• 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 15 - The Storm, Part 2

Despite their best efforts, the mixed allied infantry force is being pushed back deeper into Town Hall, forced to take refuge in the rear area offices and hallways. Worse, they’re taking casualties, with six guardsponies down and half the former tank crew wounded and out of the fight. Though trained as marine riflemen, the latter are simply not used to infantry combat, preferring to fight from inside an Abrams tank.

Pony medics and Fluttershy are attending a growing number of wounded, which include a still-unconscious Twilight Sparkle and Shining Armor, but neither the American or British soldiers are under any illusions about their chances for survival if they do not win the battle. The rebels typically take no prisoners except for propaganda or intelligence purposes, and anyone used for such things can expect torture and death once their usefulness is at an end.

Still, they have given far worse than they’d gotten, with the grounds in front of them littered with the bodies of sixteen rebels and perhaps double that number of Diamond Dogs. The latter seem to have withdrawn though, perhaps licking their wounds, and the Russian Rebels aren’t really pushing any longer either, apparently content to keep them pinned within their shrinking perimeter.

“I don’t get it!” Sergeant Gillespie says as he pops off a few more rounds and then reloads his rifle. They’re starting to slow their rate of fire as they’ve already run through half their ammunition, praying for relief that seems unlikely to arrive. “Why aren’t they pushing? Or hell, why are they trying to take us out with infantry? With that T-90 they’ve got enough firepower to level the building and bury us inside!”

“Don’t you see, Leftenant?” MacTavish speaks up over a radio, now wielding a borrowed M1014 combat shotgun as he covers a corridor, ready to send any raiders who round the blind corner he’s guarding to hell. “They want Town Hall intact! Else they wouldn’t be trying to storm it; they’d be trying to bring it down on top of us!”

“He’s right. And I don’t like this…” Price agrees from the British side of the room, where his fellow SAS men are shielding the makeshift infirmary. “If they’re not pushing, they’re planning something!”

“Yeah, I know…” Vasquez says, then fumbles for the command crystal given him by Spitfire. A large, red and flawless ruby, he can’t help but wonder how much money it would be worth on earth. “Captain! We’re pinned down in the hallways and interior offices and can’t see outside! Can you tell if they’re massing for another assault?”

To his relief, the pegasus captain responds after a short pause. “No indication that I can see, Lieutenant! What I can report is they’ve taken about two-thirds of the town. Worse, the guardspony platoon is nearly gone, and five Wonderbolts are down!” she informs him, a note of bitterness in her voice. “We’re also running out of crystals! We and the Guardsponies have taken out over half of their vehicles and maybe a quarter of their infantry, but--” her words are interrupted by a sudden Boom! Audible both through the crystal and a second later from through the walls, which shook hard, cracks starting to appear in the ceiling “--but their ‘tank’ is still active! It’s a lot tougher than the others! The unicorns guardsponies have scored some hits on it with explosive arrows, but whenever they or a magma bomb starts to burn through, there’s this… weird counter-explosion that disperses the force of the blast!”

“Reactive armor’s a bitch,” Santos grouses, the former Abrams loader now reduced to grunt work and covering for his wounded crewmates. “Tell ‘em to focus a sequence of shots on a single point, targeting the top or rear armor! Those reactive plates only work once in a given spot! Repeated hits’ll get through!”

“Captain…”

“I heard! We’ll do our best!” she replies, and immediately starts barking out new orders.

“Captain, I’m coming out to help you!” Rainbow Dash shouts at the crystal.

“No, Rainbow Dash~!” Spitfire starts to order, but the determined young pegasus shakes her head hard.

“Sorry, Captain, I can’t stay cooped up in here! Even without blades or armor, I can fight! We need reinforcements, so I’m gonna rally the Ponyville weather patrol!” she announces. “A little lightning oughtta shake things up!”

“Wait, Rainbow Dash!” Foley calls to her, fumbling at his belt.

“Dude, don’t try to stop me!” she warns, but the Ranger Sergeant just shakes his head.

“I’m not. But here. Take this,” he pulls a combat knife from its sheath, offering it to her hilt first. “It’s not much, but it might help.”

Surprised, she accepts it the blade, holding it by the hilt in her mouth. “Thanks, dude,” she says through gritted teeth. “You guys are okay,” she tells them, and they’ve been around her long enough to know it’s high compliment coming from the brashy mare.

A nod of respect is exchanged before she takes off in a rainbow streak into the atrium, blowing past the startled rebels and making it out the front door, slashing the throat of one as she passes and clocking a diamond dog with her hoof, sending him flying fifteen feet.

“That’s our girl!”

“Crazy filly!” Dunn snarls as he fires off a few more rounds to give her cover, diving for cover himself before return fire can find him. “Just what the fuck does she think she can do?”

“Stuff it, Dunn!” Gillespie speaks up before Vasquez can, reminding himself again that though the typical reaction to the Corporal is to want to slug him, he’s proven himself in battle many times over. “That mare took on a goddamned dragon by herself! So I’d say she’s got more guts than you!”

“Fuck you!” he snarls as he screws a fresh RPG round into its launcher, but is otherwise all business as he hefts. “And we’re just about fucked anyway! I only got one AP round left, L-T!”

“Save it for if they try and rush us with BMPs again!” Vasquez orders, his mind racing, still wondering what the enemy is up to. “Sergeant, you have any explosive arrows left?” he asks the unicorn pony to his right.

“Just two!” he says, keeping a longbow at the ready, the quiver on his back nearly empty, only six of the twelve-pony contingent who originally joined the planning meeting still unwounded and fighting. “And the earth ponies are nearly out of spears and crossbow bolts! After that, we’re reduced to throwing stones!”

“We ain’t much better, L-T! We’re running through our ammo too fast!” Foley notes. “Two more mags and I’m gonna be down to my pistol!”

Vasquez is suddenly regretting ordering their found ammunition and other supplies stored at the farm and Twilight’s treehouse basement, now impossibly out of reach. “Conserve your ammo! We just have to hold out until Griggs and AJ…” he trails off as the room begins to shake and a fresh rumble is heard from beneath the ground.

The floor in the hallway behind them caves in an instant before they realize what’s happening and what the new Rebel plan is. “Diamond Dogs!” they all shout just as a series of grenades fly out of the hole, forcing them to dive for cover as they explode, taking two more guardsponies and Santos with them. Worse, they’re now cut off from the infirmary and the SAS men covering what was their rear. The Russians are now hitting them from two directions, charging them from the front and acting the part of the hammer while the Diamond Dogs firing from their tunnels act as an anvil, trying to crush the Americans and Guardsponies between them.

For the second time, Vasquez is certain they’re dead as they’re once again caught by surprise, knowing it’s only a matter of time before they’re ground down to nothing and Ponyville falls with them…

* * * * *

Now trapped behind the Diamond Dogs and cut off from their allies, the three SAS men also realize they’re in dire straits as a dozen Diamond Dogs pile out of the hole. Half pin his team down, and the other half try to storm the infirmary where Shining Armor, Twilight, Big Macintosh, two tank crewmen and half a dozen guardsponies lie wounded. After hearing Fluttershy’s startled cry and Rarity’s shriek, MacTavish is certain he’s about to hear a series of sharp rifle cracks that will announce their execution… but nothing happens. At least, nothing they can hear over the AK-47 fire from the six Diamond Dogs fronting them.

“What’s going on? Are they taking prisoners?” Price isn’t sure he believes that given Rebel propensities. But maybe Diamond Dogs are different?

“Doesn’t matter, we’ve got to break through!” Gaz tosses his final grenade, but the Dogs dive for cover into their tunnel and are unharmed. And worst of all, at that moment, there are a sudden series of shots from the infirmary; six at once that cause the three SAS men to slump.

“That’s it, then…” Soap says solemnly. “They’re dead. And we’re dead too, so what say we charge that tunnel and take out as many of the wankers as we can?”

“Suits me fine, sir,” Gaz replies grimly, snapping home his final magazine and affixing his combat knife to the end of his rifle barrel as a bayonet. “We’ve had a good run. Guess it’s time we go out in a blaze of bloody glory!” he says, standing just around the corner of the corridor the Diamond Dog hole is in, hearing the barks and growls as they prepare to reemerge.

Price nods and loads his final 40mm grenade. “On three, then. One… two… three!” they round the corner but are stopped in their tracks by a series of familiar shouts and the incredible sight of Pinkie Pie and Rarity charging out the infirmary and down the hallway towards them, alive and unharmed, screaming at them to get down. The former physically knocks Soap to the ground while Rarity yanks Price and Gaz back with her magic.

“What are you…” a dumbfounded Price starts to ask, only to be cut off.

“Don’t look!” Pinkie Pie and Rarity shout, trying to hold them down and point their heads away, then covering their eyes themselves. “Don’t look at her!”

“Look at who…?” Gaz starts to ask only to get his answer when Fluttershy floats out the infirmary door, her eyes unnaturally wide and intense, a mere glimpse of them causing his guts to turn over and focus to falter as she flies over to the freshly dug hole and stares down into it.

“All of you, come out!” Fluttershy orders in an unusually sharp tone. “You six come out here this instant!” she further directs, and to the astonishment of the SAS men, they do.

Price risks a look as Fluttershy is facing away and he can’t see her eyes. He can see those of the dogs, however, their normally large pupils reduced to pinpoints and a string of drool falling from their lips as they sway back and forth lightly, acting drugged.

“Just look at the mess you’ve made! Just look at all the ponies and people you’ve hurt! And just what were you planning to do here…?” Fluttershy asks them ominously, never breaking eye contact or leaving her hover.

The apparent leader answers for them. “Take prisoners… kill the humans and wounded… capture the ponies…” he states easily in a very dull and matter-of-fact tone.

“That is not nice!” Fluttershy says like she’s speaking down to a pet puppy who just made a mess. “What would your mothers think? Well, I know what I think! That you’ve been a bad, bad, dog! And do you know what bad, bad dogs have to do…?” It seems impossible to Price, the dog’s pupils narrow even more as Fluttershy’s stare gets even more intense.

“Yes…” he says as he raises a pistol to his head with exaggerated slowness. “I’m a very bad dog. And bad dogs have to…” he doesn’t finish before he pulls the trigger, blowing his own brains out.

“She bloody hypnotized them!” Soap realizes in disbelief as Fluttershy turns her attention on the remaining five dogs, ordering them in baby talk to go back through their tunnel to attack their comrades. They do so, shortly reappearing through a new hole in the middle of the atrium where they appear and gun down another ten rebels and fellow dogs before they themselves die in a hail of grenades and rifle fire.

“It’s her Stare…” Pinkie Pie explains. “She hardly ever uses it but it bends animals and other ponies to her will! Guess it works on Diamond Dogs, too…”

“And us…” Gaz shivers. “Just caught it for an instant but it felt like my mind was turning to mush!”

At that moment, there’s a commotion coming down the hallway they’ve been guarding. The rebels have previously tried nothing but a minor few probes in that direction, but this time they hear heavy footfalls of a dozen pairs of surplus combat boots along with the distinctive scrapple sound diamond dog claws make against hard surfaces, perhaps a fresh attack intended to take advantage of the distraction the Diamond Dog tunnel has caused. They whirl to meet the new threat, leveling their rifles, but a shouted order stops them cold.

“Do not shoot!” A Russian voice orders from around the corner. “Or your friends die!” its owner announces as he comes into two view with two ponies, one old and one young, both with guns held to their heads

“Mayor Mare!” Pinkie Pie exclaims.

“Sweetie Belle!” Rarity shrieks, seeing her sobbing sister held roughly with a dated Russian 9mm Makarov pistol held to her head. “How dare you! Release my sister at once!” she demands imperiously, lowering her head and igniting her horn.

The Russians ignore her, keeping a gun leveled at the mayor and a knife at the throat of the crying foal. “Lower your weapons” the leader addresses the British soldiers in accented English, improvised officer insignia on his uniform. “Surrender now, or they both die!”

“You meanie!” Pinkie Pie shouts, but starts to slowly back away towards the now-empty tunnel.

Soap gives the Russian his most steely glare. “You’ll kill her anyway,” he accuses, lapsing more deeply into his Scottish brogue. “After you kill us!”

“No. Just you, Scotsman!” he smiles unpleasantly, baring his teeth. “The ponies we want alive. But you and your yankee friends can go to hell. The only good westerner is a dead one!”

“We could say the same about rebel scum like you!” Gaz retorts, wondering if Fluttershy can use her stare to take out the whole corridor, but she’s now collapsed behind them beside the now-empty tunnel, crying softly to herself at her horrific act, in no shape to do it again. “Or do you enjoy gunning down helpless ponies?”

“Don’t worry about me!” Mayor Mare proclaims in a shaky voice. “Fight them! They’re monsters and I’d rather die than live under them!”

“As you wish,” the Russian replies with a sneer, and nods to his side. His comrade shoots her once in the head with his AK, causing old earth pony mare to drop to the ground dead. Pinkie’s jaw drops open while the only reactions of the SAS men are tightened lips. “She was old anyway. She wouldn’t have been much good for manual labor. But this young one can give us years of service. Must I kill her too…?” he asks almost mournfully, pressing the pistol closer against her temple.

“Rarity! Help me!” The terrified filly calls out, and hearing her tearful plea, the SAS men know they’re beaten.

“Fine. You win…” Price grates each word out, starting to lower his rifle and signaling his subordinates to do the same. “As long as you promise to spare her and the rest of the ponies, we’ll~”

He doesn’t finish the sentence before there’s sudden movement at the Russian’s side. In a single fluid motion, a pink hoof strikes him in the head and swipes Sweetie Bell from his slackened grip, disappearing with her back into the janitor closet from which she sprang, slamming the door behind them. Shocked, the Russians open fire on the closet and pepper it with holes while the British soldiers take advantage of the sudden distraction to fire back. “Kill as many of the bastards as you can!” Price orders as he fires his final 40mm grenade into the end of the corridor, taking out another several rebels from the screams. A last act of defiance perhaps, given they’re still down to their final mags and likely to die from overwhelming numbers, but a sacrifice he and fellow soldiers are only too willing to make.

While the Russians and their allies reorganize for a climactic attack, the SAS men are shocked to see Pinkie Pie somehow reappear from the empty Diamond Dog tunnel behind them, alive and unharmed, Sweetie Bell safe as well. While a sobbing Rarity hugs her sister tightly, Pinkie Pie starts to shake, walking forward, her gaze fixed down the hallway where the Russians await.

“Pinkie? What are you…?” Price starts to ask, having no idea how she just accomplished what she did.

But Pinkie Pie isn’t listening, her shaking increasing and a dangerous gleam growing in her eyes. “They ruined my party… destroyed my town… hurt my friends… and killed the mayor? They will pay for this!” As the human soldiers watch, Pinkie’s hair falls flat out of its usual floofy state as the suddenly vicious-looking mare stalks over to Price and Gaz, swiping their rifles right out of their hands.

“They… will… pay!” she screams as she begins marching down the hallway on her two hind legs just as the rebels attack, dual-wielding her AKs. To the shock of all, she starts gunning down the Rebels and Diamond Dogs that line the corridor, somehow dodging every bullet that comes towards her. Unable to do anything but watch, the SAS men have no idea how she’s able to pull the trigger, but every round she fires finds its mark, directly impacting heads and chests, causing them to literally break from such force, killing them one by one. Even Soap is left in awe as he watches Pinkie take them on like the Terminator from the old movie, seemingly invincible, wiping out two dozen enemy soldiers one by one.

Her rifles run out of ammo as she reaches the end of the hallway and more Russians and Diamond Dogs charge her. Price again thinks it is the end for her, but Pinkie goes into melee mode, throwing one rifle at the lead Russian and staggering him with it before taking his knife and slashing him in the throat with it, grabbing a grenade from his chest with her other hoof. She next tosses his dying form bodily into a group of his own comrades, bowling them over before throwing the knife, hitting the rebel who’d killed Mayor Mare in the eye, causing him to shriek. “You… will… die!” she announces to them all as she yanks the grenade pin with her teeth and tosses it into a rebel ammo crate they’d brought to support their attack, causing it to explode and bringing half the corridor down, blocking the hallway and trapping half the remaining rebels inside. They try to escape but have nowhere to go as she then takes them out with single shots and broken necks, sending the ones behind the collapsed corridor fleeing for their lives.

“Bloody hell…” The British men are both impressed and terrified of how the sweet and happy-go-lucky party pony can turn into a vicious killer in a blink of an eye, leaving Soap wondering how long she’s been suppressing this side of herself, shooting a few Russians who flee in their direction.

“Guess that’s it, then,” Price says in price understatement, able to only watch as, her mission complete, Pinkie Pie’s hair reverts to normal and she returns to them like nothing has happened, trotting right past them to lend comfort to Fluttershy, gently walking her back inside the infirmary. “Well, then. Looks like the rear is secure. So what say we go see what fun our American friends are having?” He picks up a discarded Diamond Dog AK-47 as he speaks.

“Coming, Captain,” Gaz acknowledges in a dull tone, picking up a discarded Russian rifle of his own and several magazines before dropping a Russian grenade down the Diamond Dog hole, sealing it behind them and trusting now that Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy can handle anything that might threaten them.

* * * * *

The group quickly join their yankee comrades, finding them holding their positions nicely, helped by the enemy casualties the turncoat Diamond Dogs inflicted. They barely have a chance to explain what’s happened and plan their next moves before a new sound from outside makes itself known. It is the not the heavy thumps of a Soviet-era 30mm chain gun mounted on a BMP or BTR, but the more rapid cracks of an American-made .50 caliber machine gun.

“That’s the humvee!” Jackson immediately recognizes. “Griggs and AJ got through!”

Vasquez blinked. “You’re right!” he realizes, noting their presence was a surprise from the Russian shouts outside and sudden shift of fire as they’re forced to meet the new threat.

“This could be our chance, Leftenant! If we can clear the atrium and take the entryway, we can get the javelin set up and take out that bloody tank!” Price suggests.

“Still easier said than done, L-T!” Foley notes. “We’ve hurt ‘em alright, but even with the Guardsponies Griggs is hopefully bringing we’re still outnumbered better than two to one!” he points out, a fresh eruption of fire driving his point home and forcing them to take cover.

“Enough!” Rarity screams from behind them at the top of her lungs. “I will be a bystander to this no more!” she announces, and then stands up and strides out into the middle of the atrium despite the danger.

“Rarity! Get back!” Vasquez frantically calls to her, but the elegant unicorn mare ignores him, instead, stalking out to the center of the cavernous room, facing down six dumbfounded rebels, who level their guns at her and order her to surrender; they’ve even got diamond dog-made restraints the guardsponies recognize as meant to block magic when worn as a collar.

She ignores their orders and threats, her horn glow growing with her anger as she faces them from thirty feet away. “Destroy my decorations? Threaten my sister? Wound my friend? Kill my mayor? You… horrid… brutes!” She all but snarls as her magic reaches out and pulls the pins on all their grenades, causing the human rebels to look down at their chests in horror and then drop their rifles and frantically claw at them with panicked screams of their own. A couple even imagine to get the belts off but not before far enough away before they explode in their faces, reducing their bodies to pulp at close range.

“Hmph! Serves you right!” Rarity says coldly as she dabs at her own wounds with a materialized handkerchief. She took a few grenade fragments but was protected from the worst of their effects by her magic, which she then turns to pluck a few intact combat blades from mangled corpses.

“Holy…” Dunn began.

“Hayseeds…” the guardspony sergeant finishes, staring at her, agape. The humans and guardsponies barely have time to register what she’s done before a group of eight Diamond Dogs appear next, rounding the corner at a run, their toe claws making audible screeching sounds as they skid to a stop in front of the unicorn mare.

“Ah, good!” Far from frightened, Rarity looks almost pleased, a dangerous gleam in her eyes. “I’m so glad you’re here, you hideous hooligans! You’re just in time to meet your demise,” she informs them, not a hint of humor or bravado in her voice, just cold, hard steel that sends a chill down Vasquez’ spine.

A couple of the Diamond Dogs laugh like they recognize her. “What, are you going to kill us with your insufferable whining, little pony?” He hefts his gifted rifle, signaling the others to do the same. “With our new friends, we’re taking over this town, and this time, you will be pulling our carts!”

Far from being intimidated, Rarity simply turns up her nose. “I think not!” She then floats up the purloined combat knifes she took from the dead rebels, examining them closely and frowning. “Such unfashionable weapons! So graceless and inelegant! I cannot sully my hooves or magic with these!” Her horn flares as she takes time to turn the blade hilts purple to match her mane color, her magic further adding an elegant etching to the blades themselves that ends in a stylized cursive R. “Ah. Much better.” She holds them up to a shaft of light, coming through a shell hole in the exterior wall, making the now-pristine blades glitter in the smoke and dust.

“Uh… is she really gonna bring a knife to a gunfight, L-T?” Jackson asks nervously, unable to shoot the exposed Diamond Dogs for fear of hitting her or getting her caught in the crossfire that will erupt.

For their part, the dogs just laugh as they watch the display. “You have knives? We have guns!” the leader reminds Rarity, hefting his AK-47. “We want you for our mines, but we will shoot you if you try anything!”

Rarity looks completely unconcerned, taking a few experimental slices in the air with her blades, wielding four at once with her magic. “Not with those, you won’t!” she announces as there’s a sudden serious of metallic clicks as the rifle magazines fall free, hitting the floor with a clatter and the Diamond Dog AK-47s fall apart in their paws, breaking into useless pieces.

“Did… she just field strip six rifles at once with her magic?” Gillespie asks in awe while the reaction of the Diamond Dogs is one of shock and terror. “Right as they were holding them?”

“I showed her and Twilight how to service them the other day in case they needed to use them. Guess she really was paying attention!” Vasquez can only shake his head as the Dogs drop their now-useless rifles and began to back away nervously, suddenly finding themselves at the unicorn mare’s mercy.

“No! Wait! All joke! We really weren’t going to shoot you! All joke, yes?” The leader holds up his paws and gives a placating grin.

Rarity is unimpressed, lowering her head and suddenly looking very much a predator, an unpleasant smile making itself known. “A joke, is it? Well, I for one am not laughing! Now then…” her grin turns devilish as she suddenly begins a slow walk forward, whirling the blades around her with increasing speed. “Allow me to show you vulgar ruffians how a lady kills!” She announces and then proceeds to slice up the group with her blades, whipping her weapons around like so many sewing implements, sending blood flying everywhere as she ignores their shrieks and pleas for mercy, not stopping until every last one is dead.

There is silence once the deed is complete and Rarity simply stands in the midst of her work, looking down in great satisfaction. “Hmph!” She says at some length as she cleans the blood from her knives with her magic, turning their sheaths from camo green to white with blue trim before resheathing them, making two of the four disappear with a flare of her magic. “It is no less than they deserved!”

“Holy… she carved them up like Thanksgiving turkeys!” Foley says in a hushed tone.

“Remind me never to piss her off, L-T…” Jackson’s voice is likewise very quiet.

“I ain’t ever gonna say ponies are pussies again…” is all Dunn can say.

“Ever thought of joining the Royal Guard, ma’am?” The guardspony sergeant asks as she returns to them at a strong but dignified trot, leaving the now-empty atrium clear of enemy soldiers. “We could use a few good mares.”

“Only if I may redesign the uniforms!” Rarity replies, reassembling the rifles as she walks and gathering up the discarded magazines. “Now then, as we’ve cleared Town Hall, what say we clear the entire town of these vandals and send every last one of them to Tartarus?” she slams full magazines home into two levitated rifles, whirling her borrowed blades in the air for emphasis.

“Uh… yes, ma’am…” Vasquez quickly agrees, getting out his command crystal to get in touch with Spitfire again, thinking for the first time that with the help of their pony friends, they might actually be able to win this fight.