Soldier pony:Siege of Stalliongrad

by DominicTheWise

Chapter 2: Always a cost

Chapter 2:Always a cost

The lonely, desolate street with its rubble and smoke was all but silent except for the pony lying against an overturned apple cart; it had once been a beautiful red like the apples it use to hold, now blackened and dead like much of Stalliongrad. His slight breathing, like a sharp crack of a rifle in this dead place, moved his torn and stolen uniform. The always present snow had increased, blinding all further. The lowering temperature would force any regular pony inside but not Crack, not any Sun Army soldier, and definitely not the tank and its infantry. His throat a parched desert and his nerves strung like guitar strings, He realized he was scared. Crack Shot had never been much of a worry wart, being an enthusiastic gambler when the odds were in his favor; however, he normally wasn’t a risk taker, especially one as the circumstances at the moment required. The only other risky thing he had ever done before the war was a bet on a Pegasus derby one summer long ago when he had wagered on the least favored to win. The Pegasus had done well though finishing fifth out of eighteen and earning Crack Shot a few pretty bits for his gamble.

But this was like betting on the Pegasus with a broken wing. This was stupid. But his part in the plan was essential and a simple plan at that, but when something could go wrong it would.

He understood that he was most likely going to die, that this might be the end of his brief adventure in life. The thought of dying in battle for Stalliongrad and the glorious Princess Celestia filled him with a bittersweet joy. Crack shot was determined to take a few of these bastards with him before his story came to an end.

“In death I might find peace,” Crack shot pondered, “maybe even meet up with Dead Center and Arkady. Hit all the bars. I hope they have bars with unlimited flowing taps in paradise,” he mused darkly. “See all my lost relatives… cousin, uncle, aunt, grandparents,” he looked up to the dreary clouds that hung above.’“….Maybe even mother.” A tear forced it way into the world through his tired eye. One of his happier memories rushing back to him after so much killing and hate, to the one time he had seen had seen the evil that had ravaged Equestria.

“…mother…”

14 years ago

Two ponies, one large and the other small, trotted down the nearly deserted streets. Beautiful floral decorations hung from many of the store fronts; lilies, roses,tulips, and many more arranged in displays and vases. The beautiful clear sky allowed the sun to warm all under its gaze. All around a wonderful day. The two ponies continued by a green park. The smaller stopped and looked towards the playground where a few young ponies screamed and ran after one another. The larger pony stopped as well.

“Hurry up Shot or were going to miss the parade, ” the larger pony, a light chestnut mare said, looking back to the young colt, the slight wind pushing at her crimson mane.

“But mom those ponies look like they're having fun,” Crack Shot,the smaller, whined. He pointed with a tiny booted hoof to a group of other young ponies playing in a nearby park; a small playground was the center of their focus. With one look at his mother’s face he knew the answer. He hung his head in defeat and continued walking.

“Do you remember why they are having this parade Shot?” His mother asked as they continued their walk to the main gates of the inner city, the city being split up into three circles: The inner city being the place of government, the middle city was the market and general business, and the outer city which was mainly a residential zone but had a couple businesses and warehouses. Crack shot had never see the inner city where both his parents worked. They were in the middle city. The usually busy merchants sector was surprisingly quite and empty, the business owners and merchants closing early to enjoy the parade.

“Ah……hmm...” Crack shot racked his small head for the answer. “Free muffins day?” he asked stumped. His mother’s laughter filled his ears. Looking up in surprise, he found she had fallen over in laughter.

“Hey stop being a mean mom, I tried my best!” Crack Shot cried out to his incapacitated mother, who had just gotten herself under control though a few quiet giggles still escaped her mouth. She readjusted her hat and scarf before motioning for him to continue to follow her down the relatively unpopulated sidewalk, though there was a unicorn couple who had just continued walking, smiles on their faces.

“I’m sorry son, but that was hilarious,” she stated, another giggle escaping her mouth. “But back to the point,” her face grew serious, but she still wore a slight smile. “The reason we are having a parade is because the Princesses are visiting the Mayor and are staying in the city for a while, so we are welcoming them with a wonderful parade.” In the distance a wondrous cacophony of trumpets and drums started up. “Hurry now or we’ll miss it,” his mother urged, already speeding up her pace. Crack Shot followed eagerly.
>>>

Mane street was bursting with ponies, a sea of color and motion, all lined up against the sides of the street while leaving a corridor for the parade. They quickly made their way to a slowly closing gap. There were a couple of ponies in front of them so Crack Shot climbed on his mothers back to get a view at the passing attractions. He had gotten up just in time to see a squad of Royal Guard march sternly past, their golden armor clean and pristine, and their white coats spotless. Electric blue manes and tales swayed with each step. Swords hung in their sheaths of the sides of each, easily in reach if needed. Each and everyone one of them wore a serious expression and stared straight ahead, as if they were statues from the neck up. He had even heard from a pony in is class that they were golems, ponies made from clay and earth. Seeing them now he might just agree. Then a gleaming open high-backed carriage on which a plush cushion sat rolled into view of Crack Shot. Lying upon said fancy cushion was Her Royal Highness, Regent of the Sun Princess Celestia. Her glorious white coat shone and her wavering mane sparkled. Although she was dressed for battle in her shinning golden armor - a brilliant breast plate, hoof guards, and helmet- her expression was relaxed as if everything was right in the world, all of the soldiers and armor was just ceremony. The cheering intensified as she passed.

Then it quieted notably, a wave of silence rolling from down the street accompanied by quiet whispers. Another squad, this one of four Pegasus and four earth ponies, was making its way up the street. But they did not gleam like the Royal Guard, in fact light seemed to shrivel up and die around them; as if their armor absorbed it. “Luna’s Honor Guard…”, “…Mercenaries...””…after the attempt...”, “…loyal only to her…” all this and more was heard by Crack Shot as he watched them walk by. They all wore intricate mystic blue armor similar in structure to the Royal Guard but more artful, personal trophies and trappings adoring there armor. Under that armor was a dull grey coat and close cropped black manes and tails, all of them equipped with rifles. Their expressions matched those of the Royal Guard in seriousness and yet in their eyes madness lurked, searching for something and anything to give them the excuse to maim and injure with their not-so-ceremonial rifles. Following behind was a silvery blue chariot pulled by more of the strange soldiers. The chariot itself looked fierce with small steel spikes covering the front and the intricate swirling designs that were painted on the chassis. It could not, however, compare to its only occupant. Her Serene Highness, Conveyor of the Night, Mistress of the Stars, Princess Luna. Her midnight blue coat was well groomed, but like her guards light seemed to be absorbed around it. Her armor mirrored her sisters except for color, hers being a midnight blue, and helmet which was not so open like her sisters. Her mane, which seemed to contain a window into a starry night sky, flowed behind her with a mind of its own. She held an emotionless face and was very stiff in posture, a coiled snake ready to strike. She was the exact opposite of her sister.

The parade continued with acrobats, a marching band, and many other wondrous performances. Eventually they all came to an end and the crowd began to disperse and talk of home or gathering places replaced that of trumpets and sounds of admiration. Crack Shot climbed off his mothers back, expecting to be heading home as well, looked at his mother for directions to find she was deep in thought, her brow furrowed. Suddenly shaking her head violently she seemed to snap out of it as she turned and smiled at Crack Shot.

“Let’s head home, dear,” the smile she gave him didn’t hold any joy. “Mommy is going to leave once we get there but hopefully your father will be home,” said as she started back the way they came. “Maybe we’ll stop to get some ice cream on the way.”

Joy quickly hounded confusion out of his mind at the mention of his favorite frozen treat. Eagerly he followed, thoughts of the mean looking princess pushed to the back of his mind.
>>>
Present time

Crack Shot was shaken from his flashback by a deep rumbling that sent the nearby debris dancing. He made last minute checks on his disguise. “The tears will help sell it,” the thought came to him as he felt the moisture condensed under his eyes. “First time in months,” he mused.

The rumbling increased steadily vibrating loose debris and Crack Shot himself. He did a final check for what was most likely his last fight, adjusting the 2 and a half inches of retractable and sharpened death attached to his hoof. “Not much against a tank.” He could see it now charging the mighty steel vehicle and furiously scratching its paint.

The tank finally appeared. A standard manticore class, about 16 to 20 hoofs tall, with chipped and worn purple, black, and silver painting covering it. Its main turret, which somepony could easily fit their front hoof in it, pointed directly at Crack Shot. its secondary, a machine gun protruding form the front, seemed to be bent and out of commission. Behind it trotted its infantry. Crack Shot counted about 15 or 18 heads, but with the tank slowly obscuring his view this was probably wrong. Its top hatch remained closed and it was slowly approaching, wary of ambush. The unit stopped midway down the street. From behind the steel wall that was the tank a voice came.

“Night!” it called and waited for an answer.

“Eternal!” Crack Shot hoped that that was still being used. When he wasn’t torn to shreds, the breath he did not know he was holding was expelled.

The tank didn’t approach but the infantry did, very cautiously. Eyes scanned buildings and sky for impending death. Their dirty black uniforms and black saddles carrying an assortment of weapons stuck out among the white of the snow. The big 501 on their helmets marked them part of the elite tank forces of the invading force. The deep violet unicorn mare at the front, obviously the leader, stopped 5 hoofs away.

“Name and Rank now or we shoot!” all eyes and sights trained on him.

“Corporal Ripple,” the stenciled name on his uniform, “acting C.O of the scout squad gamma, Major Fumes was killed a couple days ago.” This was found scratched into a dirty journal.

“Where is the rest of your squad?” they seemed more relaxed, good.

“Holed up in a shop down the street, there is a burned out carriage right in front of it,” that would lead them straight into the guns of his squad. It would be a massacre. “ volunteered to stay out here to meet you, ma’am.” Another voice from the crowd sprang up, sweet and smooth.

“Are you injured?” A pony made its way towards him. This one was different; the pony’s uniform off-white and a red cross instead of a 501 on its helmet. He could not tell whether it was a stallion or a mare do to the bandanna over its face and the full medical bags slung on its sides, covering most of its midsection. Crack Shot had to play his part or the whole plan would suffer.

“Yes, but not seriously,” motioning towards his wrapped flanks. “Caught a stray in the rear,” The squad around him gave a chuckle. “I will need to tell the tank commander some new orders command sent me with.”

The violet unicorn shouted orders around and the squad moved around him, none of them really looked at him as they were too busy scanning the buildings. He had to stop himself from letting out a sigh of relief. Which if he had would have preemptive.

The white clad pony had stayed behind and was beginning to walk towards him. If he allowed himself to be attended to his secret would surely be revealed but neither could he just kill the pony with the tank still sitting 8 or 10 hoofs away. It had moved closer, but remained closed, the officer probably getting from his command position to the exit. Just a couple of seconds and then the plan would start. The pony had gotten almost gotten to him, only 3 or 4 hoofs away when the tank opened up. A unicorn with what was maybe once a mint coat, but now smudged black from the tanks blood, lifted out his head and torso from the steel beast’s belly. The markings on his helmet named him as commander.

“Command’s being risky giving orders to infantry scum like you,” his speaking was refined, probably from Trottingham or Manehatten. “Who knows what would have happened if you had been captured, probably squealed at the sight of a knife and told them everything ” the way he had said “them” was like if he had been speaking of a dirty vermin nuisance. Crack Shot did not like this pony.

“They said it was too risky sending it on of the air waves, something meant for yours and my ears only,” looking at the white clad pony still approaching him. “Your friend must leave.” He said looking at the medic.

“Medic, go attend to the other wounded.” and with that the medic cantered off in the direction of the doomed squad. The filthy unicorn watched the pony for a second before returning his eyes to Crack Shot.

The chatterer of rifle and screams of death sprang up from behind Crack Shot. The now startled tank commander jumped at these sounds. His narrowed dark green eyes burrowed into Crack Shot’s before realization dawned on his face .

“Its a fucking trap!” he screamed to the other crew members within the tank as he reached with his mouth to the open hatch. With a feral cry Sharp leaped into the smokey skies above from the roofs and began to plummet towards the tank. The mint unicorn eyes grew large.He dropped the hatch and ducked his head for a second. He returned with a mouth operated pistol. Crack Shot jumped up and galloped at the wall of imposing steel.

Even though there was a heated battle was fought not far from him, Crack shot heard the pistols pop and saw it throw the inexperienced shooter to the side and tear itself from its owners mouth, Also knocking off the unsecured helmet. Looking to Sharp he saw the surprise in the young Pegasus's eyes before Sharp plowed into the ground beside the tank. Crack Shot quickly ran to his side, the tank backing up with its dazed commander still on top,concern only for his friend.
A slowly growing red stain surrounded the sky blue Pegasus fed by a hole right at the bottom of his neck. Crack Shot rushed to his side and gathered his friend's head in his hoofs. He felt a cold metal being pushed into his side and when he looked found the grenade bundle. He met Sharps eyes for a second and saw a plead to take them, he must finish Sharp’s part. Finding the Pegasus's eyes once more he witnessed the light in them flicker and go out. His chest ceased rising and his last breath pushed at Crack Shots dirty bangs.

“Find Paradise,” Crack Shot whispered to his fallen fellow. Grieving would have its time later. Taking the string of bombs in his mouth he ran at the slowly moving steel monster. Jumping and clinging to the slippery steel, he began to make his way up the to the top of the turret. The dazed unicorn had somewhat regained his senses and jumped up to meet his advance. The smile that opened the pony’s face showed perfect teeth. Crack Shot wanted to correct that. He squared up, rearing up on his hind legs, and activated the hoof blade. The unicorn kept down on all four hoofs and eyed the knife with hesitant eyes. The nightmare tank trooper made the first move, closing the small distance in a single hop, kicking with both back hoofs. Crack Shot hopped back and swung downward at the retreating hoofs and missed. Knocked off balance form his swing he tried to recover. The unicorn reared up and threw a jab at Crack’s face. It connect with a sharp crack knocking Crack flat on his stomach and the grenades fell out, falling into a recess on the turret. “Now you die vermin.” The unicorn prepared both his back hoofs to cave in the Crack’s skull. With a grunt the unicorn brought them down only to connect with cold unforgiving steel and crumpled in pain. Crack shot slashed at the ponies legs and sank a fair sized cut in one of its legs. The unicorn only gave a small grunt of pain.Crack quickly stepped above the fallen pony and rested the knife on his throat. “Fuck you,” The unicorn grinned.Crack shot retracted the knife and brought down his back hoof on the stomach of the commander. Doubling in pain the pony continued. “You hit like a foal,” Rolling onto his back he gave a toothy grin. “You're mother was a whore,” A malicious smile lighted Crack Shot’s face as he brought his other hoof into the teeth of the commander. The pony spit two or three teeth out of to the side before looking back with a smile, showing the newly missing teeth. “All you got you little hayseed?” He was awarded with another hoof to the face. Crack Shot rolled the pony onto its stomach. The unicorn spat another glob of blood onto the purple paint. “Killing your friend was just as fun as playing a fun party ga...” The sentence was cut off by the grenade bundle being forcibly fed to him. Crack quickly bucked him towards the hatch. The pony slid into the waiting hole.

“For Sharp you bastards,” the whisper barely beating the wind. He quickly rushed to get off the tank. He hit the ground and put all his being into his gallop.

The explosion lifted him off his hoofs as the magazine of the tank exploded and the light blinded him. The tank wrenched itself apart, tossing a mass of steel flying all around.. Crack Shot skidded to a stop in front of the red apple cart. His ears rung like church bells , all he tasted was copper, and he blinked away spots from his vision. But he had achieved success and smiled as he rolled over to survey his job. The street seemed to be on fire and the explosion had wrecked shop fronts on both sides of the street and flaming wreckage still rained from the sky. Sharp would be proud. Very proud
His smiled grew as he surveyed the destruction. Blackness began creeping upon him. He became aware of a warm liquid surrounding his forelegs.

“For Sharp,” he whispered again to the wind and gave into the welcoming blackness.

A/N Thanks to be editor/pre-reader Laurence Brown