He took a deep breath, taking extra time to close his eyes and exhale slowly. The world around him stopped turning for that brief second before everything caught back up to him, and he opened his eyes once more. He was a soldier again, and that’s all he ever would be. A soldier.
He glanced at the card held in his hooves, despite having memorized it already, wanting to occupy his mind. He silently mouthed the text written upon it:
Sergeant Text Script Elicolt
108th Marine Regiment, 3rd Battalion
Report to Lieutenant Whooves upon arrival
The jeep slowed to a halt, the driver nodding at his preoccupied passenger. Elicolt opened the door; the sun bore down upon him with a blinding, sudden fury. He raised a hoof in an attempt to shield his eyes from the glare. Around him, troop carriers sat idling in precisely organized columns. The whir of all of the engines droned out all noise as he was approached by a familiar face.
“Well, if it isn't Sergeant Elicolt,” Lieutenant Whooves yelled over the engines, “another term of service, eh?”
“Yeah. Duty calls, I guess.” He smiled at his superior officer. Other soldiers began to pile into the trucks, only adding to the flurry of noise.
“Alright, well, I managed to get you back into your old squad...” The lieutenant paused for a moment. “What’s left of it, anyway.” He pointed a hoof to one of the trucks with a few ponies loading onto it.
Text had more questions, but the thrumming engines drowned out all other noise, rendering the attempt futile. Soldiers conversed amongst themselves, filing into their appropriate carriers as Text wove through them, searching for his own designated transport.
“Well, shit, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!” A familiar voice caught his attention. It was an old friend he'd been looking forward to seeing again. “Welcome back, sarge!” A hoof was extended from the bed of the truck; Text took it, glad for the opportunity to catch up on lost time.
“Hey, Baritone! I hear you’re a corporal now?” He chuckled, holding the offered hoof and hoisting himself across from his friend.
“Yeah, and my term is almost done, too. ‘Bout time I get out of this hellhole.” He gestured to nothing in particular. Text looked around the truck, but didn't recognize anypony else. He shot the corporal a quizzical expression.
"Oh, yeah... Last week we got jumped. Copper got it real bad, and Autumn... didn't make it." He said, his last few words seeming to linger in the air. Everything drew silent as the truck started forward violently, causing it’s contents to jolt back slightly.
Text broke the awkward silence, “We heading back to camp, then?”
“Nope. Our squad was ‘picked’ for a quick patrol. Don’t worry ‘bout it, though. Just some ghost town in the middle of buckin’ nowhere. Ponyville, I think it’s called. Poor little town got torn to shreds from the bombing, so it should be clear.” Baritone grabbed his rifle off of his back and rested it against his leg, leaning up against his seat in the transport. Text just nodded.
Text got a closer look at the stallion sitting across from him. He was geared up just as they all were, bullet-resistant padding on the chest and legs, with his matching helmet of a brown and gray camouflage. On the middle of his chest was a shining badge, with flowing colors and a large REA scrawled across the middle. He remembered how excited he was when he got that badge when he first enlisted two years ago. He didn’t wait for the army to draft him, oh no. He wanted to fight for his country, for his freedom. But he wasn’t a soldier then. He was a soldier now, and that’s all he ever would be.
Corporal Baritone stood up onto his hind legs, stretching his body out and taking off his helmet to get more comfortable. Text remembered how excited he was when he first got his surgery. They told him he’d be able to walk on just two legs, and he’d be able to fire a weapon. He’d be bipedal. He’d be a soldier. He took another deep breath.
“I wanted to be a writer, you know.” Text whispered, staring at the wooden planks which made up the truck’s bed.
Baritone lifted his head, taken aback by his friend’s statement. “Oh, yeah?” he asked, pointing at the treble clef on his flank. “Musician.”
Text looked down at his own cutie mark to see the same quill that had always rested there, reminding him what he was meant to do. What he was supposed to do. War was a funny thing.
The truck grinded to a halt, causing it’s contents to shift again. The driver pounded on the wall behind him, signalling them to unload. Text jumped out first, checking his gear and addressing his soldiers.
“Alright guys, just a quick patrol and we’re out of here. No bucking around, and stick to your ranks. Delta squad, we’ll be sweeping the town square. Sergeant Pestle, take Echo squad and patrol the outside. ” Text made a circle on the invisible map in front of him with his hoof. “Let’s get this over with. Move out!”
Soldiers piled out of the truck, moving in the directions their respective orders indicated. To Text’s surprise, only two other ponies joined him and his Corporal.
“Yeah, they just got shipped in yesterday. This is their first time in the field. Private Mace and Private Hammer.” Baritone whispered to him, gesturing to the two young stallions who conversed amongst themselves quietly, “They’re both buddies from the Broncs. You want me to rough ‘em up a bit?”
Text smiled and nodded. “Go for it.”
With that signal, Baritone stood up on his hind legs and approached the two Privates. He pushed them each away from each other aggressively. “Alright, break it up, buck-faces. This is a war. Since you two are new here, go take point.” He pushed Private Mace forward.
“Yeesh, chill out, bro.” Private Hammer mumbled in a heavy Broncs accent, following his friend forward. Baritone and Elicolt just smiled at each other.
The patrol began quietly, with the two newcomers still conversing amongst themselves in front of Text. The town was dead, most buildings reduced to rubble. Those that still stood were merely burnt shells of their former selves. They made their way down a quiet street, heading for the town square. Each of them walked on all four hooves with their rifle slung across their back, ready be used at a moment’s notice.
“It’s all bullshit anyways. None of this shit makes any goddamn sense.” Private Mace spoke up.
“There’s no reason to do any of this ‘patrolling.’ We have the firepower, why not just level this bucking town and get it over with?” His friend nodded to signify his agreement.
“Hey! Eyes peeled! Both of you!” Text called out, only to be ignored.
“Calm down, dude. Ain’t nothing around this shit that I should be worried about. Nothin’ alive, anyway.” His rant continued. “Even if there was, we’re just walking out in the middle of the bucking open like this. What use is that?” Private Hammer nodded at his friend, cracking a smile.
This only egged his friend to continue, louder. “Seriously! We’re just sitting ducks out here!” He yelled out, standing on his hind legs to add emphasis. “For buck’s sake, why don’t we just yell ‘Hey, Rebels! Take your bucking shot!’”
At that moment, a loud crack broke the emptiness of the city, immediately followed by a sickening thwack. The pony in front of Text fell immediately, spattering blood all over Text. Droplets flew into his unprotected eyes, burning them with a fierce sting. His instincts as a soldier kicked in as he dove for the nearest cover: the remains of a building that was reduced to rubble. He immediately checked to make sure he was unharmed and wiped a hoof across his face, cleaning off the blood of his fallen comrade. He turned around to see, as expected, Corporal Baritone hunkered down behind him.
“Sniper! You got eyes?”
“No, I don’t see him. Don’t risk it. Go find Echo Squad and get them the hell outta here.” He waved a hoof at his Corporal, who nodded and ran off.
He turned his attention back to the street, at the dead pony sprawled across the ground. A pool of blood was forming under what was left of his head. Private Hammer was knelt down next to the dead pony, shell-shocked from the event. He prodded at the carcass before him. “You...you’re okay...It’s just a flesh wound...It’s okay....we’re all going to be okay.” The stallion began to sob into an emotional breakdown.
“Private! Get the fuck over here!” Text waved his hoof violently in a state of urgency that went completely ignored. Hammer began to shake violently between sobs before collapsing to the ground.
“Damn it.” Text swore quietly to himself, standing onto his hind legs and running over to the immobile soldier shaking on the ground. He picked him up, slinging him across his back.
“No...n-no...we’re all just fine. We’ll be okay.” The pony whispered, still shaking across his back. Text began to run for cover, only to be stopped short. A loud crack broke out again, immediately followed by an intense, sharp stinging in his right leg. The pain threw him off balance, and he collapsed to the ground. The squadmate he was carrying had been catapulted forward, padded gear protecting the flailing soldier as he tumbled on the ground.
The pony in front of Text slowly rose, still shaking. He turned around and looked at his Sargent, his face twisted in sheer terror. Text outstretched a hoof, pain overwhelming his whole body. Hammer shook his head, tears streaming down his face. The last thing Text saw before everything faded away was the Private running off in the distance.
Magnum Hawkeye, stone cold killer.
At first, he took pride in his title. He was the best of the best at what he did; an elite assassin. Lately, however, the honor and pride of it had worn off, and he began to think of himself as a heartless murderer. It was his job, though, and it was what he was meant to do.
He looked down at his cutie mark; the same crosshairs on his flank that he expected to see resting there. He took a deep breath.
He took a seat at his desk, brushing his mane out of his eyes and turning on the radio. The same Celestia-driven propaganda filled his ears; what he’d grown to expect after 3 years. He loosely listened to the radio as he got up to stretch. One line lingered in his mind:
The Rebels are beginning to fall back, as the... the radio announcer’s voice droned on, but it made Magnum think for a moment. Of course they would be labeled as rebels. The Royal Equestrian Army wouldn't dare allow them be acknowledged with a proper title. They didn’t see the New Lunar Republic as a threat, so they just label them as terrorists; a mere nuisance on the back of the almighty REA. And if they were labeled as terrorists, they were terrorists, as far as the public was concerned. The media was so eager to paint the NLR in a bad light, that the public could never be shown the truth. They were the bad guys, and the REA were the good guys.
Magnum took another deep breath, turning around to look out the window. He saw the usual decimated city that had been laid to waste long ago, enveloped whole by the war, with not even the most insignificant building having been spared. He was in one of the few stable buildings left, a 2-story building that had somehow missed the center of the bombing. It was no home, though, just another hideout. Just another temporary structure until his cover is blown again or the building gets destroyed.
Suddenly, a rapid movement caught his trained eye. Two stallions rounded the corner down the street, shortly followed by two more. They were all dressed in matching brown and gray camouflage, with a rifle slung across each of their backs. They were completely oblivious to the pony standing a few blocks down, looking out a window. Magnum smiled at his stroke of luck.
He quickly stood up and rushed to his closet, opening it to find it empty besides a large sniper-rifle leaning against the side. He seized it immediately, untucking the bi-pod located on the bottom of the weapon and rushing to the window. Setting the bi-pod on the windowsill, Magnum removed the scope cover and cocked the bolt-action rifle in one fluent, professional motion. He took aim down the sights, centering himself at the front pony, who was flailing his front hooves around as he seemed to rant about something to the soldier next to him. The pony suddenly stood up onto his hind legs, giving Magnum a better line of sight. He couldn’t stop a smile from creeping onto his face as he took aim at the obnoxious pony’s head. Lights out, he thought, pulling the trigger.
The same crack rang out from his rifle he’d gotten used to hearing as he pulled out to cock the bolt action, not bothering to check if he hit his target. He didn’t need to. He was a professional.
He looked down his sight again to see what was left of his original target, sprawled across the middle of the street. To his surprise, however, the soldier he had been talking to was kneeling next the the body, prodding at it and saying things Magnum couldn’t make out. He took aim at the stallion’s head, but decided against it. He knew from experience a better opportunity would arise.
He was right. Moments later, another soldier made a run for his comrade on the street, picking him up and putting him on his back. Magnum took aim, but had little time to take the shot before the soldier reached cover again. He fired and watched as his target collapsed to the ground. The pony he had been carrying scrambled off into the distance. Magnum grinned as he folded up the bi-pod on his rifle and replaced the cap on the scope, gently placing it in the closet. He grabbed his sidearm off of his desk as he trotted down the stairs.
Magnum approached the mess on the street, inspecting the dead stallion in the middle. There was a rather extensive amount of blood pooling around the head, making Magnum frown in disgust. He preferred the clean, silent kill, but this would have to do. He made his way towards the other pony, who was unconscious, but breathing. A small amount of blood was leaking onto the street from his wound on his right-hind leg. Magnum noticed the patch on the soldier’s right foreleg, signifying his rank as Sargent. He raised his pistol, aiming at the Sargent's head, offering to end his misery. Something stopped him, however. Something nagging in the back of his head, telling him what he was doing was wrong. He’d heard the voice before, and it had only recently appeared with his doubt for his talent. Never before had it stopped him from doing something, though. The pony below him began to stir, only causing Magnum’s mind to split more. One side screamed at him to end the soldiers life, like he was meant to do. Like he was born to do. The other side told him to stop, told him that the innocent pony before him did nothing wrong and didn’t deserve death.
The pony before him began to regain consciousness, slowly turning his head to make eye contact with Magnum. He could feel the soldier’s breath become rapid, eyes showing pure fear of death.
Text opened his eyes, the pain nearly unbearable in his leg. He immediately noticed a shadow draped before him. He slowly turned around, making eye contact with a mysterious pony, who was holding a gun pointed right at his head. Text’s heart pumped rapidly, knowing death was imminent. He waited for a moment that seemed to creep into its own self-contained infinity, anticipating the final 'bang' that would prelude his eternal rest. To his surprise, the pony just sighed, slowly lowering his weapon. Text's vision blurred as he began the descent into unconsciousness. The last thing he felt before finally losing that internal struggle was somepony picking him up and carrying him off.
“Damn, Hawk, I never thought of you as a savior.” The pony before Magnum snickered, wrapping up the leg of the unconscious soldier. “That should be all good. Tell me again why you didn’t just put a bullet through his skull?”
Magnum shot the stallion a look that could have turned a cockatrice to stone. “Don’t ask questions, Stitch. Just patch him up and get the hell outta here.”
“Alright, alright. He’ll be back up in a few hours or so.” The amused medic turned around to leave, a large red cross etched across his flank. “I think you’re going soft on me, though, Hawk. What happened to the stone cold killer?”
“Buck off, Stitch. Get out of my sight.” Magnum growled, turning away. The medic pony sneered as he packed up his tools and left Magnum alone with the unconscious soldier.
Magnum sighed, turning to a broken mirror hanging on one of the walls. Through the shattered glass, a silver pony stared back at him from all directions. His figure was slender, an unkempt obsidian mane cascading down a lean neck, shrouding his face in its opacity. Strands of the ebony mane parted with a swipe of his hoof, revealing a pair of familiar crimson irises which had not lost their vibrance, even in this war-torn land. He turned slightly, catching the reflection of his cutie mark. He glared at the reflected symbol permanently etched onto his flank, the indication of what he was meant to do. He thought back to the moment he received his calling; the happiest moment of his life...
“That was just luck!” His friend shouted, the smallest hint of awe in the colt's denial. The others sat on their haunches, dumbfounded. “There’s no way you could do it again!” Magnum grinned, revelling in the chance to disprove his neighsayer. He took aim at the designated target, factoring in wind and trajectory with a keen intuition that no amount of practice could ever provide. He held his breath and fired. The rock propelled out of the slingshot upon release, cutting an invisible swath through the crisp Autumn air. A distant glass bottle shattered as the projectile hit it dead-center, bouncing harmlessly off a tree some meters further. His friends cheered this time, causing a sly grin to slide onto Magnum’s face.
“Magnum, look!” One of his friends shouted, causing the elated colt to turn around. He noticed his friend was pointing directly at his flank. Looking down, to his surprise, the blank silvery flank he had expected to see was replaced by crosshairs. He had gotten his cutie mark. He knew his special talent.
He knew, deep down, that he wasn’t meant to be a killer. It just made life a little easier telling himself that this was his calling. He didn’t hate killing, not by a long shot. He enjoyed what he did. He was an elite assassin at the top of his game.
Magnum turned, eyeing the unconscious soldier sprawled out on the nearby bed. So why is he still alive? his ever persistent internal monologue questioned, causing him to second-guess his decision. What am I going to do when he wakes up?
Text's eyes fluttered open carefully; the haze of his unconscious state clearing away as he registered his surroundings. Shapes began to form into discernible objects; textures rapidly came into focus with startling clarity. What little areas of his aching body that still bore feeling notified his aware mind that he was laying on a soft bed. A quick glance to his right-hind leg told him that somepony had bandaged it efficiently. His mind reeled as he recalled his last memory of what had transpired with frustrating futility. An impenetrable fog of temporary amnesia blanketed his pulsating brain; his only success was increasing the rhythmatic throb of his aching head.
Text’s eyes shifted around the room, looking for signs of life. Across the room, he spotted a stallion, facing the opposite way, staring idly out of the window. His breath shallowed as he noticed the pony was wearing a thin, black and blue jacket, representing the New Lunar Republic. Text stiffly turned his head to the right, spotting his rifle resting on a nearby table. He bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep quiet as he reached for the weapon, careful to keep his wounded leg in place so as to not flare the dull throb into a burning agony. Unfortunately, he had misjudged the gap between bed and table. With an instinctive shift, his right leg was suddenly filled with molten lead, causing him to be thrown off balance and onto the floor with a loud crash. The agonized soldier looked up from the ground to see, much to his surprise, that the pony hadn't even moved. Text grabbed his rifle and stood onto his hind legs, stumbling slightly from his wounded leg. He limped forward toward the mystery pony as quietly as he could, slowly raising his weapon. He stopped directly behind the unmoving pony, aiming the rifle.
“If you ever want to see the light of day again, I highly suggest you tell me who the hell you are and where I am.” Text whispered in the most menacing tone he could muster. The pony before him casually turned his head to the side before a swift motion caused Text to fall to the floor, knocking the rifle out of his hooves. He reached for the weapon as fast as he could, pointing it straight up to where his attacker was, only to see a sidearm pointed directly at him yet again.
“First off, put down the gun. You’re not impressing anyone.” The mysterious stallion before him commented. A wave of the sniper’s firearm commanded Text to lower his weapon. The disadvantaged soldier obliged. “Secondly, my name’s Magnum. Now stand up, you look pathetic.”
Text slowly rose, never breaking eye contact with Magnum. The pistol followed its target as the woozy soldier stood eye level with the wielder. Text opened his mouth to ask more questions, only to be stopped by the sight of something moving out the window. He peered behind Magnum, catching sight of a fellow soldier, whom he recognized as an Echo squad member.
“Elicolt!” The stallion called out, noticing his officer in the window. He began to run headlong towards the building, rifle strung across his back. Text turned his head back to Magnum, whose expression immediately changed from a sly grin to one of seriousness.
“Listen to me. Everything you know as a soldier is a lie.” Magnum said frantically. “I promise you I can explain everything. Give me time, that’s all I ask.”
Text could hear the door cascade open downstairs; a pony started to barrel up the stairs, yelling his name. Text stood silent, never breaking eye contact with Magnum.
“Sergeant Eli- Hey!” The soldier yelled, noticing the Rebel soldier pointing a weapon at his squad leader. “You!” He amplified his authoritative voice. “Lower your weapon! Now!” He reared onto his hind legs, grabbing the weapon off his back.
Magnum slowly lowered his gun, never breaking eye contact with Text. “I trust you to make the right choice, soldier. I spared your life. You have the chance to spare mine. I can enlighten you; I can show you the truth that you’ve been hidden from, or else you can continue living your meaningless life as a soldier and let my death ride on your conscious. Your choice.” he nearly whispered, staying as calm as possible.
“On the ground! Now!” The soldier shouted, aiming his rifle at Magnum. Seconds stretched into a crawling infinity; neither Text nor Magnum ever broke their locked stare.
“Get on the ground or I’ll shoot!” The soldier repeated, a faint click was heard as he turned off the rifle’s safety mechanism.
Text took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. He raised his rifle and pulled the trigger. The soldier on the stairs collapsed to the ground in recoil, falling down the flight of stairs. The air grew silent as the stallion hit the ground floor, dead.
Text lowered his head in shame, still second guessing his choice. His whole body began to grow numb as shame and empathy overwhelmed him, a single tear welling in his eye. He slowly raised his head, noticing the pony in front of him, smiling. He was smiling. Text’s guilt slowly turned into a burning hatred, every fiber of his being building a grudge towards the single pony in front of him. He finally snapped, diving head-first into Magnum. Magnum tried to retaliate, but Text’s sheer force and adrenaline forced him to the ground. Text slammed the barrel of his rifle into Magnum’s forehead, causing a single strand of blood to appear and roll down the side of his head.
“You have ten seconds to tell me why I shouldn’t blow your bucking head off right now.” Text snarled, driving the barrel even harder into Magnum’s head. To Text’s surprise, Magnum simply chuckled, casually reaching into his jacket. Moments later he pulled out something familiar to Text, waving it front of him.
“An REA pin? What did you do, take it off some soldier’s body?” he snarled again, trying to keep his curiosity at bay to his anger.
Magnum smirked, slowly shaking his head. “Corporal Magnum Hawkeye, 43rd Recon Division.” he cooed, as if recalling a vivid memory. Text just stood in disbelief. “I believe I owe you an explanation, then. Now, if you’d be so kind as to get off of me...”
The helicopter carrying Magnum was relatively quiet; only the constant, low thup thup thup of the rotor blades gave any indication that the mechanical beast was still alive. Seated across from the introverted sniper was a rather bulky, muscular stallion; clearly a veteran of war. He was dressed in the usual REA colors; only with a thinner, less padded suit. Magnum couldn’t help but smirk as his counterpart fumbled with a communication earpiece.
"Stupid piece of shit!" the stallion remarked, finally fitting the device in its proper place in his ear canal. "By Celestia, I'll never get used to this." His right eye twitched slightly at the foreign object, already wanting to rip it out and scratch the irritation away.
Magnum broke out a small chuckle. "What's the matter? Won't it fit?" He teased his superior, trying to get a rise out of the older soldier. "Maybe you should clean your ears out more."
"And maybe you should shut the hell up," the other retorted, his tone a mixture of amusement and frustration.
"So, tell me..." The older pony gazed over at Magnum, who cocked an eyebrow in interest to the imminent question. "Is it true you're some sort of prodigy with that rifle of yours?"
"I suppose you could say that." Silence hung in the air between the two soldiers; Magnum broke it with his own curiosity.
"Now you tell me. All about yourself, that is... Sir," he quickly added. Too many times had he forgotten that was he addressing a superior officer and not just a friend.
"Heh," the stallion snorted, recollecting the memories from the chasms of his mind. "About me, eh? Alright, I'll humor you. If only to pass the time until we reach the drop-point."
"I began my military career as Private Third Class 'Gilded Armour' in the Canterlot Guard, though my friends all called me ‘Gil’. Back then, a civil war like this was the farthest thing from anypony's mind, due to the Griffon tribes banding under one Warlord and setting their sights on Equestria. For ten years I was sent all over the place, working my way up through the ranks."
Magnum sat, listening intently. He motioned for the story-teller to continue the tale.
"Well, it was during a routine visit to Canterlot for a resupply and debrief that the Griffons decided raiding small, defenseless villages wasn't enough. It seemed like they sent their entire species to invade Canterlot, there were so many. They outnumbered our Pegasus Air Force three-to-one. Our only advantage was their bulk; Pegasi can out-fly a cumbersome Griffon any day." Armour took a quick breath, letting the memories flood back.
"Unfortunately, it meant shit-all. They still backed us up into the Castle proper. Of course, we hardly had this technology at all; it was all spears and other melee weaponry. We were pushed back into the Royal Throne Room; hell I'm pretty sure my flank touched Celestia, praise her name. The only saving grace that day was when the Princesses decided to join the fight... Princess Luna herself was particularly nasty."
"Eventually they had been routed after sustaining a heavy loss... but I celebrated too early. One last of those bird-lion mutts flew at Celestia herself in a blind fury. She stood frozen, in shock at the audacity that creature had, until I booted her out of the way and took the attack for her full-on. Afterward, she named me one of her own, personal Royal Guard." Armour smirked, putting emphasis on his last three words with obvious pride.
"Spent my time from then on as her personal bodyguard. That is, until the war started. You know how that went; Celestia wanted to make peace with the Griffons, Luna wanted to teach them a lesson."
Magnum nodded. Of course he knew; the royal dispute is what began the civil war.
"Well, enough about me. How about you? How'd you make it to the top?"
Magnum thought a moment. "Well, I joined the cause like any good stallion should about three weeks ago-"
"Woah, hang on a sec," Armour cut Magnum off. "Three weeks!? You managed to make your way onto the Special Forces in only three weeks?" Armour stared, dumbfounded.
"Yeah, I guess so. The pony at basic training said I was a natural; invited some higher ranks to watch me shoot, even. They sent me straight to Special Forces training. Three weeks later, here I am."
"Damn, son," Armour laughed, "that's the craziest thing I've ever heard. You must be one sick bastard with that sniper of yours." Armour motioned to the weapon across Magnum's lap.
Magnum took a look at his weapon as well; it was the same one he had been given at Special Forces training. It was a simple bolt action tricked out with a thermal scope with an adjustable zoom, and a silencer screwed onto the end of the barrel; all specially designed for their mission.
The pegasus piloting the helicopter turned around, getting the two soldiers' attention. "Two minutes 'til deployment. Ready up you two." He called over the whir of the chopper, returning to his controls.
"Alright rookie, you know the drill." Armour nodded at the pegasus, turning back to Magnum."The safehouse is about one klick north of the dropzone. We get in, get our target, and get out. No noise, no fuss. Quick and clean. Remember who we're dealing with here; this is the leader of the New Lunar Republic. There will be resistance."
"30 seconds!" The Pegasus called out from the cockpit.
"Alright rookie, get all your gear ready." Armour instructed as he slid the door open and set a thick, braided rope to the immediate outside of the helicopter. Magnum gripped the rope with his hooves, thankful for the boots that would keep his feet from rubbing raw on the descent. Taking a deep breath, he jumped, riding the line down to the ground.
The landing jarred the sniper's teeth as Armour quickly followed him down the line, landing gracelessly with a grunt.
"Damn ground is harder than I remember."
"What's wrong, old timer?" Magnum smirked, enjoying the teasing. "Can't keep up with us colts anymore?"
Magnum's laughing was cut short, however, as Armour's outstretched hoof told him to quiet down. Suddenly, the sniper noticed what his officer was referring to - a stallion, dressed in the black and purple NLR suit, was patrolling through the woods. The only thing protecting the two soldiers from being spotted was the opacity of a moonless night, to which the REA comrades gave an ironic thanks to Luna.
The stallion in front of them stood onto his hind legs after looking down a bit, procuring a few things from his pocket. Armour motioned for Magnum to stand still as he quietly snuck up behind the unaware NLR pony. Magnum noticed what the stallion was holding as a spark lit up the darkness. The stallion took a deep breath from the cigarette, then slowly exhaled a puff of smoke.
Suddenly, Armour reared onto his hind legs, abandoning all stealth and continuing to approach the unknowing pony. The NLR soldier quickly took notice, swinging around in shock. "Hey! You're not supposed to be here!" he called, dropping his cigarette and reaching for the rifle slung across his back.
Armour stayed calm, still slowly approaching the stallion.
"Hey now," he said, slowly raising his hooves to the air. "We don't want any trouble."
Magnum began to panic, unsure of his superior's methods. He decided to stand still and let the older pony do his work for now.
"Hey! Step back! I'm warning you!" The stallion called out. Armour continued to move closer, a devilish grin on his face. Within a fraction of a second, the aged pony lunged for the NLR soldier, who retaliated with a gunshot. Armour was quick, however, brushing the rifle off his left hoof and causing the bullet to stray. The REA soldier raised his right hoof to the air, and with a loud ‘shhng’, a blade shot out from the tip of his boot. Armour drove his hoof down into the stallion's chest in a rapid, fluid motion, causing the victim to gasp for breath.
"Shhhh..." Armour hushed the suffering pony, pulling the blade from his target's chest. The stallion dropped his weapon and collapsed to the ground, still gasping for his last moments of life. Armour turned back to Magnum, a large smile spread across his face. He raised the blood covered blade to the air, showing his fellow soldier.
"Pretty cool, eh? I made it myself." He boasted, wiping the blood off onto his jacket. With a flick of his hoof, the blade retracted back into his boot, as though it was never there in the first place.
"You couldn't have just slit his throat or something?" Magnum questioned his superior's methods.
"Well what fun is that?" Armour smirked, flipping his night vision goggles over his eyes and turning them on. "Alright, down to business. There should be a ridge overlooking the safehouse about half a klick to the Northeast. If you can give me a good lookout, I can probably sneak in. Tell me when you get eyes-on, then I'll work my magic. Alright, move out." Armour nodded to the sniper, and jogged off to the North.
“Whatever you say, boss.” Magnum let the words hang in the air a trite longer. With the rifle slung across his back, the sniper began making his way on all four hooves to his designated spot, but not before snuffing out the still-lit cigarette.
“Can’t have any wildfires, now, can we?” A mad yet amused chuckle escaped as he silently galloped to his position.
The half-kilometer seemed like a stroll through the park as the silent sniper finally came upon the base of the ridge. Magnum peered up - it was much steeper than he anticipated. No matter. Professional eyes scanned the jutting landscape, searching for the safest way up the sharp hill. To the untrained eye, all looked the same. To Magnum, however, paths looked weak. One slip of the hoof could send him sprawling back down... with significantly more pain.
Finally he spotted the correct path that which would carry him upward and not toss him violently down. Swiftly he crawled up, small bits of rock being jarred loose from the steps of his hooves. Making his way to the face of the cliff, Magnum hoisted himself up and scanned the horizon with trained, professional eyes. Immediately spotting the top of the safehouse along the treeline, the stealthy sniper began to maneuver his way across the cliff. Reaching the edge, he grabbed the rifle slung across his back and began to set up by unfolding the weapon’s bi-pod stand and removing the scope’s lens cap. He lay down onto his stomach, resting his beloved weapon on the very edge of the cliff, allowing him the optimal line of sight onto his target.
“Alright, sir, I have eyes-on,” Magnum confirmed to his officer.
“Good." Armour whispered in to his headset, clearly trying to stay as stealthy as possible. "Now, can you see me? Western tree line.”
Magnum looked down his scope, the world around him changing to a steel grey as his thermal scope illuminated his surroundings. Adjusting himself, he moved the sights over to the tree line, searching for the soldier. Suddenly, a bright white figure appeared in his scope that resembled the shape of a pony.
“Yep, I gotcha. So what’s the plan?” Magnum asked, using the opportunity to adjust his scope for distance and clarification.
“I’m going to work my way in from the West side of the house... I need you to be my eyes here. Anything so much as moves, you let me know.”
Magnum quietly acknowledged his officer, scanning the western face of the mansion. To his surprise, nothing came up in the scope. Shifting his weight, he adjusted the sniper to get a better look at the entire house. The outside was almost entirely unprotected save for two small, glowing figures patrolling across the front lawn, heading west.
“Two heading your way, sir. Be careful.”
“Only two?” A hint of disappointment.
“Yessir.”
Armour’s hiding spot was broken as he crept across the tree line, making his way to the side of the house. Rearing up, the soldier leaned his back up against the corner of the house, awaiting the approaching patrol.
Magnum took aim at the first pony, flicking off his rifle’s safety mechanism. Everything from here was second nature to Magnum - the shallowing of his breath, the pinpoint accuracy with his scope, and the anxious twitch of the trigger, awaiting the faithful moment.
“Ready when you are, sir.” The sniper breathed, never leaving his attention from the point of the pony’s head. As they neared closer to his comrade, Magnum began to make out their conversation through his headset.
“Swift still isn’t responding. You sure he’s okay?” one of them asked, a hint of concern in his voice.
“He’s fine, stop worrying. He just took a step out to have a smoke.” The other assured the first.
“Now,” Magnum’s officer whispered. The two approaching soldier's were mere feet from noticing him.
That was all Magnum needed to hear. His fore-hoof twitched, immediately followed by a muffled thwick from the silencer on the tip of his weapon. His target fell immediately, causing the other pony to rear up in shock and confusion. The soldier reached for his weapon, looking every direction in search of the hidden assassin. Feeding off of the distraction, Armour lunged at the confused pony, jumping onto his back. The NLR grunt flailed around wildly in a panic, but it was no use - Armour wrapped his fore-hooves around the pony’s jaw and yanked with a sharp, twisting force. A loud crack came from the stallion before he collapsed to the ground alongside his friend.
“Good shot, son. Are you sure I’m all clear?”
Magnum scanned the outside of the massive house with caution, wary of any possible glow of white. Nothing came up.
“Yessir. Outside is all clear. You’re on your own once you get inside, though.”
“That’s fine. Thanks for the help, Hawkeye.” The commanding officer said before disappearing into the building and out of Magnum’s scope.
After only a few seconds, Armour spoke up, weariness laced in his voice. “Something’s not right here. If their leader really is here, shouldn’t they have it guarded up the flank?”
Magnum scanned the entire building and its surroundings, looking for any signs of life. Something suddenly didn’t feel right. If their intel was correct, then the leader of the NLR should be here, along with at least two platoons of guards.
“West corridor clear. Still no more signs of life. Keep an eye out for patrols.” His officer huffed through the headset adorning the sniper. Magnum could hear the hushed clopping of each hoofstep Armour took through the deafening silence. “Heading to the main lobby. Hold tight.”
Magnum heard every small detail through the other stallion’s microphone - the slow, calm breathing, the sound of the officer leaning against each wall to retain his stealth; even the quiet clopping of each hoof hitting the ground.
“Main lobby clear... Wait, hang on, there’s something here...” His officer stated, a brief silence filling the air. “Dear Celestia...this...this can’t be...” He mumbled with obvious disbelief. Magnum could hear the slight ruffling of paper.
“Sir? What is it?” Magnum asked, concerned for the other pony.
“Magnum, you need to come see this. Now.” Armour’s tone changed from shock to extreme urgency. Magnum didn’t hesitate, grabbing his rifle off of the edge and folding it. Throwing the weapon across his back, he began the slippery descent down the side of the cliff, in more of a rush than when he first climbed it. Fearing his fellow soldier was in danger, he hit the ground into a full run, dodging tree after tree as it flew past him. His keen, professional eyes wandered slightly in search for any signs of any missed patrols.
Arriving at a clearing leading up to the house, Magnum took a sharp left to enter the western entrance to retrace his officer’s hoofsteps. Rushing through the opened doors, he galloped straight down the narrow corridor and burst into the main lobby.
“Sir, what is it?” Magnum asked breathlessly, looking over to the stallion who was standing over a desk, shuffling through papers.
“I... I don’t believe it... Hawkeye, you need to look at this.” His voice was small, barely audible as he grabbed a few of the papers off the desk and turned to Magnum.
Reaching for one of the papers hastily, Magnum began to scan what was written on it, his jaw slowly dropping in his own disbelief.
“Yeah, I didn’t believe it at first either, but look at all of these.” The commander gestured the piles of paperwork. “It’s all official. Celestia and Luna compromised, and ordered a cease-fire. This should have ended the war, but look at the date.”
Magnum looked at the top of the paper, eyeing the day it was written. His jaw threatened to fall to the floor, the hinge making a pop.
“That was three weeks ago. If this is real, then why the hell are we still in a war? Something isn’t right here.” Armour said, still paging through all of the paperwork. “We need to show this to the Captain.” The officer fiddled with his headset for a moment before calling into it with renewed vigour. “Captain Blaze, this is Lieutenant Armour. We need immediate extraction. Precious cargo, I repeat, precious cargo.”
“Great work, Lieutenant.” Magnum heard the Captain through his headset. “I’ll come personally to pick you up. Extraction will be half a klick east of your position. Over and out.”
“Alright, we need to go. Grab the d-” Armour was cut off by a loud screeching from throughout the house. It took only moments for Magnum to realize an alarm had been set off.
“Come on, keep up!” Armour yelled out his order, making a break for the tree-line. “Everypony in the surrounding mile of this place is going to come after us!”
Almost like clockwork, Magnum heard shouting behind him, followed by gunshots. Bullets whizzed pass the galloping soldier, making contact with trees mere feet from him.
“Shit! Go! Go!” Armour called out, picking up speed and weaving through each passing tree. Magnum followed him hoof-for-hoof, copying his exact serpentine. The yelling from behind them grew louder and closer as more wandering patrols caught on. More and more bullets whizzed around both ponies, hitting every piece of terrain in sight.
“Keep going! We’re almost there!” Armour called out, an opening in the mass of trees appearing over the horizon.
“Gahh!” Magnum inhaled as a sharp, explosive pain ripped through his left leg. The burning was too immense; it threw Magnum forward, his face driving into the dirt below him.
“Magnum!” Armour yelled, stopping and turning around to pick up the other soldier.
“No! You go! The intel is too important!” The wounded, panicking soldier retorted, pulling away from his officer’s grasp. After a few moments of thinking, Armour nodded.
“I’ll come back for you, I promise!” he called out, galloping off towards the opening.
Not wanting to go out without a fight, Magnum pulled out the sidearm resting on his side and flipped around, meeting a soldier off-guard. Magnum shot immediately, clothes-lining the unsuspecting patrolman. The sniper watched as more enemy soldiers moved around him, firing at every movement he saw through the trees. Another soldier approached, completely oblivious to the pony on the ground mere feet in from him while shooting his gun off into the distance. Magnum took aim at the stallion, pulling the trigger.
Click.
Magnum's clip was empty, and the subtle noise caused the startled NLR soldier to take notice of the pony just below him.
This is it, Magnum thought. Time seemed to almost pause as his mind reeled, his life mere seconds from coming to a wicked end. Maybe he'd be a hero; sacrificing himself to help end the war. The pony above Magnum took aim, a hoof movement away from ending the sniper.
A loud whirring noise from above caused both ponies to look up. A cloud of helicopters appeared above, the noise alone could knock a pony off its feet. Suddenly, a few of the mechanical beasts unleashed their raw fury, the minigun ripping the trees to shreds below them. The stallion in front of Magnum winced from the incoming barrage, a mass of wooden splinters flying about. This gave Magnum a mere second to react, but that's all he needed. Pulling the sniper that was slung across his back, he quickly hip-fired the weapon, hitting the shocked stallion in the shoulder. The sheer impact was louder than the shot itself, due to the silencer and the point-blank distance. The NLR soldier spun around a few times in recoil from the force of hit before collapsing to the ground.
Magnum ducked to the ground as bullets rained down, ponies and trees being ripped to shreds around him. One of the trees near him, taking too much damage, collapsed to the ground only a few feet from Magnum.
The aerial onslaught ended as quickly as it began, the helicopters landing in the clearing in the distance. Magnum tried to stand by propping himself up using the fallen tree, but it was no use. The flaring heat in his leg was too immense. All he could do was watch as a single pony exited one of the helicopters, quickly approached by Lieutenant Armour.
"Do you have the cargo?" Magnum heard the stallion he recognized as Captain Blaze through Armour's headset.
"I have it right here, sir." The lieutenant boasted. Even from the distance Magnum could see his lieutenant reach into his satchel and hand the Captain the intel.
Blaze turned around, scanning each piece of paper before flipping onto the next. "Good work, soldier." He muttered. Using his other hoof, he pulled out a custom-built chrome revolver, eyeing the piece.
"Sir, I don't think you realize what this means. We could end the war with this!" Armour practically shouted, unsatisfied with his superior officer's response.
Blaze merely flipped open the cylinder on his revolver, spinning it once to check for ammunition. A sinister smile crept onto his face.
"Exactly."
Without even turning around to confront Armour, Blaze aimed his gun point-blank at him and fired, causing the lieutenant to collapse to the ground immediately. Magnum had to use a hoof to cover his mouth from crying out.
Blaze turned around with a look of disgust, throwing the Intel onto the body, causing papers to fly in every direction. Blaze turned to one of his grunts approaching him. "Burn it. All of it. I don't want there to be anything left when you're done with it, understand?"
The pony before Captain Blaze nodded, grabbing a readied can of gasoline and dousing the Intel and carcass alike. The helicopters began to whir back to life, ready to leave. The grunt, satisfied with his proper dousing, lit a match and tossed it into the pile, causing it all to burst into flames.
Blaze stopped in his tracks before entering the helicopter, suspiciously turning around and scanning the tree-line. Magnum's froze, keeping perfectly still as to not be seen.
"Alright everypony, let's get out of here." Blaze nodded, finally entering his helicopter. Slowly, each one flew off, one at a time.
Magnum sighed in relief, but soon noticed his eyesight began to blur and his senses were sulking due to the bloodloss in his leg. He tried to stand one last time, but his attempt was futile as he collapsed to the ground. The last thing Magnum saw before blacking out was a boot lying across from him, one that must have fallen off of Armour during the chase...
Magnum’s mind reeled back to reality, finished reliving the memory for the pony in front of him. Text just stared in awe, completely taken aback by the other stallion’s story. By this time they had both made their way over to a nearby table, where Text sat across from Hawkeye, listening intently.
“That rat bastard is your army General now. It’s all lies and bullshit!” Magnum yelled out, slamming a hoof onto the table in front of him.
It was true - Text had known Glory Blaze was their General for years now, and he’d even met him personally when he signed up for a second term.
“Stitch, a local medic for the NLR, found me took me in shortly after I blacked out. I’m lucky he didn’t just kill me...”
“Wait a second, how do I know you didn’t just make this all up?” Text asked, shaking his awe and replacing it with skepticism.
“Heh, I had a feeling you’d ask that.” Magnum smirked, raising his right hoof to eye level between them. Text didn’t notice until now that Magnum was only wearing the single boot.
Shhng.
Text glared at the blade before him, still in disbelief over Magnum's story.
"Two years," the sniper mused, "two years I have been hunting that son of a bitch. I'll wait even more if I have to. I'll end him even if it kills me."
Magnum waved the bladed boot in front of Text, making the still-recovering soldier uneasy. "I’ve plotted the moment of his death for all these years.” A manic smile creased the pony’s face. “First and foremost, just for Armour, I’m going to jab that bastard with Gil’s blade. Right in the gut." Magnum swiped the blade through the air, causing Text to flinch.
"Then, when he's on the ground, groveling at my hooves for mercy," Magnum continued, reaching his other hoof into his jacket and pulling out a single bullet. "I’m going to take his precious little gun from him, and shoot him with this. Custom made just for his revolver."
Text looked closer at the round in the other pony's hoof, noticing a small etching in the side of it, reading 'Gil.'
"He's going to pay for what he did." Magnum mumbled, falling from the euphoric high of his rant and retracting the blade back into his boot.
Text merely stared off into the distance, his mind reeling. Everything he had been taught to believe was completely shattered in minutes, and his conscious mind struggled to cope.
Magnum smirked, placing the bullet back into its own pocket inside his jacket. Standing up, the silver sniper stretched his hind legs briefly before walking over to the set of descending stairs.
"Where are you going?" Text's mind returned back to reality, noticing the other pony heading for the stairwell.
"I'm out of food," Magnum replied casually, not bothering to turn around and confront his questioner. "I also need to get rid of this," he nodded toward the carcass lying at the base of the stairs.
"So if you're planning on leaving, then what's stopping me from doing the same?" Text bore a dark glance at his captor, who was preoccupied with lifting the body off of the ground.
Magnum thought a moment. "Not that I care if you leave or not," he let out a bemused chuckle, "but where exactly were you planning on going?" Magnum paused only for a moment, not allowing any time for Text to answer. "Back to the REA? You just shot your own soldier. Good luck explaining that." Magnum grunted, hoisting the dead body onto his back.
Text thought a moment and realized Magnum was right.
"I'll be back whenever," Magnum muttered, carrying the dead stallion outside and closing the door behind him.
Text took a deep breath, reveling in the first moments to himself he was allowed all day, taking the extra time to slow his exhale and calm his nerves.
Standing up from the table, Text stretched out his body and approached a nearby window. He glared off into the distance, scanning the horizon. The small town before him lay in ruins; just piles of rubble and shells of former buildings that once stood proud.
Text thought for a moment, going over his options. He couldn't return to the army, he knew that. He couldn't just stay here, either. He could return home, maybe...
Home... no. Never again. His mind betrayed his better judgement; he tried unsuccessfully to keep the floodgate closed to the memories he had long suppressed...
Text burst through his own doorway, a wide grin across his face. Just as he expected, his marefriend, Belle Pinceau, stood beyond the doorway, dropping her paintbrush in surprise.
"I got the job!" Text called out, immediately greeted by a shriek of excitement from the mare before him. She dove for the stallion, forgetting about the painting she had been previously preoccupied with, and embraced him with a loving hug.
"I knew you could do it," she whispered in his ear, the ever-present hint of French in her accent.
Text's grin grew larger through the embrace of his lover, a single tear rolling down the side of his face.
"I did it. I'm a writer now."
With a yell, the pony slammed his hoof into a nearby wall, promptly ending the flashback as quickly as it began. Taking another deep breath to calm his nerves and dispel his anger, he decided to go for a walk.
Text strolled slowly down the abandoned street, his eyes wandering through the rubble, analyzing every aspect of the destroyed city to keep his mind off of his past. He was soldier a now, and that's all he ever would be.
Deciding to head for the town square, Text took a right at the next turn, only to face another seemingly endless horizon of debris and torched buildings. As much as he tried to fight it, his impending memories continued to nag him, no longer locked away by the inner-sanctum of his mind...
Text took a few steps outside, staring off into the distance. His final decision had been made, but his mind continued racing with conflict.
"Wait! Text!" Belle called out from behind him, urging her lover to stay.
The stallion turned around and faced the mare, his eyes locking onto hers. "Belle, listen. They say the war won't last more than a month. I'll be fine," he reassured her.
"But... I'm scared, Text. What would I do without you?"
Before justifying her with an answer, he gently leaned in and gave her a reassuring kiss. "I'll tell you what. I will go and fight this silly little war for Celestia, I'll come back a hero, and then we'll get married. How does that sound?"
Belle simply smiled before extending her neck up to return the kiss, this one being much more passionate than the last. "Do you promise?" She smiled at him, staring deep into his eyes.
"I promise."
Text broke his casual walk into a full sprint, doing everything in his power to fight the oncoming memories. Before he knew it, he had arrived at the town square and had to grind himself to a stop. He stared in awe at the six statues erected at the center of the town square, damaged from the bombing but still surprisingly intact, for the most part.
Text recognized the six stone statutes before him almost immediately as the elements of harmony.
Making his way towards the statue farthest to the right, he recalled learning about the six elements of harmony in school, and about their many adventures to save Equestria time and time again. Many had thought they were just old foal's tales.
Reading off of the plaque on the first statue, Text mouthed the words written upon it:
Applejack: The Element of Honesty
Text smiled, casually moving onto the next statue, reading it as he had the last:
Rarity: The Element of Generosity
Moving down the line of statues, Text continued reading off each statue as he went:
Rainbow Dash: The Element of Loyalty
Fluttershy: The Element of Kindness
Pinkie Pie: The Element of Laughter
Arriving at the final statue, Text couldn't help but notice the other five granite ponies seemed to revolve around the final statue. He read of the plaque of the last of the six elements of harmony:
Twilight Sparkle: The Element of Magic
Text took a step back, marveling in the glory of what was thought to be a myth.
Taking a deep breath, the olive-coated stallion fought more memories from flooding in after his brief distraction. Desperate to avoid his past, he began to walk home again, trying to find anything to take his mind off of his memories he had blocked out long ago, but to no avail.
Rubbing his front hooves together in anticipation, Text nestled warmly into his seat in the taxi.
The driver, taking notice of the R.E.A pin on his passenger's chest, chose to speak up. "That's a nice pin you have there. You just finish your tour of duty?"
"Yeah," the war veteran nearly yelled from excitement. "Heading home to see my marefriend. I haven't told her yet, though. It's going to be a surprise."
"Oh, yeah?" The driver chuckled, amused by the soldier's excitement.
"I'm going to ask her to marry me, just as I promised two years ago..." Text's voice trailed off, his imagination anticipating Belle's reaction when she saw him. His daydreaming was cut short, however, as something outside caught his attention.
"Pull over!" Text called out, followed shortly by the driver slamming on the brakes.
"What's wrong?" He turned around to ask the soldier, only to be greeted by an empty seat and an open door.
Text jumped out into the pouring rain, glaring up at the massive structure before him. Text closed his eyes, sighing deeply. He knew almost immediately what had happened. He took one last look at the overshadowing factory before turning back to his waiting taxi.
"Something wrong?" The driver asked, a concerned look on his face.
"Oh, no... It's nothing," the solider lied, "there just used to be an old printing press right here a few years ago..."
Fighting tears from his eyes, Text walked slowly down the abandoned street. He knew fighting his past was pointless now, and he put all of his remaining willpower on getting back to the house.
With no opposing thoughts, his final repressed memory fought its way into his mind.
Text closed his eyes for a moment, trying to let his surprise pass. He could always get a job elsewhere, as long as he had Belle by his side.
"Alright soldier, we're here." The driver grunted, grinding the vehicle to a halt next to a small house.
"Thanks for the ride," Text mumbled, handing over the bits he owed the taxi driver, who immediately began to count his payment. Getting out of his transport, the war veteran approached the place he called home years ago. Text took a deep breath before reaching for the door and pushing it open.
"Belle, I'm ho-" Text began to call out, only to be stopped short by the sheer shock of what he saw. His mind went blank as the imaginary force of a stampeding bull hit him straight in the gut. Text wanted to feel pain, sadness, anger, something. Instead, he just felt nothing. Nothing at all. All emotion had been stripped from him within that mere fraction of a second.
"Text?!" Belle called out in surprise, causing the stallion on top of her to turn his head.
The soldier's expression didn't change as he turned around and faced the torrential downpour waiting outside.
"Wait,” His marefriend yelled, “I can explain!" She forced the mysterious stallion off of her and trotted for the doorway.
Text felt as though his heart had been torn asunder; any emotion he was capable of feeling had dissipated completely. He took a single step outside, absorbing the spontaneous wetness from the downpour above.
With one final look at his once wife-to-be, Text approached the taxi on the curb and entered it.
The driver, who had just finished counting his payment, gave the emotionless soldier a confused glance.
"Back so soon?" The driver asked, breaking the silence.
"Just get me out of here," Text answered, his deadpan expression unchanged.
"Alright, you're the boss," the driver shrugged, turning back to his steering wheel. "Where to?"
Text paused, thinking a moment. There was only one place left for him to go. Only one place he could still call home.
"Take me back."
Magnum groaned, the bags of apples on his back beginning to take its toll on him after a mile of walking as he approached his temporary home.
Opening his door, the silver pony looked around for the REA soldier. Although he would never admit it, he was beginning to enjoy the company.
"Took you long enough," Text called out jokingly from the other room.
"You know I could just let you starve, right?" Magnum retorted, slightly amused by the other pony's humor, a slight grunt escaping his lips as he set the bags he had been carrying on the table.
Opening one of the bags, the NLR mercenary took one of the apples in his mouth and walked into the other room, tossing the apple towards Text, who caught it between his hooves.
"Count yourself lucky, that's one of the last apples from Appleoosa before it got annexed." Magnum informed the other stallion, watching him investigate the apple before taking a large bite.
"Thanks," Text muttered between bites, clearly enjoying his treat. "Where did you get these, anyway?"
"I know people," Magnum shrugged as he headed up the nearby stairwell. "Now, if you don't mind, it's late and I'm tired."
"Where do you expect me to sleep, then?"
"Figure it out," Magnum said dryly, stopping on the stairs and looking back at the soldier, who gave him a blank stare.
"Tell me something... er, what did you say your name was?"
"Text."
"Ah, yes. Tell me, Text. Are you still breathing?"
"Uh, yeah, I gue-"
"You're welcome," Magnum smiled impishly before trotting the rest of the way up the stairs.
