• Published 30th Nov 2011
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Call of Duty - Equestrian Warfare - ChromeRegios



After a Disastrous mission gone wrong, Jackson was left for dead at a nucler explosion when he foundhimself to be the first human... in a whole new world.

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Chapter 10 - Allies in the Horizon (Part 2)

Dawn is breaking as Jackson and the rescued War Pig tank crew walk along the road following Applejack to Sweet Apple Acres. The tankers aren’t used to ground patrols, but all marines are trained first and foremost as infantry riflemen, so they know how and Jackson trusts them, especially after all the time they spent fighting together in the city of Ahvaz over the previous week.

“Man, would you look at those apple trees!” PFC Santos, the tank gunner, said while pointing at the countless fruit-laden apple trees in the vast field around them. “Are all these yours, ma’am?”

Applejack seems to swell with pride. “Shore are! This here’s our apple farm, Sweet Apple Acres! Me and mah family own these orchards. Don’t mind sayin’ that we grow the most delicious apples in all Equestria!” the country mare proclaims as she goes through the door and lets them inside, though Jackson orders three of the tank crew to remain on guard outside, taking only Santos in with him. Upon entering, it seems like a fairly stereotypical farm house to him, except for the lack of even basic technology.

“Doesn’t look like anyone’s been here. You sure someone was?” Jackson has to ask.

Applejack gives him an annoyed look. “Y’all think I’m not being honest?” she asks with an offended air, then points to the living room fireplace. “Two of the mantle pictures have been switched! And something big was sittin’ on Granny Smith’s rocking chair!” she next motions to a badly squished seat cushion.

“This way, you should see this too,” Big Mac adds as he motions Jackson to enter the kitchen, pointing with a hoof at the floor at several faint bootprints. It appears to the sergeant that someone made an effort to sweep away the signs of their presence, but didn’t fully, perhaps unable to see well enough in the dark to do so the night before.

“There’s more of those in the barn. We’ve also got some hay outta place and a bunch of apples missing from the pantry, so somepony helped themselves to them! But given those weird hoofprints, ah’m pretty dang sure that this ain't the work of a pony!” Applejack brings her hoof down in anger at the invasion of her home and pantry, wondering who could have done this.

“I hope I’m not being rude here but... is a couple apples and some dumb old hay really any big deal?” Santos whispers to Jackson.

Applejack’s ears flick and she shoots the gunner an annoyed look. “Alright, then tell me this, part’ner... if your house got entered by someone you don't know and they went through your things, helping themselves to your food, how would you feel after all that?” the country mare answers immediately, pointing a hoof at him.

Santos at least has the sense to look chagrined. “Yeah, but...” having lived most of his life on the road or in a barracks, he’s still having difficulty comprehending the idea of a fixed home or how attached one might get to it.

“No buts, Private! It’s their home and food here and we’re going to find out who broke in, whether they’re friendlies or rebels. These ponies fixed you up and have given us their warm homes to sleep in instead of some cave in those monster-infested woods, so put up or shut up!” Jackson snaps back to him as he promises Applejack they would find whoever did this to their house, asking them to stay inside while they search the surrounding area.

Going back outside, he meets up with the rest of his improvised five-man squad. “Whoever was here was definitely human. They were here just a few hours ago so they can’t have gotten far. We should look around for any trace of them,” Jackson instructs, and they promptly act.

“Got a couple footprints over here,” Corporal Alvarez, the tank driver, calls out a couple minutes later, and they follow them cautiously back along the road they came, when they abruptly veer off and head back into the orchards. “Stay sharp,” Jackson orders, his squad fanning out and searching the area cautiously until they spot… a rather impressive looking treehouse that puts anything they ever built as kids to shame.

“Jackson, that’s where the tracks go…” Sergeant Higgins, the tank commander whispers.

“I know. Stay out of sight,” is Jackson’s only reply as the group takes immediate cover, watching carefully for any sign of movement. At length, they see a shadow through a window, and the corner of a curtain pulled aside for a moment.

“Definitely someone inside that thing, Sergeant,” Alvarez points out the obvious, leaving Jackson thinking that if they were rebels, they would have simply taken over the house and not tried to cover their tracks so well, even going so far as to sweep the floor and entry path. That they did spoke of someone well-trained, and with some consideration for civilians… which the ultranationalists rarely showed.

With that, Jackson makes a daring decision. “Cover me, but do NOT fire unless they fire first!” He orders as he stands up, right out in the open, and walks towards the treehouse.

“Hey are you crazy?!” John whispers as he watches him go. There’s a sudden commotion inside the treehouse with sharp but low voices and booted figures rapidly shifting position to meet the perceived threat.

Hearing it himself, Jackson shoulders his weapon and raises his hands. “Hey! Hold your fire! I’m Sgt. Paul Jackson of the 1st Force Recon! Identify yourselves!” he orders.

“Jackson?” A stunned, deep voice replies from inside. “Hey Paul, it's me, Griggs! Remember?”

“Griggs!” Jackson puts down his rifle and remembers Staff Sergeant Griggs from when they were teamed up on a search for Al-Asad.

“I thought you died when that nuke went off in Ahvez, man. Good to see you’re still kicking!” Griggs laughs as he climbs down the ladder and gives his comrade an affectionate handclasp and shoulder clap. “Come on out, sirs! These are friendlies!” he calls back.

“Wait, there are others?” Jackson looks inside as three other figures, SAS by their garb and weapons, emerge from the treehouse, looking surprised but very relieved to see American faces.

“Bloody hell, I'm surprised that the dragon didn't eat you alive!” Gaz said as he walks out the cave.

“Dragon…?” Jackson barely blinks as he salutes the British officers, the tank crewmen following suit..

The SAS men all shiver for a moment. “No joke, Sergeant—we got chased by a dragon and attacked by werewolves in those woods!” Soap motions with a thumb over his shoulder. “That’s why we weren’t about to go back in there, but we found this treehouse instead…”

“Who built that thing? My daughter and her friends would love it!” Higgins wonders aloud, the rest of the squad walking around it, inspecting the elaborate from the ground.

The new arrivals all gave them funny looks. “We just said we saw werewolves and a dragon, and yet you’re asking about the Treehouse?” Captain Price asks.

“After escaping a nuke blast and everything else we’ve already seen, nothing surprises us now,” Santos shrugs.

“We believe you, Captain. in fact, we’ve all already met a dragon ourselves here,” Jackson notes, causing Griggs and the SAS officers to gape again. “Sounds like the one you met wasn’t a baby, though. And werewolves could be those ‘diamond dogs’ Vasquez mentioned running into,” he nods to himself. “Take it you haven’t run into the ponies yet?”

“Ponies?” The entire group echoes.

Jackson actually smiles—having already been through it himself, he’s starting to enjoy seeing the reactions of others to learning of them, and so is the tank crew, judging by the smirks on their faces. “Ponies,” he confirms, to the chuckles of his improvised squad.

“Sergeant… forgive my lack of politeness as I’ve had a long day and little sleep, but… What the bloody hell are you on about?” Soap all but yells. “Diamond dogs? Talking ponies? Where on earth are we?” he demands to know, finally losing what little British reserve he has left.

Infuriatingly, Jackson just smiles even more broadly. “Well, sorry to say, sirs, but… we’re not on earth anymore. We’re on another world called Equestria, one populated by talking ponies and a few other races,” even after a day already spent there, the sergeant can scarcely believe he can say those words and not be freaked by it. “It’s crazy, but it’s the truth.”

“Well actually, that would explain all those pony-themed toys, crayon drawings and balloon animal we saw up there…” Griggs allows with nod back to the treehouses. “Not to mention those pictures of ponies inside the house. And I guess after a dragon and those wolf-things, talking horses would be the least of our worries.”

“Trust me, you don’t have to worry about them at all. They’re friendly, unlike the others. Pretty amazing what they can do, too,” Hanks spoke up. “We can even introduce you to a couple right now. And afterwards… we’ll take you into town; find a place for you guys to stay. And we should probably think about organizing a defense. Never mind dragons, there are rebels around.”

“Fine…” was all Powers would say, numbly following the Sergeant back to the farmhouse they entered the night before, where the front door opened.

A county-accented yellow-orange pony mare with a stetson hat along her brother, a larger dark red stallion with a blonde hair and a yoke over his shoulders. “So are y’all the ones who invaded our house last night?” she demanded to know, looking over the newcomers unfavorably, marching right up Gaz to glare at him, completely unintimidated by their larger size or strange gear. “Y’all scared my little sister and nearly gave Granny Smith a heart attack when we came back and realized somepony had broken in!”

“Eeyup…” Big Macintosh confirmed, giving the SAS men a leery look.

Gaz is at a loss, and the others aren’t much better. This ‘pony’ stands barely-chest high, and her large green eyes are disconcerting, never mind her bright coat colors or the fact that she can talk. “A-apologies, ma’am… we’d been walking all night and were in need of shelter… we left when we realized your home was being lived in...” he offers somewhat weakly.

Applejack isn’t impressed. “And why the hay would you think it wasn’t?” she demands to know, poking the SAS Lieutenant hard in the belly with a hoof, making him flinch back a bit. “And did you enjoy those apples you helped yourself to right out of our pantry?”

“AJ, they were hungry and didn’t mean to violate your privacy. They said they were running all night from a dragon and diamond dogs,” Jackson offers.

“A dragon?” Applejack blinks, exchanging a quick but dubious look with Big Mac. “Seriously? It ain’t nowhere near time for the migration!”

No sooner does she speak those words when there’s a loud roar and shadow passing overhead.

“FUCK! It’s the Dragon!” shouts Gaz, raising his rifle and looking for cover as the monstrous red-scaled creature appears ahead, setting its eyes on the farm below. Unlike the last time they saw it, there’s a large hole in the webbing of one of its wings, perhaps from a rebel rocket-propelled grenade.

Applejack and Big Macintosh gape for a moment. “What the hay is that thing doing here?” she asks as the monstrous creature incinerates her barn in a single gout of flame. “Dangnabit, not again!” she slaps her forehead with her hoof.

“I think we got bigger problems than our barn, AJ!” an unusually alarmed Big Macintosh pulls her sister back as the marines and SAS men take any cover they can find, under nearby carts and apple trees. “We need help!”

“God damn, that thing’s huge!!” Jackson looks up high as the dragon in the sky dives towards them. Everyone starts shooting at the beast as it lays down a fresh line of fire across the field towards them, only to abruptly abort its run, perhaps in response to the sharp stings it was feeling from dozens of assault rifle bullets, swooping up and away, then circling above like it was considering its next move.

“Fuck… if that thing heads for town we’re all screwed!” John said as he reloads.

“Don’t suppose any of you have a Stinger missile?” Captain Price suggests, still hoping against hope that he’s going to wake up and it will all be a bad dream, thinking he’d rather face the nuke base than a dragon. Better the devil you know… “It’s the only thing that might kill this bloody bastard!”

“No stingers, but…” Jackson suddenly looks at the tank crew, all of them having the same idea at once. “War Pig!” They shout together.

Griggs and the SAS group look at him like he’s crazy again. “War Pig? They have pigs that fight wars here?” Gaz asks sarcastically, only to realize… after everything else he’s seen, they just might.

“War Pig is a tank! It crossed over with us somehow! It’s back in town, and if we can get to it fast enough...” the rest doesn’t need to be said.

“It’ll take five minutes to get there even if we run sir! And without cover, we’re dead if we try!” Higgins warns from under an apple tree with Santos, and Jackson realizes he’s right—they’d have no chance out in the open.

“Wait!” Applejack calls out. “Back in town? You mean that big metal thing at town hall?” she shouts to be heard over the roar of the dragon and human weapons. Any other time she’d be amazed and alarmed by the latter, but there are other things to worry about right then.

“Yes!” Jackson confirms. “It’s called a tank—a large mobile weapon! It might be able to defend against the dragon, but if we can’t get to it…”

“Then times-a-wastin’, Big Mac!” Applejack fearlessly braves another gout of fire to dash to a nearby shed, and Big Mac is right behind her as they enter and then reappear just a few seconds later harnessed to a large wagon, the pair bringing it before the marines. “Pile in! Big Mac and I’ll get y’all there lickety-split!” she promises as the dragon shoots back up out of effective rifle range, his breath menacingly smoking as it prepares to attack again.

Price is dubious, but recognizes that their options are few—they can’t outrun the flying beast, and sooner or later their ammo will run dry or the dragon’s breath will find them. “It’s our only chance! Everyone get in, that’s an order!” the SAS captain says, making a sprint for the cart himself.

Once they’re all in, Applejack pinwheels her hooves and orders the humans to hold on tight as the dragon is now coming up fast from behind. He breaths fire but the wagon surges forward out just before the flames reach them, though close enough that the marines and SAS men still feel like they just looked into the face of a blast furnace. The pony pair putting on speed and astonishingly having no problem pulling the large load, the wagon begins moving at a breakneck pace along the rough road, the marines hanging on for dear life until they reach the smoother main road that adjoins the farm. The dragon follows but incredibly is only barely able to keep pace, the special forces soldiers and marines firing at it out the back, keeping it at bay.

Despite their small size, the pair are blazingly fast, covering the distance between their farm and Town Hall in less than two minutes. When they arrive, they find that town is already in consternation, having seen the pursuing dragon, ponies darting to and fro as the large cart skids to a halt by the tank, its turret and 120mm smoothbore main gun still skewed left. “Get that tank up!” Captain Price orders needlessly as the tank crew scrambles to ready the big beast, climbing in hatches as the dragon begins orbiting overhead, screeching angrily, the blasted hole in his wing and wound in his belly now very apparent.

“What the hell is it doing?!” Griggs shouts, as he reloads, praying the ammunition holds out until War Pig is online.

“Just cover them!” Soap shouts back as he fires a 40mm grenade from his M4A1’s lower launcher that finds its mark, exploding against the dragon’s belly, causing it give a high-pitched scream. He hopes for a moment that they’ve crippled it, but when the smoke clears, all they see is a few singed and damaged scales, a slight trickle of blood apparent between them…

He realizes with a sinking heart that for all the hits it’s taken, all they’ve really done is made it mad. Where’s a black arrow when we need one???

At that moment a new set of voices is heard. “Sergeant? What’s going on?” a marine lieutenant calls out as he answers his own question by looking upwards and gaping, more friendlies in tow.

“Dragon, L-T!” Jackson shouts back, his statement punctuated by a sudden fresh gout of flame that takes out a courtyard tree and sends ponies scrambling and screaming in fear.

All except one. “Whoa! Is that a dragon?” a winged blue pony calls out, impossibly flying right up to Jackson, hovering off his left shoulder.

“Yeah! Take cover, Rainbow!” he orders. “We’re gonna try and take it out with the tank, but we need some time to get it ready!”

Rainbow gives him an incredulous look. “Take cover? Fat chance!” she shouts, then shoots upward on a rainbow trail to challenge the beast.

“Damnit Rainbow! Hold your fire!” Vasquez shouts, as yet unaware he’s outranked by the SAS men, but they obey him anyway, stopping to watch as the blue pegasus buzzes the large beast, running rings around it and grabbing its attention. It breathes fire repeatedly but can’t turn fast enough to catch the agile pony flyer, who occasionally insults it further with a taunts and sharp kicks to its belly and chin, inviting it to follow her… which it does, increasingly incensed.

She’s either really brave or really STUPID! Vasquez still hadn’t decided as suddenly War Pig rumbled to life, scaring the already-frightened ponies further.

To his surprise, Foley spoke up from behind him. “Everyone, Calm down!” the sergeant stood up and said, getting all present to turn their attention on him.

“They prefer if you say Everypony!” Hanks whispers to Foley.

Be blinked. “Right~ Okay, everypony listen up! Stay calm and stay inside your houses! We will do our best to protect you from that dragon!” he says as the tank’s turret begins to turn, the crew hurriedly testing its systems.

“Engine working, wheels turning!” Corporal Alvarez says from the driver’s seat, alternating forward and reverse for both tracks, causing the tank to pivot in place.

“Gun traversing, coax ready!” the gunner, PFC Cooley, announces.

“HEAT round up!” PFC Santos calls, slamming home a high-explosive antitank round into the gun breach.

“Then let’s get some!” Sergeant Higgins calls out at the tank begins moving out into the courtyard, turret turning and main gun rising to target the dragon...