Two Minutes and Thirty Two Seconds

by Monochrome-1

Rating: teen
Tags: Griffons, Slice of Life, Death, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Equestria at War, Dark
Length: 2109

In war, not everyone is a hero or even lives past the first hour.

In war, not everyone is a hero or even lives past the first hour. Not everyone gets to have a panicked charge, a moment of pure terror as a machine gun rains down on you, the wonder of conquering a capital building or liberating someone's homes, or even a chance to shoot your gun. Sometimes you go through conscription, training, uniform and detail before your boots hit the ground and a moment later your dead. Sixteen to forty years of your life gone in a flash.
This is that story.

Credit to Ping for helping me with this.
Featured on 8/1/2024! Thank you everyone for it! It was surprising to say the least to see it featured when I woke up.
Still featured on 8/2/2024! Woah! Honestly I'm surprised my writing has managed to make it this far, thank you!
And featured on 8/3/2024! Yoh!!! Honestly I didn't expect it to survive on the featured board this far, thank you, thank you! :D

Published 2024-07-31 20:10:00 UTC
Last updated 2024-07-31 20:10:00 UTC

One Hundred and Fifty Two Seconds

Private First Class White Crest blearily rubbed his eyes as the rumble of a truck sent him awake. It was currently eight o'clock in the morning and the orders for him and his division had gone through by their senior officers, they were set to help recapture the outskirts of Romau to allow for the invasion into it to proceed for the glory of the empire as the free city had dared to refuse the invitation of annexation. Knowledge of which White Crest knew little of or cared for.

Why? Because he was eighteen, freshly conscripted into the empire's army, someone who didn't pay much attention to anything, and while trained at boot camp just like any other soldier he had never used his rifle before in combat; he was green and ignorant as a soldier could be. So he dutifully sat inside the truck that carried him and his division to their tasks while he rummaged through his pockets for a moment as he checked his uniform for something that he had a craving for. Something that he spent his first paycheck that he got outside of his home on, peppermint gum,

Eventually, with a note of triumph to himself he found it and with a flick of his claw, White Crest sliced the small packet of gum open, pulled out a strip, and stuffed it into his mouth. The motion of which attracted the attention of his senior officer who was seated next to him as she stopped in her search through a map that she had spread out on her lap.

“You got any more of that greenhorn?” she asked him, gesturing with a clawed talon towards the other soldiers seated around them on the truck. Most of whom were sadly gum-less and just as bored as him. “If you do, pass me some, and I won’t tell the others.”

Not seeing anything getting in the way of doing it nor having any qualms in the matter, White Crest obeyed; passing her a stick of gum which she received with a wordless thanks. Looking at her for a moment to get a better look he noticed the map that she had on her map along with the watch that was placed on it. Curiosity did the rest from there and within moments he asked her what she was doing.

“Oh this?” she said looking at the black and white map. “It’s just a quick look at the area we’re supposed to take soon from a spy plane.”

“A spy plane?” White Crest asked her with a tilt of his head. “What’s that?”

“From what I know, it’s more or less just a plane that runs around taking photos, dodging other aircraft, and maybe dropping off a spy or two,” she answered him with a shrug. “The only reason I know about that is because I read up on them when I was in college.”

“Huh,” White Crest said, a bit surprised by the information. He'd never seen a plane before up close much less one that was a spy. “They make planes for that now?”

“Oh yeah,” the officer answered him with a nod. “They make planes for all kinds of stuff nowadays. Bombing, strafing, escorting, parachuting, and If I remember correctly down in Vedina dive bombing their enemies head first.”

“Head first?” White Crest uttered a bit perplexed. “Why would they do that?”

“I’unno,” she answered him with a just as confused look. “Probably to make sure their honor is fulfilled or something, I don’t know much about chivalry these days. I don’t think anyone does. The knights we have now aren’t even royalty anymore, they're just people that are trained for that position.”

“They aren’t?” White Crest replied with surprise. “I thought they were all nobles?”

“Nope,” the officer said with a shake of her head. “Thanks to a bit of doctrine change a year back, as long as you can make the physical and mental cuts then you're in.” Adjusting the outfit that she had for a moment, she tapped the insignia that she had on her sleeve before contouring with, “heck, the same's for officers now. I'm just a college student with a degree in Griffish and I've never been anywhere near nobility except that one teacher I had back in college in my entire life. The world is a lot more different nowadays. The days of nobles being knights, kings leading armies, and fancy swordplay are long gone. It’s a new world now private.”

“I guess,” White Crest replied as his face scrunched up in confusion from the revelation of the knowledge that he was given. Living in the rural areas of the empire that were left to squalor he’d never seen much in the way of the modern world apart from the truck that he was in, the rifle that he carried, and the uniform that he wore. For him, the wonders of the modern age could be compared to magic, real magic. And while it was certainly an uncommon view to have in the modern day, it wasn't one that was exceptionally rare. More than a few griffons in the empire never left their home village or town after all and poverty situation within it did little to help.

So turning his attention to the map, White Crest looked at the photograph with a bit of wonder. Even with how scuffed, worn out, and blemished it looked, it still gave its viewer an accurate depiction of Romau. With its brick inlay streets, its decorated houses, its neat roads, and most curiously of all what was in the center of it, a large building that he didn’t quite recognize at first. Was it a church? It didn’t seem like it. The churches he knew were either small and neat or large and old. This one seemed to lean towards the latter, but rather than having an overgrown cemetery, a crumbling wall, and a walled-off section this one sported what he guessed to be an immaculate lawn littered with statues. With the very top of it seemingly decorated by what he supposed to be murals.

Curious, he asked the officer while pointing towards the picture and was met with an incredulous look in reply.

“This?” she asked him with a bit of disbelief to someone who didn’t know what they had just asked. “That's the head church itself of the empire of the Archons. You know, the official state religion of the empire?” Looking over she noticed the religious necklace of the god Eyr that he had on tied to his identity tags and motioned to it and said, “the one whose necklaces you're wearing across your neck right now?”

“Mhmh?” White Crest hummed out as he took out his necklace and looked at it before giving a chuckle. “Oh! Yeah, yeah I guess it is.”

“You don’t worship the gods?” she asked him as she noticed the ambivalent tone that he had towards it.

“A little bit like everyone I guess, but nothing big though,” White Crest answered her as he fiddled with his necklace for a bit. “My mom worships Eyr a lot and she took me to church as well, but I was never particularly faithful. I know the words, the signs, and the prayers, but nothing more than that. She gave me the necklace as a good luck charm when I left home.”

Looking towards the map again, he gestured towards it and asked her what was on his mind, "what is the place like?”

“Cramped,” she tersely answered him. “I visited it once with my dad during one of his vacations and let me tell you that there's no space to do anything. The only thing you can do there is just to say your prayers, shake your talons with an old priest, maybe read a few old books that are older than the empire itself, and that’s about it. Nothing else to do really.”

“So why are we here?” White Crest asked the officer, confused and letting his ignorance of his situation show. “Is it important or something?”

“Eh, apart from the church, not really?” the officer answered him. “It’s just a city at the end of the day, but it’s one with people that have refused the orders of the emperor so the army has been sent to deal with them.” Looking out from the truck’s canvas side, she spied something and made a note to herself before turning back towards White Crest.

“If we’re lucky and the air coverage holds, then we should be walking through the streets and into the church just fine in a few weeks,” she said with a shrug as she began to fold up the paper and held the strange clock in her talons. “High command’s got every part of this planned out to the very second.”

“The very second?” White Crest echoed back dubiously.

“Yep,” she said with satisfaction as she shook the clock for a second. “They’ve got the opening phase of the invasion wired down to seconds, minutes, and hours. Heck, when we leave the truck to start the fight I’ll have to start this timer to see how far the opening phase goes through.”

“I see,” White Crest hummed as he looked at the timer for a second. “Did they really do that?”

“Mhmh,” she hummed in affirmation as the truck slowly came to a stop and the soldiers around them got their gear prepared. “Planned it out from the moment our boots touch the ground, to when we sleep, when the next wave comes in, and the tanks come after.” Walking out with the others, she extended him an open talon. “C'mon, it’ll be a walk in the park and I can show you the one decent place I know around here, I promise."

And hesitantly, White Crest did. Looking around as he made his way out of the truck as a few other soldiers stayed in, he spied high above the ruins of the outskirts of Romau, the high airplanes in the sky, and what he could only guess to be the thundering cannons from both friendly and enemy lines pounding the skies and the ground around them. Looking around, he noticed the officer tap a button that was on the clock before turning towards him.

“We’ll start from there everyone,” she said pointing at a few and then White Crest before drawing her pistol and jogging her way toward it. “Follow me and we’ll get our part done in no time.” White Crest followed.

However, before he could even make his way across the street to the building itself, there was the sound of a gunshot, the sudden feeling of a wave of nausea coupled with pain that rode through him, and he found himself stumbling towards the ground. He tried to right himself, to stand up, and to not fall, but everything felt off. Like he was a machine and the power cord connected was cut.

Falling head first White Crest hit the ground as his vision darkened and his senses began to fail. All the while jets of blood gushed out from holes on the right side of his skull and his lower left jaw, the magnum opus of his killer. With a smile from their watch tower position miles away, they reloaded the rifle that they had as they watched as the squad around their slain target ran to cover for safety. Another shot, another kill.

As for White Crest themselves, his head flooded with static as he tried to move around while on the ground but failed to do anything other than twitch his talons and wings fruitlessly while thoughts of pure confusion ran through his head. Was he dying? He didn’t know, but he could feel something inside of him slowly turn off. Visions ran through his head along with sights and sounds, but they made no real sense to him. It was all just meaningless and cacophonous noise to him now.

Someone shook his shoulder, or at least he felt himself shift as his vision slowly turned black. It was the officer who he spoke to moments before, who now wore an expression of pure sorrow and shock on her face. What was she doing, what was going on, and why did he suddenly feel so cold and numb?

Looking around for something to focus on as his vision continued to blacken and degrade he saw the clock that she held in her claws before oblivion took him. The time on it was two minutes and thirty-two seconds.