribs and tearing entire limbs off in bursts of thunderous shot. Then he felt it, a bayonet had been forced through his armor and into his side. He felt no pain, rather it was more like an itching tingle, he turned to face his aggressor. He found himself staring at a young woman, her hair was long and blonde underneath a brown Stetson. For a woman, she was more muscular and was taller, she wore old farm clothes, dirty trousers, and a dirty button-down shirt.

Her bayonet was mounted on the barrel of a pump-action shotgun. With rage, she pulled the bayonet from his side and pointed her gun up at the man. With a squeeze of her trigger, shot blew from its barrel, scattering led over the face of this tall man. Her anger turned to horror as the smoke cleared, there he stood, the left side of his face blown off, revealing nothing but black bone, covered with flesh and blood, a green eye sitting unharmed in its socket.

What was left of his face displayed no emotion, as his face reformed itself, he wrapped his massive hand around his attacker's neck. Lifting her tall form off of the ground he said:

"Who do you an-"

He was cut short as he felt cold steel wrap itself around his neck, he dropped the girl and grabbed at the steel shackle with both his hands. Then there was pain, real pain as the familiar stabs of electrical shock coursed through the shackle and into his body. He collapsed to the ground, still gripping the shackle as screams of pain were cried out in a deep, thunderous voice. Then another shackle wrapped around his left arm as more pulses of electricity coursed their way through his body.

His left arm was yanked free as he turned to see who had done this. Above him hovered numerous winged soldiers in azure uniforms marked by golden lightning bolts, submachine guns hanging loosely at their sides, their faces concealed by masks and goggles. Another shackle wrapped itself around his right arm, which bore no feeling, but still, he could not fight the pain. The pain ground into him like an auger until he finally collapsed entirely. Knocked out cold, he lay motionless on the ground until the remaining militiamen picked him up and carried him away.