Blackhawk Down: Equestria

by Aedanryche

Rating: teen
Tags: Main 6, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Alternate Universe, Human, Princess Luna, Changelings, Braeburn, Rainbow Dash
Length: 37563

Two Rangers are litteraly dropped into Equestria, but little do they know that the peaceful life from the show has been long gone.

Corporal Kevin James Green of the 75th Army Ranger’s Division is sent to scout for Taliban forces surrounding Bagram AFB after a surprise attack during a sandstorm. The recon goes wrong however when the Blackhawk he and Private Clarence G. Powell crashes into Sweet Apple Acres after passing through an Anomaly in the field. Kevin thinks this must be a dream come true, until he realizes the Equestria he knows and loves is only a surface view of the struggles of Pony society.

Rated Teen for Violence and Vulgarity.

CANCELED AS OF 12-17-2024

Unable to make sense of any semblance of story from my notes, and therefore I'm adding this to the "Drunken Ramblings" bin.

Published 2013-02-03 16:20:01 UTC
Last updated 2013-04-02 00:30:45 UTC

Prologue: Blackhawk Down

Bagram AFB, Afghanistan. One could say it was a majestic and beautiful desert airstrip, back dropped by white capped and craggy violet and tan mountains, surrounded by nature’s beauty and lit from above by a hot and unobstructed sun. However, this is not the case. Currently, Bagram is held in a vice grip by a wicked and thick sand storm, the wind whipped grains akin to razor blades upon the skin to any caught in the dark and shrouded area. Everyone, down to the dogs and the cats, was ordered indoors, all civilians having been placed into military vehicles after a quick yet thorough search for explosives or weapons. One soldier in particular, Corporal Kevin James Green, was sitting on the polished concrete floors of the steel barracks his squadron racked in, leaned back against the wall. He had a green and black checked local head wrap coiled around his neck, his body armor open along with his tactical vest, his desert pattern fatigues coated in dust and dirt as he listened to the music tweeting through the earbuds in his ears.

“This shit blows Sarge,” Kevin said in an exasperated tone, sighing for dramatic effect. “Why don’t we just go kick the storms ass? I haven’t seen any action in weeks.” He cracked open one of his eyes slightly, looking across the room to the team leader, Sergeant Major Jacob Hatfield, the thirty year old man laying on his bunk with a frown etched onto his face. In the four years Kevin had known him, the man had never smiled.

“You do that Colt,” he said sarcastically. “You go out there and kick Mother Nature’s ass, and when you come back in after spending hours lost in this, I’ll hand you a nice cold beer and a ham sandwich.” Kevin and his four teammates chuckled halfheartedly as they all teetered on the cusp of sleep. Boredom truly was the bane of every soldier.

“I'm so glad I met you sweetheart,” Kevin joked back, a smile spread on his face. “You always know how to make my days better. Maybe tonight we can sleep together?” SGM Hatfield rolled his eyes, having stopped playing games with Kevin long ago.

“Hey Kevin,” The voice of PFC Clarence G. Powell called from across the room, his youthful face glued to the screen of a small analogue TV. “Why do they call you that? Colt I mean. It makes no sense to me.” The private swore and threw the controller he was holding onto the table, picking it back up and starting his game again. Kevin simply shook his head, laughing inwardly to himself as privates James Garner and Thomas Ferguson began to hum a tune, one that Kevin knew quite well. “I don’t get it. Is it something to do with your choice in weapons? I noticed your sidearm is a Colt.45, your rifle is a Colt M4A1, and even your knife is a Colt issue. Is that why?” Kevin allowed an audible chuckle as the subtle hint was lost on the eighteen year old.

“Clarence,” Specialist Geoff Thompson groaned as he wiped a hand over his face. “Why do we call you Light bulb?”

“Because I went to college, obviously,” Clarence said absentmindedly, half zoned on his round of Black Ops 2.

“No, it’s because you’re around a ten watt.” The private gave him a deathly glare as the team laughed, Geoff simply staring back to let him know he still outranked him.

“It’s something to do with television,” Garner said, his M16’s Picatinny hand guard floating in his loose grip. “You might understand it in that context. We considered calling him Rockstar and Houndog, but Colt was what stuck.”

“My weapons have nothing to do with it,” Kevin said, using his M4 for balance as he stood and walked over to the small arms locker the barracks had. “I would much rather have this beauty…” he said, pulling a Heckler-&-Koch HK416 from the rack, shouldering it and aiming at a pinup calendar on the wall.

“Corporal did I say you could fondle my wife in that manner,” Sarge asked, his eyes closed but having told him before to leave his rifle alone. “Let Barbara sleep, Colt. I already said you could use my SCAR, you damned vulture.” He lifted a plastic bottle to his mouth, spitting a mouthful of dip sauce out into the container. Kevin put the rifle back, pulling out the FN SCAR-L rifle from the rack, adjusting the stock to his liking and fitting a few attachments from his M4 to the top and fore-rails. He smiled as he tested the weight, preferring its central balance to the forward differential of the M4. “Just don’t stuff your dick in the receiver son. I’d hate to have to explain that medical report.” The team laughed as Kevin lowered the rifle, a bemused expression on his face.

The squad resumed their bored state as the storm raged outside, the sounds of small rocks pinging off the metal sides of the building ringing sporadically in their ears. Geoff had struck up a conversation with Garner, talking about what they were going to do when they shipped back stateside when a deep bass echoed through the sound of the howling wind. Kevin took out his earbuds when he noticed it, waiting for the sound to repeat itself as the conversations continued. He thought he heard it again, calling for silence quickly and straining his hearing. The sound was clearer the third time it happened.

“Outgoing,” Geoff said, the wind having died down slightly at this point.

“No, that’s incoming…” Thomas said as the fourth echo followed with a slight rumble in the floor.

“I’m telling you it’s outgoing,” Geoff repeated. “Artillery was scheduled to do a firing exercise today. Silence reined again, the calm shredding as the ground shook violently, four booming explosions racking the airfield outside.

“That’s frakking* incoming,” Kevin exclaimed, closing the Velcro on his BPV and tactical vest as he stood up and headed for the door.

“Head wraps or masks on,” Sarge ordered as he got out of his bunk and retrieved his rifle. “That storm’s still ongoing and you don’t want to get sand-lung. Grab your gear! Let's get tactical Rangers!” The squad was a flurry of rushed loading, arming and gearing-up as the explosions mixed with gunfire, the distinctive bass pop of Kalashnikov’s reached their ears as Sarge opened the door, his Coyote colored wrap covering his head and face beneath his helmet. Kevin slipped his gasmask on, fitting the folds of his wrap over his skin before slipping his helmet on and hurrying out of the building into the haze of sand and dust.

…

The strip was a mess, husks of burnt up Humvee frames and Blackhawk fuselages littering the now cratered asphalt runway. Troops milled around in an organized chaos, squad leaders shouting orders to their men and damage control teams being deployed to put out fires and rescue soldiers from collapsed structures. In the middle of the storm, Taliban insurgents had staged a surprise bombardment and raid on the base, causing mass destruction but an absence of casualties. The insurgent forces had escaped, but several teams were ordered to follow them, tracking them to their base of operations for the area.

“How the hell did this happen,” Kevin asked himself as he stared out the bay door of the UH-60 Blackhawk chopper, his rifle scanning the area below and to the left of the bird for anything with an AK. He had been on a patrol search for a five-mile radius just yesterday, searching for any hostile encampments within the hazard range. They had found nothing; even less than nothing point in fact, the operation having been a waste of fuel and time. Kevin keyed his mic, speaking into the boom-mic over the chopper blades. “Light Bulb, do you see anything on your side?” He made a mental note to slap Sergeant Hatfield when they returned to base for giving Clarence such an important job.

“No, and don’t call me that Colt. It’s degrading…” Kevin reached behind himself and slapped the private in the chest, misdirecting his aggression and frustration. The deafening sound of the blades above them reigned for several hours, the sun having descended into the horizon far enough to cause the pilot to lower their visor shield. Kevin sighed and pulled his rifle back into the bay, taking off his helmet as he resigned to casually scan for hostiles.

“Colt,” the pilot called from the cabin, motioning with a hand through the doorway. “I have something on visual ahead. You might want to get up here and take notes.” Kevin looked at his watch, finding they were past the halfway point and their return trip was supposed to be happening now. He sighed and stood in the bay, sliding the door on his side shut with a loud rumble and clack as the bearings worked and the latches closed. He turned around, fluidly slamming the SCAR-L into the weapons rack as he walked into the cockpit.

“What do you have Allison?” He asked the pilot, her blond hair peeking out from under her helmet. She twitched her view toward him, turning back to the glass dome before her and pointing toward the sun. Kevin followed her arm, finding the sun to be undoubtedly blindingly bright.

“I’ve seen some green flashes of light up-sun for the past three minutes,” as she spoke a spire of nearly solid green streaked for the sky, nearly blotting out the sun in a lime glow that bathed the red lighted cockpit a sickly shade. “You see? These things come in thirty second intervals, always on time and always the same.” Kevin nodded as he leaned against the doorway, chewing on his cheek as he thought. “Do you want to contact Tower or should I?” Kevin thought over the idea, deciding it would be easier for her to fly without some ass braying in her ear the whole time.

“You concentrate on keeping us away from any AA positions there might be,” he said, tapping her on the shoulder twice before lifting a headset from the wall and plugging it into a radio hub on the wall. He turned on his line, donning the headset and heralding base. “This is Colt in Big Bird-Seven, come back Tower.” He released his mic button, waiting silently as he watched Clarence close his door and remove his helmet, scratching his head in boredom.

“Colt, this is tower, go ahead,” the reply came, the sound of the matter-of-fact voice that he did not want to hear filling his ears.

“Tower we have an anomaly out here in sector,” he paused, looking at the instrument panel and taking in the small digital map on the console. “Sector Lima Echo Five Niner Charlie; some sort of green light up-sun. Possible signal flare, copy,” he released the button again, shrugging at Clarence as he inquired what he was talking about.

“Colt, tell Big Bird-Seven that there is no known Allied presence in the sectors up-sun of you,” The radio drew static as Tower left his mic. Kevin relayed the message, getting a nod from the pilot. “Strike that Colt. Big Dog wants you to investigate the anomaly, could be a possible smoked covert op, copy.”

“Roger, on course now. What are engagement parameters and orders if we find said spooks,” He gave the pilot a thumbs-up, his index finger pointing to the anomaly as it flashed again.

“The wedding is on Colt, Smoke em if you got em,” The radio drew static for another moment. “Big Dog wants you to pick up any allied operators you find and bring them back to base. You will receive further instructions upon approach. Tower out.” The line went dead as Tower cut the connection, Kevin lifting the headset and returning it to the wall before returning to the bay and retrieving his rifle from its securing clamps on the wall.

“What’s the word,” Clarence said, Kevin having to read his lips over the sound of the chopper engines.

“Possible Black-Op gone bad up-sun,” he yelled, leaning in to make himself heard. “We are going to investigate and bring back any spooks we find.” Clarence gave him a thumbs-up and a nod, checking his rifle and placing his helmet back on his head as he settled in for another recon. Kevin did the same, leaving his chinstrap unbuckled as he opened the port bay door. They were definitely moving forward, the ground going by quickly as the chopper began its tour of the dunes. The chopper had angles down slightly, increasing its speed while staying at a steady altitude under Big Bird’s skilled hands. He had to admit, if anyone else were to fly him around, Kevin would be quite nervous. Kevin pulled his squad radio’s mic down to his lips, keying the button on his vest before signaling the pilot.

“What is it Colt,” she said over the headset with a slightly annoyed tone. He had a habit of making distracting chatter with her while she was looking out for AA batteries.

“Have I ever told you that I wouldn’t trust anyone else to fly me around,” he asked over the channel, getting a negative from her. “Well Allison, let me formally credit you with fixing my phobia of helos, and that I would be very nervous if I was assigned to another bird.” She laughed into her mic, the chopper banking starboard to dodge a high dune.

“How sweet Colt,” she said. “Maybe you can pick up the bill from the corporation for the fuel once in a while, considering these dates are on their payroll.” Kevin allowed a chuckle as he lifted a pair of binoculars to his eyes, scouting something suspicious on the horizon. It was a steely glint, the shape of a tube taking form as he focused the lenses. He could not make anything out, but marked it down as debris. “Heads up boys, ETA on the target is five.” Kevin swirled his hand in the air, fingers outstretched before pumping his fist twice. Clarence nodded, checking his rifle again before looking out of the chopper bay. “We’re making a touch and go, I'm going to drop boots five hundred out and circle before picking you up in three mikes.” Kevin cocked and locked his rifle as the chopper descended, the bay jarring as the wheels touched the sand below. “Go! Go! Go!” the call came and the duo was out of the chopper, landing on their feet and sweeping the area with raised barrels as Big Bird-Seven took off again

“Rally up!” Kevin ordered, Clarence closing on his position before they crouched to assess. “Alright, you go east three hundred yards and climb that dune,” he pointed to the sand mountain east of them. “I’ll cut north and try to make radio contact.” Clarence nodded and headed for the dune, half running with his rifle raised to fire. Kevin took a breath and headed out as well, mantling the rocks before him and sliding down the dune into a small valley. He rose to a crouch, rifle raised and finger on the trigger as he swept the area for hostile forces.

“Lone Star!” he shouted, waiting for a reply. Silence reigned as he glanced east, finding Clarence having taken position for guard. Kevin lowered his rifle, rising to his feet and turning to face Clarence. He issued hand signs, asking questions. Clarence shook his head, signaling negative for five hundred yards in all directions. Kevin swore under his breath, kicking a pebble near his boot before walking into the valley. The area was beyond barren, even the scrub brush having been swallowed by the sand. The sounds of rotor blades shattered the silence, Big Bird Seven sweeping overhead before rearing and descending beyond the dunes to the north. Kevin gave the rally signal, beginning his way toward the chopper as Clarence descended his dune.

…

‘This was a waste,’ Kevin thought as he stepped into the chopper, Clarence close behind as he slid the door shut. He banged on the side of the chopper hard, signaling everything was locked down before he took his seat. As if on cue, the Blackhawk lifted from the sand, gaining altitude before angling forward, Bagram and warm beds in its sights. For minutes, the only sound in the craft was the chop of the blades and the sound of the engines whining as the craft continued its journey. Kevin was about to remove his helmet, allow his scalp some air before a red light and a blaring alert siren blared through the craft.

“We’re being tracked!” Allison yelling into the radio as the chopper banked hard to port, Kevin sliding out of his seat and slamming hard into the door shoulder first. His head followed, hitting the glass window hard enough to crack it. His head swam as he struggled to bring himself to his hands and knees, thankful his helmet had taken the brunt of the impact before the chopper listed to starboard, tossing the soldier across the floor and casting him into Clarence, the private laying on his side and shielding himself with his hands. The two collided in a jumble of smoke canisters and ammo magazines, supplies spreading around the bay as the chopper righted itself and came to an abrupt halt, the negative G-force of the craft lowering its altitude causing the two to feel weightless for a moment before being slammed back to the floor.

“Can you please be a little careful!?” Kevin screamed into his mic before the chopper began evasive actions again. Kevin slid across the floor and running head long into the aft wall. A quick glance proved his luck was in full swing, the handle of a combat knife protruding from the steel after the blade buried itself in the steel and aluminum.

“Sorry!” Allison yelled back, banking to the right and forcing the two into the starboard door. “This bastard’s damned persistent!” The siren began again, the tone higher and the alarm chopped into second long bursts. “Fuck! Lock on! They’ve fired! Brace for impact!” Kevin grabbed Clarence’s armor strap, pulling the unconscious soldier to the wall and strapping him into a chair before taking his seat beside him. He grasped the buckles, pulling them together before he was thrown from the seat with a thunderous report. “This is Big Bird Seven! I am hit and going down in sector Bravo Echo Six Charlie Niner! Mayday! Mayday!” Kevin crashed into the cockpit, his back landing on the control panel, smashing the components as Allison struggled to control their spin as they crashed. “Hold onto something!” She yelled as a flash of white light enveloped the craft. Kevin covered his face with his arm, shielding his eyes before the light subsided. “What in God’s Green Earth…” Allison blurted as she swung her head wide. Kevin followed suit as he made for the copilot’s seat, strapping in before what he saw stuck in his brain,

The sand had changed to trees and grass, dead stalks of corn and beans littered the flattened ground outside a large field of trees with a uniform structure. The sun was blotted out by a brown and hazy sky, the smoke from several fires in the distance having drifted over their location. In the distance was a small town filled with thatched huts and wood-shingled buildings. Closer to them was a large red barn, half blown away and smoking with a small farmhouse nearby. Kevin could have sworn he was dreaming.

“Brace! Brace!” Allison ordered as the fact of the very real helicopter crash returned to Kevin’s mind, the soldier folding his arms and bracing his head against them before pressing with all his strength against the instrument panel before him. “Impact in three!” Allison notified before pulling hard on her stick, bracing as well before the craft hit the ground.

The large chopper landed hard on the tilled soil, the craft jarring and bouncing off the dirt before listing to port. Kevin let a scream of terror fill his throat before it escaped, the sound being masked by the clamor of the engines increasing in RPM and the rotors chopping the earth away, steel snapping and flying in all directions as they completed their roll. The craft rocked back and forth on its top, the rotor hub buried in the soft dirt above them as the bird continued to slowly turn clockwise, moving half an inch each second. Kevin blinked several times as he hung upside down, arms hanging by his head as his vision began to fade. He could have sworn he heard someone screaming, but he blacked out before he could hear what he or she was saying.

Author's Note

Well, here is something I concocted while zoning to A Perfect Circle a few weeks ago. Tell me what you think of it before I post the first chapter (seeing as this is a prologue and all) I’m really keen on hearing your feedback, thoughts and assumptions.

EDIT: I missed something i do regularly in my fics. Asterisks! Yes those little floating star/dot things after words. these are for explanations!

Frakking* : No not chemical fraking where they push things to the surface through rocks with Nitrogen. this is from the new version of Battlestar Galactica, where it replaced Fuck.

First contact was a bit... heated, Sir.

Smoke… Petroleum smoke and blood…

These were the first things to register in his mind as he woke from his state of unconsciousness. “Oooowww…” He moaned as he lifted a hand to his head, massaging the ache in his temples away before he ran the hand over his face. It came away wet, sticky and greasy, smelling like copper. He opened his eyes, the lids stinging as something that had dried on them separated, revealing his hand painted in crimson. “Ah!” He started, trying the throw his hand away from him and pressing back into the seat he was strapped to. He began to feel the knot of panic forming in his chest and his eyes twitched around the small room, claustrophobia settling in before his gaze fell on a woman in a pilot’s jumpsuit, her blond hair spattered and matted with blood and grease as it hung down from her head.

This was the first he noticed his position. He was inverted, hanging upside down by the harness across his chest that was secured to the padded seat behind and under/above him. He took in a calming breath, looking up/down at the floor/ceiling that was above/below him. He returned his view to the harness that formed an X over his chest, finding a circular lock with a raised plate on the front. He raised his hand hesitantly, a voice in his head telling him to strike the plate. He did so, following the voice’s urging, the buckles releasing from four slots on the short cylinder, the straps sliding away and causing him to fall from the seat. He landed on the back of his shoulders, a grunt of pain slipping from his throat as he rolled onto his back and stared up at the floor of the area. Now that he had experienced Gravity, his sense of direction came back to him, taking a moment to breathe deeply and collect himself.

“I’m in a chopper,” he mumbled to himself, looking around slowly and taking in the evidently upturned craft. He noticed a crushed instrument panel to his right, sparks popping from the wires randomly in a body sized and jagged hole. To his left was a door, bent and half shut, the opening revealing a soldier in full combat gear laying on the roof of the craft. He looked back up, finding the woman with the bloodied mane of blond hair still hanging in her seat. He noticed a slow drip of blood coming from her hair, the wound still open and flowing. He got up and worked his way around the broken cockpit, stopping before the pilot and taking her head in his hands. He gingerly manipulated her neck, searching for the wound without having to disrobe her. The wound was a nasty looking gash on the outside of her neck, muscles fibers showing through the blood that slowly seeped through. “Bleeding, that means she has a pulse,” he braced her against himself, slapping her harness to release her and catching her from the fall. “Easy now, easy,” he mumbled to himself as he laid her on the upturned roof, having brushed the debris away with his boot beforehand. He brushed her hair from her face, the pilot shifting on her own and furrowing her brow.

“Black… hawk… down…” she mumbled, repeating the words as she remained unconscious. The phrase struck him to the core, causing fear and danger to fill his mind. This was something he knew was bad without being able to place the reason why.

He looked around the cockpit quickly, finding a small black box hanging from a spiral cord. He grabbed the box, following the cord to the control panel and finding a series of switches and lights. They were on, that was good. He deftly flipped a few switches, turning on the open broadcast without understanding how he knew the process. The sound of radio static filled the area, the white noise fading in his ears quickly. He pressed the button on the side of the box in hand a few times, noticing the static ended when he did. He lifted the device to his lips, holding the button down.

“Mayday, Mayday. Blackhawk down. I repeat Blackhawk down.” He paused, his headache returning as he remembered. He was a soldier, a member of the United States Army. “Blackhawk down. We are capsized and the bird is still active.” He looked out the windows, placing a hand on the glass for support as he viewed his surroundings. “Blackhawk down in a field, some sort of farm. The ground has been tilled and there are a lot of old stalks standing around us.” He stopped again, clutching his head with his free hand as more memories filled his mind. He had been a Ranger, a member of the Army Spec-War group. He had been based in Afghanistan for the last year and a half, assaulting Taliban and Insurgent camps and convoys to aid the local military and defend the new Afghan government.

“Is anyone there?” He asked into the microphone, waiting for five minutes for a response but to no avail. “Dammit…” He swore, dropping the mic and looking around the cockpit again. He noticed a white case on the wall, a red cross on the front. He snatched the case from its clamps, laying it on the ceiling and opening the metal cover. Inside were assorted medical supplies; Bandages, coagulating agents, sutures and morphine syrettes among them. He grabbed the bandages and coagulating agent, spreading it on the pilot’s wound. The white powder turned red for a moment, the stain being covered by more powder before he pressed the bandage against the wound. He lifted her head gently, sliding a pair of straps behind her neck before setting her head back down carefully. He tied the straps to another pair, securing the bandage tight before checking himself for injuries. He quickly stripped out of his gear, placing the BPV and tactical harness aside before emptying his pockets. Once clear, he ran his hands over his legs, squeezing to make sure there wasn't any fractures. After checking the rest of his body he found he had several cuts on his arms, hands and face, but nothing serious enough to warrant medical attention.

He jerked his head to the side as the radio hissed loudly, grasping the mic again and pressing the button. “Mayday Mayday!” he yelled into the receiver, praying to anything with power that he was heard. “Blackhawk down, I repeat Blackhawk down!” He released the button, waiting for a minute before pressing it again. “Blackhawk Down! Can anyone hear me!? We’ve crash-landed in some sort of farm, and we are not in Afghanistan. There are some sort of deciduous trees and rotting corn husks littering the ground.” He dropped his gaze, the panic he had been holding back taking full hold, his breathing labored and heart pounding like a kick bass drum. “I… I can’t remember my name, and the pilot is bleeding from her neck. We’re upside down,” he sniffed the air, his panic becoming rampant as the smell of burning oil became stronger, white smoke filtering into the cabin. He pulled a knife from the pilot’s belt, slamming the tip against the glass windshield but making no progress. “I can’t get out! Please, anyone, Help Me!”

…

“Rainbow Dash! Wait!” Twilight yelled as she chased the mare through the trees of Sweet Apple Acres, trying to keep up with the much faster pegasus. “How do you know this isn’t a changeling trick?” She put on a burst of speed she didn’t know she had, breathing heavily as she caught up with Dash.

“Because those things don’t exist,” she said, causing Twilight to give her a look of confusion. “Blackhawk, Afghan-of-can, those aren’t things I’ve heard of, and I don’t think you’ve read anything about them either.” Twilight tilted her head slightly in admittance, her eyes going wide before she shifted right, dodging a tree. “They need help from the sounds of it, and even if they might be lying my oath won’t allow me to ignore them!” She spotted a break in the canopy ahead, looking at Twilight quickly. “I’m going to fly ahead; you keep going toward the fields!” She stretched her wings and flapped hard, taking flight with a mighty kick of her hooves and soaring off into the sky. Twilight kept running, minutes passing before she remembered she possessed magic.

“Why didn’t I think of this before?” she asked herself, concentrating on the spell as her horn welled with energy. She disappeared in a flash of light, a loud crack echoing through the trees as she vanished. She reappeared at the edge of the trees, the cornfields before her. She hadn’t stopped running, regretting that now as she gasped and dug her hooves into the loamy earth below her, trying to stop before she collided with the large black metal obstruction five feet ahead. She failed in her endeavor, running head first into the metal monstrosity.

...

Kevin reeled back as a loud bang echoed through the chopper, falling back with a startled yelp. He scrambled to his hands and feet, rising to a low crouch and holding the eight-inch long blade ready to defend. He looked around the cockpit, switching his view to the gap in the door. The room was empty save for the soldier’s unconscious body, but there was a light purple spike protruding from the thin sliding door on the port side. ‘Did I just fall into Halo?’ he thought as the spike slid out of the steel.

…

Twilight clutched her head, a hoof rubbing her horn as she groaned from the impact. “Ooooh… what did I hit?” she said through the headache that was beginning to form in her skull. She cracked one of her eyes open slightly, looking at the wrecked machine before her. Twilight’s eyes flew open as sparks erupted from the top of the object, scrabbling back towards the trees and hiding behind one. She peeked out from behind her cover, watching the black behemoth to see if it was still alive. She flinched as the pop of electricity repeated itself, sparks flying from an exposed tube on the metal monstrosities back, wires protruding from the black tube. “What are you?” she asked herself, her inner scholar revealing itself and urging her out of hiding. She sniffed the air, the area smelling acrid and a white cloud having begun to fill it. A white substance leaked from the object, seeping from several slots and a large cone near the ground.

Twilight edged closer, skirting the perimeter of the black mystery, passing some sort of tail. The limb had three blades in its grasp, the edges jagged and broken, black like the rest of the object, but striped with steely silver. As she rounded the object, she found more of the white substance, now apparently smoke from the fire burning in the cone, a bulbous protrusion just like on the other side. She continued her observations, heading towards the nose, finding that she could see into it. Twilight crouched down, squinting to see through the clear component, gasping and jumping back as something moved inside.

…

Kevin turned around as something moved in his peripheral vision, coming face to face with a small, lavender colored unicorn no taller than his waist. “What the…” he mumbled as it flinched and backed away. “Horses… that means people HEY!” he shouted, dropping the knife and rushing to the window, placing his hands on the Lexan plates and pounding on them with his open palms. “Hey! Help! We’re trapped in here!” he increased his slapping of the polycarbonate sheets, causing quite the clamor. “Help us! We’re trapped and this thing is about to blow!”

…

Twilight gasped as the thing that moved spoke Equestrian, looking around for something to help them with. As she looked up, she noticed Rainbow Dash diving straight toward the black object. “Rainbow Dash!” she shouted, voice magically amplified so she could hear her. “There’s somepony trapped inside that thing!” She thought she saw Dash nod, her suspicions confirmed as she twisted in mid-air, diving toward the object and landing with all fours on the same section Twilight’s horn had gouged through. The sound of screeching metal issued forth before a clamor of metal striking metal sounded from the smoking object. The thing inside turned around, fading from view as it moved away from the windows.

…

“In here!” Kevin hollered as he beat on the door with his fists, trying to get the attention of whoever was in the bay. “We’re in here!” he beat on the door again, hearing a female voice from the other side.

“Stand back!” She shouted, Kevin complying and slipping on his armor and vest, turning and hunching over the pilots still unconscious body. A loud crash echoed from behind him, something hard hitting him on the back before falling away. “Come on! This way!” the woman shouted, the sound of something soft being dragged telling him they had gotten the soldier that was in the bay. He was more than happy to comply, lifting the pilot’s torso into his arms and pulling her out of the cockpit and through the door. He looked over his left shoulder, finding the soldier already gone before looking to his right and stopping dead in his tracks. “Come on! This thing’s on fire, there’s no time!” Kevin’s jaw worked to form words in his shocked state, nothing coming forth as he stared idiotically at the cyan pegasus with a rainbow colored mane and tail that stood outside. Kevin’s mind filled with everything he had forgotten, his name, the pilot’s name, the soldier’s name, what had happened to them… everything down to the names of the ponies he had seen. “Get out of there!” Rainbow Dash yelled at him, pulling Clarence farther away from the smoking chopper. Kevin closed out the fear he was feeling, pulling Allison from the craft and over to Dash’s side. He set her down carefully, turning back to the craft and starting for it. “No!” dash yelled, intercepting him and standing in front of him. It’s on fire, you could get hurt!”

“There are things I need in that chopper and I’m going back in!” Kevin yelled back, pushing past her and diving into the craft through the now tall flames that rose from the engines. He landed on his chest, sliding across the roof of the bird and grabbing his rifle from where it lay. The rolled over, tossing the rifle through the fire and onto the dirt, turning around to grab Clarence’s M4, tossing it after the first weapon. He scooped up as much of the dropped ammo as he could, throwing the magazines out before scrambling into the cockpit. He grabbed the medical case, Allison’s knife, a few of the items he had dropped and the black box from the console, kicking out the window and tossing them a safe distance away. He was about to crawl out of the window before something rang in his head. “My knife,” he grunted, turning and crawling back into the bay, pulling the blade from the wall it had buried itself in during the crash. He sheathed the blade on his vest, turning toward the door to find the flames reaching for him. “Oh shit…” Kevin turned around; finding the opposite door glowing from the heat it was taking. “Dammit…” He turned back to the cockpit, crawling out of the window and scrambling to get to the weapons. “Help me pick these magazines up,” he shouted, grabbing the rifles and throwing them towards the tree line. He quickly grabbed twenty clips, carrying them in his arms and dumping them beside the rifles. “Dash, come on! Get those Mag…” he slapped himself mentally, of course she wouldn’t know what an ammo magazine was. “Kick as many of those black things to me as you can, hurry! The chopper’s about to blow!” Dash gave him a strange look, shaking her head quickly and knocking the magazines to him as quickly as she could. Kevin counted them as she did, waving her away from the chopper as the count reached thirty-two. Dash ran toward him, Kevin grabbing Allison and pulling her into the trees. Dash grabbed Clarence by his collar, dragging him with her teeth to the trees. Kevin threw himself over Allison, Dash following his lead with Clarence as the Blackhawk erupted violently in flame, Sheets and shards of steel and aluminum casting in all directions, scoring hits on the trees and littering the ground around them.

Kevin lifted his face from Allison’s shoulder, looking back over his shoulder as the burning chopper husk before lifting himself from the unconscious woman. He sighed in relief, glad he had gotten everything he could out before it blew. “Equipment and personnel saved, wounds treated, Chopper demoed… All in all I would call that a successful…” He was cut short as he was tackled from behind; tumbling over the ground to face his attacker before his was pinned to the ground at the hips and shoulders.

“What are you,” Rainbow Dash demanded, glaring at him with wild and dangerous eyes.

“Kevin J. Green, United States Army Ranger,” he replied, slightly dumbstruck to be pinned by the Rainbow Dash. ‘Definitely best pony,’ he thought, smiling and causing her to give him a strange look.

“What’s a Ranger?” she asked, continuing her interrogation. “We don’t have that rank in the Resistance. Are you a spy? Are you here to assassinate General Silvermane?” This caught Kevin off guard, leaving him dumbstruck.

“Resistance what?” he asked intelligently, a stupid expression stuck on his face. “Equestria doesn’t have war, when the hell did this happen?” Dash gave him a wary look, stepping back and off him to let him up. Kevin pushed himself into a sit, crossing his legs and pressing against his knees for stability.

“What do you mean ‘Equestria doesn’t have war’,” she counter questioned. “Have you been living in a cave in the desert for the last four months? We’ve been at war with the Changeling Empire since August. If you knew of Equestria, why didn’t you come to our aid when we sent that broad-spectrum radio blast four months ago?” she halted, looking to the burning Blackhawk and back to Kevin a few times. “Wait… Are you our help from your nation?” Kevin bit on his lip, already having said too much. How could he explain that their lives were just a cartoon on Earth without decimating their minds?

“I…” he started, stopping himself and choosing his words carefully. “No, we aren’t. We were on rout to a base in the desert when we hit a storm. We reached the eye, but Allison,” he patted the sleeping pilot beside him on the shoulder. “Couldn’t risk flying us out, so we rode it out until we started to run out of fuel. She took a daring chance and cut the engines. We dropped out of the eye and she turned them back on, catching our fall in time to keep us from crashing. We had no idea where we were at that point, so we headed north toward's home. We knew we had colonies along the way, but not knowing where we were we wound up here.” Dash lifted an eyebrow suspiciously, Kevin fearing she didn’t buy it and spending time in what passed as a pony prison.

“So you’re one of the snowponies,” she deduced in a question, Kevin shrugging and nodding simultaneously. Dash humphed in surprise. “I thought you polar ponies were… well ponies. I had no idea you were apes.” Kevin chuckled slightly, happy his ruse had worked.

“Hnng…” Clarence moaned, his face tensing and brow furrowing. “Is it mess time yet Sarge?” He mumbled, cupping his hands over his face. “I hope they’re serving chicken…” He fell eerily silent, Dash looking at him and shifting nervously.

“Did he just die,” she asked intelligently, staring at the human with wide eyes. Clarence bolted upright, taking fistfuls of grass in his hands and squeezing with enough force to make a fescue smoothie.

“INCOMING!” he screamed, shutting his eyes tight as his brain caught up with the crash. He clenched his body, each muscle tightening to their max before he opened his eyes and slowly took everything in. “Wh-where are we? Where’s the chopper? Why are you talking to a horse? What’s going on?” Kevin tipped his helmet to him laughing lightly.

“Welcome back Light Bulb,” He said in good humor. “You’re a little late on that incoming though. We took it hard.” Clarence ran his tongue over his teeth, looking around jerkily. “Yeah, we aren’t in Afghanistan. I’ll fill you in later.” Clarence nodded once, falling back to the ground with a thump, unconscious once more. Kevin face palmed, looking to Dash with a raised eyebrow. “Can you carry him,” he asked. “I already carried him off the field several times after he took the shockwave from explosives.” Dash nodded slightly, picking the soldier up with a mild degree of difficulty.

…

“Commander Dash, I thought I told you to get laid?” General Silvermane said as she descended the stairs to the bunker.

“Yes sir you did," she said, skirting the center of the room. “But you may want to look up every once in a while.” The general took the hint immediately, staring with hard eyes at the human that walked down the stairs after her, carrying another in his arms, her head rested against his chest and her arms wrapped around his neck loosely. Behind the human floated another, the lavender aura of Twilight Sparkle’s magic encasing him, the mare close behind.

“MPs in here now!” he shouted, pulling a pistol from his side and holding it with both hooves, one aiming and the other on the trigger. “Commander Dash, explain yourself,” he ordered loudly as Kevin drew his 1911 and took aim on the general in defense. “What have you brought here and why is that one aiming at me?”

“Self defense,” Kevin said coldly as he cocked the hammer. “My people believe in it with a passion, and I will not lower my weapon before you do.” He stared down the pony as six ponies in heavy plate metal armor and shotguns stormed in, taking aim on the group. Twilight’s eyes went wide as the guns pointed at her, backing up the stairs and out of sight slowly.

“I am sorry to say but should you fire you will not make it out of here alive,” Silvermane said, smirking with pride. Kevin chuckled lightly, kneeling and setting Allison on the stone floor gently before rising and drawing his SCAR-L, holding the weapons Akimbo. “You are armed to the ears, aren’t you?”

“More than you know,” he said, twitching the rifle toward an MP that moved, aiming at the pony through his peripheral. “Now, how about we all put the guns down and talk this out like civilized beings, huh? No harm in it, and no one gets a belly full of lead,” The MP Twitched again, Kevin turning his head to the pony and giving him his angriest face. “But if you fidget again I swear I'm going to pull this trigger without thinking.” The pony dropped his gun, backing away slowly. “Better.”

“Alright, on three, we all lower our weapons. Is that good?” Kevin nodded. “One,” An MP glanced at the General, returning his gaze back to Kevin. “Two,” Silvermane locked eyes with Kevin, sizing up his morals in a heartbeat. “Three,” Kevin holstered his sidearm, slinging his rifle over his shoulder as the MPs lowered their shotguns and Silvermane returned his weapon to his side. The general sighed, taking into account the beings that Dash had led into the bunker. “Why did you bring them here Commander?” He asked.

“They have wounded and are far from their homeland,” she said in a stoic expression, glancing to the stairs as Twilight came back into view. “They aren’t Changelings, if that’s what you are worried about Sir.”

“How do you think?”

“Until today, I’ve never seen anything like them,” she said. “They crashed in Sweet Apple Acres in a flying machine.” Silvermane looked at the trio of humans, one unconscious, one passed out and snoring lightly, and another that had threatened to shoot him moments before. He growled in frustration, throwing up a hoof and walking away from the table.

“Get the wounded to medical four,” he said. Dash nodded, twitching her head towards a curtained doorframe. Kevin picked up Allison, wrapping her arms around his neck for security again before following her, Twilight and Clarence in tow. “And Commander.” Dash stopped, turning to face the General. He pointed at her with his hoof, eyes narrowed slightly. “This is your mess. You will be keeping an eye on them, and until they are out of my hair and on their way home you are to abstain from combat.” Dash nodded, saluting the general before he disappeared from view.

…

Kevin laid Allison on the cot, Dash having put two of them together to accommodate her height. He knelt beside the bed, moving strands of hair from her face gingerly. “Can you get me a bucket of warm water and a towel?” he asked quietly, the room filled with recovering patients, many of whom were asleep.

“Yeah,” she said, her normal level of volume matching his moderately quiet one. “It shouldn’t take long, but umm… Where do you want that one?” She pointed to Clarence’s floating form, still enveloped in magic. Twilight was becoming exhausted from the exertion; sweat coating her fur and matting her forelock to her face.

“Lean him against the wall,” Kevin said with a wave of his hand. “He’s slept through worse than a helo crash.” Dash motioned toward the wall opposite them, Twilight floating him over to the concrete surfaces and setting him down. She huffed as she released his weight, covering her mouth as several Triage Surgeons glared at her. She smiled sheepishly, ducking her head and laughing nervously before leaving the room.

Dash waved to a nurse, the mare walking over and listening to her whispered request. The nurse looked from Kevin to Allison warily, but nodded, hurrying off to the back of the room. “Thank you,” Kevin said, leaning back on his heels. “For getting us out of there. And for being crazy enough to help me get the equipment.” Dash waved a hoof, smiling slightly.

“It was nothing,” she said humbly. “I took an oath, and it didn’t matter if you were changelings in disguise, I couldn’t chance that you weren’t and cause the deaths of three ponies…”

“Humans,” Kevin interrupted. Dash held her stance for a moment, smirking and nodding once. They made idle chat until the nurse returned with a pail of water in her teeth and a stack of small towels on her back. Kevin stood up, the Nurse gasping and whispering an Oh My as he rose to his full six feet and seven inches. Kevin thanked her, taking the pail and towels from her and placing them against the wall next to Allison’s cot. He dipped his hand in the water, pulling it out and rubbing his fingers together. It wasn’t hot, but it was warm. He unfolded a towel and dunked it in the water, wringing the excess water from the cloth before folding it again. He set out cleaning the blood from Allison’s face, using the corner to get the caked areas and simply letting the towel absorb what was still tacky.

Dash lay on the cot behind Kevin, watching him take care of his wounded friend. He had returned the towel to the pail for the second time when she spoke up. “Are you two courting,” she asked, Kevin nearly falling over the woman before him and dropping the towel on the floor with a wet plop.

“Pwuh,” he managed to form intelligently, blushing like a drunk on a four-day bender. “No, we aren’t,” he defended, wetting another towel and setting back upon his task.

“I just thought you were because of how you’re treating her,” she said, her head cocked to the side slightly. “You didn’t treat the other one with the same attention you’re giving her, so I assumed…” she let her sentence trail off, glancing at Clarence to find him still asleep.

“That’s because he woke up already,” Kevin explained, using a dry towel to wipe the water from Allison’s face. He finished his project; her face, neck and hair clean of the gore that had coated them prior. “She still hasn’t woken up since the crash, and I’m worried my pilot is out of commission.” He stood up and sighed, leaning against the wall and kick standing his left foot behind the right one. “So what’s the story here? Last I heard, you ponies were under the rule of two immortals. What happened?” Dash held up a hoof, loath to relive the experiences.

“It’s a long story,” she said, Kevin gesturing to the room around them.

“We’ve got time,” he said. “I’m stuck here until she recovers and we can get an aircraft worth two sticks. If you want we can go find a place to sit and talk.” Dash thought about the idea for a few minutes, shrugging and rising from her position. Kevin walked across the room, kicking Clarence’s boot and rousing him from his nap. “Wake up buttercup,” he said, tapping him on the helmet with the but of the M4. “We got things to do.” Clarence looked up at him, squinting into the fluorescent lights to make out Kevin’s face.

“Dude, I just got bounced around a Blackhawk, crash landed in a world of talking mythological animals, and almost got roasted by the chopper.” Kevin smirked, hitting him upside the head with his hand and wrapping the other around the soldiers shoulder. He pulled him to his feet, thrusting the rifle into his hands.

“That’s an order Private,” Kevin stated, using his rank before turning and walking after Dash. Clarence ran a hand over his face, tipping his helmet back some and following the pair.

…

Kevin walked into the bedroom of Twilight Sparkle, the mare being out in town. It was also the only room without an obvious window they could be spied upon from. Kevin felt it was more for Dash’s protection than theirs, her having more to lose from an assassin than they did. “So this is…” Kevin began, cutting himself short before Dash caught his lapse in control over his brain and tongue. He took off his helmet, his short cropped brown hair having been shaved into a Mahican style Mohawk, setting the helmet on a bedpost before surveying the room. He walked over to a shelf, picking up a framed photograph of Twilight, Shining Armor and their parents. It was old, the yellowing telling him that beside the fact the Twilight was still a filly.

“It’s a sad thing,” Dash said from behind him, lowering her hood. Kevin looked back to her, raising the picture slightly. Dash nodded. “During her brother’s wedding, his bride had been impersonated by the Changeling Queen. After the vows were struck, not even Celestia and Luna could stop her. She went on a rampage through Canterlot, killing as the feeling took her. Twilight's parents tried to stand up to her, but she struck them down, then Shining Armor when he tried to fight back.” She fell silent, shaking her head. “Twilight was to depressed after that to fight… With one of the Element’s out of commission, we were powerless to stop her.” Kevin sighed, looking the picture over and being reminded f his own family. They had been killed in a terrorist attack when he was six.

“You sure are a different world than were I’m from,” he said, placing the picture back on the shelf. “If that had happened on human soil, we would have fought her to the last breath. And failing that we would have nuked her into vapor.”

“Nuke,” dash questioned. Kevin raised a hand, explaining his unwillingness to talk on the subject. It wasn’t that he minded, but he didn’t know enough to explain anything. The door closing drew their attention, Clarence having shut the door and taken off his helmet. His short red hair was about the only color to him, his eyes being pale gray and blending with his alabaster colored skin.

“Now that we are all present, how about that story?” Kevin asked. Dash nodded, gesturing to the bed and for the two to sit.

…

“Twilight had been right, of course,” Dash said, well into her explanation. “But we were all to caught in the moment to see it. We had never known Cadence before that day, so we had no preconceived notions to build a comparison on. We all thought she was just over reacting to her brother getting married, but hindsight is always beyond perfect. I mean, even the Pinkie Sense hadn’t gone off, how else were we supposed to know something was up? Princess Celestia read the vows, and both of them accepted. We all were cheering and crying and hugging and all the things that were supposed to happen, until we noticed Cadence was gone. She had disappeared, and standing next to Shining Armor was this big bug thing. She introduced herself as Queen Chrysalis, our new overlord. Celestia tried to stand up to her, but she was just pushed aside like a fly. Luna tried too, but she was thrown out of a window and over the edge of the cliff,” she paused, a depressed look on her face. “I don’t know if we can win, The Resistance is outnumbered heavily, and every day I see our methods becoming more like the Changelings every day. If we do kill that… that bitch… I don’t know if we would have won, or if that was just her plan all along; to get us to hate each other.”

Kevin leaned back against the wall near the window over Twilight’s bed, a sucker stick in his mouth as he chewed on the rolled paper. After nearly ten years of the show being on television, going through several seasons and character lineups, nothing was like the real deal. The happy, carefree lives of the ponies on the show were nothing like what he was seeing now, the reality as hard and bitter as his own world. ‘Either that or I’m in a hospital bed in Bagram Medical and experiencing some drug induced dream…” He withheld a smirk, turning his head to the right as Clarence, hidden on the opposite side of the window, began to speak.

“This all sounds like something out of a,” Kevin’s eyes went wide, his mouth shooting off the instant he understood where the private was going.

“Horror novel, yeah,” he said inconspicuously, forcing his voice to keep a normal volume. “Hey, could I take my friend somewhere so we can have a private discussion? We might be able to come up with a way to talk our superiors into helping you.” Dash nodded, waving to the door with a hoof.

“Just don’t leave the library,” she said as they scooted across the bed. “We don’t need mass panic to draw the Changelings here.” Kevin nodded, picking up his helmet and pushing Clarence inconspicuously. He closed the door behind them, leading him down the stairs and toward the kitchen, removing his hand from Clarence’s back after they entered the room and continuing to the counter, sitting on the wooden surface.

“What was that about Colt,” Clarence asked.

“What were you about to say before I pushed you out of that room?” Kevin counter questioned. Clarence shrugged.

“Something about this sounding like a childs TV show gone wrong, why?” Kevin pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing.

“You know about My Little Pony, right,” He asked, Clarence nodding. “Well, you’re in it.” The private gave him a confused face, followed quickly by one of disbelief.

“No way man,” he said. “That show’s all about flowers and sunshine. Ain’t no way this is would happen in a little girl’s TV show.” Kevin shrugged this time, taking his turn.

“Well it did,” Clarence silently inquired why he thought this. “That pony’s name is from the third generation of the show. Doesn’t that seem a little too coincidental?” Clarence rubbed the back of his neck, grimacing at the odds.

“It would make more sense than us being dropped into a cartoon, man,” he said, dropping his hand and leaning against the wall. “I will admit that this is something out of bad television, but you can’t be serious.” Kevin looked to the refrigerator, the short, wide machine humming as it worked.

“I don’t know if this is some kind of Twilight Zone shit,” he said, reading the notes attached to the fridge. “But we shouldn’t mention our TV programs to them, just in case. How would you react to finding your life was something to entertain the world, A complete fake drawn up by idiots behind a desk.”

“I would probably deny it until I was given hard evidence,” Clarence retorted.

“And after that,” Kevin questioned further, Clarence furrowing his brow in thought.

“I,” he began, falling silent for a moment as realization struck him. “Would shut down, possibly fall into a depression and on the extreme end I would commit…”

“Suicide,” Kevin finished with a nod. “This is the last thing we need. We don’t want to be the cause of some sort of mass panic by speaking without thinking.” He stood from his place on the counter, walking toward the doorway and checking to be sure that no ponies had walked in. He turned back around, pointing a finger at Clarence. “You remember the excuse I made to get us out of that room, right?” Clarence nodded.

“To talk about how we could get our superiors to help them,” he repeated.

“Good,” Kevin said. “Our cover is that the training exercise went wrong. Now we are trying to get back, correct?” Clarence nodded. “And we’re in Christ knows where in relation to Afghanistan, so I say we do what Rangers do best.” Clarence raised an eyebrow. “Lead the way of course.”

Author's Note

Alright, chapter two is up. Gimme the reviews and thoughts, also like it or hate it. Any publicity is good publicity in my opinion.

Heated? How heated did it get soldier?

“I’m afraid I have bad news,” the doctor said, his white lab coat hanging near his knees and a pen attached to his collar. He levitated a piece of paper before him, a white aura surrounding the clipboard it was upon. “Your Friend, she… how do I break this to you easily?” Kevin crossed his arms, ready for the worst.

“It’s alright doc,” he said, looking to Clarence from his seat across from him in the war room. “We can handle it, we’ve lost people before.” The pony looked hesitant, but nodded and continued.

“She fell into a coma last night,” he said, his face falling slightly as Kevin and Clarence swore heavily under their breath. “I’m sorry. There was nothing we could do. We don’t understand coma like we wished we could, but we have put her on life support. I am suspecting you live an omnivorous diet. Am I correct?” Kevin nodded slightly, running a hand over his cropped Mohawk. “Then I can start her on a higher protein Intravenous drip. I will need your help finding a vein to circulate the nutrients however.” Clarence nodded once, standing from his seat on the bench.

“I can help with that,” he said, placing a reassuring hand on Kevin’s shoulder and patting it comfortingly. “I was training for medic position before I dropped out for combat. I know enough to get the job done.” The doctor nodded and turned to leave, Clarence opening a pocket with the sound of ripping Velcro. “Here,” he said, drawing Kevin’s attention from the floor. He held three magazines of 5.56 NATO rounds before the comrade, waving them lightly. “Go blow some off some steam.” Kevin nodded, taking the magazines as he stood and clasped hands with the private.

“Look after her,” Kevin said quietly, hugging his teammate quickly. “Keep her alive.” Clarence nodded, releasing him and nodding to the doctor before following him out of the war room. Kevin sighed, sliding the magazines into a few empty pockets on his vest and placing his hands on his face as hoof steps echoed from behind him. “Yes Dash?” He asked.

“Ok first, how did you know it was me,” she asked. Kevin let his hands fall to his sides before turning around to face her.

“Your third step drags on the pick up.” He stated plainly, Dash lifting her right rear leg and looking at her hoof. He was right; there were scuff marks on the edge of the hoof.

“Alright, that answers that.” She said. “Second, I’m sorry you have to go through this and that it happened to you.” Kevin nodded, rubbing his forehead.

“Thanks, but I would rather not talk about it,” he said, picking his rifle up from its position against the wall. “Have anywhere I could pop a few,” he asked, lifting the rifle slightly as it nestled comfortably in the crook of his shoulder. Dash tapped a hoof to her chin, looking the human over before nodding.

“Yeah, we have a firing range in the bunker,” she said, pointing across the war room to a riveted steel door with a thick glass panel in the center. “We have a gunsmith there that can replenish any ammo you’ve used.” Kevin motioned his head toward the door.

“Well then,” he said, waving with an outstretched arm. “Shall we?” Dash smirked and shook her head, sighing as she led him across the room.

…

The pop of gunfire echoed around the room as Kevin surveyed the wall of weapons the ponies had developed. He kept pulling rifles and pistols from their hangers, inspecting their properties with a practiced eye and only finding them slightly difficult to work. “I guess it’s because I have hands,” he mumbled to himself as he pulled a rifle with a revolver’s chamber from the wall, laying the fore grip over his arm and nesting his wrist into a crescent shaped brace. He wrapped his hand around the handle, his fingers playing over the pressure plate it used for a trigger. He opened the chamber, tilting it out and rotating the cylinder to make sure it was unloaded. He slapped it back into place, cocking the hammer and pressing the plate. The hammer clicked dry as he pulled the trigger, repeating itself five times, as he tested the double action springs.

“You like that one,” Dash asked, lifting one of her earmuffs away from her ear. “It’s the newest model. It fires a 12.7 by 57 millimeter cartridge that we developed to crack Changeling exoskeletons.” Kevin looked the rifle over, finding a set of wing nuts on the side that held the brace in position. “I’ve used it and I have to admit it works really… What are you doing?” Kevin flicked one of the securing nuts, the item spinning on the bolt before falling onto his hand.

“Customizing,” he said curtly as he slid the bolt from the hole and pulled the brace off. He set the parts on a shelf, holding the rifle more naturally. “That is twenty times better,” he said, silently slapping himself for using a reference she might catch. “So where do I load this thing at?” he asked, Dash flipping the lid off a steel box to reveal rounds in loading spool. “Nicely done,” he said, lifting a spool from the container and flipping the cylinder open. He pressed the round into their slots, fitting snugly before he tore the wax spool away cleanly. Dash slid a stack of targets to him, the black outline representing a changeling drone. Kevin looked at the stack, lifting one and examining the kill areas. He smirked and motioned with the rifle toward the firing area, Dash letting him go first with a bow and motion of her hoof.

Kevin walked past her, holding the targets in one hand while he wedged the butt of the rifle against his hip, walking past several occupied booths toward the far side of the range. He checked the booth, smiling as he found no one inside before setting the rifle and targets on the counter beside the firing window. He looked up to find a rope and pulley system, a set of clamps threaded through the ropes for a target to hang on. Kevin set a target on the clamps, spooling it out to a thousand yards before lifting the rifle from the counter.

“Are you sure you can hit that from that distance?” Dash yelled over the gunfire and earmuffs. Kevin looked back, nodding once and giving her an expression that said ‘Maybe.’ He lifted the rifle, taking a stable stance for the kick he expected from the large caliber round. He sighted up the range, lifting a distance gauge and adjusting the crosshairs to compensate distance. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before squeezing the trigger.

The rifle jumped in his hands, kicking up three feet and scraping the ceiling before Kevin could rein it back in. “Damn!” he shouted, rubbing his shoulder from the impact of the kick. He hadn’t expected it, but the thing had the punch of a golden gloves boxer. “Last time I shot a fifty it was mounted,” he said humorously, rotating his shoulder before aiming again. Again, he fired and again the rifle slammed into his shoulder, but this time he expected the lift and was able to control it. He sighed and shook his head, laying the rifle down on the counter and massaging his shoulder.

“What’s wrong,” Dash asked, smiling smugly. “Too powerful for ya?” Kevin shrugged with his left shoulder, chuckling lightly.

“Like I said, the last time I fired a fifty it was mounted on turret,” Dash nodded in understanding.

“I hear ya,” she said. “When we were issued those they had us spend weeks firing them here to get used to the kick. The thing hits harder than Applejack.” She smirked sheepishly. “I should know, heh…” Kevin laughed lightly before he swung his SCAR around, fluidly fitting a magazine into the breach and cocking the action. He flicked the safety to full auto, holding it at arm’s length to the mare. “What? You want me to shoot your gun now?” Kevin nodded, Dash taking the weapon. Kevin lifted a string from the wall, tying it around the trigger and her hoof so she could pull the trigger. Dash reared up, crooking her hoof around the vertical grip on the front rails and seating the butt stock against her shoulder. She pulled the string, the rifle firing of seventeen rounds before she let go and beamed with glee. “Sweet Celestia,” she shouted, lowering the weapon and smiling wide at him. “This is at least 20% cooler than anything we have! How did you get this thing to fire like that?” Kevin laughed, untying the string and taking the weapon much to Dash’s dislike.

“That would be Intel we are not allowed to share at this time,” he said slyly, winking and shouldering the rifle before firing off the rest of the magazine in three and four round bursts. He straightened back up, lowering the smoking barrel and ejecting the magazine before opening the chamber to allow it to cool faster. “But it is pretty cool huh?” he pulled the rope, drawing the target that now resembled Swiss cheese. Dash’s eyes went wide as she beheld the shredded target, Kevin tearing the inch long strips that hung from the top border off and laying them on the counter in a pile.

He finished his work cleaning his mess, under Dash’s instruction dumping the shreds of the target into a furnace slot in the room before they retreated into a soundproofed room. The area was filled with brass punching machines, black powder drips and a lead casting station. All in all one could suffice to say the room reeked of sulfur and hot metal. “And what could I do fer ya t’day lass” an earth pony with a forest green coat and a brown mane and tail said from behind a work bench as he fit lead bullets into filled brass casings. “Have ya depleted our stock ‘nough fer one day?” he asked in an accent akin to that of the Irish. Dash shrugged and whistled, drawing the stallion’s attention from his work and to the human standing beside her with an alien looking weapon in his hands. “Ah, our rumored vis’tor has decided to test his aim. What can I do fer ya laddie?” Kevin ejected the round in the chamber of his rifle with a pull of the action, catching the round with practiced ease.

“He needs some ammunition to be replaced,” she said, Kevin looking at her slightly annoyed.

“Yes. It is 5.56 by 45 millimeter, 62-grain and has a copper core with a 19-grain Stacked Steel cone.” The pony’s ears perked at the mention of the specification, trotting up and looking the round over with a critical eye.

“You mean it dunnae have any lead,” the pony asked, receiving a nod before smiling like a child with a new toy. “So ye say it replaces Lead with Copper and Steel, eh?” He looked the round over again, taking it in his teeth and trotting back to his workstation before placing it in a machine. “Well I will have ta see if I can get me hooves on the metals, but if I can…” He made a few exclamations of joy and epiphany. “I could make every round we use like this. I migh’ be able ta turn the tide without havin’ ta make the round so damned large.” He turned the crank clockwise, pulling the bullet from the casing. “How many of these beauties did ya say ya needed?”

“Thirty and one to replace that one,” he said, pausing. “And two of the large rounds for one of your rifles I tested.” The pony chuckled, pouring the powder from the casing and sniffing it.

“This ain’t the usual powder,” he mumbled. “What is this?”

“Cordite, we call it. We added magnesium to the mixture to reduce the waste and wear on the weapon while making the powder flash faster and have more thump.” The pony nodded, checking his chemicals and pulling out a small glass jar.

“Ya mean this stuff?” he asked, spooning some out into a dish. The silvery powder shimmered as it cascaded to the ceramic dish, reflecting the light like diamonds. He put the spoon down and touched a propane flame to it, the powder flashing away in a split second. “Whoo! Why have I never thought o' this?” He exclaimed. Kevin smirked at the pony’s enthusiasm. “Now ye said somethin' about larger rounds?” Kevin nodded, rubbing his shoulder again.

“Yeah, I tested the rifle with the revolver chamber.” The pony chuckled slightly as Kevin massaged his shoulder.

“So ye tried Green Ash’s ol’ mule ya did,” he laughed, punching the human with a hoof. “How’d ya like the kick?” Kevin grimaced, remaining silent for fear of offending the pony. “No need ta hold back lad, I’ve had complaints from each o’ the regulars that use the damned thing.” He made a face, using a mock voice of Dash. “I can’t kill the things because my shoulder keeps betting broken.” Dash glowered at him, switching her glare to Kevin when he laughed. “I swear ya cannae please these damned ponies. They want a stronger bullet and ya give it to em and all they do is whine about the fact that it’s too big!” Dash flushed as her temper rose. “But enough o' that. With this I could fix all their complaints,” Kevin shrugged as Dash punched him, laughing further.

“Just make sure to get my order done,” he said. “Your reward is notoriety.” Ash nodded.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, beginning on finding the combination of chemicals to make the Cordite. Kevin chuckled as Dash glowered at him, shaking her head angrily as she led the way out of the range. Dash opened the door for him, Kevin ducking out of the room before the sound of Claxon alarms overpowered the gunfire, red emergency lights rotating on the ceiling.

“Action Stations! Changeling drones are assaulting the town; I repeat Changelings are assaulting the town. Action Stations, Action stations!” Kevin looked up at the light, his mind fading as his training began to take hold. He looked around, the ponies running from the room seeming to be moving in slow motions as his Adrenal response kicked into overdrive. He could feel the change it pushed upon him; his pupils dilating, his muscles tensing, his gut roiling, the smells intensifying and the sounds becoming louder and clearer. Dash tugged on his sleeve, drawing his attention.

“Come on!” she shouted over the alarms, pulling his arm with a hoof. “We need to help!” Kevin nodded, jogging out of the room and into the war room. His mind factored things he had been trained to remember; Ammo count, grenades, explosives and surface physical condition.

“What do we have you louts?” General Silvermane questioned as he donned a set of armor and retrieved weapons and ammo from a closet near the table.

“Teams of two are pulling residents from their houses Sir,” a unicorn operating a radio called. “They are searching homes for us. It’s only a matter of time before they reach the library.” Silvermane nodded, checking if his weapons were loaded and his sword was sharp and slid easily from its scabbard.

“They’ve reached the first block and found our advanced outpost in the town,” another pony called. “Second line radio warning is blaring like a siren. The enemy had Fireball and Good Steward in custody and…” the pony fell silent, taking off his headset and staring at the radio with wide eyes. “They’ve executed Fireball and Good Steward…” Silvermane and the room became still for a moment, falling silent for the loss of their comrade. The general slammed a hoof on the war table, raising his head to look around the room.

“You know the protocol,” he said in a commanding tone. “Those ponies are now on a shoot on sight list. Don’t freeze up.” The room saluted him, continuing their way to their designated locations. “You,” he said to Kevin, pointing his hoof with authority. “Can you help?” Kevin slapped his rifle, releasing the action and loading a round into the chamber.

“Hua,” he said, using Army jargon. “Just send me out.” Silvermane nodded, nodding once to Dash and receiving a quick salute from her. She waved Kevin on, running toward Medical. Kevin followed her, running through the medical wing and grabbing Clarence by his vest. The soldier corrected his helmet, pushing it back to where it was supposed to be and catching the rifle a doctor threw to him. He fumbled with the firearm awkwardly, trying to get his hands to situate on the alien weapon comfortably and securely. Kevin took the rifle from him, pulling the wing nut and stripping the threads, allowing the brace and securing bolt to fall away before he handed it back to him. “You’re the marksman now,” he said, Clarence nodded as a pony hoofed him a bandolier of six round loading presses. “Select your targets carefully, and remember that rifle is a Fifty.” Clarence nodded with wide eyes, never having fired a fifty caliber round from the shoulder.

They followed the ponies through a tunnel, running with them if slightly stooped to compensate for their height. Ahead they could see light, the sound of gunfire reaching them before the exited the tunnel. As they did Kevin ducked and reeled back and to the left, rolling in the air as a bullet zipped by his ear, the heat from the round causing his flesh to feel like it was on fire for a moment. He stood, shouldering his SCAR-L and switching the safety to a two round burst. He squeezed the trigger, repeatedly scoring hits on the bug-like ponies, violet blood like a grasshopper spraying from the holes that now adorned their torsos and heads.

“Fire on those Bugs,” Dash ordered from her perch in the air, a lever action rifle aimed down range and firing on the enemies as they exited the houses on the eastern edge of Ponyville. “Amber Fields and Tolling Bell, circle around the trees and hit em from the side! Golden Ring and Just Hammer grab three others and get into those streets!” Kevin spotted a large rock in the open, squeezing his trigger one last time and sprinting for cover. He jumped behind the rock, sliding across the grass and slamming into the granite boulder with his shoulder. He ejected the spent magazine from his rifle, stowing it in a thigh pocket before slamming another home and releasing the action. He popped up from cover, taking aim and felling three more Changelings before they fired on his position, ducking behind the rock again as rounds plinked off the stone, casting shards of igneous rock around as the lead buried itself in the hard stone. Clarence had turned the other way, Kevin noticed, having climbed a tree and taken position on a thick branch. He was now firing the large caliber rifle into the changelings as they ran between the buildings, pouring from the alleys and into the open field they were in. Kevin waited for a lull in the fire before he popped back from cover, switching his rifle to full auto and unleashing burst after burst of fire into the swarm.

“Dash!” he yelled, ducking to reload again. “Get out of the open! You’re a sitting duck out there!” She dove for the rock as the changelings began to fire on her previous position, landing beside him and rearing up to fire ten shots into the swarm before ducking to reload her rifle from a stripper clip. Three days in this place and I’m back to fighting for my life,” He growled before standing and unleashing a barrage of steel and copper into the encroaching swarm. “Where the hell did these things come from?” he shouted, ducking down again and reloading once more.

“We stopped wondering how they mass so fast a long time ago,” she shouted back, rising from cover and firing on the enemy. “Boom, headshot!” she cheered, pumping a hoof in victory before her eyes went wide and she reeled back, falling to the ground as bullets whizzed past her, one glancing off her chest armor. Kevin peeked around the rock from the side, pulling the pin on a High Explosive grenade and throwing it into the middle of the changelings. He grasped Dash by her armor, pulling her closer to the boulder as the explosive detonated.

The ponies yelled in surprise and fear as the grenade detonated, changelings flying in all directions in various configurations of mangles limbs and body parts. Kevin’s breathing hitched as one of the bugs landed before him, crawling toward him and Dash with his separated upper half, violet gore trailing the drone as it did. Kevin drew his knife, plunging the steel into the bugs head with a backhand swing before shaking the gore from it and returning it to its sheath. “What in Tartarus was that?” Dash asked as Kevin slapped his rifle and ducked from cover, firing on the remaining enemies before standing and calling an all clear.

“Mark Three Concussion Hand grenades,” he said as he checked his magazine and grenade count. “Explosive lethality distance of two meters, and apparently vicious against these things,” he kicked the dead half-body before him lightly, holding up his rifle to signal Clarence to come to him. He lowered the weapon, preparing to turn around before he fell to the ground, a gunshot echoing a second after he fell.

“Medic, Pony Down!” Dash screamed. “Covering fire,” Dash and the rest of the ponies began firing toward the town, shooting out windows and focusing on the towers. She ducked when her rifle was empty, dropping the weapon and turning Kevin over onto his back. He groaned as she did, arching his back and reaching behind himself to pull a wad of lead from his vest.

“Damn,” he exclaimed through clenched teeth, growling and tossing the once pristine 14mm bullet away. “I’m lucky it was from so far away,” he said, sitting up and leaning back against the rock. “My vest isn’t rated for anything over a thirty cal.” He looked up as Clarence ran up to them; crouching and scanning any possible nests the round could have come from.

“You alright Colt,” he asked, looking away from his iron sights for a second to do a visual checkup of Kevin. “Any bleeding?” Kevin shifted his weight to his right side, releasing the pressure on his sore ribs.

“Broken rib maybe,” he replied, opening his vest and BPV and taking them off. He did a quick inspection of the woven Carbon Nano-tube fabric, running his hand over the dented reactive surface to release the tension on the composites and return them to their flexible state.

“Whoa,” Dash muttered as Kevin opened the back of the article and removed a plate of what looked like metal, shaking the plate to turn it gelatinous. He slipped the pack of gel to the vest, donning the gear again and closing it back around his torso.

“Snipers miles off,” Kevin yelled past the pain in his side. “Don’t bother trying to find him, just be careful!” a few ponies nodded, others giving him a quick and lazy salute. Dash stood stunned at Kevin’s durability for a moment longer, shaking her head to clear her thoughts before turning to face the ponies.

“Alright, move up! Hammer and Ring could probably use some backup in those streets!” The ponies shouted various battle cries, slinging their rifles across their backs and galloping toward Ponyville. Dash and Clarence pulled Kevin to his feet, helping him balance before he shrugged them off and drew his 1911.

“Take my SCAR,” Kevin said, shrugging the rifle’s strap off his shoulder and letting Clarence take it from him. “I can’t fire effectively with broken ribs, too much kick on my chest.” Clarence nodded and took a few magazines from Kevin’s tactical vest, sliding them into place on his own before Kevin ordered him to follow the rest of the fighters.

…

The door to Sugar Cube Corner caved in from the top, falling flat on the floor as Kevin ducked with his weapon raised, quickly scanning the room in a strafing motion. “Ground floor clear!” he called out behind himself, watching the stairs and kitchen door as four ponies filled into the room with Bayonets attached. Two of the ponies hurried to the counter, mantling the barrier and taking up position near the door. “On three,” he shouted. “One… Two…” a crash upstairs caught their attention, Kevin turning his rifle to the stairs. “On three breach and ascend,” he called again, nearing the stairs. “One… Two… Three!” The kitchen door was broken down as Kevin led the storm up the stairs and to the second room. “You, left door. You, right door.” He ordered, the ponies under his charge taking their positions. “Breach!” he shouted, kicking the door open as the ponies broke into the rooms. Kevin took aim on a pony shaped outline before him, a knife held between her hooves and straight hair coated in purple gore.

“Break into my room and kill Gummy will you,” The pink pony shouted, stabbing the changeling corpse again and spreading more gore over the floorboards, tears streaming down her face as Kevin let the door hang open. “Threaten the twins… You damn bugs!” She stabbed the corpse again, its eyes and jaws widening as the pressure on its body increased.

“Miss Pie,” Kevin called, scanning the room with his sidearm before ducking the knife that had been in her hooves a moment before.

“No! You can’t have them!” she screamed at him, the two ponies that had breached the other rooms charging in and holding their bayonets ready to defend.

“Pinkie!” Kevin yelled back in a commanding voice, the mare shrinking back at his elevated volume. Kevin sighed as she fell to her rump, sitting and sobbing in the violet gore. He changed his tone, holstering his pistol and walking up to her and hugging her comfortingly. “Hey, hey… it’s going to be alright…” He waved the two off, the ponies saluting and taking up position outside the room. “Come on,” Kevin coaxed, pulling her to her hooves gently to have her fall back with a plop in the blood. “Come on now. Let’s get you out of this stuff and get you cleaned up.” He pulled her out of the blood pool, crouching and lifting her off her hooves and into his arms. He looked down at her, finding her in catatonics, her breathing ragged and tears streaming down her cheeks. He shushed her softly, carrying her out of the room and leaning to one of the ponies outside the door. “Go run a warm tub of water,” he ordered quietly. “She’s moving into shock from the event in there.” The pony nodded, hurrying to the room to the right, the sound of running water reaching him as he held the mare close, keeping her warm with his body heat. The pony returned moments later, holding the door open for Kevin. He nodded his thanks, ducking to get through the pony-sized door. He knelt beside the tub, dipping his hand in the water to check the heat before easing Pinkie into it. She panicked, eyes wide and flailing her hooves in an attempt to escape her supposed captor. “Calm down, calm down…” He repeated softly, the mantra taking effect as she began to relax slightly, her resistance ebbing to no existence once he had let her go. Kevin picked up a cloth from the side of the tub, wetting the rag before wiping some of the gore from her mane. He continued to shush her quietly, keeping her calm.

“Kevin,” A pony said brusquely as he barged into the room, Pinkie flinching and cowering against the wall before Kevin glanced back over his shoulder. “Sorry to interrupt but Commander Dash requests your presence at Rarity’s boutique. She says it’s of the utmost importance.” Kevin sighed, looking back at Pinkie to find her looking terrified at the room. He laid a hand on Pinkies withers, stroking her coat softly in a calming manner. She shook, spraying water over him and causing him to fail at stifling a laugh. As he giggled and snorted Pinkie seemed to perk up, her mane and tail puffing out to its usual rat’s nest of curls as a smile tore its way across her lips.

“Hi!” she shouted, waving a hoof at the gathered beings. “Oh my…” she said in a Fluttershy-esque manner as she saw the purple blood that coated her tail still. “Um… What happened?” Kevin sighed again, still giggling as he settled in for an explanation of current events.

…

“Close it in,” Dash ordered as she held her rifle in her hooves, the bayonet attached to the barrel poised to kill. “Don’t let it escape! I know these things can talk and I want to hear this one sing me an opera!” Twenty ponies in heavy armor rushed to action, blocking a Changeling drone into the corner of Rarity’s basement, the insectile creature hissing and snarling at its obstructers. “Hold the line,” Dash called, moving forward with her charges to immobilize the drone, several pegasi coming up to block any chance of an aerial escape.

“What do you want Dash,” someone called from the stairs, causing the ponies to lose their focus. The Changeling caught their lapse, taking its opportunity to charge their line, bowling through several pegasi and cold cocking an earth pony as it used the armored pony’s flat-topped helmet as a step stool. The changeling spotted something in the doorway, slightly hunched as it entered the room and stood to full height, its head nearly brushing the ceiling. “Holy…” the evident Male voice said, raising his rifle to bear on the drone before the pegasus responsible for its capture spoke up.

“Hold your fire! I want it alive!” The creature obstructing the Changeling’s path lowered his weapon, the drone grinning wolfishly as it continued its charge, intent on goring the creature with its horn.

“Fine,” Kevin mumbled, turning his rifle over with a smooth, precise and near lightning quick motion, waiting until the changeling was almost upon him. He stepped to the side, slamming the butt of his rifle against the drone’s head, causing the creature to fall to the ground, its breathing raspy and shallow.

“You idiot,” Dash yelled as she ran up to the drone and turned it over, the creature appearing dead. She reared up, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him down to her level. “I said I wanted it alive! Why did you have to beat its brain out,” Kevin glared back at her, not liking the way she was talking to him.

“First of all,” he said, slipping his hands between her forelegs and slapping them away with a fluid movement. “Do not touch me in that manner; I could kill you before either of us noticed it. Second, it is not dead, it’s unconscious. And third,” he stopped, standing back up to full height and shouldering his rifle, holding the barrel at the ground to the left. “No one talks to me that way except my Sergeant. You get all that?” Dash glared at him, already blaming him for the problem at hand. He crouched down, turning the bug over before slinging his rifle across his back. He picked up the changeling, holding it in a Fireman’s carry over his shoulders before turning to face the ponies again. “Where do you want this thing?”

…

Kevin hobbled through the bunker below the library, making his way slowly toward the barracks he had been allowed to stay in with Clarence. Ponies gave him nods and hoof bumps as he walked through the crowded room, showing appreciation for his help with the invasion. After several minutes of hopping and limping, he found his bunk, Green Ash in the development station having created human proportioned beds for him and his teammates. He sat on the cotton sheets, the feather padding cushioning his heavy landing. “How’d you do today Clarence,” he asked as he removed his BDU pants, a set of the Human Universal Load Carrier Mk.7 coming into light as he slipped the waistband over his boots. Clarence shrugged, having followed Kevin’s cue and uncovered his own HULC system.

“Could have been worse,” he said, looking back at Kevin as he loosed the securing bolts from the mechanisms, lifting the braces from his shins. “They could have had RPG’s and Kalashnikovs, how about you?” Kevin shrugged in turn, finally getting the complex system of braces, hoses and hydraulic cylinders off his legs, waist and lower back, letting his ruck fall onto the bed next to it.

“Oh damn…” He muttered, sighing and rubbing the small of his back. “About the same, it was a manhunt on the streets, then a breach and clear through the houses, and then…” he shook his head, rotating his hand in the air. “Same shit, different day. Reminded me of Rio a bit to be honest…” Kevin pulled the left half of his HULC 7 over onto his lap, the reactive cloth leggings he wore hardening slightly at the contact. “There you are,” he muttered, pulling a pebble from the knee joint and tossing it aside.

“You mean that hostage situation that blew into a full scale invasion of Brazil,” Clarence asked as he performed a visual inspection of his HULC7 before pulling his pant’s back up. “I had no idea you’d been in the service that long.” Kevin shrugged and stood up, setting his HULC7 on the bed before sitting down into it. Titanium securing clamps snapped over his thighs and shins, Kevin quickly securing them before strapping into the abdominal supports.

“Now you’re making me sound old,” he joked, sliding back into his pants and pulling his boots on. “I’ve been in for seven years. I’ve seen everything from Rio to Kazakhstan,” He laced up the boots, tightening his pants cuffs around them before hauling his heavy pack over to himself. “You know, you probably have no idea what it’s like to not have these legs do you? I mean, these went into mass equipment just two years ago, standard issue like your M4. But when I joined up…” He shook his head as he opened the pack and observed the battery charge. It was half depleted, meaning he would have to deploy his solar panels tomorrow. “This stuff was the envy of every boot. Only the SEALs and Force Recon had this stuff.”

“How was that for you in Brazil,” Clarence asked with a chuckle, lying down on his cot and propping his head up with his hands. Kevin made a pained sounding harrumph, getting up from his cot and grabbing his rifle, leaving his helmet behind. “Where are you going? It’s rack,” Clarence asked, Kevin turning around to grab a couple of grenades from his foot locker before locking it with three padlocks and returning the chain to his neck that held his keys and tags.

“Yeah,” he said, trailing off as he clipped the thin grenades to his vest. “I’m not tired. You get some sleep, I’ll get you at oh-five-hundred.” Clarence saluted him lazily, returning to his previous position and setting off to his scheduled rest. Kevin opened a pocket on his vest, nodding as he looked inside the chest pocket before closing it again.

…

“What is your name,” An alabaster unicorn with a white mane and tail questioned across the steel table, his monotonous voice echoing off the stone-masoned walls of the eight-by-eight room. The being in question stared at him, its forelegs crossed over its breast as it leaned back in the chair, a glowing black ring around its horn and manacles chained to the table falling to its hind and front legs, shackled to its hooves tight.

“What is your name,” It asked in an identical voice, undetectable to be different even by a machine. The unicorn sighed as the interrogator did, mimicking him perfectly. “Where did you come from,” the impostor asked in tandem. “How old are you?”

The interrogator looked towards a window in the wall to his left, shaking his head and receiving a couple nods from two shadowed ponies and a tall human. The unicorn lowered his clipboard, turning around and walking out of the room. As the door closed, the impostor dropped its guise, a changeling drone taking form in its stead without changing its stance.

“What do you think General,” the unicorn asked as he walked into the darkened room. The gray-coated General Silvermane sighed, shaking his head.

“I don’t know what to do at this point,” he said, his gravelly voice vibrating the lungs of everyone present. “I’m not about to fall into torture, or even violent interrogation.” He looked to his right, finding Dash and Kevin beside him. “Either of you want to give this a go? This is, after all, your mess also.” Dash looked up at Kevin, who shrugged and nodded. He pulled a black and bulbous object from his side, releasing its securing clip and slipping it over his face and head. He tightened the straps as he stepped out of the viewing room door, turning right and standing before the steel door to the interrogation chamber. He pulled a black, short cylinder from his thigh pocket, screwing it into a hole on the mask before plugging a wire into one of the many facets on the mask, taking another cord from the mask itself and plugging it into a port on his pack. He opened the door, striding in and removing the restraints from the table, attaching them to the chair and pushing it across the room with a swift yet gentle kick, the back of the chair hitting the wall and causing the changeling to jump in surprise at how fast the creature before it had moved. Kevin walked up to the chair as the drone’s head swayed in dizziness, pulling a Polaroid photograph from his chest pocket and holding it up before the creatures face.

“Here’s a form,” he said, his voice garbled and distorted through the device on his mask. “Now tell me your name.” The changeling shook its head to clear its mind, squinting its insectile eyes to view the photo. It leaned to the left, looking around the photo at its new interrogator, the bulbous face and flat, glossy black eyes causing a chill to creep over its exoskeleton. It closed its eyes, concentrating on the one ability it still had after its magic had been blocked. It opened its eyes after the process was finished, having to angle its sight down at the interrogator. “What is your name,” The masked creature asked.

“Spawn four fifty three,” the changeling said in a female voice, surprising itself as it did. Kevin smirked behind his mask, standing and walking away and leaning against the wall. “What have you done?” Spawn 453 asked, Kevin shrugging.

“What is your directive,” he asked without answering the captive’s questions. He watched as the changeling struggled in its chains. It had taken the form of his cousin, a woman in her early twenties, of light build and long blond hair. Her skin was pale, her eyes deep green and her clothing that of a sub-culture metal fanatic. ‘I still don't get why she doesn’t grow up,’ he thought, returning the photo to his pocket.

“Release me from these binds cur,” the changeling demanded, straining to breath in the new anatomy as its new legs and arms constricted its chest. “Release me before I suffocate!” Kevin sighed, having heard fear in its voice. The sound had sent a spike of worry through him, but he quickly remembered it was not really his cousin. “Release me and I will tell you everything I know!” Kevin lifted his gaze to the changeling’s eyes slowly, doubting the honesty of its words. He looked to the left, as there was a series of rasps against the glass, the General nodding once. Kevin moved into action, breaking the cross-support on the chair legs with his foot lazily to release the securing clamp. He stepped to the side as the changeling fell to the ground, the chains allowing it to breathe but still keeping it curled into a more compact state.

“What is your directive,” he asked, looking down at the gasping creature in his cousin’s skin. He waited for a few moments as its breathing began to calm. It looked back at him, a sneer on its face before it spat at him, light green spittle covering his left goggle lens. “Have it your way,” he said, turning around and walking to the other side of the table.

“What is he doing,” Silvermane asked as he watched Kevin walk away from the drone, grabbing a chair and continuing to the door. “What is he doing,” he shouted.

“Something you said we didn’t do,” Dash said as realization hit her, taking flight quickly and heading for the door to the adjacent chamber. Silvermane slammed his hoof against the glass, trying to get Kevin's attention. Kevin glanced back at him once, slamming the back of the chair against the knob and breaking it off. He pushed the latch in inside the hole, knocking the other half of the system out as Dash slammed into the door. “Kevin! Let me the hell in!” She screamed. Kevin shook his head, propping the chair up against the door with a part of the back inside the hole where the knob had been. “Kevin!” He turned back around, walking around the table and turning the drone over.

“What is your directive,” he said with a commanding tone, the drone staring back at him in defiance. He grabbed the chains securing it, lifting it into the air and holding it at eye level. “Tell me your directive, or this will be the most painful experience of your life.” The drone smiled back at him, remaining silent. “Very well,” he said curtly, turning around and slamming the drone against the table hard enough for its assimilated ribs to audibly crack. The drone grunted in pain, an eye watering despite the bravado it was putting up. “What is your directive?” he asked again. The drone coughed once, spitting the violet blood that had collected in its mouth at him.

“You can make me bleed beast,” it snarled. “But you will never make me betray my queen.” Kevin grabbed the drone by the waist, lifting it into his arms and planting his fist against its ribs, pressurizing the fractures. The drone growled before a howl of pain escaped its lips, Kevin tossing it from his hold and letting it land on the concrete floors. The drone rolled over, coughing and sobbing, muttering curses in a language he did not understand. He approached again, standing over it menacingly as the sound of the door being battered increased. “Do your worst creature. I know my place is to serve my queen obediently, I will not…” Kevin punched it hard, his gloved fist meeting stone as the drone recoiled back.

“Tell me your directive,” he ordered again. “Tell me why you attacked this town!” The drone rolled over onto its hands and knees, pushing itself upright.

“Was that your best,” it asked, pausing to spit a pair of molars from its mouth. “I expected far worse.” Kevin frowned inside his mask, raising his leg and pressing a button on his thigh. He brought the limb down, the concrete caving slightly, inches from the drones head as the hydraulics in his HULC system overloaded.

“My best would undoubtedly kill you,” he said in his disguised voice. “Are you sure you want my best?” The drone’s mouth was agape, its eyes wide and staring directly at the hole in the shape of his boot. He looked the drone’s face over, finding his answer before he wrapped its hair around his hand and pulled it into a sit. The shrieks of protest died as he released his hold, allowing the drone to fall to the wall. “Tell me why you assaulted the town and were trying to capture the residents,” He placed his boot upon its chest, applying very light pressure. “Or your lose this air you love so much.” The drone remained silent, Kevin shrugging and pressing harder. The drone gasped, fighting for air before it waved its hands.

“W-wait…” it hissed with what air remained in its lungs. Kevin relented, removing his boot from its chest and allowing it to breathe. He lowered into a crouch, wiping the drying spit from his goggle. “W-we were sent to…” the drone stopped for a moment, gulping air as it over came the panic it just felt. “Sent to find something; something secret and something obvious, something old and something new.” Kevin grasped the changeling’s collar, pulling it closer in a threatening manner.

“What were you sent to find?”

“We did not know! The monarch told us to find them in that manner, and if we found one of them, she would let us know! I do not know how she does this, but she has done it to me before! I do not know what I am looking for until I have found it! I was sent to find something secret, so I was checking cellars and crawlspaces!” Kevin stared at the creature for a few more moments, releasing it and walking to the door. He drew his pistol, firing it into the latch and letting the port swing open. Dash barreled in, falling over herself before rising and charging at Kevin. He caught her neck and wing, tossing her aside before pinning her with a foot.

“I have your information; get this thing to wherever your general wants it before I tell you what you want to know.” He walked out of the door, closing it as best one now could behind him, the sound of his boots receding down the hall quickly.

…

“Kevin,” General Silvermane yelled as he followed the human through the bunker, traversing one of its many hallways. “Kevin, Stop!” The human ignored him, loosening the straps that held his mask on as he continued on his way. “Corporal I am ordering you to stop!” He stopped in his tracks as Kevin turned around, pulling his mask of and glaring at him with an intensity that scared the general.

“I am not one of your soldiers horse!” he yelled back, throwing his mask at his feet and pointing at him. “I am a member of the United States Army, and I will be damned if I am talked to by some pony as if they command me! I take my orders from my nation’s NCOs and officers, my nation’s leader and my nation’s citizens!” Silvermane returned his glare with one of his own, moving forward and daring the human to try something.

“You are in my bunker, and thus you will follow my orders or I will have you thrown out!” he argued back. Kevin grabbed the general by his mane, pulling him onto his hind legs and staring him down on his terms.

“I don’t have to be here,” he said through clenched teeth as he made his point through words and actions. “I could leave this facility with Clarence and Allison right now, with a clean conscious and an easy night’s sleep, and never look back no matter how any of you grass munching animals begged me to return. Moreover, if you should give the order to use force on us I could defend myself in proper and kill all of you with definite ease. I have the superior tech, training and tactics to hold off an entire regiment of human soldiers like myself, and am willing to die in the process to get back to my sister and brother at home. I could say less of your, ‘Freedom Fighters’. I witnessed more cowardice in that defense than I have ever seen from any fresh boot from the U.S, and I dare you to say anything in their defense.”

The general was dumbstruck, furious and speechless. This creature had just roughly handled him, spoken to him as if he was a foal and insulted his fighters, and all of the embarrassment made worse by the fact that the aggressor scared him witless. “You will leave me alone until I come to you, and until then I will be scarcer than a mouse in a house of hawks.” He released the general roughly, nearly throwing him from his grip and to his hooves before turning, retrieving his mask and walking away. Silvermane watched in near stupidity as Kevin rounded a corner, a plume of dust lingering in the air being the only thing to denote that anything had just transpired.

Author's Note

Holy shit… Dude what were you thinking?
“I have no idea, you’re the brains in this.”
Oh yeah… I suppose I thought it would make for good drama. *shrug*

Chapter two teasers!

Kevin gets a much-needed Feels session and a chance to talk about his family to…!
(Not gonna spoil it ;D)
Who is really in charge in the resistance?
Does Rainbow Dash despise or like Kevin?
Will there be another mention of Twilight and Dash’s romance?
All and more next chapter!

Ok readers, I know you all are wondering some things. something about the HULC7 thing and how Kevin could be so viscious toward his cousin's likeness are among them. possibly also the shortness of the violent interrogation as well.

1: Human Universal Load Carrier is a mechanical assistance system being developed for the US military by Lockheed Martin. It will increase soldier weight limit and stamina by 30% and is in the final stages of testing now. the Mark 7 version i mentioned is something from my mind, being slimmer in weight and longer in battery life, also is hidden under the clothing and outside a layer of bullet resistant reactive cloth material.

2: The interogation scene, thought short and not filled with much, was filler and and excuse to have the character explode on some pony. thought the applications used in real lie are very painfull. do you know how much it hurts to be punched in broken ribs?

3: How could he be so mean to his own cousin's likeness?
...
Yeah that will be covered next chapter ;)

Any more questions/complaints/compliments/comments can be posted below, and i will try to answer or touch on all of them before next chapter is posted.

Explotions, Gunfire, Near Death Encounters and the like Sir. Nothing we couldn't handle.

Kevin stood on the balcony of the library, leaning against the railing with a Zune in his hand, black earbuds in his ears and the cord handing down his chest. The music could be heard from feet away, the old country tune tolling its slow melody out in the air past his ears. Despite his hard set and passive expression, glistening tracks ran down his cheeks, drops of saline falling from his chin and onto the letter in his left hand. He looked out over the rolling hills and verdant fields before him with passive acceptance, paying them no attention as the sun set on the horizon. Normally he would have a cup of coffee or an energy drink nearby to his right, but in its stead was an ashtray, occupied by three crushed butts and one burning cigarette. On his left lay a white pack of cigarettes, a black pony’s skull and crossbones decorating its façade as a warning to any customer that would buy them; a flip lighter lying open next to the pack.

He stood like this as the sun set, silently crying and sparing a few fleeting glances to the letter, breaking this routine only to draw off of a cigarette or light another. His solitude was broken half an hour later as the glass door behind him swung open, the lavender unicorn that resided in the building walking out levitating two cups of steaming coffee. He looked back at her shortly, looking back to his media player to turn it off and stow it and the letter on his person before taking the offered floating mug. “Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice not betraying his status as he took a drink from the white porcelain. He ignored the pain in his mouth and throat as he quaffed the searing fluid, finding the burning sensation more desirable than the pain in his chest. Twilight nodded, curling up in a wide rocker on the balcony and laying her mug on the rail nearby to cool. They sat in silence for a few minutes, both watching the sunset, ignoring the world around them until Twilight broke the ice.

“Is… something wrong,” she asked, watching him as he lit another cigarette, observing the pack as he laid it down and noticing it was nearly empty. Kevin shook his head, inhaling the cancer. Twilight allowed him his personal space, falling silent and taking her mug into her hooves before blowing it to cool it faster. She sipped from the rim carefully as she watched a tear stream down his cheek and fall to the floor, a sniff escaping his passive stance.

“I’m sorry,” He said quietly, taking another drag from the cigarette before finishing his sentence. “You’re trying to help, I understand, but I don’t want to trouble you with my… well my troubles.” Twilight gave a sad smile as he began to open his metaphorical shell.

“It’s alright,” she said in return. “Would you like somepony to talk to?” Kevin sighed, nodding slowly before pulling a white envelope from his pocket and handing it to her. She took it in her magical grasp, removing a letter from inside and reading it over. She was silent for a moment before she lowered the paper. “What is this, a break-up letter?” Kevin nodded.

“It’s from someone back home,” he said. “My girlfriend in fact… We started dating in high school, and it lasted for nine years. I was going to ask her to marry me when I got back. I even picked this up on one of my combat tours.” Twilight had since returned her attention to the letter, moving it aside to find him holding a black felted box, the top flipped back to reveal a silver band with a polished and gleaming emerald on top. “I was ten weeks from being shipped back home from the base when I got the letter. I didn’t open it because we were attacked and I had to protect myself and my fellow soldiers. I forgot about it in the chaos of the ambush and hadn’t read it when we ended up here. I finally opened it about two hours ago, and let’s say that a certain changeling caught the brunt of my fury and misdirected emotions.” He took the ring from the box, holding it to the light and gazing upon its prismatic facets. “I was ten weeks away from living the dream, you know? Ten weeks and I would marry my sweetheart, buy a two story house with a white picket fence, a two car garage and eventually have two and a half children.” He put the ring back in its box, closing it and tossing it over his shoulder. “So much for the American Dream…” Twilight sat silent, casting a spell to clear the air around her as he lit another of Filthy Rich’s trademark Filth Sticks. Kevin coughed heavily as he exhaled the carcinogens, the fit lasting three minutes before it subsided. “Shit you ponies sure go all out on death sticks,” he commented, putting the one he had out and tossing the remainder of the pack into a trash bin beside him. “You know, I have to say the worst part of that letter is where she mentions my cousin Ellie…the damn punk. She left me for my own damn cousin.” He shook his head, pocketing the lighter by his hand and turning around. He opened the door, stepping in but halting before he closed the door. “Thank you, for listening.” Twilight smiled and nodded, floating the letter over to him. “Keep it,” he said, holding up a hand to stop her. “I don’t was a Dear John letter cluttering my pockets.” Twilight gave him another nod, returning the letter to its envelope and wedging it under her foreleg as he closed the door.

“What a strange species,” Twilight mused as she watched the sun continue its descent, her inquisitive mind peeking through for the first time in a long while. “Maybe he wouldn’t mind answering a few questions about his race.”

…

“Sup lizard,” Kevin asked as he walked through the center room of the library, giving Spike a noogie before walking to where he had left his rifle and helmet. Spike harrumphed, crossing his arms and facing him.

“I don’t know ape,” he sniped. Kevin chuckled as he clipped his helmet next to the gasmask on his pack, slinging the rifle over a shoulder. “What are you laughing at?” Kevin shook his head, walking up to the little dragon and crouching before poking him on the snout.

“You,” he said with a smirk. “I was joking with you. I know you’re a dragon. It’s a joke where I come from, and it isn’t supposed to upset anyone.” Spike blew smoke out of his nostrils, his cross expression refusing to budge. Kevin sighed as the offense had set in fully. “You eat gems, right?” he asked, getting a single nod. “Tell you what. You forget that happened and forgive me, I won’t call you that again, and you can have the big emerald on the silver band out on the patio.” Spike raised an eyebrow before shrugging and heading toward the glass doors to the patio. “It’s in a black velvet box!” he called after him, getting a thumbs-up before the door closed. Kevin sighed, rubbing his face before standing up. He groaned before turning to the front door, Silvermane having cleared him to tour the town whenever he wanted after the raid earlier on the basis that their purpose is to help and the ponies wouldn’t react too oddly. “I thoroughly hate downtime.” He mumbled, making his way through the doorway, having to hunch to exit efficiently.

...

Kevin walked though the town, looking for something to do after he had been relieved of his offer to help an hour ago. The pop of sporadic gunfire reached his ears every so often, ponies of the resistance and citizens alike ducking temporarily before continuing on their way. To Kevin, however, the sounds went un-acknowledged, the seasoned soldier easily continuing on his search without so much as a second thought. He lent hands where he could, helping ponies carry loads and assisting the resistance forces in moving dead changelings and wounded to triage at town hall and the pyres outside the town perimeter. It was a slow process, requiring miles of foot travel, but he didn’t mind; he was trying to pass the time after all. As he was making his way back to the barracks, a pony he already knew the name of stopped him. It was a mare, about as tall as his waist with a two-tone blue mane and tail, violet sunglasses resting on her muzzle. She smiled at him with a sly grin, seeming to stare through him from behind the shades. After an awkward minute of silence, she finally said “Hey there.” Kevin cocked an eyebrow at her supposedly important issue.

“Hello,” he replied, angling his gaze down at the disc jockey to compensate for the height difference.

“Yeah, I’m Vinyl,” he held out a hoof, which Kevin shook. “I noticed you were helping ponies and I was wondering if you might be able to help me with a bug problem back at the club.” Kevin sighed. What did she think he was, an exterminator?

“I would love to help,” he replied, the mare grinning slightly wider. “However, you see I am a soldier. All I know how to use is this rifle,” he patted his SCAR affectionately. “And I doubt bullets would be very effective against bugs without causing serious property damage.”

“It’s not that kind of bug problem,” she stated, lifting her glasses to show him more explanatory facial expressions. “The changelings have taken up residence in my club, and I don’t want to go asking the resistance. Their policy is more, ‘shoot everything and hope we hit something,’ you know?” Kevin made and exasperated motion, silently agreeing with her. “More to the point, I saw the way you and that other one of you handle things, more precise and less damage. I want you to get them out of there in time for tonight’s show. I don’t care if you kill them or scare them out, that ain't my problem. I just want them gone. I would be willing to pay you too, name your price!” Kevin thought on the subject for a moment. He was not, by the code of conduct for the military, supposed to accept payment for services rendered to locals. “I can give you bits, or I could give you free tickets to my shows, or I could do…” She reared up and placed her hooves on his waistband, putting on a sultry look. “Other things… I'm not against inter-species ya know.” She gave him a wink that caused him to blush.

“No thank you, umm…” He rubbed the back of his head nervously as she got off him. “Payment isn’t necessary ma’am…”

“Vinyl,” she said sternly. “Ma’am makes me sound old and I'm only twenty four.” Kevin nodded.

“So shall we take a look at your problem then,” he asked, being lead away from the alley they had retreated into, following her to the club. She led him down the streets into a more barren part of town, warehouses and rundown housing dominating the infrastructure of the area. Kevin felt something off, brushing it off as PTSD from Rio. Nevertheless, he adjusted his hold on his rifle, readying himself to fire on the first thing that reared its ugly head. “You keep your club in this area?”

“No doubt,” Scratch said, bouncing once to turn and face him, continuing to walk on the path in reverse. “Well, it isn’t really a club. It’s more of an abandoned warehouse I host raves and things at. My club was In Canterlot, but you can probably guess why I’m not there anymore.” Kevin nodded once scanning the windows and rooftops for anything unusual. This was, however, a rather broad term considering he was in a world of talking ponies. “And here we are,” Vinyl said as she turned around, pushing a lock off a chain with a quick lift of her hoof. The chain link gate swung open slightly, Vinyl pushing it open in full before motioning Kevin inside the expansive courtyard.

‘Great,’ he thought as he passed the threshold, continuing into the yard and past the danger zone. He reached the door to the warehouse, turning around to find the gate closed and locked, Vinyl nowhere to be seen. “How did I fall for this...” he mumbled, sucking air through his teeth and raising his rifle, lowering himself into a crouch and slowly moving toward a large concrete block in the shadow of an awning. Once there he rose slightly, peeking over the block with his rifle, sighting the area for something resembling a changeling. Finding the all clear, he turned his attention to the entrance to the building. Even though he had nothing to check his Intel on, it was a lead and he was obligated to follow it.

…

As the door swung inward, a shadow against the sunny background stood before it, weapon raised and pieing the room for contacts. The figure stepped in, quickly making its way to the nearest point of defensible cover. The stack of bricks was near the door on the right, Kevin digging in his pockets for something as he remained hidden. Within seconds he had produced a pair of Night or Dark glasses, the tight fitting and streamlined devices looking like a set of swimmers goggles, save for the faint green glow behind the blacked out lenses. As the optical device powered up the room came into light, the black shadows glowing with the green radiance of the enhancement. The central floor was filled with litter, paper cups, broken speakers and shimmering glitter prominent among the mess. “Hello...” Kevin muttered as something liquid reached his attention. He checked the room again, this time scanning the high ground of the catwalks and rafters for contacts before breaking cover. He stalked to the small puddle of fluid, placing the fingertips of his glove in the fluid and bringing it to his nose. “Blood,” he said expressionlessly before wiping the red fluid on the cement at his boots. Around him were more puddles, these radiating on a different color spectrum than the crimson next to him. “There was a skirmish,” he deduced, following the trail of red drops. “The defender survived the attack, but they were wounded. They took refuge… here…” He looked up in time for his vision to fade to black, a sharp pain being the last thing he could remember.

...

‘Twice in a week,’ Kevin thought as he came too, trying to raise his hand to rub his face but finding them held fast. “The fuck…” He muttered past a thick tongue before opening his eyes. It was dark, which meant his goggles had been removed. He turned his view over his shoulder, struggling against the hemp fiber ropes around his wrists. A shuffling sound stopped him, causing him to look around the dark for the source.

“KoJ si ti? KoJ te isprati za mene?”

It was Greek or some Baltic language Kevin was sure, but he didn’t understand it. The questioner was asking him something, this was something he was also certain of, but again, he could not understand them. “I…”

“KoJ si ti? KoJ te isprati za mene?” This time the speaker used more forceful words, making the point that they were not messing around known. Kevin heard the sound of a gun cocking, jumping slightly in his defenseless state. “KoJ si ti?! KoJ te isprati za mene?!” Kevin felt the chill of steel on his forehead, the large barrel pressing against him. He closed his eyes, trying to think past the panic that was filling him.

“Jas ne…” He started, remembering something a friend in high school had told him to say if he ever found himself in northern Greece. “Jas ne, se, raz… razbi… razbiram. Jas ne se razbiran!” The gun barrel retreated slightly, maintaining contact with his brow but relieving the pressure. “Parlez-vous français? Mluvíte česky?“ (Do you speak French? Do you speak Czech?)

“Nestačí sdílet slov,“

‘It is not enough words to share,‘ Kevin thought, confused before he understood. ”Wie wäre es mit Deutsch? Kanske svenska?”

”How about we stick to the pony tongue? I will not ask how you know Ice Tongue or Goth, and you will not ask me any more questions.” Kevin nodded once, setting his service tag number in the front of his mind as he was trained. He wasn’t going to give this thing anything. ”Would you like some light shed on the situation?” Kevin fumbled mentally, recovering just as a set of shutters opened, flooding the room with light and causing him to flinch. He swore under his breath as he blinked to let his eyes adjust to the sudden onslaught of the sun. After a minute he could observe the room around him, and what he saw would be surprising if he didn't deal with it on a daily basis.

Along the walls of the apparent office room were tables and racks, both laden with weapons, ammunition and explosives. The majority of the firearms he couldn’t identify, being oddly large caliber from the bore of the barrels and slightly over-sized in their construction. The explosives resembled Compound-4 and Symtex, fragmentation grenades of older design and smoke canisters flanked a crate’s amount of munitions, an estimated three thousand rounds of assorted ammo lined up on columns around their respective firearms. ”You like the view?” the speaker said, drawing Kevin's attention away from the tables. It was a man, around six feet tall with a black braided mohawk that dropped to his shoulders. His skin was pale, his clothing a mixture of black and gray in a urban camouflage pattern. He was built with muscle that caused his uniform to struggle to stay closed, seeming to be two sizes too thin on his frame. On his back was a folded combat axe, the breaching spike and wide head causing it to resemble a medieval war axe. He held his left hand over his abdomen, crimson stains covering his flesh and gray tee.

”What happened to you,” Kevin asked, finding his legs were not secured and standing with his arms behind his back. The man lifted his right hand, a silver handgun resembling a Desert Eagle clutched in his fist and aimed loosely at Kevin.

”Not your problem,” the man said. ”And I thought I said you wouldn’t as me any questions?” Kevin chuckled humorlessly.

”The tables have turned since then,” he stated. ”You’re injured, bleeding out if I’m right, and i am obligated to help the wounded.” The man dropped his hand, sighing and holstering his sidearm with mild difficulty. ”So what happened?”

”Some of those morphs swarmed the warehouse,” he began limping to an empty table and sitting on it. He motioned for Kevin to come to him, turning him around and untying his hands. ”I killed all of them, but they got me in the gut as a last attempt.” Kevin shuffled through a box at his feet, pulling out a medical kit. Inside was several items he recognized save for the alphabet it used. He tore the top away from the packet of coagulating agent, rolling up the man's shirt and pouring the white powder over the wound. It would need further attention than he could provide, Kevin deduced as the white powder near instantly turned red. He clamped a bandage over it, tying the straps around his back and stomach tight. ”How did you end up here,” the man asked. ”You look like you’re from the dunes.” Kevin shrugged, double checking the knot he had tied before rolling the man’s shirt back down.

”You could say that,” he said vaugely. ”But where I’m from, you would have never heard of.”

”The Eagle Republic eh,” the man asked, getting a surprised look from Kevin. ”Yeah I know about you. Freedom Freaks is what we call you all, running head long into any conflict that appears and the freedom of a people are threatened or has been suppressed. The last I heard, your president was content that there was nothing going on in the world. What are you, an advanced scout or someone to cause a need for help?” Kevin threw up his hands, standing and walking toward the shutters.

”I’m not allowed to say anything without talking to command first,” he informed, dodging any questions right away. Outside the scene hadn’t changed, the sun still bearing down toward them, nearly set. The smoke from the body pyres blotted out most of the sky here, telling Kevin he was west of the library and the bunker. He scratched his head, turning and pointing at the man. “What are you doing here,” he asked. “And furthermore, what the hell is your name?”

“Koloss,” He said curtly, pulling a pack of cigarettes marked white with something in Cyrillic scrawled across the front. “I'm here because my nation was attacked by the morphs in the sunny season. We chased them off, but I was ordered to track their leader and stand guard against her.”

“Colossus,” Kevin mumbled, finding the name fitting for an advanced guard. “Alright, look here. You have a bleeding abdominal wound, a bullet is floating inside your flooding guts and you need medical attention I can’t give. I am urging you to let me take you to the ponies so they can give you the proper care.” Koloss shook his head, taking a drag off his cigarette.

“Not on my life,” he said in morbid humor. “I’m not allowed contact with any of the locals. I’m surprised you are for that matter. Last I heard, previous contact in the deserts to the west of here ended in a bloody conflict between us and the Zebras.” Kevin sighed, walking up to the man and meeting him a foot away.

“Look Koloss,” he said in an aggressive tone. “Either you come with me, or I knock you out, call us even, and carry your ass to a medic.” Koloss blew smoke in Kevin’s face, smirking.

“I dare you.” Kevin sighed and drew his 1911, pistol-whipping the soldier on the temple before he could react.

“Challenge fucking accepted,” Kevin muttered as he lifted the man over his back, turning toward the door and making his exit.

Author's Note

Ok… What the hell did I just write?

I don’t care, I just hope it pleases you guys.

Loads of Foreign languages in this, so I'll list em off here in order of appearance.
Macedonian, French, Czech, German and Swedish. that's it.

Anyway, I think I may have cleared up a few issues like how he could nearly kill the likeness of his cousin and stuff.

But now there’s a new plot twist! Who wants more of this plot?

Also, how about that Vinyl Scratch? Shew Boy talk about an awkward moment. However I doubt he would have minded to take her on that… offer. Heh heh heh. ^_^

As always, like, Fave, Give feedback. Do it all. I love reading responses! :D

Well then... What about the chopper? Why didn't you bring it back?

Twilight stared at the ceiling, listening to the tick of the wall-mounted clock that she knew read 1:23 AM. This was not an uncommon thing for her, being up so late was more of a routine considering how much research she did into anything and everything, but this situation was new. One could say she had been doing research, discovering things on the subject of anatomy, about herself. However, this was not the case and she knew it as soon as she heard a snore from above her head. She returned her eyes to the wall before her, tilting her head back to look up into the lightly snoring face of Rainbow Dash. The sight of the mare lost in dreams, a peaceful expression on her face and a smile on her lips, brought a sense of happiness to Twilight that she had not felt in a long time.

It was a peace in its own right, calming her mind to a tranquil pool of enjoyable thoughts and memories. It caused her chest to tighten, loosening at the same time as her heart began to flutter between two and three beats per pulse. It was strange, but she liked it. She smiled as Dash mumbled in her sleep, her hoof shifting on Twilight’s shoulder before a smile settled into her lips. Twilight giggled quietly, closing her eyes and tightening her hold on the mare she was wrapped around. She began to drift to sleep, enjoying the scent of Raspberries that wafted from Dash’s fur.

That was before a loud crash caused he eyes to wrench themselves open, Dash jumping into action and nearly pulling her off the bed in a frenzied attempt to find the revolver she had brought upstairs with her. Twilight pushed herself up with her front hooves, sighing and growling in frustration towards the door. “What is wrong with you,” She screamed down the stairs, getting up from the bed and storming to the door. She pulled it open with her magic, nearly breaking the hinges as she strode through the portal, halting on the landing beyond. Dash followed her out, pistol raised before she beheld the scene below them.

“Hey guys,” Kevin said in a strained voice, a human they had never seen draped over his shoulders as he strained to walk to the shelf that concealed the passage to the bunker below. “Can I get some help with the door? This guy’s really heavy.” Dash looked to Twilight, nuzzling her softly before jumping the rail ad floating down to the bookcases. She pulled the book out slightly, a black leather-bound novel with a red diamond etched into the spine, the shelves rotating on their pivot to reveal the stairs beyond. “Thanks,” He said as he passed the threshold, nodding once and spraying sweat across the stone steps.

…

Kevin sighed as he laid Koloss on the cot beside Allison, standing to be met with several sharp cracks from his spine. He sighed again, the muscles in his shoulders and back relaxing from the three-mile trek through town. “You are a heavy sonovabitch,” He muttered, turning around.

“What in Tartarus do you think you are doing,” General Silvermane asked from the doorway, ignoring the shushes from the doctors and nurses as he strode into the room. “I thought the three of you were all that there were?”

“So did I,” Kevin said, placing his hand on his sidearm and the other on his hip. “I met him today after Vinyl Scratch asked me to clear her Rave of bugs. I suspect that he put her up to it, but I'm only voicing assumptions.” Silvermane covered his eyes with a foreleg, wiping his face before sighing audibly.

“I am not here to protect you humans Kevin,” The pony said slowly. “I am here to help drive Chrysalis out of Canterlot, exterminate the infestation in Equestria, and place Celestia back on her throne. I do not have time to babysit a rouge foreign soldier, his buck-up friend and a comatose female.”

“Take care of this one and he will be on his way A.S.A.P.” Kevin said, kicking the leg of the cot gently. “He isn’t with us, and he told me he isn’t even supposed to allow you to see him. Just take care of his wounds, let him lay around for a week, and send him on his way.” Silvermane was about to rebut before a hand wrapped around his leg. He followed the human arm to find it belonging to the woman Kevin had arrived with, Allison having woken up with an expression of terror on her face.

“Allison,” Kevin exclaimed, kneeling beside her. “Thank whatever you’re awake!” She twitched her gaze to Kevin, quickly returning it to Silvermane.

“The caverns below Canterlot,” She said, voice stone cold and strong. “Find her there, before they do.” Silvermane pulled his leg out of her steel tight grip, staring blankly at her for a moment. “Go now! Before it is too late! Your Dark Night needs your help!”

“How do you know that title,” He asked, uncertainty in his voice. “How do you know she is alive?”

“Go!” She shouted, startling all present before she went limp once more. Doctors hurried to her side, checking her over.

“She’s out again,” a nurse said, placing her back in her previous position. She looked at the two around the cot, switching between them. “Do either of you know what she was talking about?” Kevin shook his head slowly, the seasoned veteran phased by the actions of his comrade.

“Y-yeah,” Silvermane said, regaining his composure. “I know exactly what she was talking about…” He stared at the comatose human, backing away slowly. “Kevin,” He said, drawing the shocked soldier’s attention. “I hate to say it, but I'm going to need your help on this. You are efficient if anything, and your weapons are more suited for where we are going.” Kevin nodded once, checking his gear before standing.

…

Kevin crouched behind a stand of ferns at the edge of the Everfree Forest, a dead Manticore behind him as he surveyed the open fields before him. His face was painted black and gray, the stripes breaking up his white skin. His uniform had also been changed, the pigments magically altered into a black and gray urban stripe pattern. He lifted his left hand to his throat, activating his Larynx Microphone. “All call signs, this is Colt,” He said quietly, the vibration sensor transmitting the words as if he had yelled them. “I have clear roads ahead. First squad rally on me, second and third squad stick tight to Dash and Light bulb.” He lowered his hand, wrapping it around the fore grip on his rifle before raising it to sight out the field. The sound of scaled half plate armor and weapons issued from behind him, halting before a hoof patted him on the shoulder. He raised his left hand in a fist, extending two fingers and pointing toward the fields beyond. He rose to a low hunch, rifle aimed forward as he exited the foliage, a squadron of fifteen ponies behind him. A hiss drew his attention, the sound of a pony gasping following it. Kevin turned, drawing his pistol, a silencer attached, and fired into the skull of a cockatrice. The pony thanked him quietly, turning and joining the squadron as Kevin brought up the rear.

As they broke free of the large ferns and low bushes, the group began to run, sprinting the distance to a large and broad oak tree. They all slowed as they entered the shade, their magically altered coats and clothing blending into the shadows the moon cast as well as one could hope for, the only way one could find them was if they were directly before them and trying to find them. “Second Squad, Move out,” He ordered. Fifteen black pegasi, lead by a blackened Rainbow Dash, flew swift and low over the fields, hooves brushing the grass and creating a hushed rustle. The group wove between the low hills, landing behind a stand of boulders near a cliff. He watched as Dash gave him an exaggerated nod, once more issuing the order for his squad to move out. He took point, not having to save a pony’s life this time, closing the vast distance with his troops in two minutes. He crouched low behind a boulder, rising to view the area. “All clear,” He said to the gathered group. He activated his radio again, hailing Clarence. “Squadron three, secure the oak tree for Extraction of POV, move.” He set the grip of his rifle on the boulder. “Cover,” He said loud enough to be heard by both squads, ponies laying weapons on their respective boulders, watching the field for movement.

In a second of the order being given, Clarence broke from the trees with seven Unicorns in tow, surrounding the tree before climbing into it. Kevin waited with tense muscles as the private checked the tree for hostiles, five minutes passing before he dropped down. “All clear Colt,” He said over the radio, Kevin turning the head set down as he realized it was still on maximum volume. “We are waiting for you to deliver the package.”

“Copy your last,” He said, spinning his hand in the air before punching the air toward a cave to their left. “First Squad going in.” He turned on the ball of his foot, moving more freely now that he didn’t have the HULC constricting his joints, running the distance to the cave and lowering his goggles over his eyes. The ponies behind him followed his example, placing a pair of enchanted goggles over their own eyes. Kevin leaned out of cover, bracing his weight on his right knee as he scanned the cavern with his rifle. He waved his squad in, looking up to find the base of the cliff mounted city of Canterlot high above. After a moment of contemplating how the city was even possible for clutching the cliff as it did, he entered the cave, stopping near the back of the stone hollow. “Who has the gear,” he asked, a pony hurrying up and dropping a box beside him. Kevin flipped a switch on the box, a click issuing from it. The click repeated itself every four seconds for half a minute, falling silent. Ten seconds later, echoes of the click returned to them, the box lighting up a red arrow in the direction of a tunnel toward their right. “Fourth Squad, move up to the cave. Second Squad, pile in.” He slid the box into the saddlebags of a pony next to him as Dash came up beside him.

“Which one,” she asked, turning her head to each of the three tunnels. Kevin pointed to the center one.

“You have your gear on you,” He asked, Dash patting her saddlebag. “Good. These tunnels are bound to backtrack and split off into more. These boxes home in on energy signatures from the Princesses. When you come to a split, follow the box.” Dash nodded, rallying her forces behind her before swooping into the tunnel. “Fourth Squad, Pile in.” In a minute, fifteen Unicorns in full gear entered the cave, heavy weapons in hoof and covered in heavy armor. “Give me your gear,” he said, receiving a box like the one he had used earlier. “Alright. Commander Steelhoof, I want you and your squad to stay here and guard the entrance. Nothing gets in or out without properly executing the echo.” He made a star with his hands, getting a nod from the unicorn before him. “Remember it. If you see us with the Package, ask us the question. Only she will answer.” The unicorn nodded again. “You aren’t much for talking are you?” The unicorn lifted his helmet, motioning with a hoof that his throat had been cut. “Ah.” Kevin said, rounding up his team.

…

Kevin stopped in the center of a large cavern, deep into the mountains below Canterlot. He held up his fist, slowly kneeling. “Take a knee. Check your gear.” He listened to the sounds of the ponies’ weapons clattering, their users checking the most miniscule of details. “Give me the box,” he ordered, a pony placing the black locator in his hand as he reached behind himself. Kevin placed the box before him, flipping the switch. The clicks sounded, returning soon. The arrows cycled, the sound of electricity arcing and the smell of acrid smoke reaching the group. “Shit,” Kevin swore, slapping the box and receiving a decent jolt of power to his hand. “Mother…” he brought his fingers to his lips, sucking on the jolted tips until the pain subsided. “Mmm! Secure a perimeter!” Ponies saluted him, fanning out to check the area for enemies. Kevin stood, shaking his hand before returning the numb appendage to his weapon. “Beta branch, come in,” he said into his radio, standing up and walking around the area. The cavern was large, the ceiling being beyond the sight of his enhanced goggles, the structure of the cave being crystalline. Removing his goggles, he found he could see quite well, the crystal structure casting a calming blue radiance about the area. From the ceiling, he spotted a center of radiating light, the glow akin to moonlight.

“The area is secure,” a pony shouted, Kevin nodding before averting his gaze from the hypnotic orb of luminescence. He searched his person for his binoculars, finding them and returning his vision to the glowing orb. Something about the light was off, but what it was he couldn’t deduce. As he investigated the orb, his suspicions were determined to be without reason, the orb of light being just what it seemed.

“This place just gets stranger and stranger,” Kevin muttered, returning his binoculars to their pouch on his waist. “Alright,” he said aloud, drawing the ponies’ attention. “Let’s fall back. Our gear is broken, so we can’t keep going or we’ll just get lost.” He turned around, heading back the way they came. He made it ten feet from the entrance, an unseen barrier flashing and throwing him back across the room, Kevin impacting on a spire of crystal near the center of the room. “Fluh plubble…” he managed intelligently, sitting slouched and sprawled on the spire, shaking his head and licking his teeth. “Damn,” he exclaimed, having found his vocabulary. “What the hell was that?” A unicorn walked near to where the barrier was, kicking a shard of crystal toward the tunnel. The barrier snapped into action once again, sparking and sending the shard back with a flash of light. Kevin’s eyes went wide, rolling away in time to receive a superficial gash on his temple. He rolled onto his hands and knees, rising quickly to kneel and placing a hand on the side of his head, sucking air through his teeth as the cut seared with pain. “Can we please be a little careful? I feel like this entire damned world is trying to kill me! First, the Manticore, then the barrier… now, flying fucking crystal spikes! God dammit!” He panted after his outburst, sighing and standing to survey the spike. It was embedded three inches into the spire he had landed on, a drop of blood clinging to the edge that had cut him.

“Sorry,” the unicorn said, raising his hoof and gingerly reaching toward the barrier. His hoof caused arcs of energy to cast along the barrier, the contact not warranting the violent reaction Kevin had experienced. The arcs spider webbed along the barrier, revealing the invisible wall to encompass them, a blue aura lining the cavern ten feet from all of the walls. The unicorn followed the barrier up, tracing the path of a lighter blue pulse through the barrier to the orb of light high above. “That’s the source,” he said, lowering his hoof and pointing to the ball. Kevin looked up, pulling his sidearm from his thigh and taking aim. He fired at it, the sound of a ricochet reaching his ears promptly.

“Shit, take cover,” he ordered, ducking behind the spire. The ponies scattered, a few running into the barrier and being thrown to the spire, others narrowly being missed by the bullet before it dug into the floor. Everyone rose from their prone positions, raising hooves and hands from the backs of their heads.

“Kevin what were you thinking,” the unicorn screamed at him. “You tell us to be careful, and then you shoot a fucking bullet in a force field? You shoot something in a Violent fucking force field!?” the unicorn reared up, crouching on his haunches and squeezing his temples. “I swear to fucking Celestia you humans make no sense!” he closed his eyes tight, massaging circles on his temples. Kevin stood and dusted his uniform, holstering his sidearm and shrugging, giving the pony a sheepish smile.

“Sorry,” he said idiotically. “I thought it might help. Shit man I didn’t go to magic college, humans don’t have that.”

“Do you have Common Sense classes at least,” the pony yelled back, huffing and falling onto his face, beating his head on the floor. Kevin shrugged again, finding it better to end the conversation now, lest he catch another blast of magic.

“So how do we get out of here,” he asked, fingering his microphone and hailing the other half of his team again. The unicorn looked up from the floor, his forehead bruised slightly.

“Can we can go five seconds without a life threateningly stupid incident?” Kevin nodded. “Then give me ten minutes and I will see if I can do something.”

…

“Ten minutes is up,” Kevin said, standing from his seat on the wall and walking over to the Unicorn that was at work finding a solution to their predicament. “What do you have?” The unicorn looked down from the orb of light, his glowing horn returning to its unnatural black color.

“It's an old spell,” he said. “It’s been here since before any of the reliably recorded history we have.”

“Reliably recorded,” Kevin asked. “Isn’t your empire only a couple thousand years old?” The unicorn nodded.

“Yeah, but Discord liked to mess with things when he was ruling our kind. Nothing before Nightmare Moon was banished was nearly as reliable…” He stopped, blinking and glaring at the human. “You got me on a tangent on purpose, didn’t you?” Kevin smirked and pointed up. “Yes… well it seems that the crystals in the cavern are feeding the field with some sort of power. It would also seem that the field was created to hold something as powerful as Celestia or Luna inside indefinitely.”

“Wait,” Kevin interjected. “What do you mean Indefinitely? Are you telling me that we are going to be stuck here forever?” The unicorn scowled at Kevin with a bemused expression.

“What do you think indefinitely means, smart one?” Kevin returned his expression, huffing and shaking his head; this was no time for jokes. “You wanted to know what it was and how to deal with it. I told you what I can get from it.” Kevin swore under his breath, taking off his cap and throwing it on the ground.

“What will it take to destabilize it,” a pony from across the room asked. “If we can just disrupt it, we could squeeze through the gap and escape, right?” The unicorn looked at the pony who spoke, finding an earth pony with a scar over his right eye.

“How do you know Magical Field Theory,” he asked incredulously, slightly awestruck by the pony’s knowledge of something he couldn’t do.

“My parents are unicorns,” the pony said with a smirk. The unicorn made a ‘Whodathunk’ expression, returning his gaze to the orb above and setting his horn alight, searching for the weakness.

“It would take a disruptive pressure equal to or greater than fifty cubic pounds of air, or…” The unicorn was cut off as a tapping sound reached his ears. He turned his head to the right, spying Kevin bouncing the bottom of a Mk. III Grenade on a flat piece of crystal.

“I got this,” he said. The unicorn nodded, stepping away and letting him choose his angle. Kevin took aim, pulling the pin and holding down the trigger. “How close should I get it?” he asked.

“Right in it, or as close as possible,” the unicorn replied. Kevin made to throw, stopping himself half way and turning to face him. “What?”

“It has a fuse,” he said plainly. “It won’t go off in time. You need to hold it there for me with that floating thing you do.” The unicorn nodded once. Kevin turned back around, readying himself before chucking the canister as hard as he can. It reached half way before it began to fall, the unicorn grasping it with a spell and getting it to the orb. He placed it above the ball, letting go in time for the grenade to detonate. The barrier flashed once, falling before a new one began to form. “Everyone out!” Kevin ordered, making for the edge of the cavern. The ponies scrambled, reaching the wall nearest to them before the field returned, pulsing for a few seconds before returning to its invisible state. “Well that went well.”

…

Clarence sighed, leaning back against the giant oak and sliding down the bark to sit on his heels. He hated waiting, too many bad things happened to soldiers while waiting in the field. He was no different from the others, despite not being a lifer. In the years he had served, Clarence had been blown up, shot, tossed from a Humvee, fallen out of a chopper and caught three fragments of shrapnel; all while waiting for orders in the field. He sighed and clutched his helmet, pulling it over his eyes, trying to close out the worry that was filling his head. ‘Calm down,’ he thought, taking several deep breaths. ‘Just keep cool and you’ll be fine.’ He lifted the edge of his helmet, finding nothing out of the ordinary, aside from not being on earth.

“You ok,” a pony beside him asked, nudging his leg with a hoof. Clarence looked over at the pony, nodding weakly. “No you’re not. You reek of fear.” Clarence hid his surprise that he pony could smell his fear, sighing once and rubbing his face. “Ain’t nothing out here to be afraid of, you know? Well, besides the carnivorous wildlife and Changelings that I’m sure are hiding in this grass somewhere. Other than that we are perfectly safe.” The pony smiled at him dumbly, getting a scoff of laughter from Clarence.

“You certainly have a way of looking at a bad situation,” he replied. Leaning forward and moving his rifle from behind him, holding it muzzle up between his knees. The pony shrugged, adjusting his hold on the weapon in his hooves.

“Yeah, well it’s like my pops always said,” he stopped, putting on an impersonation of someone old. “Stop playing with my darned matches youngun! You’ll burn the house down!” The pony stopped, tapping his chin with a hoof. “No, that’s not it…” Clarence laughed at him, getting a smile out of the stallion. “But really, we’re safe here. We got two mages in the tree and four scanning the fields for life signs. Nothing’s going to sneak up on us.” Clarence nodded, standing and holding his rifle by the grip.

“I'm gonna go take a leak then,” he said. “Hold down the fort for me. Kevin would kill me if he knew I left the squad, no matter the reason.” The pony nodded, rising from his seat and taking watch. Clarence turned towards the woods, walking across the grass. The journey took a few minutes, but soon he was secluded in the Everfree Forest. He was close enough to the edge that he could see the fields beyond, but far enough in that he would not be seen. He sighed, unbuttoning his pants and relieving himself. As he did his business, a feeling of dread began to creep up his spine. The hair on the back of his neck prickled, standing on end as he cut the stream, packing it away and buttoning his fly again. He dug into his pocket, pulling out a cigarette pack. He stood there with the death stick in his lips, searching his person for a lighter. “Dammit...” he said, pulling the pack back out as he realized he had no source of fire on his person.

“Here,” a smooth voice said, a green flame appearing and lighting the cigarette. Clarence withheld a shudder, pulling his knife from his vest and turning on the intruder. “Hello,” the pony he faced said. The pony was jet black, fleshy wings like a bat and green eyes that adorned their head, perched above a toothy and unsettling grin. “No need for that violence,” the pony said. “I only wanted to help you out. Let me introduce myself.” The pony, a stallion by the depth of their voice, laid aside a green crystal lined staff. “I am Bloodmoon, Thestrel. I have been chased by Changelings for the past week and I just lost them. I need your help getting somewhere safe.” Clarence rose from his crouch, still keeping his knife ready.

“How do you know I can help you,” he asked. “And I'm not saying that I can, but what makes you think that?” Bloodmoon pointed with a hoof out of the forest, indicating both the oak in the distance and the fallen manticore.

“I know the other of your kind killed that beast on his own,” he said. “I also know that you left this wood with seven unicorns. I am not asking for much, just for you to get me away from this forest. I was thinking that maybe your mages could send me to the west. I hear tell it is the only place the Changelings haven’t conquered.” Clarence debated the risks of exposing the operation, figuring the amount of flack he would catch for doing this.

“Alright,” he relented, his conscious getting the best of him. “You get one free ride. After this, don’t expect any help.” Bloodmoon nodded once, smiling his unsettling, wolfish grin again as he was led from the trees and into the fields.

“I really appreciate the help… I'm sorry I didn’t catch your name?”

“Lightbulb, call me that, everyone else does.” Clarence shifted his hold on his rifle.

“Well Lightbulb, thank you.” Clarence nodded blankly, his eyes catching something at the edge of the forest before him. He checked closer, directing his eyes to the object of interest. He turned away from his chosen path, crouching near the corpse of a pony. It was jet black and had the wings of a bat, just like…

A searing pain filled his chest, his breath catching before he looked down. From the center of his vest protruded a hoof, ridden with holes and gleaming with its own black sheen. The end was shaped like a dagger, pointed like a spear and a steely shine in the moonlight.

“However, as you can see I am dead,” The voice was less than smooth now, sounding like a cockroach’s hiss mixed with the sound of sand shifting over thin metal. It flowed like bitter honey, reaching his ears many times before ending slowly. “So I thought I could just, borrow you for a few minutes.” The changeling placed his emphasis with both words and a twist of his jagged hoof, his appendage shredding his lungs and nearly touching his heart. “Hmm… Do you taste that,” The bug asked, leaning in and licking the air beside Clarence’s field of narrowing vision. “Pain, Fear, Regret; such a delectable mix of emotions. Whom did you leave behind without telling them something huh? A female you loved, your parents perhaps? Such a shame you will never see them again. You are too trusting Lightbulb, so naïve and childish.” The bug pulled its hoof free of Clarence's chest, shredding his heart on the way through. “Good bye,” The bug said, rolling him over the reveal himself, smiling and smoking a cigarette. “And thanks for the smoke.” Clarence latched onto the impostor’s collar as he insulted him with his own voice, silently snarling through clenched teeth as he pulled himself up from the ground.

“You won’t last the night,” he said silently, mouthing the words. “I hope you take one to the gut and get left to rot in the sun.” The bug smirked, blowing smoke in the man’s face before brushing his fist from his collar.

“Yes, that’s all well and good,” he said, turning and locating the rifle he was supposed to be carrying. “But I highly doubt your friends will catch one of the most well trained espionage agents the Queen has.” He tipped his helmet, putting on the goofy grin Clarence used. “Good bye.”

…

Earth, ~~REDACTED~~, ~~REDACTED~~ County Taiwan, February 20, 2022…

Wraith Commander Thomas Malory, Five foot eleven, Two hundred pounds and soaking wet, stalked silently through the dense forest of the Asian countryside, his wetsuit and BPV soaked throughout. In his hands was a silenced, shortened ACR, a Heartbeat sensor attached to the side rails, a thermal scope on the top rail and finger hovering just off the trigger. He had been following a Chinese weapons dealer for the past six hours, attempting to get a line of sight on the target as he walked through his safe house. He lifted a hand to his throat, pressing the advanced coms system to his larynx. “This is Phantom, I have located Chen. Sending feed to you now.” He pressed a button on his vest, raising his rifle and sighting the thermal silhouette of the target. “Target lit, fire when ready.”

“Specter copies Phantom,” the reply came, his teammate a mile away with a Barrette XM500 deployed and loaded, lining up the shot with his advanced targeting computers. “I have the target. Calculating adjustments now...” The five nine man, shrouded in an active camouflage cloak and loaded with hardened, waterproof electronics adjusted his hold on the bullpup rifle, following the display on his monocle to line up the trajectory of the fifty caliber round. He shifted by micrometers. “Taking the shot,” Specter said, squeezing the trigger and met with pressure in his shoulder. The round tracked as it went, Phantom receiving feed of the bullet on his own monocle before it impacted the wooden walls of the house. He watched through his thermals as a white cloud bloomed from the silhouette’s head, the glowing figure falling to the ground.

“Solid hit, target eliminated.” Phantom changed channels, hailing the USS McKinley. “This is team three calling Base. Target eliminated, awaiting extraction.” He turned on his heel as the lights blossomed in the house, digging his way through the undergrowth and trees. He would meet up with Specter in a clearing two miles south of the safe house, where upon a Nightingale stealth chopper would pick them up and return them to the McKinley, the most technologically advanced Super Cruiser in the U.S Navy.

…

Kevin worked his way through the tunnels of the caves, having sent his squadron back through the way they came. He wasn’t alone by choice however; circumstances had forced him to separate; namely the Barrier keeping him on one side of the cavern while his squad was on the opposite side. He stopped at an intersection, looking down each of the three new tunnels. He shone a flashlight down each one, the darkness beyond swallowing the light. ‘Gotta find a way out,’ he thought, pulling his glove off and coating a finger in saliva. He held it before each tunnel, hoping to catch a lick of fresh air from one. This plan had helped lead him to this intersection, like so many before, following the wind. This time was different however, the air refusing to aid his navigation. “Well shit,” he said flatly, a bemused expression on his face. He took off his cap, rubbing his head and blowing air through his lips. “I’m lost…” He put his cap back on, staring at the tunnels in turn.

Minutes passed like this, Claustrophobia settling into the back of his head. He was fidgeting, chewing his lip, scratching his arm, bouncing his heel off the floor... all the signs of a mental break coming on. “Gotta get outta here, gotta get outta here…” He repeated the phrase like a mantra, the words not helping his situation as he continued to turn around in the three by three intersection. He stopped, staring down a tunnel into the black at the end. Slowly he calmed, his breathing relaxing, ticks and twitches ceasing as a sweet and melodic tune filled his ears. It seemed to be coming from his own skull, the sound familiar but also alien. He went to step, stopping himself in hesitation of what lay beyond before the sound doubled in volume, bolstering his confidence and urging him forward.

…

Latitude ~~REDACTED~~, Longitude ~~REDACTED~~, Sea of China.

“McKinley, this is Nightingale two, on approach.”

“Nightingale two, McKinley. Approach verified, you have the deck.”

“Rodger McKinley, my deck.” Phantom looked up from the floor of the Nightingale’s bay, watching out of the windshield as the tower of the McKinley came into view. The ship was massive, the largest in the world. It was an Aircraft carrier for STOVL jet aircraft, Ospreys and Choppers like Seahawks and Nightingales. However, the reason it was massive was hidden below deck. Below and behind the seventeen inches of armored plating and four separate hulls lay 36 inch guns, enough Nuclear ICBMs to level the world, Cruise Missiles that could flatten New York state and enough Sailors and Marines to invade all of Asia. “Welcome home boys,” The pilot shouted over his shoulder. “It is oh-three-hundred on the pacific coast back home. Chow is being laid out in the mess as we speak, so if you want a hot meal, you might want to pass up your shower until you eat. Also, today is my daughters seventh birthday! I just thought I would put that out there.” Phantom nodded once, gripping the hand guard of his ACR tight, the rails pressing grooves into his palms. Landings always did this to him, increased blood pressure, elevated heart rate, muscle ticks and nearly uncontrollable shaking. It was odd, the Elite of the Elite, a Commander of Wraith, the US black operations group, had a fear of flying.

“Nightingale two, McKinley. We have a thirty-mile per hour wind shear on the deck. Correct before landing.” The pilot sighed, making the manual adjustments. He was cool as ice in his maneuver, his faith in the bird based off the advanced avionics the stealth craft possessed.

“Hey Thomas,” Specter said, waving him over to the open port door. “Come take a look at this.” Phantom stood in the craft, remaining hunched over as he navigated the maze of overhead handles and fluid pipes in the five-foot high bay. “Something’s up with her deck.” Phantom held onto a handle above the door, leaning out and looking directly down. The deck below them was as black as usual, the floodlights shining off the sheeting water the rain that drenched the McKinley in. However, Specter was right. While the water sheeting toward the drains was shining with the floodlights, there was too much ambiance. The light had no real direction, seeming not to be reflected, instead being emitted from the water.

“Nightingale two, wave off! EM reading, expecting massive pulse! Wave off, Wave off!” The pilot pulled up on the altitude control hard, jinking up and right to avoid the tower and put some distance between them and the ship. Phantom clenched his hand around the handle, tensing his body subconsciously as he felt gravity pull him to the left, inertia trying to throw him from the open door.

“Captain, EM reading has peaked. Burst in three!”

“All hands brace for list!”

“EMP is on us sir!”

A bright green flash filled the area, the McKinley vanishing behind the blinding light as Phantom covered his eyes with his left hand, the silencer on his rifle banging against the ceiling of the chopper bay. Minutes passed like this, the sensation of the chopper climbing higher and turning about, moving forward at full speed. The light continued to bleed through his closed eyes, the glaring red nearly blinding him through his natural shutters. As the light faded, Phantom risked opening his eyes, tentatively lowering his arm. His jaw dropped slightly as he beheld the area around and below them, the open and roiling ocean having been replaced with a range of mountains, the violet stone capped in white, rain sheeting down on the bird as if nothing had changed.

“Where are we,” he asked aloud. Specter shook his head, staring dumbstruck out the bay door as the range opened into rolling hills.

…

Kevin exited the tunnel into another cavern like the last, halting his progress mere inches from the tunnel. He pulled a ball from his pocket, tossing it forward with a backwards spin; he was in no hurry to be thrown and trapped again. The ball sailed on its arc, firing back with twice the force it had been thrown with and nailing him in the chest. “Interesting,” he said, walking to the barrier and laying his gloved hand on it. The force field was warm, sending a tingling sensation through his skin and up his arm. The tingling rested in his chest, making each breath odd but not uncomfortable. “How do I get past you…” He muttered, looking around the area.

“You don’t,” a regal and firm voice said from the other side, startling Kevin and causing him to back away, raising his rifle. “Calm yourself,” the voice said, a shadow twitching beyond the barrier, taking the form of a thin and tall unicorn. The shadow moved, wings appearing on its back before the darkness turned to smoke, writhing over the figure, floating down its slim body and lithe legs before color graced its form. Eyes formed on its head, glowing a bright azure set sternly in the midnight blue of its coat. Upon its breast was a cuirass of black, translucent metal, a crescent moon emblazoned in the purest silver set into the center of the plates. Upon its hooves were silver, ankle high shoes, the articles covering the winged unicorn’s hooves completely before tapering off into Fleur-de-lis and stars. “Welcome to my shelter, my hide. I am Luna, brave soldier. Tell us of thine name and title.” Kevin slowly lowered his rifle, his amaze hidden behind a passive and hardened face.

“Corporal Kevin J Green of the United States 75th Ranger Battalion,” He said with a sense of professionalism, keeping the desire to squeak at meeting Luna hidden away. “I’m here to get you out of the caves and back to a secure and hidden bunker some miles away. There is a Resistance force fighting to restore you and your sister to the throne, and overthrow-“

“Yes yes, we already know this,” She said, using the royal tense. “We wish to know now why it is you, Kevin Green, have come to meet our call. We sent our signal of distress to another, one whose mind was blank.”

“Alison,” he said, cutting her off. At this point, he didn’t care about the story. She was the High Value Target, and he had to get her out. “She woke up and told Silvermane about your hiding place. Come on, I have to get you out of here and back to the bunker.” Luna put on a blank face, nodding once before stepping out of her protective bubble. Kevin took his place before her, acting like a living shield if anything came at them. “Stay behind me, stay low, stay quiet.”

…

“What took you so long,” A unicorn asked as the changeling in Clarence’s body walked close to the tree. “You took your sweet time to take a simple piss.” The imposter waved a hand at him, dismissing him.

“I went too far back into the trees,” He said, hoping his information on the body he possessed was good enough to brush past unnoticed. “Got turned around on my way out.” The unicorn stared at him for a moment, shrugging before looking away and resuming his watch. The imposter smirked after he was past the guard, observing every detail of the area. In the shade below the tree were four ponies; three unicorns and an earth pony. Inconspicuously, he turned his view to the branches, finding two more unicorns in the tree, staring out over the rolling hills, heads panning from side to side as they kept their own midnight vigil.

“What are you looking at Lightbulb?” The changeling turned his head toward the new voice, an Earth Pony stood nearby, gaze fitted upward. “See something?” The imposter shook his head.

“No, just… Looking up I guess.” The pony nodded, looking back at the imposter.

“When I told you to look up more often, I didn’t mean literally,” The pony smiled kindly, the changeling responding in kind. “What kept you? Have trouble getting the stream flowing?”

“I got turned around in the trees,” He responded, using the believable lie. “I went too far in and forgot how to get out for a moment or two. Any word from the others?” He had no idea what was going on, but he knew it had to do with those in the caves.

“Not yet,” The pony said, shaking his head. “It’s been a few hours, so I'm starting to worry. I heard a gunshot, but that was it, so they weren’t attacked.” The pony looked back at the cave, the tree out of the sight from beyond the mouth of the hole in the mountainside. “They might have gotten turned around and lost though. This might have gone wrong too easily.” The changeling nodded, stealthily checking the weapon he was holding. The device was different from the usual rifles, being suited for the body he now wore, though the mechanisms were the same. There was a bolt, a receiver, an odd handle on the front rails and a strange type of optical aid on the top. On the muzzle was a long cylinder, but its purpose the changeling could not deduce. All of this information processed in a fraction of a second, quickly enough for him to return his view to the caves and not be suspected of odd activity. “Anything in the trees? I thought I heard something, but I wasn’t sure.” The changeling’s blood went colder than usual, fearing he had been found out. He shifted his free hand to his waist, finding the handle of a knife there.

“No, I did however get somewhat frightened by the corpses left behind. Odd how things change in the dark, eh?” The pony raised an eyebrow, giving him a suspicious look. ‘Rectal Excrement,’ the changeling thought. ‘He’ll start to talk with the others. Time to act fast.’

“Yeah…” the pony said curiously. “I also didn’t know you possessed such a broad vocabulary. But whatever. I'm gonna go check up on the other watches.” The changeling nodded once, the pony turning around. In an instant, the changeling drew the knife, quickly lunging and planting the blade into the pony’s temple. The pony shuddered once, jaw clamping shut before falling to its knees, kicking out its back hooves and releasing a long and wet sigh, lying on the ground, dead. The changeling held a horrifically gleeful face, drawing the blade and smearing the side across his face, coating the white skin in red.

“What the…” The changeling turned around, throwing the knife and embedding it between the eyes of a unicorn, directly below his horn. The process was quick, the unicorn kicking once and flipping over onto his back, tumbling once before ceasing to move. The changeling drew the blade from the unicorn’s skull, looking to the left to see another unicorn staring at him in fear and surprise. The changeling lifted his rifle in the unicorn’s direction, pulling the trigger. The rifle expelled ten shots before he released his grip on the trigger, joyously surprised by the fact he was faced with.

‘Automatic firing mechanisms,’ he thought happily. ‘These beings are quite advanced.’ he looked up as a pony gasped, having heard the sound of the round casings clattering on the ground.

“Changeling, Changeling in Lightbulb’s skin!” The changeling dropped the knife, wrapping his hand around the vertical grip and taking precise aim at the unicorn, firing three rounds into his chest. The unicorn fell from the branch he was on, the changeling spying a green ball of energy directed at him; he rolled to the right, dodging the projectile, firing from the ground at the last remaining unicorn. He emptied the remaining seventeen rounds into the unicorn, the branch snapping and falling with the corpse upon it. The changeling searched his person, finding no bullets. There were several items that resembled the box attached to the receiver of the rifle, but he knew they were not the same.

…

Location: UNKNOWN. Time: UNKNOWN. Altitude: 2500 METERS AND DECREASING.

“Suit up boys,” The pilot said over his radio, getting Specter and Phantom’s attentions. “I’m putting her down for a moment. I need to run a diagnostic to make sure we missed that EMP.” Specter and Phantom nodded, each lifting a gasmask with round goggles and placing it on their heads. Over this, they placed their helmets, covering those with Reactive Camouflage hoods. They did a quick systems check, making sure their heads up displays projected right on the goggles and their reactive camo was fully functional.

“Green across the board for us,” Specter said, giving the pilot a thumbs-up. “Put her down when you find a good spot. We’ll make a perimeter of one click in all directions for you.” The pilot circled the area once, finding a flat plot of land, a depression in the center of a ring of hills. He operated the altitude controls, adjusting the stick as the craft descended, maneuvering through the sheers its rotors kicked up against the hills. Phantom released the latch on the door, Specter sliding it back and readying his M110, holding it off to the side. The craft touched down, the wheels rising on the suspension. Phantom and Specter stepped out, scanning the area as they enforced a perimeter if the hill tops around them. “Current area clear. Moving to enforce full kilometer radius now.” Specter nodded to Phantom, the pair setting off in different directions.

…

Kevin looked around the junction, checking the walls for the chalk marks the teams were placing as they went. There was one arrow, pointing into a tunnel. “So they did listen. Good,” He touched the chalk design, turning his head back and motioning with his neck for Luna to follow him. She nodded once, following as he stepped off into the tunnel. “How did you end up in here,” he asked, his goggles giving of their minute eerie glow as they enhanced the ambient light from the crystals.

“In the fight, we…” she halted, cutting herself off. Her voice fell a few decibels, her tone less authoritarian and kinder. “I was thrown by Chrysalis from the hall of records. I fell to the ground below, crawling into the cave beside me. I had dislocated my foreleg, hip and wing in the landing, so it was no easy feat. Once into the mouth of the cavern, I fixed my injuries. As I recovered for a span, I noticed Changelings flying to the city from the mountain beyond the fields outside. I knew I would be found if I stayed in the opening, so I ventured deeper. I set traps in the larger sanctuaries, meant to trap anypony that wandered in. then I found the cavern you found me in, and sealed it so no pony could get in without my permission. I kept time by singing, each time I finished the song tenfold, I would venture into the caves to see if the traps had ensnared an innocent, or dispatch the hostile seeker. I was two cycles from exiting my sanctuary when you appeared.” Kevin nodded, ducking a low point in the tunnel before reaching another junction. Three of the four tunnels had large X marks on their walls, meaning they had already been followed and backtracked. Kevin took the one that lead out, the chalk arrow pointing up, denoting the sky was that way.

“How did you sustain yourself,” Kevin asked, leading her out of the caverns. “The fight of Canterlot was nearly a year ago. As far as I can see, this cave doesn’t grow anything edible.” Luna’s reply was quick, and slightly more joyful than it should have.

“Mushrooms,” she said too happily. “The cavern I was in had several varieties that are edible.” Kevin nodded once, thinking she had eaten the wrong ones one too many times. Ahead he could spot the light of the moon, a large blot in the darkness.

“Well, princess, we’re almost out of here. We just have to…” a quiet whistling sound caught his ears, the jangle of brass on stone following it. A few yells and a call for help followed them, the ticking of the chamber of an automatic weapon proceeding it. “Oh hell…” Kevin silently ordered Luna to stay put, the princess nodding as he quietly stalked to the edge of the tunnel. In the mouth of the cave were the bodies of the unicorn company he had left as guards, the mute team leader laying on his side, clawing his way slowly toward the tunnels, blood trailing him. Clarence came into view, Kevin crouching back into the shadows as his teammate planted his boot on the unicorn’s neck.

“Scream you damned pony,” he said coldly, lifting his rifle and placing the end of the silencer against the unicorn’s horn, firing and breaking it off. The pony winced, heaving air through his mouth. “I said scream you pathetic thing. SCREAM!” he ended the sentence with rage in his voice, getting a cold glare in return. “Suit yourself,” he said, placing two rounds in the unicorn’s chest, effectively ending his life. Clarence looked up from the dead unicorn, looking at the three tunnels. He looked directly at Kevin, changing his view a moment later to another. “That’s two teams. Now, there is the third and fourth…” Kevin watched as Clarence removed the magazine from his rifle, tossing the apparently empty container away and reaching for another. He had to subdue him, and this was his chance, he pulled down his goggles, letting them hang around his neck before charging from the tunnel, he rammed his left shoulder into the insane comrade, knocking him over.

“Stand down soldier, that’s an order!” Clarence looked up at him, slightly stunned but recovering quickly. He lifted his legs, planting his hands on the ground behind him and pushing off, kicking out and landing both feet flat on Kevin's chest, knocking him back three feet and too the ground. Kevin rolled back, getting his feet under him and rising to a crouch. “I said stand down Clarence!” Clarence laughed at him, reaching for another magazine and pulling it from his tactical vest. Kevin growled and closed the short distance, punching him full force in the bridge of his nose. He kicked him with the flat of his boot as Clarence staged back, catching him on the collar and knocking him over. Kevin placed his boot on Clarence's chest, keeping him pinned. “What the fuck is wrong with you Lightbulb,” He demanded, pulling his foot off and jumping back as Clarence swiped at him with his knife. This wasn’t just a mental break; Clarence was officially Section Eight. “God dammit, Private… Drop your weapon and you walk out of this alive!” Kevin drew his tomahawk, holding it ready to swing above his shoulder, lowered into a more ready stance.

“I’ll be walking out of this anyway,” Clarence said, his voice more throaty and chilling than it had been just hours before. “I'm here to kill all of you, no matter the sacrifice.” He lunged at Kevin, Kevin dodging the stab and bringing his axe down. The blade landed on Clarence's shoulder, severing the limb. Clarence stepped back a few paces, holding his stump. “Idiotic creature,” he growled before his stump exploded in a spray of violet, a cylindrical, black protrusion forming before turning into a human arm.

Kevin shook off the horror, readying himself to continue the fight. This wasn’t Clarence, this was something parading in his skin and committing atrocities with his name. Clarence lunged at him, provoking a dodge and another swing. He ducked this, spinning to the right and kicking Kevin in the gut, knocking him down and forcing him across the smoothed floor of the cave. Kevin clutched his stomach, the kick having broken one of his floating ribs. “Fuck this…” Kevin drew his side arm, taking aim at Clarence. He pulled the trigger, a hole forming in Clarence’s chest before it reached him, passing through harmlessly. “Dammit…” Kevin lay back down, rolling over and standing up, using a stalactite for leverage.

“You think you can kill me with your guns? Bah,” Clarence walked up to the panting and pained soldier, placing his knife against Kevin’s spine. “Any last words before I kill you, human?” Kevin sighed, shaking his head. “Well then, at least you face death with honor.” Kevin braced himself, closing his eyes and waiting for the end. Instead of what he expected, there was a wet sound, a strangled grunt and the sound of a falling body, the clatter of steel on stone following short after.

“Sir Kevin, are you alright?” Kevin opened his eyes, turning to find Luna staring concernedly at him. Off to her left was a changeling, a spike of stone protruding from its chest, painted purple with gore. “Sir Kevin, are you whole?” Kevin shook his head, sitting down and holding his knees, the adrenaline bleeding off.

“Y-yeah… I'm in one piece…” he located his pistol, placing it shakily back in its holster. “Do you know where my rifle ended up?” He stared at the floor between his feet, the fact that he had been awake for nearly ninety-six hour finally catching up to him. His rifle came into view before him, Luna’s Dark blue aura surrounding it. “Thank you.” He took the weapon from her, the feeling of static crawling over his skin fading as she released it. The sound of flapping wings reached his ears, his action response kicking in, causing him to rise to his knees and take aim at the tunnels. He followed a black Pegasus with his rifle as they flew from the tunnel, lowering his weapon as it turned out to be friendly.

“We hear gunfire,” Dash said, landing before him as the remainder of her squad came into view, moments later being followed by his squad, having regrouped in the tunnels and headed out. They gasped as the scene came into view, staring at the corpses of their friends. “What happened?” Kevin held up a hand, trying to stand but being denied by his fatigue. Dash leant him a shoulder, helping him to his feet.

“We can cover that later,” he walked to the edge of the cave, leaning against the entrance. “Get their tags, leave the bodies. We can’t carry them back; we’re walking out of here.”

…

Location: UNKNOWN. Time: UNKNOWN.

“Tom,” Specter said over his radio, lying down on a hill, cloaked and focused on something with his riflescope. “I got something here.” Phantom looked up the hill, seeing Specter waving him up. Her jogged up the hill, crouching and activating his active camouflage. “Get your eyes out. You’ll want to see this.” Phantom turned slightly, pulling a pair of enhanced binoculars from a pouch on his belt and lifting them to his eyes. “The cave directly ahead, is that a boot?” He located the cave in question, watching as a human soldier, clad in blacked gear and a pair of night or dark goggles around his neck. Walked haggard from the dark in the cave, leaning against the entrance. Phantom turned on his Infrared light, shining it on the soldier. A patch on his shoulder lit up, revealing an American flag, as well as a Corporal’s patch.

“Yeah, he’s clear.” Phantom lowered his binoculars, staring out over the hills. Something was stranger than it should have been. Other than the fact that they were in an area akin to Germany or France instead of over the Sea of China, there was an itch in the back of Phantom’s mind, like something that just did not sit right with the soldier they had found. He raised his binoculars, watching as the soldier plucked a stalk of grass from the ground, chewing on it while fiddling with a flip lighter in his hand, stimulating his oral fixation from smoking. The shadows moved behind him, a small and black horse walking out of the case and into the light of the moon. It seemed to hold itself with an air of intelligence, its head held high and looking around the area like a human would. What surprised Phantom, however, were the wings upon its back. The extensions were around six feet long each, folded against its sides, a strange looking rifle across its back. The horse looked to the soldier, its mouth moving as if it was speaking. The soldier nodded, saying something in return. The soldier lifted his hand to his chest, activating his radio, which Phantom and Specter heard.

“General Silvermane, this is Corporal Green. We have the package, but we have lost our ride out. Anything you can do for us from the bunker?” The radio went silent, another voice returning a moment later, the soldier pressing his headset into his ear to hear more clearly.

“Sorry Kevin, but we are blind here. Good work on getting her out. I can send out another mage team, but you are going to have to meet them half way. Any casualties on your side of the territory?” Phantom looked to Specter, both exchanging looks that asked question about why an American soldier was here.

“Affirmative. We have lost both teams three and four to a changeling that…” The soldier stopped, placing a hand over his eyes and sitting on the ground. “The damned thing took out Clarence and used his skin and rifle to take them all out. He is on a shoot to kill order now General.”

“Roger Wilco. Grab their tags and have any mage’s you still have bury the bodies. They will not be forgotten. RTB when you finish. Silvermane out.” Phantom lowered his binoculars, looking at Specter.

“Are we in fucking Wonderland?” Specter shrugged, nodding at the same time for a definite maybe.

“You’re thinking of breaking Silence to get an ear on our Yankee.” It wasn’t a question, but Phantom nodded anyway. “It’s your call Phantom. You’re still in charge of this flight.” Phantom nodded again, standing and pulling a flare from his vest, turning on his radio and placing it on an open broadcast channel.

“This is Commander Thomas Malory of the United States Wraiths calling out to the American standing before the cave. Direct your view,” he glanced at the compass on his wrist, finding he was east of the cave. “Direct view east for green flare.” He pulled the cap, lighting the stick and holding it high, waving it back and forth over his head slowly, deactivating his camouflage.

…

“This is Commander Thomas Malory of the United States Wraiths Calling to the American soldier standing before the cave, Direct View east for green flare.” Kevin listened for anything unordinary as the message repeated, turning his head right and spotting the flare, a man in a gasmask and hood waving it slowly.

“Commander Sir. How did you end up here?” Kevin tapped Dash on the shoulder, directing her view to the flare. “I’m coming to you sir. I have a guest.” He started off, turning slightly to wave Dash forward. They ran the distance, Kevin out of breath half way, Dash noticed this, taking wing and wrapping her hooves around his chest, doubling her efforts and lifting him from the ground, carrying him the remainder of the way. She slowed as they neared the area, setting Kevin down before landing beside him, Kevin saluting his superior as dictated by protocol and regulations. “Corporal Kevin J Green of the 75th Rangers.” Phantom saluted him back, ordering him at ease.

“Kevin Green, that name’s familiar…” He thought on the subject, Specter de-cloaking and lifting himself from the ground.

“He’s part of the MIA group in the Blackhawk fiasco out in Afghanistan.” Specter shook Kevin’s hand. “Commander Gregory Hawkins, Wraith sniper.” Kevin nodded, looking past them, spying a Nightingale below them. “You have any idea where we are Corporal? Looks like Hungary or eastern Germany from the geography.”

“Not even close sir, but I can’t tell you right now. It’s compartmentalized Tier Zero. I'm not allowed to tell anyone except the President herself.” Phantom gave him a look, wondering what he was at. He had access to anything he needed or wanted to know, and he knew Ranger’s did not get Tier Zero level assignments. “Is your bird operational Sir?” Specter nodded, taking over.

“We caught the flanks of an EMP over the Sea of China. Pilot is looking at everything to make sure nothing is damaged. Mind telling me why you have a mythological flying horse with you?”

“Hey, if you got a question for me, you can ask me about it.” Phantom and Specter both backed away a few step quickly, raising their weapons at Rainbow Dash.

“Did that thing just speak?” Phantom stared at it, keeping his ACR aimed at its eye.

“Yeah,” She said, turning toward Phantom and glaring at him. “I can talk, and I'm not a ‘thing’, I'm a pegasus. My name is Rainbow Dash, Commander Rainbow Dash of the Equestrian Resistance Force.”

“She’s friendly sir,” Kevin said, pushing the barrel of Phantom’s ACR down, holding up a hand to Specter. “We don’t need another Moscow happening here. Please, put them down.” Phantom looked to Kevin, slowly lowering his rifle away from the pony and nodding to Specter. Specter followed his lead, slinging the M110 across his back and placing his hand on a USP .45 on his hip. “How much weight can that Bird carry? I have fifteen natives to evacuate before they get slaughtered.”

Author's Note

SO! Chapter 5 is finally up. Apologies for the prolonged wait, but I will say it may be my best one ever. If you read my blogs, you will know why it’s late, and if not, lemme tell ya.

I’ve spent the last month flirting with my boyfriend. Deal yo.

So here it is. As usual, leave you likes and dislikes, comments and criticisms, Fav it, give it a thumbs up or down.

Chapter 1: Times Have Changed...

Twilight sat in the doorway of her library, staring out into the street as the procession passed by, the glinting green armor of the Changeling Royal Guard casting a sickly glow across the area as the sun beat down upon their unfeeling bodies. This had been the monthly routine for the last year; ponies lining the streets and filling their doorways to observe the insectile display of power not out of love or awe but fear and subservience. It had gone down during her brother’s wedding, Princess Mi Amore de Cadenza revealing herself after the vows to be Queen Chrysalis, Monarch of the Changeling hive. The Elements of Harmony, Shining Armor, even the princesses were unable to defeat her at that point, their chance having come and gone unnoticed as they were caught in the moment.

She sighed for the umpteenth that day as the procession passed by, the wicked ruler Chrysalis carried in the center of the parade by her servants and now hidden behind the corner of a convenience store. Twilight let her frame sag in hopelessness, her ears falling limp as her head descended toward the floor, her nose brushing the wooden doorstop before she decided to take a step back and shut the solid portal. She was beyond depressed; not even Starswirl the Bearded’s Tome of Unconventional Experimentation Spells, a very rare book, could not lift the haze of sadness from her mind. She resolved to trudge along on her life, as cut down and repressed as it now was, day to day under the new regime.

She walked back into the Library’s center room, lifting a duster from the table with her magic and setting out again against the dust bunnies that coated her books. She trudged along with the task, blindly going through the motion as Spike descended the stairs from the bedroom they shared. He yawned expansively, scratching a patch of scales on his rump as he rubbed sleep from his eyes. “Morning Twilight,” he mumbled, making his way toward the kitchen. Twilight grunted in response, her view never leaving the floor as she returned the duster to the table from whence it came. Spike stopped short of the door to the kitchen, looking over his shoulder at the lavender unicorn. “What’s got you in a funk?” he asked in a not-too-unkind tone. Twilight shrugged as best her state would allow.

“First off, it’s nearly noon,” she stated blankly, walking to her writing desk and shuffling the papers into a neat stack. “Second, the Power Parade just finished their tour of Ponyville.” Spike grew sullen as she mentioned the Changelings, forgetting the kitchen and dragging his feet up to her side. “How did this happen?” she asked, as she had every month. Spike gave her a hug, silently comforting his guardian as sadness overtook her. “Shining Armor… Cadence… mom and dad… Why did they have to… to…” She broke, tears falling from her glistening eyes as violent sobs racked her body. Spike said nothing, and how could he? He had never lost anyone, and the mare in his claws had just lost her family and foal sitter, all in one night.

The sound of sobs was interrupted as the door was slammed open violently, the crack of wood striking wood and the shattering of a vase announcing the arrival of visitors. The duo looked at the door to find a group of ten ponies of mixed races striding into the room with rough expressions and hostile body language. “Hey Twilight,” the Cyan pegasus mare she had once known as Rainbow Dash said as she closed the door behind the group, drawing the curtains closed with a wing as she turned around. “How have ya been?” Her voice was raspy, quiet and in all completely different from what it had been four months ago.

“About as well as I could be I suppose,” she said, sniffling and wiping her nose on a hoof. “How did the operation go,” she counter questioned, concern heavy on her voice as she counted their number; they were three short.

“Not good,” Dash said, her eyes sunken in and hardened. “We lost Thunderlane, Sparks and Keen Edge in the raid. On top of their deaths, we didn’t even make a dent in their forces,” She tilted a book from the shelves with a hoof, the shelf turning to reveal a secluded passageway that lead down under the library. She ushered the group inside, their half-plate armor jangling in a quiet clamor against their prototyped weapons; rudimentary repeating firearms and explosive crossbow bolts. “You want to join in this time?” she asked, Twilight nodding somberly before rising from her position and heading to her friend. Spike followed close to her heels, Dash stopping him with a hoof and a shake of her head. “Sorry Spike, but you’re still too young.” He was about to protest, but decided silently comply. Dash turned on her hoof, walking into the passageway and pulling a chain that closed the secret door behind her.

The area could be called a bunker of sorts, magically warded against any attack or attempt to excavate it. The room was filled with maps and tables, radios lined the walls and chirped with the chatter of Resistance fighters. Twilight stopped at the bottom of the stairs observing the room she had built for the resistance force for the first time since she had made the secret entrance. Several ponies, mostly Unicorns and Earth Ponies, were leaning over maps, documents, reports and encoded messages on tables and benches in the center of the large room. Farther back, directly from the stairs was an open door, the moans and muffled cries of wounded fighters in the medical chamber causing her to feel uneasy. To her left was a large, caged off area, the smells of sulfur, phosphorous and hot metals tainting the air around it until the magical purification systems kicked in, the air clearing five paces away from the cage. To the right was the radio stations, racks and cubbyholes filled with equipment transmitting, receiving or transferring communications and messages between the fighters and tactical assets.

Dash brushed past Twilight, breaking her from her observant stupor with a kiss on the cheek before she trotted up to the center table. Twilight flushed at the contact, unsure of what it meant as Dash unclasped her body plates, a unicorn assistant levitating the armor from her, leaving her in a canvas cloak stained throughout with sweat, dirt and blood; both from changelings and ponies. “Commander Dash,” a grayed and grizzled earth pony said from across the table, his eyes never leaving the map before him as he scrutinized its every inch. Dash grunted a response as she curled the hood of her cloak around her hoof, pulling it off and dropping the soiled garment on the ground before another levitated to her. She re-garbed in the deep green and brown garment, rearing up and balancing on the table and placing her hoof over a red circle. “Where is Commander Thunderlane?” The aging stallion asked.

“Elysium,” she replied, lifting her hoof from the map to leave a print on it. “But he knew the danger when he joined. Thanks to him, Sparks and Keen edge, we own the Everfree.” The stallion nodded slowly, placing a standing flag over the hoof print.

“They will not be forgotten,” he said somberly, lifting his gaze to meet Dash’s, his eyes just as haggard if slightly softer. “Take some time off Commander, you’ve earned it. Tell your ponies they are on furlough too.”

“They’ll be glad to hear it,” she said emotionlessly, returning to all fours and glaring at the map. The red and blue flags of the United Equestrian Resistance were far outnumbered by the green and black flags of the Changeling Empire; nearly fifty to one. “But I must decline the offer General Silvermane. There is still too much work to be done for me to relax. I’m requesting the next raid for my upcoming mission…”

“And I am telling you to take the furlough,” he intercepted, cutting her argument short. “That is an order Commander. Get a hot meal, get drunk, get laid… I don’t care. Just get out of this facility. I don’t want to see your flank for the next hundred and sixty-two hours and not a second sooner.” He returned his vision to the table, looking over an action report that had been given to him during their conversation. Dash saluted him, standing rigid and tall. A minute passed before he glanced up from the paper. “You’re still here?” he asked rhetorically, Dash dropping her hoof and turning to walk toward the medical wing.

Twilight watched the proceedings with interest, some of Dash’s team members being her friends. She was entirely engrossed in the report, cringing as Thunderlane, a pegasus she had grown to know in the past months, had been lost. She felt bad for the families of Spark, a unicorn mare, and Keen Edge, and earth pony stallion, knowing they would be sorely missed. Time flew as she listened, she found, because Rainbow Dash was walking away from the table. She had missed something, because Dash’s face was one of resignation and worry as she walked toward the medical wing. Her eyes were on the floor, but her face was hard set with determination and her ears flattened in frustration. Rainbow Dash stopped at the doorway to the wing, placing a hoof against the frame and looking halfway over her shoulder. Her eyes met Twilight’s, a moment that felt like an eternity before it faded like the lit of a fly, the pegasus disappearing into the wing with a ruffle of the privacy curtain. Twilight hesitated, battling her already scrambled mind to tell her which way to go. She turned toward the stairs, her hooves hesitating on their own above the step before she turned on her hooves, heading slowly toward the medical wing.

…

Applejack stared into her bowl of oatmeal, the spoon laying on the table next to the meal as she thought back on the year’s harvest. It had been meager, barely enough to fill their cellar for the winter, and she dreaded having to explain to the mayor that they didn’t have enough to go around this year. The bowl began to blur before her as she reflected, tears or anger welling in her eyes before she slammed a hoof on the table, knocking the bowl over and causing Applebloom, Big Mac and Granny Smith to start. “Darn it!” she growled through her teeth, standing up and storming out of the kitchen. She let the two-way door swing back behind her, rocking on its hinges as the sound of her hoof falls began to decrease in volume, being replaced by the slamming of the screen door. The Apples shared concerned and worried looks before Big Mac stood, nodded to the rest of them and followed her out.

Applejack stood on the porch of the farmhouse, her shoulder pressed against a support beam she was leaning against, her head thumping lightly on the wood as she slowly beat her aggression against the seasoned oak beam. ‘Why did this have to happen?’ she asked herself, staring out at the now barren orchard that once spanned to the edge of Ponyville. Ever since the Changeling Empire had taken over her trees had grown sick with blight and fungus, yielding less than half their normal crop this year. She had to cull nearly a quarter of her substantial amount of trees in order to keep the plant illness from destroying her families livelihood and food source. Sure they had their other fields, corn, wheat, barley and assorted beans, but it still wouldn’t be enough to feed the town like they had done for so long.

She hit her head against the beam again, hard enough to cause her ears to ring but not loud enough to conceal the sound of Big Macintosh’s heavy hoof steps. She twitched her eyes toward the large and imposing red stallion she called a brother, knowing he was immeasurably smart but tended to keep to himself. “Whaddaya want from me, Mac?” she asked briskly, her temper already heated and her mood fouled. The red work horse simply stood where he was, looking out over the fields. AJ sighed, placing a hoof to her head before relenting. “Alright, I’ll stop beatin’ myself up over this if you’ll just say what’s on yer mind.”

“That’s what I’m worried about AJ,” he said slowly, his draw long and voice vibrating her lungs even from a full two strides away. “You take so much responsibility for feeding the town, that you can’t stand to look out for just us every once and a while,” he sat on his haunches, pointing to the barn that lay half in ruin and still smoldering from the explosion that had racked it a week ago. “You know what they do to ponies who try to help other ponies now. These things don’t like us to help each other, and they are willing to take drastic measures to ensure that we remain miserable, so that every speck of love we feel will be amplified tenfold and make them even stronger.” AJ diverted her gaze to the barn, the once proud and tall red structure now in charred shambles from a changeling suicide raid. She shook slightly as the memories came back to her, the images of the crimson flames and the glowing bug eyes staring at her moments before chilling her to the core.

“That wasn’t because of us helpin' ponies, Mac,” she said, looking at the boards beneath her hooves. “It was because we supported the resistance. They knew this was a supply depot for em, an’ they took it out.” She sighed again, overwhelming sorrow sinking in further as she realized they had almost lost any hope of restoring the rightful rulers to the throne.

“But we were helping ponies nonetheless,” he rebutted, standing up and walking to her, placing a hoof around her neck and hugging her lightly. “We just gotta stay strong, pull through this and everything will be alright.” AJ nodded, nuzzling his neck before pushing him away gingerly.

“Yer just sayin' that,” she said, knowing he meant well.

“Eeyup.” AJ huffed in exasperation, shaking her head and righting her Stetson before walking off the porch.

“Ah guess I should go find whatever’s still burnin' in that dern place,” she said, filling the pail beside the pump with water. “We don’t need another darned inferno on our hooves." She picked up the pail in her mouth, turning to head for the source of the fire before she stopped dead in her tracks. The cellar doors were opened, uncommon as that was, but climbing the masonry steps that lead under the house was a pegasus she hadn’t seen in months. She dropped the bucket, running up the Cyan mare and hugging her with a force to snap a tree. “Rainbow, Ah’m so gald to see ya!” Dash stood stoic next to her friend, looking at the orange pony through the corner of her dampened and hard eyes.

“Hey AJ,” she said quietly, looking to the porch before waving to Big Mac. Applejack released her and gave her a worried look, not having remembered her the way she was. Dash looked to the decimated barn, sighing and looking back to her friend. “I heard about your barn,” she said, shaking her head slightly. “I'm so sorry we caused all of this for you.” Applejack gave her a strange look.

“What do ya mean we,” she asked, stopping herself as she saw the mare’s haggard face and the red stripe sliding down the cloak she wore. “R-Rainbow… What are y’all doin' wearin' that coat? That’s only for the resistance soldiers. You could get hurt fer wearin' that anywhere in Equestria.” Dash nodded slightly, her eyes staring through her as if she wasn’t there.

“I know, that’s why I’m wearing it,” She turned toward the barn, walking toward it slowly and deliberately. “I’m here to check the damage we caused for myself… Salvage anything of ours that can still be used… you know, protocol.”

AJ watched in something between shock and horror as what she pieced together stuck in her mind. Rainbow had joined the resistance, had been gone fighting for months…

And the way she just seemed to stare through everything. Like it wasn’t there…

This wasn’t the Rainbow Dash she knew…

...

Dash stood before a pile of soot in the demolished barn,searching with a keen eye as she blew the ash away with strokes from her wings. She wasn’t really looking for anything in specific in the wreckage, having lied to AJ to simply be alone for a while. She was surprised she had gotten away with the fib, AJ being the Element of Honesty and all. ‘Which one of us has changed since that day?’ she asked herself silently, the once brash, daring and headstrong pegasus now analyzing everything with a skeptical eye and monitoring anything that seemed dangerous. ‘Is it me?’ she asked herself as she uncovered a blackened radio from the ash, pushing it aside as she continued to to blow the soot away in her idle search.

Half an hour passed like this, Rainbow Dash silently spending her time in introspection and idly searching for charred equipment. She had uncovered a sword, radio, breastplates and several warped and half melted cans of what was once food. She sat on her haunches, observing her small pile of junk, the radio at the top as she fidgeted with the dials.

“How’s the static sound?” Somepony asked from the doorway to the barn, Dash almost jumping in surprise at the sudden voice. She looked up to find Twilight Sparkle leaning against the white doorframe, watching her with an unwavering gaze. “That is quite a treasure you found,” she said, righting her stance and walking into the shattered building. Dash shrugged and tossed the radio aside, starting a pile for what didn’t work or wasn’t worth keeping. Twilight came to a stop beside her, watching her as she sorted the junk.

Dash was slightly taller than when she had left to join the resistance, and Twilight noticed it now that she had some time to be nearby. Her mane and tail were longer as well, her wings more defined and regal looking, but covered in scars and scratches. Her body wasn’t any different either, her now hard and muscled frame covered in the scars of Changeling bites and one gnarled and knotted round scar on her shoulder. Looking up from her torso and legs, Twilight noticed Dash’s face. It had changed immensely from the devil-may-care, stunt-crazed mare she had known. Her jaw was more defined from lack of food and running off adrenaline, her cheeks more evident from the same reason. Her ears were nicked and split in several places; her left one having a loose flap of flesh that hung at an odd angle.

However, what she noticed the most were her eyes. The once shimmering and vibrant Magenta orbs that rested in her soft and happy face had become hardened, cold and void of the light that once filled them. They seemed to have lost their color, the once inviting shade having soured and become flat against the white and black that bordered them. Moreover, her pupils were wild, small and seemed dangerous, giving her the feeling that a predator was watching her.

Twilight noticed Dash was shuffling through the cans now, kicking them away with increasing force, her breathing quickened and sweat forming on her brow. Her teeth were clenched and her lips curled back into a snarl. “Rainbow Dash,” she called, her voice falling short into something one would expect from Fluttershy. Rainbow was starting to bend the cans with each strike, Twilight worried for her friend. “Rainbow dash!” she yelled, making herself known.

“I’m sorry!” Dash yelled back, sweeping the pile away with a hoof before stalking away into a shadowed corner. She sat down, beating a charred board with her hoof, venting some hidden tension she had harbored.

“What are you sorry for,” Twilight asked, too dumbstruck to move in the given situation. “You didn’t do anything.”

“I did Twilight,” Dash rebutted, looking at Twilight from the edge of the shadow. “I ran away when you all needed me. I…I heard there was a resistance force gathering to fight Chrysalis, to save Celestia and Luna from their prisons. I ran away to join them, and now I don’t…” She bit her words short, growling and head butting the wall before her. The area fell silent; the only sounds were the wind and the rustle of leaves on the round.

“Rainbow…” Twilight began, taking a step forward.

“When we were in the Everfree,” She said quickly, getting Twilight's attention again. “We were ambushed by changelings. They had us backed up against a cliff; dense trees overhead and in all other directions. They had the escape routes blocked off, weapons raised and advancing on us. I… I lost my cool. I gave the fire order when the tactical advantage was still a while away. We cut some of them down, but then they made the charge. That was when we lost Keen Edge; he took a spear through the chest. A hole opened in their attack and we took it. We ran into the forest for a more defensible location, and we lost Sparks. She got left behind…” Dash shuddered a tear falling from her cheek. “I can still hear her screams Twilight… I can hear all of them… I hear them all the time, screaming for help and for the pain to end…” Dash’s legs shook, her knees buckling and forcing her to the ground. “These things… when they want you dead, they take their sweet agonizing time to do it.” Twilight’s head dropped slightly as she continued her approach, walking closer to the pained pegasus before her.

“Thunderlane… He was the best of us that day,” she continued, forcing herself to relive the horrors. “He kept his head up until the end, leading us through the fight. We won it, clearing the forest of all the bugs, but on our way out we… I was jumped by one of them. Thunderlane leapt into action as I froze, taking the sword for me…” she slammed her hoof on the ground, breaking into sobs as she did. Twilight had never seen the mare in such a state, hurrying to her side and placing a hoof on her withers. Dash jerked slightly at the contact. Twilight drawing back slightly before Rainbow eased back to her, leaning against her chest.

“Rainbow…” Twilight shushed, laying down beside the distraught pegasus and wrapping a hoof around her. Twilight was caught off guard as the mare kissed her, locking her lips to hers firmly. Twilight blushed, nervous at the advance but not turning it away. Dash broke away slowly, casting her gaze to the unicorn before her to reveal softer eyes, reminding Twilight of days long gone.

“I realized that I haven’t told you a lot of things, Twi…” Dash said quietly, nuzzling Twilight’s neck softly. “Things I didn’t realize until I almost died… until I saw you in the library today.” She drew back a bit.

“Rainbow… What are you saying? You’re speaking in circles,” Twilight gave her a soft smile, putting as much of an honest face on as she could in the hard times. Dash looked down, staring at her hooves.

“Twilight… I love you,” she confessed. “I have since you gave me the Daring Doo book. I was afraid of telling you though, Afraid you would turn me away and hate me for it.”

“Why would I hate you,” she asked, slightly shocked Dash would mention the thought. “Well, I’ve never put much stock in romance, or even taking the time to decide my own preferences, but that doesn’t mean I would hate you for telling me how you felt! If you had I could have convinced you to stay, to not expose yourself to the horrors you’ve seen… you would still be the mare I used to know.” Dash dropped her head slightly, resign to admit she had changed so much.

“I know I’ve changed,” she said. “I noticed it for certain when Applejack almost ran scared from me earlier. Have I changed that much?” Twilight looked away, loath to tell her the truth.

“You’ve changed, that’s certain,” She said. “I almost didn’t recognize you in that get up when you walked into the library. I thought you were just another fighter coming to receive orders. You looked dangerous, wild even. It was like Rainbow Dash had died and was replaced with an animal.” She looked at the mare, finding her on the verge of tears again. Even though she had hardened on the outside, inside she was torn and fragile, a tempest of emotions and regrets threatening to break through the walls that had been built to hold it back. Dash looked away from her, ears drooping.

“You’re afraid,” she mumbled solemnly, her mane falling over her face. “I can’t blame you Twilight. When I walked into town, ponies ran up to us, but they took one look at me and turned away.” She stood up, Twilight’s hoof falling away as she took a step forward. “I’m sorry for putting you on the spot.”

Rainbow Dash wait,” Twilight blurted, stopping the mare before a sound drew both of their attentions. The radio Dash had found was hissing static, previously having been dead as a nail. A garbled voice echoed through the area, becoming clearer as it continued.

“Mayday, Mayday. Blackhawk down, I repeat Blackhawk down!” the pair turned to face the radio, confused by the transmission. Dash walked toward the device, tilting the speaker towards her with her hoof. “Blackhawk down! Can anyone hear me? We’ve crash landed in some sort of farm, we aren’t in Afghanistan. There are some sort of deciduous trees, and rotting corn husks.” The transmission went silent, the sound of a panic induced fatigue echoing forth. “I… I can’t remember my name, and the pilot is bleeding from her neck. We’re upside down, and the cockpit is filling with smoke. I can’t get out. Please, anyone, help me!”

“The farm,” Dash said to herself. “That’s the closest corn patch, and the only one that can reach this radio.” She turned on her hoof and galloped out of the doors, heading for the far side of the farm.

Author's Note

OK, first I would like to apologize to the moderator that received this for its first accidental submission, a certain midnightshadow. And I would like to thank him for his service to keep this site pony dedicated, along with all of the moderators.

Now I would like to get your feedback. All of you little bronies. Give it all. I want the props and the distastes on this one.