Prologue
Nightmare Moon continued flying away from Canterlot, chuckling to herself as she though on how easy it was to convince the foalish Luna to let her into the young alicorns heart. Oh yes, Luna's name would be known by everypony as soon as she was done. "Now, off to gain worthy allies," she said, thinking out loud as she banked towards the first city on her long list, Manehatten.
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Nightmare Moon, after the possession of Luna, gained many allies. Two years later, her plans were ready to put into motion.
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Nightmare sat at the head of the war table, covered in maps and reports, surrounded by the commanders of her army. Iron Flank, commander of her armored divisions, sat nearest to her left. She was an earth pony with a light grey coat, a dark grey mane, an iron pipe as her cutie mark. Her decorated black uniform was pristine and every medal polished until they shined blindingly. She sat on her cushion and was currently looking over reports of her elite 501st armor brigade and other units. Closest to her right was the leader of the infiltrators squadrons, the secretive Silent Thunder, who waited her command to send the coded message to start the sabotage campaign. He had an ordinary appearance of a brown coat, blond mane, and a cutie mark of a closed book. The Shadowbolts commander, ShadowDread, was out with his troops but would be sending a message when all squadrons were in place. Everypony else she didn't care enough to learn about their worthless lives.
Getting up from her cushion, the murmuring in the room stopped and all eyes turned to her.
"We are about to make history, my loyal followers," her smooth voice demanded all attention. "All ponykind will see we are right when we make the great country of Equestria into the greatest military force anywhere." This was greeted by applause of everypony in the room.
She walked towards the door but paused and turned around, her eyes filled with determination.
"Prepare to change Equestria for the better!"
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The Nightmare army, consisting of Iron Flank's elite 501st armor brigade, the Nightmare basic infantry 5th division, and the 16th Artillery regiment was sent to invade Stalliongrad. After a massive aerial bombardment by the Elite 1st recon Shadowbolts air brigade, sent to pave the way for the infantry.
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"The first waves wait above the clouds over all of Celestia's biggest cities for the go ahead to start the plan, Mistress" A Pegasus in a dark purple jumpsuit stood at attention before the second most powerful being in Equestria. His wings ruffled slightly, the thin metal plates under his wings jingling, before continuing.
"All reports from the commanders show no response from the local Royal guard garrisions and all squadrons are outfitted with the weapons you requested." He retrieved the reports out of his saddlebag and pushed them across the polished wood desk.
Nightmare Moon glanced at the reports, noting that all her requests had been met with all-out compliance, before looking straight at the Pegasus. The Pegasus was freaking out on the inside until a wicked smile graced her muzzle.
"Make sure they leave nothing untouched!"
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Expecting little to no resistance, the advance force of the invasion entered the city arrogantly. What they meet was the Sun Guard.
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The Advanced force had walked unopposed all the way to the outer city.
Soldier ponies now joked and played around the camp, most saying any enemy force had been killed by the bombardment. Much of the force had already started celebrating, bringing out bottles and instruments, and generally having a good time. None of them saw the shadows around them until it was too late.
When the main body of the invasion force found the camp every single pony of the advance force had been piled into a pit and set ablaze. Many in the pit looked to have been alive when the inferno had started.
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The Sun Guard, made as a last ditch effort to hold the city, consisting mainly of poorly trained but brutal civilians, a small armored brigade, and a even smaller air force. All are devoted to seeing the city freed from the siege. They are led by the few trained officers left. The Royal Guard, busy fighting on multiple fronts, has only sent a highly trained squad of four Wonderbolts, armed for dog fighting airborne foes. Their training of some of the local Pegasus have made a highly formidable air force.
There are a great many who find their special talent in war such as marksmanship, demolition, and other war related fields. A great many who had simpler talents like sculpting or farming now found themselves thrown into the war.
It has been close to a year since the invasion of the mighty city began, and the battle is still going strong with vicious street by street fighting. The Nightmare army's massive armor brigade and tactics have been rendered useless in the tight, rubble filled streets. As the fighting goes on as the Nightmare army tries to hold its position versus a seemingly endless enemy. Hundreds of small squads of Sun Guard ponies scour through the wreckage looking for vulnerable targets, deep within enemy controlled land.
And so our story begins in the remains of the outer city as one such squad fights for the freedom of their fair city and for the glorious Princess….
The thundering hooves and cracks of rifles filled the air like a chorus of war; it was beautiful to the young soldier pony. His short brown mane, clotted with dirt and grime, stuck to his face as he continued galloping down the road. Bullets, like angry hornets zipping past him eager for his flesh, poured out of the Nightmare soldier's line as ponies tried to hold their place at the end of the street in a last ditch effort to survive the ambush.
"They are going to break, push harder comrades!" yelled Sergeant Shredder, a massive light yellow earth pony, from his right before an angry hornet turned his face into something like a smashed tomato. Sliding into cover to escape a similar fate, the soldier pony took a second to catch a breath. Bullets continued to pelt his meager cover, seeking a way to find the ponies flesh. He found himself thinking back to when this had all began. One month ago. One month of street by street fighting, one month of watching fellow soldiers be killed by the ponies of the Nightmare cities and killing them as well. He could only ponder at why was he the only one left form his original squad. He could only guess why a bullet had not stolen his breath. In the end he could not answer any of this.
Checking his rifle attached to his beaten brown saddle, his one constant companion since his meager training, for any damages during his charge. None he could see on the wood stock or the barrel. He then proceeded to check for a round in the chamber. When all was good he peeked to the side of his cover.
Zing! A bullet ricocheted off the side of the burned out carriage that the young soldier pony had taken refuge behind. Looking down the street, filled with burned out carriages and debris, the young solider pony aimed for a blurred shape, the light snow that continually fell in Stalliongrad blurring everything not five feet away. Lining up the sights to aim for the chest of the foe in his sights, He bit down on the firing bit.
Crack! A sharp crack filled the young pony ears as the rifle bucked, sending his own angry hornet towards the enemy line. He was rewarded when he saw the blurred figure double over and fall to the ground. No remorse was felt by the young soldier pony as he reloaded his constant companion with a kick. He turned to find the rest of his squad had caught up with him and had taken cover near him. All eyes looked to him for orders.
He let loose a rallying call "For the Glorious Princess Celestia!" his deep voice sending it all the way to the enemy before his comrades echoed the call. The street rang with the glorious princess's name as the young soldier pony led the charge down the remaining part of the ravaged streets, filling the road with the pounding of hooves for blood, taking the fight to the ponies in black uniforms.
No prisoners are taken. No mercy. No retreat. No surrender. Those are the rules of the Sun Army.
And those rules made no exception today as Crack Shot and his squad executed every last one of them.
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The entire squad had taken refuge in abandoned building, a tailors shop at one time but now just a burnt room with a couple mannequins still mostly intact and a lot of ruined fabric. The Crack Shot smiled remembering training just eight weeks prior where those had been the enemy, dressed up in uniforms of fallen foes of Stalliongrad, and a crate full of potatoes as grenades. "The good old days." He muttered to nopony particular, as he attempted to humor himself.
He remembered his original squad, many ponies strong, but he had only taken the time to really get to know two of them. Arkady, a light brown coated earth pony like himself, only with a darker mane, almost black, and with a cutie mark of a potato. Crack Shot had seen at some parties he had gone to before the war and Arkady had seemed like a fun and good pony to know. Arkady was great with a sub machine gun when it came to killing, mowing down enemies with ease. He had met his end by poking his head out of a window as they were repelling an ambush at the wrong time and having his brains repaint a wall behind him. Crack Shot's every bullet had rested in the stomachs of the attackers that day. Then there was Dead Center, a white coated Pegasus, whose charcoal mane was longer then everyone else in the squad. He had been one of the best shots, his cutie mark being a bull's eye,and had been issued a sniper saddle. Dead Center could hit targets easily 250 yards away and had saved Crack Shot's flank more than once. Unfortunately, sniper saddles did not do anything versus tanks. There hadn't been much to bury of Dead Center.
Of the others he knew not whether they had survived as everypony had been broken up into teams of three and sent all over the war torn city. Shortly after the deaths of both of squad mates, had gotten placed into a new squad. About two weeks later, Crack Shot had gotten separated from his new squad during a raid on an enemy outpost, and had simply been told to stick with the group he was with now.
The current squad consisted of 8 ponies, all caring either a rifle or sub-machine gun as a weapon, The exception had been Sergeant Shredder, who had carried a shotgun he had christened as Little Thunder. They wore different saddles of varying design, and some had thick winter scarves or hats. The one thing all of them had in common was, on at least one article of clothing, the blazing sun of Princess Celestia's cutie mark; the banner of the mighty Sun Guard, stood out proudly.
As he looked at the others many of them were wrapping up wounds, none too serious, and a couple more were eating some food around a small smokeless fire near a shattered window. He looked himself over for wounds. No new scars marred his light brown coat and his cutie mark, a rifle, had not been blown off. He had been lucky. They had lost two today for one street, Sergeant Shredder and a new earth pony recruit whose name he had never learned. They were buried by the rest of the squad in the back yard of the shop in shallow, unmarked graves. Crack Shot had taken Little Thunder.
Crack Shot decided to check up on the watch and radio. The sniper of the squad, a sky blue Pegasus with a scope cutie mark that went by Sharp, was taking first watch on the second floor. He was almost as good as Dead Center, almost as he tended to miss two out of every five shots.
"Any patrols heading this way yet?" Crack Shot asked as he walked up to the window Sharp was looking out of with a pair of binoculars, sweeping his gaze over the smoldering remains of the city.
Shaking his head, his dirtied mane swishing back and forth, before he replied "None yet." Turning to Crack Shot he continued "Honestly, I think we hit that patrol's radio stallion because I'm not seeing anything." His sentence ended with Sharp breaking into a little coughing fit. Crack Shot slipped his canteen from his neck and passed it to the Pegasus who nodded his thanks before taking a big gulp from the beaten steel container.
After handing back the canteen he went back to scanning over the wrecked city. Suddenly he got up from his crouched position proceeded to adjusted his saddle and scarf before quickly stating "I though i saw some movement, I'm going to take a look from the sky." Sharp said moving a pair flight goggles, which had been loosely hanging around his neck, over his eyes. He climbed into the window sill and after looking back and giving a proper salute, hoof raised to the chest horizonally, flared out his wings and rocketed out the window into smoky skies. Crack Shot watched him go, fascinated by the grace of a Pegasus in flight. Even if he wasn't always a great shot he was a amazing flier.
A burst of static and a stream of angry mumbling turned Crack Shot's attention to the grey unicorn fiddling with a radio on a damaged desk. His black tail swished back and forth in concentration. A light glow lit up his little corner from his horn.
"Static Dial have you still not fixed that thing?" Crack Shot asked angrily, it had been an hour since Static had started working on the little device, and it seemed no progress was made.
"It wasn't hit in the charge, I didn't drop it, I didn't spill anything on it, I just can't figure what's wrong with it!" Static's irritation getting the better as he snapped on his new commanding officer. Static cast his eyes down as he realized what he just did before replying "Sorry...sir."
Crack Shot laid a hoof on the unicorn's shoulder "Forget it happened." Then walked past him to inspect the radio, a simple green box with a small speaker and numerous dials and switches, and a little red light in the right corner to know when it was on. After inspecting it for a minute, Crack Shot raised a hoof and brought it down upon the radio. Hard.
"What are you doi…..!" Static was interrupted by a voice now coming out of the little troublesome little device.
"To all units in the area, tank activity has increased. Use extreme caution when moving about or engaging enemy forces."
That moment Sharp came zooming into the window, His eyes wide as dinner plates, a worried expression upon his face.
"We may have a problem…"
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The empty, war torn, and silent street's only companion was a lone pony whose black uniform stood out against the white of the snow and the brown of the buildings. From afar you could tell that he had been through some heavy fighting; bandages covered his cutie mark, and his uniform was torn and bloodied. Getting closer you would notice a dirty brown mane uncharacteristic of the common Nightmare soldier, usually dyed midnight black, which traveled only a short ways down his neck. If you got right next to this lone soldier you would notice that the uniform was a tight fit on the muscular pony and you might notice the hole in the side of uniform, staunched in blood.
"This is just about the stupidest thing I've ever done," Crack Shot thought for what had to be the eleventh time, as he adjusted the stolen uniform once again. After Sharps had explained that an armor supported squad was sweeping the area, Crack Shot knew that he had to take out to continue his operations.
The plan that he had come up with was a simple one. They had scavenged a Nightmare uniform taken from the least torn body from the previous battle. A radio stolen from the decimated squad, chattering with requests for air, tank, infantry support, and a lot of coded messages was used to call support from the tank squad, which was now heading towards his position. He would greet them as a wounded pony left behind and send their infantry to go "support" his squad. The kill zone was all ready. While they went ahead he would get the tank commander to come out to talk to him. As the hatch would open, Sharp would swoop down from the roofs to drop a line of all the precious grenades they had into the belly of the beast. All this pins were tied together with sting found in the tailors shop.
"This is the stupidest thing I've ever done," a sighing Crack Shot said, bringing a hoof to his temple.
Chapter 2:Always a cost
The lonely, desolate street with its rubble and smoke was all but silent except for the pony lying against an overturned apple cart; it had once been a beautiful red like the apples it use to hold, now blackened and dead like much of Stalliongrad. His slight breathing, like a sharp crack of a rifle in this dead place, moved his torn and stolen uniform. The always present snow had increased, blinding all further. The lowering temperature would force any regular pony inside but not Crack, not any Sun Army soldier, and definitely not the tank and its infantry. His throat a parched desert and his nerves strung like guitar strings, He realized he was scared. Crack Shot had never been much of a worry wart, being an enthusiastic gambler when the odds were in his favor; however, he normally wasn’t a risk taker, especially one as the circumstances at the moment required. The only other risky thing he had ever done before the war was a bet on a Pegasus derby one summer long ago when he had wagered on the least favored to win. The Pegasus had done well though finishing fifth out of eighteen and earning Crack Shot a few pretty bits for his gamble.
But this was like betting on the Pegasus with a broken wing. This was stupid. But his part in the plan was essential and a simple plan at that, but when something could go wrong it would.
He understood that he was most likely going to die, that this might be the end of his brief adventure in life. The thought of dying in battle for Stalliongrad and the glorious Princess Celestia filled him with a bittersweet joy. Crack shot was determined to take a few of these bastards with him before his story came to an end.
“In death I might find peace,” Crack shot pondered, “maybe even meet up with Dead Center and Arkady. Hit all the bars. I hope they have bars with unlimited flowing taps in paradise,” he mused darkly. “See all my lost relatives… cousin, uncle, aunt, grandparents,” he looked up to the dreary clouds that hung above.’“….Maybe even mother.” A tear forced it way into the world through his tired eye. One of his happier memories rushing back to him after so much killing and hate, to the one time he had seen had seen the evil that had ravaged Equestria.
“…mother…”
14 years ago
Two ponies, one large and the other small, trotted down the nearly deserted streets. Beautiful floral decorations hung from many of the store fronts; lilies, roses,tulips, and many more arranged in displays and vases. The beautiful clear sky allowed the sun to warm all under its gaze. All around a wonderful day. The two ponies continued by a green park. The smaller stopped and looked towards the playground where a few young ponies screamed and ran after one another. The larger pony stopped as well.
“Hurry up Shot or were going to miss the parade, ” the larger pony, a light chestnut mare said, looking back to the young colt, the slight wind pushing at her crimson mane.
“But mom those ponies look like they're having fun,” Crack Shot,the smaller, whined. He pointed with a tiny booted hoof to a group of other young ponies playing in a nearby park; a small playground was the center of their focus. With one look at his mother’s face he knew the answer. He hung his head in defeat and continued walking.
“Do you remember why they are having this parade Shot?” His mother asked as they continued their walk to the main gates of the inner city, the city being split up into three circles: The inner city being the place of government, the middle city was the market and general business, and the outer city which was mainly a residential zone but had a couple businesses and warehouses. Crack shot had never see the inner city where both his parents worked. They were in the middle city. The usually busy merchants sector was surprisingly quite and empty, the business owners and merchants closing early to enjoy the parade.
“Ah……hmm...” Crack shot racked his small head for the answer. “Free muffins day?” he asked stumped. His mother’s laughter filled his ears. Looking up in surprise, he found she had fallen over in laughter.
“Hey stop being a mean mom, I tried my best!” Crack Shot cried out to his incapacitated mother, who had just gotten herself under control though a few quiet giggles still escaped her mouth. She readjusted her hat and scarf before motioning for him to continue to follow her down the relatively unpopulated sidewalk, though there was a unicorn couple who had just continued walking, smiles on their faces.
“I’m sorry son, but that was hilarious,” she stated, another giggle escaping her mouth. “But back to the point,” her face grew serious, but she still wore a slight smile. “The reason we are having a parade is because the Princesses are visiting the Mayor and are staying in the city for a while, so we are welcoming them with a wonderful parade.” In the distance a wondrous cacophony of trumpets and drums started up. “Hurry now or we’ll miss it,” his mother urged, already speeding up her pace. Crack Shot followed eagerly.
Mane street was bursting with ponies, a sea of color and motion, all lined up against the sides of the street while leaving a corridor for the parade. They quickly made their way to a slowly closing gap. There were a couple of ponies in front of them so Crack Shot climbed on his mothers back to get a view at the passing attractions. He had gotten up just in time to see a squad of Royal Guard march sternly past, their golden armor clean and pristine, and their white coats spotless. Electric blue manes and tales swayed with each step. Swords hung in their sheaths of the sides of each, easily in reach if needed. Each and everyone one of them wore a serious expression and stared straight ahead, as if they were statues from the neck up. He had even heard from a pony in is class that they were golems, ponies made from clay and earth. Seeing them now he might just agree. Then a gleaming open high-backed carriage on which a plush cushion sat rolled into view of Crack Shot. Lying upon said fancy cushion was Her Royal Highness, Regent of the Sun Princess Celestia. Her glorious white coat shone and her wavering mane sparkled. Although she was dressed for battle in her shinning golden armor - a brilliant breast plate, hoof guards, and helmet- her expression was relaxed as if everything was right in the world, all of the soldiers and armor was just ceremony. The cheering intensified as she passed.
Then it quieted notably, a wave of silence rolling from down the street accompanied by quiet whispers. Another squad, this one of four Pegasus and four earth ponies, was making its way up the street. But they did not gleam like the Royal Guard, in fact light seemed to shrivel up and die around them; as if their armor absorbed it. “Luna’s Honor Guard…”, “…Mercenaries...””…after the attempt...”, “…loyal only to her…” all this and more was heard by Crack Shot as he watched them walk by. They all wore intricate mystic blue armor similar in structure to the Royal Guard but more artful, personal trophies and trappings adoring there armor. Under that armor was a dull grey coat and close cropped black manes and tails, all of them equipped with rifles. Their expressions matched those of the Royal Guard in seriousness and yet in their eyes madness lurked, searching for something and anything to give them the excuse to maim and injure with their not-so-ceremonial rifles. Following behind was a silvery blue chariot pulled by more of the strange soldiers. The chariot itself looked fierce with small steel spikes covering the front and the intricate swirling designs that were painted on the chassis. It could not, however, compare to its only occupant. Her Serene Highness, Conveyor of the Night, Mistress of the Stars, Princess Luna. Her midnight blue coat was well groomed, but like her guards light seemed to be absorbed around it. Her armor mirrored her sisters except for color, hers being a midnight blue, and helmet which was not so open like her sisters. Her mane, which seemed to contain a window into a starry night sky, flowed behind her with a mind of its own. She held an emotionless face and was very stiff in posture, a coiled snake ready to strike. She was the exact opposite of her sister.
The parade continued with acrobats, a marching band, and many other wondrous performances. Eventually they all came to an end and the crowd began to disperse and talk of home or gathering places replaced that of trumpets and sounds of admiration. Crack Shot climbed off his mothers back, expecting to be heading home as well, looked at his mother for directions to find she was deep in thought, her brow furrowed. Suddenly shaking her head violently she seemed to snap out of it as she turned and smiled at Crack Shot.
“Let’s head home, dear,” the smile she gave him didn’t hold any joy. “Mommy is going to leave once we get there but hopefully your father will be home,” said as she started back the way they came. “Maybe we’ll stop to get some ice cream on the way.”
Joy quickly hounded confusion out of his mind at the mention of his favorite frozen treat. Eagerly he followed, thoughts of the mean looking princess pushed to the back of his mind.
Present time
Crack Shot was shaken from his flashback by a deep rumbling that sent the nearby debris dancing. He made last minute checks on his disguise. “The tears will help sell it,” the thought came to him as he felt the moisture condensed under his eyes. “First time in months,” he mused.
The rumbling increased steadily vibrating loose debris and Crack Shot himself. He did a final check for what was most likely his last fight, adjusting the 2 and a half inches of retractable and sharpened death attached to his hoof. “Not much against a tank.” He could see it now charging the mighty steel vehicle and furiously scratching its paint.
The tank finally appeared. A standard manticore class, about 16 to 20 hoofs tall, with chipped and worn purple, black, and silver painting covering it. Its main turret, which somepony could easily fit their front hoof in it, pointed directly at Crack Shot. its secondary, a machine gun protruding form the front, seemed to be bent and out of commission. Behind it trotted its infantry. Crack Shot counted about 15 or 18 heads, but with the tank slowly obscuring his view this was probably wrong. Its top hatch remained closed and it was slowly approaching, wary of ambush. The unit stopped midway down the street. From behind the steel wall that was the tank a voice came.
“Night!” it called and waited for an answer.
“Eternal!” Crack Shot hoped that that was still being used. When he wasn’t torn to shreds, the breath he did not know he was holding was expelled.
The tank didn’t approach but the infantry did, very cautiously. Eyes scanned buildings and sky for impending death. Their dirty black uniforms and black saddles carrying an assortment of weapons stuck out among the white of the snow. The big 501 on their helmets marked them part of the elite tank forces of the invading force. The deep violet unicorn mare at the front, obviously the leader, stopped 5 hoofs away.
“Name and Rank now or we shoot!” all eyes and sights trained on him.
“Corporal Ripple,” the stenciled name on his uniform, “acting C.O of the scout squad gamma, Major Fumes was killed a couple days ago.” This was found scratched into a dirty journal.
“Where is the rest of your squad?” they seemed more relaxed, good.
“Holed up in a shop down the street, there is a burned out carriage right in front of it,” that would lead them straight into the guns of his squad. It would be a massacre. “ volunteered to stay out here to meet you, ma’am.” Another voice from the crowd sprang up, sweet and smooth.
“Are you injured?” A pony made its way towards him. This one was different; the pony’s uniform off-white and a red cross instead of a 501 on its helmet. He could not tell whether it was a stallion or a mare do to the bandanna over its face and the full medical bags slung on its sides, covering most of its midsection. Crack Shot had to play his part or the whole plan would suffer.
“Yes, but not seriously,” motioning towards his wrapped flanks. “Caught a stray in the rear,” The squad around him gave a chuckle. “I will need to tell the tank commander some new orders command sent me with.”
The violet unicorn shouted orders around and the squad moved around him, none of them really looked at him as they were too busy scanning the buildings. He had to stop himself from letting out a sigh of relief. Which if he had would have preemptive.
The white clad pony had stayed behind and was beginning to walk towards him. If he allowed himself to be attended to his secret would surely be revealed but neither could he just kill the pony with the tank still sitting 8 or 10 hoofs away. It had moved closer, but remained closed, the officer probably getting from his command position to the exit. Just a couple of seconds and then the plan would start. The pony had gotten almost gotten to him, only 3 or 4 hoofs away when the tank opened up. A unicorn with what was maybe once a mint coat, but now smudged black from the tanks blood, lifted out his head and torso from the steel beast’s belly. The markings on his helmet named him as commander.
“Command’s being risky giving orders to infantry scum like you,” his speaking was refined, probably from Trottingham or Manehatten. “Who knows what would have happened if you had been captured, probably squealed at the sight of a knife and told them everything ” the way he had said “them” was like if he had been speaking of a dirty vermin nuisance. Crack Shot did not like this pony.
“They said it was too risky sending it on of the air waves, something meant for yours and my ears only,” looking at the white clad pony still approaching him. “Your friend must leave.” He said looking at the medic.
“Medic, go attend to the other wounded.” and with that the medic cantered off in the direction of the doomed squad. The filthy unicorn watched the pony for a second before returning his eyes to Crack Shot.
The chatterer of rifle and screams of death sprang up from behind Crack Shot. The now startled tank commander jumped at these sounds. His narrowed dark green eyes burrowed into Crack Shot’s before realization dawned on his face .
“Its a fucking trap!” he screamed to the other crew members within the tank as he reached with his mouth to the open hatch. With a feral cry Sharp leaped into the smokey skies above from the roofs and began to plummet towards the tank. The mint unicorn eyes grew large.He dropped the hatch and ducked his head for a second. He returned with a mouth operated pistol. Crack Shot jumped up and galloped at the wall of imposing steel.
Even though there was a heated battle was fought not far from him, Crack shot heard the pistols pop and saw it throw the inexperienced shooter to the side and tear itself from its owners mouth, Also knocking off the unsecured helmet. Looking to Sharp he saw the surprise in the young Pegasus's eyes before Sharp plowed into the ground beside the tank. Crack Shot quickly ran to his side, the tank backing up with its dazed commander still on top,concern only for his friend.
A slowly growing red stain surrounded the sky blue Pegasus fed by a hole right at the bottom of his neck. Crack Shot rushed to his side and gathered his friend's head in his hoofs. He felt a cold metal being pushed into his side and when he looked found the grenade bundle. He met Sharps eyes for a second and saw a plead to take them, he must finish Sharp’s part. Finding the Pegasus's eyes once more he witnessed the light in them flicker and go out. His chest ceased rising and his last breath pushed at Crack Shots dirty bangs.
“Find Paradise,” Crack Shot whispered to his fallen fellow. Grieving would have its time later. Taking the string of bombs in his mouth he ran at the slowly moving steel monster. Jumping and clinging to the slippery steel, he began to make his way up the to the top of the turret. The dazed unicorn had somewhat regained his senses and jumped up to meet his advance. The smile that opened the pony’s face showed perfect teeth. Crack Shot wanted to correct that. He squared up, rearing up on his hind legs, and activated the hoof blade. The unicorn kept down on all four hoofs and eyed the knife with hesitant eyes. The nightmare tank trooper made the first move, closing the small distance in a single hop, kicking with both back hoofs. Crack Shot hopped back and swung downward at the retreating hoofs and missed. Knocked off balance form his swing he tried to recover. The unicorn reared up and threw a jab at Crack’s face. It connect with a sharp crack knocking Crack flat on his stomach and the grenades fell out, falling into a recess on the turret. “Now you die vermin.” The unicorn prepared both his back hoofs to cave in the Crack’s skull. With a grunt the unicorn brought them down only to connect with cold unforgiving steel and crumpled in pain. Crack shot slashed at the ponies legs and sank a fair sized cut in one of its legs. The unicorn only gave a small grunt of pain.Crack quickly stepped above the fallen pony and rested the knife on his throat. “Fuck you,” The unicorn grinned.Crack shot retracted the knife and brought down his back hoof on the stomach of the commander. Doubling in pain the pony continued. “You hit like a foal,” Rolling onto his back he gave a toothy grin. “You're mother was a whore,” A malicious smile lighted Crack Shot’s face as he brought his other hoof into the teeth of the commander. The pony spit two or three teeth out of to the side before looking back with a smile, showing the newly missing teeth. “All you got you little hayseed?” He was awarded with another hoof to the face. Crack Shot rolled the pony onto its stomach. The unicorn spat another glob of blood onto the purple paint. “Killing your friend was just as fun as playing a fun party ga...” The sentence was cut off by the grenade bundle being forcibly fed to him. Crack quickly bucked him towards the hatch. The pony slid into the waiting hole.
“For Sharp you bastards,” the whisper barely beating the wind. He quickly rushed to get off the tank. He hit the ground and put all his being into his gallop.
The explosion lifted him off his hoofs as the magazine of the tank exploded and the light blinded him. The tank wrenched itself apart, tossing a mass of steel flying all around.. Crack Shot skidded to a stop in front of the red apple cart. His ears rung like church bells , all he tasted was copper, and he blinked away spots from his vision. But he had achieved success and smiled as he rolled over to survey his job. The street seemed to be on fire and the explosion had wrecked shop fronts on both sides of the street and flaming wreckage still rained from the sky. Sharp would be proud. Very proud
His smiled grew as he surveyed the destruction. Blackness began creeping upon him. He became aware of a warm liquid surrounding his forelegs.
“For Sharp,” he whispered again to the wind and gave into the welcoming blackness.
A/N Thanks to be editor/pre-reader Laurence Brown
