Battlefield: Causatum

by Obvious German

Rating: teen
Tags: Adventure, Crossover, Human, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Rainbow Dash, Original Character
Length: 20170

Battlefield 3 crossover. Rainbow Dash ends up in post-cataclysmic Iran.

"Causatum; situation following an event, occurence"

They say you can find the weirdest shit in Tehran, according to the US Force Recon Marines. Lieutenant M. Hershowitz and his remaining crew of three just happen to find one such anomaly that could be classified as 'weird shit' after a catastrophic earthquake, and it happens to be none other than a rainbow-maned, clueless, hotheaded and speedy pegasus from a child's show. But there's more to her arrival than it seems, as enemies seek to exploit the newcomer to the war-torn world.

Welcome to the aftermath of Iran, Rainbow Dash. Check your gear, strap up and get ready for one hell of a ride with Delta Squad.

Published 2013-03-03 15:40:02 UTC
Last updated 2013-07-25 16:25:12 UTC

Prologue

March 20th, 2014/

Tehran, Iran

2245 Hours,

The city lay quiet; one would’ve said it was a peaceful city that everyone would’ve gone to. But the actual reason why it was quiet was far out from the very definition of ‘peace’.

No, very far out. The voices of men speaking Iranian reverberated throughout the ghost city as they inspected each and every corner for their enemy.

The US Marines.

“Have you found them?”

“No, they seem to hide like the treacherous dogs they are.”

“Keep looking, anyone who tries to hide is to be shot on sight.”

Unknown to these well armed men, three dark and crouched figures slunk through the darkness. The flickering lights of dying street posts shone on them momentarily before they disappeared into the shadows. Elsewhere, someone had their sights dead on the Iranians.

“Golf Three here, clear for fire?”

“Negative Three, stay low until we’re clear for sync shot,” responded a shadowy man as the trio approached the surveying Iranians.

“We’re close enough boss, I think we should fire.”

“Good call. Get ready your weapons for contact and make sure they counts.” Their weapons slowly clicked and were slowly raised up to bear at the unaware Iranians.

“…Dead marine here! Too bad we cannot rescue this pitiful soul.”

“Be silent! If they can hear us they will run like the scampering pigs they are!” Two of them started chuckling at the joke before being shushed by the leader as he bent down to scavenge ammo from the dead soldier. Picking up a picture of this man with his wife, he dropped in on the ground and stomped hard on it in a show of disrespect, earning a loud cheer of one of his comrade.

Close by, the figures had their suppressed weapons aimed for the soldiers’ heads. “Fucker, that is pure fuckin’ disrespect right there for our boys.”

“That’s why we’re doing this.” The leader looked up into the sky, spotting the glare of a laser on the rooftop of a collapsed building not too far away.

“Take the one on the left, we’ll handle the others.”

“Got it,” The sniper’s weapon focused on one particular Iranian who was equipped to the max with an RPG and a AKS-74U.

“Ready?” He held out his fingers in the air, the others hesitated for the shot.

“Ready when you are, sir.” It was three seconds before he waved down his hand.

“Fire.” The muffled popping of bullets slammed into three unlucky soldiers who fell down silent and cold. The RPG Iranian looked at his dead comrades in fear before he raised his weapon up and cursed in Iranian. In a split second, his skull was caved out by a speeding fifty caliber from the sniper above.

All of them lay dead on the cracked tarmac, part of the graveyard of marines and wrecked vehicles. The city was still again, only populated by flickering lampposts that stood bent on the streets of this city.

“Good job boys, check the bodies and get some ammo, it’s going to be a while before we can set up camp.”

“On it,” A uniformed marine with a SMAW on his back nodded in response and got up. He sprinted over to the corpses of the Iranians and scoured their bodies for ammunition, procuring at least three compatible magazines and two grenades.

“Here’s some mags for ya’, boss.” He threw a magazine into the air, which the leader caught with considerable ease. Fitting it onto a free pouch in his ammunition strap, he tapped into the sniper’s communication.

“We’ve cleared out all hostiles in the vicinity, get your ass down here ASAP.”

“Got it, Hershowitz,” The sniper packed up his deadly M82 Barrett and quickly scuttled down from a ruined stairwell while the three soldiers stood over the dead soldiers.

“Fuckin’ bastards I tell ya that,” the marine gruffly commented as he crouched down to pick up the picture of the dead marine, his eyes still open. “Never deserved this shit,” He continued as he looked at his face and swept a hand over them, closing his eyes.

“Nobody did, Scott. The ‘quake was the last thing we expected from a routine scanning for these bastards.”

“I can tell ya that over and over again, Hershowitz. And nobody will fuckin’ care.”

“Scott, Delta wasn’t your fault. Just because we’re all that’s left of it doesn’t mean we’re dead,” Hershowitz responded as he checked his SCAR-L's, equipped with an EOTECH Holographic sight, a bipod and a laser sight, remaining rounds. “Anyway, my ammo’s normal. How ‘bout you guys?”

“My MG’s only missing one shot, sir.”

“Same for my gun, Hershowitz.”

The sniper had just gotten down with the soldiers and was pulling out a scavenged MP443 Grach he had retrieved from a slain Iranian soldier. “Fifty caliber is on its last few magazines. I guess that what happens if you hold a piece of expensive equipment in a place where only the poorest of soldiers are.”

“Don’t get your hopes down, the last I heard from Blackburn was that he was pinned down by a PLR 50. Cal due north and blew that fucker up sky high, but that place’s a goddamned rat’s nest.”

The sniper holstered his pistol and pulled out a canteen half full with water, drinking it thirstily.

“I’ll say, being in the SAS as a designated marksman has it’s advantages.” Scott waved for the sniper to hand him his canteen.

“Pass me that water, will ya?”

“Sure thing, bud.” He handed over the canteen as Scott reached out for it.

While feeling the warm tingle of water trickling down his parched throat, he took this time to ask something. “How long has it been since the ‘quake? My watch is broken.”

“Three days, get that fact in your skull, Texas.”

“Well fuck you too,” he said as he let out a refreshing breath and handed the water canteen back to the awaiting sniper. “Now that’s over, where we gonna camp for the night?”

Hershowitz scanned the environment and saw a burnt out mart labeled with ruined Iranian letters. “There,” he pointed to the store, the others turned their eyes at where he was talking. “Looks like a good place for the night, agreed?”

“Good idea, sir.”

“Sounds a-fuckin’ perfect, Hershes.”

“Anything will do, until the fuckery of High command sends either a Venom or a Blackhawk over to pick our sorry asses out of this place,” the sniper responded as he was the first of the group to move.

“Good to hear everybody agrees, now let’s hurry our asses there before another PLR patrol finds us,” Hershowitz ordered as they moved out as fast as they could, sticking to the shadows of the ruined city. The beauty of it, if it were not for the PLR and the scampering Marines waiting for a crossfire to light it up like the 4th of July.

The night slowly set in as the remaining lights powered off, the only thing crackling were loose wires and the constant blaring of static from the radios left on the ground, repeating the same message over and over again.

“All units this net. Be advised a catastrophic earthquake event in Iran is affecting all operational capability in the Iran-Iraq region. This net will be delivering updates as they become available.”

It was nightfall in Equestria, all was serene in the town of Ponyville. Even the noisiest were all but what they were, sleeping peacefully.

But up above in a city literally made out of clouds, a certain rainbow haired pegasus sulked and paced around furiously trying to think on what other feats she can do.

“Argh! How hard can it be to think of something 20% cooler than what I usually do?!” She said, frustrated. “Let’s see, Rainbooms? Check. Orbital Rainbooms? Check again…” she mused to herself before she walked out to a window in her house.

“Darn it! Why is it so hard to think of an idea?!” She said, slamming her hoof on the window. It was then she took notice of the moon, shining brilliantly on her and everywhere else on the cloud city.

“Oh Luna, at least try to help me!” She grunted in frustration again before going back to where she was and sat down on her bed.

“Hmm… What can I do next…?” She scanned through the possible things she could do for the next day, she was simply too tired to think of anything else for the night.

Well, for starters. She could possibly try and learn something from the Wonderbolts or maybe…

“Nope! Not going back to that egghead’s books!” She said as she laid down on her bed, grabbing a pillow. She hated books, except for Daring Doo books. They were awesome to read in her terms. But then again, where on Equestria will she find another way to impress her friends?

A one way trip around the whole of the planet?  Tempting, but a pass.

A triple Rainboom? An idea, but it was what she usually did times three.

Something out of an old, fancy book? No, no and no-

“Darn it! Fine! I’ll read a book but only ‘cause I’m out of awesome tricks in my head!” She said as she rolled in her bed in frustration. She closed her eyes, hoping that tomorrow will be good, seeing that she had to read some old boring book that some random wise wizard wrote instead of a good old Daring Doo book.

She eventually fell asleep, and soon began dreaming adventures with Daring Doo herself. Little did she know that an adventure was coming up alright.

But it wouldn’t be about exploring ancient ruins of civilizations unknown, it would be about the fight for survival somewhere far from home.

Chapter 1: Engagement

March 21st, 2014/

Tehran, Iran

0715 Hours,

The rising sun shone on the ruins of the city, glistening beautifully on the serene blocks of wrought destruction. Even in the worst of places, it can be very pretty.

Three ravens scoured around the site of four dead corpses of soldiers killed the night before. They squawked in anger as to whom will get their bits of meat today when they were scared off by the faint thumping of boots.

“Stay sharp,” Hershowitz said as he poked his battle rifle around a wrecked car. “It might be dawn but these bastards like to stay awake after bed time.”

“Feels like yesterday, doesn’t it?” said the machine gunner as he leveled his specialized M249 at the cracked streets beyond, the last of any active electronic circuit crackling to a slow death.

“Can’t say so, Miles,” responded the sniper as he held out his pistol in front of the squad, and promptly scouted the terrain ahead. In front of them was the wracked remains of a palace.

“Where are we again? Azadi?”

“Yeah, we’re in the radius of that fancy palace. Stay sharp, the place’s gonna be crawlin’ with PLR,” Scott said as his captured MTAR surveyed the area like an eagle on his prey. He was waiting for the moment when things could go boom, but heavily outnumbered he didn’t count on that.

Miles halted as soon as he laid eyes on three black figures moving at a distance close to the entrance of the ruined remains of Azadi Palace. “Stay down! Contacts, 12 p.m!”

“Got it, stay low and avoid engagement, too many fuckers to kill,” Hershowitz immediately crouched and started making his way to an abandoned storehouse ahead.

“It’s just three guys, what’s so bad ‘bout them?”

“Scott, don’t even dare. The last time that happened, we just sent a shitload of PLR on our tails and command had to bust our asses out of there with a goddamned chopper.” Scott immediately kept quiet and moved to secure the building across them.

“Okay, gonna move uphill to gain a better view of these bastards. Cover me,” The sniper said as he crept to a tall, ruined building just near his location.

“Roger that, keep the sniper protected, Miles, lose him and we lose our eyes in the sky.”

“Copy that, sir!” Miles grunted and he accompanied the sniper upstairs to a better vantage point while the other two stayed below. The figures slowly wandered closer to them until Hershowitz was in earshot of them.

Bloody Iranians, he never bothered to take another language in university. So it was no surprised they were talking what seemed to be apparently gibberish to his ears.

He heard them laughing at an unknown joke before they advanced again. His radio crackled as he slunk into the storehouse.

“We’re in position, orders?”

“No go for fire, don’t want to jeopardize this morning,” Hershowitz responded as his finger itched to pull the trigger of the SCAR-L he held onto his chest.

It was then he heard the sudden skidding of boots and the frantic calls of one of their own from their radio. He peeked out to investigate the cause of this and saw them slowly nodding their heads and they promptly fled back towards the direction of the palace.

“What’s the situation? Our boys got pinned down again?”

“Negative, as far as I can remember Azadi was a no-go for any US forces. Don’t know why they’re rushing off somewhere,” Hershowitz let out a breath of relief and stepped out into the open, waving to Scott who was on the other side of where he stood.

“Can’t get a good visual, too dark and too many stray cinderblocks. If you want any intel on what the hell is goin’ on down there, you’re gonna hafta’ go in close.”

Hershowitz immediately grunted. Even if it wasn’t about them, it should mean there was trouble. He cracked his neck and moved forward, seeing that the trio of PLR soldiers had gone on deep into the ruins of the Palace. “Roger that, Scott, take right flank and make sure you don’t run into any trouble.”

“Got it boss, these bastards won’t know what’s comin’ for them.” Scott hugged a shattered pillar and aimed his MTAR at the same trio who had just leveled their weapons, Iranian made KH2002s into the distance.

“What are they shootin’ at this time?”

“Don’t know, for all I know they’re just raising their guns up at nothing- A thunderous boom shook the foundations of the palace. The Iranians visibly shuddered and shouted as they sprinted into cover. The whirring of helicopter blades reverberated across the ruined landscape.

“What in the bloody hell…? Was that a bloody tank…?”

Hershowitz held up his SCAR as he rolled into a flat piece of collapsed building support. “I think so, and we hear a helo’ closing in fast on the PLR. What in the living fuck is happening? The Marines are already starting a full scale crackdown?”

Scott had taken up a vantage point above on the second floor of the palace and was barely visible as he stuck his head out of the concrete. He then laid eyes on a desert colored tank that was firing at three downed PLR technicals who were firing away with their Brownings to no visible effect.

He knew what the type of tank this was, a Russian made T-90. He grunted and hid again, contacting Hershowitz in the meantime. “Did anyone say anythin’ ‘bout fuckin’ Russians?”

“Negative, no one said anything about Spetnaz forces in Iran. What, you seeing them?”

“Well, try and get up here to see for yourself. Got a live T-90 down there firin’ on PLR forces. Poor bastards,” Scott replied as he hesitated to blow the tank up but promptly took cover as he saw a grey plated and small helicopter armed with gatling guns hover above the place. “Shit!”

“What’s happening now?”

“Well, fuck me with a loaded revolver! We’ve got a helo inbound to our position!” Scott barked as the helicopter began mowing down the unfortunate scampering PLR soldiers as their rifles uselessly pinged off the tank’s and the helicopter’s hardened metal.

“Shit, what the fuck would the Russians have anything to do here?”

“Don’t know, but for all I know now is that we’ve got two heavy contacts mowin’ down the bastards!”

“Hold up, Scott. I see the helicopter, it’s a bloody Z-11W. Chinese made scout helicopters, what the hell would that be doing here?” The sniper responded as his Barrett was aimed at the pilot of the chopper who circled around the PLR soldiers and suppressed the helpless men.

“Don’t know, we just need to take cover before all hell breaks loose!” The T-90 fired again, destroying the leftmost technical with ease and sending two more soldiers into the air, scorched. Hershowitz had taken two minutes to make his way where the demolitions expert took cover and took a snapshot of the armored colossus.

“Holy fuck, I will take what you said seriously. Should be fine if they don’t see us,” Hershowitz commented on the current battle below as the PLR began retreating from the outside and into the palace, one of them happening to sprint up a damaged stairwell to the room they hid in.

“Shit! One contact comin’ up the damn stairwell!”

“Take him out when he gets here! Don’t open fire until the Russians are gone!” The fleeing PLR soldier had stumbled into the room and all he saw was a brownish blur smacking him in the nose, cracking it before a knife in the throat was all it took to end his life.

“How’d you like that, ya’ dirty bastard-Scott looked up and saw the chopper’s pilot staring down at him before he pointed the dumbfounded USMC soldiers to his co-pilot.

“Oh shit, I think he saw me.” Hershowitz grunted and got ready his SCAR-L for combat, aiming it for the hovering chopper, which had spun to face Scott and spun up its guns, Scott retracted his hand behind to pull out the SMAW. The tank below had also seen him and raised its huge barrel at the entrance of the floor, the gunner of a deadly KORD also followed, spouting Russian commands for hidden assailants.

“Garrett, better hope you don’t miss this shot…” Hershowitz said into his radio as Scott immediately dove into cover.

“I was already ready before you were, better hope you fare better on the ground,” Garrett responded coolly as he held in his breath for the shot.

A second was all he needed before the sharp crack of an M82 sent a speeding bullet for the unfortunate Russian pilots of the helicopter. it shattered the windows of the chopper and slammed into the helmet of the pilot, sending him slumping into the controls of the chopper. The shot had also killed the co-pilot and now sent the scout helicopter to an early death as it spiraled towards the ground, to the tank’s surprise. Then three geared up Russians troopers emerged from the shadows and cursed before their weapons lit up the room the Lieutenant and the Gunnery Sergeant was in.

This was it. Their cover was broken and now was the time to fight back.

“We’re clear to engage! Clear to engage!”

An hour earlier on,

Rainbow Dash had just finished her cup of warm and refreshing coffee and was now on her way to her friend’s, Twilight Sparkle, residence. It was basically a tree converted to both a library and a house for the purple unicorn mare, the perfect place to learn something new for the unwilling pegasus as she touched the ground in front of the house.

She gulped and knocked the door. “Hold up! I’m coming!”

The door opened, to reveal Twilight. “Oh, hi Dash! What are you doing here so early?”

“Err… I need to… well…” Rainbow stammered, trying her best not to reveal what she was here for. She couldn’t and promptly gave up the ruse. “I need to borrow one of your books for a while.”

Twilight’s expression changed to a curious look before she started giggling. “You…want to borrow a book? That’s a first…”

“Hey! It’s ain’t my fault that I ran out of ideas last night!”

“Okay then, suit yourself. There’s lots of books-Rainbow had sped into her house, trying to stave off the wave of embarrassment she just earned. Skidding to a halt in front of a bookshelf, she began to carefully read through the covers of the books she saw.

“History of Equestria? Nope! The Art of War? Later…” She mumbled as Twilight approached her.

“You sure you’re okay? You look like you’re in a rush. Want some help?”

“Nope! I don’t need help!” The floundered rainbow maned pegasus replied as her hooves brushed on the cover of the books she saw.

“Oh hey! What’s this..?” She pulled out a dusty book and promptly blew a puff of wind, illuminating the words on the cover on the book.

“That’s the list of ancient Pegasi performances they did back in Celestia’s days. What are you exactly planning to do, Rainbow?” Twilight asked, pondering what her friend and the Element of Loyalty was going to do for today.

“Well, I’ve done a lot of things that really… made everyone wow! And now I’ve run out of ideas so I decided to come down here and take a…book!” She grunted as she hovered over to the table nearby.

“Well, I only could recall you scrounging through all the books here just for Daring Doo novels but this is a first,” Twilight said as she trotted away. “Well, if you need me just call me! I’ll be in my room.”

“Yeah, yeah. Go do your fancy schmancy egghead things! I’ve got business to learn!” Twilight stifled yet another wave of giggles as she walked into her room.

“Okay… Let’s see..” Rainbow mused to herself as she buried her eyes into every aching line of words that she attempted to comprehend. Flipping through pages and pages of extremely complex lines, she found one very interesting article.  “Ah hah! This might be something…”

On it read,

Blazer’s Point-

A very risky maneuver created by Alfonso Skyfire, it requires for the performer to undertake strenuous endurance courses in order to pull off this hazardous trick.

This maneuver will create a blazing arc of flames if done correctly, styled expressively in the shape of a rainbow. All you need to do is… It took her almost an hour to latch these instructions in her head before she read the last of them.

But beware-Rainbow tried to read the last few lines of the description of the trick but it was all worn off due to age. But nevertheless, she now had something to try out later on today as she flew out of the door back to her place, the book begin grasped by her hooves.

If the words had remained where they were, here was what they said and it might've changed Rainbow Dash's mind.

But beware, Skyfire himself, shortly after performing the eye-popping performance, he was never seen again in an aura of energy. Some say that it was a magical glitch but others think not. Do not attempt to do this trick at all for it is too risky as until today, Skyfire has not returned from where he came from.

Chapter 2: Aegis

"*Aegis;*

The protection, backing, or support of a particular person or organization."

March 21st, 2014/

Tehran, Iran

0915 Hours

“Fuckin’ hell! Why’d they shootin’ at us in the first place?!” Scott yelled as he popped out of cover and sprayed the pillar that one of the Russians took cover behind, pinging uselessly off the shattered concrete.

“It’s either we shot them first or they were going to bust our asses!”

“I’d say we shot them first!” Scott quickly rolled out of cover as soon as the T-90 rumbled, letting loose a searing shell headed for where he took cover, obliterating it in one shot.

“Garrett! Can you give us some cover fire?” Hershowitz barked into his radio over the sounds of the Russians’ weapon chipping away at the wall he took cover in.

“Can do, but it’s gonna be limited. The bloody buggers are hidin’ in the shadows. I’ll try to draw them out!” Garrett responded as Miles, who was busy watching the conflict with his M249 at the ready, walked around alert.

The crashed Z-11W’s husk rolled around aimlessly, recoiling as Hershowitz’s SCAR-L’s bullets pinged off it, trying to gut two covered Russians who occasionally popped up to let loose their rifles.

The T-90 then rolled backwards to get a better angle on the two pinned down Marines, the KORD gunner letting streams of FMJ bullets at their withering cover. Another sharp crack from Garrett’s M82 sent an open Russian operative swirling back into the inner sanctum of the palace. At this, another sniper far away, unnoticed by the ex-SAS marksmen, began to recalibrate his aim for him.

Hershowitz was on to an end, his mind scrambling on what next to do as he ejected the empty magazine from the SCAR and pulled out a fresh one. Scott however was beginning to pull out the anti-tank launcher from his back when another loud crack of a sniper reverberated.

“…Shite! That was a bloody close call! You’ve got a sniper up there in the roofs, be aware of that!” Garrett muttered as he quickly stood up and rushed back to the staircase behind, Miles stumbling from the sudden shot.

“There’s another fuckin’ problem there! And it’s pinnin’ down our sniper!”

Hershowitz’s mind stirred as he tried to identify who was the immediate threat; the tank or the sniper. Grunting in anger, he managed to make up his troubled mind.

“Take out the tank first! Garrett, get to cover ASAP! The sniper’s the secondary, tank’s our primary!”

“Roger that, sir! We’re movin’ downstairs!” Garrett clicked in as they sprinted into a hallway and hugged a wall, Miles taking up a breaching position.

“Breaching!” Miles slammed the door open and immediately held up his M249, to nobody’s surprise as the room, once a home to some poor Iranian family, was deserted. “Clear!”

“Got it! Movin’ in!” Garrett said as he ran into the room, the MP443 also held up into the air as he entered the kitchen of this abandoned residence.

Meanwhile, Hershowitz was frantically deciding what to do, and in a last ditch attempt he pulled out the radio and yelled for help, not expecting a response.

“This is Delta 1-3! We’re under heavy fire from RU ground troops! Is there anyone who can respond, over?!” He slotted the radio back in and rose out of cover to raze the well trained and equipped Russian operatives who pushed on, one of them disappearing underneath the floor trying to flank them.

It was then Hershowitz heard a gruff voice tear through the static of the radio.

“This is the Retribution II, what’s your status?”

He pulled it out again as he rolled out of the cover. “Thank fuckin’ god! We need immediate fire support down at Azadi Palace. We're being pinned by a hostile T-90 and several RU troopers, Retribution! Where the fuck are you?!” He said as he heard the audible thumping of boots and Russian chatter coming up the stairwell in the interior of the second floor.

“Copy that, we’re having visual with the palace, approaching combat zone for immediate fire support. Stand by,” Retribution’s operator chimed in as their M1 Abrams, which had survived four days on end from both PLR light fire and natural hazards, rolled on the street beyond them, around the apartment block that Garrett and Miles were stationed in.

“Garrett! Get a visual on that tank!”

“Roger that, sir!” Garret ran out into the hallway and slid into cover, a window stationed into the wall. He peeped out and saw the golden hull of the US’s trademark armor rolling down the street.

“I see ‘im!”

“Good to know! Retribution! Get your ass over here! We’ve gone FUBAR!”

“Copy that, speeding up!” Now Hershowitz could hear the rumbling of the Abrams as it approached the broken palace, and the muttering of a trained Russian as he reached the second floor, his bullpup carbine trained on the surroundings.  Hershowitz, out of sight from the night clad Russian, behind a wall, grunted in frustration before he came out of cover and sprayed the area with 5.56 NATO rounds, sending the Russian stumbling for cover as he also let loose his carbine.

Scott however had his SMAW raised up and behind cover. The T-90 fired again into his position, sending millions of cinderblocks spiraling up into the air. He held his breath hoping that the rocket would hit and left cover.

“Firin’ launcher!” The SMAW flared and send the HE rocket screaming into the tank. It exploded to his relief, and the T-90 immediately backpedalled its way out of the SMAW’s line of fire. It was then the hidden Abrams also fired its main gun into the side of the fleeing T-90, causing it to visibly slow down and  attract its attention. The two Russians below spun their heads to face the threat and so did the PLR who had so far remained hidden during the whole firefight.

“Load in another shell, Private! Blow this sucker sky high!” The captain of the tank bellowed as the Abrams closed in for the kill, soaking up the rounds of the now exposed PLR soldiers who split up in an attempt to confuse the tank.

“AP shell loaded, sir!”

“On my mark… FIRE!”  The Abram’s main gun shook the foundations of the palace again, pummeling the side of the now aflame T-90, its threads disabled.

“Good shot!” Scott said in delight before he saw on the other side a PLR soldier wielding an RPG. “Shit! Retribution, you’ve got a fuckin’ RPG on the second floor!”

“Copy that, pulling back!” The Abrams backed away to the PLR solders’ horror as one of them was grinded underneath the threads of the tank.  Scott saw the RPG fire its HE shell before a burst of his MTAR killed the holder of the launcher, sending his corpse spiraling down from the second floor.

The disabled T-90 then proceeded to load in its one last shot, sending it screeching for the Retribution’s armor, scorching it in one shot before the operators of the critically damaged tank hastily climbed out of it. Retribution shuddered but managed to load in its finishing shot.

“FIRE!” The Abrams let hell break loose as the T-90 exploded in a cloud of raining dust and metal.

“Yippee-k-i-ay! Motherfuckers!” Scott victoriously said, turning his attention now to the Russian that Hershowitz was now engaging.

“Scotty! Help me gut this fucker!”

“On it!” The Texan slid behind a toppled couch in the hall of the interior, and promptly opened fire on the Russian who was behind a pillar. The Russian grunted before he popped out of cover and fired his A-91 in response, only to have his gas mask cracked as a round gored through his head.

“One down! Two more Russians to go and a whole shitload of PLR!”

“Retribution here, we’ll handle the PLR! Take care of the Russians! Load another shell in! HE this time!”

“Aye, aye sir!” The fleeing PLR soldiers were blown up by a reversing Retribution who was finishing the last of them. Some of the stragglers had their heads popped by Garrett’s deployed M82 from his vantage point, the other window occupied by Miles's lethal M249 LMG.

“Suppressing fire!” The M249 jittered and massacred the last three of them.

The Russians were faring no better as they scrambled inside of the palace in a close quarters deathmatch. Scott and Hershowitz also made their move as the USMC engineer let loose another burst of his MTAR before he dove into cover to reload. The Russian sniper far away was grunting in frustration, lining up his imported Norwegian JNG-90 at the two Marines who constantly swapped cover to engage his comrades.

“Garrett! Can you take out the sniper while you still can before he-A shot screamed next to Hershowitz, earning an angered grunt as he deployed his SCAR’s bipod to engage the covering Russians across them.

“Suppressing! Get ‘em Scotty!”

“Will do!” Scott leveled himself out of cover and let loose an accurate burst of rounds towards an unfortunate operative, first punching his body full of bullets before he was finished off with another bullet through his helmet.

“Two down! Garrett and Miles, it's clear to get down from your point! Retribution’s got you covered!”

Garrett, at this promptly complied but before he left, he ascended once more to finish off the RU sniper far away. “Lemme finish off the bugger first! Miles, get your ass down there to help them!”

“Got it, sir!” The machine gunner descending the spiraling stairwell before he saw the bright morning sun again and sprinted towards the ruins of the palace, the Retribution’s crew guarding his advance.

Garrett was all too busy calculating the wind direction and elevation, having no need for a spotter at this distance or at all, due to his almost legendary status in the SAS. Finding his mark, he held in his breath for the finishing blow. “Good night, ya' arsehole…”

The deployed M82 cracked once more, sending a high velocity projectile headed for the unfortunate RU sniper who took one last look before his head was gouged out by the bullet. “RU sniper down!”

“Thanks, Garrett! Now get down here! Retribution, move in to help cover us if you’re outta PLR!”

“Will do!” The Retribution’s engines rumbled to life as it advanced into the ruins to engage the last Russian black ops operative.

The operative cursed in Russian, no more options and no more escape route. His primary objective was to get into Iran, retrieve the stolen nukes from the PLR and quickly evacuate while leaving no witnesses in order to cover their trail. But his comrades and their armored support were now all but living, the T-90’s crew probably ambushed by PLR patrols further east.

But he wasn’t going down without a fight. Sprinting out of cover while bellowing a war cry, he let loose a hail of bullets from his vastly customized AEK-971 and was promptly ended by the freshly arrived Retribution II.

The skirmish at dawn was over, the two soldiers above sighed breaths of relief and made their way down to the awaiting crew of the Retribution, also survivors of the earthquake.

Reaching the ground, the crew of the Retribution opened up the hatch of their tank to greet these fellow Marines and upon seeing them, immediately saluted.

“Sir! Captain Alex Noah reporting for duty!”

“Private David Fairfield!”

“And Corporal Sam Evern, ready for service!” Hershowitz cracked a smile, now something had been given to them as an answer for their prayers.

A battle ready tank and these brave souls, out of all options in a shattered wasteland.

Half an hour earlier,

Rainbow Dash now sat in the living room of her mansion in Cloudsdale, trying to memorize the details of what the description said about Blazer’s Point before she actually tried it out.

“Yadda yadda here… Annnnd I’m done!” She shut the book in impatience and stood up, stretching her wings for her performance. But first, she was going to have to call her friends to demonstrate what would happen.

Swooping down below back to the tree house after a lousy two, very mind nulling hours, she dropped down onto the ground gracefully and tapped the door again. The door opened, revealing a wide awake Twilight who was surprised to see her friend again down on the ground.

“Oh, hi Rainbow! What are you doing here again? Unsatisfied with that old book you borrowed?”

“Um… That and I really, really, REALLY need you for one thing!”

“Let me guess… You’ve learnt that trick you found and now you want to demonstrate it somewhere far from my house… Riiight?”

Rainbow had a feeling about her know-it-all unicorn friend and this exact situation. But she acted as if she was surprised. “Whoa! How’d you know?”

“Let’s say I had a feeling about it when you put your hooves on that book,” Twilight replied as she trotted back into her residence. “Let me get some of my stuff out, I’m actually curious about that old book!”

“O-okay… that’s nice to know, Twi!” Rainbow Dash replied as she caught sight of Spike wondering around aimlessly in the residence and her pet owl just staring out of a window.

Spike turned his head, revealing his bed eyes. “Oh, hey Dash.”

“Hey, Spike.”

“What’re you doing? Waiting for Twilight to get her stuff?”

Darn, everybody knew what she was going to do next, maybe they knew what was going to happen during her attempts at Blazer’s Point…?

“Of course! Why am I still out here then?”

“That’s a good point…” He yawned and disappeared from her view. Minutes later, Twilight came out prepared for today’s performance and also ready to take down notes on the book’s intricate maneuvers.

“Well, I’m ready!”

“Twilight? Should we call the others first..?”

“Hmm… sure! Why not?” She gleefully replied, Rainbow just deadpanned at her. It was clearly obvious over the course of the days that such events had to be attended by their friends, the other bearers of the Elements of Harmony.

“…So where do you wanna meet up for my performance? Some deserted range on AJ’s farm? Or that spot where we have picnics all the time?”

“Err… I say we do it at our spot as usual!” Rainbow, at this, immediately began to flutter her wings.

“Well then, get everypony up and running ‘cause I’m gonna go there first!” She sped away, leaving Twilight with her inventory alone outside the library.

“Oh brother… I guess I’m going to have to get everypony up by myself…” Twilight groaned as she began trotting away to a faraway carousel where her friend and the Element of Generosity, Rarity, stayed at with her little sister.

Take plenty of notes, Twilight Sparkle, because you won’t be seeing Rainbow Dash again for a good while.

Chapter 3: Convoy

March 21st, 2014/

Azadi Palace,

Tehran, Iran,

1025 Hours,

The hull of the Retribution guarded seven grizzled soldiers as they sat inside an abandoned coffee house, sheltering them from the eventual heat waves.

“So, we didn’t quite get your names. What’s yours?”

“Lieutenant Murray Hershowitz of Delta Force 1-3,” Hershowitz replied to the Captain of the Abrams as he pulled out an aged M1911 and scrutinized it. Scott was outside by the tank taking his time to observe it with Fairfield.

“Wait a minute, are you the Lieutenant Hershowitz? You’re a legend in the Marines! They say you’ve fought off at least twenty PLR soldiers and three BMPs while waiting for extraction!”

“Yep, that’s me alright. Was a tight fit really if Scott hadn’t blasted our way out, he’s the hero and I’m the victim,” Hershowitz jokingly replied, shifting through the memories of when his squad was pinned down with the General waiting for Gunslinger 5-7 and their other Viper to blast them out of the village. “Gotta thank Gunslinger though, their guns were the only things that could hold off the damn Tunguskas.”

“It’s an honor to meet you, sir!” Noah held out his hand to shake with the battered Lieutenant and he proceeded to comply.

“As always. So, how ‘bout you guys? How’d you survive these days after the ‘quake?”

“Well, it's just a mixture of pure luck and strategic thinkin’, sir,” Noah replied as he fiddled around with his M4A1, having ran out of ammo a day ago before the USMC engineer gave him an extra one.

Meanwhile, Fairfield and Scott were still observing the tank, Miles joining after becoming bored sitting with the usually silent British.

“You’ve taken some shots, didja? Tell me, RPGs or T-72s?”

“I’d say both, sir…?”

“Oh yeah, it’s Scott. Scott Naso.”

“Oh, that’s a pretty good name. Anyway, this girl’s got a few more rounds to spare at those PLR bastards,” Fairfield replied as he knocked on the blackened hull of the Retribution.

“Good to see, what op were you guys on? Escortin’?” Scott asked as he looked around, a little paranoid for remaining PLR forces.

“Yep, convoy of Humvees and an LAV. All gone as soon as these bastards opened fire on us even before the damn quake,” Fairfield replied solemnly, having awful flashbacks about screaming rockets that blasted apart the Humvees they were escorting and the LAV being blown up by unseen IEDs the PLR had hidden in advance.

“Feel ya’ pain, soldier. Our squad got pinned down by at least seven of these bastards, Arlie and Aslanian took the bullets for us and then ya’ should know what happened next,” Scott responded as he noticed Miles walking around, bored with his LMG bouncing off his arms.

Meanwhile, Hershowitz and Noah discussed their plans for today as they are now combined forces. “So, you guys need a lift?” Noah asked Hershowitz.

“Damn right we need some, unfortunately we can’t really get into your tank, can we?”

“Just as I suspected, on our crusade to friggin’ nowhere we found a relatively intact Humvee stuck in a buildin', just a little debris on it and maybe a splatter or two of blood,” Noah explained their discovery. “We think it’s still operational, poor bastards. Must’ve gotten ambushed by PLR on their side.”

“Bastards indeed, Captain. We’ll take the Humvee, it’s our only way for fast travel until High Command sends in an extraction force,” Hershowitz replied as he spun his head to find the silent British sniper and the driver of the Retribution snoring.

Noah followed his gaze and observed the sniper as he just sat there in total silence, waiting for an order. “He’s the silent type, ain’t he?”

“Only if we ain’t in a jiffy, but that add to his whole alias when he came here to oversee our forces. We looked promising so he just waltzed into our squad, and here he is,” Hershowitz explained about Garrett’s arrival into Delta. “Claims to have killed at least three high ranking PLR members, all from an extremely far distance without a spotter, or at least that was what they told us. The reason why he doesn’t talk… Well, its just up to us to find out why.”

“Sounds pretty clichéd, but I’ll take my chances. Want us to bring you there now?” Noah replied as Fairfield, Miles and Scott entered the store.

“Anythin’ before noon, these bastards will find us pretty easily in Iran’s heat,” Scott responded as he overheard their conversation, Miles busily chatting with Fairfield. Evern, who was busy taking a nap on the wall, flickered his eyelids to see his friends and the Marines wandering around in the store, getting ready to go. The only one eying him was the sniper, who had an expressionless face and a pistol on the table, clips scattered.

“So it seems Sleeping Beauty is up,” Garrett said coldly, never taking his eyes off the awakened tank driver. “Lemme tell you about something, never take a nap on the battlefield unless you want to end up a pile of ragged flesh.”

“How’d you know? I’ve driven into at least three strikes in a tank. Sometimes, it's just exhaustion that gets the best of ya,” Evern replied to the sniper’s dismay.

“Listen here, I didn’t get here in a bloody tank. Just bloods and boots, that’s all,” Garrett replied to Evern’s visible dismay. “And trust me, being in the SAS is not all about that fancy pancy stuff, that’s for snobs.”

“Okay then, whatever you say, guv…” Evern got up and wiped his wracked trousers free of dust before he walked towards the group of gathered soldiers.

“Well, all of us are up and runnin’. Should we go find that Humvee?” Hershowitz said, Scott and Miles nodded while Evern who stood next to his captain just blinked.

“Oh… that Humvee…” He knocked his head, remembering the Humvee that they drove past. “To tell you guys about something, the armaments on that thing? Couldn’t get a good look at it but I think it’s an ASRAD variant… Pretty handy, ain’t it?”

Scott shook his head in disbelief, an ASRAD variant? All the way out here in Tehran? “I’ve only seen the ones with the open HMGs and the remote controlled ones but an ASRAD Humvee? Nope, never existed. At least all the way out here,” Scott gruffly commented at this. The ASRAD variant of the HMMMV was particularly deadly because of a remote controlled missile launcher mounted on its top unlike its counterparts equipped with only HMGs. This was a jewel all the way here.

“Then we better get to it. Garrett! Get your gear!” Hershowitz barked as they all exited the deserted store, Garrett with his M82 following suit. “We’re going to secure a hopefully operational Humvee!”

“Don’t hope, just find out or else you’re gonna jinx us,” Garrett replied as the three tank operators clambered into the Abrams, starting it up with a loud rumble of its engines. The four then quickly took lead, the Retribution following behind, rotating its turret and watching out for PLR troops.

It was almost an hour before they reached the earthquake ruined remains of an office, the Humvee partially embedded into the interior of the building and its front window splintered by three bullet shots.

Hershowitz slid into the debris and waved for Scott to secure the vehicle. It was then he saw three dead Marines stripped of their gear and bloodied. Garrett, who was behind him, stopped also to take a look at the grisly sight.

“Ugh, makes ya think why we’re still fightin’ this trivial fight.”

“Resorting to advanced vocabulary in a battlefield, eh? Yeah, I sometimes wonder why too, “Hershowitz replied as Scott circled the Humvee, its driver’s door stuck in the debris.

“Fuckin’ hell! Retribution, ya got a tow cable?”

“That’s a positive. Hook it up to the back of the Humvee and we’ll pull it out.” Scott nodded and went towards the tank, finding the tow cable behind the tank.

“Turn the big ol’ machine ‘round!” The tank immediately responded and turned, Scott following its rotation. Once the Retribution had placed its back towards the crashed Humvee, Scott pulled the tow cable and latched it onto the grill of it. “Okay! Clear for extraction!”

“Pulling!” The tank rumbled as it effortlessly pulled out the Humvee out of the debris, causing them to move back from the aftermath.

Hershowitz whistled and Miles, who had just arrived, just stared at the Humvee in awe. “Hol-ee shit, son! Is that there a…?”

“Yep, that’s a missile launcher alright,” Scott replied as he carefully scrutinized the Humvee. It was in working order, had enough fuel for a trip from Texas to Alabama and its missile launcher intact. Scott took a round trip from where he stood and opened the door to the Humvee’s driver seat, clambering inside. Hoping it would start up, he pushed the pedal forward and the battered transport rumbled to life.

“Fuck yeah! It works!”

“Alright, everybody pile up! Miles, take the launcher!” Hershowitz barked as they all sprinted towards the Humvee.

“Aye, aye sir!” Miles responded as he opened the door to the gunner seat and closed it. The controls for the launcher flickered open as soon as Miles pressed the screen. “Whoa shit! Scotty, how’d work this shit?”

“Just use the controller and pull the trigger if you see a tango!” Miles grabbed the joystick nearby and twirled it, the view on the screen followed his movements.

“This is damn cool! Now what’d we do?”

Hershowitz, from behind, piped up. “I’d say we regroup at… Markaz. If I knew my guts, there’s probably a chance that some survivors of the ‘quake that ain’t PLR is gonna regroup there!” Markaz was home to an enormous building that earned its nickname ‘Monolith’.

“I second that!”

“Retribution here, we also thought of that before we came over to help you guys. Sounds pretty good, we good to go?”

Garrett just nodded slowly; Miles comically caused the missile launcher to nod in approval.

“Alright then! Let’s head out to the monolith!” Somewhere far away, a sonic boom ripped through the atmosphere above the skies of Iran.

Fifteen minutes earlier,

The intrepid group of multicolored ponies sat on a checkered cloth, eying the skies for their rainbow maned friend.

“Where is that dang showoff?”

“Oh, don’t worry! She’s just getting ready for her performance. That’s all!”

“Buuuuut I want it now!” Pinkie Pie excitedly said, waiting for her hot-headed friend to perform her possibly death defying trick. Meanwhile high above in the clouds, Rainbow Dash was warming up for Blazer’s Point.

She huffed and collected all of the pieces of information on that boring old book she borrowed from Twilight.

“Okay… this is gonna be easy, Dash… Just stay calm annnnd….” She held her breath and trotted off the cloud quickly. Reaching the edge of it, she soared into the air like a speeding jet and her friends below now saw her flying.

“Well, if this is another one of her rainbooms, ya’ll can count me out!”

“It isn’t a rainboom, AJ! It’s a new trick she’s learnt from a old book about pegasi!” At this, Applejack snorted.

“Reeally? Did ah jus’ hear ‘bout Rainbow readin’ a book?” But to no avail, their eyes were still locked on to the blue pegasus above.

Okay Dash… remember what the book said… First, a corkscrew… She spun and performed a dazzling corkscrew for the first step.

Then a loop… She complied with her head, and everypony below watched, hoping it wasn’t a generic rainboom. Although that was still interesting.

Then an Aileron roll followed by a Z… Five seconds later, she had done all of the above, now there wasn’t any streaks of rainbow following her tail but a trail of flames.

“Dear Celestia! She’s on fire!”

“Calm down! I think its part of the performance!”

Okay… last step, travel as fast as I can in a shape of a rainbow…! She followed it exactly, and reached Mach 1.

Steadily after finishing the rainbow, her speed somehow reached Mach 2.

Then Mach 3, how is this even possible? The flames still trailed behind her and her friends watched on in both horror and awe.

“Oh my! Tell Rainbow to stop now! She’s going too fast!”

“I can’t! She’s too high up-A boom reverberated across the plains, and immediately they looked up to find their pegasus no longer trailing. They then looked at each other in confused glances, Twilight busy writing down the effects of Blazer’s Point. Certainly an interesting trick, but where did Rainbow Dash go? And what was that boom?

It was then she noticed a ring at where the flames stopped, a big cloud of smoke enveloping that area. She stopped, and knew what had happened.

Gone, gone like the wind. But to where?

Chapter 5: Crisis

March 21st, 2014/

Markaz,

Tehran, Iran,

1145 Hours,

The Retribution’s crew propelled the tank forwards, crushing all the unfortunate bits of objects underneath the bulk of the tank as they headed for the Markaz Monolith in order to regroup with the Marines who were literally screeching about some fictional object.

“You seeing anything, Captain?” Sam asked as the tank crunched a sedan underneath it.

“Only miles and miles of wrecks. Pretty fucked up out there.”

“We’re lucky we got a tank in the first place,” Sam responded as their radio crackled. “Shit, who’s in trouble now?”

“This is Osprey 5-7! We’re downed in the city of Markaz! We need immediate assistance!” Noah took his time to remember what an Osprey was before he heard a distant rumble sound.

“Aren’t Ospreys those fancy VTOLs?”

“Yup, that’s an Osprey all right,” Sam, replied as the booms became numerous and louder, obvious that it was the sound of explosions and gunfire. The Retribution’s armor groaned and moved out on the streets towards the source of the gunfire amongst the now audible sounds of masonry collapsing, signifying that another building had collapsed after so long.

It was then they came upon a ghastly sight, a T-72 engaging the wreck of a crashed V-22 Osprey near a park with incoming PLR soldiers whose weapons were filling up the skies with lethal rifle rounds. Noah grunted and was determined to make things right even it was clear they were outgunned by probable RPG wielders and the T-72 in front of them.

“Private, load a shell in.”

“But sir! There’s too many of them-

“It’s either we die trying or everybody dies in vain, now load that shell in,” Noah said coldly, not wanting to repeat the day he lost an entire convoy of Marines who could’ve been alive if it weren’t for him. With the downed Osprey in the junction on the left, he was dead set on killing all the PLR forces who had just noticed the Retribution through the sound of its engines.

They barked orders and soon their attention was drawn to the bulk of the Abrams, firing rounds at it that uselessly pinged off the hardened metal of the tank. Fairfield heaved the HE shell up and loaded it into the chamber. “It’s loaded!”

“Now, fire!” The main gun of the Retribution flared as it struck the T-72, causing its threads to derail and thus stopping it from moving. “Load another shell in!”

“Aye, aye sir!” Fairfield responded as he heaved another shell into the chambering, Sam busy maneuvering the tank as it rolled around dodging shells.

“Holy shit! Who is this in a tank?”

Noah cleared his throat as he lined up the cannon for another shot. “This is the Retribution II, we’re survivors of the earthquake along with four other Marines. We were in Markaz looking for other survivors until we heard your distress call, over.”

“Thank fucking god! At least we have a tank on our side now!” The pilot of the Osprey responded as he dragged his wounded co-pilot into cover, having been shot with two bullets to his midsection. He then slid into cover to eliminate the hostiles moving down to finish him off but the T-72 that had taken down their chopper exploded into a storm of burnt metal and dust, the Retribution rolling into the scene.

“Hell yes! Now that’s what I call armored kill!”

Noah breathed a sigh of relief, at least someone was giving out indirect compliments about his tank, having been through so much ordeals. It was then he heard Hershowitz’s voice tear through the radio, gunfire rattling the background.

“...Miles! Take that fucker out! I got the other one!” Noah could hear his SCAR-L rattle and the zooming bullets that nearly gutted the Lieutenant.

“He’s a goner!” The launcher of the ASRAD Humvee deployed a screaming missile that hit against a PLR technical, sending it flying into the air. Noah grunted and spoke into the radio.

“Retribution here, what’s happening down there?”

“God fucking hell! Retribution, we have a hostage inside a tango I repeat, hostage inside a tango! And you wouldn’t believe it if I told you who that hostage is! We’re traveling down the streets with three technicals pursuing and multiple PLR incoming! Where the fuck are you?”

Noah looked around before asking Sam where they were. “We’re in the 7th Jelababi District sir! Tell them we are near al-Montyak park!” Noah nodded before he went back to the firing controls, Fairfield having loaded another shell in to fire.

“Firing!” The tank recoiled and blasted a shop wide open, the bodies of unfortunate PLR soldiers sailing outside with their weapons vaporized.

“Shit! We can hear that, Captain! We’re nearing the al-Montyak park near the Monolith! Are you guys there with the Osprey?”

“More of our boys? Fuck yes! Lead the technical here, maybe the Retribution and us can set up an ambush for these Iranian bastards!” The pilot responded, very glad that more reinforcements were on their way although they were in a fast paced, adrenaline filled car chase.

“We can try that! But if we say do not shoot the lead technical, follow our orders! There’s a fucking pegasus that can talk stuck in the backseat!” Noah, at the word ‘pegasus’, abruptly stopped halfway. He adjusted his helmet correctly if he was hearing wrongly.

“Say that again, Lieutenant?”

“I said, we have a talking pegasus from a TV show as the PLR’s hostage, and I’m dead serious or else we wouldn’t be out here, wouldn’t we!?” Hershowitz responded angrily as his rifle clattered, audible to a disgruntled Noah who proceeded to order Sam to move the tank forwards a little bit, covering the pilot of the Osprey along with his wounded companion.

“Sir! I see them, moving 9 0’clock from where we are, multiple armored contacts inbound in ETA two minutes!” Sam blared out as the main cannon of the Abrams flared again, killing an RPG holder and five of his comrades. Noah then contacted the crashed Osprey’s pilot.

“What’s your callsign, pilot?”

“It’s Gunslinger! Now what do you need from us? My comrade is wounded so the faster we end this, the faster I can contact command to pick us up for medevac!”

Gunslinger? That word bounced around in Noah’s head until he realized who Gunslinger was. The pilots of the Viper that had saved Hershowitz and his men from being reduced to ashes on the day of the raid, the day he became a legend. But reputation wasn’t what they cared about, only on what to do next.

“How long before command can send in medevac?”

“I’d say in about half an hour!”

“Good! Patch them up to the Lieutenant! Meanwhile, I need you to do something!”

“What’s that, sir?”

Noah looked towards the road again, seeing the headlights of the technicals and the Humvee trailing behind, the launcher firing once again into the remains of a telephone booth, sending it sky high along with the PLR stationed there.

“You have anything anti-vehicle?”

“Err… Why, yes! We have a Javelin in the cargo bay just in case with three spare missiles!” Perfect, Javelin missiles were deadly, locking onto enemy vehicles and the next thing they know, they’re dust.

“Good, get them out of the bay and prep for fire,” Noah ordered the pilot, who was busily sniping off PLR soldiers in the apartment blocks with a M417 he had acquired in the cargo bay, gutting the latest soldier with surgical precision. Meanwhile, Noah had formulated a plan, one that might save the hostage.

“Lieutenant, does the sniper still have ammo for the fifty caliber?”

“Let me check… Garrett! You still have ammo for the M82?”

“I still have three more magazines! Why'd you ask so?”

“I don’t know! Captain, why'd you ask about it?”

Noah quickly fired off another shell at the apartment block the PLR soldiers were in, blowing it into bits before responding. “Good! Lieutenant, I need you to make a roadblock for them with the sniper facing the technical with the hostage!”

“Wait a minute, you don’t mean to say…?”

“Yes, he’s going to have to snipe the engine block,” Noah responded as he barked for Fairfield to load another shell in. “And we’re going to eliminate the other guys in the meantime.”

“Sounds like a solid plan to me, let’s go! Scotty, full speed ahead! Make sure Garrett’s facing the technicals!” Noah heard the engineer grunt in response and immediately the Humvee sped up, bypassing the technicals which pelted the armor of the jeep.

“Okay! Gunslinger, take out that Javelin!”

“On it!” Gunslinger complied as he gave the M417 to his wounded co-pilot who gave a grunt of approval before dragging himself so that he could snipe off the PLR soldiers. The cargo bay’s door was open due to the crash and Gunslinger had no problem finding a piece of delicate weaponry inside, relatively unharmed. Taking the Javelin outside not before loading it up with a missile, he slid next to his comrade and knelt down to fire the Javelin at the incoming technicals. It was then they heard the boom of another tank, and soon there was a tank that emerged from the alleyway next to the technicals. But this tank wasn’t a weak T-72.

It was a T-90.

“Shit! Changing targets to engage enemy armor!” Noah barked as the barrel of the tank maneuvered to face the incoming armor that fired off another shot at the Retribution and the crashed Osprey, striking the streets and creating a gaping crater.

The Humvee then skidded to a halt as soon as they reached within a footstep of the crash site, Garrett’s M82 deployed and ready for fire from his window. Scott jumped out of the Humvee followed by the Lieutenant as they took cover behind it.

“Gunslinger! Engage the T-90! We’ve got the technicals!” The pilot looked back at the tank, nodded before he took a breath and locked on to the incoming T-90.

“Garrett’s ready! Give the go before we’re toast!” Noah took a deep breath. This was it, today’s most difficult challenge and the most difficult he had ever partaken in.

He silently prayed to God before the barrel of the tank aimed at the oncoming technicals that refused to slow down and threatening to ram all of them.

Now was the time to be heroes. “Fire.”

Fifteen minutes earlier, 1130 hours,

Hershowitz was in a predicament gone awry. Now a PLR soldier had his gun pointed at the pegasus who was trying to squirm her way out and with the distress call of a crashed Osprey, nothing could be worse.

“I said, put down the gun or I will shoot this creature!” The soldier barked at him while Hershowitz’s mind raced.

“Hershes, what the fuck is happenin’ up there?! More PLR?!” Scott barked over his radio, causing the PLR soldier to tilt his head before regaining his posture while still holding on tightly to the pegasus, the monster out of mythology.

He didn’t need a casualty now, even more so a being from a colorful and friendly TV show being that casualty. He had nowhere to go, and couldn’t do anything.

This was happening again, and he wouldn’t let it happen.

In a second, he dropped his SCAR-L and raised his hands up, signifying that he was complying to the unruly soldier’s barks. The PLR soldier smiled and proceeded to drag the pegasus away, back onto the staircase where his comrade had an AK trained on him.

“Kill him, I will bring this creature captive. Maybe Al-Bashir knows what to do with it.” His comrade nodded as he steadied his aim for the Lieutenant, who slowly slid his feet towards the SCAR-L. The PLR soldier holding Rainbow Dash hostage quickly vanished from sight, and everything went to hell soon after.

Hershowitz grunted and rolled onto the floor, retrieving his SCAR and firing it at the soldier ahead, gutting him and causing his AK to spray onto the ceiling. The other soldier below heard the noise and quickly hurried himself down, stopping for a while to pull out a roll of duct tape to tie up the struggling pegasus.

“Hey! What’re-her mouth was taped shut as she mumbled something incomprehensible to the militant who picked her up and continued his way down the stairs.

Hershowitz was also running down the stairs, the firefight below having stopped during the confrontation with the kidnapper of Rainbow Dash. Reaching the ground floor, he sprinted past Garrett who complied and began to pack up his M82. Scott spun and saw the Lieutenant hurriedly stepping down on the stairs to the building.

“Scotty, get your ass moving ASAP!”

“Why, Hershes? And where’s that damn pegasus?”

“That’s why we’re moving out. The PLR’s got her hostage,” Hershowitz replied coldly as he wrenched the door open and sat inside, his SCAR-L at the ready. Garrett was the last to clamber into the Humvee as it started up again.

Suddenly, at least four PLR technicals zoomed out from in front of them, marking the start of the chase.

“Hit the pedal!”

“Got it!” Scott slammed his foot down on the pedal and they were well on their way to rescue the pegasus from the clutches of the PLR, “These guys are really beginning to tick me off!”

“No shit!” Miles echoed as he maneuvered the remote controlled missile launcher towards the rear technicals as they pelted the hardened Humvee with rounds and rounds of 50.caliber bullets. “Take this, you fuckers!” The launcher reverberated as a shrieking missile struck the technical, causing it to spin uncontrollably and eventually crashing into a building, blowing up in the process.

Garrett was too busy pulling out his pistol and blasting away at the gunners of the speeding vehicles when he noticed something large and brown approaching from the rear. “That’s bollocks! We’ve got another Tunguska on our tails!”

“Shit!” Hershowitz grunted as both of them pulled their heads into the vehicle before the outside was filled with lead. “Miles! Take out that AA!”

“Already on it!” Miles pulled the trigger and sent another missiles soaring at the pursuing Tunguska, narrowly missing it as it continued firing at the Humvee. “Shit! I missed the shot!”

“Fuck me! Scotty, take another way out!” Scott immediately spun the wheel of the Humvee, causing it to skid towards the right to avoid the oncoming Tunguska. Barreling through stalls and stalls filled with various and useless goods, they ended up on an intersection with a hanging sign that showed the directions to the Monolith.

Scott looked to his left and found the technicals slowing down as they passed through the alleyways. The Tunguska however was still on their tail.

“Fuckin’ hell! Shoot it again!”

“Aye, aye! Missile out!” Miles shouted as the killing missiles screamed and finally gutted the Tunguska, sending its metal husk flying into the air and crashing into a wrecked bus. “Yes!”

“Keep your eyes peeled! We’re approaching the crash zone now!” Hershowitz barked as they reached an intersection where they would meet up with the techinicals once more. Miles responded by turning back the missile launcher on them before letting loose one more missile that destroyed another technical.

Another two supporting technicals emerged from the side of the Humvee, trying to put it into a vicegrip. Miles was unsure who to engage until finally he maneuvered the launcher onto the one to the left.

“Miles! Take that fucker out! I got the other one!” Hershowitz barked as his SCAR-L flared up, killing the gunner of the other one before his stream of bullets collided with the driver of the technical. A splatter of blood marked the kill as the technical was sent straight into the burnt out remains of a T-72, causing it to flip over and crash into the shattered streets.

“He’s a goner!” The missile launcher fired once more, destroying the flanking technical and sending its remains into the sign above. “Where are we, Scotty?!”

“On the 6th Kalishkaya District! We’re nearing the al-Montyak park!” It was then they heard the booms of a tank firing ahead and the sounds of RPG fire, before Hershowitz’s radio crackled to life.

“Retribution here, what’s happening down there?” Finally, now he could explain everything that had happened to accumulate into this intense chase. He was also slightly glad that maybe they would be able to get some armored support from the crew of the Retribution, but the most important things so far was Rainbow Dash taken hostage and the crashed Osprey.

“God fucking hell! Retribution, we have a hostage inside a tango I repeat, hostage inside a tango! And you wouldn’t believe it if I told you who that hostage is! We’re traveling down the streets with three technicals pursuing and multiple PLR incoming! Where the fuck are you?” Hershowitz took a breath in from the amount of words he spouted out.

He heard them mutter something off the radio before the tank’s main gun rumbled again. “Shit! We can hear that, Captain! We’re nearing the al-Montyak park near the Monolith! Are you guys there with the Osprey?” It was then he heard another familiar voice go through the radio.

“More of our boys? Fuck yes! Lead the technicals here, maybe the Retribution and us can set up an ambush for these Iranian bastards!” At that moment, Hershowitz as well as Scott and Miles immediately knew who was speaking.

The pilot of the Viper known as Gunslinger 5-7, the one who had saved them from total destruction in the village. But now was not the time to recollect memories and Hershowitz quickly responded.

“We can try that! But if we say do not shoot the lead technical, follow our orders! There’s a fucking pegasus that can talk stuck in the backseat!” It was a while before Noah responded, his voice showing that he was in dismay.

“Say that again, Lieutenant?” The launcher fired again and struck the third technical, leaving behind two speeding away towards the park.

“I said, we have a talking pegasus from a TV show as the PLR’s hostage, and I’m dead serious or else we wouldn’t be out here, wouldn’t we!?” Hershowitz angrily barked into the radio as he saw three soldiers appear on the rooftops, one of them holding an RPG. “Shit! RPGs!”

“Swervin’!” Scott responded as the RPG flared and nearly hit them, the wielder shortly killed by a trained burst from Hershowitz’s SCAR-L. Far ahead, they could see the flashes of light and the smoking ruins of the mighty Osprey, plus the wreck of a recently destroyed T-72 and the Retribution firing on the apartment blocks.

“PLR on the sidewalk!” Scott yelled as the PLR soldiers he mentioned popped up and engaged them from behind a neglected telephone booth. Miles spun his wrist, also spinning the launcher, and sent a missile that blew up the soldiers sky high.

The Captain returned to the radio. “Lieutenant, does the sniper still have ammo for his fifty caliber?” This was an odd question, but nevertheless Hershowitz asked the sniper who was busy changing the clip of his MP443.

“Let me check…” He returned to his seat. “Garrett! You still have ammo for the M82?” Garrett also returned to his seat as he felt his vest for the magazines.

“I still have three magazines left! Why’d ask so?” Garrett responded before blindfiring on the technicals ahead.

“I don’t know!” Hershowitz frantically responded, contacting Noah again. “Captain! Why’d you ask about it?” It was a while before the Captain responded as they edged closer to the Retribution and the Osprey.

“Good! Lieutenant, I need you to make a roadblock for them with the sniper facing the technical with the hostage!” It took both the sniper and the Lieutenant a while to realize what he meant.

“Wait a minute, you don’t mean to say…?”

“Yes, he’s going to have to snipe the engine block,” Noah responded as Garrett’s mind raced to accept this objective. “And we’re going to eliminate the other guys in the meantime!” Hershowitz grunted in approval and looked back  at the sniper.

“Sounds like a solid plan to me, let’s go! Scotty, full speed ahead! Make sure Garrett’s facing the technicals!” Hershowitz ordered, the grizzled engineer grunted in approval before they sped up, bypassing them in a matter of mere seconds.

It was not long before a speeding AP shell was sent spiraling at them from an alleyway, narrowly missing them for the fourth time today. “Shit! What the fuck was that?”

Garrett was the first to recognize what was coming out of the alleyway, the monstrous bulk of the same Russian tank they had squared off against earlier this week. “Now this is bloody ridiculous! We’ve got a bloody T-90 on our tails again!”

Hershowitz cursed to himself, this city was littered with these PLR bastards intending to gut all of them. The Retribution’s captain also cursed as he directed the barrel towards the pursuing T-90.

“Holy fuck! It’s firin’ again!” Scott yelled as another round shrieked past them, turning a part of the street ahead into a gaping crater. Very close to the downed Osprey, he hit the brakes and skidded onto the Humvee’s right. Garrett took this time to quickly re-equipped his Barrett M82 and deploy it for the neutralization of the technical with the cyan pegasus/hostage inside.

“Garrett’s ready! Give the go before we’re toast!” Hershowitz said once more as he noticed the pilot of the Osprey holding up a Javelin locking onto the T-90. He silently hoped they wouldn’t die for nothing.

Not yet, anyway.

It was a while before the order that will most likely save Rainbow Dash’s life was given. Now was the chance to be a hero again, but little mattered of that fact.

“Fire.” Everything slowed down as everyone from both sides fired all their weaponry in a heated exchange.

Chapter 6: Revelations

March 21st, 2014,

Markaz,

Tehran, Iran,

The storm of streaming projectiles slowed down the time for all of the beings in the area. The first one to actually hit anything besides the arid atmosphere of the city was Garrett’s surgically precise shot, striking the technical with Rainbow Dash at the engine block, causing it to stop functioning amidst the sounds of the screaming shells and bullets. The next projectiles to strike was the soaring missiles of both Gunslinger’s Javelin and the Humvee’s, both destroying the technicals that flanked the main one in a burst of fiery flames and metal

The duel between the twin heavy metal giants was started with the T-90’s AP shell striking the front portion of the Retribution, causing it to roll back and shudder from the impact, also causing a plate or two to fall off.

The T-90 was struck by the Abram’s AP shell directly onto the turret, causing the barrel of the tank to spontaneously combust and permanently removing its capabilities to neutralize anyone.

The shot technical eventually grinded to a halt due to the engine block being penetrated by a 50.BMG and the PLR soldier grunted in frustration behind the wheel as the battle continued, the hostage and him being in the middle of it.

“Lock on to that T-90!” Noah barked at Gunslinger who was busy loading in another missile and at Miles.

“Give me a second, sir! I’m reloadin’ this shit!”

“Missile loaded and firin’!” Miles yelled as he pulled the trigger and launched the killing missile into the broken T-90, blowing it up in a mere second. The PLR soldier inside the technical pulled out his AK and fired through the window, causing Gunslinger to get distracted before a PLR soldier’s bullet nearly gutted his face, his co-pilot carving a wide cave in his assailant’s head.

“Thanks for that save!” The co-pilot grunted in response as he reloaded the M417, grasping for a magazine. The Javelin was finished reloading and Gunslinger heaved it up for one last launch when he was reminded of something more important.

Medevac.

“Shit! Retribution, I’m gonna ditch the ‘lin! Have to contact command before we get lost in this hellhole!”

“Affirmative, we’ll cover you and the Marines in the meantime, over!” Noah responded to the pilot who rushed into the cockpit of the Osprey to contact command while the Retribution loaded another shell in, to the PLR’s horror. Their numbers were dwindling rapidly and to add to the embarrassment of the PLR, they were getting stomped on by a measly tank and a squad of Marines.

The firefight had tone down significantly, with the remaining PLR forces now on the run from the advancing marines as they pushed on towards the technical with the hostage inside. “Go, go, go!” Hershowitz barked as he fired upon the fleeing PLR, killing some of them while Scott was busy taking care of the gunman inside the technical.

Rainbow Dash however was totally scared out of her wits and tried to scream for help, hoping that whoever saved her earlier on will save her again. She may be Equestria’s fastest flyer, but nothing could prepare her for something this dark and violent. Hearing the thing in front of her shout a war cry before a splatter of blood covered the chair he was in, she closed her eyes and prepared for the worst.

Meanwhile, the two marines were secured outside the technical, the gunman having been taken care of. With Gunslinger frantically trying to re-operate the radio and the crew of the Retribution guarding them, they were not afraid of anything hostile. Hershowitz looked into the backseat and found the cyan pegasus battered and taped, trying to muffle something to her savior. Gripping the handle of the door, he yanked it open and called Scott over to assist him.

“Scotty! Here, help me with this one!” Hershowitz waved Scott over as he stowed away his SCAR and reached out to pull off the duct tape over Rainbow’s mouth. Scott was shocked to find Hershowitz helping Rainbow out of the vehicle and rubbed his eyes in disbelief. The battle had just ended with only casualties on the PLR's side, minus Gunslinger's co-pilot.

“Well, I guess that means you ain’t lyin’ ‘bout the whole thing!”

“Shut up!” Hershowitz barked as he heaved the pegasus who muttered something along the lines of ‘thank you’ to the Lieutenant. Everybody who laid their eyes on the heroic Lieutenant, his friend and the pegasus couldn’t say anything more. “You okay back there?”

“I’m…alright…” Rainbow muttered, still too terrified by the storm of projectiles that she was tortured by through the intense car chase as the Lieutenant heaved her to cover.

Garrett who had disembarked from the vehicle stood in disbelief a little more than a few steps away from the downed pegasus and the Lieutenant. “That’s bollocks…. Must be a dream!” He said before he slapped himself to snap him out of his dazed state, only to find that this was indeed reality.

“It ain’t a dream, Garry old buddy,” Scott replied as he un-holstered his M1911, his MTAR just fresh out of magazines. “I’m seeing it too.”

“No bloody shit,” Garrett responded as he watched the Lieutenant tend to the frightened pegasus who quivered. He could only sigh in dismay and turned his attention back to the wounded co-pilot of Gunslinger who laid against the Osprey, not even budging as his comrade was still trying to contact command.

“Hey, look up,” Hershowitz said, Rainbow looking up towards her savior’s eyes and snapping out of her sudden homesickness. Where she was stood a ruin of a city almost as big as Manehatten but more arid and wrecked.

“You’re gonna be alright, okay?” He spun his head to look at his fellow Marines who guarded him and Rainbow before turning back his attention to the pegasus. “We’re gonna be fine.”

“H-how’d you know t-that?” She quivered as she looked around, moving her hooves on the asphalt.

“I’ve been in a lot worse than this, trust me. You don't like to see what happened before this,” Hershowitz replied, trying to forget the day he lost almost all of Delta due to a PLR ambush.

He then got up but was promptly called back by the weak groans of the pegasus, exhausted from today’s chain of events. “Deep breathin’, just deep breathin'.” She nodded and let out a slow and refreshing breath, easing her worries.

“S-sir…?” Hershowitz looked down at her. “W-what happened here…?”

“Earthquake about four days ago. Our boys in the 1st Recon got scattered across the whole of this backdraft country,” he responded, trying to make as much sense to the confused pegasus. “So we’ve been fighting for survival.”

She gulped, confirming her worst fears. Although she had heard tales of valor from battered soldiers back in Canterlot, this was the real deal.

“Listen,” he spun towards the Osprey as Gunslinger ran out, his hands waving at the Lieutenant who waved back. “We’re gonna get you and those two guys outta here, it ain’t safe staying around here for long.”

“H-how?” She stammered. At this, Hershowitz got up and walked over to Gunslinger who had stopped, leaving behind the pegasus who looked up to the skies, hoping that it was just a bad dream.

“Gunslinger!” Hershowitz beckoned to the pilot, who held out his hand to shake with the Lieutenant.

“Hershowitz! I thought I’ll never see your sorry ass over here!”

“Same here,” Hershowitz replied, shaking the hands of the pilot before looking at the crashed Osprey. “So how’s the status of our pick up?”

It was then Gunslinger’s head drooped down lowly. Hershowitz immediately picked up on this. “Sorry to say, but I think we aren’t going to get any medevac soon…”

“Why the fuck not?” Hershowitz said, his hope for rescue slowly diminishing.

“The damn radio’s gone, the crash totally destroyed it.”

“Fuck…” He strode over to the hull of the Osprey before he slammed it out of pure anger, causing the pilot to stumble back. “FUCK!” Scott spun his head to face his angered friend, and so did the rest of them.

“Our way out, fucking gone!” He shouted in frustration. He didn’t want to stay in Iran anymore, he wanted to go back home to his family.

“Sorry…” Gunslinger said as he rubbed the back of his head in dismay before attending to his co-pilot, who began coughing out spats of blood. Hershowitz took a look at the wounded co-pilot and immediately began to wither away his rage. Scott walked next to him and put a firm palm onto his shoulder.

“Listen, bud,” Scott began, Hershowitz relaxed. “I know you’re mad and shit, but that doesn’t mean we’re gone,” Scott continued, Hershowitz nodded. “Even if we can’t get back to base, we still are a team. Fightin’ as a team, workin’ as a team and most importantly, survivin’ as a team.”

“He’s right,” The both of them turned as saw Garrett with his MP443 at hand walking towards them. “We still are a band of brothers.”

Hershowitz’s rage finally nulled, he began to bulk up. “You guys are right to the max,” he replied, causing the two of them to also lighten up.

“Indeed, you bastard.” Hershowitz gave Garrett a playful shove before turning his attention back to Rainbow, who had trotted up to the trio.

“So what’re we gonna do now? We have Gunslinger and his wounded friend,” He looked down at Rainbow again, who tried to smile. “Plus her too.”

“I don’t know, should we find a place to set up base for a while? Isn’t that what people always do during disaster movies?” Scott replied, scavenging for ideas.

“Sounds like a plan, but the PLR are definitely going to come back with a bigger force since Iran’s under their control.” Garrett and Scott nodded as the Retribution wavered in the background, along with the Humvee Miles was still in.

“Take the risk, we can’t move any farther until we find another Humvee. The chances of that is practically one to a million fucks!” Scott replied as he checked his M1911.

“Alright, then we’ll go with the base idea,” Hershowitz agreed before contacting the crew of the Retribution.

“Retribution here, what’s our status?”

“We’re fine for now, but we don’t have any evac enroute sooner or later. So that means we’re gonna have to find a place to settle down until command sends in a task force to bust our sorry asses out of this place.” The Retribution’s crew was silent for a while until they responded.

“Affirmative, sounds like a good idea anyway.” He sighed a breath of relief, before kneeling down to converse with the cyan pegasus, who looked surprised at the Lieutenant who looked as if he was conversing to the air which responded back.

“So what’re we gonna do now, sir?” She asked, feeling a lot more confident.

“Well, we’re gonna find a place to set up camp for the day and hope that the guys who kidnapped you is not gonna stab us while we’re sleeping,” Hershowitz responded. “And in the meanwhile, we’ll try to help you since we know you just fucking dropped out of the sky.”

She tilted her head at the use of obscene language by the marine, but shrugged and went along. “Thanks, sir.”

“You’re welcome, still need a brief breakdown of us before we go?” Hershowitz asked the cyan pegasus who was busily observing the ruined remains of Markaz, snapping out of her trance and paying attention to the marine.

“Err… well, what are you guys?”

“We’re Marines, part of the 1st Reconnaissance Battalion,” Hershowitz responded as he ejected the clip of his SCAR to check his ammo levels before inserting it back.

“Um… that’s pretty awesome and stuff, but what are you?”

Hershowitz pondered for the answer. “We’re humans, ever heard of them?”

“Err…. The only times I heard about humans is when Lyra’s ranting about them at her house,” Rainbow answered, rubbing her head.

“Okay…” Hershowitz replied as the Humvee honked, signaling the impatient machine gunner. “Well, there goes the discussion time.” Scott made his way towards the Humvee, opening the door to the driver’s seat and planting himself firmly onto the chair.

“We’re gonna move out now, better get your ass moving if you don’t want to get left behind,” Hershowitz said gruffly as he and Garrett walked towards the Humvee, Rainbow following suit.

“Err… yes, sir!” Rainbow stuttered, causing the two marines to chuckle. The faraway pilot and co-pilot saw them beginning to move out and decided to tag along, not wanting to be left behind. Gunslinger’s co-pilot grunted as he tried to raise himself up, needing Gunslinger himself to help him up as he clutched his injuries. Making their way towards the Humvee, they knocked on the window of it, causing Scott to roll it down.

“Sorry, bud. We’re outta room here.”

“We see that,” Gunslinger replied as they turned their heads towards the tank. “Maybe we can hitch a ride on the tank like that game…?”

“Maybe, if some jackass predator alien thing doesn’t jack it first,” Scott jokingly replied as he watched them stumble away towards the tank, before Gunslinger heaved his friend up onto the tank before he himself got onto the tank.

“Retribution here, you sure you guys can stay on the tank…?”

“No worries, we know what we’re doin’!” Gunslinger responded as he shot a thumbs up towards the Humvee.

“Well, we gonna move now, sir?” Scott asked Hershowitz with Rainbow on his lap, looking outside at the remains of the park.

“Yep, let’s go before they send in another group,” Hershowitz replied as Scott hit the pedal, causing the Humvee to drive forwards to Rainbow’s sudden surprise.

“Whoa! What’s this thing anyway?”

“It’s called a Humvee, basically it’s kinda of a motorized carriage that can take a whole lotta punishment,” Scott replied instead as they proceeded in front of the tank, which rumbled to life.

“That’s cool…” Rainbow said before letting out a yawn, spreading her blackened wings to the Lieutenant’s and the sniper’s dismay. “I’m kinda sleepy…”

“Well, go ahead and take a nap, it’s gonna be a long ride,” Hershowitz said as he relaxed himself. The convoy was well on their way to set up base somewhere inside the city.

Today’s run of the mill event’s had just ended, but that doesn’t mean that the action doesn’t stop.

Chapter 6: Russians

March 21st, 2014/

Khodinka, Moscow,

Four hours after Markaz incursion,

The cold office was reflecting on the man’s mood today; cold and unforgiving. Such was the life of normal Russian citizens, but he was a little more different.

He was the head of GRU, Russia’s premium foreign intelligence agency and he had lost contact with four heavily armed agents in Iran in search for their stolen nukes. He had a bad enough day, but it was going to go downhill from there as he slowly shifted the mouse on the computer, responding to a new email from his secretary, concerning the drafting of two elite GRU agents to deal with the matter.

He sighed again, and took out a cigar, lighting it up with an aged chrome lighter. Just then, he saw the contents of the email being lit up by the dim sunlight. Written there was something he rued, that today would be the arrival of those very agents.

In less than a minute, he had put on a trench coat and walked outside of his office, flipping over the sign to say it was closed. Walking past rows of cubicles and computers accompanied by his secretary, he reached the main lobby where two heavily armed Russians stood, their dark black uniforms reflecting on their tales of black ops brutality. He shuddered; even he wouldn’t toy with these men.

“So you are Igor Sergun, are we right?” The one on the left said, looking around and waiting for something to happen.

“Indeed, and you are the men that Putin has sent over for the mission?”

“You’re looking at them right here,” The one on the right responded as his comrade pulled out a small revolver to polish it before his comrade nudged him, causing him to re-holster it. “Sorry about that, Ivanich here likes his guns a little too much.”

“Never mind that, Tatyana?” The secretary straightened herself up and quickly handed a dossier full of classified information, which Sergun took the liberty of waving them back towards his office. “This is the dossier on your mission. Classified stuff, so you two have to meet me in my office.”

“Affirmative, Director,” Ivanich responded as their gear bounced around as they strode over to Sergun’s office, to the staff’s amazement at the sight of such elite agents. Once reaching his room, he waved for Tatyana to close the door leaving the three men in silence in a soundproof office illuminated by a desk light.

“Feels a little like those American noir movies,” The agent next to Ivanich responded as Sergun tossed the dossier onto the table, revealing a picture of an Iranian man.

“Cut the chatter, we have to get to the point ASAP,” Sergun gruffly responded, having no time for such trivial entertainment. “This man right here,” he plucked the picture of the Iranian out of an observing Ivanich who groaned in dismay.

“He is the leader of Iran as of right now, Farouk Al-Bashir. An unknown inside agent has somehow procured three of our highly prized nukes and has given them to this man,” Sergun explained as he pulled out a white sheet of paper, listed on it were the first response team sent to pursue after the nukes. “Our first team was sent to go after these nukes and promptly eliminated by a well placed PLR ambush near the location of Tehran.”

Sergun pulled out another one of the sheets, as the agent next to Ivanich yawned causing Ivan to slap him on the back. “Ow! What was that for?!”

“Are you even paying attention, Reznov? You look like a disgrace if you do that!” Sergun grunted, causing the bickering man to quiet down.

“As I was continuing, we’ve sent another team over, this time accompanied by a friendly tank and a light helicopter. We lost contact with them this morning. Judging from their radio chatter, we’ve deduced that the assailants,” Sergun sighed, he was going to feel very ticked off with what killed his men after he would say the name of the responsible party. “Are the US Force Recon Marines.”

This caused Ivanich and Reznov to growl in anger at the term of the pigs. They knew very well that they’ve been combating against the terror of the PLR in Iran for a few months now, and Russia’s second attempt to get what they had back was promptly ended by a group of rugged Americans instead.

“How did that happen and how many were there?”

“Four Marines and one tank. If you want how many PLR troopers were there, let me put a load of tadpoles into an Antonov, shall we?” The GRU director responded as he reached the actual explanation of their objectives. “Now then, as for today’s assignment. We now know that probably sending over more then three men is going to produce worst results, so we’ve decided to bring only the two of you in.”

“And?”

“And of course, you’re dropping into Iran to look for those nukes, avenge your comrades and as a bonus objective if you can, kill Al-Bashir and his conspirator,” Sergun finished, his cigar also almost done as he pulled it out and tossed it away into the dustbin to the two Russian’s delight

“We’re happy to avenge them in any way. So where is our ride?”

“Glad you asked, we’ve got a jet stationed at the nearby airport. ETA to Iran will be by dusk and drop off will be by HALO jump. So gear up, we’re leaving with haste,” Sergun said as he stood up and walked to the door, knowing that whoever sent these men here was still outside waiting for them. As he predicted, a shiny black jeep was parked outside, the driver waiting inside as if he were a robot or so. Sergun sighed and waved for the armed agents to get in the car, but not before informing Tatyana that he might be running a little late, basically putting her in temporary charge of the building. After that, Sergun managed and sat across them, slamming the door shut. With black tinted windows, the GRU director had nothing to fear as the car rumbled and began moving on the road.

The trip itself took about an hour to the Khodinka airport, filled with awaiting tourists and stocked with planes of all sorts, including some military Antanovs that the agents will use to drop off in Markaz. Sergun was growing very impatient with his task and how much resources he had expended just to get three nukes back from the hands of an unknown terrorist and his lackeys.

Mind you, Russian-made nukes.

He sought to relieve some of his pent-up stress by trying to converse with the two other Russians, who were busy checking their pistols to his dismay. No wonder why the West always generalized them as sadistic, pistol-whipping and drunken men. Still, he couldn’t blame them entirely.

“So,” Sergun began as the jeep stopped at an intersection. “Do you two have any…information that you will like to share?”

“Does wrestling a Siberian tiger count?” Reznov grunted, followed by Ivanich’s stifled chuckles.

“No, like shoving a T-72 up your ass loaded with a HE shell,” Sergun harshly responded, causing Reznov to back down and Ivanich’s face to turn into a sour expression.

“I was only joking, sir,” he responded as he holstered his MP412 Rex and wound down the windows to take a good look at the scenery outside. “You forgot your laughbox or something?”

“Son,” Sergun huffed. “I work as the goddamned head of GRU, do you think I have the time to even laugh?”

“No, sir,” Reznov begrudgingly responded, clearly dismayed at the coldness of the director and sat inside the jeep in silence, much to the chagrin of Ivanich who sat in the other corner and watched the people of Russia do their own business. He sighed, knowing that he was just weeks away to permanent retirement from the black operations business, so that he could tend to his aging parents.

“What about you, Ivanich?”

“Oh, nothing, sir,” he responded. “I’m just hoping that I’ll come back alive before my retirement.”

“Don’t worry,” Sergun responded, knowing that Russians don’t die that easily. “You’ll make it back.” The burly director then pulled out his phone, which happened to be on silent mode and therefore vibrating as per office rules and answered it, leaving Ivanich and Reznov in silence.

“So,” Ivanich began as Reznov looked at him. “We’re just going to drop into Iraq, get whatever we need and get out?”

“Yep, with the bonus of killing the head... Osama?”

“It’s Bashir.”

“Oh, Bashir,” Reznov replied, checking up on his gear as the car turned left into a busy district populated by vagrants and more businessmen and women.  Seeing a 7-11, it made him hungry. “When was the last time we ate?”

“This morning, standard MRE for breakfast.”

“Damn, and now we’re here in town with all the goulashes in the world.”

“Shut up,” Ivanich growled. “I’m hungry too.”

“Ok, boss,” Reznov replied as he relaxed to the racket that Sergun was putting up, talking to his co-worker or general or whatever about some ‘misdirected teleportation device’. “Just gonna take a nap.”

“Sounds good to me too,” Ivanich said as he adjusted himself to make it more comfortable to sleep, grabbing his personal pillow from his bag that was in the back of the jeep. It seemed a little silly, but it’ll have to do. As Reznov began to snore, Ivanich slowly flickered until he fell asleep; just as the radio station the jeep was somehow on began talking about the recent Iraq-Iran earthquake and the continued presence of the Americans there.

“Can’t wait to fucking find out what’s going to happen in the desert.”

The dusty atmosphere of the room was hard enough for your standard militant, and to Bashir it was unbearable.

Taking the reins of a scattered and disorganized community was even harder than it looks like. And now, he was just sitting on a metal foldable chair, slowly being fried by the scorching sun through the uniquely carved out windows of the residence as he groaned under the sounds of his men barking at the struggling citizens below.

“Be quiet and you will all get your food!”

This only caused Bashir to groan again. The way his men were treating the people was a little… worrying. But at least he had them under his control, or else the whole situation would’ve gone out of hand.

“Ugh… I need to find an AK and shoot some Marines…” he grumbled to himself, just as his two sub-ordinates walked it with RPDs, talking about something he never thought was something we would hear about in the Middle East.

“… So you like Applejack more?”

“Of course!”

“Well, I can’t blame you.”

What the fuck? Are they really talking about…?

“My favorite pony is Rarity, no doubt.”

“Allah, she’s such a bitchy one, just like American wife,” the one on the left said, causing the two of them to start laughing to Bashir’s dismay. He expected better, but this? This was just one way to get pissed off. Finding out that your men watch a girls’ TV show, especially when they’re your second-in-command.

Bashir got up and started walking to the toilet to wash his face, cursing away at his two comrades for liking the show. He remembered his daughter watching it, but not anything else. He hated it, for it was too bright and colorful for him.

As he went about his business to the toilet, someone called out to him through another dark doorway unlit by the sun. “So, how are you doing today?”

“Solomon,” Bashir responded, knowing about his Russian assistant. Solomon was an intriguing fellow, a man of few words. With his surprising amount of intelligence about both Russian GRU and American CIA, he was one of Bashir’s most trusted assistants before and after the coup of the Iranian government.

“Yes, it’s me again,” the former CIA operative said as he emerged from the cover of the shadows while adjusting his personal Taurus Model 44. “I’ve been snooping around the Americans' databases, nothing much except for a tank convoy they’re sending in later this year.”

“We’ll be ready for that,” Bashir said as he went over to the sink and turned it on, letting cold water pour over his clammy hands. As he washed his face, Solomon took this opportunity and went to tell him about today’s journey into the abyss of Iran.

“So, our men came back today with a… severe amount of causalities.”

“How many?”

“Three T-72s gone, almost five technicals and quite a number of our men.”

“Who took them out?”

“Four Marines, one tank and two pilots of a helicopter,” Solomon responded, Bashir lifting his face up to the mirror. “And from what they say, there’s something else very strange.”

“What is it? Your dating service managed to pick someone up?”

“No, and shut up about it,” Solomon growled in response to that silly phone number he bought and disguised as a dating service when it was actually a PLR line. “Anyway, your men say they saw an speeding angel from above into Markaz, and actually caught it.”

“An angel from Allah? Impossible. What did it look like?”

“Well, it’s a little sketchy,” Solomon said. “But judging from what they have left, it was…blue, looked like a horse or a pony to be exact, had wings and was very, very pissing to deal with.”

That was when Bashir’s eyes widened. There was only one thing that looked like that. And to find that, he had to go all the way back before the coup…

No, not now.

“So what do you want me to do about it?”

“Well, I’ve calculated how fast this…angel can go, from what the men have said,” Solomon responded, twirling the revolver before holstering it and pulling out a cigar. “Just as fast as a Su-25, and certainly faster than your regular ICBM.”

“Wait,” Bashir said walking out of the toilet and into the room again. “So what does this have to do with my men and our nation?”

“With all due respect,” the Russian began. “I think that the capture of this so-called angel would be imperative.”

“Why so?”

Solomon grinned and pulled out a picture from his pocket, revealing a nuclear device that Kaffarov had provided for him two months back.

“Because I have just the perfect plan for it.”

Chapter 7: Nightfall

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter 4: Ghost City

March 21st, 2014/

Markaz,

Tehran, Iran,

1135 Hours,

The remains of the great city known as Markaz stood in silence, withering away at the hands of time. The once towering office buildings now lay still and in conditions worst to wear. On the city’s floor lay a graveyard of souls, both broken and innocent. The remains of wracked vehicles scoured the terrain like the aftermaths of Hiroshima after the bombs dropped. The corpses of dead US Marines scattered on the shaken roads, and their vehicles burnt to a crisp with little remaining of their servitude.

On the far reaches of the city, the loud spinning of helicopter blades reverberated throughout the ghost city as it scanned the blocks for any survivors.

“You seeing anyone down there?”

“That’s a negative, no signs of activity from our boys. This is our third run already.”

“Keep searching, High Command says that they’ve picked up some movement from Markaz earlier on, might be some poor bastards stuck out here.”

The aerial VTOl, a V-22 Osprey, hovered over the streets, still searching for the Marines stranded in the earthquake ruined city. It continued moving along until they reached a small ruined park surrounded by small marts and a restaurant.

“Shit, man. I’m telling you, nothing is out here- A sharp scream from an incoming RPG nearly hit the Osprey.

“Holy fuck! PLR forces inbound! Get us outta here!”

“On it!” Suddenly, a hailstorm of bullets contacted the hull of the Osprey as PLR forces hidden in the ruins made their move. The Osprey lifted itself up and engaged its twin bladed engines, sending them away from the PLR soldiers and hovering above an unseen T-72.

“Shit! Enemy tank below us! It’s gonna-The aged tank maneuvered its barrel up and blasted the right engine of the Osprey, turning it into a ball of flames and scrap metal.

“Osprey going down! I repeat, Osprey going down- The Osprey swirled and swirled in the air until it landed near the T-72 which had shot them, crashing into the shattered streets and causing a long dirt trail, also knocking aside husks of civilian sedans.

“This is Osprey 5-7! We're downed in the city of Markaz! We need immediate assistance!”

Half an hour earlier, 1105 hours,

The Retribution and the Humvee containing the four scarred Marines rumbled outside the entrance of the Markaz, stopping to take a look at the sign which read the directions of where the various cities of Iran were.

“Looks like we’re in the right place,” Scott commented on the crooked sign, aged through the times. “We gonna enter this mess of the city?”

“We’re going to have to, because there’s no way of getting supplies at Azadi,” Hershowitz replied gruffly as he shuffled in his seat, Garrett just looking out of the window at the brown and shattered scenery. The British sniper sighed, trying to remember his kids back in London.

Miles was busy scanning the area for PLR hostiles, and found not one but three technical moving up ahead. But something else caught his view, a speeding blur from above as he scanned the skies for a USAF chopper.

“Whoa shit! Did command say they were going to send a plane in?”

“No, why?”

“Because what I see now is… kinda of a plane!” The speeding blur approached, and Miles zoomed in on this curious sight. “It…. looks like it’s on fire!”

“What the literal fuck? Give me that screen,” Hershowitz moved towards the machine gunner’s spot and took a look at the screen. He let out a slow whistle as he stared at this ghastly sight.

“Retribution, we’re seeing an unidentified object approaching our vector,” Miles rang into his radio as the object became visible with a bright cyan coloring. “And holy fuck, it’s colorful.”

“Retribution here, we acknowledge that. And we see the PLR ahead, best if we stay put.”

“That’s a good idea, until they move out,” Hershowitz responded this time as Miles continued to watch this cyan blur move out in the disturbed sky. It was then his jaw gaped as he now recognized what it was.

“Sir…? Are you seeing this shit?” Hershowitz spun to look at the screen, the missile launcher aimed above just in case it was an enemy plane descending on them to give them hell. Even Scott was intrigued by this and tilted his body to his left, to take a look.

All of them were speechless. What they saw was never possible.

“Well, fuck me with a loaded revolver, isn’t that the thing my daughter watches at home?”

“No, shit, Sherlock.” Hershowitz replied, unaware that the crew of the Retribution could hear them talking.

“What’s going on there? Some kind of a meteor?”

“If you were here, Noah. I think you would’ve shat your pants like the 4th of July,” Miles responded, still shocked at what this speeding and flaming object was. It was now closer than ever, and he calculated the velocity of this thing. It would them in less than a minute until it suddenly slowed down and... made a face?

“Wait a fucking minute, did it just…?”

“Yep, it made a face. At us.” Scott replied, also unaware that the PLR ahead also saw it, them too, and they quickly made adjustments to engage this potential threat.

“Holy shit! It’s gonna hit us!”

“Everybody! Brace for impact!” Garrett, who sat behind unnoticed, began to wonder what ruckus what happening in the front seat.

The object was none other than a character from a show popular with children. Rainbow Dash herself.

“If my daughter were here, she’d be screamin’ for joy but no! I’m stuck here in fuckin’ Iran!” Scott said as he went back to his seat, pulling the pedal backwards and causing the Humvee to respond.

“Shut it, Scotty! Reverse this shit!”

“On it!” Scott reversed, the Retribution’s crew who had no idea what was happening also complying with the sudden change of direction of the Humvee.

“Shit! What’re you guys doin’?” Noah said, his two other operators also exchanging glances as Fairfield observed the PLR now moving out into the open, waving their hands at the supposed object in the sky. In the crowd of the mass of PLR soldiers stood out a Tunguska AA and two T-72s who now noticed the Retribution’s hull shining in the heat of the day.

“Uh… Scotty? I think we better move our asses before-The blur was now barely inches from striking them when it decided to curve, sending it sailing into the heart of Markaz blazingly fast, the Tunguska which the Marines now saw keeping aim for it.

The T-72s now angled their barrels up for the Retribution and the ASRAD Humvee, and they also complied.  “It’s going to be one hell of a ride.”

“Let’s bring hell to these PLR bastards, and follow that fast mover.” Hershowitz barked as he went back into his seat, slamming the windows open to allow for free fire. Miles was now locked on to the left T-72 while the Retribution’s crew took aim at the right one.

“Open fire, boys!” The exchange of explosives shook the city as the missile of the Humvee struck the T-72, sending it aflame. The other T-72 didn’t fare much better as the AP shell of the Retribution gouged out the top of the tank, destroying it in one shot.

“Scott! Hit the pedal and follow that fucker!”

“Got it!” The Humvee roared to life and sped towards the PLR contingent, sending them scattering towards cover. The heavily damaged T-72 tried to angle its barrel towards the speeding vehicle but was gutted by the Retribution’s crew as they followed the Humvee into Markaz.

Today was going to hell. And with the addition of one certain and supposedly fictional pegasus it wasn’t going to help the convoy of US soldiers.

The Humvee followed the flaming trails of the flying object, still within sight of their missile launcher. The Tunguska earlier on now was also pursuing it, guns blazing as it swept the side of a building and causing a large tear in the buildings' exteriors.

“Miles! Take that fucking AA out now!”

“On it!” Miles spun the launcher at the speeding AA, and pushed the trigger sending a missile headed for it. It slammed into the hull of the Tunguska and promptly blew it up with one shot. The Retribution however was left behind in the dust, the crew losing sight of the Humvee and their allies.

“Shit! Slow down! We ain’t gonna catch up to you guys!”

“Captain, get your asses towards the Monolith! We’ll meet you there!” Hershowitz shouted into his microphone as they matched up with the blur, which now slowed down considerably. The object was then truly identified as the elusive Rainbow Dash from the show.

“Damn! And I thought the ‘quake couldn’t be much better!” Scott commented on the presence of the pegasus who now looked back at the pursuing Humvee and flinched vsibly. She tried to speed up but it was clear that the trail of flames left her wings blackened and probably tired out with the crew of the Humvee who were free looking at her in dismay. Scott looked back at the road and found that they were on a collision course with a building, the PLR forces now visible on the rear. Their technicals blasted the Humvee and Miles answered with the quick rotation of the launcher and blasted one of them to oblivion.

“Shit! We’re gonna hit the building!” Hershowitz grunted, Garrett reeling in the back seat trying to deploy his Barrett.

“Hit the breaks!”

“Got it!” The foot of the engineer slammed onto the breaks, sending the Humvee skidding to a halt and almost crashing it into the building. The being know as Rainbow Dash looked up and gaped before she was sent crashing into the glass building, throwing her into a pillar.

“Holy fuck! She just blitzed into that building!” Miles remarked as the Humvee spun, its sides facing the moving technicals.

“Miles! Stay here with Scotty and help fend off these fuckers! Garrett, on me!” Hershowitz barked as he kicked the door open, sliding outside with his SCAR ready. Garrett nodded and followed what the Lieutenant did, pulling out his MP443 in response.

“Go, go, go!” The PLR technical’s HMGs flared up from beyond, hitting the Humvee, which Miles responded with another homing missile, reducing another of the technicals into dust and metal.

Hershowitz and Garrett bunched up at the twin doors of the office, before they opened them and lifted their weapons up.

“Tell me again, are we really rescuing what seems to be a byproduct of the heat?”

“Maybe, it seems so goddamned important if we drove that can of metal over here,” Hershowitz replied as they inspected every corner of the hall they were in, the sounds of heavy fire still audible. Bullets then began to ring in as they both raced for cover near an emergency staircase illuminated by only a single hanging fluorescent lamp. Garrett quickly regained composure and popped out from a flipped table to set up his M82, on it’s last two shots.

The remaining technical had skidded to a halt and still fired on the Humvee, now pocketed with bullets on the rear but no damage to the front. Scott braced himself as the gunner of the Browning edged his bullets closer to the both of them as Miles repositioned the launcher.

“See you in hell!” The launcher sent a spiraling missile into the last PLR technical, sending it high into the air and causing a mini mushroom cloud of debris. They both sighed in relief that the armored threats were now gone, but the staccato of bullets kept them at bay.

“Miles! Take point and blow these bastards up! I’m goin’ down to help ya!”

“Thanks, Scotty!” the grizzled engineer kicked the door open, his MTAR almost low of ammunition, and took cover behind the front of the Humvee. Popping out of cover, he sprayed a particular car which gave protection to two PLR soldiers and the bullets pinged off it uselessly, causing the troopers to pop out as well and let loose their guns.

Meanwhile, Hershowitz had sprinted up the stairwell until the sign had said it was the fifth floor. Bracing himself at the door, he waited until he was reloaded. Breathing in, he slammed the door open, causing the sound to reverberate in the building. Garrett meanwhile was busily sniping unfortunate gunmen attempting to take out the three Marines in the firefight, the latest victim having his head blown off by a 50.caliber in less than a millisecond.

The missile launcher on the Humvee blasted again, striking a nearby general store and blowing it up killing the PLR troopers taking cover inside. “Scratch three!”

“Nice shot, Miles!” Scott complimented as the MTAR clicked out of ammo, causing him to curse under his breath and the sound of gunfire. The British’s sniper echoed again as it’s last bullets scored a collateral against two gunmen.

“I’m outta bullets! Cover me!” Garrett spoke into the radio as he searched for the magazine of the M82 on his vest, the others complying as they covered the sniper.

Meanwhile upstairs, Hershowitz glanced around the room at first sight. After confirming this was the floor that this probably fictional character crashed into by looking at a gaping hole from the right, he proceeded in with his SCAR up to bear on anyone attempting to engage him. The loose wiring made him shudder; it wasn’t easy keeping your cool in the battlefield.

It was then he heard something groan in pain, and he immediately activated his laser before moving out. After moving out into this office littered with cubicles, he found the pegasus laying against a pillar, bruised and her wings clearly in pain.

She took one look at him before letting out an audible gulp, Hershowitz also did too, because meeting a character from a children’s show in the middle of a war zone was all that unnerving.

“Whoa… wh-what happened?” She stammered weakly, now looking at her wings which she tried to flutter but causing her to flinch in pain.

He wasn’t sure what to say, but he tried to calm her down. “You crashed into a building, you okay?”

She had her jaws agape, clearly not accustomed to seeing a bipedal, geared up creature speak perfect Equestrian.

“Y-you can sp-speak Equestrian?”

“It’s English, and I can. Come on,” Hershowitz stowed his gun away and rushed over to try and help this wounded pegasus, her bloody scratches visible.

“H-hey!” She jabbed him in the face, causing him to recoil a bit backwards.

“Gah! Fucking… Let me help you!” Hershowitz grunted as he approached this hotheaded pegasus one more time.

“N-no! Leave me alone!” He sighed, and was not sure what to do next. Having a live talking pegasus was bad enough, but it not being cooperative was going to the next level of bullshit.

“If you want to sit here and die slowly, it’s fine by me,” Hershowitz responded coldly. “But if you want some medical attention, then stay still.”

“W-why should I trust you..? And where in Faust am I..?”

“Welcome to Iran,” Hershowitz replied to the pegasus, who shuddered at the word ‘Iran’. It clearly stated that she wasn’t back in Ponyville, and not even close to anywhere she knew of.

“W-what? What’s a-an Iran?”

“It’s a dirty place, and stay still,” Hershowitz responded as he pulled out a small box from his waist. “This might hurt you a little.” He pulled out a bottle containing a sickly smelling liquid and a cotton bud. After dipping the cotton bud into the bottle, he slowly applied it to one of the wounds of the cyan pegasus causing her to yelp in pain.

“O-oww! That stings!”

“If you knew what I was up against, this is just the topping of the cake,” Hershowitz rubbed the cotton bud against the other wounds before flicking it away and pulling a pack of plasters up. He was a combat medic too, and this was what he dealt with during his service albeit the wounds he treated were bullet wounds, not tiny scratches.

Soon, there were plasters everywhere on Rainbow’s body, and she began to feel much better than before. She struggled to get up, to Hershowitz’s predicament and eventually got onto her four hooves. “T-thank you… sir… ?”

“It’s Lieutenant Hershowitz,” He responded gruffly as he re-equipped his SCAR and leveled it upwards. “If you can at least move around, then I suggest we get out of here ASAP.”

“...Why?” Rainbow asked, hearing the noise of something thumping beneath them. Hershowitz looked across the room and spotted three PLR soldiers entering the room, shouting random Iranian barks.

“Shit!” He said, waving for her to get down. “It’s gonna get real violent our here, stay down until-The bullets started and he immediately ducked behind the cubicles.

“Wh-wha!” Rainbow yelped as she covered her head with her hooves before slinking away as quiet as she could over the sounds of odd devices rattling with the streams of gold following soon after. Over the sounds of the firefight, she could hear something heavy below explode in symphony with the battle here. Not knowing where she would be headed or where the Lieutenant was, she continued slinking her way until she thumped into something soft. Looking up, she saw the covered face of a surprised creature who leveled its rifle at her.

“ القرف المقدسة!” It spoke, she didn’t know what it said before it suddenly shuddered with its gun placed at her. She gulped, sweat travelling down her forehead before it tilted its head in dismay. She slowly started to slink away when with a free hand, it viciously grabbed her ruffled mane causing her to yelp again in pain.

“Ow! Lemme go-In a heartbeat, her back was placed against the chest of her taker and she could see Hershowitz coming out of cover, his device flaring up as another of the taker’s comrades fell. Whistling, the Lieutenant spun his head and brought his rifle to bear only to find the pegasus being grappled by a PLR soldier, his KH2002 pointed towards her head.

“American pig! Drop the gun or the beast dies!” At that moment, his radio crackled to reveal another set of frantic voices that was not his fellow Marines.

“This is Osprey 5-7! We’re downed in the city of Markaz! We need immediate assistance!” He grunted, not only was he stuck in a hostage crisis with a cyan pegasus from a TV show as the hostage but also the downed crew of an Osprey were stuck fighting for their lives in this damned city after he guessed that an RPG took out their vehicle.

Nothing could get even worse then this.