Mind Games

by LongStoryShort

Squad Up!

Button trotted down the street towards Ponyville’s center. This was definitely his day.

He couldn’t wait to get to tell all of his friends about what happened last night. How he would gloat when his friends would give him all of their oohs and ahhs! He’d love to see them drive their hooves into the ground when he would tell them about how he beat David in that burning diner of a cannibalistic town with no sweat. He would tell them of the diamonds, the armor, and the portal to the Nether. Sweetie Belle would be so impressed.

“Oh, pony, today is going to be awes-“

Button’s face kissed the leg of a tall, sturdy pony. The contact was returned with a kick to the face. The eyes in his head rolled for several seconds.

“Hey, I’m walking here, watch where you’re go-“

His gaze was met with a dark brown pegasus who eyed him curiously. That wasn’t the weird part.

The weird part was that he was carrying standard-issue gear for the U.S. Medic. The helmet on his head bore the unmistakable flag of the fictional equestrian nation. Stars and stripes badges adorned the shoulders of his uniform. On his pouches, he carried a combat knife, extra mags, a spotting mirror, and several grenade tubes. In his hooves were an M320 grenade launcher, an M16A4, and a pair of gloves that held them in place.

Button couldn’t believe that he recognized his gear so quickly. What was more astonishing was that a Battleplains soldier was standing right in front of him.

“You don’t talk buffalo-shit to me, soldier! I’m a level 100 Colonel!” the tough stallion replied.

“Take it easy on the noob, man! He’s just starting out!” another voice called.

The Medic turned to his left, facing a pony running towards him. The latter stallion reached his comrade, and stopped in front of him.

Button’s mouth extended several feet, touching the ground and drooling continuously. He knew that beard and baseball cap. That SMAW. That blowtorch. Those M15 AT mines. Two Battleplains soldiers now stood in front of him; one Medic, one Engineer.

“You know we’re some of the first few soldiers they meet on the battlefield. We’re supposed to give good impressions, you know,” the Engineer continued.

“Big deal. I’ve got a shitbucket under my chair. He doesn’t.”

“One, that’s disgusting. Two, not all level 100’s have shitbuckets. Take a look at LevelClop!” he reasoned.

“We’re still going to be the dominant force on the battlefield, you know. We’re gonna be murdering the kid left, right, left, right. Ain’t nothing he can do about that.”

“You were once like that too, you know. When you’d sit at the top of the hotel on Oman, and sni-“

“Noone needs to know about that.”

“Then, you were snuck up on by DOOM49 and his buddies. It was hilarious when they made a C4 trail that went down the ladder to the pool. Then, they shot the one at the end with a .44-“

“Don’t finish that,”

“Want to push you luck?” the Engineer smiled.

The Medic faced down his ally. He dropped his M16A4. The once iron-like pony was now defeated.

“Fine. You win.”

“All right, then,” said the Engi. “We better get to the town center and cap the flag.”

“No worries, boys. I got it covered!”

The Medic and Engineer’s ears perked up. They eyed the area carefully, then turned to face another stallion.

“Hey, guys!”

“Aww, shit, not you!” the duo called.

Button’s mouth, if it could get any wider, could now fit the length of the entire Ponyville Train Line.

The Support pony, bearing a M240B, smiled goofily. He was carrying several bullet belts, with a pack of C4 explosives strapped to his back. “I set up claymores all over the point, so now no one can set one hoof on it!”

The Engineer put a hoof to his head. “Dude, we told you this before, you can’t put down more than two claymores at a time! You didn't even capture the flag!”

“But can’t you do that with C4?”

“Yes, but not claymores!” Finally, he bucking gets it for once!

“Oh,” the Support replied. He put a hoof under his chin, and beamed with joy at a new revelation.

“Wait! Can I put down more claymores with the Explosive Specialization?” he yelled.

I swear, this kid is making one trot forward, two trots back, the Engi thought.

“Can we just get going?” the Medic interrupted. “I want to bash some bastard’s skull in now.”

“Yeah,” a new voice called. “I would greatly appreciate it if you guys would help me out!”

Button turned his eyes to face the newcomer. His mouth, unfortunately, couldn’t. It didn’t help that he could now see the U.S. Recon, clad in cloth that wrapped around his face with light frontal packs, trotting towards him. Now, his mouth could fit-

You know what, forget it.

“Hey, buddy!” The Engineer patted his teammate on the back. “What’s the situation?”

“We got Russians putting C4 on dirtbikes and driving them towards tanks,” informed the Recon.

“Ooh, ooh, ooh, that sounds awesome! I wanna try! I wanna try!”

“Shut up, noob! You wouldn’t be able to blow up a target if it was a camping Recon!”

“Dude! What did I just say!”

“I swear…gonna freakin’…tear your heads…defibrillate you in the…”

All the while, Button sat with his mouth the size of a river. This is crazy. These guys shouldn’t be here, or exist for the matter. Maybe I’m just seeing things. That’s it, I’m hallucinating! Button smiled as he had finally solved the mystery. That smile dropped.

Shit, I’m hallucinating.

“So, we gonna head over to the point or what?” said the Engi.

“Didn’t the Recon say that there were C4 dirtbikes?” the Medic said. “We better get some armor first.”

“That’s not going to help. They’re too fast for us.”

“Why not put mines everywhere?” the Recon interrupted.

“Good call."

“Or how about claymores?” the Support interjected.

“Shut up, you don’t have a bipod on your knife yet, noob.”

“Sorry.”

“Anyways, we could just hold the warehouse all day.”

“Yeah, but eveypony’s gonna be trying to take that point. It’ll be a clusterfuck!” the Engi said.

“At least it won’t be as bad as the clusterfuck on Flag B of Operation Metro.”

“How about we kill the dirtbikers with defibrillators and repair tools?”

“I said shut up! Only trolls who have nothing better to do on the battlefield do that! We are men! We do not dishonor our enemies by blowing them up with C4 in a dishonorable manner! ”

“But it’s fun!”

“He’s got a good point,” said the Engineer, who jabbed his buddy in the arm. “Even though I’m pretty sure nopony in real life gets cardiac arrest from a defibrillator.”

“Or gets killed by a blow torch to the face,”

“Hey, it’s possible.”

“But improbable,” the Recon stated.

“Guys! Point. Needs capping. Now!” interjected the Medic. The dirtbikers had just captured the town center, and were pushing towards the next flag.

“Right!” agreed the Engi. “We need to get moving before the Town Center gets captured. Otherwise, this match is over.”

“So, how are we going to get there?” questioned the Recon.

“We could use those VDV Carts over there.”

The Engineer pointed westward. In front of his hoof were two VDV Carts.

“Sweet! Let’s grab ‘em!”

The squad took two steps towards the vehicles.

Just as they were taken by two teammates.

“Well, all right then.”

“How about that tank?” said the Support. Sure enough, a tank was ready to go.

“I’m driving!” said the Engi.

“No, I want to drive! You always drive!”

“You are always squad leader, so you might as well-“

While they argued, a competent, dedicated tank crew stole the armor, and took off.

“Oh, nevermind.”

Two jets remained in the center of the plaza.

“Wait, why do we need jets if we have pegasai on both teams?”

“Just grab them,” said the Engi.

“No, wait. Someone’s been camping them the whole game.”

“Fucking damnit.”

The downtrodden squad sat down while the pilots took off. The jet curled into the air, accelerating at subsonic speeds.

“So, what now?” As the Recon said this, the first jet that took off was bailed. The parachuter attempted to land on a mountainside. The second jet spiraled, performing barrel rolls and somersaults before coming back vertically towards the ground. Before it hit, the jet came up again only to crash into a cliff side.

“I dunno. We’ve only got twenty tickets left,” replied the Medic. Meanwhile, the parachuter landed on top of the mountain. After taking two steps, he was sent flying five thousand meters off the side. The killfeed read, “Bad Luck”.

“I guess we just wait for the match to end, then.”

The squad got comfortable, and waited.

“You know what I hate?”

“What?”

“M16A3 users.”

“Oh my gods, seriously? This again?”

“No, I don’t think the gun is overpowered. I just think it’s overused and a tryhard weapon," said the Engi

“Everybody knows that,” said the Recon.

“Well, everyone calls weapons with high rates of fire “tryhard” weapons. Remember when the M416 was OP?”

“Yeah, what were they thinking?”

“DICE does have some problems with weapon balancing.”

“Who could forget the M26 mass on the G3A3?” said the Medic.

“Oh, but the best one was the USAS with frag rounds,”

Everypony, except Button, who was too busy mesmerized by the squad’s sudden appearance, groaned. They took a breath, then laughed.

“Yeah, let’s hope they do better for Battleplains 4.”

“Mmm.”

There was silence. Not much was going on, since the match was about to end anyway.

“Hey, how many tickets did you say we had again?”

The Medic checked his killfeed watch. “Umm, twenty.”

“Twenty,” the Engi said casually. He leaned his head on his left hoof. He jerked up.

“Shit.”

“What?”

There was a creaking sound, louder than any other noise in the Ponyville square. Button, listening to their conversation, turned his head to follow a shadow that had appeared over the town. It was the one thing he least expected to see when Battleplains characters started showing up.

Towering above him was the falling remains of the Equestrian Border radio tower.

Button, who had been immobile the entire time the squad was present, finally picked himself up. He dashed towards Ponyville's center. From the length of the tower, he calculated that if he reached that area, he would be in the clear.

HIs hooves had reached their greatest velocity. It was a matter of luck now. Debris and cables began to crash around him, cratering the Ponyville market stalls and crushing some hapless fruit barrels. The surface of the tower was closing in on Button's behind. His ass would be first on the menu, then his body, then his head if he didn't reach the center!

Button was inches away from his destination. At last! his mind screamed. Salvation!

He was several feet from the center, however, when he was shot at by a Russian Support. Taking cover from the fire, Button cursed, "Fucking DICE! Who came up with suppression in the first place!" He attempted to peek out from behind the barrel he was using, but the blur effect distorted his vision. He covered his face with his arms.

The firing stopped. Button peeked out from behind his cover. The Russian was making a break from the danger he was just running from. Unfortunately, the Support was crushed by one of the standing platforms on the radio tower.

This new event took Button's mind off the current danger. When he realized his mistake, he looked up.

The cylinder accelerated towards Button’s head. He screamed like a filly.

---

Button opened his eyes. Taking both of his hooves from their cowering positions, he noticed that he was standing in the center of Ponyville.

Several ponies stared at him.

He felt shock, fear, terror, and embarrassment in one sitting. Just a hallucination. Button giggled to himself. He continued towards the Ponyville School House. As he did, however, he had a hard time trying to keep himself from guffawing like a maniac.

Author's Note:

Battlefield and its characters belong to DICE.

Comments

[MasterPony]

3079784 Sweet as!!!!