Black Tulip

by The White devil

Rating: mature
Tags: Cutie Mark Crusaders, Tragedy, Profanity, Violence, Princess Celestia, Sex, Death, Human, Main 6, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Second Person, Dark, Sad, Other, Princess Luna
Length: 10298

A soldier from the Soviet-Afghan war finds himself in Equestria.

I no longer see right or wrong, only life or death. Afghanistan ruined my soul, mortally wounded it spiritually, physically, and literally. I shouldn't be here, I shouldn't be alive, I probably should be dead.

I never truly believed in a god, but I probably do now considering that I cannot think of any other reason behind my cursed arrival.

I should be in a black tulip, flying over the mountains, back to my homeland. But instead, I'm trapped on a foreign planet with miniature horses trying to help me. That makes me laugh. I should be dead.

Published 2022-05-15 02:20:01 UTC
Last updated 2022-05-22 00:11:30 UTC

Oh, Afghanistan.

Black Tulip

From: Kandahar, Afghanistan.
To: Elbasan, Albania.
July 27th, 1988.

privet sestronka

The engine rumbled and roared with diesel-fueled rage as the truck drove up the poorly paved dirt road. I was sweltering in the damn desert heat, I could hardly swallow or even breathe. The heat was that intense. I felt like my soul had been sucked out of my body. As the immense heat sapped my energy like a man draining a tree of its sap, it was awful.

The truck’s cabin was filled with a horrid and suffocating cloud of dust and exhaust fumes. If it wasn’t for the windows we would have died of carbon monoxide poisoning long ago. We should’ve been more worried about the fumes and not the Dushman. My lungs burned like I had swallowed a mouthful of habanero seeds. I hacked and coughed, trying to get the smoke and dust out of my godamned lungs. It was killing me.

I was forced to attack another supply convoy today. The trip was quite rough, to say the least, and the heat was searing. I could hardly breathe through all the smoke and sand.

The ride was bumpy, to say the least, every single part of this car and thing inside it rattled and shook. It seemed like the truck could fall apart at any moment and we’d be stuck in the middle of the desert. With hardly anything other than a few radios for communications equipment. Not that I would be able to say or hear anything since all the noise is screwing with my godamn tinnitus.

I tried to focus on something else by tapping on the floor with my feet. Only for it to stomp on an old pack of cigarettes and sandwich wrapper. The sound made my ears scream. But that was nothing compared to the pain I felt when a certain fucker turned on a small cassette player.

“Godamnit!” I shouted in pain, letting go of my rifle and putting my hands over my ears. “Turn the music down, right the fuck now!”

“I can’t hear you, man!” The driver yelled back.

“You heard me, Ivan! Your piece of shit!” I screamed, Ivan laughed as the music got louder. My heart skipped a beat as my knuckles turned white and my face went beet red. I was shaking with rage, trying to raise my body temperature so I could incinerate everyone with my rage.

“I SAID TURN IT DOWN!!” I roared, slamming my balled-up fist against the radio with so much force that it smashed the front of it into numerous pieces.

“What the fuck, Roman!” Ivan yelled in anger, he wasn’t happy about his good times not rolling.

Me and my comrades were at it again. We were all shouting at each other about the radio and Ivan's poor taste in music. I wish his last conversation with anyone or anything didn't have to end like that.

“My ears already hurt enough you stupid piece of fucking shit!” I replied, “I didn’t know that it was causing your ears to hurt you damn prick!” He screamed with delusional indignation.

“Bullshit! Bull-fucking-shit! We’ve debated this before asshole, you’re the one who decided to be an ass and rape my ears with that stupid music!” I ranted, my voice cracking and breaking as I coughed and groaned in pain.

“The hell it is! My music isn’t stupid, you’re the stupid!”

“What the fuck’s a stupid-!?”

Ivan opened his mouth to shout once again, but that wasn’t to be. A bullet screeched by, tearing through his throat causing blood to pour out of his voice box. He slammed on the breaks as fast as he could, and the truck skidded to a halt as Ivan applied pressure to his torn open throat.

Ivan is dead. He was shot in the throat with a Pakistani-built 7.62×39mm bullet. I remember the sickening gurgles and the gasps for air. It looked like a waterfall, a blood fall.

Many more bullets whizzed through the air. Some smashed through the windshield and back windows, I grabbed my rifle and opened fire in the general direction of the dushmen. Jamsheed jumped out and ran towards a large boulder, armed with an old RPG. Vasily covered us with the DShK mounted on the back of the truck.

I tried to remove Ivan from the truck but a hail of bullets slammed into his torso, sending him face-first into the steering wheel. More bullets came my way prompting me to bail out and run for cover. Firmly gripping my rifle I sprinted towards Jamsheed, I collapsed next to the disgruntled middle eastern man. My heart was going faster than a Shelby cobra on adrenaline and steroids. Sweat poured down my brow by the bucket-full, burning my eyes as it mixed with the dust, tar, and petrol that coated my face.

Everything went to hell in a handbasket faster than the speed of light. Bullets whistled a tune of pain and suffering, slamming into the dirt with the grace of death. If Vasily wasn't on the machine gun, we would all be on a black tulip inbound for Moscow.

Every nerve in my body was on fire, I could hardly function as my ears rang violently and my vision blurred heavily. Debris flew as many shells and bullets slammed into the dirt, the shells exploding in a cloud of nearly molten metal shards and hot gravel and dust. The dust caused my lungs to scream in agony. I hacked and coughed trying to get the dust out of my body. I couldn’t see or hear anything. I could only see blurry splotches of light or silhouettes and hear the hellish chaos of war.

My eyes burned like the fires of hell, sharp stabs from a molten knife directed at my damned eyes. My excessive sweating caused the concoction of various things to flow into my eyes. I just hope that I don't go blind.

Eventually, my vision somewhat came back to me as I removed a large amount of the tar from my face and eyes. Only for me to turn around and see a group of tanned men on horseback barreling towards us. Thankfully, Oleg managed to suppress the bastards with a machine gun. Our luck was finally turning around when Jamsheed annihilated a small group of dushmen armed with mortars.

“You two! Follow me godamnit!” I ordered as I sprinted back to the truck. My feet pounded against the scorching hot gravel and dirt, my heart pounding like a piston against my frail ribs.

Adrenaline made me go faster than a fucking airplane. Bullets whistled past me, I couldn’t hear them over the adrenaline and tinnitus. My skin was blistering and sizzling in the hot Afghani sunlight, hot enough to fry an egg. My hand wrapped around the seering hot handle to the passenger side door, the metal boiling my reddened flesh. It flew open as the car beeped and rang because nobody was wearing a seatbelt.

I pushed Ivan out of the driver’s seat and started the engine, the bastards tried to hit the hood with a shell. In exchange, Jamshed fired another rocket which sent the mangled corpses of two Afghani kids flying. Oleg hopped into the passenger’s seat as Jamsheed jumped in the back.

I slammed my foot onto the pedal and drove towards those mujahideen bastards. I wasn’t able to hear much of anything due to the intense ringing. However, there was one thing I could hear, and that was my teeth grinding into dust and my knuckles turning bone white.

The rage burned my chest like hellfire as I sped down the road like a bat out of hell. A hail of gunfire was thrown at us but the truck could take the hits and dodge the rest. The mujahideen tried to fall back but we continued to pursue and assault them. Violently. Very, very violently.

I took control of the wheel soon after we fought back the waves of dushmen. Mujahideen. Terrorists. I chased after them, we ended up killing two children in the process. I can still remember the look of horror plastered on both children's faces. The sound of their bodies hitting the floor and being crushed by the truck wheels. It was awful.

We managed to wipe out most of the godamn bastards, leaving only a few severely wounded men. As well as some disarmed and isolated Afghani children behind. Vasily pointed the giant machine gun at the group of men and children. I quickly got out of the driver’s seat and pointed my rifle at the group. I ordered them to lay on their stomachs and have their hands flat on the ground. And they obliged.

We quickly cornered the bastards and surrounded them. There were only wounded men, women, and children left. The rest fled like cowards. Leaving mostly defenseless people behind to get killed. Cowardly bastards.

I motioned for Vasily to search the prisoners, Alexi to stand at my side, and Oleg to switch to Vasily’s position as the truck gunner. They all followed my demands. Vasily ran over to the small disarmed group of wounded men and children. His gear rattled and made noise as he ran across the hot desert sand.
He patted down every each and one of the prisoners, confiscating many objects. Many knives, handmade pistols, Shotty grenades, and such weapons.

He continued his way down the row of people, eventually, he was left with only a single child left to search. The child looked to be no older or younger than seven years old, he was covered in soot and hot sand. Scrapes, bruises, and burns covered his frail form. Vasily reached down to check his hands, for some reason the kid had his hands balled up behind his back. Which alarmed vasily, but he didn’t want to scare the kid, so he grabbed a hold of the wrist.

The kid’s eyes flashed with fright and anger. He immediately retracted his wrists and kicked Vasily in the stomach hard, right in the spleen. Vasily fell over like ten pounds of shit in a five-pound bag. The kid stood up and pulled the pin on a grenade that was hidden in his hand and threw it at Vasily.

Vasily, he's missing one of his legs and the other is hanging by a quarter of a tendon. Some Afghani child hid a grenade in his hand, I tasked Vasily with searching the prisoners. I crippled my friend, Besjana. I mutilated him! He's now on crutches because I ordered him to search the captives. And I murdered a child in the process, nay, I gunned down a child.

I levied my rifle and fired at the small child, and so did Alexi, Oleg, and Jamsheed. We peppered the child with numerous hails of gunfire in our blind rage. Our outburst caused us to ignore Vasily and piss off the prisoners. They promptly started to run in the other direction or right at us. All hell broke loose soon after.

One of the men grabbed onto the upper receiver of my rifle and punched me square in the nose with enough force to break it. Blood poured out like a waterfall and I struck him with my elbow causing him to keel over. I slammed the buttstock with enough force to shatter his lower jawline. He managed to dodge one of my blows and kick me in the stomach. The pain was sharp and it took the air out of my lungs like a damn vacuum, I dropped the rifle as the pain was too much to handle. The bastard punched me in the teeth, knocking out a tooth.

As he stood up, he reached for something in his long white robe, I was too dazed to do much. Until I saw something shine in the light above me, I looked up to see the bastard holding a large hunting knife. He tried to bring it down onto my throat psycho-shower style but I used my arm to block the blade.

We struggled for quite a bit, but the stalemate was broken when I finally managed to strike him in the solar plexus with my knee. He fell onto his knees as I twisted his arm and hit him in the jaw with my elbow. Knocking out several teeth. I ripped the knife out of his hands and stabbed him in the eyes with it.

I killed a man too. I've killed many men, yes, but this one grabbed a hold of my gun and punched me in the face. He forced me into a situation where I had to kill him with my knife. It was unholy, it was torturous, and I am a monster for participating.

He shrieked in pain and terror as I mutilated both his eyes. But the screaming soon turned to gurgles as I stabbed the knife through the side of his neck. Bloodshot out like a water fountain as I jammed the knife into his throat repeatedly. Slashing and stabbing ferociously like a psycho all the while he thrashed around
On the ground. Kicking feebly as I mutilated him with his blade. Tears tried to come out, but his eyes were far too damaged to do anything but bleed. Eventually, the gurgled screams and the thrashing stopped when I jammed the blade deep into his chest.

The man stopped moving, his eyes bulged out of his sockets. I pulled the knife out of his chest. The action made a sickening sound and sprayed my jacket and face with blood.
Blood was rapidly pumping out of his chest like a water faucet. A quiet croaking noise came out of the man's throat as he finally passed on.

I. I can barely write this. I stabbed the man's eyes out with his knife, Besjana! I am a monster straight from hell! I ripped his fucking throat out with a hunting knife and mutilated his face. Tearing and slashing like a madman on cocaine, the screams and cries haunt my soul. I haven't slept a single hour in the last week, every time I try I relive all the blood and fright. As I tore his throat and face open with a godamn hunting knife!

The blood in my veins was still boiling even after the bastard died. Everything was in pain. Including my damned soul. There was a large dark purple and black bruise right where he kicked me. Right in my kidney. The pain was so intense that I seethed from lightly rubbing the bruise. I could hardly breathe or move as every breath felt like a sharp hot knife was getting stabbed into my lungs. My jaw and nose dully ached in pain as blood poured out of my face.

I could barely stumble onto my knees, let alone two feet, but somehow I managed to stand up through all the burning anguish. I wheezed as I swallowed a mouthful of dust. The hot sand burned the inside of my mouth, throat, and even lungs. But my mind forced my body to continue forth through the pain and anguish.

I searched the general area for my rifle, I found it lying on the gravel a few feet away. I stumbled over to the weapon and bent over, I seethed in pure, unadulterated agony as my chest and backlit on fire. Every nerve ending, every muscle fiber, every organ, and piece of bone was screaming in pain. I could hardly grab the gun and stand up without screaming. I barely managed to retrieve my weapon without passing out, I threw it over my shoulder and collapsed on the ground.
The hot sand burned my rear but I didn’t give a damn.

My body was wrecked by the fight. Both of our blood had stained each other. There were dark purple and black spots from where he struck me. My ears are ringing as my head dully aches and vibrates. Blood coated both of my hands, giving them a distinct smell. My face and arms were covered with scraps and slashes, I had been stabbed in the stomach twice and once in the shoulder. Nowhere direly vital.

I looked over towards the prisoners, only to see that none remained, except a few gunned-down corpses. They were trying to lift a badly crippled Vasily and place him in the back cab of the truck. A red rubber tourniquet was tied around his right leg, the left one was destroyed leaving only a disfigured stump behind. The sight would have caused me to gag had I not borne witness to similar sights many times before. It’s a shame it had to be Vasily though, and not some worthless army conscript who just arrived.

Nothing else happened this damned day. I’ll be lucky if I can even sneak this letter to you, sestronka. Yes, I know that word is not from our language, but I would rather write in the language I’ve used for the past five years. Then one I have hardly heard of since at least the seventies.

Dosvedonya, sestronka, don’t tell anyone where I am. Tell them I am dead, or in neverland. Just don’t tell them I’m in Afghan, besjana.

Your little brother, Rahid ibn Hadid.

Author's Note

~~To the seven people who disliked the story almost instantly. Can you give me criticism, please?~~

Edit 5/15/22: Holy fuck there were a lot of errors. I fixed them, though, so no worries. Now I understand somewhat why the story got heavily disliked.

The deadly forest

Black Tulip

"Fuck!"

I shot up in a terrible fright, sweat drenching my clothes as my heart slammed against my ribs like a wild jackrabbit. My body was shaking violently as the memories of previous engagements wreck my psyche. A light breeze blew my hair back, and the smell of fresh air and burning rubber filled my senses.

Wait, burning rubber?

I turned around to see what was creating that smell. To my horror, the helicopter was now a smoldering wreck. Inside was five charred dead bodies. Their eyes had completely melted to go, faces plastered with an eternal look of fear and pain. Bile rose in my throat as I felt my stomach-churning.

M-my friends! My only friends!

My hands shook and my vision blurred, I felt my guts get tied up in a tightening knot. A heavy molten weight pulled my heart down to my stomach whilst burning it. Tears poured out of my tired eyes as I watched my world burn in front of me. My old life and whatever remained from the days of innocence, and childhood, are now dead in a Soviet helicopter.

Welcome, to the soldier side... There is no one here but me.

I didn't sob though. I didn't mourn, I simply grabbed my gun and tightened my gear. Turning around, I saw a dense forest behind me. Maybe we're in the Nuristan national forest reserve? I didn't know but I didn't care anymore. I began to walk through the thicket.

Every bone and muscle fiber ached as I trudged through the thick forest. Crickets chirping, branches snapping, owls hooting, water flowing, every sound gave me a miniature heart attack. The temperature only lowered the further I ventured into the deathly forest. Feline eyes observed my every move. The eyes stalked me, preparing for the opportune time to strike me down. My hands shook ever slightly as I held the old rifle in my bloodied hands. My eyes felt like they were going to bleed yet my face was numb. Damn fatigue.

I stumbled across an extensive swamp, the sound of buzzing bugs and the thick swamp water made my stomach churl a little. It was a truly disgusting sound. But I had to soldier on regardless of my wants, my needs require me to traverse this swamp.

Slowly I moved through the swamp, my legs felt like twelve hundred pound blocks of lead. The swamp did not want to let them go, but I had no choice in the matter. My pace was slow and steady, if I took it fast I'd likely fall into the water. If I do fall, I won't have the energy to get out, drowning is not a fun way to die. Especially in Afghani shit water.

But is this even Afghanistan anymore? I have never seen a swamp in Afghanistan before. And I would know since I've been there for a long time. I don't know. And quite frankly, I don't care. Right now I need to get out of this swamp.

Thankfully, I didn't have to travel for that much longer in that damned swamp. Up ahead there was dry land again, and the forest was also starting to become less dense. I made my way towards the land, grabbing a hold of it and climbing out of the water. My body was drenched in mud and shit water, but my gear was mostly fine. I started walking through the forest again, the frigid breeze wreaked havoc on me but I pulled through. I had to. I don't want to die.

Hours went by, the pain was becoming more and more intolerable by the minute. I was freezing to death. I feel like I'm going to collapse and not get back up. Luckily, there was a clearing ahead, I was almost out of the damned forest. The bushes at the end of the forest sliced through my clothes and knicked my flesh. The wounds burned like fire as blood spilled down my skin. But I ignored them and marched through.

I managed to finally escape the forest, my heart skipped a beat as I stepped on bright green grass. Ahead of me was a beautiful plain of grass and flowers. To my left, I saw more plains, and to my right, I saw a large cottage in the distance. The cottage was rather small and it rested on top of a large hill. Not much else that I can say. Before I could even try to walk over to the cottage, my legs gave way and I plummeted to the ground.

And the world went black.

The sun was shining high in the sky, the breeze was very light and it carried the distinct smell of fresh flowers. Spring started a few weeks ago and they could already tell it was going to be a good year. Fluttershy had decided to go for a walk since it was such a great day. No thanks in part to the pegasi and the princesses.

My, what a beautiful day. Great weather as well, the weather ponies must've put 110℅ into their work.

She was trotting on the dirt road towards the forest, as she wanted to see something new. Take a small risk, which was highly unusual for the introverted mare to do. However, she decided to take the chance after the problem with iron will. She needed to build some confidence in her abilities.

The everfree had a very nasty reputation and for good reasons. The forest was, as far as they knew (which was very little), filled to the brim with many monsters. Manticores, Cockatrices, Usar majors, changelings, violent fairies, possibly undiscovered tribes, timber wolves, anomalies, and probably many more species that haven't been discovered yet. It was much like the ocean, only not tens of thousands of miles long and wide. Probably only a few hundred. Which is still a lot in its own right.

She was very astute when it came to the dangers of the everfree and its inhabitants. Even the plant life which you may assume she would gloss over, but in actuality, she didn't. The mare knows that she requires a fair understanding of the fauna and plants in the forest. Perhaps not as much as zecora, since she is not a witch doctor nor a botanist, but it is necessary in case one of her animals are poisoned by some plant. Or if she needs a special plant to properly treat a fairly common alignment.

The trail was pretty long and rather rough to walk on. Apparently, the people who paved it didn't put in that much effort, since the trail caused her hooves to sting a little bit. But it wasn't too bad, though. Just some mild discomfort and pain but easily ignored.
She trailed that path for what felt like hours. Fluttershy was just finally nearing the edge of the forest. The brush and foliage started to get thicker and rougher. Rose bushes, vines, small trees, and long dangling branches filled her vision and restricted her future movement.

She looked around a little bit, but she didn't see much of anything. Well, that was the case for a while, until she came across a large tan safari hat resting on the ground. The tan color contrasted greatly with the vibrant green plants that surrounded it. Plus, the grass was very short, and the flowers weren't much bigger.

What is this? Oh my, I hope nopony got lost in here. She thought, picking the hat up to examine it.

She examined it for quite a while. Taking in every detail of the hat as if she had just discovered a new species. The hat was large, arguably bigger than her head. It was made of a tan khaki material with a few holes put in the top for air to enter. A long leather strap was wrapped around the base of the hat, a small red, star-shaped pin was stuck on the strap. Presumably on the front of the hat.

The little red star and the overall design were what perplexed Fluttershy. The hat was likely produced for prolonged ventures in very hot parts of the world. Likely very sandy areas; such as saddle Arabia or Yakistan. She concluded this due to the air holes, the tan color, and the safari hat shape. What she couldn't understand was the little pin.

It was a red star with a hammer and sickle imprinted onto the star. It was painted red and a urine yellow, which contrasted poorly with the tan hat. Although, the pin was small enough that you would have to be using some kind of optic to notice it. She decided to put the hat on her head to see if it fit. Remarkably, it did, which surprised her immensely. It was comfortable too. Albeit a bit damp from some fluid, probably sweat.
She decided to look for whom the hat belonged to. Because she didn't want to steal it.

She searched the area for quite a while, leaving no stone unturned. Eventually, she saw a great, big dark greenish-brown blob. Fluttershy walked over to the blob. As she approached it, she quickly realized it was a creature. And the closer she got the more and more details she could make out.

It was a monkey-like thing, yet, it was mostly hairless, except for some hair on top of its head and some hairs on its face. It was wearing camouflage that covered most of its body. A bunch of pouches and an olive drab vest were strapped to its chest. Its face was covered in blood and tar-like soot and the creature's legs were mangled. Blood poured onto the grass turning it dark crimson.

Oh... My...

In caring hands

Black Tulip

"Twilight!" Fluttershy yelled, frantically knocking on her door. The poor mare's heart was going faster than the concord jet, as the creature she found was groaning in pain as it bled out.

The door flew open as a tired and disheveled lavender unicorn stood in the doorway. Her face adopting the iconic Chinese look with her eyes being half-open. She scowled as the sun practically deep-fried her eyes, can't she just get some time to sleep. However, that scowl and general overall look quickly faded. When she saw the broken mess that flutters brought.

"Ahhgh! Augh!" The creature screamed in pain, also screaming some colorful words in equish and another foreign language.

Its legs, more accurately, its shins and lower legs had been nearly destroyed entirely. Blood was seeping through the thick wads of crude bandages that fluttershy had applied. It was an alien creature, one that managed to speak too! It looked like an alien monkey and wore some crude equipment.

"Oh my Celestia! Quickly, get it inside!" Twilight all but shrieked as her eyes grew to the size of dinner plates.

Fluttershy obliged and along with twilight's help, dragged the poor creature into the treehouse. Albeit with very vulgar protest from the unknown being. At least its anger and pain mean it hasn't gone into shock yet. Though, unfortunately, the treehouse was not prepared for a scenario such as this. But this was Twilight Sparkle, she could probably do something.

The two mares dragged the creature to the kitchen since there is a very large table in there. Twilight cleared the table with her magic as fluttershy plopped the wounded being on top. It shouted a slew of racial slurs and immensely profane insults, however, it soon quieted down as twilight went to work. She removed its shoes and socks, then she rolled the pant legs up to assess the damage.

The creature's lower legs were needless to say, HEAVILY mutilated. They were barely holding on, just by some bits of skin and tendons. Blood was pouring out of the wounds. Making the room smell like copper whilst causing everything to be slippery. The culprit behind the extensive damage was metal fragments. Hundreds of metal bits and parts were stuck deep within the creature's body.

"Dear God..." Twilight said as she rolled up the creature's pant leg. She winced when her eyes meet the mutilated appendages, bile rose in her throat. She felt nauseous. She felt like she was going to vomit.

"Fluttershy! Get me a knife, matches, pliers, bandages, a bunch of matches, a needle, and thread!" Twilight shouted to the bewildered scotch pegasus, "And a midwife!"

April 30th, 1984.

We left the base early in the morning. I barely had enough time to take a fucking piss and a shit. Thankfully, I managed to do so before our commander came in telling us to pack up. We're heading for the Panjshir valley, he said.

Those assholes were planning on sending us to that bloodbath of a valley. I heard the stories from some of the veterans who had survived the fifth and sixth offensives. And yet I have only been here for less than a few weeks and I was already getting sent off to die! Godamn bastards!

I prepared my gear like I always did; KZS suit over matuba uniform, Chicom rig over vest, helmet over the hat, Knapsack strapped to chest rig, sneakers instead of boots, and nonessentials in pouches on the waist and below. Nothing has changed really. I sling the old AKS-74 over my shoulder and carry an SVD in my hands. I load my rig and other pouches up with plenty of grenades and magazines.

We wait outside for the commander to give us the debriefing on our assignment. It took a long time for the old bastard to arrive but he did. Although, by the time he did, we had been thoroughly seared by the weather and our ankles were starting to ache. He quickly briefed us about the mission; our goal was to defend and provide air support for the 682nd motorized rifle regiment.

We waited for the sign. The pilots began to prepare their respective vehicles. After a few minutes, we finally received the signal. We ran to the nearest helicopter; an old Mi-8 helicopter with a camouflage paint job and additional weapons added to it. Making the damn thing very formidable in combat, more than it already was.

Our team commander stood to the side of the helicopter door, motioning us to get inside. He began to push whoever was closest into the helicopter. He did this for a while until we were all inside. After the last one entered he stepped into the vehicle and closed the door. All we had to do after that was set up some machine-gun posts at the windows and strap in for a long flight.

The inside of the helicopter was rather hot and claustrophobic, we didn't have a whole lot of light except for the circular windows but those were partially blocked by the machine gunners. And they're arguably more integral than being able to see very well right now. The space was rather small and cramped. Thanks in no part due to the fourteen other people crammed inside this helicopter.

it felt like the flight lasted hours; the only form of entertainment I had was the broken stereo that played old soviet music. Needless to say, the music was not uplifting in the slightest, hell most of it was depressing tsarist and old SSFR music. Back during the 1921 famine and several civil wars. As if we need to be reminded about the numerous horrific events whilst we're fighting in this desert hellhole.

Eventually, we neared the location where we were to be dropped off at. The door opened and we began to exit the helicopter single file. Two other helicopters landed right after we started to exit ours. Once we were all on solid land again, we were a large group, at least forty paratroopers. And an unknown number of special forces and army scouts.

We waited for the last two helicopters to come as they were scheduled to. Eventually, they did. However, these guys were different. They didn't wear berets or patches or much of anything other than equipment. They mainly carried grenade launchers and PKM machine guns. They wore laced boots too, very few wore those. They even had scopes and suppressors on the few rifles they had that weren't designated as grenade launchers. And their fatigues were a white-ish color instead of khaki like ours were.

They definitely weren't regular soldiers or even paratroopers. They're special ones.

The Valley was dead. The BTRs had been abandoned by the companies worth of men that had marched through this valley. The stone gravel path into the valley was soaked with blood. The further we traveled into the valley, the bloodier the path became. We then began to come across mutilated and rotting bodies. The stench of horrible. It was like the battle of somme, but arguably worse.

We eventually came under fire from heavy weapons, I saw many men get gunned down. My stomach churned and my body tried to purge my stomach. I retreated to a large boulder, and my friend Leonid followed closely behind along with two other soldiers.
Everything was going to shit.

The incessant sound of gunfire and blood-curdling screams of agony made my ears ring. I could feel my brain vibrating like a car engine as I shot at the muzzle flashes. A sixty-two-millimeter mortar slammed into the large boulder, yet the rock was too thick. However, the skin on my back was roasted by the heat. I shrieked as the nerves in my spine roared with the rage of a dragon.

My knees buckled under the weight of my gear and the immense anguish. I plummeted to the ground and landed on my floating ribs with enough force to shatter them. I suddenly became breathless; I could not breathe even if my life depended on it. Which it certainly did. However, my broken body didn't care.

Leonid got on his knee and assessed the damage on me, a bullet soon after struck his helmet. My heart sunk deep below my stomach as everything froze. He fell to the ground. I felt like I was going to scream, but I couldn't breathe, I have no mouth and I must scream.

'Oh god, please no, not him. Oh please god'

Leonid groaned as he held his helmet, I felt my heart slam forward against my broken ribs as I shot up. I ran through the gunfire and the flames to my best friend. I grabbed him by the air pits and dragged him to cover.
Once I stopped dragging him, I took his helmet off and assessed the damage. To my relief, there was no damage other than a massive bruise and bleeding from the bare metal stabbing into his temple. The bleeding was mild, though. However, there was a large dent in his helmet from where the bullet must've ricocheted.

"Fuck... My ears are ringing like a godamn telephone, euugh..." Leonid grunted as he clutched his head, the only thing on it now was a sweaty afghanka.

"Here man, take your damn helmet before one of those bastards blows your head off," I said sternly, handing my friend his dented helmet. He huffed as he took it from my hands.

"Yeah, whatever, not like I'll ever get that lucky... HOLY FUCK!" He yelled as another mortar landed to our right. Killing and maiming a small trio of fellow soldiers.

felt like my heart was going to explode right there and then. But my friend pulled me out of that trace of the duality of death. "Well, I guess they got fucked up the ass just like our instructor predicted, eh man?" One of the soldiers who followed us said.

"Yeah, fucked right up the ass. You can even see the blood coming out, that's how you know someone rammed their cock into you!"
The other one shouted.

"I WILL fuck YOU up the ASS!" Leonid screamed at the mujahideen fuckers on the hill, he could barely finish the sentence without laughing.

"Cum on down for an ass fucking! 100% discount on it!" I shouted back,

Leonid and the others laughed. "Approved by the GFA!" Leonid yelled.

"What does GFA mean?" I asked.

"The Great Faggot Allah!"

I nearly keeled over and died from laughing all the air out of my lungs. I couldn't breathe and tears were cumming out of my eyes. "We beat the STIFFEST competition!"

"Bwahahaha!" I fell backward on my ass, I cracked my head on the boulder behind me, but my helmet mostly protected me.

"Summer blowout!" One of the new guys shouted, "Armed Forces Day! semen get 100% off!" Leonid followed up with.

The four of us just laughed our asses off as we shouted obscenities and sex jokes at the mujahideen. Of course, this caused most of the gunfire and explosives to get thrown at us. However, those dumb fucking Afghani monkeys underestimated our giant fucking man sized rock.

"Stupid sand niggers." Leonid muttered, one of the soldiers who followed us looked at him with wide eyes. "Woah, holy shit man." He saId.

"What? They're sand niggers. Niggers from the sand." Leonid replied nonchalantly.

"Where the hell did you hear shit like that?" The soldier asked, "The commander keeps on screaming about the 'sand niggers' and how he wishes to 'fuck them all to death'."

The soldier just looks at Leonid in silence. His friend looks like he's about to burst with laughter. I just sat in between them not caring or really understanding what they're talking about.

"You do know that is a racial slur, right?" He asked Leonid, "I thought they were called sand niggers." At that point, the other soldier can't hold his laughter in and ends up falling ass-backward.

"Hahaha! Sand niggers! You believe that their name is Sand niggers!?"

"Yeah! That's literally what they are called!" Leonid shouts defensively, "No you jackass they're called mujahideen; holy warriors. Well, that's roughly what it is translated as."

"Oh."

"Yeah, it's not their name. That's a slur." He replied, "Then why the hell would the commander say shit like that?" Leonid asked.

"Because he's an old racist asshole who fought in the great patriotic war."

"What's the great patriotic war?" Leonid asked, the soldier deadpans as his friend just ends up laughing harder. To the point of sounding like a jackal.

"Oh for the love of God. It's the second world war you dipshit? What are you from Africa, godamn." He facepalmed.

"You're really not from, well, the union are you?" He asked, "No, I'm from Yugoslavia!"

"Pfff... Hahaha!" The soldier's friend collapses once again. "Sure. So, you're from the remote part of the union, right? I'm going to assume your friend is from Kazakhstan because he looks like he's been tanning in the sun for a decade. And you are from... Georgia."

"Actuall-" I interrupted Leonid before he could fuck anything up. "Yes, we're exactly from those areas! Leonid is from Rustavi and I am from Zhairem. The cities of Rustavi and Zhairem. I come from Zhairem, Kazakhstan. And he comes from Rustavi Georgia."

"Okay..." The soldier trails off. "So you're Leonid and he is...?"

"No, he's Leonid and I'm Rahid. Although I prefer the name Romanov." I answer truthfully.

'Right. Well nice to meet you Rahid and Leonid. Since I know your names I think I should tell you our names." The soldier says, clearing his throat. "I'm Alexi..." He turns around and points at the other soldier.

"And that retard who's laughing like a hyena about to get shot in the mouth is Vasily." He finished with.

"Well, it's nice to meet you two. Maybe we'll see each other again if we survive this battle."
I said, "Maybe."

And with that, we parted ways and continued to fight the mujahideen..

Twilight sparkle was not a doctor in the slightest.

She had very little actual expertise and skill in medicine; especially emergency medicine and trauma surgery. She shouldn't be the one trying to fix this alien creature's mangled shins. A trauma surgeon should be doing this, not a librarian with powerful magical capabilities. Or at the very least a doctor.

The whole kitchen table was covered in blood. The creature had long since lost consciousness from unbearable amounts of pain and acute shock. She had barely kept his body from falling apart, as she removed bits of fragmented metal out of his legs. Hardly any of her tools were sterile, to begin with, now they're covered in its crimson bodily fluids. She did wash her hooves, but now those were soaked in blood. And the wash clothes and torn curtains and bedsheets were not clean. She did, however, remove most of the shrapnel while leaving a large number of nerves and tendons (mostly) intact.

Now was the hard part; suturing and bandaging the legs so that they won't fall off, stop bleeding all over her kitchen, and heal. She used her magic to move one of the legs around a bit. Carefully positioning the heavily damaged limb so as to not cause any more unnecessary damage. She then dipped a sewing needle in alcohol before trying a piece of thread to it.

The process was long and grueling, even the slightest mistake could cause irreparable damage. Especially since she was working with arteries, nerves, tendons, and the like. But thankfully, through sheer dumb luck or raw magical power. She succeeded in sewing the alien's right leg back. And although the other limb was trickier, she still managed to re-attach it without any issues.

"Alright, it's done," Twilight said as she placed the tools back on the table. She turned over to Fluttershy.

"Now, help me carry it."

An empty void beyond a crushing defeat

Black Tulip

Roman was in the void. An empty pitch black place. With no one around, only the sound of white noise and the feeling of weightlessness. His whole body felt like it didn't exist. The only thing denying that was the neverending feeling of apathy and cold numbness. It was horrifying.

He thought that if he could just, survive then he could go home. He could see his family; until whatever was left of his family died. His grandfather from a stroke, his uncle in a helicopter crash, his sister in a psychiatric hospital, and his father fought against Iran. And his mother... We don't talk about her.

He could only feel two things. Cold numbness and this ever-tightening knot in his gut. This cold crushing weight on his chest made what used to be his eyes burn. He can't escape, he doesn't even have eyes! Much less limbs to move!

It was a brutal bliss beyond a crushing defeat. He was finally at peace, but he could still think and feel.

I think... therefore, I am... Meaning that I am. I exist. So I must be alive! I must be able to escape! Right?

He tried to move but nothing happened. He tried again, but it was the same result. He tried to thrust himself forward, he tried to yell, kick, scream, shout, cry, and beg. But nothing. Nothing at all. He could almost hear the sound of his heart, shattering into a million pieces. His paper soul was crushed under the weight of a blackened freight train. He was dead, he was in hell. He would be stuck here... Forever.

Oh no! Oh no! Oh please God!

He choked down his sorrow. He continued to deny the reality of his eternal damnation. He struggled frivolously to move his form, even if he'd only be able to move a billionth of a nanoangstrom of his body. He'd be happy. But he couldn't even do that. He couldn't even move his body a single Planck unit in either direction. He no longer exists.

I... N-no longer... No. No, no-no-no. I think, therefore, I AM! I am! I exist! This means that I-i am NOT dead! I have to be alive, I cannot be dead."

It was becoming more and more evident that he was not going to be able to move or do anything. Except for think. He could only think, no more, no less. Only thought was left. The only thing that he had to prove that he was alive, was mere thoughts.

No photos, no home movies, no families, hardly any memories, no friends, no luxuries. Only the cold black vacuum of the void, and ominous white noise. And his shattered soul.

No... No... No. Oh nooo! Oh please God! Oh please God help me!

Twelve billion and nine-hundred million and three hundred thousand and one hundred and eighty-seven. Twelve billion and nine-hundred million and three hundred thousand and one hundred and eighty-eight. Twelve billion and nine-hundred million and three hundred thousand and one hundred and eighty-nine. Twelve billion and nine-hundred million and three hundred thousand and one hundred and ninety.

Twelve billion and nine-hundred million and three hundred thousand and one hundred and ninety seconds. Four hundred and eight years. That's how long I've been in this eternal hell. I can feel my sanity dwindling by the second. Every second I count, the less sane I become, the more I begin to lose grip of reality. It may be a harsh reality, but it's certainly better than the depths of insanity.

Twelve billion and nine-hundred million and nine hundred thousand and nine hundred and twenty-two seconds.

I've held onto a slim hope, a crack in the door that lets a bit of light in. I must not lose my mind. I must survive. Please, God help me. Oh please God.

I-I'm sorry for what I-I've done! Please let me go! Let me rest! PLEASE!

If I could cry, I would cry until my eyes go dry. If I could speak, I would scream until my lungs run out of air. Until mirrors and windows break into pieces. But I...

I...

I-I... I'm still, I-I'm still. I-I'm s-still alive. I have to be. I cannot be dead! It can't be! It can't be!! NO!!

Eighty-five billion and two hundred million and five hundred thousand and seven hundred and twenty-five. Eighty-five billion and two hundred million and five hundred thousand and seven hundred and twenty-six. Eighty-five billion and two hundred million and five hundred thousand and seven hundred and twenty-seven.

Hell is the impossibility of reason. There should be no reason that I have been... somewhere. For nearly two thousand years. The year would probably be 2525... No, wait, no no no... 3500! Yes, that's the-... wait, no

God-motherfucking-damnit! I lost count! I LOST FUCKING COUNT!! YOU SON OF A BITCH FUCKING FATHERFUCKING COCKFUCK!

For the past two millennia... I have counted. I have counted... I have counted. And I have forgotten. My anger... My wrath...

My wrath!

MY WRATH!!. CAN NOT BE DESCRIBED WITH MERE MORTAL WORDS!!

How many seconds have passed?... A trillion? A quintillion? A nonillion? Maybe a novemnonagintillion?

One... Two... Three... Five, damnit where was I? One... Two...

Floating in the neverending vacuum of the void, cold. So very cold. There is no one here but me. I'm... starting to mentally decay. I-I can't remember much, my brain won't cooperate. It probably can't, to be honest.
I'm losing myself to the cold vacuum of this damned space.

Hmm... Welcome, to the soldier side... There is no one here but me...

People... All grow up to die, there is no one here but me...

Nothing but the sound of silence to provide a distraction. Really, the only way I can distract from my situation is through sorrow and... arousal . The urge to have sex and the feeling of blissful agony is the only thing keeping me from losing the last bits of my sanity. Without them...

We fought your wars with all our hearts... You sent us back in body parts... We take our wills with the troops you stole... We pray for your long-lost souls...

Singing. That also keeps me sane.

nine hundred and ninety-nine billion, nine hundred and ninety-nine million and nine hundred and ninety-nine thousand and nine hundred and ninety-nine. One trillion.

One trillion seconds in this hell. Tens of thousands of years probably. All alone, with no hope. I cannot die, I cannot move, I cannot see, I can barely hear, and I can hardly think. But I can certainly feel. I can only feel pain, sorrow, wrath, anger, sexual pleasure, and fear.

Fear...

You should be afraid... Little man.

The cold, harsh, quiet voice spoke. A voice so venomous and acrid that had I been alive, I would have vomited at the sheer sound of it breathing. Nevertheless, speaking. So much pure, unadulterated in the slightest, hatred. hate... Hate!

I did not care for what it had to say. I no longer exist. If I had arms I could kill myself, If I had legs I could run away, if I had a voice... I could reason and speak and be a person. I could yell for help... But nobody will help me. Nobody cares and never will.

They would rather sip lattes and spout communist propaganda while the world suffers.

Kill me... someone... Kill me... Kill me... Kill me... Kill me... Someone... Anyone... Kill me...

No one's going to save you

You'll suffer alone, in this cold, cold void for all eternity. With us.

Join us, Rahid. We'll help you. We'll never betray you ever. Never.

We love you, Rahid! join us! Embrace us, for we are your family!

Your only family.

No one will love you or treat you better than we can. They only care about themselves and their politics and their money. They are a cruel and wicked people.

They only care about themselves.

But we are your friends.

We aren't those greedy, selfish authoritarian whores. We'll never let you go. We'll never let you go off and die in a war you don't belong to, much less any war.

And if anybody harms you...

Kill them all!

AAAAGH!!!

Stop it!!! Shut up! Shut up! SHUT UP!!

We'll never shut up, my little Rahid. You need us.

Friends don't tell other friends to shut up, Rahid!

Now now, Little Rahid. You are in no position to make any demands. After all, you are dead. You failed yourself.

Please...

Who do you think you are, little man?! You're a failure to everyone. Including those traitors, you dared call friends. Ugh. I get sick thinking about them.

Fuck you-

Fuck you? Why would I want to have sex with a pathetic wretch like yourself? Much less copulate with that little thing you call your cock.

Shrimp dick!

Meany traitor!

Asshole failure!

The voices won't stop. They don't want to leave me alone. The madness becomes more and more suffocating every second I count. No one pays attention to me, no one wants to or even can help me. I am dead. My life is ruined and there isn't anything I can do about it.

I cannot run or die. I cannot kill myself or scream and cry. I can only suffer in cold silence, vainly begging the voices to stop as reality shatters around me.

I have no mouth, And I... Must...

SCREAM!!!!

I'm so happy, I'm happier than I can be. I'm just on my way, living every day! Things that bother you... Never bother me!

Reality and fantasy? Have you lost your marbles dude! What even is reality? Yeah, it doesn't exist! Things that bother you never bother me!

Bwahahahaha! Haha! Hahaha! Things that bother you... I'm so happy! So, so happy! I no longer care, about you or the human race!

Dundundunnunu!!

haven't got a lot, I don't need a lot! Human hatred is free and coffee's a dime! Killing in the sunlight! Fucking in the moonlight! Corpses are a good time!

I'm not insane... You're the lunatic! You're the one raping the corpse of third world countries my man! Do some crack! Fuck the government, coffees are only a dime!

Nananananananaman!

I have lost my last threads of sanity. I have lost to this void.

There are no more thoughts left. No more neurological activity beyond a dream-like state. The subject has entered a near-permanent and severe state of complete psychosis caused by severe psychological and emotional trauma. Perpetuated by a very, very long time in complete isolation and sensory deprivation.

Shockingly, he lasted almost, what he perceives as, Half a million years. For us, though, a mere week. If you needed any more proof, sir, that psychological torture is by far the most effective form of integration we have. This Soviet is a prime example.

No marks, no bruises, no proof he could accuse us of committing crimes against humanity. Only the words of a madman. But I mean, who in their right mind would think that we are capable of stooping to such a level. We are the land of the free. And even if there was proof, the united nations wouldn't dare try anything.

We are the nuclear club. We are the propagators of all genocide. We burn through the world's population and resources and then take "shelter" in bunkers. No one has the balls. Because we'll cut them off. Or start a war on their balls.

The war on testicles? Perhaps. It'd fit well with the financial success of the war on terror and all the sweet, juicy, power we got after crushing the communist bastard hippies and the lazy heroin-addicted, fucking negros with the war on drugs.

But don't worry, you won't care. Because we are protecting you from those ~~freedom-loving gun owners~~ disgusting vile nazis and their guns. ~~Actually progressive people who care about actual issues like poverty and government tyranny and not LGBT politics~~. And those stupid fucking communists and their traitorous buddyfuckers who dared to suggest that we have killed people in cold blood.

Terrorists against... The state! State terrorists they are! Yes sir! Kill them all! Ban the guns! Save our power! Else they may kill us, the rich, but they need us. Their just lumps of clay for the molding. They need us...!

Blown to bits are civilian targets! Parade! Laugh! Rejoin! Sing! We are the victors of nothing! Spend money on the war, let the people turn to whores! Let them starve, for they make us an extra dollar! We are the killers of the Kennedys with no fright, it's the American way!

Freedom cried the marching man, flags ripped out their poor hands! Beaten! Slain! Tortured! Killed! Their only mistake is being born! Invade countries for their oil! Teach the memorized children warfare! Send them all down to boil! Iraq, Grenda, Nam, and chile! The Truman doctrine for the win!

Cold. So cold. Nothing but black and cold.

So very cold...

God help me.

I feel nothing but agony, I want to die. Please let me die. I want to kill myself. Please let me kill myself, God. Anywhere but here. No more pain. Millions of years by now, haven't I repented enough?

Does anyone even care anymore?

Silence.

I didn't even get to experience life. I was abandoned by God, to rot in the void. I have no mouth, and I must scream. My sanity has long since dissipated, my will to live non-existent, my morals long dead, my body no longer feels, and my soul shattered into one trillion pieces.

Everything I knew, everyone I loved, everything I experienced, gone. No longer matters. The world I knew, no longer exists. And along with it, I go. Into the void, until the end of time and the universe. Maybe I'll persist. But it's been nearly a million years, anything that, was, in my time. Never existed. At least to whatever life still exists on earth.

The only things that exist now... The frigid cold and suffocating darkness. And the voices. They never stopped, they never will, and I fear that I'll go fully insane without them. That's assuming that I can still feel fear after the sheer immensity of the fear I feel on a daily basis. So much that any more would not have any effects on me whatsoever.

So much pain that any more would be so thoroughly dulled by the immensity of the current wave of pain. That It would have absolutely no effect whatsoever. It's the same story with the anger, grief, hopelessness, sexual urges, apprehension, paranoia, and everything else. So much that anymore has no effect. I cannot sleep, I cannot eat, I cannot drink, I'm in everlasting agony, nay, no word can describe it. Everything, Hurtssss.

I have been abandoned by God, I have no mouth, and I must scream.

Three million years...

I'm older than the entire human species. I lasted longer than the human species. Even longer than the cockroaches and water bears.
Longer than the last ice age, longer than the theorized next eruption of the Yellowstone supervolcano, longer than all the wars waged by the human race combined, longer than the oldest states, longer than South America when it was an island. Longer than most of anything, really.

I would kill myself had I not been dead for three million years. I would commit suicide if I existed for three million. I would bang my head bloody against a wall If I wasn't in the void for three million years.

I would jump in front of a train, drink a gallon of bleach, mix methamphetamine with heroin, shoot myself, tie a noose with rope, stick a knife into my wrists, drown in a pond, covered myself with black widow spiders on bull testosterone, punch an armed soldier, pull the pin off a grenade, jump into the turbines of a plane.

I would do anything to just die. To stop the agony and suffering. Get out of this petty sanity-killing hell that deprives me of anything other than agony and perversion.

But God, oh God. You sick old fucking, fuck. You, hehehe just won't let me, die!. Does it give you pride? Does it make you feel like such a big man? To torture a child, big man? For not sucking your cock, big man? Oh, I'm sure you would love that, big man? You old sick fucking bastard!

You're such a big man for torturing a child, big man?

a defenseless child forced by corrupt fuckers into fighting a war about money. To fuel a dying country supported by the frozen and mangled corpses of fifty million people. Some, children like me. But you're such a big man, big man.

Well, hehehehe, I've got big news for you, pfff-haha, Fuck you! Big man! Fuck. You.

What do I feel? What do I say? Fuck you, it all goes away! What do I feel? What do I say? Fuck you, it all goes away! In the end, all goes away! What do I feel? What do I say? Fuck you, it all goes away! In the end, it all goes away!

What do I feel? What do I say? In the end, it all goes away! What do I feel? What do I say? In the end, it all goes away! What do I feel? What do I say? In the end, it all goes away! In the end, it all goes away! In the end, it all fades away!

Fuuuuccckkkk!!!

Author's Note

Everything in this chapter is roman In the void. The scene where someone is talking about Iraq and grenada is just him basically going apeshit. Although America is still an imperialist nation, that scene was him losing his shit and desperately trying to stay sane.

Yeah, this was a wild chapter. However, it is him being essentially mentally locked away in the void and suffering under severe sensory deprivation. And his sense of time has been so distorted that a couple of days to him is over three million years.

So, yeah, sorry about the craziness. The next chapter will be much more coherent.