> Fallout Equestria: Crimson
>  by JO3
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Ch 1 Landfall
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

        Normally I yearn for field deployment, but right now my killing spree was keeping me happy in the holodeck. I found this little hide on one of the Ragnarok bases that let me see far and wide. The SRS99-S5 AM barked like a mad dog, but from this range no one can hear it.
        A Red helmet poked above a rock on the the central hill, and with the sun to my back (plus a minuscule profile), I know he couldn't see me. I lined up the shot. *BOOM*
        Sniper Spree
        The 14.5mm casing rang out on the floor to me side... it sounded like a bell. As I scanned my sight lines, no new target presented itself. The Blues' Mantis marched along the river, towards the Red base by the waterfall.
        So far it looks like we have thoroughly pushed their shit in. It looks like this is going to be another easy win. Wait... there's another Red guy. *BOOM*
        “Joe, shotgun-Mongoose?” Andrew says as he worked the pump. I met him many years back, before the Infinity. Now, we're the best of buds.
        “I don't have anything else to do. Let's give'em Hell.” Shotgun-Mongoose. Always unexpected.
        I hopped onto the quad as Andrew climbed onto the back. I drove straight into the man cannon. As we soared, the gods of awesome knew that we were too rad and had us do a barrel roll.
        With a splash we found ourselves in the river at the base of the hill. I drove against the stream on the same path as the Mantis earlier. When we rounded the corner we found eight different forms of Hell waiting for us. Eight Red forms of Hell.
        Luckily the Mantis was getting the shellacking... at least for now. A red beam seeming to be from Thor himself tore into the Mantis, setting it alight. It still walked, it still shot and it still didn't die, so naturally a swarm of blue spiders decided to swarm it like the plague. Many pretty little explosions later... I have no idea what happened, I had already gotten the hell out of there.
        Looping around Red Base, Andrew jumped out to grab their sniper rifle. Only the enemy sniper was still using it. He drew his blade and crept slowly up after the marksman. He raised the blade, ready to pounce for the assassination. *BOOM*
        Yoink!
        “Dammit, Joe! Not again.”
        “Any kill's a fair kill, Pizza.” I still do not know why the other Spartans have taken to calling him Pizza, not even he knows. It's just his name, as much as Joe is to me, or Betsy is to my breech-loaded grenade launcher with trigger-delay EMP rounds and a max range of 450 meters... don't judge me!
        With their rifle, Pizza set up his hide near the Reds' side man cannon, similar to how I was set up at Blue Base. I moved into the rock ridge behind Red to cover him. This is going to be fun. Pizza went to work with the sniper rifle.
        *BOOM*        *BOOM*        *BOOM*        *BOOM*
        *BOOM*         *BOOM*        *BOOM*        *click*
        Apparently their sniper had been a busy little bee before we “relieved” him of his duty. The rifle, however, barks like a mad dog. The enemy though, is much closer now. And thus, the swarm commences. I suddenly knew how that Mantis felt.
        “Bad guys, incoming!” I radioed to my pepperoni friend.
        *BOOM*        *BOOM* Killing Frenzy        *BOOM*        *BOOM* Sharpshooter
        I could only kill a handle full at a time; Pizza, a fistful. But these were Spartans. They learned, adapted, became better killers. Faster, more efficient. More lethal. Despite this, these guys just kept on running into my sights. Around now I was wishing I was running the Ammo Support Upgrade. *KABOOM* Or Explosives. Explosives is nice. *KABOOM* Frags flying, I’m leaving. Time to go!
        “I'm routed, heading inside. Check your fire, Pizza.”
        I poked my shiny blue cranium out of cover. *BOOM*        *BOOM*        *click*
        Both missed. I switched to my Magnum. The Mighty Magnum! All shall fear... *KABOOM* or shall learn to fear it. Did I mention I hate the Grenadier Tactical Package? Honestly, frag spamming is something even a greenhorn Marine can do, why would a Spartan need to stoop so low as to- *KABOOM* oh yeah, because it's damn effective! My shields, or lack thereof, seem to agree.
        Normally, having no shield is a death sentence in the holodeck sims, but I have my big blue buddy, the Hardlight Shield! *froowm* Wait... aren't we supposed to use frags to defeat a Hardlight Shield? Yeah, I didn't think this through... *BLAM*
        Oh sweet gods of awesome, the Splazer Spartan's an idiot! The red ray of death deflected off my shield into baddie #2 (right), and baddie #1 (left) was either just as stupid or out of grenades. Either way, his bullets just deflected off my Shield until Pizza poked his head out.
        A pirouette and a stabby-stab later, Pizza finally got his assassination. “That was close,” I said, turning to fire on Mr. Splazer on the central hill. Pizza ran back into the baddy's base.
        *BAP*        *BAP*        *BAP*        *BAP*        *BAP*
        Splazer keeled over and I ran into the red base. Pizza was already getting work done with his 8 gauge. *BOOM* shckshck *BOOM* shckshck *BOOM* shckshck
        “Howdy!” I called out to him, walking into the little chamber beneath the top level. All of a sudden my radio cut in.
        “Fireteam Crimson, assemble in the ops center immediately. We have a mission for you,” it was Commander Palmer.
        Game over. Victory!

        “You called us?” I asked as Pizza and I walked up to the holotable. It was depicting a planet.
        “Nice of you to join us. We need you two to do a long range recon of this planet here. You'll stay put there and keep an eye out for Jul 'Mdama's fleet. Send word only when you find him, we'll swing by to pick you up... if we don't catch him first,” Palmer laid out the mission for us.
        Pizza spoke up, “Commander, why did you choose us for the mission. I believe Fireteams Forest or Avalanche already have experience with lengthy deployment, sir.”
        “I have called upon you two because not much is known about this world and some of the eggheads would like to learn as much as possible about it. All that the long range probes have returned thus far is that it should be teeming with life. And frankly Forest is a bunch of stuck ups and Avalanche tends to refuse backup too often. Either of them would be liable to try to take out 'Mdama before calling in the cavalry. I still have a score to settle with that hinge-head...” Palmer responded.
        My turn, “Sir, what kind of equipment should we pack, and what will we be allowed to bring?”
        “Anything that isn't bolted down, so long as you don't pack the entire ship. We’ll be passing close to the planet, you will be using a Pelican to get ground side. Bring whatever you want, but keep in mind that we don't do deliveries.”
        Ok. Seemed straight forward. Hunker down, keep eyes peeled... profit! “We'll go get set, sir.”
        “Dismissed.”

        Pizza and I were seeing how much stuff could fit in a Pelican. We had weapon containers attached to the sides, a Warthog in the back passenger area, a Mantis held on the tail, and somehow we still managed to fit our food and water stores as well as the comm gear into the bird as well. It was stuffed more than a Thanksgiving turkey, but it could still fly... barely.
        Roland got on the comms, “Okay, Crimson, this show's on the road. We're nearing your planet soon, so get ready to launch. Good luck out there, things always seem to get exciting wherever you wind up.”
        “Thanks Roland. It almost sounded like you were gonna miss us. Oh, and sometimes things do get a bit too exciting. We've already lost some members of Crimson because of that, so let's hope things are uneventful. I might want to write a book when I'm down there,” I said.
        “Yeah, Joe's got a point Roland. I'm gonna miss those sons-of-bitches. Anyways, see you 'round!” Pizza added.
        We grabbed the last of the items that wouldn't fit in the back and climbed aboard the Pelican. I was going to be flying this thing, and Pizza got the heavy gun up top.
        After a short pause, the lift started to descend. In a few moments, the exit tunnel was visible. I keyed the ignition.
        With a surge of speed, the Pelican rocketed down the tunnel. When we left the Infinity, I could see the blue and green planet on my 11 o'clock. I checked the nav ball and pointed us retrograde. The engines hummed softly in the vacuum of space (or rather through the structure of the Pelican). Looking back, I saw the Infinity for one last time as it slipped into the dark of slipspace. This was going to take a lot longer than we thought, wasn't it?
        
        The atmosphere burned a bright red as we began our descent planetside. I made sure to get the nose pointed forward, and once the reentry effects cool off I'd start maneuvering for a landing. Until then, a little ditty ran through my head from back when I was doing some training exercises with the 105th.
        I keyed the mic, “Helljumper, Helljumper, where have you been?”
        “Feet first into Hell and back again!” Pizza responded.
        “When I die, please bury me deep!”
        “Place an MA5 down by my feet!”
        “Don't cry for me, don't shed no tear!”
        “Just back my box with my PT gear!”
        “'Cause one early morning 'bout zero-five!”
        “The ground will rumble, there'll be lightnin' in the sky!”
        “Don't worry don't come undone...”
        “It's just my ghost on a PT run!”
        We shared a laugh as the Pelican's reentry effects started dying down. I kicked it into auto-hover to help slow down. “Pizza, start looking for a good LZ. I'd like a place with plenty of cover, foliage, and preferably a nearby water source.”
        We scanned the ground below. “How 'bout down there?” A waypoint popped up on my HUD. It was in the middle of a forest. The plant life was a vibrant green. The trees would provide good cover. I would bet that there would be plenty of foliage and a good water source down there, too. I found a clearing nearby and set the bird down in it.
        We climbed out of the Pelican, both of us toting our own loadouts for this kind of mission. I had a BR (Arctic camo, because awesome), the Mighty Magnum, a pair of frags (always frags), a Thruster Pack (weeeeeee!), and Mobility and Ammo Packages.
        Pizza had a DMR, a Bolt Shot, Plasma grenades, a Hardlight Shield, and the Shielding and Ammo Packages. Looks like we were set for a Grunt birthday party. Too bad there was no Covenant.
        “Alright, Pizza. I'll grab the 'Hog and do some recon of the forest while you continue unpacking everything.”
        “Okay. I'll see if I can establish some defensive positions by the time you get back.”
        With that I hopped into the Warthog and drove it out of the pelican. The trees here were spaced far enough apart that I could typically drive through them.
        The foliage seemed to do a nice job of concealing our LZ, I wasn't even fifty yards outside the perimeter before I couldn't see any bit of it. Luckily Pizza and I had IFF tags active. A blue triangle pointed his position out to me. At least I wouldn't get lost.
        I continued to drive through at a leisurely 15 mph. So far nothing to report. I activated my audio recorder so that the eggheads could get their report when they came back for us.
        “This is Lieutenant Joe of Fireteam Crimson. This planet seems to be teeming with life, or at least of the plant variety. So far, I haven't encountered signs of animal life. This is the first-hour report, I'll be back soon.” I ended the recording.
        Once I came across a small lake at the Eastern edge of the forest I got out of the Warthog. Just past this lake was acre after acre of rolling hills, all populated by equally spaced apple trees. Something was up.
        I started the recording again, “Addendum: it seems that there is an apple orchard just past the forest. I would continue reconnaissance, however I believe I am more needed at the LZ. I'll be doubly sure to check it out after I see how Ensign Pizza has fortified the LZ.”
        Once I got back, I was fairly surprised at how well Pizza had dispersed our supplies; weapons and grenades on pallets, barricades in a rough perimeter, and turrets set to lock down the area. He was even using the Mantis as a barricade that he could quickly man. The Pelican was a little ways off to the side of the base.
        “Wow. I didn't know you were so good at fortification. Were you with the engineers at some point?”
        “Nope. I've been fighting behind cover for long enough to know what's good and what's not.”
        “Well, I saw an apple orchard to the East, just beyond a lake at the edge of the forest. I think we should check it out tomorrow.”
        “Sounds good to me. Do you think our stuff will be here when we get back?”
        “It should. I don't think there's anything around here that would take it or want it, aside from whoever built that orchard. My money's on it being an Innie from way back when who came here to get away from the UNSC. You?”
        “Maybe some ONI spook team that we don't have the clearance to know about. Or what if it just formed naturally there? My money's on either one.”
        “So you get two bets and I only get one? That's hardly fair.”
        “Think of it more like splitting in blackjack. It's just some more casino BS to put your money on the table. Speaking of casino BS, wanna play?”
        That deserved a chuckle. I sat down and joined Pizza at a makeshift table. I got the camping stool and he got the folding chair. He pulled out a deck of cards and started dealing onto the crate/table.
        The cards went 'round. Me, then him, then me. It finished with him showing a King of Hearts. I had a Queen and Seven of Clubs. Seeing how he didn't have a blackjack, and myself feeling lucky and dumb, I took a hit. Five of Spades. Damn 22... so close, yet too much. He revealed he had a Ten of Spades.
        I dealt next. We didn't shuffle the cards in, we do that to mark the end of the game and the start of a different one. I had a Four of Spades, he had a Six of Diamonds and a Nine of Hearts. 15. “Hit me.” Six of Clubs, 21. Looks like I am going to have my work cut out for me. I flipped the Two of Spades, then started drawing. Four of Hearts. 10. Six of Spades. 16. Eight of Hearts, a bust at 24.
        His turn. Jack, Six of Hearts. I'll stand this time; lots of low cards last hand. He reveals a Jack, Four of Clubs. Now a Five of Diamonds. His 19 beat my 16. Damn, I'm oh for three now. Normally it's the other way around.
        My deal. King, Seven for him, deuce for me. He stands. Flip a Ten, draw a Two. Again. Eight... bust at 22. His win.
        His deal. Ace, Eight off-suit. Soft nineteen, I'll stand. He has a Nine, then a Queen of Hearts. Push.
        My deal. King, Jack for him, a Jack for me. I check and find an Eight. No way I'll throw him off. He stands. He wins.
        His turn. Pair of Threes for me, a Five for him. I split. 3/5, 3/9. I hit on both. Ace left, Four right. Totals now at 19 soft and 16. I stand left, hit right. Deuce. Hit. Three. 19 left, 21 right. His move. He reveals a Queen, then draws a nine. Dealer bust. The win has been doubled!
        My deal. Nine cards left in the deck. Queen, Three him; Ten, King for me. He doesn't know that I have 20. He hits. Ace, 14. He hits. Ten, 24. He busts, I win.
        “Joe, there are only three cards left. What's the next game?”
        “Let's try Anaconda, my luck should fair better there.”
        He shuffled and dealt us both seven cards. I got K/J/3 of Spades and 9/6/5/2 of Clubs. I passed on my K/J/3. He gave me a Four of Hearts and a 6/2 of Spades. I was really hoping for the flush. We showed our cards. Me: Two Pair, Sixes and Twos, Nine kicker. Him: Two pair, Jacks and Threes, Ace kicker. Shit. Maybe I could pressure him somehow...
        “You got me. Maybe we should find something to actually bet with?”
        “What did you have in mind? We've got dirt, trees, foliage, and everything we brought with us.”
        “Ammo?”
        “Alright. Ante at Five rounds of 7.62?”
        “Sure.”
        Rounds clinged in the middle as I dealt. I got a rainbow of A/K/Q/10/8/7/7. I passed on the 8/7/7. He gave me 7/9/5. Nothing. Time to bluff! I grinned like a mad hatter and tossed a SAW mag in the middle. He paused. “Joe, I just gave you two diamonds, and you gave me none. I swear you've got the flush, I'm out,” he laid down his Full House (Eights over Sevens) to my Ace high straight draw. I was all grins! Honestly, if his armor wasn't red before it would be now.
        His deal. Before we saw our cards I said, “Let's try seven-card No-Peaky.” He flipped one more card, the one to beat, a Five. I flipped my Jack. He flipped a Four, then a Queen. I flipped a Six, then a King, besting his Queen. He flipped a 3/10/8/10. Pair of Tens. My turn. Jack. His last card was a two, I win. My other cards were a 2/K/7.
        I was about to deal when a guttural roar shook our souls. “Joe, it sounded like it came from up North.” I set down the deck and drew my BR.
        “We can play later. On me,” I gestured for Pizza to follow. I was at a half-crouch gliding more than inching towards the edge of our LZ.
        We trekked through the forest, maintaining a heading of 000 until we heard screaming at 035. We turned and ran towards the screaming, it sounded like a man's. Maybe it was the Innie? Either way it sounded like a lion was after him.
        We pushed through the trees, winding up on a small dirt road. I motioned for Pizza to follow me from the other side. Another roar told us to go East along the road. We stayed off the road, following just behind the trees to either side.
        Eventually we found the source of the roaring and screaming. It was a lion... and a bat... and a scorpion all in the same package. Did this thing come with cup holders, too? Those eggheads would just love this guy if I wasn't about to kill him. I motioned Pizza to halt and hold fire. A let loose a burst. *BAM BAM BAM* The bullets bounced of his skull... and caught his attention! The beast charged me and swiped a massive, clawed paw at me.
        Me shields flared, registering one-quarter left. The hit also knocked loose my BR. This thing tried to strike me again, this time I ducked... right into the scorpion tail! The medical suite in my armor registered no puncture. Maybe that's were my luck went? I drew my knife and plunged it seven inches deep into this beast's throat before he could attack again.
        He didn't go down. Instead, he started thrashing side to side, knocking me away. How strong was this thing? Mjolnir weighs a thousand pounds! Literally! Pizza's DMR rang out. *BAP* *BAP* This time, the rounds penetrated the beast's ass, literally. He turned 180 and started to charge after Pizza. I ran up and grabbed the beast's mane. I drew the Mighty Magnum and shoved it into his ear. *BAP* *BAP* *BAP* *BAP* *BAP* *BAP* *BAP* *BAP* *click*
        The semi-explosive rounds blew open the left side of his head. He was finally dead, and just in time seeing as Pizza was wearing his brains. My shield recharged in a golden shimmer.
        “This is why my armor's red, I can be lazy about the clean up,” Pizza joked.
        “Let's just make sure everyone's alright. It's clear we aren't alone hear.”
        “Agreed.”
        My right shoulder ached a little. Damn that thing was strong! I looked around, reloading my magnum. I spotted some clothing and baggage on the road... and blood. I walked closer, grabbing my BR en route and started looking more closely.
        Looked like a bunch of dead horses. Maybe cavalry, or a caravan? Probably just some farm animals. By my count I shouldn't be that far from the apple orchard. Either way, they were all dead. No Innie though, he probably made a run for it. Smart thinking.
        Looking through the saddlebags though, I noticed a lot of OD Green supplies. Some sabers. A trio of shields. Hell, even a halberd! Ok, that farmer was either an archaic Innie or an antiques collector. Why would an antiques collector be this far from UNSC space? ...Probably just an Innie.
        These weapons were of high quality, but what interested me more was the bags. They were labeled “Royal Canterlot Guard”. Never heard of the outfit. “Hey, Pizza! Have you ever heard of the 'Royal Canterlot Guard'?”
        “No, why?”
        “All of this cavalry has it stamped on their saddlebags. And on closer inspection, even their weapons and armor. Come to think of it, who would outfit cavalry horses with golden armor? It'll just slow them down, and is probably why they got killed.”
        “I don't know, maybe a Drill Sergeant they really pissed off?”
        “I don't think so. They aren't fitted like any military unit I've ever seen.” I opened the bags on what seemed to be the commander's horse (the one with the most stripes on his armor). Inside I found a note.

        Sergeant Berserk,
                Manticores have been encroaching in the Whitetail Wood from the Everfree, north of it. We'll need you and your men to take them out. Additionally, report any findings you discover about why they're entering the Whitetail. It would be nice to prevent this problem in the future.
        Happy hunting,
        Captain Cupcake

        “Interesting. It seems that that thing we just fought is called a 'Manticore'. This cavalry unit was sent to exterminate it and others like it in this forest, which apparently is called the 'Whitetail Wood'. North of here is a forest called the 'Everfree' were it seems these manticores come from.”
        “So, Joe, what do we do now?”
        “Now, we RTB. This unit will probably be back to get their things. We would be wise to be gone when they return.”
        We marched back South. I knew we were probably off target to get back to base, but we would get close. I made doubly sure to turn on the Pelican's beacon once we got back. It would make things like this easier to deal with.
        “Hey, Joe. Tire tracks,” Pizza gesture towards the ground at our front.
        “Looks like Warthog treading. I think this was from my recon trip earlier. Head West from here, following the tracks. We'll be home free soon enough.”
        When we got back we decided to bunk up in the Pelican's troop bay. I activated the beacon and a waypoint showed up on my HUD. I laid down on the bench across from Pizza. His snoring confirmed I was by my lonesome self here. I started recording.
        “This is Joe, with an after-action report. Hearing screaming and roaring, Pizza and I went north to investigate. We encounter a creature called a manticore, who appears to be indigenous. It seems to have taken out a cavalry unit from the 'Royal Canterlot Guard'. The manticore is some sort of lion-bat-scorpion thing. The Royal Canterlot Guard is a complete unknown. Their weapons and armor aren't UNSC nor Covie, and definitely not Forerunner. I guess I'll be checking out the site of the manticore encounter tomorrow instead of the orchard. Guess you can't win 'em all.”

____________________________________________________________________________________________



	"Spartan, we are recording your account of these events for historical records. I would not recommend making up erroneous lies to cover your tail."


	"Admiral, this is the truth of the matter. Telling it any other way would be a lie and a betrayal of history."


	"Yet you are the only one who can account for this."


	"My wings should be evident of the truth, Admiral."



> Ch 2 Meet and Greet
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	The next day, I awoke first. I'm glad Mjolnir's comfortable enough to sleep in. Really helps out in treacherous territory. Regardless, I opened the Pelican's troop bay. Daylight greeted my Legendary visor.
        I stepped outside, grabbed a couple of MREs from the crate/table and started checking the long-range sensors. So far nothing, though there was thousands of contacts very close to the planet's surface. I smacked the antenna. Nothing. I chalked it up to some sort of interference and went on my way.
        There wasn't much to do since Pizza wasn't up yet. I sat and munched, listening to the birds chirp, the leaves rustle in the gentle breeze and twigs snap right behind me. Wait... what was that last part? I quickly slammed my helmet back on. Just in time, too.
        *Twang* My shields barely flashed at all, just dropping a sliver. I spun around and drew the Mighty Magnum. I also knocked over the folding chair. Poor chair.
        I couldn't see anything but foliage, luckily this is a Mark VI Gen2 helmet. I switched to VISR. Still nothing? Hold it, VISR only works with registered shapes. Maybe thermals? Bingo. Medium heat sig 35 meters to my front, in the foliage. *BAP* Running Riot! Really? It was still keeping count? Either way, kill confirmed!
        I looked around as Pizza came out of the Pelican weapon at the ready. I found a broken arrow shaft on the ground. Looking back at the heat sig, I started to wonder just what I killed. Walking over, I found it to be another horse. This one, however, had a blue pastel coat to it. That's not normal. It also had a crossbow in its mouth.
        Did a horse really just try to kill me with a crossbow in a forest? Not even the wackiest games of Clue can come up with that kind of a story! “Keep me covered,” I called to Pizza. I saw more saddlebags. Time to sift through them!
        This one had a bunch of gold coins with what looked like this planet's sun on one side and its moon on the other. Each one was about the size of the challenge coin I had in one of my ammo pouches. I pocketed those coins just because they were neat. Next I pulled out some sort of purple chemical in an Erlenmeyer flask. Either its grape juice or deadly. As tempting as it is, I'll pass. I set it aside.
        Ah! Another note. My sleuthing skills are coming in handy now!

        Corporal Soup,
                We've investigated the area where your platoon got wiped. They were all killed by the manticore there, but something else killed the manticore. We're not sure what. The forest was locked down since these things started encroaching South. What I need you to do is track down and, preferably, kill whatever took down that manticore. The damage done to the beast doesn't match any of Equestria's weapons, so stay frosty.
        Happy hunting,
        Captain Cupcake

        “What's more odd to you: the fact that these orders look more like letters, or the fact both came from a man by the name of Cupcake?” I asked Pizza.
        He laughed, “His name's Cupcake?”
        I donned my stuck-up officer façade, “That's Captain Cupcake to you, Ensign.”
        We shared a laugh together until it awkwardly died down. “Pizza, the odd thing is though... I got a confirmed kill on whoever shot at me with that crossbow. Here is only this itty bitty cavalry horse, with his tongue around the trigger. With this being a new world and all, these odd names, and that manticore... What if these horses are in fact the soldiers that got jumped way back there?”
        “Joe, that's crazy...”
        “As improbable as it is, it still has a non-zero chance of being true, and in all likelihood, is. I'd put my money on it.”
        “And you would lose it just as fast, plus you already bet on Innies.”
        “Just think of it as splitting.”
        “That's not fair!”
        “It's what you did...”
        “True, but this one is with... more evidence! Yeah, that's it!”
        “Is card counting any different?”
        That shut him up. I decided to have Pizza stay behind and guard the LZ as I went North to investigate the manticore area. It seemed rather fast to have an assassin after me the morning of the next day.
        When I got to the road I turned around to make sure the beacon was working. Bingo! Blue triangle, 12 o'clock. Pizza was out of range for what his armor could do, but the Pelican had more juice. I turned to head East along the route from yesterday. I started up another recording.
        “This is Joe. Birds have been confirmed. Repeat, birds have been confirmed.” ...What? I didn't have anything else solid to report in.
        I finally found the area of the manticore attack. I made sure my BR was chambered. The first thing that I noticed was the lack of bodies. Everything had been moved overnight. The blood remained, though. I heard voices, one man talking to another, also a man. I started the recording and made my way behind some trees. “Surveillance,” I whispered into my mic.
        “...As I've been telling you, this is unlike anything I've ever seen before!” The first one spoke.
        “Many thing's you've never seen before. What makes it so that this is one I should be aware of?” the gruff, second voice responded.
        “Well, this happened to have taken out the manticore even after your platoon couldn't even scratch it.”
        “I already know that something else killed the manticore, and I've already sent my best tracker after it. He should be back soon.” Apparently this second voice was Captain Cupcake.
        “No! Captain, what I mean to say is that it isn't who killed the manticore, but what. You see, what killed this manticore was a weapon the likes of which we've never seen before! And I think I know how it works.”
        “Then how does it, Keen Eye?” The Captain sounded grumpy. Probably because his platoon was dead, or that “Keen Eye” was obnoxious, either way, couldn't blame him.
        “High velocity, minute projectiles. They must travel at extreme speeds to do such damage.”
        “Clearly, because tearing off half of a manticore's face is not an easy, delicate job.” Okay, curiosity got the best of me. Time to peek around the corner.
        Wow. In blue dress attire was a hulking horse. If Arnold Schwarzenegger was a horse, this would be that on steroids... after Spartan training. Even if he was a man, I wouldn't want to fight him, and I'm the supersoldier!
        The other horse was scrawny, and in a white lab coat. The two both had white (fur) coats. Cupcake had a brown tail, but his mane was concealed by his uniform. The lab tech, Keen Eye, had thinning, grey hair for his mane and tail. His mane was in a two-credit comb-over.
        The third horse in the group was wearing all black. He had similar gold armor to the cavaliers and Cpl Soup. He held a sword in his mouth. From ancient studies, it looked like a roman gladius.
        I'll just assume he's the Captain's bodyguard.
        The lab tech pointed right at me, and I ducked back behind the tree. “You see! This here could have only been done by said projectile. I believe you should have someone try to pull the projectiles out of the manticore, it would really help me devise a weapon that can use such projectiles.”
        I let out a held breath. Apparently he was only pointing at the tree one of my ricochets had hit, not me. Good. The Captain spoke, “I've already ordered the manticore incinerated, but you'd be more than welcome to sift through the ashes. I would try to find a reference in that spot on the tree, if I were you.”
        I heard two sets of footsteps leave (or is it hoofsteps?). That left me and the egghead. Great.
        I spun around the tree, grabbing the lab tech around the neck. I sidestepped behind him and continued my spin, bringing both of us down to our sides. He tried what he could with his hooves to try to dislodge my grip, but he clearly wasn't military. He tried bucking me with his hind legs, until I wrapped my own around his gut, securing his position. The shear weight of Mjolnir would keep him down.
        His struggles lessened, and then ceased. I let go and rolled back onto my feet. Figuring it best to bring him with me, I slung my BR, scooped him up in my left arm, and kept my magnum drawn with my right. It was just like CTF.
        I brought him back to the LZ, Pizza was manning the fifty. “Friendly plus one coming in,” I radioed.
        “Who's the plus one?”
        “A prisoner.”
        “Why is he a horse?”
        “I won the bet.”
        “Really?”
        I hit play on my surveillance recording. “This was between Captain Cupcake and our friend here, Keen Eye. Let's get him tied up before he comes to. I don't want him running for help AND screaming.”
        I kept my BR on Keen Eye as Pizza went to grab some rope. This was going to be an interesting day indeed. Pizza tied him to a tree on our perimeter as I sat down to finish my breakfast. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing!
        Once I finished, Pizza and I swapped places, me getting the fifty, Pizza getting some chow. As I kept the HMG trained on the perimeter, I heard some groaning from my six. “Pizza, you've got the gun.” I left the HMG and turned to greet our POW.
        He seemed to be shocked to find himself tied up and even more so to see me. I depolarized my visor to talk to him face to face.
        He spoke first, “You... what are you?”
        “That's beside the point. I'd like you to know that no harm will befall you without provocation.”
        “Oh, you're in some big trouble now! Cupcake will come looking for me... and he already has a tracker after you! One of the best!”
        “That tracker wouldn't happen to be named Cpl Soup, now would he?”
        “How did you...?”
        I just pointed the busted arrow shaft at him, “...without provocation,” I repeated
        “What?.. You killed him!”
        “He shot first. Beamed me in the back of the head, too. Glad I had my helmet on. Anyways, is it normal for the Captain to put a hit out on someone, or is it just that I'm special?”
        “He's afraid... I think. If he is, he's doing a good job of hiding it. I think he doesn't like having someone with superior firepower out and about.”
        “Ah, then we've got ourselves a modern Napoleon.”
        “Who?”
        “Not important... Now tell me, is the hit KOS or was it just Soup?”
        “KOS?”
        “Oh, you’re definitely not military. Kill On Sight, KOS.”
        “No, I think he wanted to keep it on the down-low. Why do you ask?”
        “Because you're going to introduce me to him.”
        Both Pizza and Keen Eye responded in tandem, “What?”, with Pizza spitting crumbs over the HMG.
        “Oh, yes! And, Pizza, you're gonna have to clean that up.”
        I was surprised my little prisoner didn't run away or lead me on a goose chase when I let him go. Maybe he was trying just to be friendly? It would be desirable for first contact. He took me right up to what looked like a temporary military camp. There were tents everywhere, but it didn't seem like there were any permanent structures. Maybe the manticore problem was a recent development?
        He walked me right up to what seemed to be the command tent, judging by the bodyguards out front, one of whom was familiar. I also took notice that most of the men here seemed either scared or in awe of my presence. I might be able to use that. Keen Eye said, “He's with me,” and the guards nervously let me through. Seeing as most of the troops here didn't pass my gut in stature, I guess it is only natural for me to stoop down to a crouch to enter the tent. Man, these horses were tiny!
        Cupcake dropped his jaw seeing me. Either that, or at seeing my BR in hand. “What in Tartarus is this thing?!” he belted at Keen Eye.
        “I killed the manticore... and your little hitman,” I told him.
        “What?”
        “You sent Cpl Soup to kill me. He fired, I survived. I fired back, he didn't.”
        “You killed one of my men?!”
        “In self defense, Captain. Right now I was wondering if we should work through the basics of first contact, or-”
        “I'll show you first contact!” He drew a dagger and lunged at me.
        Too close for my BR, and too fast for me to draw my knife, I rolled back. I put my boot under his gut and pushed, then completed my roll and 180'd. I launched him out of the tent and I rolled outside, myself.
        The guards, seeing the tussle, unsheathed their swords. They were out matched, it would be a slaughter. “Attack!” Cupcake yelled at the guards and troops, pointing a hoof at me. Looks like there was no peaceful way to do this. Why must first contacts always go so wrong? First Harvest, then Requiem, and now here! Wherever “here” may be...
        I drew my magnum with my left hand, bearing it down on the guard to my right. I turned to face him. *BAP* I then mule kicked the guard behind me in the face with my right boot. There was a resounding crunch. Double Kill!
        I only let my foot tap the ground before I brought up my right knee as I used my Thruster Pack to boost left, smashing the Captain in the face, before he could close the distance for a knife kill. His face made a similar crunch sound.
        I dual wielded my BR in my right hand, magnum left, sweeping for targets. A soldier charged me with his shield, possibly trying to draw my fire. I fired my BR straight through the shield, killing him. Triple Kill!
        Two more, nine o'clock. *BAP* *BAP* Overkill! Killtacular! Rampage!
        The other guards seemed to hesitate. Maybe I could use their rattled nerves? I let out a scream that seemed to come from the Devil himself, and I amplified it using Mjolnir's sound systems. Not quite a studio, but close enough for barking orders. They scattered like rats from a sinking ship. Looks like I won this round.
        I turned to see Keen Eye still stunned, jaw dropped, clearly on the verge of a breakdown. “I'll best be going... I really hope this doesn't happen again.” I left without waiting for his response. I faced no resistance on my trek back to the Pelican, they were probably still counting their losses and trying to get over it.
        “Hey, Joe. How'd it go?”
        “I killed five of them. So, not good.”
        “They'll probably be after us, now, you know that.”
        “Yeah, but their Captain wasn't the most talkative. I probably shouldn't have greeted him with 'I killed your Corporal', huh?”
        “Ya think?”
        “Just keep the gun up. They'll be here eventually.”
        I walked up to the long range scanner. Still nothing... wait. Those near-planetary contacts. Some of them are moving near here. Is it still a glitch, or could they have air support? Seeing as they have medieval cutlery, I'll say it's the glitch.
        I started another recording, “This is Joe. Turns out there is a sentient, native race to this planet. Their military seems to be equivalent to that of the 20th century, but their weapons and armor look like a bundle between medieval and ancient roman. First contact did not go as planned, we killed them in self defense, but they seem to have taken it as outright murder. We'll stay put to try and track 'Mdama's fleet, continue our original mission. We should be able to hold the line at our LZ. This is Joe, signing out.”
        “More science reports?” Pizza asked.
        “You know those egghead types, yes. I think we'd best start condition two watches, at least until the heat dies down.”
        “You know I hate condition two-”
        “Stow your belly-aching, you're a Spartan. We're both being hunted here, and I have a feeling they'll try to take our heads and leave the rest for those... manticore things.”
        “Alright, let's sync watches. You deal for first watch.”
        “Alright.”
        Timers synced, I dealt first. He got Ten, Nine; I got a Five. He stood. Flip, and it's a Seven. Hit. Six, I'm forced to stand at 18, he wins at 19. Looks like I got first watch. Just when it started raining, too.
        Pizza went and chowed down some early lunch as I stood watch for four hours.
        Two later, Pizza joined me, starting his watch. Two more, and I went to gobble another MRE and then hit the hay extra early. Two more hours and I went to relieve Pizza.
        “You know, this kind of watch is meant for three shifts, not two.”
        “Well, since when did we play precisely by the book?”
        “Good point.” He went back into the Pelican for some sleep. I stayed at the fifty, the auto-turret covering my ass. Two more hours of nothing.
        It went on like that for several shifts, the rain coming on and off periodically. Eventually, when Pizza was on the last two hours of his watch, I was having trouble sleeping in this dead of night. “I'll take the 'Hog out for a spin, try to clear my head. I'll be back for my shift, so stay put.”
        “Will do.”
        I hopped in and the engine growled in its oddly high-pitched tone. Not exactly a muscular-sounding vehicle, but it made that growl intimidating through sheer reputation. I headed East, along my path earlier that would take me to the lake.
        I nearly reached the edge of the lake when the Warthog got bogged down in the mud. This normally doesn't happen. I got out to see if I could excavate the tires. Ah, Hell, the 'Hog was tusk-deep in the mud. I headed back to see if the Mantis could pull the Warthog out.
        About 100 meters on my early return trip, some red blips popped up on my motion sensor. I halted, took cover by a tree and looked around. I wasn't seeing anything. I checked my motion sensor again. Oh, shit! They're above me!
        *Twang* Shields dropped a sliver, I aimed skyward. What the Hell? These horses had bat wings! As cool as that was, NOT FAIR! Their armor was also a dusky purple color, not the gold from the others. I scoped in and fired. *BAM BAM BAM* I also noticed these troops had slit eyes, like those of a cat. Unique.
        Another, behind me *BAM BAM BAM* no longer behind me. Double Kill! Great, this guy's still counting! *Twang* *Twang* *Twang* *Twang* Now that they were starting to fire en masse, my shields were starting to crumble. Time to really put up a fight! *BAM BAM BAM* *BAM BAM BAM* *BAM BAM BAM* All body shots, one dropped. No triple kill? Oh, well. *BAM BAM BAM* *BAM BAM BAM* Double Kill! Triple Kill! There it is! Untouchable! Ooh, a bonus!
        *woosh* I turned to face this one. He had landed behind me, brandishing a war axe. He swung downward, I thrusted to the side and drew my own blade. I tackled him to the ground, then sitting atop him, I plunged the blade into his skull, hilt deep. Assassination! Withdrawing the blade, I drew my magnum. *BAM* Double Kill! Another one down.
        My motion sensor was all red. Time to dual wield, same as before. *WAKRASH* My shields flashed red. My vitals started fading. I looked down. A fucking spear went straight through my gut on the right side. Like I needed that kidney, anyway. I looked up and saw the... the airborne ballista?! It was towed by two of these bat pony things.
        Boy, was I loopy. At least it seemed they stopped shooting me. Oh, look, my BR and magnum are in the mud. That's no way how to treat a weapon! Give it some respect! Oh, and there is this spear running through me. Let's use it!
        I raised my right arm and smashed my forearm through the spear's shaft, my other hand holding it steady, so as to not make it worse. Time seemed to slow. Ha, how funny! I reached around back and pulled the rest of the shaft through me. It tickled a little. Now the bat ponies' jaws dropped at seeing this, even the ballista team slowed. Wow, they even had fangs! That's so cool!
        Spinning the busted spear around, I chucked it at the ballista team. Through one and into the other. Double Kill! Now that was a cool voice. A blackness slowly crept into my vision. Ok, sleepy time now.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

        “I highly doubt you sustained such an injury. I also doubt that the sentient life on this planet just so happened to be candy colored horses.”
        “Admiral, do you want me to tell you what happened or not?”
        “I suggest you hear him out, Admiral.”
        “Very well, continue.”



> Ch 3 Turning of the Tides
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

        Close Call! I awoke with a start. My helmet was gone. Shields looked steady, but I couldn't tell. Weapons... gone. Ammo, same. Thruster Pack, A-OK, for some reason. I looked around.
        The room I was in had white marble floors, with empty walls. Even the ceiling was blank. Is this a clean room? “Hello?” I called out... Nothing. I was by my lonesome in this too-tiny room. My head almost scraped the ceiling when I stood upright. Hold it... low ceiling, coming out of unconsciousness, strange new world... Dammit, now I was their prisoner. At least I managed to piece this together quickly.
        Wait... what about that ballista? It should've left a nasty mark. I checked, but it looked like my armor had resealed over the wound. I pushed around the area. No pain, not even scar tissue. But I had taken a ballista through the gut, right? The Close Call proves it. So... apparently I hadn't pieced it together as fast as I hoped.
        There was a door to my right, and windows to my front. I woke up in a bed, standard medical, but without any bed sheets. I could either wait for what may very well be my eventual execution, or I could make a run for it. Mjolnir Gen2 had neural interfaces placed all throughout the armor, I could still use some basic systems... like reentry thrusters to soften my fall.
        I started stretching, getting ready for the impending chase, then the door started opening. Run fast, run now! I jumped through the window, the glass shattering under the sheer force of a half-ton weight being thrown at it. It was about a thirty story drop.
        Towards the end of the jump I went from spread eagle to feet first, activating my reentry thrusters. I just need to make it back to Pizza, then get off-world. Maybe the local moon? We could continue our mission while avoiding contact...
        Where was I? This was a sprawling city with elegant housing. It just didn't seem like I was near the forest at all. In fact, there was a cliff face just over there! Okay, I was not where I once was... New objective: get a map!
        “Hey, stop right there!” More goldies, better run. Was that a horn on one of them? Probably just my eyes tricking me, I did just take a ballista through the gut.
        I ran down the road, then turned left. I had no idea where I was! Maybe I could take it into the vertical? I went left down the nearest alleyway. I jumped right, then pushed off to the left side. Thruster Pack to the right, then back left on to roof of a very low building (compared to the others in this city).
        “There he is, get him!”
        Shit, another guard? They were everywhere! I doubled back along my original trail via the rooftops. Then there was a bright, golden flash and everything went black.

        I awoke in what seemed to be a medieval dungeon, just this time I was bound by several ropes. I could hardly move. Maybe I could burn through them? A burst from my Thruster Pack and a few ropes were severed, but not enough. Still couldn't move.
        “Quite the tenacious one aren't you?” A regal-sounding, feminine voice came from behind me. I rolled over.
        Oh, there are the iron bars! I thought I had just the wall. Beyond the bars, though was a very tall, white horse. This one had the wings of an eagle and the horn of a narwhal. She was also clad in gold regalia, complete with tiara. It also looked like she had a sun tattooed on her butt. Heh, ass-tat.
        I decided to respond to her previous quip, “Well, when you’re running for your life, it's awfully easy to be convinced to do things. So, let's jump to the chase, when are you executing me? Because my schedule is packed. How does Friday at 2100 sound?”
        She looked taken aback, “We would never execute a prisoner! What made you think so?”
        “Well, Captain Cupcake had already ordered a Corporal to hunt me down. Frankly, I don't blame him. I would've done the same. So, if you’re not going to kill me, then what do you want me to tell you?”
        “This isn't an interrogation...”
        “Joe. I am Lieutenant Joe of the UNSC”
        “...Joe, I'm just making sure you're alright. My sister will be here shortly, and then we can start waxing political. But, what's the UNSC?”
        “Okay, so you’re not Covenant nor 'Mdama's lackeys. The United Nations Space Command has existed for hundreds of years. It was formed to unify Earth's governments in order to make space colonization viable. We recently got into this little scuffle with the Covenant, and now we made nice with them. Except, 'Mdama's fleet is still not being too kind to UNSC personnel.”
        “The United Nations?”
        “...Space Command, yes.”
        “Your people must be very devout to unify so many so quickly.”
        “Not quite, it took a long time before the UN finally became the only government on Earth, and even then, insurrection broke out a few decades ago.”
        “What's Earth? I heard you mention it earlier.”
        “Earth is humanity's birthplace amongst the stars. It is where our species was formed and grew up.”
        “You're from another planet?”
        “Yes, I was born on Harvest, an agricultural world, in 2520. At the age of 5 I saw my home turned to glass, along with my parents.”
        “That's terrible! What could've done something like that?”
        “The Covenant, who else?”
        “Is this that 'little scuffle' you mentioned earlier?”
        “Just the overture of it. It was the Human-Covenant War. Lasted 27 years, 25 billion men, women and children dead. Not quite a 'little scuffle', huh?”
        Her jaw dropped open. Wow, her teeth were sparkly clean! I haven't even seen dentists with whiter teeth! “twenty-five...” she barely muttered.
        “...Billion. I fought in the war, seen the kind of atrocities the Covenant committed. We lost almost half the human population in the war.”
        “How could you survive!?”
        “Day by day, bullet by bullet. War ain't a pretty thing, but valor is. That's what kept us going: the heroes.”
        “True, but how did you end up here?”
        “That's classified. How do you know what war is like? You seemed shocked about the casualties, and even surprised when I said I fought in the Human-Covenant War.”
        “Hmm... It's been a thousand years since Equestria has been at war. We've only known peace thus far. I remember it like it was yesterday...”
        “Wait... a thousand year ago, and you were there?”
        “Of course, neither me nor my sister are affected by aging.”
        “And I'm sitting here thinking that a man's lucky to hit a hundred.”
        “100? Normally a pony's lucky to hit fifty.”
        “Well, we are different species. The Galapagos Turtle has been known to hit 300. Though nowadays, they live mostly in wildlife sanctuaries.”
        “Guess our world's are pretty similar. Here, the Gallopagos Tortoise can reach 300 years of age as well.”
        “Gallopagos? Just sounds like you've put 'Gallop' into Galapagos. Anyways, back to why you're here. These ropes are starting to cut off blood circulation throughout my arms and legs. If that happens, clots will form, which have the potential to be fatal. Can you help me out?”
        “Sure. You seem well versed in medical practice, where did you study?”
        “Epsilon Eridani, Reach, before it was glassed. It was part of my training. I got sent to Miridem afterwards.”
        “I take it those are other stars and planets?”
        “Yes, and thanks for freeing me up. Where did you learn about astronomy? This land, no offense, is about 2000 years behind my people's technology.”
        “2000 years primitive? Wow, you must know enough to make our scholars look like idiots. I actually learned about constellations and the sort from my sister.”
        “Guess she must be star struck.” The door to the far left of the dungeon opened. In walked a lovely looking mare with a dusky blue coat. Her regalia was black, unlike the tall white one's gold. This mare was much shorter than the other, but still taller than most other ponies I've met.
        “That I am,” she spoke.
        “And you are...?”
        “I am Princess Luna, and you?” Judging by her regalia and that she was talking to me, an extraterrestrial, I would have to buy that. Apparently they did take me to their leader.
        “I am Lieutenant Joe, of the United Nations Space Command,” I turned back to the alabaster mare, “and by the way, I never caught your name.”
        “I am Princess Celestia.”
        “So, what kind of TLC am I going to face: Torture, Liquidation, or Cover-up?”
        Luna spoke, “Well, that depends. You are going to tell me everything I ask of you.”
        “Sure, I'm game,” I said with a shrug. Perhaps I could use reverse interrogation to find out what she's nervous about...
        “Where are you from?”
        “Awfully vague. Do you want to know where I was born, where my home is, or where I was immediately before being on this planet?”
        “Luna, he was...” Luna blew off her sister. I've seen that kind of interaction before, between myself and my brother. It would be unacceptable for one princess to blow off the princess of another nation. I guess they were in fact sisters... and they weren't working politics here.
        “Yes... to all of them,” she said.
        “Alright, let's see. I was born on Harvest in the Epsilon Indi star system, I have a cozy little house on Luna (housing there is expensive!), and before I came to this planet I was aboard the UNSC Infinity.”
        “You best not be playing games with me.” She seemed pissed.
        Celestia stepped in, “I believe he is telling the truth, Luna. He already told me about Harvest.”
        “I doubt that he actually has a 'cozy little home' on me, Celestia.”
        “Oh, my bad,” I stepped in, Luna glared daggers at me, “Luna is the name of Earth's only moon. We reverted to the Latin names for Earth's sun and moon when we started colonizing other worlds.”
        “And let me guess, your sun is called 'Celestia'?”
        “Nope: Sol.”
        “So you're here to colonize, then. Take over our world and force us into slavery?”
        “No, I'm not here to do that!”
        “Then what are you here for?”
        “I... I can't tell you. That information, I'm pretty sure, is classified.”
        “Convenient. The one thing that could clear your name is covered in black ink.”
        “All I can say is it has to do with Jul 'Mdama, alright?”
        “And who is this 'Jul 'Mdama'?” Okay, I could safely guess she was focused on the defense and safety of her subjects. And I was a threat being assessed. Best poker game ever!
        Celestia stepped in, “'Mdama, correct me if I'm wrong, is still hunting down his people. He is here most likely because it was a great hiding spot?” she looked at me for corrections.
        “Not exactly. The Infinity is hunting 'Mdama's fleet. We're done running and hiding. And I'm not hear to invade, just to keep my ear to the ground. Plus this place is terrible for hiding, it's teeming with life. Very few planets are actually like that, and those that are are great at sustaining long-term patrols.”
        “If you're not here to invade, then why did you attack our soldiers?” Luna's voice was as cold and level as the arctic tundra.
        “They attacked me. If you confiscated my stuff then you'd find a note, an order, from Captain Cupcake. He order my execution, but the tracker he sent failed to kill me. Later, (and you can talk to Keen Eye about this) I wanted to meet the Captain to talk about such an order. He drew a knife on me.”
        “So you mean to say that our soldiers, Equestria's finest, attacked an innocent without provocation?”
        “Yes.”
        “I sincerely doubt that.”
        “On my helmet is some audio logs. I was taking them for a secondary science mission on this world. They also contain similar information that will confirm my story.”
        “And what do these 'audio logs' look like?”
        “They are virtual audio files; they don't have a physical form, but are stored as data packets. If you give me my helmet, I'll be able to play them back for you.”
        “Fair enough, but just a reminder: the guards aren't going to stun you next time.” My helmet somehow levitated over to me. It was wrapped in a blue aura, as was Luna's horn. What was this? Magic?
        “What was that? The weird glow-y float-y thing?” I grabbed my helmet and donned it.
        “What? You mean magic?” Celestia spoke. Dammit, I hate it when I'm right!
        “Where I'm from, magic exists only in fictional childrens' tales. It isn't actually real, is it?”
        “Why yes, of course it is! The fifth fundamental force; magic, electromagnetism...”
        “... the gravitational force, and the strong and weak nuclear forces, yes. But in all of human history, no one has ever actually been capable of magic! And there are only four fundamental forces!”
        Luna stepped in, “No, there are the five. I find it odd that your species has never had magic...”
        “And their technology is 2000 years more advanced than ours,” Celestia noted.
        “What?”
        “I guess necessity is the mother of invention,” I began, “Oh! And this would make a great case study, seeing how different cultures evolve based on exposure to the ability of magic and the lack thereof!” My mind started running wild with the limitations of magic. That's how it works, I find something new and I try to break it, huh?
        “Regardless, let's hear these audio logs,” Luna seemed to relax a little, maybe do to my studious intent of mind back there. I hit “play all”.

        Once the last one finished, I checked my armor's medical suite. It reported back all green. I guess they healed my injuries. “Celestia, Luna, if it's at all possible, I really need to get back to my LZ. I wasn't alone coming here, and my friend is probably on high alert.”
        “Your friend?” They responded in tandem. Cuteness factor: 8.3.
        “Yes. It was his watch when I left the perimeter and those bat-ponies-”
        “Thestrals,” Luna corrected.
        “...Thestrals attacked me. How long has it been since I was captured?”
        Celestia cut in, “Roughly eight hours. You were captured around midnight.”
        “Uh oh. I just missed my entire watch. I've got to get back now!”
        Celestia and Luna turned to face one another. In that moment they conveyed an entire conversation in the way only siblings can. Luna looked defeated, and with a huff said, “Fine, you're free to go. But I want you back here as soon as you're available.” The door unlocked. I bolted out of there.

        It took several hours of running to get to the Whitetail. Good thing I payed attention when my brother talked to me about his running career. I found the manticore roadway, then the Pelican's IFF tag popped up. Bingo.
        I neared the perimeter, then the fifty barked to life. *BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM*
        “Flash! Flash!” I radioed out.
        “Shit. Thunder! Joe, is that you?”
        “Hold your fire, Pizza, I'm back.”
        I got up and walked over to my fellow Spartan. “Jesus, I thought you bit the big one when you didn't show up. I wanted to go out looking, but I couldn't leave the LZ for fear of compromising it. What happened? And where is your kit?”
        “Long story. TL;DR version: the locals are at least neutral again.”
        “Sounds good, so I can just leave the LZ now?”
        “Yep, their military has this forest locked down, civvies aren't gonna be passing through any time soon.”
        “What about military patrols?”
        “I'm still working on that, but we should be fine for now.”
        “Alright, so what now?”
        “Well, for now we need to excavate the Warthog, so fetch a spade. Then, we'll head over so I can introduce you to the princesses.”
        “Princesses? What are you talking about?”
        “Again, long story. I'll tell you what I can en route. They have my kit, you know.”
        “Aww, now that's just great. I take it you want to bring the Warthog's mobile fifty to bear?”
        “No, I want the 'Hog because it's a three hour run.”
        “Well, let's get digging then!”
        With the combined efforts of two UNSC Spartans, it still took a good fifteen minutes before the Warthog was free and mobile once again. The trip back to the princesses didn't take much longer thanks to my lead foot. Driving up the mountain was kinda fun though. Of course, we caught a lot of attention en route from passersby.
        Pizza was still covered in manticore brains. Apparently it dried before the rainfall. We found our way to the castle grounds, and when I hopped out of the Warthog, Pizza tossed me his magnum. “Thanks,” I said, racking the slide. Not the Mighty Magnum, but close. I kept it holstered and advised Pizza to do the same.
        In the main hall, we found the princesses waiting at their thrones, aside from that, it was barren. Celestia spoke, “Wow, that was fast. I thought the Whitetail was a three day walk away.”
        “Oh it is, but I just got my ride to speed things up.”
        Now she looked curious, “Your ride?”
        “The M12 Light Reconnaissance Vehicle, or 'Warthog'. Tough, reliable, and fast, it will get you to where you’re going even if it's through a nuclear wasteland.”
        “And I take it this is your friend?”
        Pizza stepped forward, “Yes. I am Ensign Andrew of the UNSC. You can call me Pizza, as everyone else does.”
        “Why are you called 'Pizza'?” Celestia asked.
        “No one knows,” Pizza and I responded in sync.
        A guard ran into the hall. It looked like he had urgent news, seeing as he blew past all of Crimson. “Miladies, something has happened.”
        “What is it?” asked Celestia.
        “The Caesar is refusing to have our forces settle the hostage situation. Even though it is pirates doing so, the Zebras still claim that any intervention would be less than desirable.”
        “We need to get those hostages to safety!” Celestia seemed to be distressed at this.
        Luna, on the other hand (or would it be hoof?), seemed to be planning something, “It is possible, sister, that we could send in the Wonderbolts. In this situation it may be easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.”
        “Luna, I don't want to do anything that may strain this already delicate political situation. The Caesar is the Zebra's leader, but we can't just leave those hostages to themselves. Any intervention would be wrong; it is their waters.”
        I stepped in, “If you don't want to send Equestrian armed forces after the hostages... then send us. It has been a while since we've been on a good hostage rescue.”
        “We couldn't ask that of you. Even doing so may anger their Caesar.”
        “Like I care about what he thinks. There are lives on the line, and I specialize in saving lives. Just tell me where to go.”
        “Joe, we can't-” Celestia got cut off.
        “They're on a small island near the Zebra coast. It is set up like a fortress, and it is a pirate holding them hostage,” Luna quickly said.
        “Luna-”
        “He's right. We can't be focused on sunshine and rainbows when lives are at stake,” the guard cut in. I'm starting to like Luna.
        “Well, what's the decision? Are we gonna do the rescue or not?” Pizza was itching for action.
        All were silent for far too long. “Yes,” Celestia finally spoke, “do it.”
        “There is a shipyard to the West, around the mountain. Head over there, and talk to Admiral Nautical. He will get you underway.”
        “Thank you, but first I think it best to refit for the operation. We'll attack at dawn, when senses are the most dulled for the unaware.”
        “Clever thinking,” Luna commented.
        “Wouldn't have made lieutenant without it.”
        Pizza and I hopped back in the 'Hog. I turned it around and made a beeline back to the Whitetail LZ. It was 1700 hours, so we had some sand left in the glass.

        Pizza and I equipped ourselves similarly. He grabbed a Jet Pack, DMR, Pulse Grenades, and a Sticky Detonator, “For breaching,” he said. He also tuned his armor with Dexterity, and Resistor, allowing for lightning fast weapon handling and fleet feet when the kitchen gets too heated.
        Me, I ran with Promethean Vision, a Lightrifle, C-12 Satchel Charges, and a Shotgun. I tuned my armor with AA Efficiency and Sensor, to better locate the hostages. Overall, both our setups were meant to maintain effectiveness while minimizing collateral damage.
        It looked like we were set, so we double checked the auto-turret and sealed up the Pelican. We had a long road ahead of us.

        We eventually found Admiral Nautical. He was definitely a well-traveled man. I walked up to him in the shipyard, “Admiral, I'm Joe. I heard there's a little hostage situation with a pirate. I'd like to resolve it.”
        “You and the rest of Equestria. Caesar keeps saying there can't be Equestrian military intervention there, Celestia made that clear,” he never turned around, keeping a keen eye on the cargo moving about.
        “I talked with her about it, and turns out we're not Equestrian military. We'll need a ship to take us to and from, that's all you'll have to do. Me and Pizza? We've gotta do all the hard labor.”
        “I still can't take you, Celestia's orders. Nopony is to interfere.”
        Luna walked up to us, out of the shadows, “Good thing they're not ponies.”
        Nautical almost fell over. “Luna?! Milady, what brings you here?”
        “I'm just here to see these two off... or has there been a change of plans?” Her eyes narrowed, voice dropping pitch ever so slightly, hinting at a threat. Man, was she good! ONI would love her.
        “Uh, No! No, milady, none at all! We'll set sail immediately!” He quickly started trotting over to one of the wooden airships.
        Huh... I never thought about why they had a shipyard at 2000 feet and no nearby body of water... I guess they just use these airships for at least some naval work. The balloon the ship was suspended from looked far too small to lift the craft, but it did. Probably filled with Hydrogen, as dangerous as that may be. Wood... Hydrogen... No water... Wow, fire hazard much?
        I nodded to Luna as Pizza boarded the ship after me. Once we got some distance from Canterlot's shipyard, I sought the Admiral. He was at the helm. “How far to the objective?”
        “Not too long, maybe 5 hours, tops.”
        “Do you know how he's equipped? His ship, crew, psyche..?”
        “Not at all.”
        “Good thing we're Spartans, then. Trained to adapt faster than anything else. How about the island, and the altitude we'll be deploying from?”
        “The island has craggy rocks all around it, only one safe dock. I've been there before things got so politically tense.”
        “Every officer a politician... But what about the altitude we'll be jumping from?”
        “True... wait, what? You're gonna jump?!”
        “Yessir. I was thinking that if the keel of this ship is hidden in the cloud cover, if it is available, the Zebras won't know what hit 'em. Aerial insertion is standard protocol for a small team to overrun a larger one.”
        “Well then, the best of luck to ya.”
        “We make our own luck.”
        “Anywho, I think it would be dandy to not be seen during this operation. Oh, and the pirate's vessel is seaborn, in case if you were wondering.”
        “Thank you, Admiral. I'll go inform my teammate about this. I'll check back in four hours, just before the drop. Oh, and if anyone asks, you were lost in the cloud cover. If they ask why, just say it never occurred to you to go over or under it. And for the record: we're stowaways. That way, Equestria's hands are clean.”
        “Now that's just plain devious of you.”
        “Admiral, it's best this-”
        “I like it. Kick that pirate bastard's ass for me, will ya?”
        I grinned, “Hell yeah, sir.”

        Below deck, I found Pizza. “We drop in five hours. How are you feeling about this op?”
        “I don't know what to feel. We're here to keep our eyes peeled for 'Mdama's fleet, not rescue tiny candy colored horses from their stripped, scurvy-ridden counterparts. I liked it better when the only rule was 'If it's purple, make it red'.”
        “Pizza, we're both glad that the Covie War is over. At least this way, we'll be doing something genuinely good: saving the innocent from the outlaws.”
        “Guess it's the Wild West, huh?”
        “Well, I left my Winchester Repeater on Reach, so...”
        “Heh, no-win scenario?”
        “Pretty much. 'Mdama might pop in and skedaddle while we're out here, but if we stay at the Pelican, the hostages are gonna rot. Who said it was ever gonna be easy?”
        “...The recruiter?”
        “Ha, no. Those guys always glorify things. It's their job to.”
        “Why don't we just split up? Then we can monitor the space while rescuing hostages.”
        “Always have a plan B, Pizza. If I went down there to save the hostages and something went wrong, the only help would be five hours away.”
        “We've lasted longer than that in a fight.”
        “Well, we don't have Palmer to order Dalton around to drop us four Mantises so we can fight off some Covie air support, now do we?”
        “True, but at least we don't have to deal with Roland.”
        “True that. He withheld information so frequently, it almost got us killed more often than not. I wish he'd just say what needed to be said and let it be done.”
        “Yeah, like with that data Miller was trying to decipher actually being teleportation coordinates.”
        “Exactly! If he were to say that outright, we might have caught 'Mdama earlier. Now we're here just because Roland messes around too much.”
        “Yeah, but maybe his incompetence is a good thing, though. I mean, we're here, right now, about to save some lives we otherwise couldn't.”
        “True, but maybe that's just how the universe works? Maybe we would've wound up here anyways, we were given a science objective here, too.”
        “Hmm... you might have a point there. I guess Roland really is worthless, after all.”
        “Hit the nail right on the head there, pal. Rest up for a bit, we need to be ready to finish this fight once it starts.” I left Pizza sitting below deck as I went topside to find a place to sit down. I set my alarm for the drop.

        Time passed, and after chatting with Nautical, Pizza and I were geared up and topside. We chambered rounds for all our weapons. I primed a C-12 Satchel Charge. He test fired his Jet Pack. We were set. “It's gonna be a hot time in the old town tonight!” I yelled out as we jumped over the edge.
        We fell out of the clouds, both of us spread eagle. I saw the fortress on the island, and the ship was docked. I aimed myself at the ship, then went into a bullet dive. Pizza stayed spread eagle to provide top cover.
        I rocketed groundside. Just prior to impact, maybe within 25 feet or so, I reversed and activated my reentry thrusters. I turned on Promethean Vision; reds all around. *BAP* *BAP* *BAP*
        Three reds dropped as Pizza's DMR barked with the voice of death. I continued to look around the ship. No civvies. I radioed, “Ship is clear, let's rendezvous in the courtyard, continue the search from there.”
        “Roger.”
        I saw the red-clad Spartan glide down within the fortress, Jet Pack on full burn. I made my run, Lightrifle at the ready. Zebra 12 o'clock. Can't shoot, don't know if he's a pirate or not.
        *Twang* His arrow glanced of my shield, barely taking it down a sliver. I scoped and fired. *POW* Off with his head! Invincible! Woo! Kill number 30.
        Distant gunfire marked Pizza being right at work. I made my way to the top of the stairs. Seeing the range of Pizza's IFF, it looked like this wall was all that was between him and I. Promethean Vision showed no hostages beyond it... but two reds are! I planted a C-12 Satchel Charge. “Clear!” I radioed. Touch off.
        *Wablam* Double Kill! The wall was vaporized. I ran through. Mass of hostile contacts at 7, 8, 11, 12, 2, and 3 o'clock. “I got left, you get right,” I ordered Pizza.
        *POW* Triple Kill!
        *BAP*
        *POW* Overkill!
        *BAP*
        *POW* Killtacular! Inconceivable!
        *BAP*
        “Clear!”
        “Clear!” Now, where were the hostages? Promethean Vision showed eight Greens 50 yards to the Southeast. Bingo. I love this thing.
        “On me!” I radioed to Pizza. There was a metal door surrounded by masonry. I switched to my shotgun. “Pizza, breach!”
        *Womp* A little red light appeared on the door. *Wablam!* Now the door was gone. I ran in.
        I swept right to left. No hostiles, just civvies. “Clear!” Pizza walked in to join me. “Hostages secured. Mission complete.” I looked at the souls we saved. They were scared, malnourished, and several seemed to have suffered injuries. I spoke to them, “My name is Joe, we're here to rescue. Are there any others?”
        A little filly no more than maybe six years old with the kind of face you just couldn't say “no” to walked up to me, “I think the mean men took the rest of us to their boat. Are they gonna be pirates, too?”
        Shit. Promethean Vision doesn't mark the dead. The ship was clear. “Um, I'm not sure, but I'll tell you what, you can have all the ice cream you can eat if you be very nice and follow my friend, Pizza here, out of this place. Okay?” Her eyes lit up, bingo. Best to change the topic when it comes to that kind of bad news. Especially to one so young.
        Pizza walked up, “Alright, women and children first. Men stay in the back. Evac should arrive shortly.” The little filly still had that sparkle in her eyes as she followed Pizza around. She was right at his ankles. Ice cream is serious business, after all.
        Pizza walked us outside. The sun was on the rise, and for the first time in far too long, several of these hostages felt sunlight. The last time I felt actual sunlight across my body was before I was a Spartan. Damn, was it really that long ago?
        Hold it... Something's flickering in the sun. Several somethings. And they're moving fast. “Fast movers, incoming!” I yelled out. Pizza quickly shuffled the ponies back inside. Too late. The contacts engaged at high speed.
        *Twang* The first shaft hit. It didn't hit Pizza. It didn't hit me. It didn't hit the hostages, save for one. The one I promised ice cream to. She was now missing her left eye. Dammit, Mjolnir could've taken the hit, but not her. Pizza could've taken the hit, but not her! I ran out into the open.
        “You want it, come get it!” I yelled to the heavens.
        “Joe, get down!” Pizza yelled at me.
        I yelled back, “Get them to safety, I'll draw their fire!”
        *Twang* Another bolt, striking me this time, thank God. Shields: 7/8 capacity. I switched back to the Lightrifle, scoped in, and fired. Time seemed to slow. *POW*
        *Twang* Shields: ¾ capacity. *POW* Double Kill! Shut up announcer guy, now is not the time! Another popped up, getting in very close. I tossed a Satchel at him.
        *Wablam* Triple Kill! I was too close to the C-12. Shields were gone. Chunks of viscera in a red mist were all that was left of him. And a blue and gold uniform, fluttering to the ground in tattered pieces. Out of Satchels. The red mist turned my blue armor purple. There were still more.
        *POW* Overkill!        *POW* Killtacular!        Unfrigginbelievable! *POW* Killtrocity!
        They seemed to hesitate now, not that I cared.
        *POW* Killimanjaro! *POW* Killtastrophe! *POW* Killpocalypse!
        This one managed to close the distance. Before I could take his head off, he bucked the Lightrifle out of my hands. I grabbed my knife.
        Assassination! Killionaire!
        Through the chaos that was almost exclusively me, I heard a woman's voice call out, “Break attack, it's a Lunar Guard!” I haven't heard this voice before, but the arrows stopped raining.
        Another flier in the blue and gold uniform that I saw earlier touched down 15 yards to my front. I was still holding the severed head of one of the men wore uniform. She looked shocked. What, haven't you seen war before? No? Okay.
        I took weighted strides toward her, “What the HELL was that about?!” She came up to my gut, so I used my height for intimidation.
        She still looked shocked, maybe because I was holding her dead comrade's head in one hand and the bloody knife that did the deed in the other. “Are you deaf?!” I yelled at her again.
        “I'm... I'm sorry, we didn't know Luna had already sent forces. We... we went against orders, trying to save the hostages...”
        “Name and rank, soldier. I want the name of the one responsible for killing a hostage.”
        “Killing... a hostage?”
        “Yes, soldier. Now, name and rank!”
        “Spitfire... Captain.”
        “Good, now get the Hell out of here and start licking your wounds, I've got a filly to bury.”
        She still seemed shocked that her team killed a hostage, but she took off.
        “Pizza, it's safe. Bring them out.” I needed to cool down. I tossed the head off to the side.
        Pizza poked his head out from around the exploded doorway, “Shit, Joe, is 'bad guy' in this season, or is that just something you threw together?” I checked myself over. Yup. Covered head to toe in viscera blood, and... yep, that's half a spleen. Ooh! And a kidney!
        “Fetch a spade, Pizza. We gotta bury this filly.” Too bad we didn't have any E-tools with us, we left those back at the Pelican.
        “...Or the alternative....” He held up his Pulse Grenade.
        “Toss it and let's get outta here.” *Whoowmpang* I watched the filly turn to ash, scattering in the morning breeze. The Admiral arrived.

        Nautical seemed to be pondering something. I walked over to join him. “Something on your mind?”
        “Oh, nothing. Just, that pirate ship is the Stormbreaker. It was previously a royal warship before we were re-equipped with airborne counterparts. I had her under my command before she was decommissioned. I'm just wondering how that pirate got her, is all.”
        “Huh, guess somethings are purely coincidental. Say, what's this ship's name?”
        “This old girl, she's the Benevolent Exchange. I've had her for seven years now, and she is a dream to pilot.”
        “I'll take your word for it. I crashed my first dozen times in the flight sims. Eventually I got certified, though. Every failure was blamed on me pushing the craft too far. I say I was seeing what she could do, beyond just what the instruction book said. The only pilot I've seen who could best me in the air was Lieutenant Murphy, but he's still on the Infinity.”
        “The Infinity?”
        “Ah, the UNSC Infinity, a warship the size of a city. Five and a half kilometers, stem to stern. A thousand meters tall, and eight hundred wide. She's now the pride of the UNSC, and I got to serve on her. Hell, Pizza and I even saved the ship. Twice, counting the nukes.”
        “Wow! That sounds like quite a ship. I'm starting to get a bit jealous now.”
        “Yeah, that's one reason why I became a Spartan. She is quite a sight to see.”
        “I believe ya. But... How does she dock?”
        “She doesn't. She's so big she carries 10 Strident-class heavy frigates in her hull. She also has more Pelicans than I can even count, so the need of docking is handled by the other ships instead.”
        “Okay, I'm completely jealous now. Can I sign up for that 'Spartan' thing?”
        “Sorry, humans only.”
        “Damn. Worth a shot, huh?”
        “Hell yeah. I'll go down and check on Pizza and the hostages we rescued.”
        I left Admiral Nautical at the helm. Below deck I found Pizza lying down again. “What's up?” I asked.
        “I'm not too keen on being in the air on a boat. Give me a Jet Pack or even zero gravity.”
        “Can you even get seasick in the air?”
        “Even happens on Pelicans, but those flights don't last long. This here is a form of torture.”
        “Don't worry about it, Pizza. I'm sure you'll get used to it soon.”
        “That's what the Sergeant said ten years ago.”
        “Well, at least it ain't permanent.”
        “God bless. At least the hostages don't seem as perturbed by this as I am. In fact, they seem to be A-OK.”
        “Well, that's a start. I've still got to report on what happened back there. Captain Spitfire disobeyed orders and engaged friendlies, killing a hostage. There is no way that can sound like a good thing.”
        “Yeah. Must suck for her, then?”
        “She just had the same audacity that we have. Only we went through the proper channels, she didn't. The pirates didn't seem to have technology that's too different from Equestria's.”
        “Well, you should see their CQC. If it wasn't for Mjolnir, I'd be dead.”
        “Is it really that nasty up close?”
        “Yes. Don't question it: it's best to take them down at range. I lost my shield in ten seconds flat in that kind of combat. It seemed they weren't expecting the resistance nor the weight of Mjolnir, though. A lot of their attacks try to exploit one's center of mass. Another thing: they didn't seem at all surprised to see us. Were they expecting us?”
        “I saw the same look on their faces too, and I don't think they knew about us specifically. I'd say they adapted quickly in the fight, I've seen other Spartans with similar looks.”
        “I guess you’re right, but that's even worse.”
        “I know. They already have the adaptability of a Spartan, and the strength to boot. With Equestria having equivalent technology, a war between the two will not end well. No wonder Celestia was so concerned about making a scene. I'll bring that up with her, see if we can help out Equestria's tech. Maybe the threat of mutually assured destruction will stave off a war with the Zebras.”
        “Well, it's worked before, but those were not good times. Humanity was on the razor's edge of killing itself then. A single mistake and the Earth would've been an ashen wasteland.”
        “Oh, but there were mistakes, on both sides.”
        “Every time they happened though, the one with the trigger was too kind-hearted to pull it.”
        “And that's how we'll make it work. How quickly do you think Equestria can industrialize? On a scale of America to Japan.”
        “With their leadership, I mean you've seen Luna's use of façades, I would say it would be at, if not beyond, Japan. Lightning fast industrializing. Endgame in two turns.”
        “Let's hope things go over smoothly.”

        We arrived back at the shipyard. The rescued were shuffled into an awaiting medical ward. I walked up to the princesses as they oversaw the rescued ponies return. “We need to talk about a certain Captain Spitfire,” I said.
        “What happened to your armor? It's purple. And what does Spitfire have to do with this?”
        “Her forces went and tried to rescue the hostages. The only problem is that we were already there, and were shuffling them to safety. They mistook us for the pirates and engaged, killing a hostage, a young filly, in the exchange. Without having a way to parlay, and knowing only their hostilities, I fought back. I got ten confirmed kills on them.”
        “Ten?! But... The Wonderbolts are still in their barracks! How could they have been over there?”
        “Spitfire said they wanted to do some good, and that they didn't want to sit around while others were dying and in squalor. For their presence there, it can be confirmed via ten empty beds here, or by the bits of a Wonderbolt I'm covered in. That's kinda what happened to my armor.”
        Celestia looked taken aback, Luna kept her cool. Damn, she's good! “I'll get their side of the story and see to their just punishment,” Luna said.
        “One more thing... She said that I was a Lunar guard. I know I'm not, but I'd like to know how she got me confused with one.”
        “It is because your armor is purple. The thestrals under my command all were a purple variant of the Royal Guard armor. It is practically their signature, aside from the bat wings.”
        “Alright. And I was also hoping that we could start talking about providing a technological boost to Equestria. It should help with any kind of political tensions with the Zebras.”
        Celestia spoke up, “That would be wonderful, but I think it's best to give it some time. We just lost ten Wonderbolts today.”
        “For what it's worth, I had no idea they were friendlies. They shot first, I shot back.”
        Luna stepped up, “You do realize this is not the first time you have shed Equestrian blood?” It sounded like it was a threat. It could have also been a ploy to get me into a corner. Or was it rhetorical?
        “Every time, I defended myself and others. Cupcake drew and charged first. The thestrals in the Whitetail fired first. Even the pirates shot first, so when the Wonderbolts did the same? I acted the same Though I am taking to regretting those action, any alternative would have been more remorseful.”
        That seemed to cool her coals. Celestia spoke, “Then I take it you would like to know the who's who of Equestria, and beyond, before any more skirmishes?”
        “I would really like some intel with my intel. It would be very much appreciated.”
        “Go clean yourself up and then we can get to discussing these things with you.”
        “I'll get to it.” I walked away, linking up with Pizza. It seemed no one touched our Warthog since we left it here. Good. I drove.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

“And this was your first contact with ‘The Zebra Menace’?”
“Affirmative, though I only knew them as pirates at the time, sir.”
“So you proceeded to provide Equestria with some classified technologies of the UNSC?”
“Negative, Admiral. I only showed them what science is capable of in order to try and inspire their creative mindsets. It was merely a mental boot in the pants.”
“To what end did you seek for this?”
“Whatever end wouldn’t get everypony killed.”

> Ch 4 Setting the Table
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

        Once we made it back to the Pelican, we refitted back to our initial loadouts and armor tuning. I was glad to have the Mighty Magnum at my side once again. We then cracked open some water canisters and washed the gore off our armor. I swear, with how much gore sticks to Mjolnir, it must be made out of glue or something. Probably how the holsters work, too.
        Checking the perimeter, nothing seemed out of place. Same with the long-range sensors, nothing. Pizza and I loaded up everything into the Pelican. We probably wouldn't be back here for a long time, might as well take everything! Pizza got copilot, I got the hot seat. I sealed the back hatch.
        Ascend to 2500 feet, find target bearing. Commence forward burn. Checking on-ship radar systems. No air traffic to worry about. The trip would only take a couple of minutes. Equestria may like some of the gear we had onboard.
        Only a few minutes passed before we were in front of the castle. I figured I could fly into the main hall, with my piloting expertise.
        Bad move. It was crowded down there, oh so many eyes looking up at this OD Green metal bird. I continued to fly it right up to the princesses. Right in front of their throne, I set it to hover.
        “Pizza, hop out and clear an LZ for me.” He all-too eagerly bailed out of the Pelican. Either it was aerophobia or air sickness. He quickly cleared the area, and I commenced descent. Touchdown. Opening the back hatch.
        I walked out the cluttered back of the Pelican, right in front of the princesses. “Here's the tech we were talking about. Is now a bad time to discuss? We can always wait a little longer.” I liked my blue and white armor a lot more than than purple gore armor from before. Celestia seemed to share this feeling, but Luna was just as unfazed as always. She really is good at handling the horrors of war, isn't she?
        Celestia spoke to the crowd of ponies around the Pelican. “Can all of you kindly step outside a moment, we need to discuss some very serious business privately.”
        As though it was the word of God, the ponies quickly meandered out. They must have a high regard for princess Celestia. I mean, an unusually high regard, even for a princess.
        “Alright. Some of this stuff I haven't the slightest idea of how it functions, but I know how to use all of it.” Using my comm, I disengaged the Mantis.
        Pizza did the tutorial work, “This is the Hrunting/Yggdrasil Mark IX Armor Defense System, or 'Mantis' for short.” I hopped into the driver's seat. All systems online, powering hydraulics.
        The Mantis stood upright, towering over all below, barely having enough clearance under the Pelican's tail. My turn, “This bad boy totes a twenty mike-mike chain gun on the right, and a five-round rocket pod on the left. I can devastate infantry and vehicles alike with ease. Overloading the leg hydraulics can lead to a powerful stomp attack that can cut a Warthog in half.” I hopped out.
        The Warthog was next. I keyed the ignition. Pizza introduced it, “The aforementioned M12 LRV, mounted with an M46 Light Anti-Aircraft Gun, it can turn bad guys into chum at 400 yards.”
        “It is fast, tough, and powerful in the right hands.” We continued to show the princesses everything we brought with us, and they in turn briefed us on pretty much all of Equestria. Finally we were up to speed.

        Dawn was breaking and Celestia had left to “raise the sun”. I still wasn't buying it, but apparently magic is a very key thing here in Equestria. Pizza seemed to take it on in stride, but Luna kept on having to correct him about the limitations of it. Apparently every godsend has a string attached.
        “So...” I began, rubbing my helmet where my temples would be, “Magic IS a thing here? Where we're from, magic doesn't exist, so forgive me if I'm being skeptical here. Exactly how does it work? Could enough know-how circumvent any shortcomings?”
        “Well, you see... Magic is a bit like a muscle; use it more, it gets better and better...”
        “And the right concoction can augment it?”
        “Yes, though long-term such concoctions are undesirable. Additionally, if you push your magical abilities too far, you can suffer from what is known as a 'burnout'. It's somewhat like overloading a muscle, but a burnout completely disables one's magical abilities for a lengthy period of time.”
        “Calling upon my video game knowledge, I'm guessing that there are also spells to prevent spells?”
        “Yes, wards are taught as defensive magic and are standard lessons for security personnel.”
        Pizza spoke up, “How does a unicorn's magic compare in a fight with those that don't have magic?”
        “That... I'm not too sure of. Everypony has some sort of magic in them, just a unicorn's is more... noticeable, more corporeal, than the other forms. Additionally, fighting doesn't really happen all that often in Equestria, and when it does it is always quickly resolved and on a small scale.”
        That caught my attention, “Violence is uncommon in Equestria?”
        “Yes. Ever since my sister took to the throne, all Equestria has known is peace. It's been like that for over 1000 years, ever since Nightmare Moon was first banished to the moon.”
        “I'm still finding it hard to grasp that anyone can live that long. We're lucky if we hit triple digits, but considering us being front line soldiers, probably extremely lucky if we do.”
        “Most in Equestria do not have as prolonged lives as my sister and I. Dragons are just about the only species that are naturally immortal, unless their life is truncated.”
        “Dragons? Can you give me some sort of size reference, because the Komodo Dragons from Earth History were kinda small...”
        “Why don't I show you?”
        “That would be fantastic as well as disconcerting. You have a dragon on the premises? I hope dragons don't have any kind of destructive tendency like the Brutes.”
        “Brutes?”
        “Jiralhanae, also known as Brutes, are primates that stand roughly 8-9 feet tall. They have an appetite for any and all meats, with human flesh ranking number 2 on their most preferred list, just behind the Thorn Beast of their native planet, Doisac. If the Brutes roll into town, its best just to nuke the civilian populace and save them from a fate worse than death.”
        “That sounds... terrible...” there was a long pause, perhaps she was gauging Brute threat levels to Equestria? It's what I would be doing if I were her. “I sincerely hope they do not find Equestria as you have, and I believe you mentioned the term 'nuke' just prior?”
        “Yes, ma'am. 'Nuke' refers to any kind of unconventional explosive device that exploits atomic chain reactions. The first atomic bomb was called 'Gadget', and it had enough power to destroy a small city at 20 Kilotons. Later, another big bad bomb was made, the Tsar Bomba, and it could vaporize a fairly sized island with a yield of 50 Megatons, over two thousand times more powerful than the Gadget. Next in the evolution of A-bombs was the H-bomb. The Ivy Mike bomb was detonated about a decade before the Tsar Bomba, but it used nuclear fusion instead of fission. It had a yield of roughly 10 Megatons. Today's nukes come in a wide variety of destructive sorts. I brought with us a pair of HAVOK nukes, each yielding 30 Megatons. I also packed a single NOVA bomb, something to destroy Jul 'Mdama's fleet if they show up and want to skedaddle before the Infinity arrives. A NOVA bomb can destroy an entire planet. There's one other nuke I wish I had: FURY tactical nukes, about the size of a rugby ball and packing just shy of a megaton of ordinance, it's the closest thing you can get to nuclear hand grenades.”
        “You brought something that can kill an entire planet... onto our planet?!”
        “Don't worry, Luna. I have it set for tandem arming, meaning that both Pizza's and my own suit of Mjolnir armor must provide the det codes. I suppose if I really wanted to I could try to bypass that trigger system... but that doesn't matter, we're saving it for 'Mdama's fleet.”
        “You must really want this 'Mdama character dead, then?”
        “That's an understatement. His fleet has been continuing the Human-Covenant War long after the treaty was signed. The Arbiter wants him dead, staving off any political tensions. Me? I have a score to settle. His forces killed Mormon, and Richard. No Spartan fireteam is considered complete until it reaches four members. They were the other two. Mormon got nailed by an Energy Sword. Completely bifurcated. Richard got his head taken clean off by a Knight Lancer wielding a Binary Rifle. We were in too deep, and had to leave him behind. This was on Requiem, our previous deployment. Now, we're waiting for 'Mdama.”
        Silence persisted. Pizza and myself treading over old but sore wounds. Luna being in a minefield and not wanting to open said wounds. I did just kill ten of Equestria's finest warriors in just as many seconds. Luckily, Celestia walked in just then, snapping me out of that thousand yard stare.
        “I hope everyone's been doing fine in my absence?”
        Cold. Dead. Silence. No eye contact.
        “I take that as a no?”
        Nothingness is what greeted that interrogative. Until I finally spoke, “What's in the past is done. We can only hope that the future bears a better light, even if we must view it from the shadows.”
        Pizza nodded, as did Luna. She seemed to have a slight hint of something in her eye... admiration was it?
        Pizza took the reins, “Ahem. Anyways, I would like to know if there was any place we could stay? Preferably something nice and quiet, but roomy. The jump seats in the Pelican aren't exactly a five-star hotel.”
        Luna spoke up, “Well, if you want to see the treasury dragon, there are the caverns beneath Canterlot. Nopony goes down there at all, but they can only be accessed via the shipping yard. The dragon is en route.”
        Celestia now took her turn, “Or... you could take a luxury suite in one of the upper floors of the castle, it is much closer.”
        My turn in this roulette of chat, “Seeing how early it is, I'd prefer the caverns. I want to keep our presence here as minimal as possible. I would actually really like it if you could keep our very existence a secret. Also, a luxury suite isn't exactly covert.”
        Pizza's turn, “I'll make sure everything is ready for transport, then we can check out that dragon.”

        And check out that dragon we did. She (as I later found out her gender) was massive! Effectively, she grew so large that the caverns of the treasury now served as a prison... or a tomb. Knowing a dragon's aging, probably the former.
        After we were done gawking, Luna guided us to the giant cargo door going into the side of the mountain. I carefully piloted the Pelican inside. The first chamber was a maze of cargo containers of at least a gazillion different varieties. After that, came a sheer drop and a small mine cart rail. I flew down there, through a large alcove. I could probably fit a Longsword down here.
        The chamber I set the Pelican down in was massive, about the size of the main Spartan deck on the Infinity, only... much more crystalline. I opened the back ramp, and Pizza started unloading. I double and triple checked the long range sensors for 'Mdama's fleet. Nothing. Not even in it's history, though it was still registering all of those ultra small contacts near the planet's surface. I guess those were pegasi.
        I walked out the back, unloading the long range sensors. I found Luna and spoke up, “I think this place will do nicely. It'll take some breaking-in, but I can see this being a long-term base, don't you?”
        “And hopefully an embassy in all due time.”
        “Yes, we must keep good relations, you know.”

        An embassy! Now there was an idea! But we don't have any politicians to do anything political with it. Unless... Oh, crap. Every officer a politician. Apparently I'm going from kill-o-tron 5000 to pencil pusher 3 if it does go through. Probably not the best idea... yet. When the ONI eggheads roll back around, hell yeah it's going to be good!
        Oh, wait... what's that? There! Fluttering amongst the shadows. It's... hard to tell in the these dark caverns. Note to self: install lighting first. Hold on... Target confirmed: a Lunar Guardsman. Carrying a messenger tote? Probably more letter-like orders. Wait, he's headed to Luna. Probably not.
        Luna was devastated when she read that letter. Some serious shit had gone down. “What's it say?” I asked as the Lunar Guard flew off.
        “It seems the Caesar of the Zebras has seen fit to declare war on Equestria. Apparently it was a fiasco with the Wonderbolts trespassing for an unauthorized military incursion.”
        “Shit. War is never a good thing. It's always terrible. Always. So... is there anything we can do to help? A surgical strike, or maybe something a bit more subversive?”
        “My sister is the one who wields the crown. It is her decision to make.”
        “I'm not too sure how well Celestia can handle war. You did say your land was at peace for a thousand years. No one out there probably knows what war entails. Honestly, I think that you would perform much better in a theater of war than Celestia.”
        “Alas, the day is young and we are both due for some rest. It isn't likely that the Caesar will strike so soon. Fresh minds are the best minds, so get some rest. I'll see what Celestia will have me do on the morrow.”
        “Ma'am, if your depiction of Zebra culture is accurate, they may already have struck. But still, we should all get some rest. We have a war to win when we get up, after all.”

        And never before was sleep so elusive!

        I spent the afternoon and evening taking inventory, and maintaining that which needed it. All weapons were golden, the Mantis was green across the board. Pelican running smoothly.
        I ran through the inventory twice more as well as maintenance. Pizza was sorting out deployment kits. Two kits each for long range, long duration, and reconnaissance. He kept on rearranging the kits. On the fourth arrangement, Luna returned, this time under escort of half a dozen Lunar Guards.
        “My sister tried for peace talks, but we received word of fire in Hoofington. The city is ablaze, and the Zebras are suspect. It looks like you were right about that. Additionally, several shipping vessels have failed to report in as scheduled. Normally this wouldn't be of much concern, but given the circumstances...”
        “You wouldn't want to leave it to chance. We've been waiting for some action, so I guess I'll take this.”
        “I thought you would, so I've arranged for the HMS Harmony to reconnoiter the waters where the ships are suspected to be. The Harmony is the pride of Equestria's combined fleets, despite it being seaborne. She carries four dual 15 inch gun turrets, seven 4 inch dual mounts, and three 1.6 inch eight-gun mounts, amongst other things. Truly a force to be reckon with.”
        “Maybe by this world's standards. That armament sounds severely lacking by mine, but it might work to secure shipping lines. How many vessels are we trying to find?”
        “A half dozen have failed to report in as of this morning. In light of this, the HMS Princess of Whales will be sailing escort.”
        “Sounds like we'll have enough firepower, but do we have a plan B?”
        “Maybe report back any findings?”
        “No, I mean a plan that completes the mission if all other plans fail. Like, is there a life raft of sorts? Or an RHIB that I could use?”
        “Well, one of our scientists just finished building a prototype rubber boat. He calls it a 'Combat Rubber Raiding Craft', will that suffice?”
        “Milady, that is perfect.”

        With enough intel with my intel, I started getting prepped to go frogman on these vessels or whatever's been stopping them. I packed three C-12 Satchels, an M7S SMG (Silenced SMG), and an M6C/SOCOM (Automag). I tuned my armor with Grenadier and Explosives. I used the Jet Pack armor ability as well, Mjolnir sinks like a stone.
        Pizza ran with his DMR, and Shotty. A Trauma Kit instead of grenades. And he grabbed the Wheelman and Sonar armor tuning. Looks like we're both rocking Jet Packs. Now we should be able to track down anything that's subsurface or airborne. Looks like we're all set.

        Just seeing the Harmony was enough to convince me of its prowess, and the Princess of Whales wasn't too shabby either. We loaded up and climbed on board. We then found the captain, at the helm as they always seem to be. He greeted us as a Captain Cazador, claiming to be an expert at tracking and combat. To me, he still needed to prove his mettle, even if his name meant 'hunter'.

        It wasn't long, only three hours, until we found an oil slick on the water. “Captain, it looks like a ship went under here.”
        “Judging by the debris, it looks like the Easy Money was sank, one of the ships we were supposed to find. I'll change course to the next ship, we're not too far behind whatever did this. It left a wake in the oil, along a vector to the next ship. Full sail!” the last he barked to the crew on deck. Honestly I was still surprised sails and gun turrets worked well on a ship.

        Another oil slick. We were too damn slow again. “Sir, bogey off the port bow! She's not one of ours!” a crewman wailed. I looked up. Nothing... no, there! On the horizon. A small bump that doesn't match the rest of the horizon. Damn that sailor had good eyes! But I have a zoom function. x3 binocular zoom, but only x2 on the smart-linked scopes on my Automag and SMG.
        Sure enough, that bump turned out to be a slightly bigger bump on the horizon... and some flashes were coming off of it. Time to get to cover! I think my binocular's built-in rangefinder measured it out to be fifteen miles. I wish I brought a Sniper Rifle... or a Splazer. “Incoming!” I yelled.
        Moments later, splashes sounded all around the Harmony, and the Princess of Whales open fired. I turned to Captain Cazador, “Chase the columns! Close the distance and give them a shellacking!”
        “This is my ship soldier, she'll do as I command!”
        “Sir, we are under fire and have yet to return fire. I think it best to fight to keep us alive rather than have us get shelled to high Hell and back. So if you're done with this pissing match, we've got lives to save!” I stayed hunkered down, listening to shrapnel whizzing by over my head. I swear I saw a chunk the size of a dinner plate.
        The Captain was about to get up, but when he saw the First Mate get turned into something between Swiss cheese and chum, he froze up. He just curled up in a ball, sobbing and inching towards every little piece of the First Mate he could get his hooves on. The now-useless Captain cried out, “Acosador! Noooooooo!”
        Between his illegible sobbing I heard him mention something about their mom. They must've been brothers, but that means nothing right now. In presence of an emotionally compromised Captain, and a dead First Mate, that leaves me being the next highest of rank, never mind that it was of an entirely different armed forces, I was next in rank, gosh darn it! I took the helm.
        “All hands, battle stations!” I can't believe that order didn't come down until it was by me. “Pizza, get ready with that Zodiac, we might just need it!”
        Enemy bearing 325. Shells incoming, ETA: 5 seconds. Target: Whales. I ordered the mare on the signal flags, to tell them to come to a full halt. Splash off their bow. Another salvo incoming, this time it was for us. Hard right. Miss. Broadside ready. Sent. More shells our way, we lost too much speed. Impact: bow. “Fire control, earn your pay!” I yelled.
        Our salvo missed. I turned back around, acquiring a tailwind. Speed increasing. More shells incoming, fires still raging. Whales was ahead of us, the shells had her name on it. Impact: amidships, main mast fallen. Whales is dead in the water.
        Range closing: now 10 miles. Hostile was still targeting the Whales. Our captain was still debilitated. Another salvo passed overhead to the Whales. Massive secondary explosion: main battery magazine detonated. The Whales was now no more than splinters and driftwood. They sunk my battleship! I returned fire.
        Hit: aft compartments on hostile vessel. They're leaking oil. Personally, I haven't the faintest clue as to why a sailing ship has oil in it. Whatever, they had it and now their leaking it! Incoming!
        Impact: amidships, port side. 2 gun batteries lost. Not good. We were now within extreme close range. It was like a bar fight, slugging each other back and forth. Then, I saw her name: Caesar. Definitely a Zebra warship.
        Fire and maneuver. Close the distance. They're mimicking me, or I them. We can hardly scratch one another, but the Caesar has a better armament. “Pizza, inflate that Zodiac, things are about to get hot!” This was going to be a slaughter.
        We passed each other, our port to their starboard. We were missing two guns on that side, they weren't. Only the heaviest of our shells tore through their hull, everything else bounced off. The opposite was not the case for them.
        Their shells ripped open our entire port side. Almost all of our magazines detonated. We had a 55 degree list. Looks like they sunk another of my battleships. “All hands, abandon ship! We are combat ineffective here!”
        Pizza tossed the CRRC over the railing, following it down. I hopped in shortly thereafter. Two Spartans was pushing the limits on this thing's weight limit, but it stayed afloat. Three minutes passed before the remaining powder aboard caught fire. The HMS Harmony went the way of the Whales. I looked across the water for any survivors, but we couldn't rescue them with this overburdened CRRC.
        My motion sensor wasn't reading any friendlies, nor was Pizza's sonar. The Harmony was lost with all hands. The bastard Caesar was still shelling the water to kill any survivors, survivors like Pizza and I.
        “Pizza, hang on!” We both grabbed onto the boat tightly, then I rolled it over. The Caesar's murder-shelling passed right over us, not seeing the Spartans beneath the waves. Seems my blue armor is paying off, huh?
        We stayed under as longer as Mjolnir would let us, roughly 6 hours before our O2 alarms went off. We rocked the boat back over. All that was left was an oil slick. Not our oil slick, but the Caesar's. Time to hunt them down.
        We kept as low a profile as possible in the boat, but I kept my Silenced SMG pointed forward all the while. Pizza spoke up over the water talisman engine, “Sonar contact on bearing 015, and she's a biggie.”
        “Pursue it, I've got Satchel Charges for 'em.”
        We changed course, giving chase. “A second contact just showed up, a smaller one this time. They're moving in formation.”
        “Stay on course for the first one, we'll deal with the second one if necessary.”
        “Aye, sir.”
        We closed the distance. “Holy crap, Joe. That second contact is the Stormbreaker, that ship from the island fortress! Apparently the Zebras were behind that incident.”
        “Pizza, they seem distracted with something, you got anything?”
        “No, nothing.”
        A Shell splashed about 12 feet in front of us. Not a single one of their guns were aimed at us. Apparently that distraction was another ship. They didn't even see us go right up to their port side and plant a pair of Satchels under the waves, they had to deal with the ship at their starboard.
        “Charges placed. Set course for the Stormbreaker.”
        I waited with the detonator until someone on the Caesar would open fire on us. They never did. Time to touch off anyways. *Wablam*        Enemy hull ruptured, ship disabled. She was listing heavily.
        “Prepare for boarding!” I called out to Pizza. We needed a ride and the Stormbreaker was volunteered. They tried to aim at us with their main battery, but we were too close for their elevation controls. 10 meters out, I lit my Jet Pack, Pizza followed closely behind.
        Touch down aboard the Stormbreaker, hostile crew spotted; all Zebras, in uniforms. I remembered Pizza's warning about their CQC and raised my M7S. Buck was right; it does turn bad guys into chum *Pfft* *Pfft* *Pfft* *Pfft* *Pfft*
        We were somewhere between the stern and amidships, on the port side. The ship the Stormbreaker was engaging was opposite us. I probably should get a view of it.
        I ran across the deck to the starboard side, hostiles were on both my flanks. I dual wielded.
        *Pfft* *Pfft* *Pfft* *Pfft* *Pfft*
        *Bip* *Bop* *Bam* Double kill!
        The armor piercing rounds of the Automag were proving their worth on Zebra skulls. Coast clear, I noticed what the Stormbreaker was shooting at; a pair of shipping vessels, one the Savannah, the other the Aegis Fate. Déjà vu, those were names of some human ships during the war... Back to what's at hand, though.
        “Pizza, head below deck and secure it. I'll capture the topside.”
        “On it.”
        I holstered the Automag and reacquired my grip on the M7S. The left-hip holster was non-standard on Mjolnir, but I find it very useful for right-handed shooting. Both hands on triggers and all that jazz.
        It seemed that the Caesar was plated with steel, but was actually constructed out of oak. This was unique amongst the other native vessels I've seen, so this was probably cutting-edge tech for the Zebras. Too bad it was debris now, but the Stormbreaker seemed to tote several similar aftermarket upgrades that weren't here the last time I was aboard. This made it a bit difficult to recognize.
        Now she had gun turrets, a conning tower, and a fearsome arsenal. It would probably be bad for the Zebras if I were to get her. I was at the door to the bridge .
        Knock knock.
        A Zebra slowly opened the door. *Pfft* *Pfft* *Pfft* *Pfft* *Pfft* I kicked the door inward the rest of the way. There I saw the Captain, a grizzled old buck who looked near the age of mandatory retirement. I took aim.
        “Captain, order all hands to abandon ship, or else they'll make like this poor fellow here,” I nodded my head towards the now-dead Zebra. The Captain just stood there, trying to make out what in the Hell I was... or maybe wagering his odds against me. I hoped for the former.
        Nope. It can NEVER be easy, huh? He lunged, FAST, at me. I dodged to the right, but he quickly adjusted, deflecting my M7S. I took an uppercut to the chin. Shields: half. Ouch! I gave him a boot to the groin, offsetting his balance.
        He skittered backwards on three hooves, keeping a third elevated for striking and blocking. I raised my M7S. He jumped to my left, then off the wall -the WALL!- and this time disarmed me, sending me spinning. Shields: one quarter full.
        I finished the spin he set me on with a roundhouse kick. He ducked and launched another uppercut into my groin. Good thing I still had some shielding and a cosmic space diaper for protection. My shields gave way, the tell-tale golden static denoting my vulnerability. I gave him a left hook.
        Blood went flying, but he came back swinging. He gave me his left hook, so I leaned back and dodged it like Neo. He followed through, spinning around, trying to take my legs out. I used my Jet Pack to go vertical, spinning at the apex of the burst.
        A massive left hook nailed the top of his skull, sending his face into the ground. He still didn't stop. As I landed on my feet, he reared up and gave me a solid two-hoofed buck to the chest. It sent me backwards, right onto my ass.
        Medical warnings started lighting up like crazy, and the biofoam cooled my chest as it was auto-injected. He spun around and lunged, going in for the kill.
        *Bip* *Bop* *Bam* Close Call!
        His body landed atop me, his blood recoloring my armor like the Wonderbolt from earlier. I sat there a second. Pizza fought these guys and didn't get a scratch? Maybe I should see how his CQC compares to mine. I mean, this guy almost did me in and he's almost retired! Me? I'm one of the UNSC's finest, so what gives?
        The medical warnings ceased and my shields stopped going beepity-beep. I let them recharge fully before I got up. Pizza might be faring worse, but I still had a mission: save the merchant shipping. I got to the helm.
        Pretty good the helm was in the conning tower. I radioed to Pizza, “Conning tower secured. I need you to disable their guns.”
        “I'm -*BOOM* shckshck- running into some -*BOOM* shckshck- minor delays. ETA: not now.”
        Sounded like some fierce fighting. Best to leave him to it, after all, I did have a Satchel of C-12 left over... I saw the guns swivel over, reacquiring one of the merchant vessels. I shifted hard to starboard as the guns fired, forcing a miss.
        I found some nearby rope, and my M7S, on the ground near me. I tied up the helm, leaving the ship spinning in circles. Time to move out.
        I headed below deck, “Pizza, I'm coming down. Where are you?”
        “-*BOOM* shckshck- Just follow the bodies. -click- Dammit!”
        I looked around. Looks like he was right. What's white and black and red all over? The path to Pizza, of course!
        I moved towards the bow, and then gunfire started reverberating throughout the halls. I was near, and my motion sensor marked one friendly. IFF confirmed it as Pizza.
        “One coming in!” I radioed and rounded the corner. Pizza had found the barracks, apparently. And everyone in it, too. There was one last Zebra in a hall, trying to sneak in behind Pizza.
        *Pfft* *Pfft* *Pfft* *Pfft* *Pfft* Tango down... or is it Zulu?
        “Thanks, Joe. What took ya so long, you're awfully tardy to the party, huh?”
        “Ah, I just needed to dance with the Captain a bit. Showed him the magnum shuffle, too.”
        “Did he like it?”
        “It blew his mind, if I do say so myself.”
        “Ha!” he pulled out his Trauma Kit, “Can you help with this?”
        “I've never been much for 'the good stuff' myself but if you insist...”
        I knelt down next to Pizza as he laid still, taking off some plates and patches of his armor.
        “Too much boom, not enough stick; ricochet got me.”
        “Only you would seek medical attention for self-inflicted gunshots. If I wasn't there half the time, I'd swear you need a damn good therapist.”
        The injury was bleeding, but no where near enough to panic about it. I activated my helmet's lights, trying to get a better look. A small round of buckshot had embedded itself in his left side. It was shallow, so I should be able to safely pull it out. It would save him on medical expenses later.
        I pulled out my armor's biofoam canister. Years of fieldwork told me by weight alone that it was empty. “This is a powerful painkiller, with it, you shouldn't feel a thing,” I lied between my teeth. I hooked up the miniature, empty bottle to an injection port on his armor. I pushed the button. Hiss Just enough left to make it convincing.
        I drew my knife next, and squeezed around the wound, elevating the buckshot. Pizza groaned through grit teeth at this, so I put his helmet on him, backwards. I dug the knife in and quickly extracted the round. I immediately put pressure on the wound as I reached for the Trauma Kit.
        “Just take it out already!” Good, the placebo was working.
        I wrapped the wound firmly in several layers of gauze, tying it off on his back. I spun his helmet around.
        “Thank God it's over! That hurt like Hell! What kind of painkiller was that, false hope and dreams?”
        “Yes, and I'm glad that you made it through battlefield surgery. I might even have a lollipop for you.”
        He quickly put his armor back together. The gel layer would help hold the bandage tight. Time to go topside.
        We made our way over to the guns. The crews were scrambling for powder and shells until we dropped them. This ship certainly wasn't no Harmony, and damn sure wasn't any Caesar, but it did have the biggest gun in this fight.
        Pizza covered me with his DMR as I planted the C-12 Satchel against the mounting ring for the turret. Bomb Armed.
        “Prepare for touch off.” We both ran back behind the conning tower. I hit the detonator, “Clear!”
        Bomb Detonated!        Victory!
        Wow, this announcer-guy-program-thingy really doesn't know we're not in a simulation, huh? Regardless, it looked like we had cleared the ship. Mission accomplished. I went back to the helm, untying it. I got the ship homeward bound again. Still a few hours to get home though, and Pizza dozed off en route.
        But before it was all smooth sailing, more splashes landed amongst the local water. Why were we still being shot at? Who was shooting? A shell whizzed overhead and took of a guard rail from on the deck. Now that was close!
        “Pizza, she's yours!” I yelled at Pizza, rudely waking him.
        I ran on deck and looked towards the merchant vessels. Apparently the Aegis Fate had a hidden gun. Makes sense. I ran over to the main mast on the Stormbreaker. I lit up my Jet Pack and took off skyward, reaching for the ships flag. I tore it down, but didn't have anything to replace it with. I hope the message was clear.

        It was.

        Once we were back in Canterlot, I debriefed the princesses on exactly what shit went down, and where it went down. Celestia still seemed incapable of viewing deaths as statistics and not tragedies. Luna did not have this problem.
        “Joe, your Fireteam Crimson seems to be an excellent fighting force. On several occasions, you've outperformed Equestria's armed forces by large margins. Would you mind running some of our soldiers through your own training regimes? It would save many lives in this conflict,” Luna said, just after I finished the debrief.
        “Hmm... I might be able to do that. First of all, I'll need to know what restrictions I'll have to operate within. Spartan training ain't an easy thing. Then I'll need a bunch of grunts to yell at, and I'll need to hold military rank in Equestria's armed forces so no one tries pulling rank on me.”
        “I believe that any regime that doesn't kill them should be fine. You could give a company of the Royal Guard a salvo or two of your verbal barrage. And I think I can make you an acting Captain for the training exercises. Does that sound fine to you?”
        “Yes, ma'am, but there's one last thing: I don't believe having a well-trained regular army will win this war. I'm suggesting some sort of Special Forces get formed. One that I will supervise and command for all incursions. The difficulty is that SF soldiers always have this 'right stuff' that can't get trained into a man. I have it, Pizza has it, and the rest of Crimson formerly had it.”
        “I can get you a list of recommendations by the end of the week-”
        “That won't do. Someone's recommendation is always a biased one, Hell, even my choices will be biased. But I believe it'd be best if this SF team is formed by my own experience with the soldiers, or by substantial reports. The training will put me in an optimal position for their selection.”
        “Fair enough, but that only solves one of Equestria's problems. Another is technology. You said the Zebra's have steel-hulled warships. If that is the case, they own the seas. How do you think we should match them?”
        “Well, let me tell you a little thing about the Bessemer Process...”

        I had laid down the groundwork for Equestria's own Industrial Revolution, using Earth's history for reference. I also had some city plans for Canterlot to see where I could drill the company that'd be rolling in tomorrow.
        I rolled them out next to the Pelican. There was the castle, the bridge, a few domestic structures and a guards' barracks.
        The city was also partitioned off into districts. Gold was Royal District, and it contained the castle and its gardens. Emerald was Residential District, containing two towers, an elevated housing structure and the barracks, plus a small training ground for the guards, near the Royal District. Cyan was Entertainment District, and it contained the Octagon, the Hourglass Spa, the Artifact Club, and the Old Chalice Theater. I'd best check those out later. Lastly was orange. Orange was Shipping District, it had the sky docks, the shipyard, a crane, and a massive storage area that extended inside the mountain. That storage area was accessible from my present location.
        I also noticed that Canterlot had next to no industrial sites nor resources. Everything was probably imported via the Shipping District to the city. The city also had a giant perimeter wall around it, save for the bridge and shipyard, the only ways in and out of the city.
        What were they thinking when they built this city? It's reliant on imports to sustain itself, yet has the walls to stand, blockaded, when it's being assailed? This city is NOT defensible AT ALL. It's also solely supported by struts that are embedded into the mountain! A single well-placed explosive could wipe out an entire district! Come to think of it, the architects probably weren't thinking when they built this city.
        Regardless, it's what I have to work with. I should probably take the company elsewhere for combat drills. If Canterlot becomes the front line of a battle, the battle would already be lost. Unless if the princesses have something shoved up their horns, I don't see how this city could survive a rocket salvo.
        I think I'll take them on a run for a few miles, over the bridge. Then Pizza could ambush them with Tactical Training Rounds. I'll get this thing organized before first light tomorrow. This is going to be fun!

        Daybreak in 12 mikes. Pizza just radioed in that he is set. I had left my armor behind for this op. Time to wake the herd. Pull pin. One... Two... Three... Concussion grenade out. I shut the eastern door to the barracks once the grenade went in.
        *BOOM!* Time to shine. I marched in, “All right you sorry bunch of sissies, form up!” They were still in what I'd have to assume is their skivvies, seeing as they don't normally wear clothes... Okay, creepy thought, go away now, I need Mr. DI right now. Thank you!
        “Did I stutter? Get in formation! NOW!” Eventually they shuffled to the foot of their respective beds. I slowly started walking down their lines, eyeing each and every one of them. One colt looked too young to be guard, and he looked like he was about to piss himself. By the smell, he had already done much worse, courtesy of Mr. Concussion Grenade.
        “Hey, look at this young buck right here! He thought he was gonna sign up and save the princesses and be a hero, well son, I can tell ya: every hero ever... is dead. Now why the hell did you sign up, grunt!?”
        “To serve with honor, sir!”
        “The Hell you did, rookie! Now I'm going to be nice to you and remind you kindly that when you address me, the FIRST and last thing that comes from that device of idiocy that is your mouth is to be 'sir'. Am I clear, Private Shitstain?”
        “Sir, yes, sir!”
        “Better,” I continued down the line, addressing the company, “Now, many of you may not know this, but the country you have sworn to defend 'till your last breath is at war. Those striped fucks are mighty brutal up close, whereas your sorry asses are like punching bags!” I saw one soldier, a rather buff individual look unfazed by my razing. Better put him in line.
        I still addressed the lot of 'em, but I focused on this Sergeant. “It seems that these African antagonists enjoy killing. It's kill or be killed out there, so what are you gonna do, soldiers!”
        “Sir, kill, sir!”
        “Dumbasses, the lot of you! Killing is hard, thinking is easy. Outsmart them, out fight them. So what are you going to do, Sergeant Numbskull?”
        “Uh... think, sir?”
        I belted at him, “What did I say not three seconds ago to Shitstain over there!”
        “Sir, think, sir!”
        “Good, now troopers this Sergeant's deft dumbness has just earned you a 14 mile run! Get your PT gear on, and form up outside!”
        Their groans were evident as I walked out the West exit. The run wasn't going to last 14 miles, but they didn't know that.
        The soldiers slowly shuffled out, they didn't know I was timing them in my head. Once the last one got out and in formation, I started talking, “378 seconds is a downright embarrassing time, and it's earned you 378 reps! But for now, we are behind schedule because of Specialist Slowpoke here, so double time it!” I motioned for them to follow as I ran off to the West.
        They were a little slow on the uptake, but the Lunar Guard escort I requested was quick to get them in line. I started orbiting their formation. “You're all slower than a turd in molasses! Pick up the pace!” I accelerated, as did they. I was starting to feel a bit of fatigue when we reached the bridge, but I didn't show it.
        I started repeating the Helljumper Jody in my head, it made this a lot easier. The bridge was a lot longer than I remembered it being. The Royal Guards did a good job of keeping pace, including Shitstain, Numbskull, and Slowpoke. Maybe once they start performing adequately I'll bother learning their names.
        We reached the end of the bridge. Pizza set off the smoke grenades, blinding the lot of us. His Promethean Vision would give him easy targeting. *BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM* *BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM* *BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM* *BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM*
        Pizza opened up with the .50 Cal HMG. I dove into a nearby ditch, as planned. This red glow emanated from his helmet as though it was a glimpse at Hell itself. The Lunar Guard just circled above like vultures. The company was screaming and hollering and bolting every which way. The TTR rounds would stiffen their coats, ceasing their movements, and it would numb any pain for a while, at least. When the smoke cleared, every last one of them was on the ground, covered in Red Dye No. 2.
        “Well, you boys just done got royally fucked by a pizza. Some piece of work you boys are...” I pulled out the UV rod to disable the TTR effects. Eventually everypony got back on their hooves, albeit shakily for some.
        Pizza spoke to them, “Be glad that this time it was a mock ambush, using non-lethals. The Zebra menace is not going to be so kind. That is why I'm here: to drill you in individual combat. Now, if I understand this right, your hardware is downright ancient. I'll teach you what I can for where it may apply, but the rest I will have to teach you boys in days to come.”
        What he was talking about was the first series of Prototype Rifles I sent designs for to the princesses' science and hardware teams. I needed to teach the eggheads about this new hardware just as much as the soldiers that'd be receiving it. As such, I needed to start out small and work up from there.
        I gave the eggheads the basics of firearms and gunpowder, and have left it to them to rearm this company. I left them a design like the 1903 Springfield. Automatic firearms will come later.
        Pizza had drawn out a felt-tip marker and tossed another one over to a thestral. He was demoing knife fighting for the Royal Guard. I heard the Lunar Guard is supposed to be deadly at this stuff... but so is Pizza. Now this I had to watch.
        Could water ever fight itself? Because it would look something like this. The thestral went straight for the throat, but Pizza ducked down and landed a slash on the Lunar Guard's hind legs. The guard continued flying onward, out of Pizza's range.
        The thestral stopped for the briefest of moments before charging back down on Pizza. The guard tossed the marker ahead of himself, and he landed just shy of Pizza. His marker went on to Pizza, who promptly dodged to the side, avoiding it entirely... or so he thought.
        The thestral charged forward as soon as his four hooves were on the ground, but his marker never hit the ground. Another thestral entered the fray, grabbing the marker Pizza dodged, and attempted to bring it back down atop him.
        Pizza barely caught this out of his peripherals, but nevertheless avoided the surprise attack. This maneuver left his ass wide open though, and it looked like the thestral was going right up it. The charging thestral jumped up onto Pizza at the last possible moment, and brought him to the ground.
        Pizza now had two attackers, but only one marker. He also had some things they didn't. He grabbed the thestral on his back and tossed him over his head, having him land infront of Pizza. He then switched on Promethean Vision at point blank range to the thestrals face. The rapidly flashing red light would make it hard to see for a while.
        The second thestral went in for the kill, but Pizza mule kicked her square in the chest. Pizza turned around as the second thestral recovered her breath. She charged, going for Pizza's chest. Pizza sidestepped and brought his marker across her throat while diverting her marker away from himself.
        The first thestral started getting up, rubbing his eyes. By the time he had figured out what was going on, he already had a black line across his throat. Game over, I guess.
        Pizza addressed the company, “First rule of a close-in fight: Control the enemy's weapon at all times. This was the thestrals main error in the fight.”
        Sgt. Numbskull spoke up next, “Sir, then what's the second rule, sir?”
        “The second rule is to use anything and everything to your advantage in CQC. Dirt, sand, gravity, Promethean Vision, even chemical weapons if you don't mind a court martial. Remember: history is written by the survivor. In most fights that is also the victor.”
        I cut in, “Also keep in mind that dead men tell no tales. Keep them alive, if possible, but don't let that be a reason to let them go on killing. What the enemy knows could spoil an entire operation if it gets in the right hands... or hooves, in your case.”
        “Sir, then what are we supposed to do when a fight breaks out, sir?”
        “You win it. No question. Taking prisoners is always something that is hard and unnecessary to do. Yell for them to surrender before the fight breaks out, afterwards you kill 'em all unless if they wave the white flag. Another important thing to remember is the strength of the wolf is in the pack, and the strength of the pack is in the wolf.”
        A few of the recruits seemed daunted that they may have to take another life at some point. I don't blame them, but it is necessary in a war. Especially when the enemy will target those that can't fight back, like with the Princess of Whales.
        “Um... Sir, what are we supposed to do against an opponent who has every foreseeable advantage, like Sergeant Sweat, sir?” This recruit, Pvt. Shitstain I believe I called him, gestured towards Sgt. Numbskull. Apparently his name was Sweat.
        “Why don't I show you? Pizza, get over here. Fisticuffs.” Pizza was a bit taller than me, maybe six inches out of the armor. He was also a better CQC fighter than me. But I am smaller, have less mass. That means faster acceleration, and higher specific impulse, if such a thing can be gauged on a human... or horse.
        Ten paces marked the distance. We had both fists elevated, in a boxing pose, almost as if we were holding rifles with bayonets affixed.
        He charged, I ducked and rotated behind him. I got under his center of mass and grabbed on. I hit him with a suplex, sending him over my head, face first into the ground. I then completed the backwards somersault, positioning myself on his back.
        I hit him left and right with everything I had... until he flung me backwards. “That's that,” I said on my back. Pizza helped me back up.
        “Now, soldiers, the key there was to control my opponent as a whole. He was bigger, so I knew he'd fall harder; I used gravity to my advantage.”
        Pizza cut in, “And don't forget to hit 'em while they're down, it can save you some troubles later on.”
        Back to me, “Okay, soldiers, partner up and practice. Use what you know and learn from your follies. The thestrals will remain on station for three more hours, and they will provide you with help until then. I strongly recommend you use it. I'll be back shortly. Pizza, keep them in practice.”
        “Alright, Joe. Where are you going?”
        “I want to see the pony that built that CRRC, it was much more advanced than most other tech here, plus I want him on my team.”
        “Is this that SF thing?”
        “Eeyup,” I jogged back to the castle. The sun was on the rise, but most citizens were still asleep.
        Once inside, I found Luna on her throne. Aside from the guards, it was only her and me. Apparently the night is not preferable for politics.
        “Luna, I was wondering about that CRRC we got back on the Harmony.”
        “Joe, always nice to see you. What was it about the CRRC, specifically?”
        “I want to know who invented it, maybe even meet him myself. It was far more advanced than any other native tech I've seen, and he may prove invaluable for future operations.”
        “Hmm... work's almost wrapped up anyway, right this way then,” she guided me between the two thrones with her wing as she stood to take the lead.
        Between the thrones was a doorway. Past that, was four different paths: two going up, one left, and one right. Onward and upward!
        Some Royal Guards parted ways as we ascended the right staircase. Looking past the central façade, I noticed that the other staircase went to the same destination as the one we were headed towards.
        We ascended the second flight, leading to a massive room. Inside were two thestrals standing guard just outside a door that lead through the massive security wall. They let us pass, and I noticed two more on the other side.
        But past the wall was something amazing. It was a giant room with all sorts of technology on massive work tables. A team of scientists of all types of the ponies, numbering roughly 20 in all, were going about, zipping to and fro.
        They didn't really seem to notice Luna at all, being as busy as they were. Luna spoke to me, “This is what some have come to call the 'Nerve Center'. It is all of Equestria's most technologically-inclined great minds, working together in a single facility. Ever since it was put in effect, many great things have come from it, the locomotive being one of them. The scientists in here have a blank check to build whatever they deem necessary. Brilliant, isn't it?”
        “It sure is. It reminds me a bit of Project Manhattan, just more civil. I'm calling it now: if the war is won, it will be because of the minds in here. Anyways, where is that scientist who built the CRRC?”
        A scrawny, light brown buck with goggles and a lab coat walked up to me, “That would be me, Lieutenant! My name is Spectacles!” Okay, that was address for concern... I never gave my rank to these folks here, yet they already know of me? I glanced at the princess, about to address my concern.
        “Don't worry, Joe, they are the most trusted in Equestria. Plus he was insistent on knowing all he could about any testers who would be using his prototypes. All he knows is what you've told me.”
        “Good, thank you, ma'am,” I turned back to the scientist, “Anyways, I was wondering how you came up with such a design.”
        “Oh, that was simple! I just did what I always do: see past the 'nots' and 'can'ts' in order to take a stab at the impossible! How did it work for you? I've been really curious, and did you happen to recover it at all?”
        I raised an eyebrow in the fashion of Spock before I said, “You seem like a very capable individual. And sorry, but the CRRC had to be left behind in the operation. I was wondering if you'd like to join my Special Forces team? We still need someone like yourself for everything we'll be doing.”
        “An SF team? No, sorry. I just don't like shooting stuff-”
        “You're not going to have to shoot anything. You'll just be building new tech for us, and you'll be our eyes in the sky when we have a ground operation going on.”
        “The worker benefits are rather nice here already, plus there's no concern for funding or budget restraints-”
        “There are no restrictions for what my team can and can't do. Plus we have a great dental plan!”
        “Oh, then sign me up! I've had this toothache on and off for about a week now that isn't covered...”
        Luna spoke up, “Last I checked, this position comes with a full-coverage dental plan!”
        Spectacles responded, “Oh, I'm just pulling your leg, milady. I'd really like to have my inventions tested much more quickly, then I can get real progress towards better and better inventions!”
        I spoke, “Alrighty then! Rendezvous with me and Pizza below in the caves. Just look for a big metal bird and a metal vehicle that looks like a puma. We'll be down there in five hours.”
        “Okay, I'll be there!”
        That is the SF team's first member... and he is an egghead. At least he'll be away from all the real fighting. I turned to Luna, “Thanks for the tour, but right now I need to get back to the Royal Guards, but there's one last thing: Can you see if you can get me a list of the most elite soldiers in Equestria? It would really help form this SF team. See you around!”
        “I'll see what I can do, farewell.”
        I lightly jogged out of the castle.

        I found the guards sore, but capable. They seemed to have learned a lot from Pizza's tutelage, especially about overexertion. “How's the fighting, Pizza?”
        “Drawn out and tiresome, but I think they'll manage. They even took down a few thestrals, and one Private in particular even fragged me. I awarded him with push ups. Two hundred of them. How about you?”
        “Our team's gaining in numbers, but we still need a name of sorts for it. Something that can be feared and revered.”
        “How about the Crimson Guard?”
        “As good as it sounds, I think that might be copyrighted. Plus it's cheesy and I'd like the whole squad to vote on it. If it passes then, so be it.”
        “You're no fun. Anyways, I think the guards are running on fumes. What you say we wrap this up and pick it up later?”
        “Sure, but send that Private who fragged you over to me first. I'd like to talk with him, and see what he can do. Drill the troops until I rally them back to the barracks.”
        “Alright. Private Fencing, get over here! Joe wants to talk to you.”
        Lo and behold, the pegasus, Private Shitstain, walked up to me.
        “Sir, you wanted to talk to me, sir?”
        “That and more, Private. I heard you fragged Pizza in the knife fighting.”
        “Sir, it wasn't easy, sir.”
        “I want to experience your skills myself, this time with actual knives.”
        “Sir?!”
        “Don't worry. No actual killing, though. I want to see what you're made of. Pizza, knife!”
        My friend tossed over his standard issue knife, something like a modified Bowie, with the area of the blade nearest the hilt being cut down slightly. I promptly handed it over to Pvt. Fencing, then drew my own.
        “Sir, I don't think this is very safe, sir.”
        “Closest we can get to holo-sims presently. Make do with it.”
        “Sir...”
        “Private, ready your blade now. I need to see your potential.”
        “Sir... alright, sir.”
        Twenty paces. We both stood there, deadlocked into each other's gaze. We were waiting for the other to make a slip. He held Pizza's knife in his mouth, I was holding mine in my right hand. The other guards gathered round.
        Nothing. Minutes ticked by, each feeling like hours. This guy was not going to move until I did. First to move tends to be the first to slip. Non-lethal is the goal, but that doesn't mean I can't thrash him.
        Finally it seemed I ran out his patience. He stepped forward, I began to counter. It was a feint! I was open, and he slashed at my gut. I jumped back just in time, but a little too late. I now had a cherry red slash across my gut. Nothing serious, it was shallow. I wish I had brought Mjolnir for this exercise.
        New plan: cheat. I dug the toe of my boot into the dirt, and kicked a fistful of it into Fencing's face. I charged to close the gap, but just when I thought I had him, he went airborne. Damn. He circled a few times, then set down just out of range. Stare down.
        He was tired, more so than I. He probably knew that too. He would either rest or try to end this quick. Unlike the other recruits, he opted for the former. That left me with the latter. Great.
        Plan... C, is it? Plan C: copycat. I feigned a charge, he countered as I got on his inside. I grabbed his jaw, keeping the blade under control. I held the knife to his neck, but before I could really call it a kill, he bucked me away. It hurt about as much as the Zebra Captain's, but this time I was out of Mjolnir.
        I was on my back, trying to recover my breath. He went airborne, and was about to drop the knife onto my pretty little face, or somewhere uncomfortably close to it. I brought up my boot, returning the buck.
        He dropped his knife from the blow. I set him down next to me, then rolled on top of him for the kill blow. He reversed, forcing me through the rest of my roll and onto the ground. He continued through, and wound up on top. Isn't he supposed to buy me dinner first?
        We were both still trying to recover from the previous blows, but he seemed to be faring better. But I had the knife. I was bringing it up to him when he tackled my knife arm to the ground, halting it under his own body weight. He starting landing blows with his wings!
        Ouch. Note to self: don't piss off a pegasus; their wings hurt! A lot. One of his wing-strikes landed squarely on my trachea, making my already difficult breathing more so. Then, I felt something leave my grasp. I bit down on his wing, trying to force him off.
        He came off screaming, but the knife was firmly planted hilt-deep nest to my head. Kill confirmed. With this being a day-one performance, I knew he had the right stuff. The guards let out a cheer... as did Pizza, that traitor!
        “Alright, Private. That was an admiral display,” I got up and grabbed Pizza's knife from the ground. I handed it to Pizza. “Take the boys back to the barracks, double time,” I said to Pizza.
        “Yes, sir!”
        They all started running off, even Fencing, who was rubbing his wing where I had bitten it. “Not you, Private Fencing. You stay here for bit.” He fell out of rank and trotted up to me.
        “Sir?”
        “You've got a lot of talent for fighting, private. Just so happens I'm looking for talented fighters. If you so choose to accept, follow me. Otherwise, return to your company.”
        “Sir, I do, sir!”
        “Aren't we supposed to say our vows first? Also, you can stop calling me 'sir' now that you're onboard. There's just a coupled things I need to grab and then we'll head out.”
        I walked over and picked up the HMG and the smoke grenade husks. Can't leave those lying around, can we? We started walking back across the bridge. “Fencing, you seemed rather eager to accept. Any reason why?”
        “I just want to... do more, you know? My family is well known for wooden, and occasionally steel, fences, but that's just not me. I wanted to be something greater. To do something more. Then I walked right by a recruiter who showed my a new light. Since then, I've enlisted. And, please don't report this, but I even forged my birth certificate to enlist. Two years underage and kicking twice as much tail, oh yeah! Back then, I was board, with no foreseeable life that ended with me enjoying it. I left home some three years ago, and lived on the streets until I found that recruiter.”
        “Where was your home before the guard?”
        “I couldn't really say I had a true home. My family was in Appleloosa. Because of all the trouble the buffalo gave them there, it was an easy market and nopony was better at it than us. When I left I stowed away on a train that came through there. I decided to wait through three stops, then ditch. First was Dodge Junction, then Canterlot, and finally Ponyville. I lived in the Ponyville alleyways for a full year.”
        “What was Appleloosa like?”
        “Mostly desert. I read into it once... I think it's because of the prevailing winds leaving Appleloosa in a rain shadow. The mountains, including Canterlot's, to the West cause the rain shadow. Most rainfall comes from the the ocean to the Southwest, whereas the Marelantic Ocean to the East is too far for rain to be easily transported. Hoofington has no trouble with Marelantic rain because it's right on the coast, whereas Manehatten is the West's version of it, though it is on a river, not an ocean. Dodge Junction is North of Appleloosa and East of Canterlot. Canterlot has a direct line to Ponyville. Normally in rain shadows, pegasi ferry water to and fro, either that or it's by train”
        “And did you ever have to run water?”
        “Only when work demanded it. I was just a colt at the time, but I already had more experience in the field than most of the other carpenters I was working with. Frankly, when I lied about my age to enlist, a lot of the boys in the company started making fun of my stature. I'm glad you came around to knock 'em into place.”
        “Glad to have helped,” we were already at the shipyard. Pizza was waiting for us.
        “Howdy, Joe, Private. What's the situation?”
        “Nothing we can discuss with current company yet,” I glanced at Fencing, “but it looks like we've got ourselves another one.”
        “Another one of what, if you don't mind me asking?” Fencing asked.
        “Alright, I'll tell you everything this job will demand of you, and you can choose whether or not to join up or not.”
        “Okay, shoot.”
        “You will be asked to carry out actions that aren't necessarily legal. You will be left as a nameless silhouette in the background in every history book, report, and document. You will effectively cease to exist. The princesses will be in direct contact with you and everyone else in this team. You will get advanced technology before any other grunt. And you may have to die or commit fratricide if necessary for the mission. Is that understood?”
        “Seems like a tall order, sir. I accept. So... where are we based, on a skyboat?”
        Pizza spoke, “Kind of the opposite of that.” He nodded his head towards the massive vault door that lead to shipping storage.
        “Um... a big metal box?”
        “Just follow us, we can't keep our guest waiting.”
        I lead the way, Pizza and Fencing flanking me. Deep down inside Canterlot's mountain, we found our Pelican and Spectacles. He was examining everything that wasn't bolted down, and even that which was!
        I spoke, “Spectacles! Come meet our new member, Fencing. Fencing, this is Spectacles. He's in charge of technology and long range troop coordination. He makes the tech, and we use it in the field.”
        “Hello there, Fencing! Always great to meet someone new! Oh, and Joe, I couldn't help but analyze some of the technology you brought with you. It is FANTASTIC! I've never seen hardware so advanced! I might be able to reproduce some of it, but this silvery and yellow tech I can't figure out at all! How does it work?”
        “And that is Spectacles... That tech is Promethean in origin, the UNSC is still having trouble figuring it out. Something about hardlight ordinance, and be careful with the Incineration Cannon, that thing is anti-vehicle.”
        “Incineration Cannon? You mean it reduces a target to ash?”
        “And small vehicles, yes, so please be careful with it.”
        “Ooh, this is so exciting! You said it uses light, right? I might be able to make some sort of focused beam of technicolor death... no, but the weapon would be destroyed by the heat... unless if I use multiple converging beams! But that would require getting a targets exact range, unless if-”
        I decided it best to leave Spectacles to his own thought processes, after all, I think mine are enough already. “Anyways, Fencing, this is our base of operations. It's an ongoing operation, but I think it will be commendable once development is finished.”
        “Oh, did you say something about development?” Spectacles cut in.
        “Yes, I did.”
        “Well, I've been thinking about how we could build a whole facility down here. I referenced what logs of yours I could, and compared it to Equestria's own military housing formats. I think I've designed something you'll like!”
        “Well, let me see it.” Man that buck can work fast!
        The building layout had a mess hall, combat information center, metal/wood shop, storage area, barracks, reactor, shooting range and monitoring station all on the first floor! Most of it used the UNSC tech on the Pelican. The second floor was a giant kill house, for training and competitive matches.
        I even noticed he showed it was all powered by the Mantis's nuclear fusion reactor. The reactor room, with the Mantis in it, was at the farthest point from the entrance. The monitoring station was the only thing connected to the entrance, and from there to the rest of the subterranean building. At least we would know someone was coming.
        The defense turret was at the tunnel entrance, which would be about where I'm standing. The monitoring station and reactor room would both extend into the second floor, but would be shielded against stray rounds.
        “This is stupendous. And you designed this in just a few hours? Absolutely spectacular!”
        “Well, that's why they call me 'Spectacles'... actually it's because of these dark rings in my coat around my eyes, but I like to think otherwise!”
        Sure enough, he did have rings around his eyes that looked like eyeglasses. It was kind of hard to notice at first, due to his goggles.
        “So... where do I sleep?” asked Fencing.
        “Sleep? Who needs sleep!” Okay, Spectacles, lay off the espresso...
        “You can use the jump seats in the Pelican's troop bay. Pizza and I will take the pilot seats. That should last us until Spectacles' bunker gets built.”
        Pizza spoke, “It ain't exactly a five-star hotel, but you're soldier.”
        I turned to Pizza, “Let's get suited up, probably best in case of some rapid deployment we might need to go on.”
        “True,” and we both went into the Pelican's troop bay. By now, for us, Mjolnir was trivial to put on and take off. It would only take about fifteen minutes in all, and that was with a full system diagnostic. I noticed that we gathered up a couple pairs of curious eyes while we were dressing.
        “I'll just chalk that up to curiosity about human anatomy and let it slide. On the Infinity, to conserve space, unisex locker rooms are used, so we aren't too perturbed by undressing in front of one another. Regardless, you aren't going to see much. The gel layer is worn at all times to make Mjolnir that much easier to don and strip. Better luck next time.”
        They both visible blushed and shied away as Pizza let out a hearty chuckle. My Mjolnir read green across the board. Pizza pulsed his green ready light once shortly thereafter. We were set.
        My motion sensor showed something: yellow contact at eight o'clock, high. I walked outside the Pelican and looked skyward, if that could even be done underground. Luna was visiting again. Probably just chock full of good news and sugar plums!
        When she landed, she walked right up to me. Yep, probably sugar plums! “Joe, the Royal Investigative Service had some agents report in that the Zebras are mobilizing a massive force of warships and ground troops. We suspect they will try to invade at Hoofington, as the damage to it's defenses from the fire have yet to be mended in full. Seeing your report from the Harmony incident, I believe you would be the best bet for Equestria's defense right now.”
        “They're amassing forces? Can you show me where?”
        Luna produced a map from under her wing. It was of the Marelantic Theater of Operations. I personally doubted they would invade Hoofington. They still suspect Zebras for the fire and probably wouldn't take prisoners. Additionally, the Zerbican landscape is not an urban one. I think they would invade somewhere more familiar.
        “Luna, what is the terrain like to the North of Hoofington?”
        “Cold, arctic snow and ice. Why do you ask?”
        “And to the South?”
        “Tropical paradise and popular tourist and vacation spots. A hot, humid environment, but I must know what do you seek in these areas?”
        “I have a hunch Hoofington isn't their target. Regardless, it's a chink in our armor so it should be patched and reinforced whenever possible. From what you told a while back about their country, specifically the environment, I doubt they'd invade South of Hoofington. They can handle heat, but not humid heat. The Hoof won't take prisoners and have been suspecting Zebras for a while now. The Frozen North, however... May be an invasion route.”
        “And why's that?”
        “Because that. You just doubted it as an option. Additionally, gear for a desert will work decently in both arctic and sandy deserts. It requires very little modification to have it work. But just to be certain, did the Zebra warships have anything that could punch through ice on them?”
        “The RIS did report unusual spike-like structures attached to their keels. We thought it was for ramming...”
        “It might just be. Are there any forces that you have near the Marelantic that are equipped for arctic warfare?”
        “The only forces readily equipped for that sort of thing are in the Crystal Empire, but their on the West coast, not the East.”
        “That puts them out of range. Team, you ready? Looks like we'll have to hold off an entire army!”
        Luna seemed surprised, “You can't possibly hope the four of you can stave off an entire invasion!”
        “Eliminate strategic targets, it forces disarray. In the chaos, they will not be able to organize the operation. I just need to strike hard and fast before they make their move.”
        “And how do you plan on achieving that?”
        I knocked on the side of the Pelican, “Equipped for full combat pursuit: 90mm autocannon up top, 2 dual mounted 40mm HMGs on the side, and a coaxial mount for an M8C Spartan Laser and a GAU/53 70mm rotary autocannon. Compared to Zebra armaments I witnessed, I think we can handle an army.”
        Fencing walked up, “um.. Sir? Is there a plan B?”
        “Oh, we have HAVOK nukes for that.”
        Luna seemed a bit concerned. Normally that's Celestia's job. “You aren't seriously considering using something so destructive to achieve victory are you? We need to defeat the Zebras, not become something worse than them!”
        “Alright, then. Plan B will be we hand over all our classified materials and sit either in an isolation chamber or interrogation cell until we die or war's end in the event we cannot wipe out the Zebra's invasion force.”
        “That is not what I meant!”
        “I know, but there are no other options unless if you want us to sit on our ass and do nothing. Even then, the invasion will inflict heavy losses on both populations, including Equestrian civilians. My plan? No civilian deaths. That's a guarantee. So which is it?”
        “Fine. Go on with your original plan, but I'm listing you AWOL as soon as you leave. At least if things go South, Equestria won't be linked back to it. And if things do go South, I'll have to disavow your team, label you as rouge. Let's not let that happen now, can you?”
        “It won't happen, I promise. We'll also need some armor for Fencing here. The gold of his BDU stands out too much. I don't want us spotted until we're right on top of the invasion force. Do you have any Lunar Guard armor lying around?”
        She turned to Fencing, “Normally Royal Guards aren't issued that type of armor, so I should tell you not to talk much when wearing it. It is enchanted to make its wearer always speak in the ROYAL CANTERLOT VOICE!” Ouch, I think my eardrums just burst. “Ahem... I will send for the barding to be sent down here immediately. Do NOT misplace it, Joe. You've already seen how easily other soldiers can confuse one in the armor with a Lunar Guard.”
        “I wouldn't dream of it.”
        “You best not, I'll be watching your dreams.” Wait, she could do that?!
        “Alright. Farewell, Luna. Spectacles, use what you can of the supplies we'll be leaving to monitor us and give any intel you can when you can. Everyone else, gear up.”
        Luna left as we unloaded all but the necessities from the Pelican, stripping it of every unnecessary ounce. Less mass means more acceleration. I rigged a radio so that Spectacles could chat with us on the fly. “Press this button here to key the mic. That mutes incoming sounds, allowing you to speak. Just remember to let go afterwards.”
        “Got it! Fascinating...”
        Fencing was suited up. Looking good for a white buck in a thestral's kit. “Fencing, I've also got this here radio for you, too. This one only receives, so stay shut up and the enemy probably won't ever hear us until it's too late.”
        He nodded.
        Pizza spoke, “Joe, I think that's the last of the unneeded gear. We're ready for takeoff.”
        “Troopers, we are green and very, very mean!”

____________________________________________________________________________________________

“Lieutenant, you let a bunch of sentient equines handle a UNSC Pelican?”
“Not the last time either, sir.”
“How did you possibly think that would play out?”
“I knew they were good, plus we needed more guns, sir.”
“Is there any other UNSC hardware you let them handle?”
“Not directly, sir, no.”
“Good, because this is not looking good for you.”
“Beg your pardon, Admiral?”

> Ch 5 Kicking the Door
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Mean and green we were. Fleet vs Bird, who will win? Sounds like a cheesy Hollywood title from the 24th Century when the entire film industry stagnated. Pizza got the 90 mike-mike. Fencing could swap waist guns mid-flight, so naturally he got those. And I'm the only one with a pilot's license (does a pegasus even need one?), so guess what I got! Shotgun? Nope... Pilot.
        Pizza and I loaded light survival kits into our seats in case of ejection. We both packed M7 SMGs and the Mighty Magnum! No frags, but we had Thruster Packs. I remember reading in the Spartan Field Manual that the Thruster Pack can be used for extreme reentries and fire starting in addition to its intended purpose.
        We tuned both of our armors for vehicles. I ran Gunner and Wheelman. Pizza went with Sensor and Wheelman. What? There aren't any other vehicle-related Tactical Packages! The Wheelman has been doubled!
        Let's light this candle.

        And light it we did. It was the middle of the night. Luna, by my request, actually gave a rather bright night. (The better to shoot you with!) We were flying too high to be easily seen, plus I doubt the zebras would be looking for a big green bird in the sky.
        I held up three fingers to Pizza, “Entering combat zone in three mikes. Last minute radio check. Crimson One, okay.”
        Pizza was next, “Crimson Two, okay.”
        “Crimson Actual, okay,” came Spectacles.
        I looked out the window to our mute waist gunner. I waved my arms to catch his attention, then tapped my earpiece, giving a thumbs up. He smiled back. Crimson Three, okay. All okay, time to get to killing.

        My God, it must be the whole damn Zebra fleet! Many of the LCTs and the like had already landed at this uninhabited arctic coast. They were like a swarm of ants, turning this white canvas black with their barding and numbers. Aside from the ships, I didn't see any AA, nor armor. The LCTs were brimming with stripes.
        “Hang on!” I radioed. I sent the Pelican into a steep dive, maybe seventy degrees. Absolutely terrible for ground attack, but workable regardless. Also, Pizza. KraBOOM The 90 mike-mike barked out. I saw the heavy vapor trail mark a line straight into one of the LCTs. Shots fired.
        BLAM I let loose with the Splazer. Another Landing Craft Tank destroyed.
        Pow Pow Pow Pow Pow Fencing let loose with his 40 mike-mike. My turn.
        BaWAAAA! My 70mm rotary spun to life with a roar like Godzilla. The Zebra LZ was looking like it was on fire. Good. Altitude warning just popped, time to pull up, “Brace.”
        My accelerometer registered 6 Gs. Poor Fencing, good thing he was harnessed up. My radio crackled, “Crimson One, this is Crimson Actual. Hostile ships are vulnerable via a top-down attack through their amidships deck. Additionally, you need to eliminate all hostile ground forces. The ships are secondary.”
        “Solid copy, Crimson Actual. Advancing to infantry.”
        Apparently Fencing didn't pass out. Probably because he was a pegasus. I flew the Pelican in a strafe across the landed Zebra infantry. Massive streaks of black and red marked the swathes we cut. I pulled up slightly after the strafe.
        I rolled the Pelican around into a loose, steep orbit. Fencing was still on the right, so he flew around for the other gun. KraBOOM Pizza started targeting the rest of the infantry.
        Static, “Crimson One, that dreadnought is taking aim!”
        “Brace!”
        I slammed the the nose forward, pulling -4 Gs. Fencing stayed with us again, damn he has a high G tolerance! A massive naval shell streaked overhead. It was maybe the size of a cryopod. That would have hurt a fair bit.
        “Crimson, target the ships,” I broadcasted.
         Pow Pow Pow Pow Pow
        BLAM
        KraBOOM
        BaWAAAA!
        We all opened up. Pizza's shells tore straight into the deck of a battleship. I saw a massive explosion, more than what the shell should've done. He hit the magazine, splitting the ship in two. They must've been packing! My laser gutted the dreadnought that shot at us from stem to stern, blowing the magazines and the power plant in a single red glare.
        Fencing was on the mark too, striking out at the escort craft, but only doing negligible damage to their hull plating and missing quite a lot. My 70 mike-mike rotary made short work of the craft Fencing failed to kill.
        Their fleet was smashed, and in full retreat. “Well, that was quick!” Pizza radioed.
        “Maybe we scared them off with our hail of death?” I suggested.
        Static, “Crimson One, this is Crimson Actual. I think you left them starstruck. I have some intel here suggesting that in Zebra culture, the stars are viewed as an absolute evil. You struck from above at night, possibly looking like an attack from the stars. I think that's what scared them initially.”
        “Initially?”
        “The Zebra's homeland is overrun with the kind of monsters that are in fillies' nightmares. I don't think much can scare them for long, not even the fear of the stars. I think their retreat was a matter of avoiding a failure due to hubris. It may not be so easy in the future, plus they know your bird now.”
        “So we got lucky and staved off a Normandy-scale invasion, on our own mind you, just because they don't like to stargaze?”
        “Bingo! Now mop up their infantry they left behind and RTB, the princesses want to see you.”
        “Roger that.” I punched it. 5 Gs.

        Back at base, dawn was a few minutes off, and both Celestia and Luna were waiting. “Miladies,” all of the team greeted them in sync. Creep factor: 4.1.
        I took off my helmet, to see them eye to eye, and held it off to my right side in one arm.
        “Joe, we need to discuss some additional points of your plan to industrialize,” Celestia spoke.
        “What might that be, ma'am?”
        “I'm concerned that industrializing to quickly may put several folk in a state of financial distress. With this war, I know that we just can't slow down and give ponies time to adapt. I was thinking establishing some groups to help control industrial growth may be a good idea. I wanted to know your thoughts on the matter.”
        “Hmm... What will these 'groups' do, specifically?”
        “We were thinking they could focus on technology, medicine, science and the sort. It might boost morale, too!” Celestia said.
        “That sounds like only half the solution, but it's not really my place to say. I'm just an SF grunt.”
        “Hmm... I'll see if I can find somepony else to consult about it then, but Luna was wondering if you could handle a special warfare group?”
        “No, ma'am. NavSpecWar Group IV is a group I am part of, not one I lead. I'm only a Lieutenant. Plus, that would draw me away from the war effort and the front lines. Just a few minutes ago my team staved off an entire Zebra invasion in the Frozen North. Having someone lead a group dedicated to special warfare requires one with the right mindset. I tend to be better with small teams, no more than a dozen in total.”
        “What are you getting at?”
        “You need someone who, try as they might, function best in the macro than the micro. Someone who can figure out how to outmaneuver an army, or cripple it with little projection of force. That person would be ideal for leading a special warfare group. Also, we'd need a name better than 'group' for these groups... how's about 'Ministry'?”
        “Sounds excellent. I'll keep it in mind,” Celestia turned to leave.
        “One last thing, ma'am. Your Royal Investigative Service seems to do a fine job, but what you really need is centralized intelligence for both domestic and foreign threats. In Earth history, Julius Caesar was stabbed in the back by his best friend, mind you. Additionally, the RIS needs to start trying for interdiction rather than report and walk away. Something to dissuade an invasion, not inform on it. That's twice now when I had to go out and risk my ass to stop a threat after it became one. First the Caesar, and now the Frozen North. Use espionage, minimize battles.”
        “I'll... be sure to keep it in mind,” Celestia seemed rather shaken and eager to leave. Maybe because she just learned I helped kill thousands? Yeah, that's probably it.
        I sighed, turning to Luna, “So what brings you here, then? You didn't say anything when we were discussing the groups or the espionage.”
        “My sister is far too concerned about domestic policy to handle foreign affairs. I am not so concerned about home. I'm here to see if there is anything that your team can do to aid the war effort, also I've gotten the list you requested.”
        “You do? Great! And mind you, Spectacles is probably the one to talk to about technology, I plan a lot of thingies,” I grabbed the list from Luna's magical grasp.


From the desk of Princess Luna

                COL Lockheart
                CPL Starfire
                MCPO Daze
                MAJ Pane
                RDML Solace
                MSgt Liberator
                PVT Footfall
                T/5 Keen Eye
                2LT Cupcake
                SR Heartstrings

        “Cupcake got busted down to O-1 after that first contact incident?”
        “Indeed he did. It was what the tribunal deemed as fitting. Mind you, at the time, you hadn't done anything to prove your friendliness towards us yet. Otherwise, he probably would've been dishonorably discharged via the court martial.”
        “Ah, and I notice Keen Eye is also on this list. I think any position he could've filled, has been by Spectacles. I would suggest he gets transferred to the Nerve Center. Also, seeing this Master Sergeant makes me suspect he may be in Cloudsdale?”
        “That is correct, how did you know?.”
        “The B-24 Liberator was a bomber back at Earth. I'm not too sure how I'd be able to visit him myself. I would like to gauge every member in person before I even tell them about the group, but I can't exactly walk on clouds, you know.”
        “Well, actually...” A smile spread across her face.
        “You're kidding? That is awesome. How long does the spell last?”
        “It lasts three days.”
        “Are there any side-effects of it, or should I just set my clock?”
        “Do you want to do this, or not?”
        “Clock set! Hit me, milady!” Never thought I'd say that in my life. A bright blue flash enveloped my vision before everything returned to normal. I still had to blink out the last few spots.
        “Whoops, guess I forgot about the flash, huh?” It almost seemed like she was playing with me.
        “Happens to me all the time with my camera.”
        “Very well, then. I have a small airship waiting for you in the shipyard. You can fly it yourself to Cloudsdale whenever you want.”
        “Why, thank you, ma'am, but it won't be necessary. We have our own aircraft, though I would appreciate it if you also gave Pizza the cloud-walking spell..”
        “Fair enough. I'd best be off to bed afterwards, I'll see you around.”
        “That you will, milady.”
        I put my helmet on and walked up to Spectacles. I had a few things to talk to him about first, like “Where the hell is Cloudsdale?” and the such.
        “Alright, Spectacles. I need a map, and the addresses of the colts on this list. Can you do that for me?”
        “Right away, sir!” He grabbed the list and eagerly galloped off.
        I probably shouldn't be out and about with the sun out. I had to keep my presence minimal. Guess I should preform equipment maintenance, check the scanners, and check up on my team. I had no plan to do them in that order.
        I went over to the long range scanner, but when I tried to access it, I noticed something curious. It was open to a diagram of Mjolnir and a list of its capabilities and features. Apparently Spectacles has been studying it, but last I checked this armor system was classified. I would have to talk to him about it when he got back.
        The scanners showed nothing, just the usual near-planet contacts. Nothing to worry about, I guess. Time to check up the equipment!
        My sniper rifle was in several pieces on the floor of the Pelican. It wasn't destroyed, much to my relief, but it was disassembled. “Pizza, do you know who did this?” I held up my barrel.
        “Oh, that was Spectacles. He told me how fascinated he was by our firearms, and we thus far hadn't used our SRS99-S5 AM, so I pointed him towards it. Did he break it?”
        “No, he just field stripped it. Impressive if I do say so myself, the files on this haven't been accessed since our deployment. He figured it out on his own.”
        “Wow, keep him away from the Warthog... and the Pelican for that matter. We need those things!”
        “Noted,” I ducked back into the bird and started reassembling the rifle. This is not a toy, a single round from this travels at over 5000 feet per second, or about four and a half times the speed of sound. It can punch through 13 feet of flesh and bone from 600 yards. The flip side though, it is anti-matériel, so it isn't too effective against infantry, but man does it fly!
        Well, that's that. I put the reassembled rifle back in a weapons locker. The last time I had handled one of those was on Requiem. Apex site. The Infinity had just repelled boarders thanks to me and the other Spartans. It was where we lost Mormon, shutting down the Covenant portals. How were we supposed to know there was that cloaked elite right there, in the caves? He didn't join the fray when we shut down the portal he was supposed to defend! All Mormon managed to say was “Sniper!” before he got cut in half. I scoped in and dropped the sniper, Pizza shanked the camo bastard. Richard tried to save Mormon, but failed. Kinda hard to live without organs, huh? Drinks were on me that night.
        I marched out of the Pelican, memories in tow.
        “Here you go, Joe! Dossiers on everypony on that list, and their last known addresses!”
        Spectacles, good. Something to distract me from the past. Good thing this visor blocked out my face, I didn't want them to see any tears.
        “Good. I'll have to wait until a bit after nightfall to head out, I don't want to be known very well just yet. Kinda defeats the purpose of being covert.”
        “Alright. If you need me, I'll be checking out some more of the files on the Pelican. I'm so close to figuring out a new armor system for the Royal Guard! And new weapon designs aren't too far off!”
        “About that, Spectacles. Mjolnir is still a highly classified armor system, I'm surprised you even managed to crack the encryption on that terminal. And my weapons aren't much different. Tread carefully, and if you need to ask if you can read it, the answer is probably 'no'.”
        “Aww... I was so close to figuring out how the computer tech works on it! Also, I probably should tell you I've been sharing my discoveries with some of the boys in the Nerve Center. They've already improved the formula for the gunpowder you sent them, and are almost done with improved prototype rifles.”
        “I'll just assume you didn't tell them anything classified and that any like discoveries are just pure coincidence.”
        “Thank you, and sorry.”
        “Don't be, we're at war.”
        I looked over the dossiers as I sat down with Pizza. He was playing solitaire. “Lonely man's game...” I muttered.
        “A puzzle in an enigma, if you ask me.”
        “Lone wolf, regardless. Just don't get bit.”
        “What's the page-turner?”
        “Dossiers on potential crew. Lockheart, Starfire, and Liberator are all in Cloudsdale, apparently home of the Equestrian Air Force or EAF. One on 142 Featherhead Lane, another on 82 Ace Way, and the last on 542 Flock Drive.”
        “Isn't Cloudsdale in the sky?”
        “Intel suggests that.”
        “I know you've got this 'cloud walking' spell on you, but how do you plan on getting up there covertly?”
        “I'll just... drop in.”
        “Jet Pack or parachute?”
        “You know which one.”
        “Sounds like fun, but who'll fly the Pelican?”
        I just stared at him.
        “Great. Time of departure?”
        “1800. No delays.”
        “Alright, I'll get ready.” He reshuffled and walked into the Pelican.
        I just sat there, looking over the dossiers some more. All these troops were in active service. I could just pull rank to get them to follow me back, but COL Lockheart matches my acting rank the princesses gave me. Plus pulling rank would just lead to hostilities down the road for my men. Best to play nice.
        “Fencing! I'm going on a trip to Cloudsdale, do you know the place?”
        “Yes, sir. I've spent some time there while in service. What for, may I ask?”
        “First: you can stop calling me 'sir'. Second: some troops' names popped up and I want to check them out myself. I want you with me if you know the area.”
        “I do, sir... And I believe that you're the kind of figure that I want to call 'sir', so get used to it.”
        “Hmm... touché. We'll be leaving at 1800, so we've got some time to kill. You up for a game of blackjack?”
        “Sir?”
        “A card game. Come on, I'll teach you how to play. We'll use ammo for currency.”

        I swear it was beginners' luck, but I managed to pull a narrow profit.
        “Time's up, looks like I wasn't quite as close to the brink as you thought. You're a natural at this, I'll tell you that, but it's almost time to head out. I hope you haven't forgotten how to fly.”
        “I haven't, and I almost had you there! I swear you cheated!”
        “What, by cutting the cards? We've only packed the one deck, and cheating like that would mean every game would be the same. That's not fun, that's insane, literally.”
        “Yeah, and what is the symbol on the back of the cards, anyway? I've seen it on a fair amount of your equipment as well, and I'm curious.”
        “It's the UNSC eagle, the emblem of the United Nations Space Command.”
        “I take it you gamble a lot?”
        “Nope, I don't like to run the high risk for meager potential profit. Besides, the casinos always have the games in their favor by the very nature of the games themselves. And I take it you don't gamble?”
        “Nope, but it is fun.”
        “At least until you lose everything. Playing with faux money allows one to push their luck with less consequences for overestimation.”
        We boarded the Pelican. “Pizza, drop us at 20000 feet. We'll HALO this jump.”
        “Solid copy, taking off.”
        “You might want to grab on to something,” I told Fencing. The back hatch closed and he grabbed onto one of the jumpseats. I grabbed one of the overhead rails. We rocketed skywards and out of the cave.
        “Sir, what's a HALO jump?”
        “High Altitude, Low Opening. Bail from on high, open you 'chute down low. You have your wings instead of a parachute, and I have my Jet Pack. We'll be landing in the Cloudsdale streets, and you'll be navigating.” I handed him the map. I had placed red dots where our objectives were. I had done my best to memorize it, just like it was a sand table.

        The sun had set a few hours ago, and most folk would be locked up inside, by my estimate. Perfect for covert ops. A red light came on inside. “Get ready!” I called to Fencing as the back hatch opened wide. I waited for the tone.
        Boop Three...
        Boop Two...
        Boop One...
        BOOP Go!
        The green light lit up behind me, and I motioned for Fencing to bail out. I followed him closely, until gravity decided otherwise. The Cloudsdale streets were directly below, and closing fast. I waited until it looked like 300 yards away and then I activated my Jet Pack. The Jet Pack has less umpf than the reentry thrusters, but the reentry thrusters don't exactly have any room for error. Also, they were a plan B in case the cloud walking spell failed.
        100 yards and closing. 50. 25. Fuel out, I fell the last 25 yards. Luckily the spell worked! Good thing, too. I can take 25 yards in stride, but 2500? No way, man. Game over! I waited a bit for Fencing to arrive alongside me. “Who's closest?”
        “CPL Starfire, 82 Ace Way. This way, sir.”
        He marched down the road we landed on, then turned left. He stopped at a house halfway down the road, on the right side. I walked up the steps. I must admit, it's odd walking on clouds, but they did have a fair bit of give. Must be comfy.
        At the door, I knocked thrice. No answer. I hammered thrice. No answer. I counted thrice, then kicked the door in. An answer.
        “What in Tartarus?” A woman called from upstairs.
        “Lunar Guard,” I called out, “Are you CPL Starfire?”
        “What's it too ya?” she still hadn't shown herself, possibly to through off positive identification. She must have a bad rap with authority.
        “I've received a recommendation for her, and I have a promotion waiting for her, but only she can receive it.”
        She poked her head out, but not enough to see me. She must have seen Fencing. She walked down the stairs.
        “Alright! What's my new rank?”
        I came out of the cover I unintentionally obtained, “Nothing, yet. I want to see why you've been recommended to me.”
        “Ah! What the hell are you?!”
        Fencing stepped in, “He's my CO, and we're working with the princesses. Now are you going to answer the question?”
        “The princesses?”
        “Yes,” I responded, “and we're on a tight schedule.”
        “Oh, I specialize in making things break.” She emphasized her flank when she said this, it depicted a broken plank of wood.
        “Alright, tag along. We'll assess you later with the others.”
        “Others?”
        “A team is of many, but acts as one.”
        “Sounds like something COL Lockheart would say...”
        “Glad to see you know him. I think I'll like him. Who's next, Fencing?”
        “The Colonel, at 142 Featherhead Lane. Just one street over.”
        “We'll go over the houses.”
        He lead the way outside, then took flight over Starfire's abode. I lit up my Jet Pack. We landed on the next parallel street.
        “Down here.”
        We walked South a couple houses and then Fencing stopped us. I walked up the steps to the house on our left.
        I knocked once, an immediate response came, “Just a moment...” a gruff voice spoke. I heard clicking and rattling coming from behind the door. I drew my BR.
        The door burst open, and a well-weathered old stallion was pointing a crossbow at me. I matched him with my BR. “Lunar Guard, put down your weapon, Colonel.”
        “My wife, maybe. My dog, no. My weapon, never.”
        “Colonel Lockheart, we're here on royal business. Luna has recommended you to me and I want to see what you can do. Now if you don't lower your weapon, I will be forced to fire on you.”
        “What color is the night sky, then?”
        “The darkest of blues, but why does that matter?”
        He set down his crossbow, “Anyone who wasn't with Luna would've said 'black'. I can see that you are indeed with her. Now, what do you want me to do? And what is you rank?”
        “Right now, I'll need you to follow me. Once we get back to Canterlot,then you'll have to show me what you can do and why you were recommended to me. Presently I am an Acting Captain, by the Navy scale.”
        “Fair enough terms, I'd say.” He walked outside with us.
        Fencing spoke to him, “Sir, what about your wife?”
        “I said maybe... and she was a terrible cook.”
        I'm starting to like this guy, “Fencing, his wife died some years ago, of food poisoning.”
        “Oh... next up is Master Sergeant Liberator, at 542 Flock Drive.”
        “Alright, lead the way.”

        We wandered around Cloudsdale for some time, but made it to 542 Flock Drive. From the looks of things, this was the shady part of town. Litter was abundant, housing was poor, and I kept hearing the occasional scream that didn't seem to raise any of the locals' alarms.
        Guess this is the Wild West, best to stay frosty. I walked up to the front door of Liberator's house. I knocked once, “Lunar Guard.”
        I heard something behind the door, “Oh, shit, man! They're here!” It was faint, but there nonetheless.
        I knocked again, “Master Sergeant Liberator, this is the Lunar Guard. We have some things to discuss with you.”
        Those two voices again, faint as ever, “Draw them away, man, I'll hide the body.” Body?!
        I kicked the door open, BR level. Inside... inside was pool of blood at the base of a chair. Under the chair and behind it was a white tarp, apparently making cleanup an easier. I saw the pony in front of me: a dapper looking fellow in a pinstriped suit, complete with fedora. “What's going on here?” I asked.
        “Oh nothin' much, just some stuff,” he spoke with what sounded like a shoddy Boston accent.
        “Nothin' much that involves lots of blood and a clean, disposable canvas?”
        “Oh, that? That's just a... um... an... art project! Yeah.”
        “You do realize this is the residence of Master Sergeant Liberator, right?”
        “No, I'm pretty sure he lives further down the street...heh...”
        I memorized that map, he was lying. Or stalling.
        “Well, then you wouldn't mind if we used your bathroom-” Thump
        A dull thump interrupted me. Not much, mostly negligible. But I wasn't going to leave it to chance. I chased the noise towards the back of the house, through the kitchen window and into the alley.
        Sure enough, there was a pony in a pinstriped suit and fedora. Only he was trying to heft a brand new rug into a dumpster. A rug that had a tail sticking out of it. “Halt!” I yelled at him, leveling my rifle
        His friend jumped from the side, trying to disarm me. He was no Zebra, I'll tell you that. I brought my elbow down atop his head, knocking him out. His friend made a run for it.
        I would say he was at roughly 20 mph, to bad for him my BR has a muzzle velocity of over 1500 mph. *BAM BAM BAM*
        He dropped just like the rug. I walked over and unrolled the rug, revealing a soldier. I checked his uniform, and it was Master Sergeant Liberator. I noticed he also had something tucked under his fatigues. I pulled it out.
        Another dossier, this one stamped with 'CPD' across the front, right above 'classified'. It was still sealed. Looks like he died protecting it, and the cleanup crew was amateurs. I turned back to the crew I had assembled, “Anyone know anything about this?” I held up the manila folder.
        “Cloudsdale Police Department...” Starfire muttered. Apparently that's what CPD meant.
        No answer. Maybe Mr. Snooze knows. I walked over to the unconscious buck in the suit. “Pizza, requesting evac, my coordinates. Meet you on the roof.”
        “Roger.”
        I dragged the suited buck up the stairs of Liberator's home, my crew followed, carrying Liberator's body. I left the other buck to rot in the streets. Someone who gave a damn would find him. Eventually.
        Pizza brought the Pelican low over the roof. We carefully loaded Liberator's body aboard. I saw the Colonel head back down. I just tossed the unnamed buck into the back. Starfire carefully boarded and sat opposite of Liberator's body.
        The Colonel returned with a flag of what I'd have to assume is of the EAF. He spread it over the Master Sergeant. “Knew him?” I asked somberly.
        “No, but he's a soldier. He lived and loved and laughed, but he will no longer. I saw the flag downstairs. He must have loved his job.”
        “E-7s rarely don't. I was a Marine before I was a Spartan. I got cross-trained to be a pilot eventually. Had to fly too many evac birds home myself, I figured I could at least learn how to do it proper.” The back hatch sealed tight. Speaking of seals... “Alright, team. Time to take a vote. We either open this dossier and violate a dozen laws, or we keep it sealed and hand it off to the princesses. Handing it off may give whoever's behind this a chance to get away, but the other option could be considered treason.”
        Starfire spoke, “I think we should finish what he started.”
        “Agreed,” said Lockheart, without hesitation.
        “If we don't find anything, we could just say this scum-bucket here opened it,” Fencing said.
        “Pizza, you in on this?”
        “Officially, my intercom is givin' static and I can't hear a thing your saying. Unofficially, hell yeah.”
        I cracked the seal. The first document revealed a system of brackets, all leading to “Al Capony”. You've got to be kidding me... Are we after the Mafia, now?
        The next was a map like Fencing's but with hot zones marked out. It was labeled “Areas of Operation”.
        The last document was a sticky note that read, “leak?”.
        Apparently Liberator's house was actually a listening post, in the middle of a hot zone. I suspected the buck we captured is part of the gang Liberator was investigating.
        “Looks like Liberator found someone in the CPD who was leaking intel to Al Capony and his gang.”
        “Al Capony?!” the crew said in tandem. Pizza chuckled.
        “I take it he's infamous, huh?” I asked.
        “El es muy mal!,” Starfire said.
        “He strikes terror from above, and exerts his control in most of Equestria. The Mafia is his, but none of their crimes can be linked back to him. He rarely is seen, but when he is, it's always way far off from where any intel suggests he would ever be,” the Colonel explained.
        “I take it he owns Cloudsdale, and that Liberator was sent over in an attempt to circumvent the leak in the CPD. Poorly, might I add, seeing how little intel he got on the group.”
        “Apparently,” Fencing said.
        “Pizza, I'm coming up. I think we could use some more martial leverage to finish this mission.”
        I went up to the cockpit, and sat in the copilot seat this time. I flew the Pelican around to an EAF base that was on my map. I set her down.

        When the hatch opened, a bunch of Royal Guard greeted use at sword point. “Friendlies,” I called out, “One of your comrades has fallen in the line of duty, a Master Sergeant Liberator.”
        “Lib's on furlough!” one of the guards shouted out.
        I held up the dossier, “This says otherwise. We... were working with him on a case, and need a new base to operate from.” Dodged a treason bullet there, Joe. “Who's in charge here?”
        “That would be Lt Col Damage.”
        I turned back to my crew, “Bring the prisoner. Soldier, take me to Damage.”
        “Yessir.”

        Things just took an odd turn...
        Wars and the Mafia. Why can't we just get along? That question I've been trying to answer since Harvest. Right now, Lt Col Damage was making it resurface.
        “I'm saying, you have no authority here! I don't even know how you got here!”
        “Damage, I do have authority over you. Princess Luna appointed me Acting Captain of-”
        “And I outrank captain!”
        “No, you do not. I am a Navy Captain, making me equal to an Air Force Colonel, one rank above you.”
        “Bullshit! You ain't Navy!”
        “Lieutenant Colonel Damage, do you want me to get Princess Luna here to confirm my story? The last time an officer gave me troubles like this he was busted down to O-1. Do you want that? Plus, Colonel Lockheart here does outrank you, and he is ordering you to follow my commands.”
        “Oh, you better call the princess, because you do not belong here!”
        “Fair enough, don't say I didn't warn you... Pizza, head back to Canterlot, get Luna here.”
        “Right away, sir,” He turned and left.
        “See! No salute! You aren't even an officer!”
        “Damage, Spartans do not salute in potentially hostile environments. It identifies officers, marking them for hostiles... snipers in particular.”
        “Who said this base is potentially hostile!”
        “Your actions haven't been the most welcoming, and we still have a dead Master Sergeant on our hands.”
        “What are hands! See, you're just making things up, now!”
        I raised my right hand, “This is a hand, Damage,” I waved my fingers back and forth a little.
        “Doesn't change the fact that you opened a classified document! I can hold you on treason charges alone!”
        “We've adopted the mission due to Liberator being a potential member of my team, plus there were no other known operatives working with him. All the writing was from the same pony.”
        “Well, we'll just wait for the princess to get here and then we'll see what happens!”
        The roar of a Pelican's engines went off overhead. Pizza was back. That was quick. A flash went off next to me, I looked and Luna was in the room. Teleportation, neat trick. I liked teleporting back on Requiem. Though she probably used magic, not slipspace.
        “Lieutenant Colonel Damage, how dare you impede the progress of Joe's team! Their advancements and formation are paramount to Equestria's survival in this war. And you are refusing to recognize those of higher command! You are to come with me back to Canterlot so we decide what fate befits one of yourself. And, Joe?”
        “Yes, milady?”
        “Spectacles has recently given me a radio kit reinvented from his own you gave him prior. If you need to contact me, a call is all that it takes.”
        “Understood, ma'am.”
        “And Pizza mentioned a dossier of sorts?”
        Best to be truthful here, this is Luna after all, “We recovered a dossier pertaining Al Capony's Mafia on the body of Master Sergeant Liberator, it was sealed then, but we have since taken it upon ourselves to finish his mission, to make his death for something. I hope that this isn't a problem?”
        “It isn't. The warfront has since cooled to just a handful of skirmishes, Celestia is leading troops adequately against hostiles. But the Mafia seems to have taken the side of the Zebras, straining our resources and stressing our troops. If you have taken on Liberator's mission, then I'll be sure to have the CPD work closely with you on this.”
        I stepped closer to Luna, and whispered into her ear, “That's just it: Liberator suspected a leak in the CPD, or maybe even in the EAF, then he got killed. I have one of the hitmen detained and I plan on questioning him. Do NOT have the CPD even be aware we're in Cloudsdale. We'll announce our presence when we're ready.”
        Luna should have been some sort of James Bond level spy with what she did next. She feigned blushing, then giggled a little bit. “We'll just have to see about that now won't we?”
        I played along, “Oh, I plan on it,” I said in my best bedroom voice. I swear I heard Pizza go
“Woot!”
        Luna walked out of the room. Damn, she was good. She should lead the war effort, not Celestia. She is a master of façades. Lt Col Damage followed closely behind, somewhat shocked at my exchange with Luna. I was shocked, too. I turned to one of the MPs.
        “Where's the prisoner being held?”
        “In Baker wing, sir.”
        “Show me.”

        I found the pinstriped bastard sitting pretty in a marble room a fair bit like the room I woke up in a few days prior, only this one didn't have a window. I had one of the MPs open the door to the cell and lock it behind me. My team was waiting just outside. Apparently the one-way mirror wasn't invented yet.
        Too bad for him.
        I opened up interrogation with a solid left hook across his face. He tumbled to the ground.
        “What in Tartarus, man! I'm a prisoner! You can't treat me like that!”
        “I am not quite in the Equestrian armed forces, so I think you're piss out of luck. The only thing you have that I want would be information, but I do oh so love killing,” I depolarized my visor and gave him my most sadistic expression I could muster, “Can't always get what you want, I guess.” I drew my knife and planted it firmly in the table between us.
        “Guards! Help! He's gonna kill me!”
        “I don't think they particularly care,” I pulled the blade out and ran my fingers across the edge. “What they do care about is what you know about Al Capony. You see, Liberator was getting close to something. Then you killed him. Why should I treat you any different than him?” I ran the blade against his throat and across his cheek. I shaved quite a few hairs off, too. I dug a bit deeper and drew a little bit of blood, just enough to moisten the blade.
        “I'm... I'm... not gonna tell you anything!”
        “Too bad... for you, I mean,” I grabbed his left hoof and placed it in the middle of the table. I plunged my knife straight through it. He screamed like a little piggy. “I've always been fascinated by the anatomy of wings, care to donate yours to my study?” I walked around behind him, after withdrawing my blade.
        He panicked like crazy. “STOP! I'll tell you everything! I swear!”
        I wasn't quite done playing with him, I plucked a few of his feathers. “Well that's not what you said a few moments ago. How can I trust someone who goes back on their word so quickly?”
        “Please! Please, don't,” he started weeping. Time for phase two. I activated my green ready-light, signaling Pizza to send in Colonel Lockheart.
        “Oh, I'm not done having fun just yet-” The door clicked open and in walked the Colonel.
        “Time's up Joe, leave this poor bastard alone.”
        “But I'm so close!” I insisted, the whole world is a stage, after all.
        “From what I can see, so is he. Now get outta here and let me talk to him, not torture him.”
        The prisoner looked hopefully at the Colonel, then he looked at me. And I looked at him with a sense of longing for what I could do to him, striking fear in his heart. Then I looked at the Colonel, “Fine...”
        When I left, the guard locked the door behind me and a medic trotted into the interrogation room. By the Colonel's request, I'd assume.
        Pizza spoke, “Remind me not to piss you off.”
        “Ain't exactly something I'm proud of doing, but it'll get us closer to finding out whatever it was that got Liberator killed.”
        “Well, it sure looked like you enjoyed it.”
        “Gotta tell ya I've haven't taken any acting classes.”
        “Doubt it.”
        I headed for the mess, it's been longer than I'd like since my last meal. It would take a fair bit of time for the Colonel to get the intel that we needed, but he would get it thanks to my efforts. I figured that I should pass the time with some chow.
        The menu was less than desirable: hay, various types of flowers, grass, and some fruits and veggies. I opted for a pair apples. I tossed one to Pizza. Fencing and Starfire were already sitting down and enjoying their meals. We joined them, placing our helmets on the table.
        “Any scuttlebutt about what's going on in the rest of Equestria?” I asked the two.
        Starfire spoke up, “Well, I've heard that various new industries are popping up, particularly in the Manehatten and Hoofington areas. Something about 'firearms' whatever those are...”
        Apparently Spectacles and the Nerve Center were earning their pay, but that they weren't relaying their knowings about their tech. “Starfire, a firearm is something like my Magnum or Battle Rifle. Picture a naval gun downsized for personal use. From there, it can be optimized for various roles and operations, but it is no replacement for a blade. Bullets run out, edges don't.”
        Pizza spoke, “And what about you, Fencing?”
        “Well, from what I heard, it sounds like the war is either about to escalate or end. Basic firearms have already been distributed to lots of infantry units all across Equestria, but the Mafia has been intercepting a lot of those shipments. The Zebras seem to be amassing their forces for something. I heard that Celestia is going to try again at the peace talks. With hope, we can stop the fighting by Hearth's Warming.”
        “Amen to that,” Pizza said.
        “I don't think so, Pizza. Sounds like maybe it's a trap, I would send a full battalion to escort Celestia to the negotiation tables. Other than that, we've still got to stop Al Capony. Those warring bastards on the front need their guns.”
        We munched down for a bit longer until Lockheart rejoined us.
        He had something to say, “He was more than eager to tell me what he knows, or else I'd have to send Joe back in. He told me that he was working for a stallion named Baby Face, operating on the East coast, a place called Well-met. Know of it?”
        “Negative,” we all responded.
        “Aside from Marecago, Detrot, and Cloudsdale, it is the most crime-ridden town in Equestria. At least here the crime is localized to the slums and red light district. There, even the gated communities are a minefield. So what's the plan?”
        Time for me to strategize, “Let's get back in the Pelican, first.” The leak may be among us.

        We finished our meals and boarded the Pelican. “First things first, I think we should crackdown on the local law-breakers here before we move out. Get a nasty rep amongst the Mafia. Then, we'll inform the local guard and cops that we'll be following a lead to Well-met. The leak will catch wind and inform Baby Face about what's going on. He may then be panicked by our rep and plan an ambush in Well-met. We'll attack them there.”
        “Wait,” Starfire spoke, “Your plan is to have us walk into an ambush?”
        “Yes. They're expecting regulars, we'll be armored more than some destroyers. The ambush will bring them out into potential lanes of fire, from there, we'll take them down. We'll also detour via Canterlot and leave the Pelican there. Then, we'll head to Well-met via train and carriage. We'll tip off the leak about this, but leave out all mention of the trip to Canterlot.”
        Pizza wanted to clarify, “We'll be using their intelligence asset against them. They'll expect it to be a normal operation, but we'll be packing the game-changer. After the action, I take it that we'll gather up any survivors and interrogate them?”
        “Exactly, Pizza. We already have areas of operation for the crime syndicate here in Cloudsdale, we'll start with them.”
        Fencing spoke up, “What kind of armor will we have for the final assault?”
        “I'll radio ahead to Spectacles about that. I want it to be heavy armor that not even a .50 BMG can punch through, but I also want it to endure explosions rather well.”
        Pizza took over, “Picture it a bit like the Royal Guard's armor, then multiply that by five.”
        “That would weigh a ton!” Starfire pointed out.
        “Which is why it'll have powered joints, sorta like Mjolnir. It will weigh a ton, but to you it'll be light as a feather.”
        Time to get to action. “Is everything understood? Yes? Ok, then we've got to plan our attacks. We have two days to rend Cloudsdale of its organized crime. I think we'll start with the Mafia's supply lines. This AO looks promising here. Near the shipyards, with warehouses aplenty. That'll be our first target. To add dramatic effect and instill fear, I think we should use a unique name. Pizza, I think 'Crimson Guard' actually sounds pretty good, do you all agree?”
        Fencing, Starfire and Lockheart all nodded. Game. Set. Match.
        I radioed the info and team name to Spectacles, he said that he was already studying Mjolnir extensively and that he should have our armor ready in a few days. Just in time, too.

        The warehouses looked like Costco buildings from the 21st century, just minus the red and blue façade. I saw more pinstriped suits out front, these boys toting what looked like Thompson SMGs, converted for pony use. Because mobsters need Thompsons! Hopefully, I won't get around to hating the development of firearms in Equestria. I'll have to assume these guns were meant for the local guard or the CPD. At least they cleared them as hostile.
        I scoped out of the SRS99-S5 AM and placed it back into one of the Pelican's weapon lockers, “Pizza, take us right through the side of the warehouse. There are hostiles aplenty down there, and I'd like to have CAS indoors.”
        “Always the impossible with you, isn't it?”
        “There is no such thing as impossible, just impossibly difficult. Crimson Actual, you reading me?”
        “Loud and clear, Crimson One.”
        “Tap into the sensory systems on our bird and armor systems. That should give a good picture of what's going down. Direct us to high threat targets and objectives. Send us images of any criminals that may be operating in the area, too. Might as well classify this as a raid.”
        “Solid copy, forwarding information now.”
        A list of wanted criminals popped up on my HUD, I moved the pictures to the lower right of my display, the one corner not already in use. Pizza's ready-light flashed green, indicating he also received the images.
        “Traffic received. Much appreciated, Crimson Actual.”
        “Don't mention it. I've got live feeds running, I'll tell you what you need to do.”
        I closed up the back ramp and Pizza spun the Pelican around, charging forward. “ETA in five mikes!” he radioed.
        I turned to the other three in the troop bay with me, “Alright team, today we are about to embark upon the great crusade to eliminate the threat of Al Capony from Equestria's worries, planting him firmly in the history books. Many folk will be able to sleep calmly at night for what we are about to do. Remember: this is a daylight raid, so stealth is most likely not going to work. Our biggest advantage is surprise, but we will be outnumbered, by my estimate, twenty-to-one. Sounds like a fair fight if you ask me, but be careful regardless. I'll deploy a Bubble Shield as soon as we're in, do not leave it until I clear out a safe zone. Is that clear?”
        “Yessir!” three voices rang out in chorus. I chamber my BR, checked my Mighty Magnum, my frags and Thruster Pack. It's gonna be a hot time in the old town tonight! Pizza's ready-light flashed yellow. Three...
        It flashed again. Two...
        It flashed once more. One...
        Green! Go! CRASH

        The back hatch opened up on the Pelican, I tossed the Bubble Shield. “Lunar Guard!” I yelled. Sure enough, bullets started peppering the shield uselessly. I sprinted out, BR raised.
        The dust was still settling, but the Tommy Guns' muzzle flashes were more than visible through it. *BAM BAM BAM* *BAM BAM BAM* Double Kill! *BAM BAM BAM* Triple Kill!
        Apparently my muzzle flashes were also visible. Shields: ¾ and draining. I thrusted behind a wooden crate. The torrential gunfire didn't let up. Were they shooting blind? That's worse than stormtroopers!
        Then I noticed something: an amber fluid seeping out of the crate I was using for cover. Oh, yeah, alcohol and what not is what the Mafia is kinda known for. KaBOOM!
        A Hollywood-style fireball erupted and engulfed me. Shields: gone. Red warning lights were flashing inside my helmet, but luckily the fire didn't take on my armor. Alcohol does have a very low flash point, unlike my armor.
        The hostile suppressing fire wasn't letting up, so I primed a grenade. One... Two... Three... “Frag out!” KaBOOM!
        Another fireball erupted, this time engulfing the baddies. Their fur and hair went alight rather quickly. Those few that caught fire panicked and ran in any available direction. To conserve ammo, I let them burn.
        “Close Air Support online,” Pizza radioed.
        I spotted a group of mobsters that were peppering my armor with .45 ACP. It wasn't much, but it still hurt like hell, “Shoot where I'm pointing!” With my left hand, I pointed two fingers towards the hostiles and a waypoint popped up at their location. Pizza let loose a hail of rockets from the Pelican's wing-mounted arsenal.
        “Crimson One, this is Crimson Actual. Hostile HVI is leaving the building, take him alive.”
        I looked around the warehouse and spotted a suit making a break for a loading bay door. I drew the Mighty Magnum. x2 zoom came in handy here. I aimed at one of his forelegs. *BAM* the leg came off due to the Semi-Armor-Piercing High-Explosive 12.7x40 mm round. He stumbled slightly, then extended his wings. I aimed at the Margin joint on his right wing. *BAM* He hit the ground, his wing fluttering to the ground separately.
        His screams were drowned out by additional rocket fire from Pizza, “Commencing full rocket volley.” Additional fireballs erupted all throughout this warehouse from hell. I ran up to the HVI Spectacles pointed out. He looked panicked and was trying to crawl away from me.
        “You wanna live? Then stay still!” I opened a nearby crate and found some high-proof alcohol. It said it was 190 proof, the kind that'd knock you flat on your ass in fewer shots than it'd take a Magnum. I forced some down his throat to dull the pain, the I poured the rest on his wounds. I placed my hands on both stubs, and when my shield regenerated it ignited the alcohol, cauterizing the wounds. It also took my shields off for another six seconds, but what the hell.
        I would estimate he lost somewhere close to a liter of blood, quite a lot for a pony, I'd take it. The cauterized wounds didn't look like they were letting anything through, but the stallion passed out from the pain, even after the 190 proof alcohol.
        I noticed the gunshots quiet down. Looks like the Mafia here were eliminated. “Crimson Actual, I need a SitRep.”
        “All hostiles neutralized. There are still some survivors, I would advise you detain them. Marking them for you now. No friendly casualties to report.” A set of delta waypoints popped up across the warehouse. Pizza set the Pelican down. I found the recruited trio still in the Bubble Shield when it popped. I dragged the HVI to the troop bay. “HVI captured, we'll interrogate him when he comes to while we're en route to objective Bravo. For now, Alpha is secured.”
        The three nodded. Lockheart had something to add, though, “Joe, I think you're speaking wrong. Equestria's military operates using Able, Baker, Charlie, Dog, and so on and so forth.”
        “The UNSC uses the NATO phonetic alphabet, which goes Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, Delta and so forth. What you're talking about is more consistent with Allied forces during the Second World War. Just think of it as another wrench in the leak's operations. The police should be here soon, so pack up. I'll be the last to leave.”
        “Understood, sir.”
        Fencing had something to say now, too, “Sir, I think we should find a codename for this leak.”
        “Agreed. Let's try something like... 'Chuck Finley', how does that sound?”
        “Sound good to me.”
        “Then it's settled then. I'll get things here in order. See you aboard.”
        I tossed the unconscious HVI into the troop bay and started going from waypoint to waypoint. I got the survivors from our raid detained and against the wall just outside the warehouse.
        Time for some field interrogations. Most of them seemed out of it, “Tell me who you boys work for and I'll put in a request for a reduced sentence.”
        No answer.
        I pulled up the wanted list and went to the first one in line, “Con Ivory, wanted for cons, murder, bootlegging, and attempted murder of military personnel. Two known children. Estimated sentence: 45 years in prison. Estimated time until natural death: 19 years. If you help me I can have you re-designated as a police asset versus a criminal. That way, you'll be able to enjoy those last 19 years in peace, giving your kids a daddy, rather than spending it dropping the soap and getting a new daddy. Same applies to everyone here. Any takers? No? This is a limited time offer... Going once... Going twice... And-”
        “Wait!” Con Ivory spoke, “we work for Al Capony! We are... were in charge of distribution for his bootlegging operations.”
        “Sold to the highest bidder! Now, Con Ivory, I need to know where you got your weapons and who gave them to you,” I held out Fencing's map of Cloudsdale.
        He pointed at the CPD HQ with his nose and said, “There! They came from there. Junky and Illicit's crew got them for us,” He pointed somewhere else, “They're based out of there. A fortress if I've ever seen one. Be careful, and please, don't tell them I told you this, they know where my family lives.”
        I untied him, “Then run, and thank you.” I gave him an adrenaline shot before I left the others behind. He galloped off down an alley.
        Static, “You're not actually going to re-designate him, are you?”
        “I don't think I can, plus he has successfully evaded capture until now, so I think he'll be fine.”
        “Falling a little short on you word, huh?”
        “I'll see what I can do when I can do it. Until then, he did point at AO Echo as Junky and Illicit's base of operations. Can you get me intel on them?”
        “Right away, Crimson One.”
        The police had finally arrived, many looking worried and others looking somewhat pleased. The Chief of Police, Aero Bourne his uniform said, walked up to me. “Freeze!” he yelled pointing another Thompson at me.
        “Stand down, Captain. I'm with the Royal Guard.”
        “Then what in Tartarus are you doing here?”
        “We did a raid on this warehouse. Inside was substantial amounts of contraband, and many mobsters carrying advanced weaponry. No friendlies got hurt, these boys out here are all that survived the raid.”
        “What's your outfit, soldier?” Time to tip my hand.
        “The Crimson Guard, under command of Princess Luna. We'll be raiding other areas of interest in Cloudsdale all day, so expect to earn your pay. Afterwards, we'll be following a lead about Baby Face to Well-met via train and carriage. Other than that, have a nice day.” Our hand has been tipped, let's just hope Chuck Finley falls for it. I turned and jogged out of the area, leaving the police chief dumbstruck. I saw a few officers giving each other fist-bumps (hoof-bumps?).

        We were flying over to AO Bravo, so I grabbed the Sniper Rifle again for long-range recon. The HVI still hadn't woken up yet. I tied him to a jumpseat.
        Preliminary reconnaissance showed that the area up ahead had heavier firepower than the warehouse. HMGs lined the perimeter. I assumed the guns were meant for the EAF. It didn't seem to have that many ponies around the structure. Inside was anyone's guess, but they were all in pinstriped suits, matching previous hostiles.
        “Looks like the odds are a bit more in our favor for this one, guys. Given their firepower, I doubt the same plan will work here. I'll eliminate targets strategically from a distance, see if I can eliminate their watchmen before we advance inside. Pizza, bring the Pelican to one mile from the target area, at 2000 ft above them.”
        “Copy that.”
        I deployed the bipod on the Sniper Rifle and went prone, aiming out the back of the Pelican. The SRS99-S5 AM isn't meant for soft targets, so I'll have to be extra precise; critical vitals only. The rifle however, is meant for long range engagements. This range was well within the range of it. I scoped in. “Plug your ears,” I told the rest of the Crimson Guard.
        Pizza got the Pelican stabilized, so I started finding targets. The HMGs were my priority. I saw one guard walking a patrol route bringing him past the HMGs. He rounded a corner and started walking away from me, between a cinder block perimeter wall and the masonry of the building. BOOM
        He went down, and no one was aware of it. The round went up his ass and through his heart. A “Texas Heart-Shot” is how my uncle would have described it. I waited to see if any other patrols would come across his body. “Crimson Three, you're good with blades, right?”
        “Yes, sir.”
        “Take a machete from the weapons locker to your right, third one back from the front. Hop down there, and infiltrate that compound. I'll keep you covered.”
        “Alright, boss.”
        I pointed to Starfire, “Crimson Four, grab a pack of explosives from the weapons locker behind that. You'll remain on standby in case if Crimson Three needs evac.”
        “Wilco, sir,” Starfire said. She grabbed the mixed bag of explosives that I had packed back on the Infinity.
        I didn't see any patrols stumbling across my first kill, so I moved on to the nearest HMG in the right corner. It had a crew of two, so this was going to be tricky. It didn't look like they were gonna give me a shot for the collateral kill. Time to get unconventional.
        I aimed off to the side of the stallion on the right. I aimed at an armor plate behind him. BOOM The round went through the plate producing what I'd have to assume is enough noise to draw attention. The two crew got up and walked over to investigate it. They lined themselves up. BOOM Double Kill! Spot on.
        I aimed at the crew to the HMG behind the previous one. There was only one there, so I checked the other guns. All crewed by two. The other crewman was probably taking a piss, or AWOL. I spotted Fencing approaching the East side of the structure, the side nearest us. The left-side HMG crew spotted him.
        I took aim. They were getting a round chambered. BOOM Double Kill! Be the Bullet! Neat! Fifteen sniper kills!
        All clear for Fencing. He walked up to the security gate. The guard in the booth was asleep, and he had the keys. Good thing I have a masterkey. BOOM
        The lock on the gate fell off. I reloaded. The guard seemed to be stirring, but Fencing was already inside the booth. The machete went halfway through the guard's throat.
        I packed the Sniper Rifle back into its overhead locker and grabbed a Rocket Launcher. This was taking too long, anyways. “Crimson Two, when you hear two thumps, spin this bird around and charge into the compound.”
        “Roger.”
        I aimed at the two crewed HMG nests. *Thump* *Thump* Rockets away. The Pelican spun around quite quickly and boosted the whole way towards the enemy base. *KaBOOM* *KaBOOM* The rockets impacted a few seconds before we arrived at the far side of the compound. I put the Rocket Launcher back and grabbed my BR. I pointed to Lockheart, “Crimson Five, get in the 90 mm cannon atop the bird.”
        Lockheart nodded and began climbing up to the cannon control seat.
        “Crimson Four, on me!”
        Me and Starfire jumped out of the Pelican's back hatch as Pizza laid down suppressing fire with the Pelican's 70 mm rotary.
        “Crimson Three, we're providing diversion. Find and detain the boss of this base.”
        “Yessir,” Fencing radioed back.
        The building was a lot larger than I had originally anticipated. I would estimate it at five stories tall, and maybe a hundred yards by sixty. This may take a while.
        “Sir, I can't find a way in.”
        “Crimson Two, give him a door and some CAS while you're at it.”
        I watched the Pelican fly around to the East side, its M8C Grindell/Galilean Nonlinear Rifle charged up and blew apart a ten-foot-wide section of a wall. Its rotary spun up and reduced more mobsters to chum and paint.
        I looked around for hostiles. Nothing. “Crimson Four, breach the wall.”
        She walked up and piled a variety of explosives against the wall. I should teach her about explosives once we RTB. She is supposed to be our sapper, after all. *KaBOOM!*
        She didn't even give me a warning that she was about to detonate it, and my shields beeped angrily at her with a ¼ full bar. I thrusted into the building; I have shields (though little), and she doesn't.
        Fifty. Fifty pinstriped suits were inside the building, but not one looking my way, though many were turning. I take it they were anticipating Fencing's assault more than my own. Who expects hostiles to literally come out of the woodwork (or in this case, masonry)?
        Starfire seemed to freeze up at the number of hostiles. I didn't. I raised my BR. *BAM BAM BAM* *BAM BAM BAM* Double Kill! *BAM BAM BAM* Triple Kill! *BAM BAM BAM* Overkill! *BAM BAM BAM* Killtacular! *BAM BAM BAM* Killtrocity! *BAM BAM BAM* Killimanjaro! *BAM BAM BAM* Killtastrophe! *BAM BAM BAM* Killpocalypse! *BAM BAM BAM* Killionaire! *BAM BAM BAM* *BAM BAM BAM* click
        I switched to my Magnum *BAM* *BAM* *BAM* *BAM* *BAM* *BAM* *BAM* *BAM* click Twenty down, thirty to go. Starfire still wasn't doing anything. I tossed a frag and a smoke grenade. I probably shouldn't use white phosphorous indoors, but I needed to keep my team alive, dammit! I grabbed Starfire and pulled her back outside, behind the masonry.
        “So... so... many... es muy mal...” she was out of it, similar to Captain Cazador. I wasn't, which was just as good as bad. I grabbed her pack of explosives.
        Let's see: Anfo, Comp-B, C-12, Torpex, Bangalore Blades and Plasma explosives. And a FURY nuke (oh, it's so cute!). Apparently I did pack one of those. I attached the nuke to my armor, just below the Thruster Pack. Good thing Starfire didn't put this in the pile. Don't want to use that in a little scuffle like this!
        I grabbed Plasma charges. Not quite a Plasma Grenade, but Sangheili engineers use them for sapper work and anti-personnel roles. I rotated the arming knob atop the purple disc and tossed it like a Frisbee into the smoke-filled room. “Clear!” I yelled.
        Plasma charges like the one I just threw only explode outward in a ring-like pattern. Engineers use this to knock out support struts and, when it's airborne, it can bifurcate infantry clusters. These charges were developed after the Covie War, as the Arbiter's take on our Bangalore Blade, but as a demolition charge. *CZSHH*
        Back to the fighting, I rounded the corner, fresh mags loaded, BR up. No contacts on my motion sensor. “Crimson, be cautious on the first floor: smoke has been deployed.”
        I activated my thermal vision. I really should update my VISR for the locals, huh? Thermals showed several forms all around me. I was about to duck into cover, but I noticed something odd. They weren't moving.
        All the forms were prone and thirty of them were in two halves. Looks like its clear. “Crimson Two, cover Crimson Four.” I heard the Pelican fly around the compound again. “Crimson Three, what's your status?”
        “Just detained the HVI, and prepping for exfil.”
        “Are you sure it's the HVI?”
        “He was the only one pointing and nopony questioned his orders.”
        “Roger that. Stay put, I'll escort you out.” I walked outside and over to one of the HMG nests. It definitely looked like a Browning M2. I grabbed the top handle of the gun, then one of the grips near the back of it. I planted my left foot on the tripod mount, and pulled for all I was worth. Snap The gun came right off.
        I headed back inside with my 'field upgrade'. I could easily run as fast as normal with this because my armor still had the Gunner specialization for load carrying.
        I found the stairs and marched up the steps. Left... Left... Left, right, left.
        As I turned at one of the landings to head up another flight, a pegasus dropped down from above. *BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM* I blew off three of his legs, a wing, and bifurcated him all in one short burst. That's what I call more bang for your buck! Or this buck, I guess.
        I went through the door he jumped out of. Inside was lots of cover, but no hostiles. I glanced at my motion sensor. Roughly fifteen contacts on this floor and the next. I aimed at the first one on the left.
        *BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM* The HMG tore through the stallion's cover and right through him too. It even took chunks out of the wall behind that, too. Suddenly, they sprung the ambush. Ambushes are supposed to exploit an element of surprise, which they didn't have. But what they did have was guns. Lots of guns.
        But I had shields. Lots of shields. And a bigger gun. *BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM* *BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM* Double kill! *BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM* Triple kill! *BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM* Overkill! I was tearing them apart, literally! Viscera was decorating the halls like some cheesy creepypasta fanfic. Brain matter splattered all over my armor, and even a hunk of one pegasus's skull landed atop my head like a yamaka.
        CQC plus .50 BMG equals confetti. Better write that down. After the hail of lead, only one pegasus mobster was left crawling on the floor, having taken a round to the gut after it went through two of his friends. I estimated he'd have fifteen seconds left of life.
        It looked like he wanted to say something. I walked up to him, “You're... a dead colt! You have no... idea who you're messing with... We work for Al Capony!”
        He didn't have much time left. “Oh, I know exactly who I'm messing with. That's why I'm here. Goodnight, motherbucker!” I stomped down on his head. It crumbled like a watermelon beneath my boot.
        Looking up at the other radar contacts, an idea came to mind. I aimed the Mah Deuce upwards and fired. *BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM* *BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM* Double kill! *BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM* Triple kill! The last of the targets fell down, aside from the one next to the friendly contact. I assumed that was Fencing and the HVI.
        I jogged up to Fencing, “I'm impressed, you managed to bypass all those goons?”
        “Yup, and got straight over to Fat Pony over here, too. He's the boss of this AO. And I like the new look, very in-season.”
        “Oh, this? I just threw it together... Now then, I'll lead the way.”
        I escorted Fencing and Fat Pony out of the compound and onto the Pelican. I strapped Fat Pony down next to the other, now-conscious, HVI.
        “Fat Pony, this is River Bank. River Bank, this is Fat Pony. Play nice and I'll let you live.”
        They just rumbled and kept quiet. Smart.
        “Crimson One, we're approaching AO Charlie. What's the plan?”
        “Open 'er up and let's take a look.” The back hatch opened as Pizza spun the bird around and I took a peek. AO Charlie was directly ahead. It didn't look like much, just a collection of office buildings. Not fortified. Is our intel off? Maybe. It looks civilian. These were suspected AOs, not guaranteed AOs. “Just swing her down low and I'll step off. I doesn't quite look like the kind of structures we've seen thus far. Also, I'm not seeing any pinstriped suits. Crimson Two, stay in position for CAS. All other Crimson callsigns, keep an eye on the HVIs. I'm going in.”
        The Pelican went low and slow, and I jumped out the back, or rather walked. My boots hit the ground gently as I kept my BR at the ready. I calmly walked up to the front door of the building. Three stories tall, woodwork. Roughly 25 yards by just as many. If it is Mafia, it will be much more covert than their standard facilities.
        “Crimson Actual, what can you tell me about this building here?”
        “Oh, not much. It used to be used for newspaper printing before it was bought up by a... hold on, that's Sunny Capony's property! He's Al Capony's son. If you can capture him, Capony should come to us.”
        “Are you sure?”
        “The Mafia is focused on respect and family. Capturing Al Capony's son will damage both of those core tenets. They will hunt you down after that, from here to Zebrica if needed.”
        “How do you know this?”
        “It's all over the news. And it is public knowledge that Al Capony has a son.”
        “Alright, thanks for the heads-up. Crimson One out.”
        I looked at the front door. Oak, an inch and a half thick. Probably hollow, possibly not. Better test acoustics. *knock* *knock* Solid. I heard shuffling inside and some hoofsteps. Was that the secret knock? This building looked abandoned and I suspected as much. Apparently not.
        I put on the worst Sicilian accent ever (which was the best I could manage) and said, “Hey, Sunny, it's-a me. Open up, why don't ya?”
        I heard some locks start to slide out of place. How that worked, it beats me. Maybe Sunny was an amateur mobster still learning the ropes from papa?
        The door swung open and I had a large-caliber pistol pointed at my face. He had his tongue on the trigger. Static, “That's him, Crimson One.”
        I held up my hands and slowly putting down my BR, feigning submission. “Easy there,” I dropped the accent, “I don't want any trouble.”
        “Well, clearly you've found it. Come on in, I don't want this done in the street.”
        I kept my hands raised as I walked into the building. “All I wanted to do was meet the legend, Sunny Capony. Although Al may be the bigger name in the streets, I can see potential in you, potential that far surpasses Al's. I know you can do so much more than your father and grow your family into the kind of juggernaut that it deserves to be.”
        “Is that so?” he seemed to relax his grip slightly. Apparently I was flattering.
        “Ever since I heard of you, I've been yearning to be even a fraction as awesome as you. I just never thought I'd ever get the chance to actually meet you, I feel like I've won the lottery!”
        “Glad to meet a fan of my work, but what exactly are you, though?”
        “Me? I'm just a empathetic human who knows who the real legends are. My name is Mormon, by the way, but you probably knew that, am I right?”
        “Yeah, you could say that-” he set down his gun and I took my chance.
        I lunged at him, then thrusted around behind him at the last moment, grabbing his .45 as I went behind him. Using my free, right arm, I place him in a sleeper hold. He struggled and started trying to run around. I planted my feet and suplexed him to the ground, rolling right. He was on his side and tried to buck me with his hind legs like Keen Eye did some time ago. I just wrapped my own legs around his torso. He slowed and eventually stopped kicking.
        I released the hold, and tied him up with some paracord. Before leaving, I looked around at the offices here. Yes, there was still a printing press, but thermals confirmed it wasn't in operation any time soon. I walked around to what would have been the boss's office. Inside was something interesting.
        On the desk, files. But not just any files, files without dust. Everything else had a quarter inch of dust lining it, but this stuff was mint. Same thing with a large, black book adjacent to the manila folders.
        I looked at the files, one said 'Marecago Outfit', another labeled 'The Mustang Gang', and one more marked 'Ascension'. I looked through the black book. Dates, names, locations, and prices. Must be the ledger. I grabbed all of them, it would make for an interesting read in Canterlot.
        I grabbed Sunny Capony and my BR while I was walking back to the Pelican. Pizza swung it low, and I boarded. The other HVIs had their eyes go wide at my prize. I propped the unconscious colt up in a jumpseat and tied him down like the others.
        “He got Sunny...” I heard Fat Pony remark to River Bank.
        “Damn straight,” I said to him.
        Pizza got on the mic, “Next stop: AO Delta. Can you give us any intel, Crimson Actual?”
        “Umm... You might want to call off any explosive attacks, AO Delta is very close to the Rainbow Factory and Weather Generators. Apparently the boys there have been pressuring the CWC workers for 'protection money', only they don't actually do anything. All of Cloudsdale will owe you one if you can clear them out there. But the whole city could be destroyed if you hit too many generators; they're what keep the city airborne.”
        “Copy that: no boom-boom. Crimson Two, drop me and Three off just outside the weather facility, we'll hoof this.”
        “Roger, sir.”
        I needed to change my loadout for this. I traded my BR for an Energy Sword. Fencing still had the machete. I also grabbed the spare Hardlight Shield and tuned my armor with Recharge instead of Gunner. I also equipped a Trauma Kit instead of restocking on frags. I set up the Mobility tuning on my armor and checked my Magnum. Fencing was set to go from the start.
        
        We stepped off. Pizza took the Pelican away from the area and left us to our business. The sun was near its Western end. Twilight was minutes away.
        I activated the sword, “Let's sprint this.”
        I ran off to the waypoint Spectacles had kindly left me. Bad move. Four .50Cal HMGs had established a kill box right where I was standing. Fencing was gone, probably flanking. My Shields were halved almost instantly, so I brought up the Hardlight Shield. It held tough, deflecting the .50 BMG rounds with ease. Hmm... deflecting? Idea!
        I rotated the shield, using their tracers to figure out where the ricochets were going. I maneuvered them right into one crewman on the gun furthest to the right. His head exploded into paint, stunning the gunner for the briefest of moments. Just what was need.
        Fencing pounced the gunner. Note: machete beats M1911 knock-off, with surprise, in CQC. Fencing's machete went down into the shoulder of the rearing gunner, embedding itself halfway through his torso. The gunner's .45 dropped to the cloudy floor.
        The other three HMG crews clued in on this and turned their guns on Fencing. He ducked into the HMG nest, using its sandbags for cover. I drew my Magnum with the window the gunners gave me. *BAM* *BAM* Double Kill! *BAM* Triple Kill! I took down the right gun's crew and the gunner on the mid-left gun before the far left gun forced me to get my Hardlight Shield back up. My Armor Ability gauge said it was almost out of juice, and the shield turned red to confirm this.
        The other crewman on the mid-left gun manned the gun and started firing on Fencing, keeping us both pinned. My shield was about to give. “Fencing, on three! One... Two... Three!”
        I dropped my shield and raised my Magnum. *BAM* Middle-left gunner down. My armor's shields were gone lightning-quick, and the .50 BMG rounds started tearing into my armor. A few rounds penetrated, when they hit the gel layer. The plates were holding, though. Medical alarms sounded and I felt the cool rush of biofoam enter my body.
        When it looked like I was about to fall in battle, Fencing opened up with the far-right gun.
        I saw the machine gun crew that almost dropped me get torn asunder due to Fencing's new toy. I dropped to my knees. “Joe!” I heard the radio call out.
        “Don't worry, the gel layer slowed 'em down to roughly the force of a 9 mm. Regardless.... ow,” I responded. I laid down on my back, getting ready for some field surgery as I opened the trauma kit.
        Shit... I didn't restock this from the Caesar. I grabbed the last morphine syrette and pumped into an injection port on my armor. Much better. Man this stuff is good! The auto-doc never seemed to be stocked with any morphine.
        I got to my feet, feeling a few ounces heavier than I should. My shields recharged. Close Call! Gotta go into surgery after this op, maybe Luna could lend my the royal physician, if there is such a thing.
        I walked up to Fencing's HMG nest, “All better, but let's make this quick. I'm not sure how long that shot's gonna last.”
        “Yes, sir.” I guess it's not every day you get to see your CO get mowed down by HMGs and keep walking like nothing happened. Can't say it was my first time, though (in real life, not the War Game sims).
        We sprinted past the perimeter wall the HMGs were defending. Beyond was two parallel rows of bedding, and about a dozen pegasi in pinstriped suits who had just awoken. We didn't stop.
        Fencing went right, I went left.
        Poor Bastard No. 1 was fumbling with his sidearm: he didn't have it unclasped but was still trying to draw, regardless. *CZSHH* He had not cleared leather 'fore my sword had fairly ripped. He got to feel what hot plasma's like.
        The next one down the line didn't even have a gun, but it looked like he was ready to fight hoof-to-blade. I ran straight at him, he lunged. I side-stepped right and swung. *CZSHH* Double Kill! He was cut clean in half, or as clean as a plasma sword can be.
        *Bap* *Bap* *Bap* Bastard No. 3 had drawn and shot. He matched the HVI. I pirouetted and sprinted right at him. He dropped the gun, “Please, don't kill me!” Might as well do as he says...
        I jumped up and launched myself off of his head, sending him into the cloud floors and launching me skyward. Gravity pulled me down straight on top of Bastard No. 4.
        I landed, slashing horizontally, decapitating him. *CZSHH* I rolled straight under the headless horse, springing up to face off against No. 5. He had a shotgun. *BOOM* A single-shot 12 gauge shotgun. Shields: gone... again. *CZSHH* Double Kill! Another downward slash made short work of him.
        No. 6 was running away. *BAM* Triple Kill! ...was running away. Area clear, I walked up to the HVI. Close Call! My shields were back up to full. “Now, you're gonna come with us nice and quiet like, else we go slice n' dice on your ass.”
        “Ok, just don't hurt me!”
        I tied him up with paracord. “Crimson Two, this is Crimson One. Ready for evac.”
        “Headed your way now.”

        This new HVI goes by the alias Cloud Mad-dock, and was greatly hindering weather distribution across Equestria, focusing it on fields used to produce the corn used in alcohol production for the illicit distilleries in Marecago and Cloudsdale. With him out of the picture, weather services will be cheap, more profitable, and less biased.
        Sunny was going to be our bait for the Capony trap, and overall he hadn't done much. Just a little bit of counterfeit checks and documents here and there, roughly twice a month. He was also managing the finances of the Cloudsdale Mafia, which apparently is part of the Marecago Outfit.
        Fat Pony was in charge of illegal arms trade in Cloudsdale and had is hoof in every arms trading business in Equestria, both illicit and legal. With him gone, Capony's boys aren't gonna be getting any better firepower and Equestria's military will be able to fight the Zebra Menace more effectively.
        River Bank was in charge of the distribution of contraband throughout Equestria, using local delivery services and even the weather (in collaboration with Mad-dock) to smuggle his supplies anywhere they were wanted, so long as they were payed for in advance.
        The ledger revealed that a substantial amount of firepower had been sold to Junky and Illicit, the two brothers that were in charge of higher-profile activities of the Mafia in Cloudsdale. Often getting directly involved, these boys are murderers and everyone knows it. The only reason why the CPD hasn't cracked down on them, aside from Chuck Finley and their firepower, is their reputation: they are the most feared of all gangsters, aside from Al Capony, who is in charge of them.
        Junky and Illicit have a well-known degree of reverence for Al Capony and his Mafia, and they actually merged their gang with his Marecago Outfit by their own request. Junky is known to be unreasonable and psychotic almost always. His brony (bro and pony, apparently), Illicit, is the cold, calculating mind that focused the fury of Junky into the infamous gang they were known for. Illicit is just as dangerous in a fight, though. Maybe psychopathy runs in the family?
        Their island fortress in Cloudsdale was attacked on multiple occasions: thrice by the CPD (all with heavy losses), twice by the EAF (lighter casualties), and even the Wonderbolts (they broke the attack when they lost their previous Captain, and Spitfire took charge afterwards). Even a dragon, contracted by Celestia, attacked their fortress and was killed. They call the place: All-Can-Tries. An open challenge to Equestria, and grammar Nazis alike.
        Since then, they've upgraded the firepower of the base. And we're gonna take it. Straight into the maw of the Beast. I'm glad Spectacles sent us some files on Illicit and Junky, otherwise we'd be flying directly into the dragon's teeth. The two run the place, and I'd like to know what Capony's been having them do. The ledger only lists “Hit”, but not on whom.
        “Crimson Two, I'll fly for this one. It'll be an air-op.”
        “Good copy, getting in the 90 mike-mike.”
        “Crimson Three and Four, fly out onto the waist guns. We'll need the extra firepower. And don't forget to strap in, it's gonna be a bumpy ride!”
        “Yes, sir!” Starfire and Fencing headed out, taking the left and right guns, respectively.
        “Crimson Actual, mark all hostile guns in excess of 10 mike-mike rifle calibers.”
        “On it,” and about seventy “Eliminate” tags popped up on my HUD. This will be wild.
        Lockheart spoke up, “Sir, what do you want me to do?”
        I pulled up an HMG and mounted it to the back of the Pelican, then I handed him a medkit, “You'll be covering our ass and patching up our wounds. Chances are Illicit will send airborne infantry after us once we start to thin out their guns.”
        “Yes, sir!” he slung the medkit and grabbed the gun.
        Shit was going down tonight. Twilight had passed and the black of night engulfed the sky. I got to the cockpit and turned off all of the Pelican's lights. “Luna, you reading me?”
        Nothing. “Luna, how copy?”
        Still nothing. “Luna, if you are receiving, acknowledge immediately.”
        “I'm here... I'm just not familiar with this radio terminology.”
        “I'll get you up to speed with that if I survive this. Right now, we'll need the darkest night you can bring. We're about to assail a flying fortress, and could use all the help we can get.”
        “Of course, but what do you mean 'if' you survive'?”
        “I don't make promises I know I can't keep.”
        “Oh... the best of luck to you, then.”
        “We make our own luck. Crimson out,” I cut the transmission.
        “Crimson, sound off! One ready!” I broadcast.
        “Two ready!”
        “Three ready!”
        “Four good to go!”
        “Five ready.”
        “Actual reading you five-by-five. The op is live.”

        Lo and behold, Luna delivered; the night is black. No stars. No moon. Just an infinite, black nothing. If it wasn't for the waypoints, there would be no way to tell where All-Can-Tries is.
        “Crimson Three, Crimson Four, those waist guns have thermal optics on them. Use them and aim for any hot spots once I commence fire. Same for you, Crimson Two. Crimson Five, you'll need to rely on your eyes.”
        I accelerated the Pelican towards All-Can-Tries. I charged the M8C and took aim at the 36 inch mortar that was mounted in center of the fortress. That would probably be the highest-caliber weapon in Equestria, by my estimates. *BLAM* The 36 incher now had a very large hole in it. My thermals showed the other artillery guns slowly start to swivel around to face us. “Open fire!” I yelled across the mic.
        I switched to the 70 mm rotary. *BAWAAA!* Fencing and Starfire opened up with their dual 40s as soon as they could. *Pow Pow Pow Pow* *Pow Pow Pow Pow*
        Fires erupted down below, engulfing entire artillery segments. Several Eliminate tags were going dark. Some of the lighter, more dexterous guns down below started chucking up flak. I could only see the orange fireballs from their detonations. They were getting them closer and closer. Could they see us? Was it their tracers? But even then this was surprisingly accurate for this light level.
        Crap, they're probably following the glow from the engines. Time to do something daring.
        I spun the Pelican around on a dime, pulling 6 Gs force. Facing All-Can-Tries, our engines' glow should be concealed, but they would be shooting at a stationary target. An invisible, stationary target, given the black of night. 'Eliminate' tags were still going dark, and Pizza had a shot with the 90mm. *KraBOOM* I watched the shell streak towards a tag, then it went dark.
        We kept up the fire for some time, shifting positions every time their shells got too close. *BLAM* And dark went the last tag. “All heavy guns disabled. Crimson Two, prepare to disembark. I want your boots on the ground.”
        “Yes, sir.”
        I brought the Pelican in, fast and low. This was the last day Luna's cloud-walking spell would work, and we were gonna put it to use. Pizza bailed out. The fires of All-Can-Tries made anything close to the ground easy to spot. I stayed about 100 feet above Pizza, gunning down anything that tries to stop him. “Crimson Actual, pump Crimson Two's sensory data to my HUD.”
        “On it.”
        I saw a small video display of Pizza sprinting into the main building on the island. He kicked the door open, bringing his DMR to bear. He switched to thermals, spotting targets moving around down the hall to his left. Just as he turned and started shooting, an HMG behind him opened up. He brought up his Hardlight Shield.
        It looked like it was twenty yards to the right of the door Pizza stepped through. I took my best guess and ran wild with it. I aimed. *BLAM* I watched the Spartan Laser tear through the wall on Pizza's video feed. The HMG was destroyed. He turned around and eliminated the other contacts.
        As he rounded the next corner, a figure jumped him, knocking his DMR away. This figure had a knife and tried plunging it into Pizza's gut. He grabbed the Tango's neck, arresting the blade. He then grabbed the Tango's hoof, and spun him around into the wall behind Pizza. The Tango bucked Pizza away, knocking his shields down by half.
        The Tango yelled, “Play!” as he charged Pizza. Clearly, this was Junky. Pizza sidestepped him like a matador, then he drew his Boltshot. *Pew* *Pew* *Pew* Pizza pegged Junky in three of his legs, but Junky launched off his good hind leg. Pizza grabbed the psychopath in the air, spun 180 and slammed himself down atop Junky on the ground. I heard a few ribs break, but saw no medical warning from Pizza's side.
        Junky bucked Pizza over him and onto the floor. Pizza landed flat on his back, and Junky tried to land on top of Pizza. It looked like he was trying to take a bit out of Pizza's throat. Pizza brought up his Hardlight Shield at the last second, halting Junky's attack. Junky wouldn't relent, and Pizza wasn't dropping his shield.
        I took aim at Pizza's IFF tag. Charging... *BLAM* The Splazer tore through the wall and vaporized Junky. Pizza's Hardlight Shield just took it like a champ and he slowly got back up, retrieving his DMR. There was only one contact left in this building. I wonder who that could be?
        Pizza kicked the door to the main office. It didn't budge. I saw him draw his Boltshot again. He charged it. *KaPLOW* The doorknob and lock were blasted out of the door. He switched back to his DMR, and charged in.
        Inside was Illicit, sitting calmly at his desk. He had something in his hoof. “Hold you fire, Crimson Two. He's got something.”
        Sure enough, like all Hollywood villains, he decided to monologue, “Glad to see you face to face, whoever you are... whatever you are. I take it you got past my brony?”
        Pizza just nodded in the affirmative.
        “Damn shame, too. I was thinking about letting you walk out of here with your pathetic life in tow. But, alas, it seems we're both going to die here, together.” He held up a device of some sort. It looked like a detonator. “Dead-pony's switch. You kill me, this little ditty blows up the entire fortress. I hope you're not that eager to kill a professional in the same field of work as you...”
        “Crimson Two, I may have a solution, just keep him talking.”
        Pizza shook his head “no”.
        “Not one for many words, are you? Anyways, I was hoping...” I zoned out from what he had to say. I pulled up the Pelican's console and started hammering code out. I was using my patch to Pizza's sensors to tap into his armor. I'll try to rig his shields to distribute a localized EMP. That should disable the detonator. Several safety warnings were popping up and I was dismissing them just as quickly. And... bingo!
        “Crimson Two, your shields will distribute an EMP on my command, you just need to grab the detonator. Do NOT let him release that switch.”
        “... so if you help me with the guard, I'll help you with the whole 'not dying' thing. Capisce?”
        “Нет” Pizza responded in Russian.
        “What?”
        “Нет” Pizza slowly walked up to Illicit.
        “Is that a yes or a no? Or are you trying to say 'not yet', it kinda sounds like that...”
        Pizza moved like lightning and grabbed the detonator. I activated the EMP, which disabled the detonator at the temporary loss of Pizza's shields. We staved off the thunder. He probably had remote charges placed in the magazines to the artillery guns, especially the 36 inch mortar.
        “Hey! I'll blow it! I will! I am... not? But it's supposed to work!” He clearly wasn't happy. Pizza let go of the detonator as he repeatedly pressed and released the button. It wasn't gonna be working any time soon. I saw Pizza's shield recharge as he grabbed Illicit by the mane.
        I maneuvered the Pelican out front and tied up Illicit, securing him to another jumpseat. “We're five for five here. Good work team!” I called out to the rest of the Crimson Guard.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

“Sir, I would like to know what all this is about.”
“You will know when you need to know, Lieutenant.”
“Admiral, I think it may be best to let the Lieutenant know why he is here and what questions we need him to answer.”
“I’m in command here, doctor, and I’ll say what needs to be said, nothing more.”
“I take it you want to know everything, Admiral? Because I have a lot to say, and it should be best told it in its entirety.”
“Then stop wasting my time, Lieutenant. We are on the clock.”
> Ch 6 Game Changer
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	The long road home was complete with in-flight entertainment. We all took turns interrogating the HVIs we captured. I made it a point of identifying every inconsistency in their stories by flipping through Sunny's ledger.
        We single-handedly (or is it hoofedly?) brought down the entire Cloudsdale Chapter of the Marecago Outfit Mafia in a single day. Al Capony would be pissed, but Baby Face would be scared shit-less. If there is a leak in the CPD, then Chuck Finley would tell Baby Face about it. If not, we'll catch Baby Face with his pants down.
        Our legally-questionable interrogation methods netted us some more information about the Well-met Chapter of Al Capony's Mafia. Similar to how Sunny ran the Cloudsdale Chapter, the Well-met Chapter was run by Baby Face. He didn't have too complex of a network, doing most of the work directly.
        He stayed at large by doing lots of help for the locals, making it impossible for the police to get reliable information on him. The WMPD (Well-met Police Department) however, doesn't seem to have any sort of information leak. Baby Face primarily gets his revenue from shaking down ships that come to port. With Well-met being a massive port city, plenty of trade is to be had there.
        Baby Face's 'toll' doesn't detract much from merchant vessel's profits, but those that don't pay up are liable to get hijacked. Baby Face made the Marecago Outfit the first Mafia in the world to have a dedicated navy. The Marecago Outfit Navy protects the merchant vessels whilst they're in port, and the low toll and great protection makes business preferable to many merchants there.
        Baby Face however, uses this trade reputation to commence in acts of pony trafficking, international arms trade, body disposal, and smuggling of illicit goods. If it wasn't for that last little caveat I would probably leave him alone.
        His toll, though comparatively low to businesses, nets him millions of bits a year. He uses that money for his own business and for public projects like building schools, railways, churches, casinos, and paving roads. Of course, it is also used to maintain the MON fleet. Because of how isolated Well-met is and how helpful Baby Face is to the locals, very rarely are forces sent to crackdown on him, and those that do are constantly misguided by the locals.
        This will need to be a crafty operation.

        In Canterlot, we handed the HVIs off to the Royal Guards, who were more than eager to take them into custody. “I take it you had an eventful night on the town?” Celestia asked.
        “You don't know the half of it. Save Sunny Capony for us, we'll need him later. And between you and me, there may be a mobster working in the CPD, leaking information to Al Capony's mobsters constantly. I think I've found a way to rout him out. Just screen all mail coming from Cloudsdale for suspicious phrases and wording. I let slip to the CPD that I'm heading to Well-met on a lead. The leak will tell Baby Face about it, to give him fair warning. Also, I'll need a train to Well-met, preferably a freight car.”
        “This leak cannot be good news, I'll inform the guard at once.”
        “Don't. I'm not entirely sure if that leak is CPD or EAF. It was what got Master Sergeant Liberator killed, but he was in a classified investigation at the time. Only the EAF would know about that, but it would require a leak in the CPD to protect the Mafia as much as they were. I would screen the mail, call it a search for Zebra spy networks. Look for a letter mentioning both Cloudsdale and Well-met. It may only be hinting vaguely at the points, not being blunt, but subtle about the warning. Find the letter, find the leak. Same applies to Zebra spy networks, if they exist.”
        “I'll be sure to do that, Joe. And I'm sorry about what happened to Liberator.”
        “I'm not. I never knew him, but he was a brother-in-arms and he deserved better. His death allowed the Crimson Guard, my SF team, to take over the investigation. Because of that, and what intel he had gathered beforehand, the entire Cloudsdale Chapter was annihilated literally overnight.”
        “I'll be sure to make note of that to his family.”
        “Remember: don't name names. A single name from my team and the whole SF team gets routed.”
        “Understood, Joe. Thank you.”
        “It's always good to be helping.” I walked out of the throne room and made my way over to our underground base.
        “Starfire, Lockheart, this is your new home. The main operating base of the Crimson Guard. This here is Spectacles, you know him as Crimson Actual. And... Holy crap! Spectacles, you actually built the entire base while we were gone?”
        “Yes, I did! It turned out rather nice, if I do say so myself, but then again, I'm no architect... Why don't you go on in and check it out yourself? It is fantastic, I just need to wire up the Mantis and it'll be on an entirely independent power source!”
        “Belay that, Spectacles, we need the Mantis for a new op. So, what is powering this, at present?”
        “Oh, just the Castle. Recently the Nerve Center invented some neat stuff and their power generators are running said stuff in the Castle. I'm just intercepting some of the juice. Clever, huh?”
        “I'll give you that one, Spectacles. Come on Crimson, let's check out our new living space.”
        Inside was everything as Spectacles had laid out: mess hall, gunnery range, comm center (he called this “the Eye”), workshop, barracks, storage, reactor room, and a CIC. Looks like a full-fledged operating base, but underground like a fallout shelter. I like it.
        “Nice digs. Thanks, Spectacles.”
        “Oh, don't mention it, I was just doing what I always do: research and development. Only here I researched a bunch of stuff on the terminals you brought, and developed it immediately. Kinda nice, if you ask me.”
        “Well, I think the team's earned some rest. I'd say maybe... 3 days until we embark upon Well-met?”
        Everyone grunted in agreement. I think we've done far more than what was asked of us for the day. Besides, they did well out in the field, I just need to talk to Starfire about explosives. The local caverns should prove an excellent training area for such weaponry.
        “Starfire, I need to talk to you about something.”
        She walked over, “What is it, sir?”
        “From the last mission, it became apparent to me that you are unaware of how to properly apply large amounts of high explosives. I want to make sure you're up to speed on everything before we head to Well-met. We'll be walking into an ambush, after all.”        
        “I'm sorry, but that was the first time I've ever handled anything that goes 'boom' aside from some fireworks.”
        “Then we'll start there. Grab the crate from storage labeled 'HE', and follow me.”
        I followed her to storage and grabbed the crate labeled “Survival”. Pizza wrote “MacGyver” across the front with black spray paint. Of course he'd do that. I guided Starfire to a large, open area of the cavern. This would suffice as our new bomb range. Hopefully the residents of Canterlot don't mind minor quakes for the duration of our stay.
        “Alright, Starfire, first thing's first: cooking. In here I've got a bunch of neat supplies for any occasion. To the inept, it may seem like useless junk. But to the tactile, it is an armory. I want you to take any three items from here and weaponize them.”
        “Uh... what should I grab, sir? It looks like nothing more than ash, cake mix, and salt. And is that petroleum jelly?”
        “Yes, it is, and it's entirely up to you what you take.”
        “Alright, sir...”
        She grabbed some hardtack, the jelly, and the sulfur powder. You can't make a bomb out of that!
        “You done goofed.”
        “What?”
        “Let me show you some basic bomb making.” I grabbed the coal dust, sulfur powder, and salt peter. The ingredients to black powder. I mixed them together carefully, “Remember: don't go too quickly, else it will detonate prematurely. Slower is smoother, smoother is faster. Same goes for reloading firearms.”
        She grabbed the same ingredients and started mimicking my actions, “Slower is smoother, smoother is faster...” I heard her repeat.
        “Okay. Now that we've got a small charge, place it carefully in a plastic bag, then grab a fuse. Let's see what you've got.”
        Charges placed. I lit my fuse first. Ten seconds later, KaBoom. Next I lit hers. Ten seconds, KaBOOM! Damn, that was a lot of bang for not too much buck! Seemed she was a natural with explosives. Come to think of it, the comic blurb on her cutie mark could very well be an explosion that is breaking the board.
        “Excellent work, Starfire! You seem to have black powder down nice. Next: dynamite! Or something a bit more stable than that. Just put this mask on and we'll begin.” I handed her a gas mask.
        “Yes, sir, that was fun!”
        I reached back into the crate. “This is called methylbenzene, or Toluene, as many prefer. It can cause massive neurological damage when inhaled, so keep the mask on. We are going to turn this into something more harmful, so watch closely, and follow my lead.”
        She grabbed another bottle of Toluene, her eyes glued on my hands.
        “This is also a solvent, so don't touch it either. Now, grab a bottle of nitric acid, and a bottle of sulfuric acid.”
        “Is this going to be another chemistry class, because I hate chemistry...”
        “This is the fun part of chemistry they don't teach you in schools, and for good reason. Anyone who isn't a professional with this stuff can get seriously hurt by the slightest of errors. In fact, the folks who invented black powder actually did burn their house down with it. They were trying to find an elixir of life.”
        “Ha, shows them!”
        “As it will show you, if you don't pay attention.” I carefully mixed the three liquids together, nitrating the Toluene. She was a mirror of my actions.
        “Next, separate and repeat.” I managed to separate the now-mononitrotoluene, then re-nitrated it into dinitrotoluene. Almost there. “Are you ready for the next step?”
        “Sir, what exactly am I doing to this stuff?”
        “You are adding Nitrogen atoms to the compound, increasing the explosive yield.”
        “Alright, I think I'm ready.”
        “Next you just separate the mixture and nitrate it again.”
        “Just as before?”
        “Pretty much, but follow me through this, we are making high explosives here.”
        Everything went smoothly, and we managed to separate out the finished trinitrotoluene, something better known as TNT. We heated what we got into a molten state, then we poured it into various fun little molds. The molds we used were: the classic tube, an ice cube, a tiny dinosaur, and a box. Each explosion of her's was flawless (and I've seen plenty of explosions in my time).
        “Looks like you've got TNT down, let's try something with a little more application...”

        Over time, I had Starfire producing anything that went boom from T4 and C-12, all the way to anfo and torpex. She was a master at explosives, it just seems that she needed to know how to make them before she could strut her stuff. She even found a way to use unconventional ingredients in explosive manufacturing, like somehow using epsom salts in black powder or petroleum jelly in plastiqué.
        All that was left was for her to actually use this new-found knowledge in the field. I told her all I knew about the different types of charges and how explosives are deployed, but I was never a sapper. She would have to learn the rest out in the field.
        “Alright, Starfire, that's all I know about explosives. The rest you'll have to figure out on your own.”
        “Maybe we can make some fireworks around the holidays, huh?”
        “That would be great.” I noticed she stopped calling me 'sir'. Is this because she now views me more of an equal than an authority figure? Maybe. “Why don't you get some rest, I'm sure we've kept the boys up for a while now.”
        “Ha, I'll bet.” She flew off in the underground fortress that was the Crimson Guard HQ.
        I didn't have anything better to do currently, so I went into the CIC, next to the long range sensors. Still nothing, as always. I should just link this thing to my comm and save the future trips. Nothing else to do now anyways.
        While that was doing its thing, I accessed a terminal and patched it into my Mjolnir armor. “Time to update VISR,” I said to no one in particular.
        Using combat footage from my neural implant and anatomy files already on record, I managed to develop a model for VISR to identify. Now it should be able to identify a pony just as easy as it would identify anything else. How it determined friend or foe, I still have no clue, but it does. Normally I'd say “magic”, but that apparently actually is a thing here.
        Everything done, and the sensor patch finished, I figured it best to turn in for the night. It was 0300 already, so I should be able to get in my five hours. Kinda funny actually, I either get five hours, or twelve hours of sleep, but I can go just as long on either; roughly a week with proper motivation. Motivation just like Jango Fett's.
        I stripped down to the gel layer and found everyone else (save for Spectacles, who was analyzing some more UNSC stuff) already asleep on their beds. I found an open bed just down from Pizza and plopped myself down there. Nighty-night.

        “Spartans don't leave a job half finished, Crimson,” Palmer's voice rang out in my earpiece. I was back at Apex site, advancing on a Covenant portal network I needed to disable. I saw some UNSC crates to the left.
        “Dibs on Sniper!” I called out and sprinted over. The SRS99-S5 AM was a superb weapon. Apex site, I learned from my previous incursion, had long sight lines despite being cavernous and rocky. Captain Mormon lead Chief Petty Officer Richard and Chief Warrant Officer 5 Pizza up the hill and into the cave.
        We were somewhat new to the Spartan program, but definitely not green.
        I stayed back, being the Ensign with a Sniper Rifle. We were all trained for various weapons, but I had the truest aim. I heard gunfire from Pizza's DMR, Mormon's AR, and Richard's Lightrifle from around the corner. Some Covenant plasma fire erupted when I rounded the corner to meet up with the rest of Fireteam Crimson. I looked left and high.
        Jackal Snipers! *BOOM* *BOOM* Double Kill! Two down. “Ghosts incoming!” Mormon said.
        “This'll light 'em up!” Richard tossed his Pulse Grenade. *Whoowmpang* The pulse killed the driver of the first. Richard, having the Resistor Package, charged the second, ignoring the incoming fire and hijacked it. He didn't even need his Boltshot. Pizza was the next most adept at alien tech, so he hopped in the first Ghost.
        I ran with my Mobility Package, while Mormon was optimized for enduring heavy fire with the Shielding and Explosives packages. Hell, Mormon's armor was even designed to take heavy fire; he had the Soldier helmet, EOD breastplate, Air Assault pauldrons, Recruit vambraces, LG-50 Bulk leggings, and the Pioneer visor. His Brick and White color pattern really made him easy to spot, too.
        We reached an energy shield the Covenant set up... along with the patrol that was setting it up. Richard stayed back and peppered the Covie's cover with his Ghost's Plasma Cannons. Pizza was not so patient.
        An Elite stuck his Ghost, so Pizza boosted right into the hardpoint, bailing out before impact. The explosion was spectacular. As Pizza rolled back to his feet, my shields indicated I was being hit from behind. I turned to face the threat.
        We somehow missed a team of Jackals that were headed down. *BOOM* *BOOM* Double Kill! I made short work of them, and reloaded. Pizza also seemed to find some more Jackals on our left flank and was picking them off.
        Roland got on the comm, “You'll need to hit this switch here to overload the Covenant shields.” A waypoint popped up, labeled “Activate”. Mormon ran up and activated the button. There was a rumble. Rumbles are never good.
        Roland again, “Get out of there!” *KaBOOM*
        Incompetency at almost lethal levels. Not the first, not the last. Why couldn't it be the last?
        A massive fireball wrecked the shield. Mormon and Richard were caught in the blast. Mormon's armor took the hit in stride, and Richard's Ghost took the hit for him. For once, luck saved us from Roland.
        Without transport, we advanced on to the next objective. The Covies here were also dug in pretty good. *BOOM* Sniper Spree! Their Shade was offline. Mormon and Pizza rushed in to clear out the infantry (mostly Jackals and Grunts) and shutdown the portal while Richard stayed back to support me; Elite's shields can endure a sniper round, but anything on top of that will defeat them.
        Booyah! A General walked into view from the opposite side of the Shade. *POW*
        *BOOM* Down he went. “Objective complete,” Mormon radioed. He ran around the corner and took point. The caverns here were rather long...
        We were about halfway through the cave when- “Sniper!” Mormon called out. I scoped in. CZSHH *BOOM* What was that first sound? I scoped out. My God...
        A leader fallen in combat.
        The Captain was in two halves. A Spec Ops Elite was clutching the blade that did it. Everything was deafened, my vision tunneled. My heart raced.
        I did nothing.
        I locked up. My CO is dead, that puts me in charge. But he can't be dead, right? We've made it so far without any losses, so he can't be dead... right?
        The Elite collapsed quickly under our focused fire and Pizza's knife, but I didn't take note of who dropped him. I can't even recall pulling the trigger.
        “Mormon... are you with us?” I prayed more than said.
        “Not... for long...” he replied. My heart skipped a beat. He was still alive after that? “He... got me good. Did you get... the sniper?”
        “Yes, sir. We got 'em.”
        “Good... I guess my Regen Field ain't gonna cut it right now, huh?”
        “Sir, you're our medic. You're our commander. You're our friend, no... family. We're in this together. You will pull through... you have to!”
        “Nah... You're in command now, Joe. I'm sure... they're in good hands.”
        “Sir... I don't want to lose you...”
        “You won't. I'll be... expired, but I'll live on. You die twice, you know... With how painful this one is... The next one will probably be a paradise...”
        “What do I do sir? How will I lead Crimson?”
        “You just need to wake up, Joe. Please, wake up!”
        “What-”

        I awoke in a pool of my own sweat being suspended against my skin due to the gel layer. Mormon almost sounded like Luna at the end there. I checked my clock. 0700. Only got four hours in. I looked around, exhausted.
        Everyone else was asleep, so I went ahead and got suited up. Best to walk off the nightmare.
        Outside I found Luna waiting for me in the early morning air. “Did you sleep well?” I asked.
        “No, having seen your nightmare.”
        “So you can see my dreams, huh?”
        “Yes, but what were those monstrous creatures?”
        “Remember what I told you about the Human-Covenant War?”
        “Oh, I'm sorry.”
        “Don't be, we won. It's those loyalist fucks under 'Mdama's command that still think the war is on. They're the ones who killed Mormon.”
        “About that... he must have meant a lot to you?”
        “Hell, he taught me how effective an AR can be when burst fired, and showed me how powerful the Magnum really is. He was my Captain, I was his Ensign.”
        “You said you were family?”
        “Brothers-in-arms are brothers for life. That's why I still run with Pizza. He enlisted alongside me into the Spartan program. He found me after Harvest, but he wasn't there for the glassing. We hit it off like something special when we met each other at Miridem. He was a Reach native, so we've both lost our homes to the Covenant. None of us were there for Reach's last stand, though.”
        “What's Reach? And what happened to Captain Mormon?”
        “Same story: dead and gone. Reach, Epsilon Eridani was glassed in late 2552. It'll be uninhabitable until the 2580s, and that's with lots of terraforming efforts and generous estimates. Mormon was taken back to the Infinity for a full burial ceremony. Turns out he had no known family, they were wiped out in New Mombasa when Earth was invaded. Can't believe he kept that from us for so long...”
        “It must've been hard for you.”
        “The 19th century whiskey he willed to us made things a bit easier, but nothing has quite filled the hole he left. On Requiem we could cope with it by ignoring it. There was always something to do, no time to think about the fallen. Afterwords... not so much. I think that's why Palmer sent us here, as a retreat more than a mission.”
        “It seems that it has been anything but.”
        “True, but I'm a lifer for a reason, same with Pizza: we like the fight. Not so much for the war; that's terrible. We like it for the valor. Nothing can ever be so beautiful as a man volunteering himself so that no one else has to, because someone has to.”
        “Sounds... like an odd stance to take on such a matter...”
        “Hell, I'm the only one who wears blue in Fireteam Crimson. I'm just the rifleman of the team. Mormon was the medic. Richard was the tech specialist. Pizza is the CQC killer. Me? I'm a nobody compared to what they can do... did.”
        “I think it is best not to think about Mormon, to avoid the fright that is sure to come. Can you promise me that?”
        “Never. You heard his words: 'You die twice, you know'. That second death isn't some kind of reincarnation, it's his memory. When Mormon's name is uttered for the last time, he has then died his second death.”
        “I see, but how does this cope with loss?”
        “You should know that nothing can replace a lost loved one. It leaves a permanent hole in your heart, but it's a bit like a carving on a tree. It doesn't get any smaller, or hurt any less. It stays the same as when you first got it, only as you grow, it becomes a smaller part of you. Eventually, it is those losses that define you: who you loved, laughed with, and grew together with. Everything leaves a scar...”
        “I take it you've studied over this matter for some time?”
        “Countless hours, in fact. It didn't help that we lost Richard shortly thereafter, on our way to free the Infinity from Requiem. Him we couldn't recover. We didn't even have a second left to spare, and he was incinerated by a Knight Lancer.”
        “Sounds like an absolute nightmare to live through...”
        “That's what war is: Hell. I even seen a psychiatrist about Mormon and Richard shortly after Requiem. She determined that I have 'mildly sociopathic tendencies'. Just like the Spartan-IIs of legend. I'm not sure what she said about Pizza, though. When I checked the definition of 'sociopath', I fit it like a glove.”
        “That was probably disquieting to you.”
        “Not really. I was rather unsurprised about such a point. It was merely expected, nothing more.”
        “You have definitely been through a great journey. Hope things get better for you.”
        “The 'Great Journey' is what the Covenant was preaching about when they saw it fit to exterminate humanity. And things always get better.”
        “Oh... I'm sorry. I'd best be off, the moon will not raise itself.” Luna flew off into the the twilight sky. Funny, on Earth, it did. Two days until departure for Well-met. Hopefully the war effort was going smoothly now that Cloudsdale has been freed up.
        Maybe that's what I need... someone to talk to about all these problems of mine. A close someone. With an outside perspective.
        I'm getting too philosophical again... better RTB before some upper-class snob spots me wandering the streets. All soldiers in Equestria, by dual order of the Princesses, agreed to keep my existence a secret, at least until a later date. That day was coming.

        Inside I found Spectacles passed out at a terminal. The others were still asleep, so I scooped up the tired egghead and found a bed for him. He's definitely deserved the rest he's getting.
        Time for breakfast! Let's see what we've got: MRE, MRE, MRE, hardtack, MRE, and, ooh an MRE! I think I'll go with the 'not here' option. The sun was just cresting the horizon when I set out to see what I could snag from the Castle.
        The guards were easy to get by (I outrank them after all). In the main entrance, I turned left, and went through a door underneath the stairs to the upper landing. Inside was the royal kitchen, with only one chef. I guess MidRats aren't too common a thing here, then?
        The chef hadn't spotted me yet so I decided to play the stealth game with him. What? I needed some fun in my life! My prize lay close to my left: the royal fridge of delicious! It would surely tell the chef I was here if I tried to open it. I need a distraction.
        I found a saucer laying on the table between me and the chef. I grabbed it and tossed it across the kitchen, to my right. *Crash* It shattered and the chef immediately looked over to his right, at the broken ceramic plate. He started walking towards it. I made my move.
        I opened the fridge and found... nothing. Just more stuff I couldn't eat, but that which a horse probably could. I was honestly expecting cake. Mission failed. I snuck out of the kitchen and out of the Castle.
        Well, if I wanted the blandest food ever devised by man I could always settle for the hardtack. If I wanted something that actually has the luxury of flavor, I'd have to find it, and soon. Looking towards the horizon, I would estimate an hour or two before folks would start to wander about. Not enough to find anything that I could harmlessly steal. Maybe tomorrow? Tomorrow, I agreed with myself. Ha, 'mildly' sociopathic she said! Or is that insanity?
        I was almost in the base when I saw a thestral land next to me, cargo in tow. “Sir, requested supplies for the Crimson Guard, sir!”
        “That's me, soldier. You can leave it here.”
        “Yes, sir!” Something was non-standard about his devotion to duty; it was too great. Come to think of it, every thestral I've met is like that compared to Royal Guards. Better ask Luna about that next time I see her. I may want a thestral or three on my team by war's zenith.
        In the crate was a bunch of saddles with mouth bits and some sort of weapon system mounted to it. Not quite the armor I was hoping for, but a step in the right direction. I left the crate in the CIC, against the North wall, across from the long range sensor.
        I made my way to the mess, checking my weapons before entering, as is standard operating procedure. Colonel Lockheart was there along with Fencing. It looked like they were trying to figure out how best to eat the hardtack. It took me a while my first time, too. I grabbed an MRE.
        Beef ravioli! Oh yeah, luck is once again on my side! I tossed it into a heating packet and added some water, to start the chemical reaction. I let the food heat up as I found a seat next to Lockheart, across from Fencing. “I find that hardtack is easiest to swallow when mixed with a choice beverage. The thing is baked three times, after all.”
        “Why would anypony ever invent something like this?” Fencing wondered.
        “Well, there is a slab of the stuff in a museum back on Earth that has been around for 610 years. It's still edible from what I hear.”
        “Wow, what did they make this out of, nails?”
        “Flour and salt, mixed in water, then baked multiple times. Ain't delicious, but it'll last through almost anything. You can survive off of it for a while, but these MREs have everything you'll need to last as long as the meals do. Only an MRE has a shelf life of roughly three years, but I've seen 'em last ten with proper storage.”
        “So what's in one of your MREs, then?”
        “It's random nowadays. MREs are just stuffed into the same style of khaki bag. They've stopped labeling them once a whole regiment worth of REMFs started hoarding all the candy about a decade ago. Thus far, no one has complained any more than usual about them.”
        “So whaddya get in this one? And what's with the bag?”
        “I lucked out and got some beef ravioli, the bag is a chemical heater that reacts when wet. Makes most of the MREs much better.”
        “Beef?” both Lockheart and Fencing seemed to pause a little. Maybe they're stalwart vegans?
        “Yes, beef. What's the matter with that? Aside from this whole dietary difference across species.”
        “I don't believe I've heard that word much before. As I recall it had something to do with cows?” apparently not even Lockheart knew what 'beef' is. Probably because they're horses and it is a term commonly used in food.
        “Yes, Lockheart, it does. The meat from cows, specifically.”
        “You're eating a cow?!” now they both seemed shocked.
        “Different cultures, colts. Besides, the cows the UNSC has aren't sentient, unlike what I've heard about the local bovines.”
        “And you think calling it a cultural difference is justification for it?” Lockheart seemed hellbent on winning this culinary conflict.
        “Well, when you lose almost half of your species in a war, then you can tell me all about eating that which is well within your natural diet. You may not like it, but there are also some other differences I don't take too kindly about your culture for. And you're a soldier! Death should be no matter to you.”
        “I think it might be best if we just turn a blind eye to this... so long as you don't get any 'fresh' supplies.”
        “That would be the best course of action, Colonel. I don't intend on getting fresh supplies, either. Besides the heifer I'm chowing down on now is already dead. It isn't like not eating the beef will bring it back. You can't fix dead.”
        Fencing broke the truce somewhat, “What about our culture don't you like?”
        “The list is mostly nitpicks: you worship only one of your leaders as though they are a goddess, you have two leaders of equal rank, you're a monarchy of sorts, your monarchy is headed by princesses instead of kings and queens, you don't have much technology, there is no death sentence, and some things in your diet I just do not find particularly appetizing.”
        “Just drop it, Fencing. Every little cultural difference will vanish with all due time. As of now, it is no point to quarrel over; we're both on the same side here,” and Pizza entered the fray.
        All of us just nodded at what he had to say, then went back to our meals. Lockheart and Fencing finally took my advice on the hardtack and were dunking it in some coffee. Pizza had something to say, “Spectacles is up and tinkering away. He said that since the guns arrived, he'd like the team to test 'em out for him. I was also thinking that we should give the kill-house upstairs a good breaking-in. What do you think?”
        “Sounds like a plan to me. Is it ready for CTF, or should we grind the grunts?”
        “It's set for CTF, but I was thinking we should run through multiple different exercises.”
        “Agreed. Maybe we could do VIP, CTF, then wrap it up with something like Infection?”
        “You're the boss,” Pizza knew that also discouraged me.
        “Fair enough. I'll check up on Spectacles, you set up the war games.”
        We finished our meals, then left the mess. Pizza took the stairs up to the kill-house and I went right, towards the workshop. The racket inside told me Spectacles was eagerly at work. I wouldn't be surprised if he woke the entire team. I'll add soundproofing as soon as he invents it.
        “Howdy, Spectacles. What are you making this time around?”
        “Oh hello, Joe. I'm building the armor you requested, but I can't seem to solve this whole power problem. The joints require more power than can be carried via batteries in the armor. How does your armor do it?”
        “Mjolnir uses a nuclear fusion reactor for power. Too bad Equestria doesn't have that kind of tech yet. Maybe you could use some sort of magic crystal instead?”
        “Oh, don't be ridiculous... You can't have unicorn magic in crystal form... unless...”
        “Unless what, Spectacles?”
        “Well, when I checked over Zebra culture, I noticed it mentioned they used talismans, enchanted gems, as their own means of magic. There are a wide variety of enchantments, but I'll need to find out how to enchant something first. I might get the armor done ahead of schedule if that is the case.”
        “They look like something from Hobart's Funnies; not the most aesthetically pleasing, but functionally superb. You get those enchantments figured out and then we'll be in business.”
        “Yes, sir. This is going to be fantastic if it works, if not, then it'll be exciting!”
        I left him to tinker on his own. I grabbed the new guns he moved down here. “Are these those new prototype rifles you mentioned a while back?”
        “Yes, that they are! I designed them based off of a saddle. I think Equestrian infantry should be able to handle that adequately enough.”
        “How do they work, aside from how guns normally operate? We may need to use these sooner than you think.”

        Sooner it was. Capture the Flag! I was leading Alpha squad against Pizza's Beta squad. The team was locked and loaded with TTR rounds. We had the time limit set to five minutes, I'd like to make this fast.
        The spawn room shields dropped and I rushed out of Red Base, heading right, to the MG nest. The gun wasn't there, but it was still a hardpoint. I saw Fencing and Spectacles head opposite of me, through the CQC area. I waited, camping out our flag.
        I looked from left to right, hearing pockets of gunfire erupt from beyond the wall to my front. Spectacles walked out, covered in paint, he dropped down via the flag, as the spawns were strictly one-way. He'd have to clean off that paint before he could re-enter via Red Base (that's how we determined it best to respawn). I looked right just in time to see Starfire duck back behind another wall. I dropped down from the hardpoint.
        I saw a paint grenade fly through the air towards where I was. *KaBOOM* Definitely Starfire's work. I saw her run around the corner, assuming I was fragged. *BAM BAM BAM* She took three TTR rounds to the face. Ouch...
        I heard some hoof steps from my left. I spun around and took aim. Fencing. “Sir, I got Pizza, but think they'll try a flank next. What's the plan?”
        “Push through to their flag, I'll escort you there, then we split up on the way back. They'll have to go through us to capture our flag. Spectacles should be back soon anyways.”
        “Yes, sir.”
        I pointed forward, through where Starfire had come from. Fencing took the lead. I followed.
        *Ratatat!* A three-round burst from one of Spectacles' new guns struck Fencing in the flank, chest, and ear. Not very accurate, if you ask me. It sounded similar to the MA5D.
        I pressed my back up against the wall Fencing had passed through. I watched him trot on by. I studied the impacts.
        All three shots came from the same rifle. Given the areas hit, the Tango would have to be pressed against the same wall I am. I rounded the corner, BR raised.
        *BAM BAM BAM* Kill confirmed, Lockheart: KIA. He walked back to the Blue flag. Just to the right of my objective was the Blue spawn room, and Pizza and Starfire walking out of it.
        I used my Thruster Pack to close the distance- *BAM BAM BAM* Double Kill! -firing at the further target during the boost. Pizza went down, seeing as shields weren't allowed just yet against the recruits. Now it was Starfire and I in CQC, not Pizza (I'd be screwed if that were the case!).
        Starfire swung a right hoof at me. I blocked it with my left arm and fire the BR from the hip with the right. *BAM BAM BAM* Triple Kill! She went down again. I sprinted along with Pizza and Starfire towards the Blue flag. No loitering was allowed in the enemy base, so it was grab and go.
        Flag Taken! I had to sling my BR to carry the flag, but my Magnum would prove an excellent replacement. I ran back as fast as I could. En route I saw Spectacles, who promptly started following me.
        Gunfire popped behind me, Spectacles taking a few rounds that had my name on 'em. Almost there... Flag Captured! Game Over! Victory!
        Bingo. I dropped down to the lower level and found Fencing almost done cleaning the paint off his ass. “We won that match right quick, huh?”
        “Oh yeah, and it was FUN! What's next, sir?”
        “Once everyone else gets here, we can give you the rundown on what's to come.”

        Infection! The Red Base's shields dropped and I rushed out, Pizza by my side. We flanked to the left, into the CQC area. I hid in one dead-end room, Pizza in another. It was us two versus Fencing, Starfire, Spectacles, and Lockheart. Their mission was to eliminate the instructors, ours was to survive for five minutes.
        No respawns for us, unlimited for them. Since when was that fair? We sat in silence. I regulated my breathing like a sniper to slow my heart. The reduced noise from breathing should make me harder to find, but this wasn't a big area. I was pressed against the wall, next to the doorway.
        I could hear hoofsteps passing by... nearing... nearing... right there! Fading... fading... They passed. *tink* sounded like a grenade bouncing off the floor... oh, crap! *KaBOOM*
        Infected! My armor was covered in red paint. I slung my BR and walked out of the room, exaggerating my footsteps so Pizza could hear. Sure enough, Starfire fragged me, but Pizza knew as much. Lockheart was also out there.        “Excuse me, Colonel,” I said as I passed him, hoping Pizza could hear his rank and note his location.
        I was down with not even a minute off the clock. I was slipping! Pizza was still up there, somewhere. I had to stay down here until one side won.
        “Glad to see you, Joe.”
        “Luna, good morning.”
        “Judging by the explosions, everything is fine?”
        “Yes, ma'am. We're just running through some combat sims, getting ready for heavier combat. So what brings you down here?”
        “I was hoping you could come with me to the Shades, the home of the Night Guard.”
        “I was wondering, what's with the Night Guard? I don't mean bad by it, I'm just curious about why they seem far more dedicated than the Royal Guard.”
        “That would be due to the recruitment process. Ex-cons and those with nothing left. I give them a chance at what they thought they could never have, and they serve loyally for it. I covertly monitor their dreams prior to selection, then give them the location of the Shades in their dreams. Nopony actually knows its location aside from the Night Guard.”
        “So why do you need me in the Shades?”
        “There is a new spell that needs to be tested, and I was hoping you'd volunteer.”
        “You know it. So what does it do anyway?” we started walking out of Crimson HQ.
        “It's a transmogrifying spell. It should change the subject into a pony.”
        “Sounds painful enough. I take it you think this will make everything a lot easier for me to do covertly?”
        “That is correct, though I made sure the scientists there already have a reverse spell figured out, in case if 'things go South', as you would say.”
        “That I would. Glad to see you've got a Plan B ready before Plan A begins.”
        “The only caveat of it is it needs a sample subject to turn the target subject into, and that it requires about as much magic as that individual possesses to cast it. Reversing it is easy enough, and can be done at any time.”
        “So I take it that I won't be an alicorn?”
        “Only if Celestia were to cast it could it work like that, so no. There is already a volunteer in the Shades, waiting for your arrival.”
        “How long do you think this will last? I planned on having some more vigorous training with my team.”
        “It will take several days, five at the minimum.”
        “We're supposed to take down Baby Face in Well-met in two, and that's counting today. The current war game ends in two minutes, and I also plan on bringing down Al Capony later this week. Later would be fine with me, but right now I do have higher priorities than testing.”
        “Understood, Joe. When you're ready, come see me... alone.”
        “Alone?”
        “The Night Guard is a rather exclusive group, and I want to keep those who know about the Shades to a minimum. Plus, I have my reasons...”
        “Oh, well then, milady. Ahem. I'll let you know as soon as I'm ready. I eagerly await the day...”
        “I didn't mean like that! Different reasons!” we were both red-faced with that little bit of conversation. I'm not entirely sure how that kind of relationship would work out, though. Unless if it was after the transmogrifying spell. Creep factor: 8.3.

        VIP Killed! Game Over! Defeat! Just what I expected having Spectacles be our VIP. He definitely was not fit for combat. He got two betrayals and no kills during the instructor elimination round and in this round of VIP.
        That was, however, our last competitive kill-house war game. “Pizza, reset the kill-house for noncompetitive play. I'll take everyone to the range to better their firing discipline.”
        “Right away, Joe!”
        This time I had the team load up with FMJ. Thinking back on Spectacles' shoddy performance, I probably should walk through basic weapon safety before we engage some traffic cones. We didn't didn't have any cardboard cut-outs yet, but we do have a surplus of otherwise useless traffic cones. I like to call one of 'em Skiddy (he's evil).
        “Alright, ladies, listen up. I take it that this is your first time handling an actual firearm, so I'll walk you through basic weapon safety. Any questions?”
        Fencing spoke up, “Sir, is this anything like handling a crossbow?”
        “I'm not sure, I've never handled one of those archaic devices. Best to pay attention then.”
        “Understood, sir.”
        I showed them how to secure their weapons: safety on, eject magazine, cycle bolt, and lock the bolt if you like. Next I showed them never to put your finger on the trigger unless if you want to destroy whatever is downrange; they were using mouth bits instead, but the principle holds strong.
        “Since our weapons are already secure, let's go through basic maintenance as well.” I showed them how to remove the locking pins, allowing the upper and lower receivers to detach, splitting the weapon in two. Next up: Pull the charge handle back slightly, then remove bolt carrier. The charging handle followed shortly thereafter.
        Then I walked them through removing the buffer and spring. Then we returned to the bolt carrier and removed the firing pin, “This is what makes the magic happen... not your kind of magic, the fun kind.” The I walked them through removing the cam pin and bolt from the bolt carrier. Finally I removed the extractor from the bolt. “And that's that.”
        Starfire spoke, “Seems rather complex for a weapon system...”
        “Trust me, these things can kill with a single well-placed shot. The sharpened sticks the Royal Guard was using before just won't cut it. This firearm is your life on the battlefield. It will be the bane of your enemy, and the pity of your comrades, so long as it keeps running.”
        “I take it a single one of these guns can have a single soldier rival an entire fusillade of Neighpolean's finest,”         Col Lockheart commented.
        “That is correct, and these are only small arms. The more advanced stuff, or even the heavy stuff, could decimate an entire regiment. Hell, Fencing, you've seen us stave off an entire invasion fleet with just a laser, a cannon, and a few autocannons.”
        The team all nodded in agreement, having seen what we can do at All-Can-Tries.
        “Crimson, just make sure you keep these parts clean, well-oiled, and in good repair. Dirty: it jams, most commonly when you need it not to. Dry as the Sahara: it'll seize up and shut down. In disrepair: it'll literally blow up in your face. A poorly maintained weapon is more dangerous to yourself than a frag in your foxhole. Trust me, I've heard stories about a teen who survived two frags before body armor was commonplace.”
        “Must've been standing way far away...” Starfire commented.
        “He was right on top of them, something about the black sands of Iwo Jima saved him. His buddies found him a couple days later, and he lived on to be the only person to enroll as a freshman in highschool who had received a Congressional Medal of Honor, but that was 600 years ago, not today.”
        “Wow...” the whole squad was awestruck at that piece of ancient Earth history.
        “Don't get any ideas: he broke more than a few ribs. Anyways, get a cleaning kit and scrub your weapons down, then we'll rendezvous at the shooting range.” I cleaned my weapon with the kind of speed and autonomy from a thousand practiced drills and field deployments. It only took me about a minute.

        I was popping rounds downrange when Starfire walked in, weapon sparkling clean. She seems to learn rather fast, compared to the rest of the squad... we're getting a little bit too big to be called a squad for much longer, huh?
        “Five minutes, not bad for only having been around firearms as of today.”
        “Gracias. What are we doing now?”
        “At present, we're going to be trying to take down some rather close targets: traffic cones for now-” click “and it looks like it's your turn on the range. Since it is your first time with live ammo, I would recommend more caution than normal for you. Keep your weapon pointed downrange until you run out of FMJ ammunition.”
        “Sir, what does FMJ stand for?”
        “Full Metal Jacket. It uses the standard lead core, coated in copper, because the high-velocity propellants used in smokeless ammunition burns hot enough to melt lead, but not copper. It minimizes penetration, but unlike other ammo types that minimize collateral damage, it isn't banned from war.”
        “Ammo types?”
        “There are several different ammo types: FMJ, Armor Piercing, Shredder, Depleted Uranium, Explosive, Incendiary, Wad Cutter, Boat Tail, Tracer, Sabot, HEAT, Taser, Jacketed Soft Point, Hollow Point, Tandem Warhead, Shaped Charge, Napalm, Slugs, Buckshot, Flechette, Dragon's Breath, Bolo, Rhodesian Jungle, Pitbull, even full-sized arrows, Harpoons, Rocket Ball, Frangible, and just about any combination of those, too.”
        “Sounds like a lot of variety in a small little package!”
        “And that's not even a full list. Most of that stuff is for other weapon systems, but we'll get around to them eventually. For now, we'll be using FMJ, the least spectacular of all the ammo types.”
        “Aww, and I thought I was going to have to get some popcorn...”
        “Nah, we'll be having too much fun for that stuff. Come on up, I'll walking you through proper shooting techniques.”
        She came up, aimed downrange, and got ready to fire. I did my best to adapt my knowledge of shooting stances to that of equines. Progress will be made!
        I had her take a steady stance, something that could absorb recoil just fine. Then I had her sight her target before engaging. There were only three cones, so I decided to call out which one she should shoot. I couldn't think of anything else for equine weapon handling, they physically cannot easily get in a poor firing stance, being quadrupeds.
        “The one in the back,” I called out.
        Ratatatatatatatatat!
        “Cease fire! You're way off target, plus you need to fire in short, controlled bursts. Ammo is the other precious metal, and you'll need every last ounce of it in the fight.” She hadn't even hit the 100 yard cone with that burst. This time I decided to keep a closer eye on her during the shooting.
        “Engage!”
        Ratatat! Ratatat! Ratatat!
        Miss, on all counts. She was closing her eyes when firing, and she was tensing up while pulling the trigger. Double foul, ref. Red card! Red card!
        “Alright, Starfire, there's a few things wrong here. I can tell firearms aren't your forte. Look at me this time, closely.” I grabbed my BR off my back, slapped a fresh mag in, and took my helmet off, she'd have to see my eyes for this.
        I shouldered my rifle, aiming down its sights. “First: I noticed you were tensing up while pulling the trigger. This will cause your shots to go wild. Do not anticipate the recoil, your stance will handle that.” *BAM BAM BAM* And the cone took three hits. “Additionally, don't close your eyes when you pull the trigger, keep both open: one for the sights, the other for situational awareness. If you close 'em, you may end up hitting friendlies.” *BAM BAM BAM* Another three hits. “Your turn.”
        Ratatat!
        She took to my advice well, her burst put three new holes in the furthest cone, but I didn't need to be sniper to see that she had a wide grouping. “I hit it!” she let out a cheer.
        “That you did, but your precision is lacking, and I would consider this close-quarters. That is not a good thing. Tell you what, sometime I'll take Crimson to the Whitetail for some longer-range practice.”
        “That would be great!” she seemed rather happy at having hit something. Fencing joined us and I had Starfire secure her weapon.

        Everything was pretty much the same for the whole team, only worse for Spectacles who kept on saying he'd never have to be a skilled marksman, being on-base the whole time, and better for Lockheart who took to it like a duck to water. Pizza had finally set up the targets upstairs and found us in the range. Pizza and I have been working together for a couple decades now... Maybe we could demo some of the heavier guns we've got? That'd be perfect.
        “Pizza, you up for some HMG practice?”
        “Hell yeah, Joe. You know me.”
        “Alright Crimson, pay attention. Some of you may end up needing to man a Machine Gun at some point in this war.” That caught their attention. They gathered to our left and right, Pizza behind the trigger, me feeding the ammo. We were prone for this one. “Now, in the field, if you're manning one of these things, a lot of bad folk would really like to change that and it is paramount that they don't. An important part of this is minimizing your cross-section, or how much can be seen of you.”
        I overlapped my right leg with Pizza's left, “This is a position I prefer for both MG and Sniper work. It keeps the crew very close, making the overall crew smaller and harder to see. Another thing: you need to keep feeding the rounds into the MG. It may seem like it'll do it automatically, because it will, but it is likely to jam when doing so. I would recommend a crew of three: one for the gun, two for the fun, and three for the spree.”
        Pizza translated that last part, “One to keep the gun firing, another to feed the ammo and minimize jams, and a third to get extra ammo. Now, it is possible for one man to perform all of these actions alone, but not indefinitely.”
        “Lockheart, call out the targets you want us to engage.”
        “Right,” he called.
        Pizza grabbed onto the Traverse and Elevation controls and moved the gun on target. *BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM* The cone was obliterated. Minus one surplus cone. I called back to the team, “Keep in mind that only an idiot freely spins a stationary gun around. It has something called the T&E which is used to aim it. This gun's max range is roughly five miles, but don't expect to kill anything at that range, it's mostly just for suppression at that point.”
        Pizza had something to add, “If it is a Light Machine Gun, it might not have a T&E, so just go nuts. Also, if the baddies get within spitting distance, I would recommend you move the gun. If you've been runnin' the thing hot, you'll need a bit of assistance to move it about, either that or you could just man up, like this.”
        Pizza stood up, slipping past my leg and picking up the HMG. He had the right trigger grip in his right hand and the carry handle in his left. He carried the weapon around with more than a fair amount of effort. The gun weighs 130 lbs, if you count the ammo box on its side.
        “Normally you would take it apart, but if you're strong enough, the carry handle is plenty.”
        *BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM* *BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM* There goes our last traffic cones...
        “Keep that in mind, Crimson. The Mafia in Well-met will be dug in, and may have looted a few of these guns off of some shipping. Your armor may not be able to take their firepower for too long, so stay behind me when the time comes,” I said.
        “Until then, the range is open for you, so you'd best use it while you can. Find a speck of something and aim for it, and then try to stack your rounds on top of one another. Be safe, be lethal. And remember when reloading: slower is smoother, smoother is faster,” Pizza added.
        “Spectacles, you're with me, we need that armor done by tomorrow.”

        The rifle reports kept on reverberating throughout the base, but in the workshop was a fighting work of art. It looked like some ancient concept of power armor, maybe 21st century US Army projections. It didn't use synthetic muscles like Mjolnir, but powered joints like the Cyclops, allowing anyone to operate it if they knew how (which I did, if it was anything like a Cyclops or Mantis).
        “Is it finished?” I asked Spectacles.
        “Yes, and another is almost done, but I don't think I'll have enough resources for a third, let alone a fourth. Equestria is just starting to industrialize, after all, so a lack of Titanium AA and hardened steel alloys is understandable. So what do you think?”
        “It still looks like it belongs in the Hobart's Funnies: downright fugly, but functional beyond belief. It looks like it'll get the job done, though. But for the lack of suits, I guess you and Fencing will stay behind for the trip to Well-met. You'll play the commander role again, and I guess Fencing will just relax for the time being. Once the other suit gets finished, we'll run a live-fire exercise in the kill-house. I want to be sure that they can take heavy fire...”
        “Yes, but they are prototypes, so I do plan on making several upgrades to it. The final version will be much more like Mjolnir. Just be sure to tell me all about how they perform, it'll help further development. Ooh! I'm getting my inventions field-tested after just two days of them being finished! This is exciting!”
        “Glad to be helping. Pizza, go get Starfire. I want to see how she can handle the powered assault armor.”
        “Right away, Joe.”

        I walked Starfire through what I knew of Power Armor, specifically of the Cyclops. It seemed I was all tutorials today, huh? Anyway, it took her some getting-used-to, but she eventually managed to maneuver in the armor quite nimbly. Not very dexterously nor fast, but her strength and endurance were greatly amplified, though she couldn't use her wings in it.
        Time for another test.
        “Alright, Starfire. I'm going to shoot you to test the defensive plating on the armor. I want to make sure it can take a hit before it has to. Are you ready?”
        “Wouldn't it be easier to shoot it with me out of it?”
        “Yes, but you wouldn't know what it's like to actually be shot, plus the armor may translate forces through to the operator. This would be a big problem in Well-met. I'm not going to go for a lethal hit, just one on your hind, left leg.”
        “Why the leg?”
        “If it comes down to it, you could remain in the fight as an airborne asset even without all four legs working, plus your forelegs are used much more commonly than the hind legs.”
        “Well, I guess I'm ready then...”
        I loaded an FMJ round into the Mighty Magnum, double checking it was there in the chamber. The mobsters wouldn't have access to quite as diverse a set of ammo as we would, so I estimated FMJ, the same kind I encountered in Cloudsdale. “Alright, on three.
        “One-” *BAM* The round bounced off, embedding itself in the floor. Looks like the armor will hold.
        “I thought you said 'on three'?!”
        “I did, but anticipation can lead to placebos. This way, you felt exactly what you normally would. So what did it feel like?”
        “I didn't feel a thing, maybe like a bee sting?”
        “Spectacles, you're a son of a bitch,” I said, grinning under my visor.
        “What? Did I do something wrong?” he responded.
        Pizza interjected, “That was a compliment. We've sort of picked up some Marine humor from serving alongside them for so long. You'll know when we mean bad by it, this not being an incident of such.”
        “Aah, so I did good?”
        “You did fantastic, Spectacles.”
        It looked like the armor prototypes would work. As I left the workshop, I noticed Spectacles had labeled the designs “Steel Ranger – Mk. I Prototype”. Steel Ranger... I liked that name. Where was he when we needed a squad name?

        I found Princess Celestia and Luna in the throne room at the dawn of the next day. I needed to discuss Plan B with them. “Celestia, Luna, this is the eve of an assault on the Mafia. The target is Well-met, HVI: Baby Face. I know they're waiting for us there, and that's what I'm counting on. However, I have no Plan B at present. Do you think the Equestrian Navy will be able to help remove a thorn from their side?”
        “What are you getting at, Joe?” Celestia asked.
        “Milady, my Plan A involves the Crimson Guard getting ambushed by Baby Face's goons. Plan B will be if we can't handle Baby Face's forces and fight our way out of the trap, we are to call Naval artillery on their strong points, and have a blockade runner bypass their Marecago Outfit Navy, and evac Crimson so that we can try again another day.”
        Luna seemed a bit surprised, “Your plan is to walk into a trap?”
        “One thing they teach you in Spartan training is: if you find yourself in a trap, you need to fight harder than you ever fought before to survive. Another thing is: if we're surrounded, that means we don't need to worry about where our lead will be flying. I'm confident that Baby Face would evacuate the town before our arrival, minimizing civilian casualties.”
        “So your plan is to walk into a trap.”
        “Yes, ma'am. We will have superior armor the likes of which has never been seen before. They won't even leave a dent in it. Just tell the Navy that red smoke marks the bad guys.”
        “I'll be sure to send a Task Force over there immediately, but how will you get there?”
        “We will arrive via train, in a car clearly marked 'Crimson Guard'.”
        It seemed that everything was in order. We said our goodbyes and departed. My team still had 24 hours to train for the ultimate firefight. Deep behind enemy lines... Surrounded on all sides... Just me, my gun, and a whole lot targets. This was starting to sound like my 105th days, and I considered those guy crazy!

        Back at base, Spectacles had finished the last Steel Ranger suit. Starfire and Pizza were helping Lockheart figure out how to use power armor. It looked like he was almost getting the hang of it.
        “You know, back in my day... armor was just a slab of gold that you wore on your torso. Not contoured Titanium plating that was on your everything,” Lockheart said.
        “Well, get used to it. There will be a lot more of the Steel Rangers by war's end,” I countered.
        Alright, everything seemed set. Lockheart was suited up and up to speed on Powered Assault Armor. Starfire was already rocking her armor like a pro. Pizza and I were Spartans, so we were set from when we touched down in the Whitetail. Time for some War Games.

        SWAT! No shields, no motion sensor. Just me, my gun, and a whole lot of headshots... um... better not go with that rule just now. “Remember: body-shots only. Aim for center mass, these are real bullets we're using this time, but your armor should hold against light arms fire. No explosives. And happy hunting,” I radioed to Pizza, Lockheart, and Starfire.
        For tactical reasons (and team balancing), I placed Lockheart with Pizza. One tactician, one Spartan. Starfire and I were on Blue Team this time. One tactician, one Spartan (even if I was also the tactician).
        Starfire and I chambered a round simultaneously. The shields dropped.
        We charged out, myself leading. We were headed left, to the MG Nest. I got to the corner and halted, motioning for Starfire to stack up. I needed a mirror, Red does have faster access to the MG Nest and I don't want to walk into a trap just yet. Tomorrow definitely, but not today.
        The only reflective surface I had on hand was may pretty little visor. Fat chance I'll use that. “Starfire, do you have a compact? I need something reflective.” Sure enough she did... and on her combat armor no less. Not going to question that.
        I held it around the corner, peaking at the Nest. Nothing. They're not there. They probably went left as well, which is what I'd've done if I were them. Need to think like the enemy: Pizza is a CQC expert, so they'll fight in the CQC area. I'm a marksman, so they'll expect me to fight from range. They would wait me out, or I them. This would be interesting.
        They would expect me to take the Nest, so I won't do that, no matter how tactical it might be. I rounded the corner, checking left to right. Nothing. Shit...
        I snuck up to the Nest and set down my BR. Taping the rifle to a wall with duct tape (always have it on me!), I also grabbed some paracord and wrapped it around the trigger. Decoy in place. I snuck my way back to Starfire, paracord in one hand, Magnum in the other. I nodded for her to move towards the CQC side.
        We were at a corner again, and I checked yet again. It took only a second for me to see Pizza camping in the corner, with Lockheart covering him. They didn't see the compact. I handed it back to Starfire.
        I turned to Starfire, holding out three fingers.
        Two fingers...
        One...
        I pulled on the paracord, and my BR reverberated from across the kill-house. I rushed around the corner. *BAM* Nailed Pizza square in the chest, Lockheart was looking toward where my BR's report was coming from. *Ratatat* Lockheart got a three-round burst square to the side, all bouncing off, but for the sim's sake we would be counting hits like that.
        Game over! Victory!
        Looks like we did it, and I still don't know why my sprees are carrying across games. Might just be a glitch, but who cares?
        “Now how in Tartarus did you do that? You had to be in two places at once!” Lockheart was not pleased.
        “I just strung up a decoy to catch your attention. Misdirection is an aspect of warfare, one that has trumped you. Pretty clever if I do say so myself.”
        “You did what now?”
        “I taped my BR on a wall and strung up some paracord through the trigger. When I pulled on the cord, the BR fired, even though I was on the other half of the kill-house. That caught your attention, allowing my to breach and take down Pizza. Starfire took you down no problem.”
        That shut him up. “Good game,” Pizza said.
        “Good game,” we all replied in unison.

        We ran through the War Games a few more times, each trying to achieve a definite lead on the other team's victory count. It was constantly neck and neck, so we called it a tie after game 30. Downstairs, I found Fencing at the range. He seemed surprised to see the new power armor.
        “Fencing, you'll have to stay behind for our deployment to Well-met. We don't have enough suits of armor. Keep training whenever possible, we should have a suit for you soon.”
        “Wait, you're leaving without me?”
        “Lockheart scored better than you at the shooting range, making him ideal for engagements at range. Starfire learns faster than just about anyone here, making her ideal for new areas and power armor training. Spectacles is... well, he's Spectacles. With only the two suits, you just drew the short straw this time around.”
        “I'll be sure to train then... I don't want to miss out on any future battles...” Fencing seemed distraught. I think he was really looking forward to this operation.
        “Take it easy, Fencing. You were there in the Frozen North with us, they weren't. And trust me, this is just a little side-mission compared to what the future will yield. I promise you'll be with us for many more operations to come. Keep your ear to the ground 'til then.” That seemed to cheer him up a bit. Morale was never my strong suit, but PsyOps was something I knew a bit about.

        I brought the assault team to the mess to discuss the battle plan. “Okay troopers, listen up and listen good. The intel I leaked to Chuck Finley in Cloudsdale should have Baby Face fortifying the ever-loving fuck out of Well-met. It will be the most formidable hard point the Mafia has ever had, more so than All-Can-Tries.
        “We will not be having air support for this mission, but Luna has lent us a Navy Task Force to aid us if the shit really hits the fan. If that's the case, and only if that's the case, you will be able to mark hostiles with red smoke grenades.
        “We will be arriving via train, and aside from the operators, we'll be the only ones on it. Starfire will fashion some explosive bolts linked to my comms so that I can blow the entire car apart without harming us. This'll give optimal lines of sight, and will let us bring out our ace in the hole.
        “The Mantis will be the main work horse for this operation, drawing and dishing out fire like no other. The Mafia will most likely gun down our car before we ever open the side door, so keep your heads down until I blow the bolts. Form up behind the Mantis when I do.
        “Pizza's Hardlight Shield will provide excellent cover if you can't get behind the Mantis. The town should be evacuated of almost all civilians, but check your fire just in case. Hostiles are in pinstriped suits. The locals may engage us, as the Mafia has aided them greatly. You do not fire unless if fired upon.
        “The main objective is to eliminate all hostile strong points and capture Baby Face, the chapter's leader. He runs everything in Well-met, including the signing of paychecks. If he goes, the mob dissipates. The Marecago Outfit Navy is our secondary objective. If I believe we can, we'll sink their battleship.
        “But if the shit does hit the fan, a Royal Equestrian Navy blockade runner will infiltrate the Well-met waters and very briefly dock. This is our ticket out, and it will not wait for us. Otherwise, we'll be walking out of there on our own. The REN is just an assurance. Any questions?”
        Lockheart spoke up, “What's the estimated opposition?”
        “Seeing as we have Baby Face scared shit-less from our endeavors against the Cloudsdale Chapter, I would say extreme. That is why we'll be using the Steel Ranger Prototypes Spectacles built, and that we tested.”
        Starfire was next, “When will the assault take place?”
        “The train is scheduled to arrive in Well-met at high noon. Seeing as it's a priority line, I don't think there will be any delays. This will be a broad daylight raid.”
        Pizza had a concern, “What if we lose a man in the field?”
        “We either pull him out of their, dead or alive, or we detonate the suit's power supply. This applies to Mjolnir and Steel Ranger armors. Mjolnir's classified materials makes it too hazardous to be in unfriendly hands, same goes for the Steel Ranger Prototypes.”
        “What is the probability of success?” asked Spectacles.
        “I would estimate between fifty and sixty-five percent. I've been through tougher.”
        “Why are you so sure Baby Face will be there?”
        “If he leaves when he hears that we're coming, it will shatter the confidence of the Mafia, encouraging insurrection within their ranks. If he stays, it will have to be a hard-fought battle to try and make an example of us. He will stay to try and prove the Mafia has nothing to fear but fear itself, but we'll show them we are fear incarnate.”
        “What about the Zebras? We are at war with them.”
        “We'll have to deal with them after Al Capony. Right now, a domestic threat is much greater than a foreign one, plus the Zebras may attempt an alliance with the Marecago Outfit. We've already staved off a massive invasion in the Frozen North, so we have some time before they attempt another attack.” No more questions. Good. Now to get ready. “Team dismissed.”

        It was morning the next day, and we were marching out of the underground fortress that is Crimson HQ. I was piloting the Mantis. The sun was well into the sky and pony folk were out and about. Their curiosity captured them when they saw Crimson's assault team walking down the street.
        The locals only came up to the base of Pizza's sternum. They didn't even make it past the first leg joint on the Mantis. I was towering over them.
        I rather liked the Mantis's controls. Two peddles, two sticks. The sticks controlled the arms. The peddles controlled the hydraulic pressure in the legs, enabling standing/crouching. The seat itself was another controller, having sensors in it to detect movements in your ass to determine the pivot of the vehicle's hips, enabling walking. To spin around, just move both sticks to the side, though this may be a bit hard to get used to when trying to aim one way and walk another.
        The HUD displayed to my forefront gave every vehicle read-out I needed. I was glad this thing had separate shields... and a 20 mike-mike rotary... and an MLRS (Multiple Launch Rocket System, though I prefer the term Катюша).
        Starfire was on my right, Lockheart to the left, Pizza front. We were marching right through the busy streets, crowds parting like the wake of Spectacles' CRRC. It was time to get serious.

        We found our way to the awaiting train. I had to crouch down to have the Mantis fit inside the train car. The rest of the team was already tucked inside. On the outside, in big, bold, red letters, was two little words: “Crimson Guard”. It was the only car labeled as such, making it easy to spot. The time for covert activities was long over.
        We waited there in complete silence as Starfire placed the explosives around the train car interior. After she finished, it was dead silence as we sat uncomfortably in the train car. This was a cargo car, so there were no luxuries, just blackness. I started counting time.

        Three hours is what I counted off in my head, when the train slowed. We were here. “The only easy day was yesterday,” I radioed to the squad, breaking the silence. They all assumed a prone position, leaving me to sit in the twenty-eight ton tank.
        All hell broke loose. Shrapnel and lead flew threw the crew cab like we were in a hurricane. My shields barely lost a sliver. Daylight spilled in for the first time in hours. After what seemed like an eternity and a half, the storm ended as quickly as it had begun. Time to take back the light.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

“Lieutenant, you even went so far to give UNSC secrets to these completely alien strangers?”
        “Yes, sir. They were friendly and in need. Plus, it felt like the right thing to do, I only wish I knew what it would lead to.”
        “You should have. Further, that is why I believe you are still a Lieutenant and not a Captain, unlike what these creatures made you.”
        “Admiral, I would suggest you show them some respect, they have been through a lot more than you ever will.”
        “Is that so, Lieutenant?”
        “Yes, sir. They are dead, after all. I believe the military has a reverence for the deceased. In the Navy, ‘we stand upon the backs of giants’.”
        “Admiral, I believe the LT was merely pursuing his science objective on the planet.”
        “Doctor, he got directly involved in the affairs of another race, against First Contact protocols.”
        “Admiral, I swear on Harvest that was in the pursuit of good.”
        “Regardless, you did break protocol, Spartan.”
        “He was completing his mission, Admiral!”
        “And I will mine, doctor. Now, what happened next, Lieutenant?”

> Ch 7 Homeward Bound
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

        “Clear!” I radioed and detonated the bolts Starfire had placed everywhere. I stood tall as the smoke cleared, the Mantis barely clearing the dust cloud. “Weapons free!” I called out to my squad.
        Motion sensors said nothing to our rear. All that there is was a group of buildings to either side of the street. The street ran perpendicular to the tracks, so I charged out the port side of the train, into Baby Face's kill-box. Just down the road, I could see the pier and the massive fleet of merchant vessels as far as the eye could see. It was a city on the water.
        I didn't hesitate a second longer, neither did my squad. In an instant, Spectacles marked all the hostile hard-points. I unleashed Катюша on the hostile MG teams in the buildings on the left.         *Thump* *Thump* *Thump* *Thump* *Thump*
        I raised Катюша, initiating an auto-reload. Five seconds until more rockets. The façade crumbled down from the targeted buildings. I shifted right. BaWAAAA!
        The 20 mike-mike rotary autocannon was chewing up the other hostile MG teams. It was literally blowing their crews to pieces. With bits of gore, viscera, blood, and severed body parts paving the way to Baby Face, I advanced down the road. My squad stayed near the Mantis's legs, roughly five feet behind me.
        A hostile MG nest was in front of me, right in the middle of the road. I just decided to overload the hydraulics. The gun exploded under the Mantis's mighty foot, and half of the gunner was stuck to the Mantis's foot. The other crewman was just a red mist and bits of chum. Crimson was holding up alright; all the fire was on me. My shields read half.
         Катюша was ready. I saw no good targets for her, so I held her at the ready. There was roughly a dozen dead behind me, and about five dozen left to make dead to my front, but they were all interspersed to nullify the effectiveness of explosives.
        I saw something shifting on one of the ships in harbor. The ship was christened: Dicta Belli. I knew enough Latin from my choir days to know that wasn't a merchant vessel's name. I also remembered that the Zebra language paralleled Latin... Oh, shit...
        “Zebras, at sea!” I radioed to my squad.
        I moved the Mantis as fast as it could go into a nearby alley way on my left. I was confident the Dicta Belli was taking aim with some naval artillery. Катюша would have to be my answer. Apparently Baby Face did ally with the Zebra Menace. Things were not looking so good for myself, the team, nor Equestria.
        “Pizza, toss smoke on Mafia emplacements. I'm going after the Zebra warships in harbor. Keep the squad alive.”
        “What about Baby Face?”
        “Kill him if he gets in the way. The mission's changed: Zebra forces have already landed on Equestria's mainland. We've been invaded.”
        “Roger that, good luck.”
        “We make our own luck.”
        I marched the Mantis down the alleyway, emerging next to a row of docks that linked back to the fleet of ships in the harbor. How could a harbor get so crowded? The Dicta Belli was aiming at me again. Good, it wasn't targeting my squad.
        Maybe I can hop ship-to-ship until I get a good line of sight? That'll have to be the plan for now. I marched the Mantis towards the nearest ship. I saw a bright flash from the bow of the Dicta Belli. Shells incoming.
        The Mantis got aboard the first ship just before the shell struck where I was just mere moments before. I aimed at the bow of the Dicta Belli, charging Катюша. *Thump* *Thump* *Thump* *Thump* *Thump*
        I saw the rockets streak forth, detonating to great effect against the main guns of the Dicta Belli. Another salvo in the right place might sink her, she was of roughly as much tonnage as the Stormbreaker. The Caesar was a cakewalk, and it outclassed the Dicta Belli greatly, but the Caesar never engaged me in direct fire.
        The Zebras returned fire while they let their bow burn. I moved to another merchant vessel, this one had civies aboard. The Zebras didn't seem to care much about the Equestrian natives and fired anyways. Wasn't gonna be able to dodge this one.
        My shields dissipated from the impact, but the Mantis recovered quickly. *BaWAAAA* I opened up with the twenty mike-mike. Chunks of the Dicta Belli's metal hull went soaring off. Those shards of of razor-sharp hull plating soared like shrapnel through the air, propelled by the 20 mike-mike and various secondary explosions. Катюша was ready for another salvo, but so were they.
        Another volley. This time I moved closer, onto yet another merchant vessel, avoiding the naval artillery. This ship was packed with containers. Their shells struck where I was, ripping open the civy vessel, a few ponies fell overboard.
        I managed to get the Mantis onto a raised platform, one that I assumed was for sky chariots. The view that I got was quite a sight to see.
        For miles around, every naval vessel was bearing the flag of Caesar. The only ones that weren't were the merchant vessels that got blockaded in when Caesar came to town. I'm gonna need a bigger gun.
        I saw a red smoke grenade streak through the air, landing on the Dicta Belli. Apparently Pizza had a bigger gun. I only hoped that the REN could see it. Pizza came across the radio, “Requesting naval artillery bombardment on RED smoke, danger close. Fire when ready.” Better skedaddle!
        I backed the Mantis up, only to find the only boat I could take back to the mainland had already capsized. I really hope this thing's environmentally sealed.
        A blanket of explosions sounded behind me, so I went for a swim. The Mantis sank like a stone. My shields were barely recharging, but they were there... even if they were only a slowly growing sliver. I got my bearings and marched towards the shore, the shields would keep the water out.
        When I breached the surface I was greeted by the carnage I had made only moments ago. There was also a surprise waiting for me as well: it seems we picked up a few hitchhikers en route.
        The Royal Guards were there, the boys I trained way back in Canterlot. What were they doing here? They had basic firearms with them, a few took aim at the Mantis as I marched it out of the water. I opened the top hatch once I was clear of the ocean waters and stood up in the cockpit, my back to the Zebra fleet.
        “Well, you boys sure are tardy to the party! Come on, there's still some blood to shed!” I ducked back into the Mantis and headed towards Pizza's waypoint. As slow as the Mantis was, it sure had some fine firepower.
        I found Crimson in cover, being pounded by hostile naval fire. “Guardsmen, form a defensive line! Pizza protect the Mantis, I've got a plan!” I bailed out and watched as the Canterlot One Hundred took up more defensive positions and started pestering the Zebra forces.
        “Sir, what are you planning?” Pizza asked.
        “You'll see. Starfire, I'll need every last bomb you've got.”
        “Here you go,” she handed me a bag filled to the brim with various explosives, including C-12. Just what I needed.
        I went to the back of the Mantis, selecting a few Hydrogen-3 isotopes from its reactor, leaving enough Hydrogen-2 for normal operation, though I would have to divert power from other systems if I wanted to get it moving again. I ejected the cylinder containing the chosen tritium isotopes.
        I laid down the plastiqué from the bag, and molded it around the tritium gas cylinder. Why Hydrogen-3? Because Hydrogen-4 is extremely unstable. The instability introduces more neutrons and energy, which is absorbed by other atoms and makes them just as unstable. The C-12 is just the boot in the pants to start the chain reaction. I inserted a detonator.
        Improvised nuke complete. Yield: unknown... probably a helluva lot, I would say maybe a kiloton or three. There wasn't much tritium in the reactor, but it may just be enough. We needed that enemy fleet gone, and I was the delivery system. Just part of the job, I guess. I mean, the Master Chief did something like this during the New Phoenix incident, and he made it out all right... right?
        “All Equestrian forces: I have a device that'll wipe out the Zebra fleet. Afterwards, I'd highly suggest you visit a radiologist. Keep me covered,” I shouted across to all of the stowaway guards. I slung the nuke onto my back. An icon appeared in the top right of my HUD: “Nuclear Device Acquired”. Great, Mjolnir was actually designed for this kind of delivery. Fingers crossed.
        I rushed out of cover between Zebra salvos. Quite a few hostile machine gunners were still operational. Where was our Navy? I was at a full sprint. Have you ever seen a Spartan at a full sprint? One moment we're there, the next we're gone.
        I was headed for one of the piers, hoping to go ship-hopping again. Once their artillery got loaded again, they were slinging their shells my way. I was outrunning their fire, but barely. Each shell ticked a bit off my shields, but they were holding. Shields: ¾ capacity. I kept running.
        I jumped onto the first ship, another civy vessel. I needed to get to the heart of the Zebra fleet to detonate this. I leapt onto the next ship to cross my path. This one was Zebra. One of the deckhands tried to tackle me, but Lockheart landed a burst to halt him dead in his tracks, literally.
        All of Crimson had my back, plus a company of Royal Guards. I just hope their aim was true and sure. Their support later on would need to be long-range.
        I kept leaping from ship to ship, occasionally using my Thruster Pack to bridge the gap. Eventually I made it onto their capital ship. Now this was odd: it was christened the Caesar. I swear I blew it to bits off the Equestrian coast, so what was it doing here, and not in bits? Is it like the Yorktown? Or was it a ghost ship?
        Doesn't matter. Bomb armed! I needed to run, fast! I gave it one minute until boom time. The commander of the Zebra fleet trotted out to try to stop me, but Pizza stopped him first with his DMR. That was a hell of a shot, I must say.
        I turned to try and head back across the Zebra ships, but they had shifted their formation. They were pulling back, with me aboard... with a nuke. An armed nuke. I looked back at Pizza, his gaze drifted off his scope to look at me, a thousand yards' distant. Too soon, dammit... we just lost Mormon and Richard, and it looked like I was about to see them again. “Not today,” I muttered and ran.
        Bomb detonated!

        Mjolnir doesn't like salt water, I'll tell you that. And I don't like swimming. Guess you can't win 'em all, huh? I had to walk to shore underwater, and my motion sensor was reading several false positives. ONI should have upgraded Mjolnir after that escapade off of the Yucatan Peninsula; those Spartan-IIs had similar problems.
        “Remind me to get some longer fuses...” I said as I emerged from the depths like some Scooby-Doo villain.
        “Joe!” The team called out, Pizza being the loudest and most enthusiastic.
        I took off my helmet, “Guess the situation has changed quite a bit. Pizza, get the Mantis. Let's RTB and see if we can figure out our next move. I want to know why the Mafia is supporting the Zebras.”
        “Glad to see you're still breathing, Joe.”
        “Pizza, you know it takes more than that to kill me. I was at Harvest! When I was five!”
        We shared a laugh as Crimson formed up, marching back towards our train. The Canterlot One Hundred, battered, bruised, but still in one piece, were still going about their own business, but a few seemed to not be busy. I also had some questions for them.
        “Major, I thought we would being doing this op solo, what made you come along with all of your friends?”
        “Sir, I just wanted to do what was right. It just didn't feel right to send a single squad against a vastly more formidable force. When I saw you loading up, I figured you were heading into some serious action.”
        “What's your name, soldier?”
        “Pane. Major Pane. Why do you ask?” Déjà vu, he was on Luna's list.
        “Just wanting to know who should be getting the medals.”
        “Um... sir?”
        “What you did here was far beyond the call of duty. You were never asked to be here, yet you willingly charged into this howling dark so that others wouldn't have to, or so that others wouldn't be as alone doing so. It would be wrong of me to overlook such courage now that the fight is won.”
        “Thank you, sir!” he saluted, grinning ear to ear.
        “Don't salute me, Major. It can be used by sniper teams to spot officers. That, and pointing. Leaders always point. Save it for non-combat zones.”
        “Oh, sorry sir! Won't happen again.”
        I continued walking alongside the Mantis. Pizza. Lockheart. Starfire. Spectacles. Fencing. Myself. We're all that is in the Crimson Guard. Damn few...
        “Major, how would you like to join an SF team?”
        “Would I?! I mean... Yes, I would like that very much, sir.” This guy is gonna be riot.
        “Tag along, and don't forget to tell your current outfit you're being reassigned. We don't want any logistical nightmares going on.”
        He ran off and did just that. We kept on our advance to the train. The blown-open train car made it easier for Pizza to have the Mantis board. The locomotive was pockmarked with bullet holes of varying calibers. I walked up to the engine, about to tell the conductor to head off as soon as the Major was aboard.
        Turns out a .50 BMG round from the local Mafia ricocheted and retired him. Shit. I looked ahead, only to find the tracks ahead blown apart, probably form Zebra Navy artillery. Double shit.
        Where was our Navy?
        A sky carriage swooped down off to the side of the blown-open train car. Oh, yeah... Equestria has flying boats. The two pegasi towing the carriage quickly opened the passenger doors. Out stepped an oldie... literally, this guy was ancient.
        “Nautical! Didn't expect to see you around here. Weren't you near retirement?”
        “I re-upped. And who the hell did you think was going to bring the Navy here in the first place?”
        “Good point, Admiral. How are things looking in the skies?”
        “As clear as the Crystal Empire. Those Zebras can't touch the skies, so much as own 'em. Two things pegasi do very well. And it looks like your ride is rather FUBAR, need a lift?”
        “So long as you're offering.” I motioned the team to form up on me.
        “We'll need to send some of our stronger flyers to lift the machine aboard. Everypony else, climb aboard.” He motioned us inside the carriage, it was padded with what looked like red velvet. Classy.
        I sat in the back, far right, helmet in my lap. Pizza was across from me, the admiral to his immediate right. My left had the Major and Starfire, with Lockheart taking up the last seat right of the Admiral.
        “Admiral, how's the war looking from your perspective?”
        “It's looking fine, not good, but fine. This was the biggest battle in a couple months, just skirmishes before. And with that kind of bomb you had, this war could be won overnight. I just hope the Ministries don't get in our way before then.”
        “Ministries?”
        “What, have you been living under a rock?”
        “Try a mountain.”
        “A mountain? Anyway, the six Ministries were formed a little while ago to aid in the war effort. They are: the Ministry of Peace (MoP), Ministry of Arcane Sciences (MAS), Ministry of Wartime Technology (MWT), Ministry of Morale (MoM), Ministry of Awesome (MAw), and the Ministry of Image (MoI). Each is run by its own ministry mare, each one serving a different role. Honestly it sounds like some sort of clandestine takeover. I'd prefer things how they were.”
        “I've got to talk to Luna about these new ministries then, see how they can best be used.”
        “Why do want to talk to Luna? I heard Celestia ordered their fruition.”
        “Trust me, I know which princess can handle war the best.”

        The ride was comfy, nauseous if you ask Pizza, but we made it back to Canterlot without notable incident. Night had fallen by the time of our return, making unloading easier. The Canterlot One Hundred remained in Well-met, routing out any stragglers. They were well-seasoned soldiers.
        I guess I should start looking around for more fusile compounds for the Mantis's reactor, but right now we have bigger fish to fry. Like cod, or salmon.
        Dinner was served, vegetarian for the squad, the above for Pizza and I. “Alright, Crimson, let's say hello to our newest freedom fighter: Major Pane. This is his first time in SF, so be gentle.”
        “Oh, we will,” said Starfire, flicking his nose with her tail while passing by the Major. I'm pretty sure that was some sort of flirting in Equestria, Pane's blushing was evident of that. The brown unicorn was going red.
        “Additionally, we still need to fight the war, finish recruiting, and destroy the Marecago outfit. No small task if you ask me, which is why I've called for some assistance.”
        “What kind of assistance, sir?” Fencing asked.
        “My kind,” Princess Luna said, just having entered the Mess Hall. She was like a shadow of a ghost. The whole except for Lockheart, Pizza and I, jumped. Guess they haven't seen too much action yet.
        “Princess Luna! Milady, what brings you here?” Fencing quickly responded, bowing down low.
        “War, Fencing. And war is no time for formalities. Joe, I believe you wanted to talk tactics?”
        “Yes, Luna. I've caught word of these six new Ministries, I was wondering how they would be aiding the war effort?”
        “Each is dedicated towards a field Celestia believes their ministry mare is well adept at. Applejack works with hardware at the MWT, Twilight is with the arcane scientists at the MAS. Rarity is in charge of propaganda and the like at the MoI, Pinkie Pie is in charge of civilian morale at her namesake Ministry. The MoP, headed by Fluttershy, is dedicated towards medicine and other solely peaceful endeavors. The Ministry of Awesome though... it's tough to say for certain what Rainbow Dash has her Ministry doing...”
        “I take it that the MAS works with magic?”
        “That is correct.”
        “Hmm... Then I have one question: how badly do you want to win this war and end this suffering?”
        “I want it done and over as soon as possible, but I do not wish to become the villain in this.”
        “You either die a hero or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain. And war... War never changes. But warfare does, and that is how winners are made. I believe you received my report on the Well-met detonation?”
        “You're not thinking of using those on Zebra population centers, are you?”
        “Not without fair warning. My plan is to drop nukes from high altitude onto Zebra military installations, with apt fliers forewarning the strike by three days' time.”
        “No, Joe. What your saying is just inequine!”
        “Then Plan B is we will send blueprints of UNSC firearms to the MWT, with Covenant and Forerunner weaponry being sent to the MAS. That will get our weaponry up to the formidable level that might just scare the Zebras into a massive secession of hostilities. The Steel Ranger armor will be sent to both the MWT and MoP. The MoP will probably help greatly with armor systems, seeing their intent is to save lives. Espionage handbooks and training manuals will be sent to the MoM and MoI, the latter receiving historic propaganda posters as well. Bioweapon schematics will be sent to the MoP, they will do with them all that is necessary.”
        “So you're taking a much more clandestine approach to things since you can't make the least clandestine approach?”
        “Pretty much. I estimate that Plan B will take maybe 1000% longer to achieve victory, potentially resulting in the deaths of hundreds of thousands, if not millions more than necessary. But it is more doable for anyone to do. In all of human history, nukes have only been used in three wars: the Second World War, the Insurrection, and the Human-Covenant War. None of which were pretty. In fact, they're the three most deadly wars on record.”
        “Which is why I don't want any unconventional explosives being used in any theater of war.”
        “Understood, but do you agree with what I want to do with the Ministries?”
        “Yes, but what about the MAw? What do you plan on doing with them?”
        “I think some Spec-Ops or other projects would be right up their alley. Also, is there an office for dealing with the mutual interaction of the ministries?”
        “Yes, I believe my sister called it the 'Office of Interministry Affairs'.”
        “Great! It looks like things will be running smoothly, then. For Crimson, I think we'll stick with handling the bloodiest and purest violence the war will ever bring to this world. We will lurk in the shadows of the battlefield, showing ourselves only to strike with lethal precision. No one will know where we are until it's too late.”
        “And how do you plan to operate without others knowing, yet still receiving all the support you require?” Luna inquired.
        “Easy: names.”
        “What?”
        “Have the MoI cover outfits like Crimson quite extensively, making us into the stuff of legends. Personally, I think they should stick with rumors and reports on the front lines, no actual pictures. Just enough to get the boys on the battlefield to know our unit. From there, we'll be able to get everything we need. Aside from that, this unit will have to exist much more substantially in the Equestrian armed forces. For once, we need a larger tactical footprint.”
        “Presently the Crimson Guard is listed as Special Forces, which entails a lot of black ink. If you'd like the unit transferred to something less secretive, you can always ask.”
        “What are the major outfits in the Equestrian armed forces?”
        “There is the Equestrian Heavy Guard, Marine Raiders, the Wonderbolts, and a few others within the existing branches of our military.”
        “My vote's for the Heavy Guard, what do you think, Crimson?”

        And viola, the Crimson Guard is now part of the Equestrian Heavy Guard, an outfit in the Royal Guard. This meant we would have better access to heavy weapons and armor, as well as hefty transport whenever needed. Personally, I think we would just stick with the in-house productions that Spectacles keeps giving us. His gear is top-notch compared to the native hardware.
        Next step: recruiting and retiring.

        “COL Lockheart, PVT Fencing, I need you two to head to Fillydelphia. There you'll find three ponies: PVT Footfall, T/5 Keen Eye, and 2LT Cupcake. I need you to recruit them and bring them to the castle. I'll rendezvous with them once I'm done with my duties, then we'll take them down to here for phase two,” I ordered to Crimson.
        “We'll get right on it, Joe,” Lockheart responded as the duo walked out of the mess hall.
        “Next, I'll need Pizza, Pane, and Starfire to head down to Ponyville to recruit MCPO Daze, SR Heartstrings, and RDML Solace. Luna's recommended their skill set and I believe we need some more folk around here before I can start giving us the bigger missions.”
        “Be back in a minute,” Pizza said, leading the rest of his squad out.
        “Guess its just you and me, huh, Joe?” Spectacles said.
        “Actually we have a mission of our own. What do you know of transmogrification spells and medicine?”
        “I studied those spells in passing, but not having a horn and all, I didn't pay much attention. Medicine I have taken significant note of. I saw the designs for Mjolnir's auto-doc and wanted to see if I could make one for the Steel Ranger armor. I'm still working on a design.”
        “That's good enough. I want you on standby, I may need some miracle medicine on the fly, in case if there are any side effects. Do you think you could do that?”
        “It isn't my profession, but I think I can get it done if need be.”
        “Alright, stay here, get any medical gear you need ready and waiting, and wait for my return. Oh, and we'll need a password; you may not recognize me on my return. Let's try: Harvest of Reach's Earth. You got that?”
        “Harvest of Reach's Earth, yes I got it. But why that phrase?”
        “Three very big battles in my history. Only Pizza knows those fights as well as I do. I'll see you later,” I stood up and started walking out of the room.
        “Touchy subject?”
        “The first one: I lost my parents. The second one: I lost everything and was too far away to do anything about it. The third one: I was the victor but with no spoils to show for it,” I proceeded out of the HQ, leaving Spectacles behind.
        I walked into the Castle. The Royal Guards parted to let me through, seeing how I had no weapons. The sun was on its descent across the heavens, but it would still shine bright for a couple of hours. Next I entered the throne room, Celestia was there along with a crowd of politician types. I assumed they were mostly going to be talking about some more ministry matters.
        “Joe, can I help you?” Celestia asked.
        “I'm looking for your sister, she had a task for me,” I was still somewhat bitter from the memories Spectacles had unknowingly brought back, but I tried to keep them under wraps while talking to the princess.
        “She's having breakfast, just head into the kitchen and I'm sure you'll find her.”
        “Thank you,” I left. Apparently many of the politicians were rather curious as to who I was, judging by the number of eyes that were watching me leave. Either that or I have a hot ass. I'd prefer the latter... and the Covenant have roasted my behind quite a bit with plasma fire.
        In the kitchen, sitting down at one of the tables, I found Princess Luna enjoying some cereal. “Isn't it rather late to be enjoying breakfast? Most folk have dinner around this time.”
        “Joe, nice to see you. I don't have what most would call a normal sleep cycle. I woke up just an hour ago, which is actually a bit early by my standards. So what brings you out of you cave fortress?”
        “I'm ready to take you up on that transmogrification offer. I've also been curious about the Night Guards as well.” It looked like she had finished up her meal. She moved to place her bowl with the other dirty dishes.
        “Then follow me, and what questions did you have about them?” She lead me past the thrones, taking a left to what looked like a landing pad of sorts.
        “I wanted to know more about their history, what distinguishes them from the regulars and Royal Guard.”
        “Hop on my back, I'll tell you en route.” Her wings were stretched out, ready for takeoff. Me not being one to object, I followed promptly. Surprisingly, she didn't seem hindered at all by carrying a half-ton Spartan on her back. Must be magic, or Skyrim-level carry weights. Probably magic.
        The cool air and a setting sun was all that was with us on the flight. We were heading towards the Everfree Forest's Eastern edge.
        “The Night Guard was formed by my own volition. Once Nightmare Moon was defeated for the second and last time, Celestia took me back to the Castle to tell me what had happened in the world during my 1000 year absence. Most of the social aspects of thing were completely alien to me, but the military and the technology was all vividly familiar. Those things didn't really change much, seeing as there wasn't a war since my lunar imprisonment.
        “One thing that I did notice with the soldiers in the Royal Guard was that a thousand years of peace and non-conflict has diluted their abilities. Most ponies enlist nowadays to get a good chance at seeing Celestia. I took note of this softness and talked about it with my sister.
        “She stated that she couldn't fire the weaker members of the Royal Guard because many of their families were dependent upon their income; they were lifers. So I came up with the idea to form another branch of the Royal Guard that I alone would oversee. Thus, the Night Guard was born.
        “The only problem was finding the ponies that weren't 'soft' and getting them to enlist. I had a clever idea to solve that problem: find those with nothing, and give them something. The enlistment process is highly selective: I am the only one who can recruit. Normally I plant a subconscious desire to go to the Shades, while giving them a conscious desire to travel. I also make sure to tell them the password to get in.
        “The ponies I choose are often criminals and outlaws that have nothing to live for. I convince them to turn over a new leaf, and although the law doesn't care for that, I also give them a new identity if they so choose to accept my offer. This makes the law incapable of affecting them. I normally council them a few nights prior to actually sending them to the Shades, making them doubt their lifestyle is truly one of honor.
        “Others that are chosen are either homeless or orphaned, or both. They normally already have a strong sense of virtue, and they tend to be more reliable once enlisted. It is they who disband any malicious thoughts of the criminals by simply making friends with them, after all, it did work well on Nightmare Moon.
        “This unique process has spawned a unique devotion, not only to duty but to country and branch of service as well. The first step of their enlistment is the transmogrification, the second is the reformation, and the third is the devotion. I give them a second chance when no one else will, so they tend to be fiercely loyal. That's how I managed to form a new Royal Guard branch that didn't have any soft soldiers in it.”
        “Where I'm from, that sense of loyalty is called esprit de corps. It truly is something to behold, or feared if it's what you're up against.”
        “Exactly what I was trying for. Now, the Night Guard is also fiercely independent, their whole facility can operate in complete isolation from the outside world. It is its own completely self-sufficient city built entirely underground. It is actually larger than Ponyville, to put it into perspective. The Night Guard has been known to attack those who near the entrance without giving the correct password, and due to the possibility of Changelings, they are even to attack me if I do not give them the right password.”
        “And what is that password, exactly?”
        “Nocte est eternum.”
        “The night is forever?”
        “I see you're well versed in Zebra.”
        “It's called Latin where I'm from, a very old language at that, but for some reason forever popular in choirs.”
        “It is the same case here, it seems. We're almost at the entrance, prepare for landing.”
        We descended down from the 2000 feet we were flying at. Luna set down in a small clearing and continued leading the way through the foliage.
        I followed close behind her, remembering that this is where Manticores come from and that I left the Mighty Magnum back at base. Eventually we made it to two Douglas Firs. These were the first Douglas Firs I've ever seen in the Everfree, so I guessed this was the spot.
        “What's the password!” Yep, most definitely the spot. The Night Guard was rather good at stealth, I couldn't see this guy on any of my viewing modes: VISR, thermal, night vision, normal vision, or anything! Not even my motion sensor showed him. Promethean Vision might be able spot him, but I had a Thruster Pack.
        “Nocte est eternum,” Luna muttered.
        It came as a surprise to me to see that a whole platoon had us in their gun sights, only making themselves visible to salute the princess. A whole platoon was within two yards of me, yet they were completely unnoticeable. Damn they were good! Foliage was covering their armor, making it look a bit like a ghillie suit.
        A sergeant ushered us towards the unique trees, opening up a previously unnoticeable hatch between the two trunks. Luna went on down, I followed again.
        “That was some damn fine stealth back there, not even Active Camouflage is that effective.”
        “Only the best get doormare duty, all the others are more combat-oriented.”
        “Remind me not to piss you off.”
        Luna laughed and we kept walking at a brisk pace through these dark underground caverns. The caves were all twists and turns in a complex that would rival Iwo Jima's cave system.
        “There is only one entrance and one exit here. All the tunnels you see are to have ponies get lost if they so choose to trespass. Ponies have gone missing down here before, we still haven't found the first one to take a wrong turn. All of the Night Guard, with their modified vision, can easily see the path to take. New recruits get escorted into the Shades by a Night Guard, so long as they provide the right password. Some unicorns have teleported past them, but they always disappear in these tunnels. The material that lines these walls hinder magical abilities. It was imported from the Griffin Kingdom, which has it in excess.”
        “So they teleport in when they know they shouldn't and can't teleport out?”
        “Yes.”
        “And judging from the dryness and lack of plant life, I take it there is no way to survive for any extended period of time in these tunnels?”
        “I think of it as an added measure of security, the Night Guard is supposed to be independent after all.”
        “What does the Royal Guard think of the Night Guard?”
        “They don't trust the Night Guard, but they don't need to. The Night Guard will trust them if I ordered it. There are notable tensions between the two branches, one being mostly criminals and the other being the ones meant to jail them, but incapable of doing so. Most ponies don't trust the Night Guard all too well, but I know the Night Guard will prove itself. They did do an admirable job at capturing you, after all.”
        “That they did,” I didn't even notice that I put my hand over where the ballista ran me through. The memory was vivid, the scar nonexistent.
        “And we're here! Beyond this door lies the Shades, a vast and flourishing underground city, completely isolated from the outside world. The locals may be hard on newcomers, but they've all received such treatment before they have inflicted it,” she opened the double-door, and what lay beyond was a metropolis that could challenge Canterlot.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

“Lieutenant, I think your time-scaling is a bit off here. Only a few days passed in your account of these events, yet you explained that months had past according to another. Care to explain?”
        “Admiral, it would be pointless for me to include the most moot of details. I take it that not much can be learned from the morning crosswords or thumb-twiddling. As such, sir, I intend to remove such details, sometimes spanning several days, whenever the details would be greatly repeated or irrelevant to my account of the events, sir.”
        “Lieutenant, we need your full account of these events, as per protocol, not the abridged version. Can you provide such details?”
        “Negative, sir, but you can view my neural implant recordings if you want to see everything I’ve been through, though I was saving them for those ONI eggheads.”
        “Admiral, think of it is removing irrelevancies in order to minimize the dilution of valuable data.”
        “Fine, doctor. Lieutenant, will you proceed?”
        “Are you going to keep on interrupting my story every ten thousand words, sir?”

> Ch 8 Rearmament
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	There were several buildings, all built into the cave system itself. On the right, I saw what looked like a clinic. Past that was a guard outpost. On the right was the barracks. I could smell various pastries in the damp air. Apparently they even had a bakery down here.
        It was truly an entirely independent society down here. And it looked like I would become part of it. “What do you think are the odds of this spell working?” I asked the princess.
        “I am confident that it will work perfectly.”
        Not the most inspiring of things, “Have you done this on a human before?”
        “No, I can't say I have. But I have done it to several ponies before, of all races.”
        “I'm not too sure this is the best of plans. What will you do if something were to go wrong? Is there a way to undo it?”
        “Yes, and that's plan B, but I haven't done so in a very long time.”
        “Alright, let's not delay the inevitable. And I think you should talk about this to Spectacles. I told him to start cooking up something special.”
        “I'll be sure to head back to Canterlot as soon as everything is squared away with you.”
        Luna showed me into the clinic, which expanded even further into the rock it sat upon. It was more like a complete hospital down there. Luna guided me through to the operating rooms. Are all the buildings here like this?

        The rest went by quickly, almost too quickly. All that I can recall vividly was pain, and lots of it. I remember being on a table with several doctors and nurses looking over me, Luna amongst them. Everything seemed to get brighter and louder, like someone hit me with a flashbang, and it wasn't fading... but my vitals were. My sense of smell also got much more sensitive. I need to use a new deodorant.
        I flatlined, and my armor's integrated medical suite took over. A shock went through my body, nothing. It shocked me again and my vitals picked up. My armor started to no longer feel like mine, feeling... off in some places. Then everything went black.

        “I miss Mormon,” commented Richard.
        “We all miss him, but he'd want us to finish this thing. Right now the Infinity isn't going to do too well if we don't do something about it,” I said.
        “What's the estimated opposition?” Pizza asked.
        “Extreme; Promethean and Covie mix. This objective is the only thing that's keeping the Infinity here. They don't want us to go so easily.”
        “Alright, Crimson. We're nearing the LZ, things are gonna get hot. See you boys at the evac, and happy hunting,” LT TJ Murphy radioed to us.
        “Keep the engines running, we'll be back in a minute,” I radioed back.
        “Commander Palmer, Crimson are back at the Harvester. They've got the power supply,” Miller broke through the radio, “Just have to clear the area and they'll be all set.”
“Understood Miller,” Palmer responded, “Majestic and I are almost at our objective as well. Dalton, how's the evac going?”
        “Rest of the planet's scrambled, Commander. You guys are the last ones down there,” Dalton replied. The back hatch opened up.
        “Alright Crimson, let's do this thing!” I yelled.
        We all jumped out the back. Miller got on comms, “Here we go, Crimson. The final stretch. Clear the area between here and the Harvester.” I lead the trio, sprinting to the right, down a pathway. There was a clearing, packed with Covenant.
        I scoped in with my BR. “Let's get this party started!” Richard radioed.
        He was already firing on the Covenant, pressing through their lines. Pizza and I focused on the Grunts and Jackals. Without them, the Elites weren't much of a threat. Richard was going straight for the Elites.
        I shifted my focus to priority targets, like the two Jackal Snipers in the rocky ridges. A couple bursts marked their demise as Pizza called back, “Let's move it up!”
        There were hardly any more enemies between us and the Harvester, just a couple Jackals and a Shade turret. Miller's voice came through, “Just checked the nav data. Requiem's getting awfully close to the sun. Let's move quickly, Crimson.”
        I ran up to where the Shade turret was, and peered around the Harvester's leg. Lots of Covies, even a few more Elites. Pizza set up next to me, and started firing down onto the hostiles. I followed suit, prioritizing the little guys. Eventually one Elite got on the Plasma Cannon they had set up, and began to fire on us. Richard hit him with a Plasma Pistol overcharge.
        I got clever and fired on the Plasma Battery just beyond his barricades. It blew the gunner to pieces. We began our approach again, tossing frags left and then another right. We breached to cover each other's back as we broke into the Harvester. Richard stayed with Pizza, taking the left flank. I had the right.
        “Roland, we've got the power source, now Crimson just needs to know how to hook it up,” Miller radioed.
        “Oh, I'll have an operating manual shortly,” Roland replied.
        A pair of Hunters were waiting for us. I drew the Mighty Magnum and charged ahead. The big guy tried to hit me with his shield when I got close, but I used my Thruster Pack to get clear. I climbed atop the Hunter and fired my Magnum into his exposed neck.
        He struck again, knocking me loose. My shields went down, but I kept on the attack, punching the Hunter's back as much as possible. Several strikes and a few bruised knuckles later and the Hunter collapsed. I heard a thud and bits of Pizza's Hunter started flying over the room.
        In hindsight, I probably should've used my last frag on the Hunter, just like how Pizza did, but then I'd be down a grenade. Grenades are damn effective.
        I pushed further up, finding a Jackal and a Grunt. After dropping those two, I glanced left and saw Richard push up his side. We met at the top, I signed for Crimson to halt. I was down to only half a mag on my BR, now.
        I glanced carefully over the railing, spotting three Generals, a Zealot, and a Ranger Elite. I set down my BR, swapping it with a Covenant Carbine. I slung the alien weapon over my back and drew my Magnum. I held up three fingers.
        On zero, Pizza, Richard, and I vaulted over the railing. We both reached the General closest to us, Richard going up the middle. We promptly assassinated them. The Zealot I engaged with my Magnum, Pizza assisting with a Needler.
        “Just one left, Crimson,” Miller marked the Ranger.
        He went down rather fast. Three Spartans tends to do that to a Covie. “Nice work, Crimson. All clear,” Miller radioed.
        “The power core fits right there, Crimson,” Roland said. A waypoint appeared right in the middle of the room, near a console of sorts. Richard moved towards it, power core in hand.
        “Slot it in and you can power up the Harvester,” Roland added. Richard set it down, then quickly drew his hands back.
        “Excellent work!” Miller radioed. The console seemed to encase the power supply, and a door at the front of the room opened wide. “Control room's open, get in there!”
        I motioned for Richard to go forward, Pizza and I guarded the door. “Roland, fire controls?” Miller asked.
        “Right there. Not exactly difficult, so easy a grunt can do it,” Roland marked the firing console at the front of this new room. I saw Richard literally punch the green fire button.
        A green beam of plasma cast itself from the Harvester, pounding the canyon wall. “Beautiful!” Miller radioed. I had to agree. Not every day you get to blow apart a canyon wall with a laser.
        “Mining laser's opened up a passage through to the cave system,” Roland said.
        “Commander Palmer? We're in,” Miller said. I started leading Crimson outside, and towards the new hole in the wall.
        “Miller—Just tell me when you're done—Demarco! Wake up! Bad guys on you six!” Palmer sounded like she was in some trouble. The ground started rumbling ferociously.
        “Let's get in the cave, Crimson. We don't have much time!” Miller said. We sprinted the last hundred yards. We entered a large chamber, I pointed out the path to the right, just as a Knight appeared out of thin air. Richard was already laying into him with a Lightrifle, but Pizza's Needler beat him to the kill.
        I looked around, seeing additional contacts on my radar, “Lancer!” I shouted, ducking just in time to dodge a Binary Rifle round. I saw a Pulse Grenade arch through the air, closely followed by a Plasma Grenade. The Knight Lancer dodged the projectiles, but he lost his aim.
        I stood up, scoped in, and let loose. My Carbine wasn't doing much to his shields, but Pizza and Richard joined in, making very short work of the Lancer. I pointed towards a small passageway leading further into the cave system. Crimson followed.
        A swarm of Crawlers appeared right in front of us. “Frags!” I radioed to the team. Richard and I tossed our last frag grenades. I followed up with the pair of Pulse Grenades the Lancer dropped, for area denial.
        Luckily, my Carbine was super effective against Crawlers. We cut them down in no time, sprinting further ahead as the last one fell.
        “Look at that...” Miller radioed. I looked up and saw a large Forerunner structure at the back of the cave. It was under heavy Promethean guard. I saw several Commanders, a Lancer, and even a Battlewagon. There was also one Watcher and a fair mix of Crawlers in their ranks.
        “I don't see the artifact,” Roland said.
        “Good point,” Miller responded, “Crimson clear the area, I'll find what we're looking for.”
        That's pretty much the routine of things on the Infinity, huh? We were already engaging the Crawlers. I took out a Crawler Sniper and shifted my fire onto the Lancer. I saw Pizza assassinate a Commander as Richard grabbed the Commander's Scattershot. Richard quickly turned the weapon onto the other Knights.
        My Carbine ran dry and I switched back to my Magnum, firing at the Watcher. Five rounds and he went down. I only had three rounds left. “Empty,” Pizza radioed as a Commander supercombined. I ran over and grabbed the Crawler Sniper's fallen Binary Rifle. I scoped in and dropped the Battlewagon.
        “That's everyone. Nice work,” Miller radioed to us. I checked my left flank, and sure enough, Pizza and Richard had taken out the remaining hostiles. “Looks like this is the path deeper into... whatever this place is.” A waypoint appeared on our HUDs. We moved towards it, towards a fancy door. Pizza grabbed the Incineration Cannon the Battlewagon had dropped.
        “Roland – Why's the door not opening?” Miller radioed.
        “...Looks like power's off to the whole area,” Roland replied.
        “Quickly, Roland. Requiem's not slowing down.”
        “Power source located. Activating that door will open the door.”
        A waypoint appeared just ahead, down some stairs. We sprinted towards it. Every second mattered, and we were running short on time. Requiem was about to become a memory, and I wasn't quite ready to be part of it. Richard pushed a few of the holographic glyphs and the door opened wide.
        We didn't miss a beat, we all ran in. Richard was on point, sprinting down the hallway.
        “Richard, get that power source online. We need to-” *KaPOW!*
        A Binary Rifle had fired. Richard collapsed into a pile of ash. “Richard!” Pizza and I shouted in tandem. We didn't have time to mourn. We pushed forward, a newfound rage burning in our hearts. Pizza saw the Lancer and fired his Incineration Cannon at the bastard. The Lancer didn't last long, but a Commander was trying to get the jump on Pizza, literally.
         *KaPOW!* Scoped and dropped. The Commander collapsed into a pile of ash, far too reminiscent of Richard. We found the switch we were looking for. I pushed a few button's until something happened.
        “Power's on,” Roland commented.
        “Great news. Crimson, let's move with a purpose,” Miller wasn't going to give us chance to think about what just happened. We headed right back up to the door, pushing the new button that appeared on it.
        “Almost there... we just might make it,” Miller said. The door took agonizingly long to open. We sprinted through. “That's it! That's what we're after. Roland, tell Captain Lasky that Crimson has reached their artifact.”
        “Done and done,” Roland said.
        “Take it offline, Crimson!” Miller ordered.
        I ran up and pushed a few more glowing buttons. “Artifact's off the network,” Roland radioed, “Only Majestic's target remains.” The ground started to rumble a lot. “And I don't think Requiem appreciated it.”
        “Commander Palmer, Crimson has their artifact offline!” Miller said.
        “Acknowledged,” Palmer replied, “Excellent work.”
        “Spartan Miller!” Roland radioed, “That whole place is going to come down on Crimson's head!”
        “I noticed, Roland!” Miller replied, “Crimson! Move! Now! Get out of there! We sprinted out through the too-slow door. Pizza and I barely made it twenty yards before we were lifted in the air, then slammed down, hard.“Roland! What's happening?”
        “Localized gravity fluctuations,” Roland replied “Things could be... weird down there, Crimson. Be careful.”
        “Gravity's just getting weirder the closer to the sun we get!” Miller said.
        We continued running to the back from whence we came. Another gravity fluctuation hit us en route, and I saw a distant shimmer in the larger chamber beyond the passage. I scoped in with my Binary Rifle as Pizza ran ahead. *KaPOW!* A Spec Ops Elite was reduced to ash.
        “Oh, come on! What the Hell?” Miller said. What were these Covies doing here, anyways? The planet was about to be destroyed!
        “Some of the more religiously devout, it seems,” Roland replied, “They'll reactivate the artifact if you give 'em the chance.”
        “Take 'em down Crimson,” Miller said.
        Pizza was already in a dance of death with another Spec Ops Elite. I saw a shimmer headed his way. I sprinted for the intercept, grabbing a fallen Energy Sword off the ground. I lunged and bifurcated the Spec Ops that was trying to get Pizza.
        Carbine and Storm Rifle fire started peppering us from the ridge, I switched back to the Binary Rifle, Pizza hoisted his Incineration Cannon. *KaPOW!* *KaPOW!* Double Kill!
        We sprinted up the ridge, headed for the outside. Two Rangers were in the bore hole we made. Pizza nailed the two of them with one shot from his Incineration Cannon. “That's the last of them!” Roland said.
        “Where the hell's Murphy?” Miller asked.
        “He should be there. Murphy! Come in!” Dalton said.
        “Settle down!” Murphy came through, “I didn't go nowhere! Just had to fall back to keep from being boarded.” Pizza and I sprinted for the Pelican as it descended. It's back hatch opened up and we jumped aboard, barely getting strapped in before Murphy took off. “I've got 'em Miller. We're on my way out.”
        “Great work, Crimson! Now head back to Infinity so you can wake up!” Miller said.
        What was that last part?

        I awoke, finding myself in a hospital bed. My HUD was saying I was okay, but my gut was saying otherwise. I rolled out of bed, catching myself on my hooves... Hooves?!
        I checked myself over: bat wings, four (count 'em four!) hooves, a bushy bushy tail, and a cute blue and white mane. Shit, I was a candy colored horse. Guess Luna's spell worked after all.
        A little too well, if you ask me. Mjolnir had also transmogrified with me, but everything seemed to by functional. Motion sensor confirmed myself and one other in the room. I turned to look at who it was.
        “Luna. I take it you were peeking in on my dreams again?” I was still mostly focused on this new body. My bare tail was sticking out of my armor, but the rest of me was still armor-clad. A quick glance at the system diagnostics confirmed that I was still environmentally sealed inside Mjolnir.
        “I was worried, normally this procedure is harmless. I knew you were a special case so I had half the medical staff on standby, but even then it came too close. Your heart even stopped.”
        “Yeah, I think remember that.”
        “Twice.”
        “Now the second time I can't recall.”
        “I induced sleep in order to dull the pain. Did it help?”
        “Given the dream I found myself in, I'd say no, but thanks anyways.”
        I started trying to walk about, but face planted almost immediately. I heard Luna giggle behind me. “You really should rest up. It was hard keeping you alive, and I can only assume it was doubly so unto you.”
        “My auto-doc says I'm green across the board. The only thing that's making me red is the fact that becoming a thestral didn't come with an instruction manual. How do ponies even walk with four legs? I was happy with just my two.”
        “We'll take you through PT tomorrow, it's getting early. Just stay put until then.”
        “Pain and Torture? Sure, that sounds like great fun!”
        She giggled again, “You know what I mean. You are a soldier, after all.”
        “You can't stop a leatherneck, we adapt and survive!”
        She smiled and left the room. Now it was time for me to figure out how to walk again. You just put one... hoof in front of the other - *thump* The ground actually tastes surprisingly good. Floor spice, twice as nice!
        Alright, sometimes you need to run before you can crawl. Terrible life advice, but it might just come in handy here. I'll just try moving two legs at once, opposites and all that jazz.
        *Clip Clop Clip Clop*
        I managed to cross the room without reacquainting myself with the floor. Good, but it was a little too fast. I'll probably figure it out later. Right now my tummy's been protesting my procrastination a fair bit. Best to get something to eat.
        Not being able to adequately walk, I was stuck with the supplies I brought in. I opened up one of the pouches on Mjolnir and found myself a small MRE. A small, bacon MRE.
        I pulled out a chemical pouch for cooking and as I waited for it to heat up, and then I realized something: I did all that with hooves! How is that even possible? I looked at my gauntlet-clad fore hooves, utterly transfixed. Hooves... how do they work?
        I started smelling something burning and pulled out my bacon strips. They were perfect. Guess I must have enhanced smell as well.

        You can never beat bacon for sheer taste. That was something I had to explain to Luna as to why I was eating meat. Apparently a vegetarian species doesn't understand why an omnivorous species would so willingly eat meat, even though they knew it was alive at some point.
        “You do realize that you are a pony now? This could have some adverse effects.”
        “Yeah, but I was hungry and I had this,” I gestured towards the MRE wrapper.
        “You could have just called for the nurse.”
        “But this is bacon we're talking about, not some cut-rate beef or mutton.”
        Luna sighed, “I guess there will be no convincing you, now will there?” I shook my head in the negative, “Very well, just... it may be unnerving to some of the guards around here. I suggest you be discreet about it.”
        “Well, the rest of the Crimson Guard didn't seem all too bothered about it, but I understand.”
        “Crimson knows of this?”
        “Of course. Our mess hall is also our briefing room, after all.”
        “Regardless, you seem rested enough. Would you like a tour of the Shades?”
        “That would be nice.”
        And so she walked me out of the hospital. She even had enough foresight to get me a wheelchair.
        “The place your were just in is the Nectar Wing Hospital. It was named after the Night Guard who pioneered a new medical discipline focused exclusively on thestrals. Every new recruit comes there for transmogrification. You were the first non-pony to undergo such a treatment.”
        Nectar Wing Hospital. It is on the North side of the Shades, against a back wall of this massive cavern. I could only assume it stretched onward into the rock behind it, as did the city.
        “Right now we're walking through the medical training grounds. They're used to train combat medics and other military physicians.”
        I saw a pair of thestrals working on a dummy that had been bifurcated. Apparently they were so damn good the dummy would have made it, if it were alive, judging by their instructor's reaction. I'll have to keep these boys in mind for Crimson's medical officer.
        “Up ahead, on both left and right sides, are some housing structures. They are reserved for the local politicians and other high-ranking officials. The three generals live on this block.”
        Only three generals? Must be ran as a triumvirate of sorts, militarily speaking. The two rows of houses stretched down the street, totaling five buildings on each side. The two on the left, three on the right, closest to the Nectar Wing Hospital were each three stories tall. The other five were two story complexes. At the end of the street were three, five-story buildings with marble facades. Must be where the generals lay.
        We took a left when we reached their doorsteps, heading East. There were four large, flat buildings to our right. On the left was a single massive complex that took the entire other side of the street.
        “Here we have the guard barracks on our right, and on the left is the Tower of Power. Used as an initiation rite amongst officers, the Tower of Power is a difficult training ground. Soon-to-be officers pick their squad and send them through it. The officer oversees the team as they move about, but he may not be with them. The team must reach the flag located at the top of the tower. You'll learn more about it in nights to come. It has recently been upgraded to provide power to all of the Shades. This merely adds convenience to us, we have operated here for many years without power nor fault. It just makes things easier to get by.”
        “All power comes from a single source here?”
        “Every home has its own basic power production, enough for the family that lives there. There are also backup systems in the caves all around here, in case of power failure. These caves are rich with gemstones. The power in ones' home and the power from the Tower are two completely independent systems, so if power from one is lost, the other may still be able to send it.”
        “Sounds like a pretty good setup you've got here.”
        “That we do. Up ahead is Quarter Masters. You can get everything you need there, and then some.”
        My jaw dropped. Up ahead was a gigantic warehouse, bigger than any I've ever seen, and I was born on Harvest! On the front, in an orange square, was a one-fourth fraction with a gold star behind it. Just below that, it read: “We've got everything you need here... and then some”.
        “And that's not all,” Luna said, turning us both right when we reached the warehouse, “Here is the Shop. It is the local machine/wood shop. If there is a tool for something, it's in there of all places.”
        I was even more surprised at this. It was an even bigger warehouse than Quarter Masters. It had a shabby-chic sign out front, reading “The Shop”. Below it hung a sign saying, “We have everything you need to make everything you can't get”. Apparently this was where most of Equestria's military budget went. It looked like it was well worth it.
        “One last stop,” Luna said.
        We took another right, slipping onto a street that had its right-side houses adjacent to the generals' houses, one street up. On the left, were several more houses, each small and single-story.
        “Here is more of a residential area. Your house will be farther down the road. I'll help you set the magic locks. I have an override on all the locks here in the Shades, but various officials tend to have a few overrides themselves.”
        “Wow, I think this will be the first time since Harvest that I've actually had my own house. Most of the time I just bunk with friends or rent a hotel room. Thanks, but if you plan on keeping me here, I do have to report back to my squad.”
        “You are free to leave whenever you like, but whatever you do: do not show this place to anyone but thestrals. There are a lot of ponies here, all of which had nothing until they came here, many of whom found something here to keep them going. Be it a family or goal or esprit de corps, it gave them another chance when nothing else would. Not every pony is bad, but there are bad folks out there who would like to destroy this place. Keep it secret, keep it safe.”
        “This place's whereabouts will die with me, if need be. There is no way I would take this from someone.”
        “I mean it Joe, not even Celestia knows where this place is. She knows of it, but that is a rare privilege I gave her. Caesar's spies may be anywhere at any given time.”
        “Loose lips sink ships...”
        It looked like my house was no different than the other cookie-cutter buildings. “All of these buildings bear a similar appearance, but are varied on the inside. Feel free to decorate your front however you choose, many have done so already.” She waved a hoof right, not even breaking stride. Now, how did she do that? I can hardly walk without face-planting!
        Oh, lookie there! One thestral had put a wreath on their front door. Another had a few belts of 7.62x51mm stretched around their eves. My house, number 3251 Starlight Street, had nothing.
        We went up the stairs, and Luna's horn lit up. She touched it to a pad next to the front door, then lifted it away, her horn still glowing. “Okay, now press you hoof to the pad.”
        I did so, feeling a mild shock go through my hoof and up my arm. I pulled it back.
        “Now the lock should be matched to you, and only you. It will remain locked if anypony else tries to access it, unless you hold the door for them.”
        “Basically a better biometric barrier?”
        “Exactly. Now, you mentioned needing to get back to you squad?”
        “Yes, ma'am.”

        Luna walked me to the exit of the Shades, having returned the wheelchair to the Nectar Wing Hospital. The maze lay before me. Luna would be coming with me to Canterlot, needing to get there for night court and whatnot.
        “Care to take the lead, this time?” she asked.
        “I'm not sure I could recall the way...”
        “Not many can. Just follow your senses, this path was made specifically for thestrals to be the only thing that can navigate it. Remember: scent, sight, and sound.”
        Alright, scent... sight... sound... *drip* *drip* *drip* North.
        I walked forward a ways, toward the faint sound of some water dripping off a stalactite. If I didn't have enhanced hearing, I probably couldn't have found it. Now I smelled butterscotch. I love butterscotch.

        Following this slightly blacker line along the pitch blackness of the wall, I eventually found my way to the exit hatch. Also, I figured out that the trick to walking on hooves is to not focus on it.
        I opened the hatch. Outside was just how it always was: still, calm, and quiet. Just now I could smell the guards lurking in perfect camouflage. Apparently one of them was in proximity to second-hand smoke and seawater for a long time. It was as though the scent was part of him. I also smelt sand and cordite on another. A Hoofinite and an Appleloosan if I had to put my hoof on it. See, I can keep up with terminology!
        They let us pass without ever revealing themselves. Visually, they weren't there. Audibly, it was a whole rest. I could only find them by the faintest of smells. Now that was awesome. I'm even surprised how much I could figure out about them just from scent alone.
        “Luna, there's something in the area I'd like to check out.”
        “Oh, what is it?”
        “A while ago, I ordered Spectacles to construct a second Crimson base near here, I'd like to see how it has come about.”
        “I still have some spare time, let's go see it.”

        I checked for IFF tags... nothing. I switched to Ground Penetrating Radar... bingo. My boots are magnets, radar systems, and certified 100% genuine ass-kickers. I love Mjolnir!
        There was a large contact to my front. The Shades were way too far away to have been picked up, it did take a while to walk through that maze.
        I walked ahead. I recognized this area as my old LZ. We were definitely in the Whitetail again. I stumbled across the old clearing, and even spotted some 12.7x99mm brass casings from when Pizza mistakenly fired on me.
        I looked around some, GPR guiding my steps. I found the old bush where my attempted assailant was, but his body was gone. In his place was a hatch.
        I motioned Luna over as I entered. Once inside, there wasn't a light to see. Somehow though, I could still see effectively through this pitch blackness. Guess I'll just chalk that up to my bat pony eyes.
        I stepped in a little closer. The layout was exactly how it was back in Canterlot, just this was an uninhabited, empty husk of its sister base.
        No lights, no power. I'll have to get a reactor moved in here. Maybe I'll use this for some of the more classified UNSC tech? That seemed like a good idea. “Let's go,” I whispered to Luna as I turned around to leave.
        The outside light stung my eyes a bit as they tried desperately to adapt. Things gradually got back into focus. That is something I'll have to keep in mind... might get me killed one day. I turned up the polarization on my visor just a bit more, then found the old tire tracks of the Warthog.
        “This way to Ponyville,” I said, getting onto the route.
        “You seem to know this place quite well,” Luna commented.
        “I never forget an ambush. Captain Cupcake sent an assassin after my here, but I got the bad guy first. Your thestrals ambushed me just a little ways up this road. I took a ballista through the gut, thanks to them. Also, when I first arrived here it was solely for recon and science. That clearing back there was my old LZ, until we made the move to Canterlot.”
        “You seem rather well armed for a 'recon and science' mission.”
        “True, but being a Spartan, we have a bad track record when anything science-y gets involved. Most of the time the ONI eggheads wait until a fireteam or two show up before they try anything new. Those who don't have a tendency to go missing and never be found again. Also, more guns never hurt the knowing.”
        “I'm glad you brought your superior firepower with you, regardless. Spectacles has been reporting several new inventions practically all day and all night, all of which is derived from your technology. He just has a tendency to throw some magic into some of the devices. The other ministries, however, are doing a great job to prove themselves better than Spectacles.”
        “There's nothing wrong with a little friendly competition, but I find that the more competitive people tend to want to win more than succeed. I've heard of companies sabotaging one another just so that their leading competition trails behind. I hope the OIA prevents this kind of malevolence.”
        “They will. I've appointed most of them myself, though Celestia has the final say. I still don't agree with her decision to put Blueblood in charge of any military operation, let alone protecting Equestria from seaborne invasion.”
        “Blueblood's the one in charge of that? Can you tell me a bit more about him?” I could smell apples up ahead. They smelled delicious.
        “He is our very distantly related nephew. He tries his best to use that association to get his way with a lot of things. He is a stuck up, snobby, waste-of-salt aristocrat, but the only thing that keeps me from publicly saying so is that my sister seems fond of him.”
        “He sounds more like a pain in our ass than the enemy's.”
        “Verily. And I must say, I am thankful that you treat me as just any other pony. Most others would still be treating me as though I am royalty. Though I am, it levies undo stress unto me, which has proven to be most undesirable.”
        “No need to thank me, ma'am. I just view everyone as equal; no one better than the other. At least, until someone proves themselves otherwise. You're kind, gentle, and loving, but deep in your eyes, I see the pain of death, revenge, and that of courage. You have what it takes to kill to protect those that deserve a better world.”
        “You can tell a lot just by one’s eyes, can't you?”
        “Yes, indeed. You and I are a lot alike. First off: we've both lived a lot longer than we should have, as such, we have seen more than any one soul should ever endure witnessing. Next: we've both lost loved ones. Mine was once on Harvest, then twice more on Requiem. Yours was with Celestia.”
        “The Nightmare...” she whispered.
        “We also like to stargaze frequently, but I think that isn't as important of a point.”
        We chuckled as we entered the apple orchard. Definitely not the Innie farm I had originally suspected. I took off my helmet and picked an apple off of one of the trees as we passed by. As I bit into it, I had an odd urge to suck on it.
        I did so and was moderately surprised to find that my new-found fangs had completely drained the thing of all of its juices. It shriveled up, looking like a raisin. I was also surprised at the taste of it: it tasted delicious! Almost like apple cider.
        “Did not know I could do that...” I commented.
        “Oh, I see you've found your fangs. Most thestrals thrive off of fruit, and they do so by sucking the juices out of it, similar to how a spider would its prey.”
        “Well, as delicious as it is, I don't think I should take any more. This isn't my orchard, after all.”
        “Feel free to come back to the Shades if you'd like more. We have underground orchards and gardens there.”
        “Even then I don't think I could afford it. I have plenty of credits, but not one bit to call my own.”
        “There is no currency in the Shades, only requisitions and services. I made it so in order to minimize the expenses of the thestrals. If you need something, just ask. The Lunar Guard views itself less as a military and more of a family, and you should do the same.”
        “Well, that's the first time I've heard of a civilization having no currency system. And here I am thinking I'd have to use that dead assassin's coin pouch to get by.”
        “You looted a dead colt?” She seemed a little shocked.
        “He tried to murder me. I would normally view his life as forfeit in the scenario.”
        “Well, were you doing anything to offend him?”
        “Unless if eating breakfast is considered offensive, no.”
        “Maybe it was the offensive way in which you were eating breakfast?”
        We both shared a laugh. Dark humor for the win! We had emerged at Sweet Apple Acres. Apparently that's what the orchard was called. We kept walking, making it to the train station and getting a ride to Canterlot. I've still got to figure out how these wings work, but I'll do that once I'm back at base.
        The sun was setting when we arrived back at the castle. “I'll go check in with my team, have a good night.”
        “Same to you, Joe.”

        Underground felt a little more at home than usual. I walked up to the doorway, which was locked down. I knocked a hoof on it thrice. No answer.
        Thrice more... nothing. I was about to knock again when the door opened and Spectacles was there.
        “What is it?” he asked.
        “Harvest of Reach's Earth.”
        “Huh?”
        “Uh... Spectacles, that was the password... so that you know it's me, Joe.”
        “Oh, Joe! I didn't recognize you. Did you do something with your hair?”
        “You could say that. Regardless, the procedure went well. I'd like to know what progress you've made on that Steel Ranger auto-doc.”
        “Actually, I got a little sidetracked. You remember when you mentioned those transmogrification spells?”
        “Yes.”
        “Well, I did some more research into them, and tried applying what I learned about Zebra talismans from the CRRC. I was also looking at Mjolnir armor abilities at the time and am trying to develop a transmogrification armor ability. The auto-doc just needs a few finishing touches and an upload of the user's medical history, and then it should be done.”
        “Transmogrification armor abilities? You mean I could swap between Spartan and thestral on the fly?”
        “Or even into a fly! Though it seems the bigger the mass change, the more lethal it gets... Anyways, the autodocs for all the Steel Ranger suits are almost done.”
        “That's good, but those new armor abilities would make me much more effective in any battlefield. How has the development been going on those?”
        “Quite well, but I mustn't strain the system. The first prototypes are still cooling down from their first use. I estimate it would take a three-day cooldown before it can be used again.”
        “Three days isn't much in a war. Has there been any side-effects or harm being caused to the subjects?”
        “Yes, some heart problems, and occasionally this 'bleeding' effect where sometimes traits of both species are expressed simultaneously. I needed some critters of significant size to mount these armor abilities to, luckily dogs and cats sufficed. I just uploaded a gene sequence from one species, and it remembers the starting sequence. I activated it and turned a few dogs into cats. I'm still waiting for it to cool down before I can try to change them back.”
        “A few... what happened to the others?”
        “Their hearts stopped. It seemed to preference larger breeds being turned into smaller cats, which is where I drew the mass conclusion. It might be more apt to say that it takes effect from the outside in. Their limbs change first, and I can only assume this generates quite a lot of blood, then their organs change as well. This differential could have put too much stress on the heart, so I've still got to figure out how to normalize this.”
        “Keeping looking into that, and where are the others? I thought they'd be eager to see me.”
        “They're out in the field, gathering up the recruits you asked for. On a side note, The Steel Ranger armor design is making wakes in the MWT. How do you think it'll fair?”
        “It was proven at Well-met, you don't need to prove it anymore.”
        “Thanks, and I've been thinking... How easy do you think it'll be to mount a cannon on a pony?”
        “Well, shoulder-mounted cannons have been outfitted to some prototype armor systems...”
        “Good, because by 'thinking' I meant 'searching through classified files'. I've been looking at the load-bearing capabilities of Steel Ranger armor, and it can handle several times the operator's weight, so why not use it? The Hrunting/Yggdrasil Mk 1 prototype suit had artillery mounted onto the operator, and in terms of power-to-weight ratio, it was actually performing less effectively than Steel Ranger armor. Do you have any ideas that could make this happen?”
        “Back home it wasn't too uncommon to see someone put a shotgun or rifle into a sidesaddle on a motorcycle. Maybe you could do something like that, with side-mount, forward-targeting weapon systems?”
        “I'll get right on it!”
        And he ran off, headed straight for his workshop. Those new armor abilities would definitely come in handy. I could picture a few scenarios where they'd be perfect.
        Back to what was at hand, I ventured towards the Eye. Spectacles uses this observation room to keep a watchful eye on us while we're out in the field, I figured I could use it the same. There were several large monitors stretched across the back wall and a central terminal in the middle. On the monitors were the various members of Crimson going about their objectives. Everything seemed to be in order.
        I walked back into the workshop to find Spectacles. “You really shouldn't leave operatives all by their lonesome back there,” I told him. His head popped out from around another monitor, he was holding a screwdriver in his mouth.
        He spat it out and ran back to the observation room, “Sorry,” he said. I don't blame him, a lot was going on at once. There were two missions going on, and he had to watch over both of them. I just hope something will allow us to have a better allocation of assets later. Maybe a thestral or two would like to join?

        It was dawn when the final Crimson Guard personnel arrived with the new recruits. Spectacles helped get them up to speed on what happened to me. “Lyra, what the hell are you doing here?” Apparently Lockheart knew one of the mares we picked up.
        “Lockheart, you know her?” I asked.
        “Of course I know her, she's my daughter!” Whoa. Did not see that one coming. “Lyra, I don't want you to serve alongside these men here. You are much better off where you were.”
        “Dad, I know what I want to do a lot better than you do. And do you remember those humans I kept on telling you about? One of them recruited me to join this fireteam! I am so excited I can hardly contain myself!”
        “Lockheart, Lyra here has already enlist with the Royal Equestrian Navy, if she wants to stay, you don't have a say in it, just as I don't have a say in how you'll react. So long as she wants to, she stays in this unit until her presence proves otherwise, plus she has a background in medical practice, something she was pursuing in her Navy career. This team needs a medic, and she fits the ticket nicely, unless if you know some other medic we could trust a national secret to?”
        Lockheart's look told me he did not like what was going on, but he eventually agreed, much to Lyra's joy. Alright, now the gang's all here, what's left to do? Oh, yes. Al Capony.
        “Rookies, listen up. We need you to gather in the mess hall in five mikes. I'll be meeting you there for mission briefing. Everyone else, rendezvous with me in the barracks,” I ordered.
        The greenhorns (some of which actually had green horns) all shuffled into the mess hall, everyone else shuffled off deeper into the underground fortress. I followed the latter.
        We all sat down in our respective beds. I did a quick head count: me, Pizza, Lockheart, Starfire, Fencing, Spectacles, and Major Pane. That's all the veterans.
        “Alright, here's the plan: we still need to eliminate Al Capony. All is quiet on the Zebra front, so we'll deal with that later. At present, Al Capony knows all of our faces for sure, except for mine and our recruits. I'll be in the field with the rookies as you guys remain on standby in case if the shit hits the fan. We're still ghosts to Capony this way. Additionally, you guys are better trained than these recruits, so I want you guys to train them as hard and as thoroughly as possible,” I looked directly at Lockheart, “The better trained they are, the better their chance of survival.”
        “Is that the plan?” Pizza asked.
        “For now. When we find Al Capony, we'll figure out a new plan for it. This is more like the basis of an operation than a full-blown plan.”
        “Then what will we call this operation?” Pane asked.
        “I think we'll call it... Operation: Paradigm Shift. What do you think?” I saw nods all around. Looks like things are done here. I got up to go see the recruits.

        In the mess hall, they were still goofing off amongst each other, but they hastily got back to attention when I walked in. “Settle down, this isn't that stuck-up of a unit. Just listen up and listen good. I know you're fresh out of the gate, at least by our standards, so me and the other old hands at this will get you up to scratch. You are to divide into two teams: Alpha, and Bravo. Any questions?” They better have some.
        Lyra, “Sir, who will be our team leaders?”
        “You are to elect an acting team commander, and you can stop with that whole 'sir' thing.”
        A scrawny buck asked, “Sir-... Who will be our instructors?”
        “Myself, and everyone else not in this room.”
        Cupcake said, “And what exactly are we training for?”
        “Neutralization of high-profile targets, domestic and foreign. Your target will be revealed to you in all due time, but trust me, you know of him.”
        It didn't look like there were any more questions. “Is that everything?” I asked the lot of 'em. It seemed so. “Then follow me,” I said, walking out of the mess.
        I gave them a basic tour: the barracks, the kitchen, the workshop, the observation deck (Spectacles still insisted that it was called “the Eye”), the killhouse, the shooting range, and the reactor and sensor room. I saw a few stop and stare at the Warthog, and more than one jaw drop at seeing the Mantis.
        When it was all done, I brought them back to the barracks, where the older members of this team were. “Alpha and Bravo teams, form up!” I barked.
        Two groups formed in front of me. “Alpha, you are Red Team for the training exercises. Bravo, you are Blue. Pizza, take Alpha and get them geared up. I want to see how they do on the pre-test. Bravo, you're with me.”
        I swung by Spectacles' workshop, and just as I guessed, he had finished a prototype of what he liked to call a “Battle Saddle”. I tossed my BR in it, and placed my Magnum in a magnetic holster on my left fore hoof. I then went back to Bravo, eager to test this new gear and see how an equine Mjolnir variant would perform.
        “Bravo, you are to load TTR rounds. These bullets act like a paralyzing paint on impact, but they still hurt like hell. This is a standard Slayer gametype: first team to fifty confirmed kills wins. I am expecting you to act like a unit. Now, who's your elected commander?”
        Cupcake stepped forward, “That would be me, sir!” he finished by popping a salute.
        “Bullshit, I've seen you in a fight: your lack of foresight and compassion will lead to unnecessary losses and tactical discourse. Also, you are saluting me in a battlefield; that identifies leaders, which hostiles love to eliminate first. Who really is in command?”
        Cupcake stayed standing in front of me, though he had dropped his salute.
        “Your bullshitting me... is there any competent leader here?” More than a few heads turned to me. I spotted that scrawny buck in the back, the one who asked a question earlier. “You, in the back. You're leading this team.”
        He seemed a bit at odds with himself, “Who... me?”
        I nodded.
        “But I'm just a buck Private, not even a PFC.”
        “I've seen heroes of similar rank. Get up here and lead this team.”
        “Won't you be joining us?” Cupcake asked.
        “Of course. I wasn't born a thestral, so I better learn how to fight as one.”
        The Private asked me something, “I had a few questions, Captain.”
        “Go right ahead, and my name's Joe.”
        “Alright, Joe. Who do we operate under? You seem to be the leader of this fireteam, but who do you report to?”
        “The Crimson Guard operates under royal command, but I prefer to talk with princess Luna first. Celestia doesn't have what it takes to win a war.”
        “Thanks, Joe...” it seemed I had said something to trouble him. Or maybe he was just digesting it? The lights went yellow and killed that thought.
        Boop... Boop... Boop... BOOP!
        The shields dropped and we rushed out. The Private pointed for the team to go left. With this being Blue side, that meant we were headed straight for the MG nest. Alpha may already be there...
        It looked like we beat them there, but a few of their grunts were were still staring at the shield they passed through, apparently in awe. *Bam Bam Bam* I dropped one and the rest scattered to our right, into the CQC territory. Of course, they were lead by Pizza after all.
        The downed hostile slowly crawled his way back through the reactor room's shield in order to respawn and deactivate the TTR's stun effects. The Private said, “Get to the high ground.”
        We climbed atop the MG nest. I went prone next to the gun. “Joe, how are we supposed to operate this thing?”
        I looked at the MG. Maybe... it does use a standard trigger, similar to the BR. “Like this,” I said. I dismounted my BR from the Battle Saddle prototype and slung it across my back, then I detached the MG and mounted it to my Battle Saddle. It was heavy, but I had Mjolnir with me to mitigate the weight.
        Just then I saw a certain minty face pop around the corner down range. *BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM* I let four .50 BMG slugs soar. I saw red splatter Lyra's face, and she went down. In the distance I heard someone yell, “Mare down!”
        Looks like we had them pinned. I stretched one of my wings over the mildly heated barrel of the HMG. Hmm... my wings... I've got an idea.
        “Private, permission to freely engage targets and flush them out.”
        “Sounds good to me Joe, where should we aim?”
        I pointed a hoof right.
        “Bravo, shift your aim right! Cupcake, cover the left as a contingency. Joe, do your thing.”
        I took off, flying surprisingly easily for being in Mjolnir and carrying a fifty cal. I didn't feel as though I could carry very much like this, but I could fly far enough. The leading edge armor plating on my wings would help a little bit. I guess I could call them wing-pauldrons or something similar.
        I rolled right, planting my hooves on the left wall and springing off, around the corner. I saw most of Alpha to my immediate front.
        I let the lead fly... or paint, in this case. I had dropped all the remaining recruits. I landed amongst the red paint. I walked forward slightly more, taking in everything.
        Smells: cordite, paint, various bodily odors... ozone. Plasma makes ozone, like on a Spartan's shield.
        Sights: various splotches of red, several colorful equines, and halls for days. No good there.
        Sounds: moans of pain... and- whoa. Rapid footfalls, going away from me. *Bam* *Bam* *Bam* *Bam* *Bam*
        DMR rifle reports. But even more so: I could hear the sounds reverberate throughout the building. In this room, I could feel the sounds with such sensitivity I could almost make out a map of it. But in the aftermath of each shot, the would-be image faded. I opened my eyes.
        There was only one thing Pizza would be aiming at: Bravo. I took flight again, launching off of the walls as I did before. I caught a glimpse of a red heel, but it quickly vanished around the corner in front of me. I dropped down, aiming squarely at groin level. He would not like this.
        I see red! And London... and France... *BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM* Tango down.
        Pizza dropped to the floor, clutching his boy bits. “Sorry buddy, a kill's a kill.”
        *Ratatatatatatatatata* A series of 7.62x51mm NATO cartridges pelted my side. My shields failed and I collapsed under the onslaught. I looked to my left. Lyra, fresh from spawn.
        “Get away from my human!” she yelled.
        Pizza and I looked at one another and just started laughing. She had no idea what I was before all this batty-ness. And to think, I forgot about our spawn system, too.
        She looked confused. But her face, though. Just looking at it doubled our laughs. Eventually, all the recruits slowly climbed out and started to try and figure out what we were laughing about.
        “Alright... that's enough,” I squeezed out my last few laughs, getting up, as did Pizza.
        “Lyra, you have no idea, do you?” Pizza said.
        She somehow looked even more confused than before. I was at war with myself trying to hold back my laughs. “Lyra,” I began, “I was a human, much like my numb-nut friend here, before I joined up with the Night Guard. I am still operating as Crimson's Captain, though.”
        “Wait... so you were a human? Why did you want to be a pony, then?” she sounded offended.
        “Versatility. Spectacles is working on something that'll allow me to change back at the drop of a hat, but it would be safer and faster to be transmogrified first, with Luna doing the procedure.”
        “And when was this?” she asked.
        “About twelve hours ago. I'm still getting used to some of the intricacies of equine life, but I'm doing pretty fine now.”
        “Can I ever become a human?”
        “I don't know, you'll have to talk with Luna about that, she seems to be an expert in that particular field. Also, you might want to wash that paint off soon. When it dries, it's tough as nails.”

        We seemed to get everything we needed to know about the recruits in order to start a higher-caliber training regime. Spectacles was still working on his talisman armor ability, so he was excused from this exercise. We were at the gun range.
        “Rank, name and talent,” I ordered as the recruits were getting in line for gunnery practice. First one up was the scrawny, brown-coated Private from earlier.
        “Private Footfall. I tend to be rather quiet even when I'm not trying to be.”
        I wrote his name in chalk on the blackboard behind me. “Next.”
        “Master Chief Petty Officer Daze. Knockouts are what I specialize in.”
        He was a big, burly buck, but not quite as big as Cupcake. His coat was OD green. “Next.”
        “Rear Admiral Solace. Finishing the fight.”
        He had a blue coat with white whiskers sprouting from his chin. His buzz cut still showed all of his gray hairs. “Next.”
        “Technician Fifth Grade Keen Eye. I tend to perceive things others cannot.”
        It was the same Keen Eye from way back in the Whitetail Woods. Hopefully he wouldn't be anyone's prisoner on my watch. “Next.”
        “Cap- Second Lieutenant Cupcake. I ain't what my name implies.”
        Apparently he was busted down from Captain since we last met. “Short fuse, got it. Next.”
        He got red faced, but moved on anyway. I bet 20 credits he washes out. Next up was the mint-colored recruit Lockheart called Lyra.
        “Seaman Recruit Heartstrings. I can play the lyre.”
        There were a few snickers from the rest of the recruits, but Pizza's death glare silenced them quickly. I put up blanks after their names for scores, then made another list for the veterans of this outfit.
        The board read:
                        Away                                Home
                PVT Footfall                __        CAP Joe                __
                MCPO Daze                __        ENS Pizza                __
                RDML Solace                __        PVT Fencing                __
                T/5 Keen Eye                __        COL Lockheart        __
                2LT Cupcake                __        CPL Starfire                __
                SR Heartstrings        __        MAJ Pane                __
                                Total:        __                        Total:        __

        “Alright, team, it looks like we're ready for scoring. One mag each, 10 points for center mass, half for headshots. We want to drop 'em, not show off. Points are scaled for accuracy. Highest score by the end of the week wins. Lyra, you're up first.”
        She grabbed her ponified MA5D and went up to the sandbags. “Lyra, take careful aim. Short controlled burst will do wonders against the target, and make sure your stance can take the recoil. Shoot as you exhale, and, if need be, shoot between heartbeats for enhanced accuracy at extreme range.”
        “I'll do my best...” she said, none too confident.

        Her best she did. Everyone had a go at the range, and as expected, the veterans all performed well. Scores now read:
                        Away                                Home
                PVT Footfall                167        CAP Joe                320
                MCPO Daze                178        ENS Pizza                287
                RDML Solace                206        PVT Fencing                250
                T/5 Keen Eye                231        COL Lockheart        236
                2LT Cupcake                086        CPL Starfire                297
                SR Heartstrings        195        MAJ Pane                238
                                Total:        1063                        Total:        1628

        “Unfortunately it seems you recruits are still terrible at shooting. Lyra, Keen Eye and Solace, you did fine. Fine isn't good enough for this unit, so you'll need to do better. I'll re-tally the scores at the end of the week. Anyone below 230 gets transferred back to their old unit. Count your scores daily, the range is always open, save for when there is a mission brief,” I told the newbies.
        All in all, they did fairly good. I just want to see if they can do better. I wasn't too surprised with my score, I was the designated sniper for Crimson back on Requiem. What really surprised me was the scores of Starfire and Pane. I haven't done any live ops with Pane, so seeing him perform this good was astonishing. Starfire came the closest to the 300 point mark. I'd like to see how this team performs with longer-range targets.
        For now, I needed to check and see if Spectacles has made any advancements. “Team, refer to Pizza and Fencing for this next phase of training. They'll teach you all about getting down and dirty up close,” I trotted off to the workshop, leaving Alpha and Bravo teams to train.
        Inside, I found some very bright sparks flying all over the place and recognized the smell of ozone. Spectacles was welding something. There was a pause, and I said, “Ya done?”
        Spectacles' head popped up from the other side of the monitors. He still had his face shield down. He lifted it and said, “Sorry, I was just working on something. I just needed to take my mind off of the transmogrification talismans. I've made serious progress on it, tough. The only thing I can't nail down is getting rid of the bleeding effect. I'm not sure why, but after every iteration, it is the only problem to persist.”
        “Do you have any ideas as to why?” I asked, stepping around to see what he was working on.
        “No... well, a few. It just is odd, though. I've worked out every little problem, even the ones causing harm to the users, but I can't get this one thing sorted. Maybe it just isn't supposed to be?”
        “Even if it is, I'd still like a perfect armor ability. I have a feeling we'll need it to finish off Al Capony. Anyways, is that a Mongoose you're building?”
        “Exactly! I saw the design for it on these consoles and wanted to try and replicate it in order to learn how it operates. Quite fascinating the hydrogen fuel cell is... I might be able to build an internal combustion engine for Equestria if all goes smoothly.”
        “Okay, just tell me if you see any 'Classified' stamps on anything or if there's too much black ink. Also, how has progress been made on the Steel Ranger armor?”
        “Oh, I've since upgraded its design, making it more ergonomic. It now doesn't take quite as much power, which let's me lighten the power supply and thus, the armor. I've also copied a few systems from Mjolnir to try and make the armor better, but I'm not having much success. I'll probably have to work off of a different platform to figure that stuff out.”
        “So you've made the armor lighter and more energy-efficient?”
        “Yep, pretty much!”
        “Alright, and this Mongoose may come in handy when a Warthog would be too bulky.”
        “I'm almost done with it, just a few more hours of work...”
        “A few more hours? Dawn broke just a few hours ago. Do you even sleep?”
        “Not when I have Starbucked coffee!”
        “Shit, Spectacles, sleep! Now. That's an order. I need you well-rested for when you handle operations, and if you're not sleeping, I can't trust your perception.”
        “Have you even tried Starbucked coffee? It is fantastic!”
        “I hate coffee. And tea for that matter...”
        “Oh, but you haven't tried Starbucked! I can't stand other brands of coffee, not even homebrews, but I'm always in the mood for Starbucked!”
        “Okay... I'll check it out. For now, you need to go to sleep.”
        “Alright, see you in a day or two.”
        How long has it been since he last slept? I don't think he ever went to bed since I found him after the first Caesar engagement. What if there is something in the coffee? That would explain a lot of things. I guess I will be checking it out. Starfire's the closest I've got to a dedicated chemist, she should be able to tell me what's in that stuff, but referring to an expert would be better still.
        Gunshots rang out through the base, my enhanced hearing told me it came from the range. Guess someone is trying to improve their score. The rest of the recruits are probably about done with CQC training, knowing how hard Pizza likes to play. We need them to be as good as possible at CQC, else the Zebras will tear them apart.
        I walked back to the mess hall to get a bite to eat. Pizza was sitting down with a few recruits as well as Lockheart and Pane. I snagged an MRE that smelled of chocolate. I like this new nose.
        “What's up?” I asked as I found my seat. Lyra was really close to Pizza, but it seemed as though he didn't mind.
        “We were just chattin' about how we should go about applying our skills and talents. Footfall here doesn't want to lead any team, he thinks he should focus on stealth,” Pizza told me.
        “Well, I want him to do both. After week one, I think I'll reassign squads into specialized teams.”
        “Sounds like a plan. You okay with that, Footfall?”
        “Sounds good, but I still don't think its best for the team to have me leading them. Maybe you could choose someone else?”
        “Footfall, your very questioning of your leadership being the best for the team shows that you are putting the team first. This is good for commanders, but I think you should also consider finding a secondary commander. Pizza's my second in command, but Lockheart's my secondary commander for this team. If I can't be here, Pizza leads. If the team needs to split, Lockheart leads team two.”
        “Thanks, I'll consider that. It would come in handy.”
        I ripped open the MRE. Bingo, M&Ms! I really like this new nose. I started munching on some.
        “Pizza, do you know where Starfire is? I have a mission for her.”
        “She's down at the range. What sort of mission is it?”
        “The 'two to tango' kind. We should be back by nightfall. Take everyone through some more advanced training and wargames until I'm back.”
        “Roger that, sir.”
        I trotted across the hall to the range. Fencing and Starfire were instructing Cupcake over proper firearm usage. Cupcake was refusing to listen. He let loose an 18 round burst. Only the first shot hit his target.
        “Easy Cupcake, you can't send any Corporal Soups to assassinate poor old Mr. Plywood,” I said.
        “What did you say?” Cupcake asked, looking up from his rifle.
        “Well, when it came to me, you sent an assailant after me by the name of CPL Soup. Isn't that your normal protocol, or am I just special?”
        “It was you who killed that manticore?”
        “Yeah, and still you insisted on using a knife when we first met face-to-face.”
        “You were that bipedal... thing?!”
        He lifted his rifle off of the sandbags and started shifting it my way. That was it, he was out of this outfit! I used my Thruster Pack to dodge right. *Ratatatatatatatata* Nine round pinged to my left side. He has five rounds left in his mag.
        I flapped my wings and dodged upwards, rolling when I reached the ceiling. I was running on the ceiling thanks to Mjolnir's magnetic boots. *Ratata* Three rounds. He has two left.
        I dropped down in front of him, having him at my 6 o'clock. I was within his reach, so I bucked his jaw with all the force I could muster in my hind legs. *Rata-click* His last two round went far off to my right, the rifle clicked empty.
        He clattered to the ground, unconscious. Blood poured out of his mouth. Fencing and Starfire were rushing over. I recounted events in my head; it lasted no longer than a second or two. What the hell was this guy's problem?
        “Fencing, tell me you saw that.”
        “I did, sir. Why did he try firing on you?”
        “Maybe he wanted to finish what he started. Maybe he's working for Caesar. Maybe I just forgot to wear deodorant. Regardless, arrest him and tell the princess what just happened. Luna knows this isn't the first time he's done this to me.”
        “Alright, sir, but where should I detain him?”
        “Canterlot has a dungeon beneath the castle. Throw him in there until someone cares enough to pull him out. In the mean time, Starfire, I have a mission for you.”
        “A mission? Just after somepony tried to gun you down?”
        “Happens all the time. Anyways, we need to go get some coffee.”
        And off we went. The sun was bright and it took longer than usual for my eyes to adjust. It still seemed a bit too bright, so I upped the polarization on my visor a little. We found ourselves the nearest Starbucked café.
        “Starfire, Spectacles has been exhibiting signs of addiction to malicious substances. Most of all, he seems to have found a dependence on Starbucked coffee. You're the closest thing we have to a chemist, so I'll need you to figure out what is in their coffee. I have a feeling these two pieces of evidence may be linked.”
        “So you want me to buy a cup of coffee?”
        “Exactly. Personally I hate the stuff, and the place has a very strong smell to it. I might not be able to stay standing if I went inside.”
        “Excuses for you not wanting to go into the coffee shop.”
        “I hate the stuff...”
        “Fair enough...” Starfire walked towards the café, entering it. I waited a moment, trying to take in everything. I closed my eyes to think things over.
        We'll need Spectacles for any action against Al Capony. There might be something in the coffee. These coffee shops are everywhere, just like ponies with connections to Al Capony. All the while, I am smelling cordite, cheap hair gel, and cigarette smoke. No one in Crimson smokes. I am also hearing hoofsteps approaching. I opened my eyes.
        Quickly I heard the hoofsteps getting ever nearer. I decided to walk away, towards an alley. The hoofsteps hastened, still following me. I rounded the corner, entering the alleyway, then turned again, breaking any line-of-sight this tail had on me.
        I was hiding near a dumpster that was particularly smelly when I saw the hooves fall in front of my dumpster. I stopped my breathing. I pressed myself lower to the ground, bringing my follower into view from underneath the dumpster.
        Pin-striped suit. Well, shit, I'm in the pan and Starfire's probably in the fire. I looked closely at this suspect: facial features didn't matter much, but he did have a slight bulge on his right foreleg. Maybe an ankle holster? That would explain the cordite. He also reeked of coffee. I do not like this colt.
        He started looking around, searching the alleyway for me. When he walked around to check my dumpster, I moved around the dumpster with him. It was like a do-see-do of death. His head popped up, mine shot down. He went to my right, I went left. I wasn't making a sound, unlike him.
        Eventually he stopped searching, and went to leave the alleyway. I decided to follow him. He paused slightly when he stepped out of the alley. He quickly looked right, I jumped left to stay out of sight. He looked left, so I took to the skies, landing on a rooftop overhead.
        He took one last glance into the alley, then went back from where I heard him first coming from. He was moving away from the café. I followed.
        He trekked across half the city before I found him at the Cloud 9 Apartments. This place, from what I can recall, uses high-quality, super soft, clouds from Cloudsdale in its bedding. It's a pretty pricey place to stay. Clearly this guy had connections.
        I followed him inside, sticking to the shadows as often as possible. Finally, he found his room. I made sure never to have a direct line-of-sight with him, using my fiber-optic cable to spy on him instead. It was standard on all Mjolnir suits for a reason.
        This cable proved its worth when he checked left and right again, completely missing the small cable sticking out from around the corner. Without it, I would've been spotted. He fumbled with his keys a little, I saw the number 138 on the one he chose. His ass is mine, once he leaves.
        He entered the same numbered room. I heard his door click shut, then the sound of it being locked and deadbolted. I listened with all my might, and sure enough, I heard the sound of a magazine sliding out of a pistol. Then he racked the slide, ejecting the chambered round. Then the safety clicked, hopefully into the “on” position.
        I guessed he was out for blood. My blood. I'll have to assume he is associated with Al Capony. I'll raid his place come the morn of tomorrow. Meanwhile, I kind of left Starfire hanging. I slipped out of the apartment complex, taking a window exit. I flew back to the café, largely by nose.
        “Sorry I kept you waiting. Seems I picked up a tail.”
        “Someone was following you?”
        “Seemed so, but I doubt he would recognize me outright, with this new look and all. We'll need to intercept any mail coming from room 138 in the Cloud 9 Apartments. I think he was Mafia.”
        “Sounds like you're getting rather popular, then. Al Capony must hate us after what we did to his Cloudsdale chapter.”
        “Regardless, I think its best we get out of here. There is always more than one in a team, and it takes two to tango. I think the Nerve Center might have some wise-guys that'll analyze the coffee. I think we should head off to there next.”
        We marched off, side-by-side. I was staying alert, keeping everything noted, even that banana peel on the ground.
        Nothing.
        We waltzed into the castle, the three guards overhead waved us in.
        “The Nerve Center is just past the thrones, up the stairs. It doesn't matter which path you take, so long as it's up,” I said to Starfire.
        “Got it, but how do I know they'll let me in?”
        “Because I'm here. They won't cause us much trouble.”
        We walked right up to the thrones. There was quite a crowd, but they let us through, given we were guardsmen and I had my “di di mau” look. Celestia greeted us.
        “What is it my little ponies?” she said as we approached.
        “Milady, we need to get to the Nerve Center. We require a chemical analysis of some suspicious materials.”
        “For what business, might I ask?”
        “Crimson business.”
        With a wave of her wing, she motioned us through. I lead Starfire up the stairs. At the top, we found the two Lunar Guards at the doorway to the Nerve Center. I walked up to them, depolarizing my visor. They stepped aside. Without glancing sideways I walked right between them, as did Starfire.
        Inside it was just as busy as it was the first time I was here. I announced, “Does anyone here specialize in chemical analysis?” The whole room slowed for a second, exactly one second.
        Then everything picked right back up, only a griffon approached us. He was lean-cut, but still had notable muscle build. The lab coat and goggles looked a little off on him, but he rocked it. On top of that, his feathers and fur were of the same black and brown blend. He stood a head taller than most of his colleagues.
        “That would be me,” he said.
        “I am Captain Joe, this here is Corporal Starfire. We need you to do a chemical analyses of this here coffee. I have reason to believe there may be some narcotics in it.”
        “Sure thing, oh, and I'm Aegis by the way. But what makes you think this has narcotics in it?”
        “Just a hunch right now, but lesser hunches have saved my life before.”
        “Alrighty, then. I should be able to get you solid results in a day or two.”
        “I guess I'll be seeing you then, Aegis.”
        “Fare thee well, Joe and Starfire...” his gaze lingered a second too long on Starfire. Guess he was either a smitten kitten, or a bird brain. Probably both.
        We left the Nerve Center, I nodded my thanks towards the guards as we left. “I'll need you to RTB and make sure the recruits are up to snuff on everything. Help them out at the firing range if you need to.”
        “You sound like you're not coming with.”
        “I need to re-train on a lot of my equipment, now that I'm a pony.”
        “How about a flying lesson, then?” she said as she headed towards the landing pad. I followed.
        She walked out onto the landing pad, spreading her wings wide. “Flying's a bit like swimming, just in air. You want to maintain downward air flow while moving your wings. Flapping them like you see in cartoons will get you nowhere; you'll end up pushing air up as much as down. It should come to you naturally, as it does most pegasi.” She slowly started flapping her wings, exaggerating the motions for my benefit. I matched them as best I could, then sped them up a little. I was airborne.
        “You know, short pulses are easy enough for me, but I haven't clocked any real flight time with these things. Before, I would just use it like a more diverse Thruster Pack.”
        “I guess that would be fine, but wings are for flight. Best to learn it all, then.”
        “I'll have to agree with that. Knowledge is power, even if ignorance is bliss. Guess it's a burden the few bear so that others won't have to.”
        “Well said, Joe. Now, try moving forward a bit. I find it easiest to lean forward a little. Once you get enough speed, you want to position yourself like you're in a bullet dive, but horizontal. Make sure to keep your wings tucked in slightly on the upstroke. Pegasus magic, seeing as it applies to thestrals, should help with most of the flying part.”
        “I'll give it a shot,” I said as I slowly started accelerating forward. Starfire kept pace with me, making sure I didn't falter. I quickly noticed I wasn't getting any significant speed, but she had a remedy to that.
        “Now, if you want any good speed, you'll want to make sure your wings are folded down slightly on the upstroke, but spread wide on the down stroke.”
        I applied this to my technique, and suddenly I was a half-ton bullet. I started noticing a lot of acceleration. It was like I hit WEP on a plane. Starfire was keeping pace pretty well, though. I maintained my heading, closing my eyes and focusing on remembering the feelings through my body. When I opened them, I almost ran into Luna. I flared my wings, stopping as quickly as I could.
        “Joe, nice to see you have learned how to fly.”
        “Sorry, milady. I almost ran into you. Rough start, I guess.”
        “Some thestrals take several months to learn flight.”
        “Yeah, I can see that. Are there any other thestral tricks I haven't learned of yet?”
        “There are several unique attributes of the thestrals, but they are best discovered on your own. Otherwise, the effort itself may find you discouraged from finding it, or you my overexert yourself over the mundane.”
        “Understood, milady. Is there any new developments from Al Capony?”
        “Not much, soldier. He has been staying in the tower at Marecago, not making any expeditions outside. Guards have reported an increase in his guard numbers. I think he might be frightened. You lurk in his nightmares, though not in your current form. He has now surpassed Lyra in the number of books checked out from libraries pertaining to humans. I think only Twilight may have studied more...”
        “Seems like he's trying to know more about his enemies. How accurate are the texts he's checked out?”
        “They are mostly tales of legend, and idle speculation. One of the books contains a scientific analysis of how human physiology could exist, but remember that you and your friend are the first humans Equestria has ever seen. Neither Celestia nor myself have ever seen one until you two showed up. Before your appearance, humans were but an urban legend.”
        “So I take it he won't know much, but he'll know something. And we have him scared. We should take him down soon, make sure to provide what diversionary operations you can, keep his eyes off of Crimson. Then we might have chance at doing this quickly.”
        I left Luna so she could brush out the finer details of everything. Remembering the tail from earlier, I took an alternate route back to the Shipping District once Starfire rejoined the formation. I snuck back into the artificial cave Equestria was using for storage in the Shipping District. I made my way over to Crimson HQ.
        “Joe!” Spectacles greeted me at the door, “I've just finished the transmogrification talisman!”
        “Really? That's great!”
        “Yes, but there are some caveats. First: it isn't a transmogrification spell that Luna has been using, but rather a hybridization spell. It was imperfect originally, so the spell would always overshoot its mark and ultimately cause a complete species change.”
        “Like what's happened to me?”
        “Exactly. That 'bleeding' effect wasn't a side effect, it was the effect. I'm not sure how you would take it, but I put together an armor ability for it, biometrically coded to you specifically.”
        “Well, I'd like to test it out, but it'll have to wait until after we take down Al Capony.”
        “Got it. I'll keep it in the workshop for when you need it.”
        “Okay. Say, how are the recruits' scores fairing?”
        “You'll have to see for yourself, some have made great progress.”
        “I was hoping to hear 'all'.”
        Sure enough, many had improved their scores beyond to 230 mark. I had erased Cupcake from the list of names. Footfall was at 225, just shy of the mark, but aside from that, all were above, if barely. I could roll with that in my team.

        The end of the week came around, and Footfall had upped his score by exactly five points. Looks like everyone is sitting pretty. I ordered to recruits and Spectacles to report for mission briefing in the mess hall. I had already told Pizza to find something for the rest of the team to do while we were away, but to remain on standby for evac, should the need arise.
        I rolled out a map of Marecago. “This is our AO. Our target: Al Capony. This is capture/kill, so we will be using live rounds for this run. You've all done admirably in training, but now is the time to prove it.”
        Spectacles took the helm, “Our interrogations have yielded us with intel to suggest Capony does his business in the clock tower that dominates this port city. This will only allow us to assault from the front, so we'll need a diversion.”
        I took the helm of this conversation back, “My intent is a smash and grab. There is a bank in town, and I figure staging an armed robbery there will thoroughly distract Capony's men. This will be the window you'll need to slip in, Footfall. If you get caught, just feign that you were a freed hostage who didn't know where to go. Otherwise, you'll be gathering as much intel you can about his base of operations. Once you've got enough, get out of there. We'll rendezvous back at the port when it's all over. Any questions?”
        “Sir, is it just to be me to infiltrate the tower?”
        “Yes, any additional personnel would make too large of a footprint. You'll start out in the bank. When the lead starts to fly, make a break for Capony's tower.”
        “What are we doing during all of this?” CPL Daze asked.
        “We'll be robbing a bank. I'll have Spectacles doctor a few documents here and there to make it look like we're part of a new gang outfit. Capony'll view us as a bunch of wannabes. Any funds stolen will be handed in to Luna. Everyone who was in previous engagements against the Mafia will remain on standby as reinforcements in case if things escalate.”
        It didn't seem like there were any more questions, “Rendezvous at the docks in fifteen mikes for departure.”

____________________________________________________________________________________________


        “Lieutenant, if ‘the Shades’ were supposed to be so secret, why are you telling us about them?”
        “Times changed, Admiral. When fire rained down, they shut themselves in. When I returned, I told them of the world beyond.”
        “I take it this ‘transmogrification spell’ is why you appear as you do now?”
        “For the most part, doctor.”
        “And how do you explain revealing classified operations data to this ‘Princess Luna’ that you seem so fond of?”
        “What are you talking about, Admiral?”
        “Your last excursion on Requiem, Lieutenant. You revealed classified intelligence to someone who didn’t have the clearance for it. That entire operation is classified tier one.”
        “Sir, it doesn’t matter now, anyways. Plus, it was a dream. Last I checked, it’s not illegal to dream in the UEG, Admiral, unless if times really have changed in my absence...”
        “A lot has changed, Lieutenant.”
        “Admiral, maybe we should tell him what we’re really interrogating him for?”
        “Negative, doctor, he’ll tell us everything we need in all due time. Proceed, Lieutenant.”
        “Yes, sir…”

> Ch 9 Redeployment
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	 I was standing beside Admiral Nautical again when the recruits joined us. I filled him in on what we needed to do (as well as my new face) and he graciously accepted the job. “Alright team, I need you to stowaway on several crates to make this look good. I'll also need you to don your gang attire for this, with exception to Footfall: I'll need you in a suit.”
        The recruits did as I asked, and we were underway shortly thereafter.
        We looked like hammered shit, which was good, I guess. Footfall looked like a stockbroker with too much funding up his ass. Also good. Footfall would get to the bank first, then a few minutes later, we'd pop up to assail the place.

        I counted down the minutes. One, two, three... five... nine... fifteen. Time to go. I opened up the crate, daylight finding my face. I knocked on the other crates my team was in, each one opening up in turn. I checked the ammo on my battle saddle, TTR rounds with extra red paint. This would be a good day.
        “Alright team, check your ammo: TTR only, we are not here to be the enemy, only to look like one. The bank is near Capony's front door, so he will have eyes on us while we run this op. Let's do this fast and smooth. Do as I say, and we probably won't wind up in prison.”
        “Sir, what about masks?” asked Daze.
        “The balaclavas you were provided should suffice. You all are great shots, so I don't want to see any low blows or headshots. TTR hurts, and it'd hurt a lot more in those places. Center mass to do this fast. Everyone ready?”
        “Yes, sir.”
        “One last thing, I suggest we refrain from referring to one another in a military fashion. We're supposed to be wannabe gangsters, not private military. Refer to me as 'Boss', if you'd like.”
        “Got it, boss.”
        “Alright, let's get going.”
        We casually walked out of the docks where the Benevolent Exchange was sitting pretty. Our rag-tag outfits made us fit in with various dock workers, but our battle saddles made us stand out. I quickened my pace slightly, the others following suit.
        Up ahead it looked like a couple ponies were going to give us trouble. I gave them my “we're heading exactly where we need to go” look, with a touch of “you don't want any of what I got”. They stepped aside, I didn't break stride. A hundred and fifty yards later, we were outside the bank. I looked to the team.
        “Masks on,” I whispered, donning my own balaclava. “Daze, stun.”
        I heard the pin on Starfire's homemade 9-bang drop to the ground. Daze hefted the thing to the side, readying to throw it. He made sure to keep the striker lever depressed, like a good little soldier. “Solace, if we get split, you're in charge of whoever you're with. Breaching in Three... Two... One... BREACHING!”
        I opened the door and in went the 9-bang. I shut it until I heard all nine detonations. I opened the door wide afterwards, letting the whole bushel of recruits bum rush in. There was still smoke hanging around from the explosions. Leading by example, I started muscling the civies to the ground, knowing they wouldn't be hearing clearly any time soon. The bank's masonry walls had great acoustics.
        As I shove Footfall's face into the stone floor, I saw a guard holding a shiny new pistol. I guess he never fired it before. I turned to face him and fired a three-round burst into his chest. *Ratatat!* He went numb and collapsed with red splattered across his chest. As far as everyone else was concerned, I just killed him.
        The ponies started talking a bit more, so I guessed that the deafening effects were wearing off. They were already tied up on the ground, so they posed no threat. (Wow, the recruits worked fast!)Thinking on my feet (or hooves, in this case), I jumped onto a table in the middle of the room.
        I fired five rounds into the ceiling. *Ratatatatat!* “Listen up and listen good, my little ponies,” I announced in my best intimidating, projected voice. They seemed to settle down. “We do not mean to inflict harm onto you. Our quarrel is monetary, our solution guaranteed. Do not try to hinder us in our endeavor, else you would make like the hasty security colt, and fall in such actions. We seek the bank's currency, not you own. Do not be a hero.”
        I jumped off of the table, trotting up to the most nicely dressed stallion in the room. I would estimate he wore a 8,000 credit suit. “Are you the manager?”
        He barely lifted his face up to greet mine. I gave him a sadistic smile, showing off my new fangs. A foul smell irradiated from his posterior. Now he wore a 0 credit suit. “Yes...” he barely muttered between his trembling and unexpected bowel movements.
        “Then we have need of you yet. You heard our proclamations, will you assist us? Or do you wish to hinder us, like the security guard?” I intensified my glare at him. The smell of urea came to my nose. Something tells me this guy can't handle the sight of war.
        He shakily stood up and trotted to the back counters. Nearing the vault, I'd presume.
        “Boss, we've got company!” Daze said, in a fake southern accent.
        I looked towards where he was pointing. A local guard contingent was inbound, most likely from the Benevolent Exchange. I knew the 9-bang would draw unwanted attention. I took aim and fired at them. *Ratatat!* The rounds landed shy, causing the guards to stay back a while longer. They were unarmed, after all. They were panicking too, each claiming the other got hit.
        “Make haste with the vault, you wouldn't like to be used you as a meat-shield, would you?” I told the manager. He seemed to agree, trying the combination lock some more. How hard could one combo lock be, anyway?
        I remained vigilant as more guards formed up around their comrades. We didn't have much ammo, but they don't know that. I fired a burst at the two from earlier. *Ratatat!* I hit one of the in the shoulder. He fell over as the other tried to drag him away.
        I looked to my left and saw the manager trying desperately to pull open the vault door. Apparently he put in the wrong combination. “We do not have time for this!” I shoved him aside and placed my ear against the vault.
        Click... click... click... click... click... Got one down. I moved on to the next number. I could almost make an image of the tumblers in my head just off of the acoustics of it... almost.
        More gunshots erupted, and I heard more screams from out front. Another 9-bang went off. Solace was barking a few orders in a Russian accent. I was having some trouble with number two on this lock. The manager's stench wasn't helping.
        Almost there... click... Bingo. Now on to number three. I heard Solace give the order to fall back to my location. This time gunshots were coming from outside. Two more 9-bangs went off. I could almost visualize the tumblers in my head, but the fighting was getting too loud to effectively hear that last tumbler. I had to guess, based on what I felt was right from the previous observations.
        Click. We're golden. The door swung open and inside were piles of golden bits. Conveniently, there was a money bag inside. I could hear the guards continue their advance, forcing the recruits back. It wasn't looking like we could just waltz out the front door (which, hopefully, Footfall did). If I remember right, Daze should have plan B.
        “Daze, we need a door!” I called out.
        He nodded and disengaged from the fight. I took his place along our lines. I saw several guards and laid down suppressing fire. They scrambled for cover. *BOOM!*
        Starfire's own mix of Comp C plastiqué. Somehow, she seemed to be able to make it more explosive. I really hope she doesn't mind us using her supplies for this op.
        “Let's bounce!” I yelled to the recruits. One by one, they followed my orders, leaving through the hole in the wall. I was last to follow.
        “What now, boss?” Heartstrings asked.
        “Now we skedaddle. Follow me!” I ran off towards the docks.

        Somehow, we escaped. We all thanked Admiral Nautical for the ride to and from. We had all ditched the disguises in the ocean, and the Benevolent Exchange was nearing Canterlot. I stretched my wings a bit. Today we earned our pay. Tomorrow, we keep it.

        “Alright, team, you ain't green no more. Great job out there. We'll try some more advanced training tomorrow. For now, go get some rest or some grub. You've more than earned it,” I told the not-so-green rookies as I wandered over to the mess hall.
        I sat down with some hard tack. Then I decided, “fuck it, I've earned it” and swapped it out with some steak and a bottle of Sparkle-Cola. The cap said “Not a winner, maybe next time!” Nothing like the chance at a free drink to get people drinking more.
        I was halfway through my steak when I noticed something: absolute quiet. Normally there would always be at least some commotion. I listened more closely. I could hear: my heart beating softly, the recruits breathing quietly as they slept, and the hum of the lights and generator. I only counted five breathing patterns beside my own. I snuck out of the mess hall, heading towards the back of the HQ.
        The workshop was dead quiet, and it had a finished Mongoose in it. I checked the rear generator room. Nothing, just the Mantis sitting pretty. I went back and checked the Eye. Spectacles would normally be here to provide overwatch for any op that we'd be running. Where was he? It isn't like he is a combatant.
        The Eye was empty, but I saw some activity on the monitors. There was snow... a lot of it. Sporadic gunfire from one skirmish line to another. I saw several Equestrian soldiers get gunned down. It looked like a sniper had them pinned. It was an urban environment: masonry buildings on either side of this cold street our boys were fighting in. Why weren't they inside?
        Then I noticed that there were no other soldiers. Just this squad, surrounded. I saw a red blinking light on the keyboard. Somehow I hit it with my hoof on the first try. Audio came through.
        “This is Sergeant...” [Static] “...immediate assistance...” [Static] “...Stalliongrad...” [Static] “...Zulu Fox...” [Static] “We...” [Static]“...Evac now!” [Static] The message got washed out with white noise. Were the hostiles using a jammer? Can't say for sure.
        Zulu Fox... Zebra Forces, easy enough. Stalliongrad? I had no idea where that was. I would have to guess somewhere up North. Bottom line, they were in trouble. And they sounded Russian, but that was beside the point.
        I started fiddling around with the different menus on one of the monitors. Eventually, I found the “world map” button. I zoomed out and tried to look for Stalliongrad... Bingo. Wait... a half dozen friendly IFF tags were moving with incredible speed towards Stalliongrad. They stopped abruptly when they reached the city.
        I caught a glimpse of something on one of the other monitors. A black dot in the distance, zooming towards the camera. It's been a while since I've been flying fighters, but... that looks like the Pelican.
        It continued to approach, and sure enough, it was the Pelican. Spectacles was flying the thing! Where the hell's Pizza? I saw Spectacles open up with the chin-gun, blasting apart the façade on one building. Then the bird passed slowly over the Stalliongrad soldiers.
        A rain of steel came pouring out of the back hatch. Four suits of Steel Ranger power armor, and a red suit of Mjolnir came out of the back. The Steel Ranger armor looked a fair bit improved from the version that was at Well-met. I take it these were the Mk IIs?
        Pizza still had his DMR, a good choice for counter-sniping, I'd say. He also had a rocket launcher on his back. Given the agility of the Zebras (and accuracy too, apparently), it wasn't the best choice of armament.
        The Steel Rangers had better guns, too. It looked like the ARs they had were swapped out for something more akin to BR85HB Service Rifles. I glanced in the direction of the armory, thinking of my Arctic camo Battle Rifle.
        Looks like they meant business, but all I could do was sit here and watch. Or... maybe. There might be a way to get there in time. I marched into the workshop and found the transmogrification armor ability.
        I swapped my Thruster Pack out for it. I turned it on.

 That was something I could never get used to. It felt like my insides were being turned inside out. I barely managed to take my helmet off before I vomited up my steak. Good thing I didn't finish it. I paused as I grabbed my helmet. I looked into the golden visor.
        The face gazing back was most definitely human, but I had slit eyes... and fangs... but no wings. Just when I was getting used to them, too.
        When I put the helmet on, the auto-doc seemed a bit confused as to my anatomy. I overrode its preservation setting, changing it from “optimal” to “maintain”. If I had any chronic condition, it wouldn't help it. It would take a full physical to reset it properly, but the clock was ticking.
        I clenched my reacquired hands tightly into fists. That felt good, feeling my fingers again.
        I marched my way back over to the armory. I opened one of the weapon crates. I grabbed a Jet Pack. I grabbed two of each grenade type. I grabbed by Battle Rifle and the SRS99-S5 AM Rifle. Let's rock.
        I left a note on a table in the mess hall for the recruits. I left the HQ and went straight to the Castle. I went to the nearest Lunar Guard in the barracks that wasn't asleep. I depolarized my visor, “Hey there, I need to find Princess Luna.”
        He seemed a little annoyed until he looked me in the eye. Then a shadow of a hint of a smile graced his grizzled face and he said, “She's in the observatory. Take a right just past the thrones.”
        “Thank you,” I ambled off, walking right through the crowd of various aristoponies and politicians until I reached the throne. I nodded to Celestia as I walked by. She seems a little bit surprised at my being (semi-)human again. The Royal Guards started to move like they wanted to stop me, but the Lunar Guard made sure to set the example for them to followed, letting me pass.
        I looked at the staircases, then looked a bit further right and found the door to the observatory. A lone Lunar Guard was outside. “I need to see the Princess. This is urgent.”
        “She has requested solitude.”
        “I don't care. Lives are being lost right now, and I need to help. Otherwise, her little SF fireteam may become a lone operative very soon. Am I understood?”
        “Yessir, but she was adamant about what she said.”
        I gave him my most intimidating stare possible. Back in my Marine days, a Corporal started a rumor that I froze a lake (and the Covenant on it) with such a stare. I could see why he started it as I looked at this guard. “Milady, you have a visitor!” he called up the path to the observatory.
        “Tell him I want to be left alone.”
        “This ain't the kind of thing that can wait, Luna,” I said.
        “Joe? Give me a second.” One Mississippi. “Come on up.”
        I walked right past the guard and up the path to the observatory. Luna was laying down studying a star chart. “What was that all about?” I asked.
        “Nothing, now what did you want to see me about?” She was hiding something, but I couldn't say what. Knowing her, if it is kept from me, it is probably best I don't know about it. She was also unsurprised by my being human again. She really is that good, huh?
        “Stalliongrad is under siege. My team went in without me, taking my only ride out there. They are ill equipped to deal with the threat in the city. Can you teleport me there?”
        She stared at me for a second worry tinged her face, “No, such a spell would take an unprecedented amount of magic. Plus, I am not familiar with the city. I know its locale, but I can't get you anywhere unless if I know the layout.”
        “Why's that?”
        “Ever materialize inside a wall?”
        “Got it, so why not above it?”
        “I have a feeling the fall would hurt, seeing as you have lost your wings.”
        “I have a feeling it won't, seeing as I've no need of 'em.” I pulsed the Jet Pack for emphasis.
        “That still leaves the problem of the amount of energy it will take to travel that distance. I am not sure if I can muster it.”
        I opened up my auto-doc and pulled out one of the many syringes. “Try this. It's epinephrine. I sometimes use it as a combat drug. It makes me forget my limits, so that I can blow past them. I tend to regret it later, when I'm sore but safe. Now, I need to get to Stalliongrad, and I ain't got the time to drive my ass across half a continent. Will you get me there? Please?”
        I looked Luna in the eye. A few seconds ticked by (those precious few seconds). She wavered a little bit, then took the epinephrine in her magic. She injected it into her leg. I immediately saw her eyes dilate, breathing quicken and her ears focused forward. She stood up, “Let us hurry.”
        She closed her eyes, focusing her horn. It glowed a brilliant purple, then it was enveloped in an overglow. I found myself wrapped in a similar aura. and in a flash of purple, the ground went out from under me.
        I looked down. Lots of white. Definitely the North, most likely Stalliongrad. I saw some buildings below. They were distant and remained statuesque. I went spread eagle and tried to guide myself towards the soldier's holdout. I could see a few tracers and some explosions down below. I pulled up my armor's altimeter. It was at 48000 feet.

        24000 feet. I could see the muzzle flashes from below. I also saw the Pelican doing strafing runs. The tracers were flying back and forth like paper airplanes in a classroom full of juvenile delinquents. I aimed for the focal point of the lights.
        12000 feet. I could start to make out the individuals on the ground. The Stalliongrad soldiers wore green, Steel Rangers were gunmetal grey (duh), and Pizza was being a little red menace. Unfortunately, it looked like they were all holed up. The Zebras were all in black.
        8000 feet. I reoriented myself, diverting to the rooftops. There was an enemy sniper team on the building I was headed for. They were still letting loose with hot lead. I figured I should introduce them to cold steel.
        4000 feet. Well within sniper range now, but I'm not that crazy. They don't know I'm coming; best not to tell 'em about it. A Stalliongrad soldier went down. There were only three left, aside from my team.
        200 feet. Right on target. I went ramrod straight, heading feet first into this slice of hell. I activated my Jet Pack and reentry thrusters.
        80 feet. I hit the rooftop hard, leaving a smaller crater. The Zebra snipers didn't notice, seeing as Pizza's rocket detonated just a few feet away from them. They continued firing down at the team and the survivors.
        I drew my combat knife and stalked inch by inch toward the striped bastard.
        I grabbed the sniper's mane and pulled back. Shock went through his eyes, but not before my blade went through his throat. I plunged it hilt-deep, enough to sever the brainstem via the esophagus.
        The spotter turned and kicked me away from his fallen comrade. Shields: 40%. I rolled backwards, using the momentum of the kick to get some distance between us. I had one hand on the ground, both feet there, too. I looked him in the eye. He looked back. I brandished my knife.
        Then he reached for a radio. I activated Mjolnir's ECM jammer, givin' static to the stripe. He tried to key the mic, but quickly found it useless. I launched myself at him like an Olympic runner.
        He rocked back onto his forehooves and bucked my square in the chest, sorta like a kangaroo. Shields: what shields? I was launched backwards a good 8 feet and was lying on my back. I took inventory of my grenades: two M9 HE-DP, two Type-1 Antipersonnel, one Z-040. I looked the Zebra square in the eye one last time.
        “I picked that up from the Chief, you two-toned son of a bitch.” The Pulse Grenade detonated, turning the spotter to ash. I rolled away from the orange ionization field.
        I clambered up to their old hide. They had an excellent sight line on my friends down below. I drew the SRS99-S5 AM rifle. X10 zoom showed me everything I needed to know.
        “This is what I trained for: sniping. Not training rookies, jumping out of good aircraft, nor falling feet first into hell. Sniping: the surgical elimination of undesirables with finesse, skill, stealth, luck, and distance while remaining a pain in their ass, their worst nightmare and a godfinger,” I uttered to myself.
        Zulu infantry advancing on Friendlies. *BOOM* *BOOM* Double Kill! *BOOM* Triple Kill! *BOOM* Overkill! Reload, no more Zulus advancing. Change position.
        I retreated back from the edge and moved further down the building. About halfway back I peeked over the edge. There was another adjacent building about 20 feet below mine, and no good sight lines from my current position. I slung my rifle and got some distance from the edge.
        Next thing I did was sprint headlong at the edge. I jumped over, landing well within the rooftop perimeter even without the use of my Jet Pack. I noticed that there was a small alleyway between the two buildings. Some Zulu Fox were using it as cover. I dropped a frag grenade on top of them.
        I was about to turn around and get back to covering Pizza when I noticed another tall building on the other side of the street. Apparently the Zulu Fox on that rooftop spotted me as well. It looked like they had a jammer with them. I ducked down below the edge of the rooftop as their rounds silently sailed overhead. It seems the Zebras have developed suppressed firearms.
        Priority: jammer. I shouldered my rifle and introduced the Zulu hardware to 14.5 mike-mike Sabot rounds. Hostile fire was being pinged off my armor. It was doing damage comparable to a DMR. *BOOM* *BOOM* *BOOM*
        The jammer exploded. I saw one of the hostiles glance back at it then point for other forces to repair it. I take it Mr. Pointy is the officer here. *BOOM* Was the officer here. I didn't bother with a reload, swapping back to my BR.
        *BAM BAM BAM* *BAM BAM BAM* I laid down some suppressing fire. The BR's 2x scope doesn't help much at these ranges. “Joe to Pizza, you reading me?”
        “Boy am I glad to hear your voice, Joe.”
        “Pizza, what's your status?”
        “Low on ammo, low on men. We're defending this fountain in front of the consulate, it is the last access point to the sewers below, where the civvies have been evacuated. They're to hole up down below while we clear the top. Easier said than done, I guess. The civvies have three days of supplies, but that won't last them long.”
        “Pizza, I'm providing overwatch from the tall building nearest you, but am taking fire from the other tower across the street. Interrogative: do you have any Plan B?”
        “Yes, sir. Do you want me to demo that tower?”
        “Negative, keep it on hand, I'll be down there once the tower gets cleared. Spectacles, you on this channel?”
        “Hell yeah! I love this bird. Can you get me one for Hearth's Warming?”
        “Well, if you like it, can you show those Zebras across the street why it is such a nice ride?”
        “No sweat! Let's see if they like plasma!”
        Note to self: Spectacles is wicked with technology. Best to get him something in the way of Covie weapons later. I saw the Pelican cruise in and switch to hover right in front of the tower. Hot plasma spewed forth from the nose, followed closely by a steel rain of 70 mike-mike. Those Zulu Fox were toast.
        “Good effect on target, moving in on friendly positions. Sit tight, Pizza.” I jumped over the edge, heading towards the fountain in front of the consulate. The team was holed up inside the fountain, the Stalliongrad soldiers seemed to not mind the cold as much.
        The IFF tags revealed Fencing and Pane on the perimeter, with Pizza, Starfire and Lockheart closer towards the middle of the fountain.
        “Pizza, what the hell did you get our asses in now?”
        “Lots of snipers. These Zebras are sneaky fucks. Too bad for them, I've brought a SWAT device with me.”
        “Shoulder Worn Acoustic Targeter?”
        “Eeyup, the locals love it. Too bad my DMR's the only thing that can touch the Zebras at this range.”
        “No need to fear, I am here!”
        “And so am I,” Spectacles added over the radio.
        “Right now, we've got to get out of here. Local forces, stay put. Starfire, Lockheart; you're with Pizza. Fencing, Pane; on me. Pizza, push down the main road, as a diversionary force. I'll push back in order to try and flush out their forces.”
        “Right away, sir.”
        I clambered over the edge of the fountain, following the same path I was on earlier, heading North. Pizza was going South, towards the tower Spectacles had just wrecked. On my left I saw a group of Zulus setting up. *BAM BAM BAM* *BAM BAM BAM* Double Kill! *BAM BAM BAM* Triple Kill! *BAM BAM BAM* Overkill! *BAM BAM BAM* Killtacular! No longer setting up.
        My shields flared; taking fire from behind. I spun around but by the time I had I saw Starfire raining grenades into the enemy position. It looked like that corner shop was having a blowout sale. These flanks were clear, I turned to head East, along some lower buildings. There was a greenhouse on the right for some reason.
        On the left I saw some more Zulu Fox pouring out of a long building. *BAM BAM BAM* *BAM BAM BAM* I gunned down the ones outside it, then stacked up at the entrance. I tossed my last frag grenade into the building, hearing a fair share of screams when I did so.
        I rolled left, entering the structure. The smoke hadn't even settled. *BAM BAM BAM* *BAM BAM BAM* *BAM BAM BAM* *click* Shit. I rolled back, more Zulus returning fire. Reload.
        I was about to roll back in, but I saw Fencing charge headlong into the building. More screams ensued, and then all was quiet. I listened. Nothing. I miss my thestral ears... or do I still have them with due to the bleeding effect? I rolled into the building, rifle level.
        Want to know what's black and white and red all over? A Zebra after going in close against Fencing, or in this case, six Zebras. Fencing was standing atop the crippled and bloodied bodies of a half dozen Zebras. His armor was heavily dented, but damn was that a lot of CQC kills in not a lot of time.
        “That was a lot of Zulus dying at once,” was all he said as he walked past me and out of the building. I followed, eventually leading my team down to what looked like a spa. Some more Zulus were holed up in there. It looked cramped enough.
        I tossed my two Plasma Grenades into the building. BOOM BOOM Killtacular! My motion sensor wasn't detecting anything in there anymore. “Fall back to the fountain, this avenue's clear... for now.”
        We hopped back into the fountain. “Listen up, the East avenue is clear. We'll head down that way and Spectacles will evac us by air.” One of the Stalliongrad soldiers trotted up to me.
        “We will not leave our citizens behind! Go if you will, but I shall remain.”
        “We're not leaving them, they'll be the first out. How many are down there, anyway?”
        “Five hundred.”
        “Oh, man. That'll be twenty trips in the Pelican. Spectacles, how are you holding up?”
        “Not good, I think they found the scissors to my paper. They're just taking pot shots at me when my back is turned.”
        Given the Zulus firepower, that means the Pelican won't last. “Soldier, is there any other way out of the city, preferably one that can handle that kind of traffic.”
        “You said the East is clear? That is in the direction of our metro. We just have to cross that gap.”
        “Pizza, status?”
        “They just keep coming! I'm down to melee combat. There must be a whole regiment to the South!”
        “Starfire, lay down smoke. Pizza, gather up your team and fall back to the fountain. Spectacles, stick with strafe runs, we only have the one Pelican. Soldier, get the civvies to the metro station. We are not leaving them behind!”
        “Yes, sir, tall man, sir. My name is Sergeant Khrushchev in case if you were wondering.” Khrushchev opened up the sewer (boy, did that stink!) and the civvies quickly ran out. He was making it clear they had to make it to the metro.
        “Pane, Fencing, help with the evac. I'll provide covering fire.” I climbed on top of the fountain and lay prone. BR shouldered, I let loose. *BAM BAM BAM* *BAM BAM BAM* *BAM BAM BAM* *BAM BAM BAM* *BAM BAM BAM* I was just firing blindly into the smoke. Just enough to keep the Zulus at bay.
        Pizza, Starfire, and Lockheart were also at the fountain. “Everyone with ammo, lay down suppressing fire. Everyone else, aid in the evac,” I ordered. Spectacles was doing some work behind the smokescreen. An insurmountable roar of firepower rushed forth from our lines to the smoke, halting any attempted advancement by the Zulu Fox.
        Khrushchev ran up to me, “We're all that is left, now we retake this glorious city!”
        “Negative, sergeant. We've lost this fight. We can take it back later, but not with what we have now. We are leaving. Crimson, pack it up! Head to the metro.”
        The three Stalliongrad soldiers were trying to stop me. “We must not leave this land! We will all be a disgrace.”
        “Soldier, listen. I've seen many homes burned to glass, my own included. If everyone stayed and fought, no one would be left to fight the battles that need to be won. Now, are you coming, or should we leave you behind?”
        They all seemed to pause a bit. Finally, without saying a word, they all bowed their heads and followed the rest of the civvies to the metro. I followed behind them, along with the rest of the Crimson Guard.
        We reached the entrance to the metro station when my shields flared again. The Zebras had caught up to us. “Crimson, defend this station! We need to make sure the civvies can get out,” I radioed to the team. I started returning fire, but now the enemy snipers seemed to have gotten their shit together.
        Their fire was focused on me, my shields didn't last long. I felt the rounds tear through the gel layer on my armor. They were taking measured shots, avoiding the plating that was so distinctive of Mjolnir. The rounds slammed into the gel layer, and tore through my own flesh. From experience, I knew these were .308 rounds (don't ask, I’m still pissed at that marine).
        A yellow system warning appeared on my HUD. I ignored it, returning fire on the Zebras. Pizza's shields popped too, and he took cover. I was about to do the same when a lucky round struck my knee. I fell flat on my ass, but never did my aim waver. Starfire ran up and started dragging me deeper into the metro. She put a detonator on my chest before pulling out a bundle of gauze.
        I looked around in the metro, and then I saw the red blinking lights. That's a whole lot of Plan B. My auto-doc pumped some of that good ol' morphine into me, the pain fading away rapidly. Starfire did a decent, yet unextraordinary, job patching my wound. The bleeding would stop soon enough.
        “Everyone, fallback!” I yelled. I grabbed the detonator as I stood up as best I could. Pizza was quick to get to my side and help me down the metro tunnel. I waited until we covered about a hundred feet. “Clear!” KABOOM!!! All hell broke loose, dust completely obscuring our vision. The metro lights went dark. My motion sensor was the only way I knew we weren't being followed. I was getting some blue contacts, but they seemed more like debris than a Spec Ops Sangheili, judging by the movement pattern and the lack of Covenant here.
        The civvies were just a little way ahead. Next stop: end of the line.

        I kept my eyes forward, making sure none of the civvies got hurt by anything. Once the dust settled, I activated VISR. I was rather impressed at how sturdy-looking the subway system was. It looked like even a normal bunker-buster wouldn't crack it. Maybe Rods of the Gods or a Shiva warhead could rend it barren, but nothing conventional. “Khrushchev, these are some rather impressive tunnels you have here, can't say I've ever seen a metro so sturdily built.”
        “Да, it is the pride of Stalliongrad. Our underground systems are built like juggernauts. Almost all of our emergency planning leverages off of them, except for flooding, of course.”
        “Must have been a hell of an engineer who built this.”
        “Actually, Sergei here helped construct it,” Khrushchev pointed a hoof to the other Stalliongrad Soldier to his left. A buck private, but with a mean, 50-grit look on his face. I guess he was all warm and fuzzy on the inside. “He doesn't talk much, unless if you've got some vodka.”
        “Sorry, medical alcohol only, vodka's back at base. High-proof, too... Anyway, Khrushchev, who's the other guy under your command?”
        “Private Vostok, also rather introverted, but you can always find him at karaoke night.”
        “Hmm, back on Miridem I was in a choir. I was stationed there, too. At least until the Covenant glassed it.”
        “'Glassed'?”
        “It's when, via orbital plasma bombardment, a planet is burned until its surface is glass. It also wipes out the atmosphere, making it uninhabitable. Last I checked efforts are being made to get Reach back, but it won't surprise me if it takes a while.”
        Pizza spoke up, “But an effort is being made. We'll have her back before Mdama can say 'what the MAC'.”

        The walk was long, maybe three hours before we found our exit. “This way,” Khrushchev said, motioning towards the doorway. Looked like the end of the line to me. We popped out in the middle of some rocky terrain. Trees dotted the landscape. Just past a few trees I noticed a stone archway on the precipice of a clearing. Looks like we had our LZ.
        “Spectacles, requesting evac at my location.”
        “En route, ETA: pretty damn quick.”
        Pizza set me down against a tree. Things were feeling rather cold, so I had him check my bandages. We waited in the cold. I noticed a few of the civvies shivering. I almost forgot how cold it was, 'Damn quick' is how long I'd give until evac if anyone wanted to get out of here before hypothermia set in.
        “Pizza, do you have any thermal gear?”
        “Negative, why do you ask?”
        “People are gonna start freezing to death soon. Let's see if we can improvise something.” Trees... lots of trees, but no axe. How about explosives? “Starfire, you got any precision explosives?” I saw a few civvies look my way at that remark.
        “Yes, but I'm down to only one charge of Comp C. Will that work?” She handed the explosive to me.
        “Maybe, stand back as I plant this.” I found a nearby tree and planted the mere quarter-pound charge as best I could. It was hardly anything, but it would have to do. “Clear!”
        *KaBOOM* The tree fell down, away from the civvies. Spectacles appeared overhead, guiding the Pelican like an expert. He set her down gently next to the civvies. Pizza stepped forward, “Take them to Canterlot. All aboard! Standing room only,” I yelled to the group.
        The civvies quickly huddled into the Pelican, women and children first. We only got about 8% of the group aboard before Spectacles had a full load. He sealed her up and took to the skies.
        “Crimson, take the branches of that tree and start making a fire. We'll need to warm these civvies up.”
        “Stalliongrad has trained us well for the cold,” Khrushchev said.
        “Nobody's immune to the lethal, sergeant, not even me. Best to start helping”.
        Via a friction bow, we barely got a fire going. Starfire was demolishing the other trees as best she could into burnable lumber. Fencing and Lockheart had ditched their power armor in order to collect some more foliage from the treetops. The ground was lifeless ice and permafrost. Every hour and a half or so Spectacles would come in, taking a few equine popsicles with him. Some of the group started looking a bit blue.
        I reviewed that yellow system alert from earlier, and my blood ran colder than the air around me. Heating System Failure! Shit... No wonder it was getting chilly in here. Apparently one of those Zebra snipers got lucky and hit the AC. I moved a bit closer to the fire.
        Turns out the one thing Pizza and I forgot to pack when we came to this world was thermal blankets. The only arctic equipment we had was my Battle Rifle's camo pattern.

        We were down to the last 100 survivors when we started losing them to the cold. A father who let his family go before him was one of the few to fall. Vostok took the duty of taking their photo IDs for future records. Sergei went through their things for anything that could help anyone else. I made note that he left their coins behind.
        Starfire had run out of explosives. Fencing had frostbite on his wings. Lockheart had already stripped the last tree of any kindling. The fire had already died out, and we couldn't revive it. It was just us and the ice. I wonder how the Zebras are doing in the city?
        The last survivors started huddling together in groups. “Pizza... do you think we could get a little blaze going by burning our remaining gunpowder?”
        “Maybe... best to get a fuel source first.”
        He had a point... high temp, no fuel; no fire. We were out of lumber, and foliage. There was one thing, though... “Sergei, I need you to take the clothes off the dead. Distribute it amongst the survivors. Once that's done, we'll burn the bodies for warmth.” He looked disgusted at my order, matching my own distaste of it. “They'd want us to live, let's not have them die in vain.”

        The next group to depart looked a bit better than the last one, but their faces told a different story. We treated the dead like plague victims; burning them. We were down to roughly sixty or so survivors. We started doing well with the pyrrhic fire roaring. I didn't see much shivering.... only shuddering. At least we didn't make like the Donner Party. Fencing and Lockheart had since gotten back into their power armor; it had better heat retention.
        It would be a while before Spectacles returned. It looked like the city was largely dependent on magic to keep its residents warm through the cold nights. The sun was setting, and I was still surprised the Zebras hadn't found us yet. Something tells me they aren't the types for leaving loose ends. I started patrolling the perimeter, trying to keep my blood flowing.
        Mjolnir's heating system would normally keep its user comfortable at these temperatures. When I get back to base, I'll see if Spectacles can build any upgrades for Mjolnir. In the meantime, I had to keep the cold from killing me. I tried to divert reactor power to the heating, but I was getting magnetic overload warnings.
        “Pizza, I think my environmental controls took a hit in that exchange back at the station. I can't turn the heating on. I've already tried diverting reactor power to it, but I was getting magnetic overload warnings, the same warnings you get when detonating the power supply.”
        “You want to huddle together for warmth, Joe?”
        “Let's just try to hold out until evac. That will be our real victory. Plus, the civvies get priority over us. My armor still has some decent heat retention, but I'm not too sure about their clothes.”
        “Roger that, Joe.”
        “Major Pane, how are you holding up?” I asked.
        “Cold, miserable, and in need of alcoholic intake. In other words: practically normal.”
        “We'll get that remedied when we get back to Canterlot. First round's on me. Know any good bars?”
        “The Artifact Club is a good place for good drinks, but it has raves nightly. The Old Chalice Theater has fancy drinks, and you get a show too (given you aren't too rowdy). Finally, the Hourglass Spa has the worst drinks in town, but you'll love every moment you spend there.”
        “So, there's always a catch?”
        “Eeyup.”
        “How about I piece together a War Cocktail for you back at HQ?”
        “War Cocktail? Sounds like my kind of drink.”
        “An ODST named Tarkov told me the recipe back when I was in the 105th.”
        Khrushchev, cold as he was, seemed to hear the name, “Tarkov? Sounds local. Can you introduce me to him?”
        “I don't know what happened to him; Voi was the last time I saw him. Hell of fight, if I memory serves.”
        “Most likely, Stalliongrad tends to bring out the inner badass in someone.”
        “He was Hungarian.”

        When Spectacles returned, we only had enough room for all but a half dozen. I volunteered to stay behind, as did Pane, Starfire, Sergei, Pizza, and Vostok. We waved goodbye to Lockheart and Fencing, the more injured of us (the cold was bitter and unforgiving, but Mjolnir was more so). They were the coldest of us all.
        “...And then there were six,” I muttered.
        “Two privates, a corporal, an ensign, and a major, all lead by the LT. Disparity, much?” Pizza pointed out.
        We all chuckled at that. But we would need more than cheer to stave off the cold. It was still -50o Celsius. This was unfrigginbelievable. I was starting to shiver under my armor. Being born on Harvest wasn't helping; it was always hot there. Better take my mind off the cold. “So, Pane, what made you enlist?”
        “The law.”
        “Well, that's an odd thing to sign up for. Might I ask why?”
        “Got into a bar fight with some colt. Turned out to be a general. Just to fuck with him, I enlisted the next day in a different branch. I was then under military jurisdiction, though the fight was under civilian jurisdiction. Never made it to court. And for the record, I never told you this.”
        “So how did you become an officer?”
        “Wanted to twist the knife. I'm hoping to outrank that general some day. Maybe even lead a joint op with him under me. I would love to see the look on his face when I say 'remember me?' to him.”
        “Are you sure he'll remember you, after all these years?”
        “Yeah, I banged his daughter. That's why he tracked me to the bar.”
        “No wonder he started the fight.”
        “Actually, I did.”
        “So you mean to tell me you fucked his daughter, then whooped his ass the next day?”
        “Same day, actually. A little 'morning delight' followed by happy hour.”
        “Mad props to you, Major. Any soldier with balls like yours almost makes me feel bad for the enemy.”
        “So... I told you mine, care to share yours?”
        “Yeah... Mine can be summed up with one word: revenge. It goes back to when I was five years old. I was just walking through the wheat fields like I do any day, just trying to pass the time. Next thing I know, there are explosions everywhere and eight-foot-two alien monsters running around. My parents packed me and my brother in the car and gunned it all the way to the spaceport. When we got there, some Colonial Militiamen were waving us aboard the space elevator. My parents stayed behind, to let us go first. That was the last I ever saw of them.
        “Fast forward a dozen years and I'm sitting pretty on Miridem. My brother had already went to Reach to enter some marathon and pursue his running career. When my birthday came around, I enlisted that same day. Since then, I was a Marine. Just in time, too. Six years later the Covenant found Miridem. I fought hard for every inch of dirt, but ultimately lost. They pushed us off world and if it wasn't for a group of ODSTs, including Tarkov, we wouldn't have made it out alive. That was also where I met Pizza.
        “Pizza recommended I join the 105th, so I did, as soon as my tour of duty was up. I was in the finest outfit the UNSC had, or at least what I thought was the finest. The training was harsh but I eventually got my jump wings. Five years of hellish combat later, I got furlough and went to Arcadia. I heard that there was a farming community there, and I was feeling all nostalgic. Bad move.
        “The Covenant came back to Arcadia while I was there. The region was mostly lawless, but it still supported the UNSC. It looked like I was the only military man on the entire planet. Tough break. I organized a small resistance force as best I could. Those sons-of-bitches fought harder than I've ever seen a Marine fight. We only got one evac transport off-world successfully; the Covenant shot down the rest. I'll give you one guess who was flying that one.
        “After Arcadia, I went back to Earth, and went through OCS at Luna, using my defense and evacuation of Arcadia as a credential to get into that prestigious school. I came out as Ensign Joe of the 105th ODST. I was placed at Cairo Station, an orbital MAC platform over Earth. Not exactly a job an ODST prefers, but it was nice to that hear my brother was at Mars for more running along the highways. A couple years later and Reach got hit. The forces at Earth were told to hold their positions. Pizza was at Reach for the apex of that brawl, but I was pushing papers and running supply crates 150 kilometers from the ground.
        “Then... they found Earth. I went dirtside and linked up with Tarkov's squad, Pizza included. Luckily, some Covie rebels joined our cause and we actually won that fight, and with it, the war. The fight took us clear out of the galaxy and for the first time, I got to fight beside the Master Chief, not once, but three times. We even fought something... too terrible to describe... Anyways, without the Master Chief, our whole species would be extinct. After all of that, I ran into Jun, a Spartan-III who served at Reach. He recommended the Spartan-IV Program to me, so I signed up.
        “I was placed on the Infinity, but only set foot aboard after my training was complete. Then I found myself at the Second Battle of Requiem. Miraculously, Pizza had also signed up for the Spartan Program at the same time. We were placed in the same fireteam, and I found my way up to Lieutenant. I wasn't leading the team until later into the battle, when Mormon went down. At the end of all that, we saved the ship after losing Richard to a sniper.
        “Palmer then sent us on this mission here, to keep an eye out for Jul Mdama, the bastard responsible for the Second Battle. In the mean time, I'm fighting this war with you.”
        Well, shit, there's my entire résumé.
        Starfire spoke up, after a long pause, “So basically, you're gullible to recruiters?”
        “Heh, yeah, you could say that. But my agendas were already figured. I guess it's good to be hunting Jul Mdama. I basically made it my life goal to do everything I could to wipe out the Covenant. Now they're just remnants. I feel like I've accomplished something.”
        “Well, you should, you've been serving longer than I've been alive.”
        “Have I? Let's see. Born 2520, enlisted 2538 at 18, now its 2558. That makes it to twenty years of service. You are a corporal, so I'm guessing you were a recent recruit.”
        “Yeah. Geez, you're almost forty! But your calendar seems a bit off.”
        “How so?”
        “Well, I'm pretty sure it's just because of us being from two separate worlds, but your dates have about five hundred years on ours. Our calendars say it's August 29th of 2058.”
        “Regardless, I'm still kickin' ass this far into my life, so I have to be doing something right.”
        The soft roar of the Pelican's engines warmed all of our hearts. Our ride was here. We all clambered aboard. A quick headcount: Sergei, Vostok, Pizza, Starfire, myself, and Major Pane.
        “All aboard, take us home!”
        I think we all appreciated the heating of the Pelican's troop bay.
        “Lieutenant, if you don't mind me asking, who made your armor? It's a lot fancier than the fatigues we were issued,” Khrushchev asked.
        “It was made by three separate corporations, actually. My helmet and breastplate were made by Naphtali Contractor Corporation, a company focused on airborne armors. My visor and pauldrons were built by the Materials Group, the original Mjolnir manufacturers. My leggings and vambraces were built by Lethbridge Industrial, a group specializing in foreign and exotic designs. Surprisingly, Lethbridge makes the Thruster Pack and Jet Packs Spartans use nowadays, yet the armor most airborne units use is either built by NCC or Cascade Stronghold.”
        “So I don't have to go to just one company to get some kick-ass armor?”
        “Nope. There are about a dozen different Mjolnir manufacturers today. The Materials Group is the most reputable, and they like to focus on the experimental technologies. They started Mjolnir that way. All manufacturers are just a bit out of reach for anyone here, though.”
        “Damn...”

        Spectacles piloted the Pelican over to the Shipping District with ease. He set her down like a pro, too. Still no TJ Murphy. The back hatch opened up, and we all stood to leave. It was far into the night. I could see Epsilon Eridani, just a little off from Orion's Belt. We had fought hard for her.
        Pizza was doing the same. The hour had just rolled past 12. I checked my calendar. Aug 30 2558. “Today's the day, Pizza. Reach fell six years ago.”
        “Hell of a fight...”
        “We're still breathing, though. We've got plenty of asses to kick in the future. Though now they're more striped than purple.”
        “You got that right. Let's RTB. I could use a War Cocktail or two.”
        We all walked casually to our HQ, having waved goodbye to the Stalliongrad Survivors. They were going to report to the princesses in the morning, as were we. A refugee camp was set up in the city, and a few stuck-ups seemed to be bothered by it. Guess they don't know what its like to lose your home.
        We were at the entrance to the HQ when I noticed something... On my motion sensor, there were seven contacts. Pizza, myself, Starfire, Spectacles, and Pane were accounted for. The others? What were they...
        “Halt,” I ordered, holding up a fist, “Pizza, check your motion sensor.” I activated VISR as I drew my BR. Damn... no ammo. Forgot we burned that stuff for heat. Best to intimidate, then.
        I quickly saw two outlines of two ponies. Ponies that weren't there. “Pizza, you good on right?” I asked.
        “Yes, sir. On your count.” The others started looking a bit nervous. The two invisible targets looked like they were getting ready to pounce.
        “Пять... Четыре... Три... Два... Один... Нулю!” On zero we both pounced, jumping right over the rest of the squad. I tried kicking one of the suspects with my right boot. He ducked, and pulled me to the ground. I lit up my Jet Pack, going airborne. Good thing I stocked up the auto-doc before going to Stalliongrad.
        He dropped down and shifted priority to Pizza, who was trading blows with the other suspect. I drew my knife and threw it at the outline in VISR. Solid impact, center mass. The hostile didn't stop, but was slowed. I dropped down behind him, the auto-doc's morphine dulling the pain my knee was plaguing me with.
        He turned around and tried to punch me in the face, but I dodge it like Neo. Then he tried to sweep my legs. This time, the Zebra was much faster than the Captain on the Caesar. I hit the ground hard. He straddled me and tried to pound my face in. I brought up my arms to block.
        I counted out four hits before there was a brief pause in his strikes. I used that as an opportunity to roll onto my front. He let me roll, trying to pull the knife out of his side. I bucked him like that Zebra Captain did a while back on the Caesar. That put some distance between us.
        I only managed to get into a sitting position before he pounced me again. I got onto my back and the mother of all kicking battles ensued. I kicked right, he ducked left. He swings right, I dodge left. Eventually I just decided to use my Jet Pack, getting free from that stalemate, and onto my feet.
        He stayed back, wanting me to strike first. “Caesar is a cur, sending those who can't be seen to do his dirty work for him,” I said, trying to get him to rush. I was focused on my knife in his side.
        That did it, apparently. His Active Camouflage faltered and died out when he dropped the hood on the robe he was wearing. “You do not know of who you speak.” That is on confirmed Zebra infiltrator.
        “I know that I am better than him, doing my work personally. I get to see my enemy in the eye that way.”
        “Yet you cower behind a mask, like some wild cat avoiding the true light.”
        I depolarized my visor. “Those who hide in darkness see a different kind of light. I've seen so much worse than anything you could possibly inflict unto me. You can see it in my eyes. Now make peace with your gods, you will not have another opportunity in this lifetime.”
        He seemed to stagger back a little bit. “Starspawn...” he muttered. I wouldn't have a better chance to strike. I charged. He jumped left, trying to dodge. I reached out and drew my knife from his hide, leave a nasty gash behind. I stood tall and walked slowly towards the bleeding Zebra. He was trying to crawl away.
        “Joe, backup!” I looked behind me and saw that Pizza was losing his fight. The cloaked SOB had him on the ground, pounding his Hardlight Shield. I threw my knife as hard as I could, narrowly missing. Pizza's shield was already red, it wouldn't last much longer. I started to run toward him.
        Something caught my foot, and I landed face-first in the hard soil. I looked back, and the Zebra I was battling was holding onto my boot. Not knowing anything better to do, I overloaded my shields, sending a powerful shock through the Zebra. My shields were gone, but the Zebra, zapped as he was, still would not let go. I tried kicking him loose, to no avail.
        I looked back up at Pizza. His Hardlight Shield had run out of juice, just like his standard shields. I could see the tell-tale golden crackle across his armor. The cloaked figure that had him was about to deliver a heavy hit. “Pizza!” I yelled, reaching out to him.
        *Ratatatatat!*
        *Ratatatatat!*
        *Ratatatatat!*
        *Ratatatatat!*
        The Rookies! They burst out of the doorway, lead by Lockheart and Fencing. The lot of them shredded the bastard that was trying to finish off Pizza. “Joe!” I heard Daze yell out. I looked his way and saw the Mighty Magnum soaring through the toward me. I grabbed it, flipped the safety off, and introduced the Zebra fuck at my ankles to 12.7 mike-mike explosive rounds. *BAM* *BAM* *BAM* *BAM* *BAM*
        He went down, missing half his face. I was finally free of his death-grip. I looked over to Pizza. The Zebra that was attacking him wouldn't be getting up anytime soon, but Pizza was on the ground too. I sprinted to his side, sliding the last meter on my knees.
        He was still breathing, but he took a pounding. He'll need time to recover, and we'll need to stabilize him. I used a cable to link our armors. Diagnostics confirmed his auto-doc was inoperable. I opened up mine and grabbed some biofoam to inject into his armor. “Heartstrings, get a medkit!”
        “Haven't felt that in a while,” Pizza muttered. I take it he meant the cool feel of the biofoam.
        “Take it easy Pizza, you look like you've been smashed by a Gravity Hammer.” Internal bleeding popped up via the link.
        “Feel like it, too.” He took off his helmet. I could see blood streaming from his mouth.
        “Shit, Pizza. We've got to get you to a hospital.” No broken bones, the link said. How?!
        “Equines, remember? Better make it a vet.”
        “Yeah, I'll be sure to. Just stay with us, Pizza.” Heartstrings was back, Unit Three satchel in tow.
        She started practicing medicine on the crippled Spartan, administering a purple potion. The link said he was improving, but his heart was slowing a bit much. I reached for a needle of epinephrine. No dice, Luna used my last one.
        Did everything have to go wrong, now of all times? Apparently so. I gave Pizza a morphine syrette, to dull the pain a bit more, but only half to keep his heart beating. “Who's ever fastest, go contact a hospital; we need doctors and medical equipment in here yesterday,” I ordered to Crimson. Starfire took off her armor and took to the skies.
        The rest of Crimson kept on grabbing whatever Lyra requested. “We need a sterile place to move him, preferably with medical facilities,” she said, her horn lit up. The boys brought back the judge's table from the shooting range. We moved Pizza onto it, using it as a stretcher.
        “I'll need a scalpel, I'm still detecting bullets in him.” I dipped my knife in the medicinal alcohol my auto-doc had. I burned it off using the lighter in the medkit and handed it to her. I helped disengage Pizza's Mjolnir armor and it's gel layer. He was in his skivvies.
        Lyra precisely cut him open near his various gunshot wounds from the metro station... or would he have gotten them earlier in the battle? The biofoam would seal up the internal bleeding for us. “I'll need something to stop this bleeding.” She was starting to falter a bit in her speech. Her magic stayed steady, though, as she dug out the what few bullets got through Mjolnir. Rivulets of blood ran down the fallen Spartan's body as Lyra did her best to extract the bullets and prevent infection.
        I pulled out a small tube of biofoam. The smaller tubes are used for direct application, whereas the grenade-like cylinders are used of injection. Most of the stuff I injected earlier seems to have already hardened. “Apply this directly to the injuries,” I told Lyra. She was probing around in a wound, looking for a bullet. She generously applied the biofoam to all other locations that were bleeding.
        Pizza let out a moan of pain. Lyra pulled her head back, seeming to be confused. “There isn't a bullet...”
        “What?” I asked.
        “The bullet... it didn't go through, but it isn't anywhere inside the wound.”
        “Let me take a look,” I peeked into the wound on Pizza's right side, seeing nothing but blackened powder all throughout the wound. “Dammit, the Zebras hit him with a frangible round, that powder is the bullet, Lyra, and its mostly copper too.”
        “That can't be good, but I can't think of a way aside amputation that would remove the copper.”
        “There isn't. We'll have to seal up the wound and get some toxicologists to keep a watchful eye on him. They should be able to handle copper poisoning. This right here is against the laws of war: ammunition capable of causing excessive damage to an enemy combatant.”
        “You gonna let me rest now, Joe? I'm sorta laying down on the job again, huh?” Pizza mumbled.
        “Take it easy, Pizza. You'll be fine.”
        “Hardly. I thought frangible ammo was reserved for cops?”
        A thought flashed through my mind about the CPD. Lyra spoke up, “Joe, we can stave off infection and accelerate the healing process by applying honey to these wounds. Do you think Crimson could grab me some?”
        “You heard the lady, Crimson. Someone, get us a shitload of honey. I won't bother asking where it came from.”
        Lockheart, Fencing, and Footfall saluted and ran off to the exit.
        “While they're away, let's get Pizza inside.”
        “Agreed.”
        Everyone that was left helped move Pizza indoors. We placed him and the table he was on in the back storage room, just behind the mess hall. I moved his armor to the workshop. I'd need to repair the auto-doc... and my heater.
        Lockheart and his team came back with a crate full of jars of honey in five minutes. I moved it into the storage room, where Lyra promptly massaged it into the various gunshot wounds covering Pizza. It took thirty more minutes for the doctors to arrive. We had them look Pizza over. All they did was nod and tell us to keep up the good work and administer penicillamine if a copper ring develops around the iris. We then cussed them out for taking so long, and sent them packing. Pizza was okay for now. Lyra wouldn't leave his side, but I had a team to lead.
        I accessed the UNSC personnel logs, and changed Pizza's status from “Active” to “WIA”. It could never be a cakewalk, now could it? I would have Lyra glance over my wounds soon. I swung by the supply room and grabbed the Auto-Turret we had there from the Whitetail LZ.
        I placed it out front, setting it to “kill all”. Under the exceptions list I placed the VISR data for the princesses, the Royal and Lunar Guards, and Crimson. The turret was searching left and right. It was fully operational. I dragged the two Zebras back inside with me.
        As I was dragging them, I noticed that one was still breathing, though faintly. “Lyra, we've got a breather!” She came galloping up to me, then noticed the Zebras. She seemed to pause a little. “I need you to take the bastard that pummeled Pizza to the local hospital. Take Daze and Fencing with you, in case if he has a few punches left in him.”
        “Yes, sir,” she said, heading back to fetch Fencing and Daze.
        I continued to drag the dead Zebra into the workshop. Only half his head survived the Magnum's pounding, his brain not included. I would've liked to cross-analyze a Zebra brain with my own and a pony's to see any unique qualities about it, but I guess you can't win 'em all. I laid the Zebra corpse out on a worktable and pulled out my knife. I needed to figure out why these Zebras can parallel a Spartan in combat.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

        “Lieutenant, you had sustained casualties and yet you still didn’t call for the Infinity to evac you?”
        “Sir, if you saw what happened to Harvest, Miridem, or even Arcadia you would never pull out and give the enemy an edge. Miller put it quite nicely: ‘Spartans don’t leave things have finished’. I wasn’t going to leave Equestria a safe haven for Mdama.”
        “So you sought medical treatment for yourself later, Lieutenant?”
        “That is correct, sir.”
        “Lieutenant, earlier you mentioned something ‘too terrible to describe’, would you mind telling me what it is?”
        “Admiral, I’d rather not say. It still strikes me with fear just by imagining what it does to a person.”
        “But does it have a name, Lieutenant?”
        “Sir, please don’t make me say it… they followed me, I swear it. They won’t leave me alone.”
        “Admiral, I believe he is talking about the Flood.”
        “Doctor?”

> Ch 10 Prep Work and Promises Made
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


        Through the dissection I found that Zebras had well-toned muscle, possibly from years of strenuous exercise. This quality I've seen paralleled in Elites. There wasn't much of it, but the muscle tissue seemed to react mostly in sync, leading to increased strength. I further examined the body's guts.
        The stomach revealed some basic meats and other sources of protein as well as something like hardtack. There wasn't much in it, indicating he probably ate before his op went live. I wasn't finding anything anomalous in the guts, so I examined the chest cavity.
        The lungs proved to be capable of extreme oxygen intake. Possibly an effect of adrenaline. The heart was exceptionally healthy, almost a prime example of an Olympian's heart. Better oxygen intake... better blood flow... more responsive muscles... this guy was an athlete by any definition. His lean build suggested he was a runner. I examined the vocal folds next.
        They didn't seem to have been through much use. He was clearly of the strong silent type. To bad it didn't pay off for him. I noticed he still had one eye left, so I examined that too.
        The eye appeared to have great light reception, but without a brain to examine I wasn't going to be able to tell how well he could interpret what he saw. All I know is he could see very well. He was a prime example of a soldier. From what I've studied of Sangheili culture, it seemed that Caesar's regimes were very similar to an Elite's training. This was not good news for Equestria.
        Quiet, strong, perceptive, and enduring. All traits that I've used to describe my ideal soldier. The mind was all that I was interested in now. I made note in my science logs of this autopsy. I would compare it to any medical records Equestria had to see how it would compare. I doubted Equestria, with a thousand years of peace, would have very good fighters.
        Another thing caught my eye; the robe he had with him. The other one decloaked when he dropped the hood. I pulled up the garb, inspecting it. It looked just like any old robe to me, but the gem in its center was what caught my eye. An Active Camouflage talisman? I'd need Spectacles to examine it. It's more of his field than mine.
        *BAP* *BAP* *BAP* *BAP*
        The turret outside was engaging something. I grabbed my (now fully loaded) BR and ran outside. I saw Aegis flying like a bat out of hell, trying his best to dodge the auto-turret's fire. I quickly shut off the turret.
        “Are you TRYING to kill me?!” He yelled at me.
        “Sorry, Aegis. We just had some uninvited guests give us a run for our money. What brings you here, anyway?” It didn't look like he was hurt, just a little winded.
        “I came here to tell you that the chemical analysis of that cup of coffee you got me said it had trace amounts of cocaine in it. That didn't happen to come from Donut Joe's, did it? Half the science team goes there.”
        “Negative, it came from Starbucked.”
        “Well, darn, the other half goes there. We were in a bit of a stalemate over which coffee shop was better. Donut Joe's always had an edge, though, always selling donuts... Well, do what you may with this intel, I've got to break the news to the science team. Hopefully I can collect on the betting pool we've had.”
        “You do that. I'll go see what I can do about this.” He flew off, in all his griffon-ness.
        Looks like Starfire and I have another op to wrap up. I activated the turret again, this time adding the science guys from the Nerve Center to its IFF. I also had Al Capony on my to-do list, and not much patience for him. I walked back to the barracks, pulling open Footfall's report of his compound.
        It said he had two armed guards out front, but apparently many more inside. Four more had joined those two when Footfall was found panicking at their doorstep. They mentioned that Al Capony was at the top, specifically: “-the boss up top.” The guards were armed with 9mm pistols, but a few inside had rifles. The rifles I was concerned about, the pistols not so much. The guards I'd estimate to number in the fifties, given this being preliminary recon of only the front door security detail. Given the ratio of 9mm to rifles, I expected the guards to get gradually more well armed as things progressed inwards. If I wanted to get to Capony, I'd half to either be extremely sneaky, or really fast.
        Luckily, I was more suited than most for that, but Pizza was only suited for running. I would like another Spartan with me in there, so I'd best wait on making my play. Give Pizza time to recover. In the mean time, there was Starbucked to worry about.
        “Starfire, rendezvous in the mess hall in five mikes,” I yelled through the HQ.
        “Yes, sir,” came her response, echoing from the range.

        “So you want me to provide a diversion out front, so we can both slip in through the back?”
        “Exactly. I've contacted the Lunar Guard about this, and they'll help out. They've requisitioned a carriage for us. It'll be right in front of the café. I want you to place a remote explosive under it. We'll stack up at the back door, planting a breaching charge synced to the same detonator as the carriage bomb. The breaching charge is a lot quieter, so it'll go unnoticed. Additionally, Celestia has requested that we don't kill anyone this time, so we'll be stuck with TTR and tasers. Bureaucratic bullshit if you ask me, so I'd pack some more lethal alternatives if I were you.”
        “So what should I bring?”
        “One ANFO bomb, maybe 15 pounds. I want a big boom. Five shaped plastiqué charges, they don't need to be that big. One rifle with TTR rounds. One 500,000 volt taser. A combat knife. And finally a sidearm with some teeth: a .45 or greater, if we have to go lethal, I don't want to leave behind wounded. You got that?”
        “15 lbs of ANFO, five shaped charges of C-4, a rifle loaded with TTR, a taser, a knife, and a pistol. Anything else?”
        “Don't forget to include two remote detonators linked to the same remote. We're going to have to be fast about this. I wouldn't include anything else except for your armor. We need to be light about this in order to be fast, but I don't want any casualties.”
        “Two detonators and one remote, plus armor. Got it. When should we strike?”
        “Dawn. Just when the sun is visible over the horizon. Also, I'm not to keen on how Spectacles may react to us raiding his favorite coffee shop. I'd keep him out of the loop until it's all said and done.”
        “Solid copy, sir. I'll go get ready.”
        Starfire trotted off toward the arms lockers next to the HMG at the shooting range. I saw Spectacles walk up to me.
        “This might seem like an odd thing to ask, but do you know who left a dissected Zebra in my workshop?”

        The light levels were picking up. The moon was beginning to set (which apparently in Equestria means the night is almost over). Starfire had placed the charges. I had the detonator in hand. My eyes were glued to the motion sensor. I didn't want to frag any passing civilians. The contacts moved farther inside the structure. All clear.
        The first rays of sunshine lanced down through the partly cloudy skies. “Clear,” I muttered.
        *KaBOOM* The charges went off in tandem; I heard only one explosion. We rushed into the coffee shop without making a sound, aside from the clattering of the Steel Ranger armor. The inside was almost too strong for me to handle, but I managed to keep it together. My BR was loaded with TTR, but it would still hurt like hell up close. I swept left to right.
        Workers, three in total, were in this room. “Crimson Guard, get down on the ground!” I yelled at them. One followed suit, the other two hesitated. I kicked one in the gut (gently!) and he doubled over. I followed up with a buttstroke to the back of the head, knocking him flat on the ground and unconscious. Starfire had tased the other down and had cuffed him.
        “Room secure,” she said.
        “Clear the front, I'll search this area,” I said as I cuffed the one who followed my instructions, then the other one who hadn't. I opened several overhead cabinets, not finding anything particularly incriminating. I checked the freezer. Nothing. Thinking about how hard I hit Mr. Sleepy, I figured I should give him a hand.
        I grabbed a bag of peas before shutting the freezer and placed them on the back of his head. “What are you doing?” asked the one who listened.
        “Conducting an investigation,” I deadpanned.
        “Clear, but some civvies are looking into the explosion,” Starfire shouted from the front room.
        “Under whose authority?” he asked.
        “I don't have time to talk about it,” I said, still searching the room.
        “Can I see your warrant? You can't search this place without a warrant. Anything you find will be inadmissible in a-”
        “Here's my warrant,” I kicked his face, having him make like Mr. Sleepy, though with a broken nose.
        “Sir, I'm not finding anything up front, how about you?” Starfire asked, joining me in the back.
        “Nothing, just a headache of legal jargon and a few bags of peas,” then it hit me. “Wait...what are peas doing in a coffee shop?” I looked over at Mr. Sleepy.
        Starfire and I both glanced at one another, then we started stalking towards the bag of peas that shouldn't be. I grabbed the bag off of Mr. Sleepy's head. I drew my combat knife from its hidden vambrace compartment. I put the knife up to the bag, and cut it open. I peeled open the bag to see what was inside. White powder.
        “Bingo,” I said.
        “I don't think that's caffeine, sir.”
        “Looks like we've found out the secret ingredient that makes Starbucked so irresistible. Come on, let's shut this place down, maybe Spectacles can get some much-needed sleep.”
        We found some duct tape in a supply closet and placed large Xs on the windows and doors. I added a makeshift sign that said: “Closed due to drug trafficking, please try Donut Joe's”. That'll give the eggheads a laugh. I fetched the rest of the bags of peas, checking each one for cocaine. All of them, except one, had the drug in it. Most likely the decoy bag for whenever an investigator came by.
        We contacted the local police and told them what happened, and presented the evidence for the case. We also handed over the workers we detained on-site. Looks like the police we're having their job done for them. Charges were quickly being filed. Now we just had to deal with Al Capony.

        But it couldn't be so cut-and-dry, now could it?
        “Joe,” Celestia began, “the charges against the Starbucked franchise are being dropped, seeing as the evidence against them was illegally obtained without a warrant. What can you say for yourself?”
        “Charge 'em with treason, instead. Either one or the other would do.” Did I mention I hate court, especially case-building?
        “What? Joe, we need two witness testimonies or a confession in order to charge them with treason. And they needed to act in aid of an enemy of Equestria, not your UNSC.”
        “Then I have Spectacles and Starfire under my command as witnesses. They were both sold cocaine-tainted coffee from the Starbucked franchise. Cocaine has adverse side-effects that could make an otherwise ideal soldier perform sub-par. It can also cause sudden cardiac arrest, too. This could be viewed as an indirect attempt to assassinate various military or other high-ranking officials, due to the locale being in Canterlot, the nerve center of Equestria, both politically and militarily. With the land in a state of war with the Zebras, they would be aiding the Striped Menace.
        “Additionally, do to the hindrances their tainted coffee instills, I now view their whole franchise as an enemy of the UNSC, with them having hindered or attempted to hinder assets critical to a UNSC Spartan deployment. As a soldier of the UNSC, it is now my duty to neutralize Starbucked-brand coffee for the war effort against Jul Mdama, due to it posing a potential risk to vital personnel and assets. If you wish to protect them, I will contact the UNSC Infinity and inform them of the situation.”
        “Are you threatening me?”
        “I'm just informing you of what protocol will have me do, based upon your choice of action. Be it of note, if you abide by your law and press treason charges against Starbucked, then I will make note of it in my debrief onboard the Infinity, informing them of the helpfulness of the government of Equestria.”
        “That sounds a bit less of a threat.”
        “War is not something I wish to start. As a soldier, that ain't my job. Fighting it is.”
        “So... are you sure about these charges and your witness' testimonies?”
        “Affirmative, milady.”
        “Then I'll go and inform the courts about these proceedings. Treason is not a common crime in Equestria.”
        “That's because it takes some serious balls to commit it... or a big enough incentive.”
        “What are you hinting at?”
        “I think a full investigation should occur at all Starbucked locations, see if there's any link to bribery, espionage, blackmail, or kidnapping (in an attempt to leverage support). This should be done separately from this case, to make the charges clean-cut. Those who had family on the line could be exonerated afterwards.”
        “Sounds like a plan, but I don't think we have the horsepower to accomplish such a large scale investigation.”
        “Then just shut down all the cafés. Make an example of them, for being traitors.”
        “'Traitor' is not a word commonly used in Equestria.”
        “Well, it is the legal term for someone who commits treason.”
        “Very well, but the manager of the franchise you raided is trying to press assault charges against you.”
        “Ha,” I laughed, “Is he really? Last I checked, you can't charge a soldier for attacking the enemy. Go forth with the assault charges, but not until after the treason case.”
        “Are you sure?”
        “Hell yeah, ma'am. Imagine the headlines: 'Treasonous Franchise Charges Special Forces Investigator with Assault Charges'. The charges would never stick. Even if I plead guilty, I'd be jury-nullified.”
        “Sounds like you know quite a bit about our legal system.”
        “It's just like the UNSC's, with only a few less caveats. I also watched a few court cases in my free time. Helped keep me out of jury duty. Knowing about jury nullification can do that to a person.”
        “I see, but for the sake of the matter, will you appear in court?”
        “Only if I'm needed, and if it won't interfere with my deployment. Spectacles and Starfire will be presenting their testimony. Starfire was with me in the collection of the evidence. She actually did more work than me. I don't see why my being there would make any difference. If my schedule is clear, I'll see if I can swing by.”
        “Excellent. Now, I'm going to have to talk to some legal teams about these charges, you should see Luna. She said something about a debrief?”
        “Right away, ma'am.” I saluted, then left the main hall and found my way to the observatory.

        Luna was waiting for me there, along with the Stalliongrad Survivors. “You wanted to see me, ma'am?” I asked.
        “Yes, I just needed your account of what happened in Stalliongrad.”
        “I'll start from when you teleported me. I found myself at 48000 feet, so I dove into the fray that was going on down below. I guided myself onto a tower, eliminated the sniper team there, then engaged other Zebra targets. Once I emptied a magazine, I went on to another hide, not wanting to be detected. I found an enemy jammer which was preventing me from communicating with the ground forces, so I destroyed that, which seemed to catch the attention of the jammer's operators.
        “I then went groundside and linked up with friendly forces. From there I organized a push out of the city center, first clearing a path, making a diversion, then making a smokescreen to evacuate the civilians under. We got out with no civilian casualties, though only the three soldiers with us now were left of the original forces defending the city.
        “We evaced via the metro system of Stalliongrad, which found us in the middle of a forest in extreme cold. Spectacles flew evac for the civilians out of the forest and to Canterlot, but he could only carry so many at a time. Canterlot was very far away, so we were left without evac for lengthy periods of time. No operational thermal equipment made it harder to survive.
        “My team tried our hardest to make the environment a little more hospitable, burning the local foliage and even using our ammo to start fires. The cold however, was quick to snuff those flames. When the civilians started succumbing to the cold, we would strip them of their cold-weather gear and provide it to those who could make use of it. Aside from that, we did not loot the dead.
        “By the time we had evaced most of them, the cold was unendurable, even for a Spartan. We had to use what little ammo we had left to burn the dead for heat. From then on, we didn't see very many more fall to the cold. We didn't have a single round left by the time the last bird arrived.
        “But there wasn't enough room for everyone. I volunteered to stay behind alongside a few others. I started up a conversation to keep our minds off of the cold. It seemed to work fine, but I found out that we had made a poor decision upon returning to Crimson HQ.
        “Two Zebra agents ambushed us, and right now one of our operatives is in critical condition, but we managed to defeat them. One Zebra was killed, another critically wounded. I had him sent to the local hospital under heavy guard. When he comes to, I'd like to interrogate him further. I dissected the Zebra that I killed, trying to see what made him so much more effective than a pony in CQB. That pretty much brings us up to now.”
        “You did what to a fallen enemy?”
        “I dissected him. I thought I made that clear.”
        “Joe, that can be viewed as a war crime!”
        “Good thing the UNSC hasn't declared war against the Zebras, then.”
        “This isn't about the UNSC, it's about Equestria. What will the public think if they hear about this?”
        “What makes you think they'll hear about it? We are the one force covered in the most black ink. If anything pops up, I'm sure the MoI could pass it off as a rumor. If not, I could just fudge a few facts about it, then publish the deceptive report.”
        “Joe, it is unwise to keep the public out of the know. The more they know about the war, the easier it will be to fight it and gain public support.”
        “Bottom line: they were spies. I found them and fought them. We can't let them go or else they'll report their findings to Caesar. I'll need to make sure about how much they know, then I'll see what I can do. Do we have any POW camps in the area?”
        “Yes, just across the bridge, outside the city, but I can't have you going too far with this war. We need to prove ourselves better than the enemy, not more monstrous. Do you understand?”
        “Yes, ma'am, but I am a soldier. Not only that, I've seen what it's like to lose everything. I am not going to let that happen to Equestria. I've lost so many battles, so many lives... I just want to be able to say 'We won' one more time, and have it be true. The Human-Covenant war wasn't much of a victory, but we survived. Now I have to keep a lookout for Jul Mdama because he thinks we haven't won just yet. I don't want the same to happen here, nor anywhere. Maybe if you could understand my pain, you would understand why I fight...”
        “Your pain is solely your own, Spartan, but I do feel for you. I could not even imagine the kind of travail you have endured.”
        “I can only fight for what I believe in. And I believe in a lot of things.”

        The hospital was rather clean, but a little too cramped for my liking. I found Daze and Fencing in a room next to the stabilized Zebra infiltrator. “Boys, why don't you step outside for a bit?”
        “Right away, sir,” the two responded.
        I waited until I heard the door click shut. I drew my knife.
        The Zebra was still breathing, but he didn't appear conscious. I turned down the morphine to wake him up. His heart rate picked up, but he remained still... curious.
        I reached my knife towards one of his hind legs. “Don't worry, I'll be gentle...” I muttered as I slowly moved the knife up his hind leg, just brushing the top of the covers, making sure to stay out of his striking distance.
        As I danced the blade further up his thigh I saw little beads of sweat forming on his brow, but he still didn't dare move. I exhibited “mildly sociopathic behavior” indeed; I moved the blade right atop his boy bits. I thought I saw him flinch.
        “Wakey wakey,” was my only warning.
        Nothing.
        I lanced the knife clean through his junk, gelding him swiftly.
        He wailed like a banshee (the mythical creature, not the Covie air support) as he shot straight up in bed, pulling his restraints taught. I put my other hand forward and shoved him back. He curled up into a ball as best he could.
        “Now, you're going to tell me everything I want to know. If you hurry, the doctors might be able to salvage some bits and pieces. If not, I am capable of doing worse.”
        He just laid there and sobbed, but it looked like he nodded his head in the affirmative.
        “First off, what intelligence did you gather on the subterranean facility?” I had to watch my phrasing, reverse interrogation and all that jazz.
        “Caesar... wanted us to... find the Daemon... of the North.”
        “He's still sore about that little escapade? I did sink half his fleet, though... Why did he choose you?”
        “We were... quiet, the most... indiscernible.” He was starting to compose his words a bit better, coping with the pain surprisingly well.
        “And yet you fell short. Why do you think that is?”
        “The stars have... gifted you. You are a daemon of unimaginable strength..”
        “Yeah, right. Superstition hints at solutions, yet is not one in and of itself. You failed because we were better. You may have had a pair of Kings, but I'm all Aces.”
        “Then gambling is your vice.”
        “Nope, it's a pastime. Vice is what routes you. Virtue is what saves you. When did you start following us?”
        “The North... we were meant to find you.”
        “And Stalliongrad was North enough, or were you en route?”
        “Yes, it was sufficient.”
        “You camped out for me and my team. What's the source of your intel?”
        “You call him... Chuck Finley.”
        My blood ran cold. Not just because of the name... a name kept amongst my team exclusively, but also because I noticed the Zebra was a mare. And Zebras are incredibly strong.
        She sprung around, the restraints giving out under such a force. My earlier lancing was not as effective as I'd hoped at disabling her. I dodged to the right, and pushed the Zebra onward... and out the window.
        I heard a distinctive splat followed by some screams from below. I peered out the window. Confirm on Zebra pancake. Kind of ironic that the one that almost killed Pizza wound up as one in the end.
        Fencing and Daze rushed into the room, weapons at the ready. “Well, our asset just went out the window... literally. It looks like things are getting a bit more complicated.”
        “What did he say sir?” Daze asked.
        “Not enough, that's what.”
        “Well, what do we do now?” Fencing asked.
        “Find out more.”

        Luckily the Zebra's brain had remained mostly intact, and I managed to get my hands on it. I was comparing it to both a pony's, and my own. Several regions of the brain were much more similar to mine than a pony's, especially the regions in charge of reactions and higher thought processes. Regions that were lacking were the ones that acted like a moral regulator.
        Pizza was still out, and Lyra was still watching over him. I walked up behind her. She was sitting like a human, which was odd for a pony. I reached out and started massaging her shoulders. She was tense, but I was careful to be gentle.
        “Thanks,” she cooed.
        I silently kept up the massage. “I should be thanking you, for keeping an eye on Pizza. He means the world to me, no homo though. I haven't seen too many ponies sit like you do.”
        “I like to sit like this. And I have never seen someone take such a beating and survive...”
        “You know what they say: you can't stop a leatherneck, we adapt and survive.”
        “Guess that's true. They also say there isn't an atheist in a foxhole.”
        “Most find something to believe in before they hop in. Most go with God, but I'm not too keen on such an idea. If we're fighting with God on our side, who would stand against us? Instead, I carry hope on my shoulders through every battlefield. Hope will keep you going when you ought not to be.”
        “And what if hope runs out?”
        I sat down next to her, both of us gazing at Pizza's unconscious form. “If you can't run, then you crawl. And if you can't do that, you find someone else to carry you. Everyone has something worth fighting for, even if they don't know it. Keep fighting, keep them fighting, and you'll find it.”
        “But what if there is no hope to begin with?”
        “I think of hope like probabilities. Like there ain't much hope in me walking over to the Caesar and shoving an M69 Frag grenade up his ass... but there is a non-zero probability. No matter the odds, storms can be weathered. Hope is how we fight.”
        “But what are we fighting for? It seems worthless compared to the loss of life.”
        “We fight for a brighter tomorrow. Even if we can't see it, others will, and that's what's worth the fight. The dead however, are never worth it. I still think Patton had the right idea of how wars should go: one general versus another, until the other is defeated. No soldiers, just the generals. Things would be better that way, don't you think?”
        “Yeah, but putting so much weight into a single fight doesn't seem very good for a nation's people.”
        “And that's why there is more than just generals in a war. Damn shame, too.”
        We sat quietly for a while. She snuggled up against me, but my armor stopped me from feeling her warm fur. I wrapped an arm around her. She had some ways to go, but she would go far. I'd be sure of it. Time ticked on by.

        “Why did you go all batty?” Lyra asked.
        “I found something worth fighting for. Something bigger than myself; a plan B for Equestria. Almost killed me, too. I still haven't gotten used to those wings yet.”
        “What I mean to say is, why did you choose to change who are?”
        “I didn't actually. One's character is in their heart. One's abilities is in their body and mind. I am just as I was before the procedure, but I may have grown a bit more in character.”
        “You sound like you know a lot. Where did you study?”
        “Never went to college myself, surprisingly. Barely made it out of high school. Dominated the ASVAB, though. Never stop reading, is my tip. Colleges just seem to only want your money. Schools just want you to pass the standardized testing so they can get more funding. Greed drives education. Passion drives intelligence.”
        “Hmm... never thought of it that way. So, after all of this, I shouldn't go to university?”
        “Well, it depends what you want to do. If you want to have good money, a good job, and a good house, college is definitely the way to go. Me? I wasn't looking for a job, I was looking for revenge and a paid passion. Turns out I could get both by signing up for the military.”
        “But what about family?”
        “Depends what you define as family. Brothers-in-arms are brothers for for life, sums it up for me. I never actually wanted to settle down and start a family... yet. The day will come, but it is far off.”
        “Would you ever settle down, here in Equestria? I know this calm little town that's only a train ride away.”
        “You know what... I'll probably move here outright. When this war ends -and it will end- I think this would be a nice place to live. Canterlot is just a bit too busy for me, reminds me of New Harmony.”
        “New Harmony?”
        “A mega-city on Mars. Very busy, military, and just a hop skip and a jump from Earth. Insurrectionists once tried to sneak a couple bombs from the military there.”

        We sat together a bit more. Minutes ticked over to hours. I started hearing her snoring. I slowly got up, gently setting her down. She was cute when she was asleep. I was about to fetch her a blanket and pillow, but Lockheart was already on the scene.
        “Goodnight, Lyra,” he whispered into her ear, placing the pillow and blanket.
        “You must be proud of her,” I said.
        “I am. Ruin her, and I'll ruin you.”
        “I wouldn't even dream of it, Colonel. She is a nice mare.”
        “Not the nicest. She takes too much after me. I joined the EAF a long time ago, against my parents advice. She did the same. Although I do not particularly approve of her choice, I must respect it.”
        “Well said, Lockheart.”
        “She cares for Pizza, you know?”
        “I can see that.”
        “But you don't see the weight of it. She really cares for Pizza, but she feels similarly about you.”
        “And how do you know this? Dad-sense?”
        “Partly, she has all of her mother's tells.”
        “Best to keep her out of the casinos then.”
        “Yeah. Let's get some grub, my treat.”
        “If its in the mess hall, its free anyways.”
        “As I said: my treat.”
        I just had to grin at that.

        I was prepping one of the most infamous drinks in the UNSC: Tarkov's War Cocktail. Fill a glass halfway with grain alcohol, add a shot of gasoline, a shot of detergent, a pinch of napalm coagulant, and top it all off by filling the rest of the glass with vodka. Now, if the war couldn't kill you, how could a measly drink drink? “One lifer, to another,” he raised his War Cocktail.
        I raised my glass, “And to every son of a bitch in between.”
        We had slammed back the nigh-lethal concoction. Tarkov knew his shit when it came to making a tough drink. The stuff guzzled down like molasses. I was still finding it funny that I snuggled up with the Colonel's daughter and ended up sharing drinks with him within the same hour.
        As it turned out, Pizza, Solace, myself, and Lockheart are the only lifers in Crimson. Major Pane had only shot up through the ranks quickly, but still hadn't done much service.
        Eventually we figured we should stop drinking and start trying to figure out the next steps to take. I made sure to leave out the part of Chuck Finley still being active.
        “Alright, I'm a little buzzed, so we'll go back over this in the morning with sober minds.”
        “It is the morning, Joe.”
        I checked my clock. Damn, he was right. “Next morning, then. I think we should head back to Stalliongrad with the Canterlot One Hundred and retake the city. On our return, we'll say 'hello' to Al Capony. Sound good?”
        “You're intoxicated, so no. But I am too, so yes. How about we get some sleep instead?”
        I popped a salute, “Great plan, Colonel, sir.”

        The sun was high in the sky by the time we awoke. Lyra was still with Pizza, while the Colonel and I were a bit hungover. I started up with a drink to help remedy that.
        “This'll help, Lockheart,” I told him, passing him this pale yellow sludge of a drink.
        “What exactly is 'this', anyways?”
        “Seeing how hangovers are caused by dehydration of the brain as well as a corresponding lack of nutrients, I just threw together everything that was missing. I also added some painkillers to the mix.”
        “You had me at 'painkillers',” he immediately took the drink, as did I. Gunshots told us the rest of the team was practicing. Hopefully this drink worked. Tarkov called in the “Reparation” to the “War Cocktail”.
        “I see you've fortified again,” came a gentle voice from my six.
        “Luna, didn't expect to see you down here.”
        “Just coming by to see if you have any recommendations for space exploration.”
        “Those horn-heads in the MAS finally decided to slip the surly bonds of Earth and touch the face of God?”
        “It would seem so. Do you have any ideas?”
        “Right this way.” I got up from the table and walked out the main door. Outside the HQ, the Pelican was resting easy. I stepped aboard and accessed the computer onboard. I pulled up ancient Earth rockets and extracted their schematics. I printed off the designs.
        “This should do her. The Saturn-V rocket, it can carry over 100,000 pounds to a trans-lunar injection orbit. It worked fine for humanity some years ago.”
        “This will be perfect. Also, the Canterlot One Hundred can handle themselves in a fight, but they seem to go through a substantial amount of ammo. I hope you can remedy this.”
        “I better, we'll need them in an upcoming operation. Also, it seems that leak from Cloudsdale is still active and is working with the Zebras. I would recommend the Lunar Guard to route it. How about a little quid pro quo?”
        “I'll get right to it. How has Pizza been doing?”
        “He'll be fine, but he sure got a shellacking. Lyra won't leave his side. Send word to the Canterlot One Hundred to rally outside their barracks for additional training. I'd best get my team prepped.”
        “Consider it done. Send Pizza my best wishes.”
        “I will, ma'am.”
        She took off, leaving me in the Pelican. I had a contact on my motion sensor, a friendly.
        “What did Luna have to say?” Spectacles asked, sneaking up from behind.
        “Canterlot One Hundred can't shoot for shit. Get your gun, and plenty of ammo. We're gonna have some fun.”

        The Canterlot One Hundred seemed to pay very rapt attention to my squad standing in front of them. MCPO Daze, Major Pane, Colonel Lockheart, Rear Admiral Solace, Private Footfall, T/5 Keen Eye, CPL Starfire, PVT Fencing, Spectacles and myself all stared them down. Looking at the company's formation told me they were fourteen shy of the original 100. Well-met's victims not present.
        “Today, you will learn how to shoot straight. Ammo may be cheap, but it is also finite. You're going to have to make every round count,” I said to the company.
        “Sir, where's the other guy, from CQC training, sir?” Sgt. Numbskull said.
        “Zebras almost did him in. Luckily the pack was too strong for Caesar's wolves. Grab your new rifles, we'll be heading out to Ponyville for this exercise. Bring your gear too.” The soldiers grabbed their saddlebags and fell in behind my team on the mother of all marches.
        Hours past and we made it to Ponyville. I diverted the team to the North. The Everfree was about a mile to the West and three to the South of Ponyville when I stopped the team. They all looked exhausted, and even I felt some of their pain.
        I had the men dig some foxholes, only giving them five minutes each. The rest of Crimson helped out with the drilling. Footfall had a tendency to sneak up behind the recruits and surprise them with vulgarities. He could swear like a longshoreman, though it didn't seem to be his nature.
        Once they were dug in I had them ready their rifles. I had already placed a line of metal targets downrange. Time to see their accuracy. “Let the lead fly!” I yelled. The company didn't waste a second, but they treated it like a mad minute. Only a handful of rounds actually struck home. That would never do. “You're all a bunch of sissies. Crimson, show them how it's done!” I shouldered my BR.
        Almost every round fired pinged off the targets. The rest of the boys seemed a fair bit surprised at this. I wasn't, we had already tuned our accuracy and firing discipline. I was here to pass on such disciplines to the Canterlot One Hundred.
        “Company, can anypony tell me how you done fucked up?” I asked.
        A lone LT yelled from his foxhole, “We got too excited?”
        “I'll take that. Where I'm from it's called 'Buck Fever'. The thrill of the kill makes you hurry the shot. Now, reload and try that again, but be patient this time. And take your guns off of automatic, you won't hit anything that way.” I heard mags slam home in receivers, then firing switches toggle over to a less rapid setting. “Shooters ready?” I didn't hear any negatives. “Commence fire!”
        Several more pings sounded off downrange. I smiled a little behind my golden visor. So they could learn.

        Time inched by, the sun no longer graced the hardened faces of these soldiers, the moon rose high into the night sky, then the last round echoed out. The cool night air was welcomed to their sweat-stained fatigues and exhausted muscles. “Cease fire,” my order range out, seeming to echo through the environment.
        I saw more than a few collapse on their guns. Many were rubbing their shoulders. Not much was left of the steel targets. I only had one mag left. After the ambush at the HQ, I'd always keep some extra ammo on hand. They had gotten pretty damn good with the new weapons. Given the disarray of the Mafia, these new guns would most likely actually get to the other soldiers across the land, instead of being intercepted. It was one hell of a trial run.
        “Damn fine work, boys. Let's RTB and rest up.” I made sure to go at a slower marching pace than before. They earned it. We left the emplacements behind, being too tired to fill in the foxholes anyways. The march was long and tedious, but welcome. The sun was brutal today, the moon was much more kind.

        The Canterlot One Hundred quickly got in their barracks. I lead the rest of my team to the HQ, keeping a close eye on my motion sensor. All clear. I waved them through the door, but I was also hearing some gunfire from inside. I kept a firm grip on my BR.
        The report was that of a DMR. To my surprise, Pizza was at the shooting range. “Hey, you ain't dead!” I told him.
        “Well, death came for me, but he didn't what none of this, so he left. Plus Lyra wouldn't let me go.”
        I looked behind Pizza and found Lyra at the spotter table. I slapped Pizza's pauldron, “You up for some logistics?”
        “Only if the doc green lights it,” Pizza shoved a thumb back towards Lyra.
        “If you can shoot, you can scoot.”
        “Fine, but let me finish this mag.” Seven more rounds rang out, then the rifle went *click*.
        “Now?”
        “Sure. What are we moving?”
        “Every scrap of UNSC gear. This HQ currently houses some classified UNSC materiel, and is compromised by UNSC standards, which will not suffice. The Equestrian gear can stay, though. All native tech here can be found elsewhere.”
        “Should I grab the Pelican?”
        “Yeah, and be sure to rig up a pair of Spectacles' Mongooses to it, too. We'll be leaving the bird at Bravo Base.”
        “Copy that.” Pizza ran out to grab the Pelican, I moved to the back storage area that previously served as our med bay. I moved several UNSC crates outside the HQ and left them for Pizza to place aboard the Pelican.
        “What's all this?” Solace asked, seeing the crates.
        “We're moving our classified materials to some place safer. Caesar may know of this HQ, but he doesn't know what it holds. I'd like to leave it like that.”
        “Need any help?”
        “Negative. Only UNSC personnel should handle these crates. Better compartmentalizes any valuable intel pertaining to the gear.”
        “Understood,” he left.
        The last crate was moved, and the Mantis got rigged up. The HQ was siphoning power from the Castle yet again. “We're ready for takeoff, care to specialize a location?” Pizza asked.
        “I'll fly this bird, we're headed back to our old LZ. There's a carbon copy of the HQ there, though it is powered down.”
        “Once more unto the breach...”
        “You said it.”

        The gear was stored without incident, and we drove the Mongooses Spectacles engineered back to Canterlot posthaste. The Mongooses handled just like the UNSC versions. I'd better give my thanks to Spectacles. He even put a switch labeled “WEP” between the handlebars. Wartime Emergency Power, it's just as effective as it sounds. Better save it for when I need it.
        The Mongoose, at least in my history, is known for being able to go wherever you want it. I managed to drive it all the way through into the HQ with ease. Pizza parked his Goose next to mine, right by the entrance.
        “Spectacles, those Mongooses you made worked perfectly.” He didn't seem to hear. Instead I heard the sound of arc welding coming from the workshop. “Go get some rest, Pizza. Those wounds aren't fully healed just yet.” He made his way to the mess. I made my way to the workshop.
        The polarization automatically increased on my visor. I waited for him to finish up the weld. “Spectacles, glad to see you're still working hard.”
        “Why yes I am. Right now I'm working on a much more combat effective variant of the Steel Ranger armor. The Mk Is had some difficulties in Well-met. The Mk IIIs were decent in Stalliongrad, but none of them have performed how I wanted them to. I've made several revisions, but each one doesn't quite have what it takes. Do you have any pointers?”
        “Well, Mjolnir uses synthetic muscles for augmented movement. It also has a ballistic gel layer. The gel layer acts as a non-Newtonian fluid, hardening upon high-velocity impacts, yet liquid at slow speeds, like one's movements. Pretty good at blocking bullets, I'd say.”
        “Non-Newtonian fluids... that might just work for this.”
        “What version are you on now, Mk IV?”
        “Mk XXV.”
        “Twenty-five? Jesus, you do not stop working, do you?”
        “I always have other projects if I ever need a break from one. For example: I've managed to compact the Gauss Rifle design from the Warthog, and made a one-pony portable version of it. The only problem is the power source. I can't find one effective enough that is light enough to carry. I guess a generator would could work, but the lightest one of those I can find is 800 pounds.”
        “Have you tried using talismans? They worked great for the Transmogrification Armor Ability.”
        “I can't get my hooves on enough gems to make it feasible for mainline production. I'm making the Steel Ranger armor for a regular army, not just a Special Forces team.”
        “Have you tried contacting the MAS about this?”
        “Armor production is covered by the MWT, not the MAS. Any other attempts would have to go through the OIA, and they're a pain in the flank that takes forever to get you what you want.”
        “Then just ask Luna or Celestia. Either one could get something done much faster.”
        “I have too much on my plate already, do you think you could talk to them about it?”
        “At the first chance. Your Mongooses were great in the field today.”
        “One more thing: Ironshod Firearms has accepted the AM rifle design. But I think they're calling it an Anti-Machine rifle, not Anti-Materiel, like the UNSC.”
        “Sounds like progress. You ready for some more Crimson Actual?”
        “Another operation is ready?”
        “I made a promise to retake Stalliongrad. The Survivors and the One Hundred will be available for us.”
        “Alright, when will it launch?”
        “Hopefully soon. Don't want to keep the refugees waiting.”
        “I see. Do you have anything that could stack the deck in our favor?”
        “The Benevolent Exchange.”
        “That'll do it! Send me word when all is ready.”
        “I'll be sure to do that. See you around.” I left Spectacles to his work, and headed out to check up on the rest of the team. I found Lyra in the barracks, reading a book as she watched over Pizza as he dozed off with a couple of ration wrappers laying on his bed. She also had a cardboard box under her bed.
        “Joe, glad to see you. I've got a gift for you and Pizza, but Pizza is kinda asleep. What do you think? I had it imported from the Griffin Kingdoms, seeing as leather-working is illegal in Equestria, for certain ethical reasons.” She opened up the box with her magic and pulled out a pair of flawless dusters. They were dark brown, and all leather, with sleeves that stopped just above the elbows. The shimmered off of them in a way that emphasized their new-ness. It even smelled brand new.
        “Wow! These are amazing!” I quickly donned the duster, and it actually fit over Mjolnir rather easily. The tail went down to below my knees. Pretty damn good, if I say so myself. “Pizza will just love this, thanks.”
        “Don't mention it. I've always figured you deserved more appreciation from Equestria.”
        “Well, after over two decades of war, it is more than appreciated.”
        “Two decades? That's how long you and Pizza have been fighting?”
        “Eeyup. The Human-Covenant War started in 2525, when I was five years old. When I was seventeen, I enlisted, a year too early mind you. Then, I fought and fought and fought some more, and haven't stopped fighting since. Hell, even when I was on furlough the Covenant still found me and I fought then, too.”
        “Wow, quite the career.”
        “And let's not even get started with cross-training and the Helljumpers. Pizza talked me into that outfit. He'll love his duster, I can tell you that.”
        “Thanks, that means a lot to me.”
        “It means more to me, finally getting thanks for everything. It's been a long road to get here, and there's an even longer one ahead.” I left Lyra with Pizza and her book. I headed to the mess to get some more grub, and then I headed to bed with the rest of the team.

        I was in a muddy trench. Fog was thick, only a hundred yards' visibility. I ducked down as I walked into the command center. This was definitely a permanent structure. The trench had wooden floors and several amenities that ought not to be on a battlefield. There was an old radio kit sitting on a table. Orders were being barked over it, but I couldn't understand what was being said.
        I clutched my rifle a bit more firmly and I moved down the trench. I noticed I held the M1903 Springfield. I also noticed I didn't have Mjolnir. Something was up, but I felt the M1 Helmet atop my head and the green fatigues around my body. At least I found comfort in that.
        What was disquieting was the number of Swastikas in this trench. I shouldered my rifle, and advanced carefully. “Halt!” I heard somebody yell.
        I dropped down, spinning 180, and fired. *POW* The round struck the hostile square in the chest. He collapsed instantly. He probably wasn't alone. I hurried out of command center, leaving a frag behind.
        I looked out to either side of the trench. Fog and fog. I had no sense of direction, but it looked like the fog was thickening. Either one or the other will get me to allied lines. I hopped out to the right and ran in that direction. I heard what sounded like a buzz saw going off to my front. At least I was going the right way.
        I doubled my pace, stopping after a few hundred yards, in a treeline. I could see the muzzle flashes up ahead, they matched that buzz saw sound I heard. I took aim. The rear sight aperture took a little getting used to. I adjusted it for 100 yards.
        Next I flipped the toggle to “Off” for the magazine. I chambered a new round and took aim. Safety off. *POW* Miss: low, a little left. I adjusted the sights again. I pulled open the bolt and placed in another round. The bolt slid home, and I took aim again.
        *POW* Direct hit. I switched the magazine back on and ran towards where the MG42 was firing. No one was there. Not even bodies. I looked around. Not even the MG nest had bodies in it. No one was anywhere.
        Come to think of it, that man I shot earlier in the trench, I don't recall seeing a head nor hands. Only the ancient uniform of the German Army. There was more distant gunfire, I could feel my heart racing. I fixed my bayonet to the Springfield.
        The gunfire was getting closer. I just stayed there, feebly pointing the .30-06 in the direction of it. I couldn't see anything beyond the fog, but I swear that's where the fighting was. Then I heard it behind me. I turned around. The cold weather was starting to get to me. My rifle shook slightly.
        I heard a whistle blow from where the MG42 was, signaling an incoming bayonet charge. I jumped out of the hole I was in and headed the other direction. I could here screams and war cries following me, getting closer and closer.
        I stopped and spun around. I saw silhouettes shift in the fog. I brought up my rifle. Gazing through my sights was nothing, just more fog. The silhouettes vanished as the fog thickened, leaving my just as clueless as before. The screams stopped shortly thereafter. “What the-?” I muttered, being interrupted by a very different kind of whistling.
        The shells landed 30 yards to my front, landing me on my ass. I turned around, trying to get clear, scrambling to my feet. The whistling never stopped, it only grew with each passing second. I dove into another trench, shrapnel screeching through the air over my head. Without warning, a shell landed right between my legs. “It's the shell you don't hear that kills you...” I heard a voice in the fog echo.
        The shell didn't go off, so I jumped out of the trench, not giving it the chance to. Back onto the battlefield for me. Just as soon as it started, like the bayonet rush, the shelling stopped. The shell in the trench never blew.
        I stood there, in the muddy field of No Man's Land, not knowing what was happening. My heart pounded in my chest. Then, the fog cleared, the sun gracing the cloudy sky. I was on an island.
        Overhead, through a gap in the clouds, I saw a B-29 Superfortress fly by. Its nose art was unmistakable: The Enola Gay. I saw its bomb bay open. Only two other B-29s were in the air, flying escort. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
        The flash seared my skin, igniting my fatigues. The shock wave blasted me skyward. I felt an odd sensation roil through my body as the pain subsided after a few moments of agony. I opened my eyes... and spread my wings.
        I drifted down into the Everfree forest. My mind was double-fucked. What the hell just happened? I touched down and started trotting around the forest. Again, no one was in sight. Not even other animals. Somehow, I had become a thestral again.
        “Relax, Joe,” a voice sounded in my head. I turned around. Nothing. I looked more skeptically around, but still I saw nothing. I took flight and flew above the forest canopy.
        I was headed towards Canterlot, but something was odd. There was a large purple sphere encasing the entire city. It looked like there was a pink cloud of sorts inside the capital. I hovered there, staring at this oddity. Then, several ICBMs rocketed towards the shielded city, blasting harmlessly against the shield.
        Next, another volley, but this one of only three missiles. Seeing the lack of contrails, I knew these were MIRVs. But a golden foehammer grasped the warheads, plucking them out of the sky. They were taken down over the Whitetail, to the South. The warheads exploded in a green and unearthly glow. My whole world went white.
        With time, my vision came back to me. I tried rubbing the spots out of my eyes... I had hands again. What was going on here? “Take it easy, Joe,” Princess Luna appeared in front of me, stepping out of the white.
        “Ma'am, what are you doing here?”
        “I keep a watchful eye on everypony's dreams.”
        “What was all that back there?”
        “I believe the term is 'Nightmare'.”
        “That was rather unusual for a nightmare. Normally mine involves either Richard or Mormon. I take it I must be dreaming?”
        “That is correct.”
        “Can you tell me anything about it? Like what caused it?”
        “I'm afraid I can't. Normally it is caused by fears, but those tend to be underlying in most cases. The best advice I can give you is to face your fears.”
        “Face my fears? I wouldn't know where to start. I may have the fear of death, but that ain't exactly something one can face.”
        “Regardless, something of that dream was from a fear that you harbor. Something that will truly scare you. It may not be apparent, but It should be noted. Could it have been the bayonets? The artillery? Or even that... bomb?”
        “No, ma'am. I've dealt with all of those. Bayoneted a Brute... Called in artillery on my own position... Even detonated several nukes myself. But that image towards the end, Canterlot... what was the about?”
        “Maybe a concern you have, maybe a fear. Hard to tell.”
        “I did make note how indefensible the city is if it should be besieged.”
        “That might be it, but I can't say for certain. Your mind is very different from anypony else I've visited.”
        “My mind is very different from most Spartans. I guess I'll just ponder over this for the next few days. Maybe something will come up.”
        “That sounds like a plan, Joe. And I would recommend you wake up soon. You've almost slept for eight hours.”

        Groggily, I regained consciousness and got out of bed. Okay, that was an odd dream, but one glance at my clock confirmed it for me: almost eight hours of sleep. I'd better figure out what it meant, but in all due time. Right now, I had a city to retake.

        We were just outside Canterlot's train yard, awaiting the locomotive. The Canterlot One Hundred, the Stalliongrad Survivors, and the Crimson Guard were standing in front of me. The Canterlot One Hundred was equipped with the Steel Ranger Mk IV suits, which were optimized for arctic warfare as per Spectacles specifications. Crimson was given the Mk V prototypes. The Stalliongrad Survivors opted for their green fatigues from the previous battle instead of power armor. The troops looked restless. Time for a speech.
        “Men, today we charge headlong into the gates of hell, and not all of you will return. I cannot force you to come with, nor will I hold it against you to stay here. You all have long lives ahead of you, lives that may be stolen by the Zebras occupying Stalliongrad. But, we will restore the homes of a very proud people, now displaced. Future generations will herald those who embark upon this great crusade as champions of justice and paragons of what is right and just in this world. A life is better lived well than lived long.
        “To those of you who stay, keep an eye out for Operation: Moscow. This is the name of the game we choose to play. We will fight well, and we will win. This road will be treacherous and unbeaten. The path will be deadly. The blood will be our own.
        “Stalliongrad is a very cold city. The rugged winds over its ice have weathered the town and its former residents into hardy individuals with hardier minds. Bottom line is, the enemy have taken our land, and it is our job to take it back. We will be fighting for nothing more than dirt. But it is our dirt, and we will make them pay for every inch they've taken. Everyone who wants to join in on this battle royale of misery and bloodshed, join me atop this train platform and let us journey into the maw of the beast.”
        101 troopers clambered onto the platform, not one stayed behind. I spotted Pizza amongst the crowd... I had to tell him something he wasn't going to like. I walked up to him. “Pizza, you can't follow me into this battle. You're still injured. I need you to stay here and help out Spectacles. Get well, then you can fight again.”
        “I'm fine, Joe.”
        “No, you're not. Remember: I saw your injuries firsthand. Stay put, and I'll be back before you know it.”
        “Joe...”
        “Pizza, that's an order. I can't have Spartans dying on my watch just because I let walking wounded enter a fight they never should have been in in the first place.”
        “Fine, but next time, I will go whether you'd like me to or not.”
        “Understood. Now, go get Spectacles, we need him on overwatch more than in the field.”
        Pizza ran off, grabbing the ingenious earth pony and taking him back to the HQ. I looked around some more and found Lockheart talking rather sternly to Lyra. After a bit, she looked defeated and wandered off the platform, back to Crimson HQ. I made my towards the Colonel.
        “You don't want her coming with?” I asked the Colonel.
        “No, she just isn't ready for this kind of fight.”
        “Sir, she did handle herself quite well back in Marecago.”
        “She has never been in a full assault force before. You've seen what war can do to anypony, would you expect me to throw my daughter into such a fray?”
        I sighed, “You're right, but we could still use a medic in the fight.”
        “We'll make do without.”
        “Plus, Pizza may need to get checked up on while we're away.”
        A train horn blew in the distance. All of us chambered around.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

        “Yes, it is the Flood. I thought I was finished with them back on the Ark. I guessed wrong.”
        “Lieutenant, if the Flood found its way to this… ‘Equestria’, you have no excuse for not alerting the Infinity.”
        “No, sir, I did have an excuse. A damn good one at that: There was never any means of FTL travel on Equestria. Upon the parasite’s arrival, it was already quarantined to the planet. Plus, I had something it never expected.”
        “And what was that Lieutenant? I’m getting tired of you only giving half the story until we ask for the rest.”
        “Admiral, what I had with me was magic, and a crate full of nukes. Also, I had friends either dumb or brave enough to follow me.”
        “So you failed basic communications protocols, botched a first contact scenario, and used WMDs without proper authorization. This is not looking too good for you, Lieutenant.”
        “Excuse me, Admiral?”
        “That’s enough for today.”

> Ch 11 Hard Work and Promises Kept
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

        The train went straight to the tunnels of Stalliongrad's metro system. I ordered the train stopped before we got to the station. We would hoof it the last mile... the Zebras may be waiting for us and a train would get us slaughtered. I took point. “Fireteams, sound off! Crimson, ready!”
        “Cerulean, ready!”
        “Verdant, ready!”
        “Pallid, ready!”
        We had divided into two teams of 25, and two teams of 24. Lockheart was leading Cerulean, I was leading Crimson, Solace was leading Pallid, and Pane was leading Verdant. Crimson had temporarily dissolved into one homogeneous force within the Canterlot One Hundred. The Stalliongrad Survivors were still together within the ranks of Pallid. I kept my BR at the ready. I think this would be the first time in history a city was assaulted by train. At least I knew they wouldn't expect it.
        “Cerulean, we're coming up on the metro station. Lock it down; it's our only way out.”
        “Right away, sir,” Lockheart radioed.
        “Pallid, you'll lead the charge out of the tunnel. We'll need you to take the consulate.”
        “Copy that,” Solace replied.
        “Verdant, keep Pallid covered. They're our main force. Try flanking the enemy.”
        “Yessir!” Pane said.
        “Crimson, you're with me. We'll push through the city, building to building. Take back what is ours!”
        I doubled my pace through the tunnel. We were nearing the entrance. Cerulean advanced to the lead of the formation. Steel Ranger grenadiers laid down some smoke and made us an entrance with some carefully placed explosives. All hell broke loose moments thereafter.
        The Zebras had already fortified the city, and it looked like the consulate was turned into a command center. Pallid rushed out into the apex of a Zebra kill box. “Pallid, fall back! Snipers, anti-armor, take out those enemy strong points!” Eight Rangers did not return from Pallid's charge, but their sacrifice revealed enemy positions.
        Cerulean counter-snipers popped up, suppressing the hostile snipers. The .308 caliber rounds flew back and forth across the snow. Once the rounds stopped pinging off of our cover, I saw several Rangers with rocket launcher battle-saddles. They let loose their ordinance, hitting the same mark as our counter-snipers. Pallid pushed yet again, this time with much more success, establishing a decent foothold.
        Verdant appeared immediately behind Pallid, but immediately broke off to either side, in two groups. I charged after Verdant went, Crimson following me. I saw Pane toss an apple-shaped frag into a greenhouse. The glass blew to bits, but everypony just ignored it. The Stalliongrad Survivors were taking the right flank along with half of Verdant. They charged into that same narrow hallway Fencing went into last time I was here.
        The gunfire was tumultuous. It was a tempest of lead, bullets matching snowflakes in the air. We were losing more men, but Pallid kept the push to the consulate, hell-bent on their objective. Eventually, we made it to the plaza. Pallid quickly got dug in as Verdant continued to rush through the enemy flanks.
        That left Crimson.
        I pointed toward the consulate building, the enemy HQ in Stalliongrad. “Fire thermobaric rockets!” Several rockets of Starfire's special blend flashed outward from our positions, wrecking the building. The whole superstructure was compromised under the overwhelming fire, and promptly collapsed. The resulting fires engulfed the building's frame but the chill of Stalliongrad's air snuffed them out just as quickly as they sprung up. We would need specialized chemical flamethrower units to burn down a building in Stalliongrad. Regardless, the enemy HQ was destroyed.
        It looked like Verdant was already picking through the rubble for any Zebra survivors. I turned my attention left, down the main road. More Zebra forces. Lots more. Guess we couldn't let Verdant do all the work, now could we?
        The Zebras were holed up in many of the structures; the towers proving to be the most menacing, while our numbers proved to be diminishing. If we wanted to take this city, we would have to do it sooner rather than later. I scoped in on the rooftops. *BAM BAM BAM* *BAM BAM BAM* *BAM BAM BAM* No kills, but it did suppress a few snipers if there were any. *BAM BAM BAM* Once more for good measure.

        The fighting drew on for another hour, and whenever Crimson tried to advance, more Zebra snipers kept us suppressed. I looked at Pallid's rocketeers. They were running low on ammo. Several of them had heavily dented armor. The rest were dead. Verdant couldn't even make an advance under this maelstrom of bullets. Cerulean was the only one not having any troubles, but we needed them as a rear guard. Walking out of here would kill more of us than the fighting.
        I needed to lighten my load if I wanted to clear the Zebra fortifications. I dropped my BR and every mag I had for it. I kept my Magnum in my right hand, with a spare mag in the other. Everything else I dropped, save for my Thruster Pack and Mjolnir itself. I vaulted over the edge of the plaza fountain we had used for cover. I started running down the street.
        I saw a scope glint overhead. I thrusted to the left, dodging the round. The sniper quickly readjusted his aim, but my shields started flaring before he even got another round off. It looked like it came from the left. I turned in that direction, finding a diner full of Zebras. These Zebras had automatic rifles with them. The sign out front read “Big D's Diner: we've got the largest veggie sausages in town!” If it wasn't for this place being a war zone, I'd be laughing.
        I pointed my Magnum forward, letting loose. *BAM* Got one. *BAM* Double Kill! And another. *BAM* A miss. Was it just me, or was my aim going to shit recently? Regardless, these Zebras seemed in a hurry to evacuate. I jumped through one of the windows of the diner, rolling through the landing.
        A Zebra in a red and gold uniform was waiting for me with a sword. Unfortunately for him, I didn't have any time to waste on him. Coming out of the roll, I fired my Magnum right through the base of his jaw. *BAM* He turned the ceiling a bloody red.
        The Zebras were trying to rush out a side door. *BAM* *BAM* *BAM* *BAM* *click* Double Kill!
        Diner secure, but some got away. I reloaded my Magnum. Now to just get the rest of these buildings secured. Just up the street was one of the three towers, but most of the hostile snipers were on the other two, on the opposite side of the street. I walked over to one of the Zebras I gunned down.
        His rifle wasn't a design I could name, but it looked familiar enough for me to use; a gun's a gun. Richard would know all about it at a glance. I wished he was here now. I shouldered the stripe's rifle and scavenged a few extra mags off of the other dead Zulu Foxtrots. The rifle was suppressed, with a center of mass near the buttstock, enhancing the weapons dexterity and effectiveness in close quarters. I guess that's why it didn't have a scope.
        Zebras had an unusual way of holding rifles compared to Equestrian forces, so their rifles were built differently. Unfortunately for them, that unusual design is ergonomic to a human. The rifle was snug in my shoulder. I pulled back the bolt, seeing a round very much like a 5.56x54mm cartridge. Not quite like the .308 rifles they were sniping with, but effective due to the bullet's unique trajectory through a target's body; the round tumbles in most instances.
        I holstered my Magnum and rushed further up the street. Some Zebras were trying to set up an MG in the first floor. They did not expect a human to breach their perimeter. *Pfft* *Pfft* *Pfft* *Pfft* Double Kill!
        I jumped over their emplacements as I headed for the stairs up. Quickly, I found myself on the roof, behind a team of snipers. I aimed at the spotters first, hoping the snipers' tunnel vision would give me a few extra seconds. *Pfft* *Pfft* *Pfft* I gunned down one of the spotters, but his sniper buddy rolled over immediately, engaging me with his .308. My shields started dropping fast, so I Thrusted back the way I came.
        I found myself back on the stairs leading up, but I needed to get that sniper. I walked over to the doorway I leading back to the diner. Starfire and a few other Steel Rangers had holed up in the diner. “Starfire, get over here!” I radioed.
        I peeked around the doorway and laid down some suppressing fire for her to cross. She got in my building in one piece. “What did you need me for, Joe?” she asked.
        “Do you have any plastiqué?”
        “Joe... its me.”
        “Alright, there's a Zebra sniper on the roof. He knows we're down here. Plant some explosives on the ceiling and see if you can convince him to come on down.”
        “Cover me.”
        Starfire stripped out of the heavy Ranger armor and stretched her wings, grabbing her satchel. She flew up and planted some explosives on the roof, as per my guesstimation of the sniper's location. She landed and suited up. It looked like the Zebra's would rather wait for us than hunt us down... fucking campers.
        “Clear!” Starfire radioed, then blew the plastiqué. A dust cloud drifted down, as did pieces of the sniper up top. His .308 rifle was in pieces. Bits of rubble pinged off my armor. I ran back up the stairs, Starfire following. The roof was clear, but there were still snipers on the other towers. I couldn't see any way into the buildings they were atop.
        “Starfire, I need a rocket launcher.”
        “I'll get some of the high-ex boys up here,” she went back down stairs. I ducked under the guard railing as rounds drifted closer and closer to me. I wish I had Jet Pack...
        My BR and frags would come in handy, but they're back at the fountain, so I waited for the rocketeers to show up. I occasionally popped up and fired a few rounds at the Zebra snipers. I started liking this Zebra rifle, though there was nothing special about it compared to other weapons.
        I shifted my position further down the guard rail to keep them guessing. I fired off another burst. *thump* The first rocketeer was up here. An explosion along the side of the opposite tower was a sure sign of progress. I needed to rearm.
        “Keep the pressure on them!” I ordered the rocketeers. I vaulted over the edge of our tower, Thrusting at the bottom to mitigate my fall. I ran back to the fountain. Pallid's rocketeers had the tower, Verdant had the consulate, Cerulean was still at the metro station, and Crimson was backing up Pallid. The rest of the strike force, the ones who got cut off, were holed up in the fountain. I grabbed my gear and started thinking.
        We won't be able to take the tower conventionally; there's no way in. Cerulean was doing what they could from the metro station; being snipers they'd be best from afar. Pallid's rocket supply was draining fast. Verdant was just a bunch of riflemen. I recalled the Stalliongrad Survivors mentioned that this city has great tunnel systems. Time for Crimson to get unconventional.
        “Starfire, Fencing, rendezvous at the fountain. I have a plan,” I radioed. I fired a few bursts at the Zebra snipers to keep them covered as they made their approach.
        “Sir?” Fencing asked.
        “Fencing, you'll play close support. Starfire, get a few demolition charges ready. You two are with me, we're going down into the tunnels.”
        “Joe, what are you planning?” Starfire asked as she checked her explosives.
        “If we can't get rid of the Zebras, we'll get rid of the tower they're sitting on.”
        I opened up the small manhole cover leading down below the city. I jumped down first, activating the flashlight on my helmet. I kept my BR at the ready. Aside from my light, this tunnel was completely dark. I had no idea how the civilians hadn't broken down from the assault here a while ago. I moved down a tunnel that paralleled the street, Starfire and Fencing followed closely.
        “Starfire, we need to find the supports for the Zebras two towers. We'll place charges on them, then clear out before we touch off. That should bring down the buildings.”
        “Can't we just call in some CAS?”
        “Negative. The Zebras, last time they were here, had a jammer set to our frequencies. They'd most likely know what was coming, and possibly bring it down.”
        “The Zebras have our radio frequencies?”
        “They can jam them, so it's likely.” I saw some movement up ahead. I was smelling a bit of gun oil. “Shh...” I whispered, dropping to a half crouch and hugging one of the tunnel walls. The clinking of the Ranger armor became thunderously apparent.
        “Wait here...” I ordered the two. I crept forward, eyes glued to my motion sensor. I was seeing a few yellow contacts, but no red. I shut off my light, embracing the darkness. I depolarized my visor. My thestral eyes readjusted to the dark, making it seem almost as though it was day. Almost.
        I looked around. Nothing seemed too out of place. My mind drifted to thestral anatomy. They seemed to take many attributes from bats. Remembering back to the kill house at Crimson HQ, with how rifle reports were seeming to map the room for me. Might as well give it a shot.
        I cleared my throat. I took a deep breath. I closed my eyes. Then I let out a shriek as high as I could make it go. What surprised me most was that I went several octaves above what I knew was the limit of my falsetto. It was like I went into an ultra-falsetto, one that was beyond normal hearing. I'll need to talk to Luna about that, but regardless, I could picture the tunnel from the acoustics of that shriek.
        I could, with this sound-sight, see Fencing and Starfire. They didn't seem to have heard the shriek. I focused harder and let out another note, this one more of a chirp. I got the same effect; I could see the tunnel. This time I noticed a few rats... probably those yellow contacts I saw earlier. Up ahead was the supports we needed to target, but something seemed a little blurry up ahead.
        It was as though some of the sound waves were getting absorbed by something. I let out another chirp to confirm my suspicions. It was the same. Something was here.
        I opened my eyes and walked forward, BR snug in my shoulder. I tried letting out another chirp, but the sound-sight effect was significantly less than what it was with my eyes closed. It was a skill I'd have to hone later.
        I entered the chamber with the building supports we needed to demolish. It was large, maybe forty meters across, interspersed with large support columns spaced evenly throughout. The smell of gun oil was stronger here. I stood and looked around a bit, not seeing anything peculiar. I turned to get Fencing and Starfire.
        *Clip* *Clop*
        I spun around, rifle level. I know I heard something in here. I activated VISR mode, but still nothing came through. Was I chasing ghosts? Is there a ghost of Stalliongrad? Back on the Infinity, there were rumors about a ghost on one of the sims... Lockout was the map. The techies tried completely rebuilding the map, but rumor had it the ghost persisted in the re-made Blackout. It was like that until it was pulled entirely from the holodeck, then the rumors went away. Was this that ghost, or maybe something like it? I wasn't even in a sim, but something was up.
        I went back to my team. “Stay frosty, follow me,” I muttered. They followed me into the chamber. I kept my eyes and ears open for any sign of this thing. Thermals were clean. No shimmers of Stealth Cloaks. Nothing. I didn't even blink. “Semper Vigilans” was the motto of ONI for a reason, I guess.
        Bomb Armed. “Charges placed,” Starfire reported.
        “Link them to my comm. Let's get out of here.” Stalliongrad's icy bite was starting to get through to me. I probably should've repaired Mjolnir before heading out here. Just keep thinking about Mjolnir, Joe, it'll keep your mind off of the cold, and whatever that thing was back there...
        If I'm talking to myself, but it's all in my head, is it really a bad sign, or is it just my conscious?
        We made it back to the manhole out of the tunnels. Starfire went first, then Fencing. I was about to climb up when a red contact popped up on my motion sensor. 6 o'clock, level. I spun around, BR sighted in.
        Nothing. I checked all my optics again, still nothing. Ghosts indeed... I climbed up the ladder.
        “You gonna light this candle?” Starfire asked.
        I held up three fingers. Two... One... I clenched my fist as I hit the comm to detonate the explosives. Nothing happened. Bomb Disarmed. I looked down the street. Pallid was falling back to the fountain with the rest of Crimson covering them.
        “Starfire, you did set those to remote detonate, right?”
        “Of course. What happened?”
        “Looks like something's up.” Verdant had finished up with the consulate and had reformed with us at the fountain. I turned to one of the Survivors, “Khrushchev, are the tunnels here lined with lead?”
        The Stalliongrad Survivor was bloodied and battered but he still looked at me with a smile, “Нет, tin man. We only used the strongest of metals in making them. Some of our workers have even found a way to modify the tunnels to amplify signals, if that is what you are wondering.”
        “Shit. Starfire, it looks like someone disarmed our bombs.”
        “That shouldn't be possible, I rigged it with mercury fulminate and tetrazene. You'd lose a hoof and set it off by trying to disarm it. Unless if you have some LN2 lying around.”
        “Do you have a delay fuse?”
        “Only a three second fuse. You're not planning on detonating those bombs manually, are you?”
        “We need those Zebras gone. Unless if you have a better idea.”
        She placed a hoof on her chin, thinking deeply. “Do you have a grenade? I'm fresh out.”
        I held up an M9 HE-DP frag. She quickly grabbed it, then started twisting the top off of the explosive. She pulled out the explosive core of the grenade. “Five seconds, right?”
        “Affirmative,” I said.
        “Does anypony have some paracord?” she asked the company.
        Sergei handed over a bundle of a hundred yards. Starfire ran back down into the tunnel. We waited five minutes, trying our best to survive against the snipers, until she came back, paracord in her mouth. She handed it to me.
        “Pull equals boom,” she said.
        “Clear!” I yelled, pulling hard on the paracord. Nothing happened. One... Two... Three... Four... Fi- *BOOM!* We all looked down the street as the buildings collapsed under their compromised supports, the Zebra snipers fell to their deaths amid the rubble. The boys let out a cheer that could shake the stars. In the distance, Cerulean could be heard as well. The day had been won.
        I saw some tears going down the Stalliongrad Survivors' eyes. “Something wrong, ice colts?” I asked.
        Such is a rare occasion when Vostok would speak, “I never thought I'd see the day...”
        Khrushchev spoke next, “You just blew up a historic hotel that is owned by some of the most corrupt politicians on this continent, and the law firm that bolsters their tyrannical might. It truly is a beautiful sight. All of the old Hooviet Union will know of the justice your team brought here. You will not be forgotten. You saved our people, retook our city, and made my day. Спасибо, tin man.”
        “No need to thank me, Khrushchev, I was only doing my job.”
        “Nonsense, we will build monuments in your honor!”
        “Guess I can't convince you otherwise, huh?”
        “You know it.”
        I let out a sigh and shook my head, a grin greeting my ugly mug. I took in the blasted landscape. Many had lost their lives today. I hope it'd be worth it in the future. I breathed deeply with a newfound ease that only victory can bring. It was a feeling I wish I was more familiar with. I climbed atop the fountain, motioning for Cerulean to join up.
        “Today we have achieved victory over our common enemy. Such a success is marred only by the losses we endured. Many did not live to see our success. Let us not forget their efforts. They gave their today so we may have a tomorrow. With each day you live beyond this one, live in honor of those who can't. Live it for those who charged into the howling dark... and did not return.
        “You few... you proud few, volunteered to be here, on this day, to fight this battle. Without you, defeat would've been assured, and Stalliongrad lost. So let us not have anyone question our being here. We are here, not by coincidence or chance of circumstance, but because it is our destiny. This war is our birthright. Those who meet us on the battlefield will see the wrath we are capable of... and they will fear us.
        “You have done the impossible and did the never-before attempted. Such courage is immeasurable by words alone. Only through your actions and the tomorrows the free and living may enjoy due to them, can such a sacrifice and devotion to duty that you have demonstrated here today be honored. This day will be remembered, for it is not just a major victory in the war, but because it is a testament to what we are all capable of. We all have such insurmountable courage buried deep within ourselves, and it is that courage that you found here, today, in this city of cold, foreboding ice.
        “I am honored to have fought by your side on this day, and I would gladly fight this battle again even if it meant my death, because I know I would never be forgotten. So let us never forget those who sacrificed themselves on this day. In honor of the fallen, may we hope to forge a new future worthy of their sacrifice.”
        I jumped off of the fountain as the men below let out another cheer, many were crying. The future is the only thing you can hope to fight for. It is the only way to forge a better tomorrow... for all. And I'd be damned if I took it from them.
        “What is it with you and powerful speeches, sir?” Fencing asked.
        “Not all of those words were mine, but they all meant something to me. I've seen plenty of war. Too much for one man, if you ask me. I only hope for a world of peace. Unfortunately war always find me, wherever I go.”
        I started walking back towards the metro station. “All teams... gather up the dead and wounded. We're going home,” I radioed.
        We tread down the broken streets into the dark metro tunnels below. All 56 of us.

        I guess Stalliongrad was my baptism of fire in this bloody and visceral war. I still couldn't shake the fact that something was down there, in the tunnels. The Zebras had no forces in the Stalliongrad area to retake the city, but Luna had opted to send some engineers and Royal Guards there to fortify the city against further attacks.
        I was back at Crimson HQ, figuring out the team's next move. The Zebras have escalated their war effort and have been infiltrating and capturing several cities all across Equestria. Our job was to take them out, but I noticed something peculiar.
        Sunny Capony's ledger had locations listed... the very cities that have been taken. I guess this changes the playing field a little; Al Capony is now an enemy of the state. I guess we won't be taking prisoners when we go after him. Right now, the transmogrification armor ability was still cooling down, so I wasn't too keen on going after Capony.
        “Lockheart, Solace, we need to figure how best to continue our war effort. Sunny's ledger shows that the Mafia has deep ties to the captured cities. Stalliongrad was the first of many such city, and many others have fallen like it. Taking down Capony would be a good move, but we also need to retake the captured territories. Good men are dying by the second here. How do you think we should continue?” I asked the two.
        “If we focus our efforts on Capony, it may yield better intel against the Zebras,” Solace said.
        “True, but we need to save as many Equestrian lives as possible. I think we should try to retake Trottingham, cut off the Zebras' supply routes to the other cities. This will make it easier for a regular army to liberate those towns,” Lockheart argued.
        “But as long as Capony stays active, he would tip off the Zebras to our movements. They would see us coming. Any other plans?” I asked.
        “We could counterattack right into Roam or some other Zebra city. We do have that Pelican of yours,” Solace said.
        “And abandon our own? No, I think we should... split up, perhaps? Capony is a single target. Legally, he is as clean as a whistle and has rigged juries before. Making it a kill mission would save us all a lot of time. Time we could use to save more lives,” Lockheart said.
        “You are talking about deliberately killing an Equestrian citizen!” Solace said.
        “The way I see it, he is an enemy. Since when do we give hostiles fair trials?” I said.
        Solace looked slightly taken aback, but gradually accepted our decision. “So... how will we go about doing this?” Solace asked with trepidation on his voice.
        “We'll gather up some additional intel and work with the MoM to set up a diversion. They'll raid one of their suspected distribution warehouses, and I'll take a small team into the Marecago clock tower. We'll capture if he is willing to go quietly, but if not... I will have my sidearm with me,” I said.
        “You want to involve the ministries in this?”
        “Yes. They want to assure Equestria's success in this war. Thus far, that matches our agendas well. I don't see why we couldn't work with them. Spectacles has been sending a few of his designs to the MWT.”
        “Joe, the ministries are all a bundle of bureaucratic nonsense and red tape. If you want to work with them, it'll take years before we can take down Capony.”
        “I won't give them years, just days. If they can't keep up, it's their asses.”
        “Joe, if Pinkie heard you say that, she would have this place crawling in Pinks in no time.”
        “Bottom line: Capony will be combat ineffective by the end of the week. I will meet that deadline,” I reiterated.
        “Fine, Joe, you try to work with the ministries. What will you have us do in the meantime?”
        “Retake Trottingham; it's an important city for the war effort. Zebras have been spotted in the Marejave, and it's en route to Trottingham. Spectacles will airdrop you just outside the Marejave desert. You'll need to talk to Celestia and Luna first; see if you can get a Task Force to assist you. There might be some local forces that you should link up with as well. The 3rd REN fleet is dealing with Zebra warships off the Trottingham coast. They should have some Marines they can lend you for the final assault. You got that?”
        Solace nodded. Lockheart looked at me, “What would you have me do during this?”
        “There are reports of Zebras in the Unicorn Range, pestering some of the locals with harassing sniper fire. The towns and villages in that pocket are locked down unless if we do something. Cloudsdale has meandered into the area, and I think the EAF would like to lend a hand. After that, try to retake Neighagra. The place is highly isolated, with no local forces to link up with. After I'm done with Capony, I'll rendezvous with you there, then we'll head over to Trottingham via Pelican combat air-assault. Three teams; five targets. I think we can manage that.”
        “I think we can. Shall we form the strike teams?”
        “Let's get everypony here in the mess. I'll pick my team first,” I walked off to gather up everyone in Crimson. They were a little excited, though they still looked exhausted after Stalliongrad. I would give them a few days to get ready for the fight. They all sat down, letting go of some unknown burden they carried. A few grabbed some drinks of varying proofs before they found their seats.
        “Now hear this, everyone. We have five targets to secure: Marecago, the Marejave desert, Trottingham, Neighagra, and the Unicorn Range. We will only have three teams for this fight. Pizza, Footfall, you two are with me: we're going to Marecago. Afterwards, we''ll follow in Lockheart's hoofsteps before we head over to Solace's team.”
        Lockheart stepped forward, “My team will consist of Fencing and Starfire. We'll engage hostiles from the skies. We should be able to get assistance from the EAF for our assault; I still have a few favors with those boys I can call in. Our targets are the snipers in the Unicorn Range, then the occupying forces in Neighagra. Once Joe rendezvous with us, we'll move into the Marejave.”
        Solace stepped forward, “I'll take everypony else straight into the Marejave. We'll clear out the Zebras threatening to move into Las Pegasus, link up with any local forces, and then move on to Trottingham. The Marines with the 3rd fleet should be able to help us take the city. Once that's done, we can all head home.”
        I wrapped this up, “The name of the game is Operation: Trident. It'll launch in three days, rest up and get ready until then. Any questions?”
        “What's the estimated opposition, sir?” Fencing asked.
        “Heavy, though I wouldn't expect as tough as Stalliongrad. Your primary objective will have a lot of snipers so keep moving. Your secondary objective is on the edge of a giant waterfall, so any airborne forces should have that as an advantage. Use it, and you're in the pink.”
        “And what about my AO, sir?” asked Footfall.
        “Stealth is the name of the game. It'll be crawling with hostiles, but the MoM should provide a good diversion for us. If it all goes smoothly, not a shot will be fired. But remember: it almost never goes smoothly. Pack plenty of weapons and armor, we'll find a dead drop to leave it while we infiltrate. We also have a functioning Zebra Stealth Cloak in our inventory from those bastards who ambushed us at our front door. It'll be dangerous, but doable.”
        “What about the Marejave?” Lyra asked.
        “Hot. Dry. And with a sense of danger in the air. Las Pegasus will be putting on one heck of a light show, so it should be easy to find. I would engage targets at range with sniper fire in broad daylight. Daylight will have you see right, and shoot straight. The day will also do the same for your enemy. I'd pack a shovel and dig a trench line. Target strategic points until the Zebras are weak enough to assail. Afterwards, send a messenger to the 3rd fleet, you'll need them in the final assault.”
        That seemed to be the last of the questions. It looked like we knew everything we'd need to get done. Now to just hope we'd get it done well. “No more questions? Dismissed,” I ended.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

        “Lieutenant? Can you hear me? Wake up.”
        “Wh- what is it Doctor?”
        “The Admiral doesn’t believe you. I overheard him calling up a firing squad.”
        “What? Why? I thought most of my story checked out?”
        “He doesn’t think so. The rest of the Admiralty green-lit his decision. The squad’s waiting for you at Sol. Let’s get these restraints off, and you out of here.”
        “Wait, why are you doing this?”
        “Because I believe you, and I’d like to see this world which you’ve described.”
        “That world is very different now than what it was way back then. If you want to see it, I’ll need my gear, and my bird.”
        “Right this way, Lieutenant.”

> Ch 12 Pentathlon
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


        Pizza, Footfall and I were just outside the Marecago clock tower, Spectacles was speeding off with the Pelican and the rest of Crimson. Pizza and I were equipped for CQC: Shotguns and twin SMG secondaries. We both had Active Camouflage, AA Efficiency and Ammo armor tuning.
        We peeked around the corner of the bank I once robbed. Two guards were outside, but the door was ajar. I could see shapes moving back and forth inside. “Every second counts,” I told Footfall and Pizza, “Let's make this quick. Remember: do not fire unless if fired upon; these are Equestrians here.”
        “Copy that,” Pizza said, Footfall nodding in sync.
        I needed a plan of attack. I could try and cloak to bypass the guards, leaving Footfall on perimeter detail. Only problem with that is that we can't stay cloaked forever, and we'd be surrounded. Alternatively, we could just climb up the façade of the clock tower and assault from the top down. Again, we'd be effectively surrounded, but at least we'd have the high ground.
        “Joe, can I take point on this one?” Footfall asked.
        “If you think you can handle it, go right ahead. Fill us in on your plan of attack,” I said.
        “I think that we should handle it almost like a raid. If we can't fire until they shoot at us, then we'll just convince them to shoot first. Joe, since you've got the armor, I think you should march right up in front of them and belt out some insults to Al Capony. They should then engage you, and we'll back you up when they do. That sound good?”
        “Sounds pretty good to me. Pizza, as soon as you see them draw, open fire. Stay close to me, but remain cloaked.”
        Pizza nodded and I stood up. I worked the pump on my shotgun, watching an 8 gauge magnum round slide into the chamber. I had it loaded with standard buckshot, which should be devastating to Capony's thugs. I walked out from around the corner, staring the guards eye-to-eye.
        “Capony is a sack of shit that's a disgrace to all other sacks of shit. A celebratory holiday will be the day he dies, either that or the day he bathes,” I said.
        “You watch what you say about Capony, bad things happen to those who speak ill of 'im,” the first guard sounded, and looked, like he had a mouth full of chewing tobacco.
        “Oh, I have chosen my words carefully, you pathetic excuse of a pony. I know for a fact that if Al Capony was half the man you claim he is, he'd come down here and talk to me face to face. Right now it looks like he's too yellow-bellied to put on his big-boy pants and be a man. There is no honor hiding behind a security detail, and it shows well on Capony.”
        Guard #2 seemed to take great offense to this, “And why should he be wasting his time with the likes of you? You don't look like much and smell like even less.”
        “You tell Capony I have his son. See if he'll come down and talk to me then.”
        “Bullshit you do. Now leave, or else things will have to get messy.”
        “I ain't going nowhere...”
        We locked gazes, not even flinching. Guard #2 was statuesque, as was I. Guard #1 not so much. He raised a pistol, only for Pizza to plant a knife in his throat, decloaking in the process. Guard #2 tried to raise his pistol, but my shotgun took his head clean off. I could hear more guards shuffling about inside the tower.
        “Secure the area,” I radioed to the team. I took my position at the front door, opposite Pizza. I could hear some weapons having their actions worked. I lifted a frag grenade, motioning for Pizza to do the same. Footfall was nowhere to be seen, probably getting ready to hunt down any escapees.
        One thug came rushing out, Pizza clotheslined him, crushing the guard's larynx. I tossed my frag inside the building. Pizza quickly dispatched the choking thug with a curb-stomp, then tossed his frag inside. When the second explosion sounded, we cloaked and moved in. I swapped over to my pair of SMGs. The thugs had defensive positions already set up, and we needed to get past them.
        There was still some dust settling from the grenades, providing us a good smoke screen. We maneuvered around behind the the enemy positions, engaging them with our SMGs and knives. They didn't put up much of a fight. By the time the camo ran out, the room was cleared. We hung around for a bit letting our camo recharge. So much for minimizing body count.
        I looked around, not having found Capony anywhere on the first floor. I spotted some stairs going upward. “Onward and upward, Pizza,” I tagged the staircase with an objective marker. We made our way topside.
        The second floor was also an ambush, just this time with hostile fortifications in more of a crescent shape, focused on the stairs Pizza and I had taken. We cloaked and snuck behind them easily enough. Our SMGs turned them to chum. By the time they realized what was happening, we had already cut most of them down. Only one got away.
        “I thought you had that one, Joe.”
        “Pizza, he was clearly on your side of the room. Besides, any kill is a fair kill. He's probably warning Capony about us. We might have to rethink our attack plan.”
        “Joe, I don't think pulling another Stalliongrad is a good idea. The building could collapse on any number of civvies.”
        “What about the floor, then?”
        We both looked up, seeing several red dots moving around on our motion sensor. “Well, it is just timber...” We unloaded 5mm caseless rounds into the ceiling above us. Eventually blasting a sufficiently sized hole for one of us to slip through.
        “Pizza, you're going up. I'll take the scenic route,” I lifted Pizza onto the third floor, then raced up the stairs after the guard that fled moments before. Judging from the sounds and screams, Pizza had to swap out for his shotgun. When I made it up, there was five corpses surrounding the Spartan.
        “No worries,” he said, clenching his knife in his left hand and shotgun in the right, “My armor cleans up rather well. Capony made it up to the fourth floor. If there are any hostiles left, they'll be with him now.”
        “Let's grab this fuck and get back to the rest of Crimson.” With a flick of the wrist, I ejected the spent mags of my SMGs. I loaded a pair of fresh mags before I placed them on the back magnetic holster. I grabbed my shotgun, then nodded to Pizza.
        He walked up to the stairs, myself following closely behind. We had our guns at the ready. Pizza's head peeked over the top of the stairs. Then I saw him relax. “What's going on?” I whispered to him.
        “Area clear.”
        “What?” I moved up to the top of the stairs, both of us entering the top floor. I looked around. Motion sensor gave an all clear. Knowing it could be fooled with lack of motion, I decided to try something different.
        I threw my voice into the ultra-falsetto I discovered I had back in Stalliongrad, letting out a high-pitch chirp. Pizza didn't notice it, confirming my suspicions that the sound is beyond normal hearing. That chirp turned the room into a map for me. I could see... well, feel... where the sound waves ricocheted throughout the room. I could even see the earth pony sitting atop the clockwork above us.
        I was raising my shotgun when I noticed something else... “Contacts, left and right!” I called out, motioning Pizza to fall back. I had counted at least twenty. Gunfire ripped overhead as my motion sensor came to life. We were back at the stairs, Pizza doing what work he could with his shotgun.
        “Goddamn featherbrains, trying to ambush Spartans!” he yelled at the ambushing pegasi.
        He stood up and ran out from cover. “Pizza, fallback! We'll whittle away at their defenses then push,” I radioed to him.
        “No, sir. I have eyes on Al Capony and am going for the grab. Keep me covered.”
        I hate when he gets like this. I charged out of cover, backing him up as best I could. Pegasi were flying all about the room, their harassing fire knocking out my shields bit by bit. Whenever I tried to target one, he would fly behind some of the clock mechanisms. My shield eventually gave out under their combined fire.
        When I looked up, I saw that Pizza had climbed atop the same clockwork I saw (or rather felt) a pony sitting on earlier. He was holding up an old shield of sorts, deflecting Pizza's 8 gauge assault. When Pizza's shotgun ran dry, he charged the pony.
        That pony (presumably Al Capony) turned tail and ran faster than I've ever seen a pony run before. He drew a sidearm and shot at the back of the clock tower's face. The glass burst outward as the pony made a leap of faith. Pizza followed without hesitation.
        My shotgun fell silent as the last hostile pegasus breathed their last. My armor's plates were dinged up pretty badly, but nothing penetrated the gel layer. I scrambled atop the clockwork and up to the face of the clock. I stared out at the town, then looked down at the glass shards below. Pizza and that pony were gone. I looked around for his IFF tag.
        I saw his tag floating through the city. “Pizza, SitRep,” I radioed.
        “Engaging hostile griffin, can use some help.”
        “En route.”
        What were griffins doing aiding Capony? I filed that away in my noggin before I loaded some slugs into my shotgun. I went prone in the broken glass that didn't fall outside during the scuffle. I aimed my shotgun out the hole, tracking Pizza's tag. It finally surfaced above some buildings.
        The griffin was in black combat armor with a white emblem on it. The pony was in the griffin's grasp. Pizza was dangling off of one of the griffin's hind paws, knife in his right hand. I tried taking aim at the griffin. I mentally ran through the ballistics in my head, aiming for the griffin's center of mass.
        I added in the target lead, then I waited for a clear shot. BOOM! I saw the griffin twitch then fall out of the sky. I needed to get to the crash site and make sure Pizza was okay.

        I found Pizza standing over the griffin, the pony (who was indeed Al Capony) was tied up on the side. Capony wasn't talking. The Marecago Police had already labeled this area a crime scene and were setting up the yellow tape. Got to hand it to them, their response time was fast.
        Al Capony had a broken leg from the fall, the griffin a broken neck. I walked over to the dead bird's corpse. I looked at the combat armor. The white emblem was that of a griffin's claw. I checked the ballistic plate. It was completely shattered from the slug, but it had caught the round. Impressive body armor, I'd say. Too bad it couldn't stop internal damage.
        I searched through the body, trying to figure out who this was or who sent him. Griffin's aren't too common in Equestria, judging by past experiences. This was the first one I'd encountered. In one of the mag pouches I found a note.

        Talon Company Contract #10352
        Pay (total): 5000 Bits (50% as down payment)
        This contract is to be held in the protection of Al Capony and the interdiction of any known, immediate threats to the aforementioned individual, party, or parties for the duration of one month of honorable service.
        The execution of this contact is the responsibility of Grox, a Talon mercenary with expertise spanning 14 years within Talon Company. Any failure of this contract by the fault of the assigned mercenary(s). The company thereafter shall render the contact to be refunded in full.
        We thank you for your business.
        Grimshaw,
        Commandant of Talon

        Apparently Al Capony had enlisted some foreign aid in his defense. This “Talon Company” is something I need to look into. If mercs have contracts up for the highest bidder to take, best to make sure the Zebras don't hear about it. I didn't find anything else on the griffin aside from some doohickeys that resembled D batteries, just with a positive and negative lead on the same end, like a 9 volt. I found them in his ammo pouches, curiously enough.
        “Footfall, come over to our position. Spectacles, we are ready for evac, the HVI is secured,” I radioed. I walked over to Pizza, “What do you think these things are?” I held up the battery things.
        “No idea, but it looks like it belongs on this,” he held up a strange, long, box-like contraption, “the griffin had it.” It had a perforated strut connecting at a shallow angle to the rest of the device. I saw one of the batteries mounted onto the side at an angle. Next to it I saw the label, “Flash Industries AER-1 Prototype”, followed by a very low serial number.
        “AER-1? What do you think that stands for?” I asked.
        “Anemic Enraged Rottweiler?”
        Seeing as I found the same battery things in the griffin's ammo pouches, I had one good guess. “Advance Energy Rifle, perhaps? Seems to fit. Can I see it?” He handed over the device. It had some heft to it, more so than most UNSC weapons, but less than Covenant ones. Once it was in my grasp, I noticed a small slide directly under the battery. I pulled it back, and the battery ejected out like a spent shell. I checked my HUD for additional intel, and it merely said “Foreign Hardware Detected”. Not much help there...
        I noticed the slide had also locked back. I pulled out a new battery and slotted it in. The slide promptly went forward again, this time followed by a quiet, high-pitched whine. “Pizza, I think we should take this back to Spectacles. He should know more about this than us.”
        “Agreed, and speaking of which...” He pointed towards the horizon. The Pelican was coming in over the water. Footfall had rejoined us as well, my motion sensor being the only hint he was among us.
        “Footfall, you feel like going to another battle? Canterlot is en route, it won't be much of a delay to drop you off,” I said.
        “I think I'd like to stay with you. I hardly saw any action here.”
        “Fair enough, climb aboard.”
        When Spectacles arrived, we clambered aboard. Pizza and I started changing our loadouts.

        ARs, Silenced SMGs, Promethean Grenades, and Jet Packs. Things were going to be awesome. I racked the slide on my AR as the Pelican descended. Footfall had a battle saddle with twin Equestrian ARs mounted to it. Spectacles had the box-like AER-1. We were approaching Neighagra.
        “Spectacles, take Footfall to friendlier lines. This is our stop here. Footfall, see what our forces need and get it to them,” I said as the back hatch opened, revealing the river-bound city below. Zebra forces were everywhere, and it looked like more than a few were in the skies with weird bat-like wings. Guess there always has to be a game-changer.
        The Wonderbolts were contesting these hostile skies, and it looked like we would be joining them. “Pizza, let's mow down those Zebras!”
        “Aye, sir!”
        We jumped out of the back hatch, dropping down the hundred feet into the city streets, igniting our Jet Packs just before touchdown. The Pelican raced off to the southwest, towards Cloudsdale. “COL Lockheart, are you on this channel?”
        “I'm listening, Joe.”
        “We are in the city, but we need to know where you need us. Care to point us the right way?”
        “We've got hostiles on the city's bridges. If we lose those, we won't be able to get our ground forces across.”
        “Ground forces? I thought it was just pegasi here.”
        “We had a platoon of Zebras defect, they're fighting for us now. Call themselves 'Proditors', whatever that means... They're marked with red stripes instead of black. We also called the local EHG soldiers for backup, they’re en route.”
        “Alright, Colonel, we'll move in on those bridges. Spectacles, care to fly over and mark our objectives?”
        “On it, Joe. Just dropped off Footfall.”
        The Pelican passed overhead, then three 'Defend' objective markers appeared on my HUD. Pizza nodded, confirming the same. We headed through the streets, our motion sensors alive with red and yellow dots (mostly above us). The tallest building here was two stories high. I activated my Jet Pack, Pizza following me onto the rooftops.
        “Joe, they've got a lot of AA fire, I've got to pull out!” Spectacles radioed.
        “Copy that, Spectacles. Mark those guns, we'll silence them.”
        More targets, marked 'Neutralize', appeared on our HUDs.
        In the skies the Wonderbolts and several EAF fighters were engaging these wing-augmented Zebras. I saw the black puffs of AA fire in the air. The Zebras occasionally tried to strafe us, but we returned their fire, the Wonderbolts hot on the Zebras' tails.
        We crossed a few blocks before we found a street leading up to our first bridge. The group of defectors was trying to fight across to the other side, but the Zebras had heavy guns dug in. They weren't giving an inch, but the defectors weren't letting them gain any more ground.
        “Pizza, toss your grenades into the MG nests. Then, advance onto the next bridge. I'll work with the defectors here. Lockheart, send a group of pegasi Pizza's way.”
        “Forces en route, Joe.”
        Pizza threw his Promethean Grenades over the bridge, one falling short, the other being spot-on. The Zebras scattered out of the ionization field before much damage could be done. The defectors retired them before they could get back to cover. Pizza lit up his Jet Pack and progressed further across the city to the northeast. That left me with the defectors.
        I got behind a low masonry wall next to three of the Proditors. The operable MG nest was spitting hot lead overhead. Apparently they didn't know to chip away at the masonry to make a hole. “Who's in charge here?” I yelled at one of the defectors.
        “That would be me, warrior,” the one directly in front of me said. Guess I knew where the officer's cover was.
        “Does anyone here have smoke grenades?”
        “No, warrior.”
        “Shit... then get behind me and stay close.” My AR still read 32 rounds loaded. I tossed a grenade over the masonry guard rail. Then I charged outward, AR level. The MG tore into my armor, my shields flaring brightly. I fired every round I had in short, controlled bursts. The defectors joined in, making short work of the gunner. Silent went MG number 2.
        I swapped weapons and jumped over the MG nest's sandbags, the defectors racing to catch up with me. There was still a couple Zebras in the nest, trying to get the MG back online. I fired the whisper-quiet 5mm rounds into one of the Zebras, the other tried for a vicious right hook.
        I ducked under the blow. Spinning, I then tried for a mule kick against the Zebra. Unfortunately, the Zebra tried the same, and our attacks struck one another, doing nil. I continued my rotation, but then the Zebra adjusted his forehooves and kicked with his opposite leg, disarming me. I grabbed the Zebra's leg before he could retract it, and pulled hard.
        The Zebra sprawled across the ground, then he spun around, nailing the side of my head with his other hind hoof. I rolled with the attack to minimize damage, drawing my knife as he slipped from my grasp. He lunged at me before I could bring it to bear. I brought up my left forearm to negate his strikes, but his lunge brought me to the ground.
        I rolled backwards, kicking him over me. He stuck the landing, and I continued through the roll onto my feet. I turned around and stared him down, knife in my right hand. I charged at him this time, and he sidestepped, planting his forehooves just as he did for the mule kick. I activated my Jet Pack, carrying me skywards, outside his striking range. Then, I threw the knife at him.
        Remember when I mentioned how a Zebra's physique is more comparable to a Spartan's than a pony's? Well, this Zebra was no exception. He caught my knife as it spun through the air, gripping it firmly in his jaw. I noticed the defectors had formed a circle around us.
        I dropped back down onto the battlefield, and held up both fists in a boxing stance. He seemed to be looking me over, probably trying find an exploit to my pose. I didn't give him the chance, charging at him again. He let me try for a grapple before he jumped to the side.
        He tried to bring the knife down on me, but I redirected his attack past me with my left hand. With my right, I formed a two-finger spike and drove it into his neck, roughly at where the spinal cord would be. I watched his legs give out underneath him. I yanked my knife free from his grip, then withdrew my fingers from his flesh.
        I looked at the downed Zebra for a moment, then I crushed his skull beneath my contoured boot. He wouldn't be fighting again. I looked around at the defectors around me. Some bore impressions of awe, others seemed impressed by my work.
        “Why the hell didn't you help out?” I asked the group, making sure to retrieve and reload my weapons in the meantime.
        “We had no right. You fought him and bested him in the ring of honor. Hoof-to-hoof combat is very much a ritual to prove one's authority amongst the Zebras. You have done well, fellow warrior. We will follow your command, unquestioningly,” the lead defector said.
        “Okay, then. Since we're on the Zebra side of the river, let's push northeast and see if we can flank them at Pizza's locale,” I racked the slide of my AR, chambering a new round, then march in the indicated direction. The defectors formed up behind me.
        It was several more blocks of target-rich environment before we found the next bridge, the Zebra warriors eating up a lot of my ammo. I only had about a mag and a half left for each gun (50 rounds AR, 90 rounds SMG). The defectors, on the other hand, proved their worth in the fighting (especially the CQC) all the way along the road. I noticed a 'Neutralize' target was just a couple blocks from this bridge. Pizza's IFF tag was behind cover on the far side.
        He popped his head up, fired a couple bursts, then ducked down when his shields got low. I didn't see any pegasi in the nearby skies. The only Pegasi I saw were slumped over on the ground... in pieces. That AA gun must be the problem, but the bridge is the priority target.
        “Pizza, keep up the pressure,” I radioed.
        “What do you think I've been doing? Jerking off?” Pizza responded. Typical Pizza.
        The Zebras had dug in at this bridge just like at mine. I slung my AR across my back and readied my knife. I crept up to a row of sandbags. I looked over to the defector commander and motioned his platoon to move up to the other gun. Pizza's fire was passing right overhead. I waited for the gunner to start a burst before I made my move. Assassination! That gunner's first and last warning was my knife plunging into his throat.
        As his blood trickled down onto his now-silent gun, I saw the defectors emerge from the other nest. “Pizza, what happened to the forces sent your way?”
        “Triple A took them right outta the sky. I don't think any of them survived.”
        “Proditors, on me. Pizza, we're taking that triple A offline.”
        “Copy that, Joe.” We advanced further down the street, heading northwest. “Hey, Joe, you got a mag?”
        “Only half and the one loaded,” I handed him my last AR mag, it's eighteen rounds being all-too light.
        “Then that makes two between us,” he grabbed it and loaded the rounds into his current mag, then slammed it home into the receiver.
        “We're gonna need a resupply soon,” I said.
        “Too bad we don't have Dalton.”
        “Well said.” We could hear the sounds of the AA gun just around the corner. We stacked up against the corner shop, waiting to charge. “Lockheart, the two southwestern-most bridges have been secured. Be advised: hostile AA is in close proximity to bridge number two. We're gonna make a push for it.”
        “Understood, Joe. Our forces are proceeding on hoof through the rest of the city. The Wonderbolts are still contesting the skies, keeping the airborne Zebras out of our manes.”
        I peeked around the corner, seeing a crew of six manning the gun. There were two gunners, one had the elevation and traverse controls under his command. The other held a lanyard to fire the artillery. They had two ferrying ammo to two more who were loading it into the gun's two magazines. It looked like a dual mount.
        I tightened my grip on my AR. I held up three fingers for the team to see. Then I dropped one. Then another. When I hit zero, I charged around the corner, firing on the gunners, Pizza doing the same. The defectors engaged the rest of the crew. It was over in all of five seconds. The defectors began fiddling with the ammo cache the Zebras had.
        “What are you doing?” I asked their leader.
        “Destroying this gun, before it can harm any more of your pegasi.”
        “Hold off on that for a second, soldier, I think I have an idea... Joe to Lockheart, get all pegasi dirtside now.”
        “The order's out, but those airborne Zebra's aren't gonna make it any easier on us, don't you think?”
        “I've got it handled, Lockheart. Defectors: you're on ammo detail. Pizza, grab that lanyard; you're gonna be firing this thing. I'll deal with the aiming part.”
        I sat down in the gunner's seat. The controls were rather simple: the horizontal wheel controls the horizontal aim, the vertical wheel controls the vertical aim. Each wheel had a handle jutting out of it for easier use with hooves, which made it very easy for use with hands. I peered into the gunsight and started looking for targets.
        “Hostile spotted, 600 feet. Load rounds,” good thing Mjolnir's binoculars have a built-in rangefinder. I heard the defectors click the delay fuses into the correct position before handing it over to be loaded. I tracked the target as best I could. As soon as the rounds dropped in, I ordered Pizza to fire.
        The black puff consumed the Zebra, who promptly fell from the sky, in multiple pieces.

        We had remained there for some time, until we only had a few shells left. We rigged those to destroy the gun. Most of the aerial Zebras had been shot down, and when the Wonderbolts took to the skies again, they were rapidly gaining aerial dominance. We just had to take the last bridge, but something told me the Zebras knew we had commandeered their toy.
        I only had a dozen rounds left in my AR. My SMG was doing better ammo-wise, but it's 5mm rounds were lightweights compared to the ARs ammunition. For some reason, none of these Zebras seemed to be armed, aside from the defectors (who had commandeered Equestrian rifles).
        We had abandoned the gun and advanced further along the road heading northeast. The Wonderbolts weren't seeing anything from above, so I expected more indoors fighting up ahead.
        By the time we got to the last bridge, all was quiet. Lockheart was there, and more than a few of the pegasi were greeting the defectors with vulgarities and hostilities. Spitfire had to come in to calm them down. I was surprised to see her again.
        “Long time no see, huh, Spitfire?”
        She seemed at a loss for words to see me again.
        “I don't think I introduced myself last time we met. I'm Lieutenant Joe of the UNSC, serving alongside Equestrian forces as an acting Captain in the Navy. This here is Pizza, he's like a brother to me. We've been serving together for some time now.”
        “Joe... When I heard a Special Forces outfit would be coming to help, I didn't expect it to be you.”
        “And that's why it is me: entirely unexpected. Now, make sure your Wonderbolts don't shoot up the defectors, they've proven themselves in combat. I trust them to a degree, and we are on the same side here. It isn't like with those pirates before.”
        “Yeah, some of the boys are still sore at you for what you did back there, and now you come marching up with a platoon of the enemy... I wouldn't be surprised if you got fratted here.”
        “The defectors are no enemy, and neither am I. If you have men who have something against me, then get them out here, front and center now.”
        “Can't we wait until the battle is over?”
        “Depends on how sore they are...”
        “It can wait.”
        “Alright, then. Proditors, what happened to the Zebra presence in the city? We didn't encounter any en route to this last bridge, and the other AA guns have fallen silent.”
        “The only way they would abandon a fight would be if they were ordered to,” the defector commander said.
        “Ordered to, by who?”
        “In all likelihood, Centurion Pravus. Either him or the Legate.”
        Spitfire seemed a bit intrigued, “A Centurion? Here?”
        “Yes, we did defect from his command prior to your liberation of the Unicorn Range.”
        I spoke up, “Then who's the Legate? This is the first I've heard of him.”
        “You speak of Legate Fortis. The Fist of Caesar. He is a menace not to be trifled with. He would sooner kill a full legion of his own men than allow Equestrian forces into any Zebra city, no matter how small.”
        “So I take it he wouldn't order a retreat?”
        “That is correct.”
        “Alright, Spitfire, it seems we've had a Centurion in our AO. I'd suggest your forces stay put here as I rendezvous with the rest of Crimson out west. Once Trottingham is ours again, we can send for reinforcements. Spectacles, can you give us recon of this city?”
        “Inbound, Joe, sit tight.”
        “Now, about those men of yours...”
        “About that... it was mostly myself and Soarin holding that grudge. We lost a lot of good friends back there, all by your hands.”
        I let out a low sigh, “I know what it's like to lose friends in war. This great individual who has a precious place in your heart gets ripped from it, leaving a gaping hole that can never truly heal. It leaves scars behind. But that pain of loss... it means they mattered to you, that you loved them. And it will never go away.”
        Pizza stepped in, “We truly did not know any better than to act when you swooped in from above. They died believing that their sacrifice would save those hostages... and those hostages were saved. After that fight, Joe and I sought more knowledge about Equestria, and have since been fighting for it. If it wasn't for their sacrifice, we probably wouldn't be fighting here, or even back at Stalliongrad. Their sacrifice was not in vain, Spitfire. Not many can so willingly pay such a high price.”
        I finished, “If more people were willing to give as much, the world wouldn't be in a state of war right now. I do regret my course of action back there, I didn't know better, and many died because of my negligence. I take full blame for their deaths, and I'll carry their loss with the intent to find some way to redeem them.”
        Spitfire looked crestfallen, and I felt the same way. Good thing my visor was polarized. “You don't even know their names...”
        “I don't need to. A name doesn't say much about a person. Their actions speak volumes. I know that they were great men, some of the best. That impression will last longer than the name. History is funny like that.”
        Spectacles interrupted, “Joe, it looks like the city is clear of all hostiles. I'm coming in to pick you up.”
        “Looks like our ride is here, Spitfire. See you in Hell,” I gave her a casual salute as I turned and walked into the middle of the bridge. The Pelican dropped down and Crimson climbed aboard. I waved the defectors to join us. “Take us to Canterlot, Spectacles, we need to introduce the princesses to our new friends.”

        The ride over gave me time to think. A lot was going on right now in the war. Crimson is still leading a five-front counter-assault, with notable success. The Wonderbolts had linked up with the Crimson team in the Unicorn Range, secured the area and pressed onward, securing Neighagra. The only problem was a Centurion was there, Pravus, according to the defector Proditors.
        Now why would a Centurion retreat from the battle? Was he avoiding his forces getting wiped? Or did he accomplish his objective? The Zebra's I fought there were easy enough to defeat, not on par with the crew of the Caesar that sank the HMS Harmony. I doubt they were a main force. The Centurion lead a notable force, indicating he (if he is a he) paralleled the rank of Colonel or a Navy Captain, similar to the (presumed) captain of the Caesar.
        Now that begs the question, why the retreat? He had superior forces, he had a solid foothold. So why pull out when half the city was contested and the other half under his control? The only thing that came to mind was that the city was not the objective, and that they had already finished their mission, much like us. But what was their mission?
        If Equestria had intelligence assets embedded within the Zebra ranks, it'd solve a lot of this questioning that's plaguing my mind. Additionally, a whole platoon of the Centurion's forces had defected on the battlefield, and completely changed their attire to distinguish themselves moments before... These defectors might have some valuable things to tell Equestria, or they could be trying to plant false intelligence or utilize reverse interrogation against us. Are they the Centurion's mission?
        Possibly, but the defectors did aid in eliminating that AA gun, with deadly accuracy too. The best course of action would be to not trust the defectors for operational intel, but on the battlefield their knowledge may come in handy. Keep them away from our playbook, but keep an ear open for their wordings.
        Another matter was the Wonderbolts. Crimson's first engagement was an island with Zebra pirates holding Equestrian citizens hostage. We were sent to rescue the hostages, largely because we, at the time, couldn't be linked back to Equestria. But then again, that is also why the Wonderbolts went there too; they would either have an alibi that checked out or be listed AWOL (or rogue). Regardless, two solutions were sent out on a problem that only needed one. We killed each other because of it.
        Neither of us knew the other was there to help, and assumed one another hostile. In the end, it turns out we were both trying to rescue hostages. But why did they shoot first? The element of surprise? Xenophobia (we were a huge unknown at the time, after all)? They rushed their attack. They killed a hostage while trying to kill us. But were they in the wrong? No, I'd say. Given what they knew, they acted towards the greatest peace possible. Their only fault was they didn't know enough.        
        So how does that compare to the Centurion? I only know he retreated from the city and had a platoon defect. The Wonderbolts only knew that we were unknowns at a known pirate base, and had the civilians with us. I really can't say that the Centurion is innately evil, nor can I claim him good. Pravus... his name shares a root with depravity... Can't be good, but names are deceiving. Joe means “average” nine times out of ten. Guess I must be the tenth, given me being a Spartan and all.
        Thinking on a scale way above my pay grade, how does this level with the grand scheme of things? Centurion to Zebra... Crimson to Equestria... or would the Zebras be better represented by the Wonderbolts at the island? If so, we are both fighting towards a better end, but are killing a powerful ally over it. We really need Zebra intelligence assets, if that is the case. This whole war might turn out to be a great big misunderstanding. Come to think of it, many wars are... Guess you can't win them all.
        Canterlot was approaching on the horizon, and these defectors would need to be debriefed by Equestrian command, although it seems the command they acknowledge is mine. CQC also has some form of deep cultural significance to them. Is it a challenge of mettle? If so, mine was proven greater than that Zebra's, possibly asserting my own strength over the defectors. I guess they pride themselves on powerful leaders. One is not simply given the name “Fist of Caesar”.
        The Legate would also be a powerful contender in the coming battles, I could feel it in my bones, smell it in the air... a storm was coming. A big one. I have a feeling this Legate is at the heart of it, where its destruction cannot reach. Legate Fortis, if what the defectors said of him is true, would be difficult to eliminate. Good thing I knew the Arbiter, former “Will of the Prophets”.
        While I studied on Sanghelios, prior to heading to Requiem, the Arbiter taught me much about codes of honor and martial discipline... as well as how to fight it. Between the tutelage of the Arbiter, Thel 'Vadam, and the Shipmaster, Rtas 'Vadum, I learned much about warrior races and their codes of honor. From my impromptu autopsy of that Zebra infiltrator, it is within reason to assume the Zebra's to be a warrior race, and with that, a possible code of honor amongst them. I'll need to study up on Zebra culture some more after Trottingham, and cross-reference the information with the defectors.
        The Pelican was coming in for landing. I'll swing by the Princesses, then grab a Mongoose and rearm at the Whitetail HQ. I nodded for Pizza to get ready. “Team, take a break and rest up while you can. It won't be long before we're headed back out into the wild country. Spectacles, make sure to examine that rifle when you get the time to. Defectors, you're with me. The same goes for you, Pizza, we've got to rearm.”
        We all stood up as the Pelican set down.

        The guards had panicked greatly when the defectors hopped out... guess we should've called it in, huh? Eventually, I managed to contact the Night Guard and the situation was settled without incident. The Ministry of Morale apparently had jurisdiction over any defectors. I escorted them to the shiny new hub building in Canterlot. The Ministry hubs seemed to spring up overnight.
        I left the defectors with a group of MoM officers and told them to follow their orders. Gazing out to the horizon I saw that the sun only had a couple hours left before it set completely. I still needed to inform the Princesses of my insight to the situation. I looked over to the Pelican. We had apparently emptied out its weapon crates in the last couple deployments, having left most of the gear at the Whitetail HQ.
        Shotguns won't be handy on the desert plains of the Marejave, but they would be great inside Trottingham. Too bad the Marejave was the only way to Trottingham by land, with sea being too dangerous a route without ample diversions. I would need a versatile weapon, like the BR for this upcoming bout.

        Luna said she'd take note of the situation, and Pizza was riding on the back seat of the Mongoose. The Whitetail forest was coming into view, and I slowed down a tad to avoid crashing into everything. We were passing through the old LZ. The Whitetail LZ was washed out by the passage of time and the ensuing rainfall, but I could still discern bits of brass sticking out of the mud from when Pizza almost committed fratricide on me. Nearby would be the hatch to the Whitetail HQ.
        The HQ still didn't have power, but in its current state, it was probably best to leave it off the grid. We were heading over to the armory, getting ready to grab some better urban and desert gear. What Pizza had to say hit me like a flying mallet.
        “Joe... We've got a problem here.”
        “What is it?”
        “The Battle Rifle ammo... It's gone, or at least most of it. I don't think we loaded enough to fight a war, just enough for lots of hunting. With how much we've burned up against the Zebras and Mafia, nothing's left.”
        “Dammit... The BR uses a classified propellant as well, to get the kind of velocities it has. Do we have the formula on record, so that we can reload?” I moved next to the supply crate that had our excess ammo in it.
        “Negative, Joe. That stuff is still all black ink, and I couldn't get authorization to read it, being an ensign and all. Though, we might be able to reload some TTR rounds, but we'd need the bullets for the ammo.”
        “Guess we'll just have to make due without. Any other munitions that we're low on?”
        “Just grenades, but I think the MWT is turning out some frags on par with the M9. Plasma and Pulse grenades we'll have to be stingy with. What weapons should we bring to the Marejave? I don't think the Zebras will let us rearm between there and Trottingham.”
        “While we figure that out, try this on. Lyra got us a pair of dusters,” I tossed over the duster that a certain mint-colored unicorn gave us.
        Pizza donned it with ease, “Fits like a glove! I think we'd be the first duster-clad Spartans to enter a theater of war.”
        “Back to the mission at hand... Urban sniping has always been fun, and the desert will make it a cakewalk at range. I'll take the SRS99-S5 AM rifle and an M7S. The Thruster Pack should help when going from rooftop to rooftop. How about you?”
        “Might as well bring some more rockets, we've got plenty of those.” We planned on using the Rocket Launcher to pass the time when things got boring (as lengthy deployments always get), so we packed plenty of ammo for it... good thing, too. “I'll also grab my DMR, should get plenty of use out of it. My Hardlight Shield hasn't done me wrong thus far, either.”
        “How long have you had that DMR, Pizza? I got my BR at Requiem, but as I recall, you've had your rifle for much longer.”
        “Joe, I'm surprised I haven't told you it's story yet.”
        “And you're going to tell me now?”
        “Not now... maybe in the desert, maybe a little longer. You'd really like the story... Might even tell you the classified stuff.”
        “Does this have to do with how you got off Reach?”
        “Yeah, and a few other things. Helluva fight, too.”
        “Any spoilers?” I grabbed a few more mags than I should ever possibly need for my M7S, leaving behind a few mags for the Sniper Rifle.
        “It's why I'm a Spartan.”
        “Since you're not gonna tell me your secret, here's another one for you: we recruited a Zebra spy.”
        “What?”
        “Those infiltrators that ambushed us outside the HQ? They mentioned the codename 'Chuck Finley', the name we gave that CPD leak. Now I'm thinking it wasn't even CPD to begin with, but possibly EAF or some other branch. Bottom line is: there's a spy in our fireteam and I don't know who it is. Once we wrap up the goings on in the Marejave and Trottingham, I think we should confront the princesses about this. Do not tell another soul until then, Pizza.”
        “I didn't expect a spook would catch our eye is all.”
        “They did more than just that, Pizza. They were recruited from Luna's list, remember? Whoever it is, they are embedded deep in Equestria's government and military. We're going to have to have them tip their hand and then pounce on them. I think the Night Guard will be a valuable asset here. Just keep an eye open for suspicious activity, and try to monitor any comms you can.”
        “Maybe after we catch the spook, I'll tell you my story.”

        Rewind half a decade to the end of the Human-Covenant War, and from the ashes of the battle, the UNSC started up something known as the “Heroes Never Die” campaign. It was launched to keep morale high and recruitment up... And it worked, maybe a little bit too well.
        Eventually, the top brass decided to launch something called the “Living Monument”, which was plastered all over the galaxy as something tremendous. As time progressed, it turns out the Living Monument was the Spartan-IV program, and everyone and their dog hurriedly signed up for it... myself included (even if it took some urging from Jun).
        Some 5 million people signed up for the program... too much for the UNSC to fund, so they did what was unimaginable: turn down the recruits. After 27 years of war, turning down a recruit seemed impossible. You enlisted, you got a rifle and armor. But this was not a war; we had already won that conflict. This next batch for the Monument would have to be the best.
        And so they looked for the best. That's around when Jun, a former Spartan who participated in the Battle of Reach, talked me into joining the program. The UNSC needed more than just recruits... they were looking for heroes. Although not all of us were in the spotlight, we all did monumental things in selfless acts. Mine was at Arcadia. Apparently, Pizza's was at Reach.
        Eventually, that 5 million was whittled down to just five hundred, myself and Pizza included. We were then assigned to Fireteam Crimson after the christening of the UNSC Infinity. The Infinity would pursue the threat of the Halos, but some Spartan teams would be given more specialized tasks. Fireteam Crimson was one of many such teams. Our next stop was Sanghelios, where we learned all we could of the Elites and their culture, to help us in tracking down Covenant Remnant forces.
        During that time, Pizza kept on talking to a few of the other Spartans, and even a couple Elites, about Reach. Whenever I asked him, he told me it was classified and that I'd have to clear it with Lord Hood to hear any of it. He said he could talk about it with those who were there, and the officers from the debrief, but not another soul. Pizza has never lied to me ever since he evaced me at Miridem. Guess I was finally going to learn how he got off Reach. But first, we had a war to win.

        We returned to find that the defectors were gone, but the rest of Crimson was relaxing by the Pelican. “Team, it's time to hustle!” I yelled out, driving the Mongoose up next to the Pelican. Pizza quickly dismounted the vehicle. I moved up to the cockpit and started spinning up the engines.
        “Spectacles,” I radioed, “We need you to stay behind and provide overwatch from the HQ.”
        “Yes, sir,” Spectacles responded, leaving the troop bay.
        Our flyers weren't going to be wearing the Steel Ranger armor that Spectacles had been developing and improving; they would need to be mobile. The armor wasn't at a full production model neither, so the forces in the Marejave weren't likely to have any of the heavies deployed. Looks like we'd be doing most of the heavy lifting again.
        I heard the back hatch seal, “We're secure, Joe. Ready for takeoff,” Pizza radioed. I eased forward on the throttle until the Pelican was above the rooftops. I aimed it in the general direction of West and punched it.

        “Joe,” Spectacles began, “I've been getting reports that the forces in the Marejave area have halted their advances. Something about ghosts and snipers, so I'm suspecting Zebra Infiltrators may be there. What I can't make out are these reports of monsters out there. The reports are few, and are far apart, but I think there might be a truth to the matter.”
        “Can you get the ones who filed those reports to clarify?”
        “Negative, snipers got 'em.”
        “Anything else in the AO?”
        “The defectors say that Legate Fortis was last reported in the Trottingham area. I think we'd all sleep a little easier if you put him down like a sick dog.”
        “I thought Fortis was at Neighagra?”
        “Nope, just Pravus, the Centurion. Although, Legates are known for having a powerful influence far and wide. I'm suspecting some form of telecommunication, I'd suggest jamming, but that didn't work at all at Neighagra. Probably on some other frequency that the Pelican's ECM can't reach.”
        “So priority targets are Fortis and his telecomm device, if there is such a device? Is there anything else I should know?”
        “The Marines are giving him hell, no surprise there, but something has our Marejave forces spooked. The Marines are reporting similar. I'd keep your eyes peeled out there, it might just be the Monster that they're reporting.”
        “Solid copy, Spectacles. Keep feeding us intel whenever you can. We'll be back shortly,” I killed my transmission, switching to the intercom. “Listen up, boys. We're heading into the middle of the desert to fight some ghosts, snipers, and monsters, as the locals have been reporting it. I think we should show them that there is nothing to fear but fear itself. Afterwards, we'll be pushing West through the mountains and into Trottingham proper. The Marines there can handle themselves, but I think they'd appreciate a helping hand. Most of the fighting will be in the desert, and in the city, but I suspect that the mountains may have troops in it. Keep an ear to your radios, and Spectacles will fill us in as the situation develops.”
        Just as I killed the intercom I saw a puff of smoke on the ground. Looking more closely I saw the tracer headed straight for us. I hurled the Pelican sideways, but was a second too slow. The round blasted apart our right, front engine, and we were going down.

        “Joe, wake up! We've got to get the hell out of here!” I heard Pizza yell.
        I opened my eyes and looked around, finding that the pilot's harness was the only thing preventing me from falling. My visor was cracked slightly, along the left side, but it didn't obscure any of the HUD elements. I pressed the quick release on my harness and tried my best to land on my feet.
        The Pelican was down and capsized. Red emergency lights illuminated the troop bay. I grabbed my M7S and made my way towards the back. Starfire had sustained a head injury during our abrupt landing, but it looked like Pizza had patched it already. Aside from her, Crimson was still battle-ready. I hit the switch to open the back troop bay. I kept my SMG level as it slid open.
        Outside, we were greeted by Equestrian ground forces. Apparently a squad was sent over after we were shot down. Now their only objective was to get us back to friendly lines.
        “Is this the Crimson Guard?” one of the soldiers asked.
        “It sure is, trooper. What's the situation?” I replied.
        “Not good, sir. The Zebras have these new war machines. Our bullets are just bouncing right off them. We've been retreating these past twelve miles. I don't think we can make it to Trottingham.”
        “War machines? Can you tell me what they look like?”
        “No, sir. Everypony who's gotten a good look at them never lived long enough to tell us much, though it looks like you got shot down by one. We could really use your team to cover our evac.”
        “Trooper, we are not retreating,” I said, the resolve clear in my voice.
        “Sir, we don't have the firepower...”
        I gestured over to Pizza, who was readying his Rocket Launcher, “We've got that part covered, trooper. Now, where were these war machines last reported?”
        “I don't know, sir. The snipers in first recon do, but they only report to the General.”
        “Then lead the way. I'd like to have a chat with the General.”
        “Yessir.”
        The soldier shuffled out with Crimson on his tail. The rest of his squad helped Starfire out of the gunned down bird. I left a radio tag on the craft, broadcasting on the UNSC high-band, so that we could recover the Pelican later.
        We didn't find many hostiles on our way back to allied lines, but cresting the final hill, we knew why. It was clear this was no easy fight. The Equestrian Heavy Guard was fighting tooth and nail against the Zebras. To our left, the battered and bloodied Equestrians, fighting to reclaim their home. On our right, the unrelenting horde that was the Zebras Forces, fighting to win a battle they have already lost so many for.
        A few Zebras turned their attention towards us as we made our way back to the friendly lines. Our combined firepower made short work of them, but announced our presence to the rest of the Zebras. We passed by some soldiers on the front lines who were down to nothing but hoof-to-hoof combat to stave off the Zebra onslaught. Unfortunately, the Zebras were better in CQC. Those troopers wouldn't last long.
        “Crimson, hold the line here! Starfire, you're with me,” I called out to the team. They hurriedly joined our forces on the front as I progressed further back towards whoever was leading the Equestrian forces here.

        The situation was just as I expected: not good. The contingent of Crimson I sent here earlier was in the command tent. The General didn't take too kindly to our unannounced visit, but he was willing to take all the help he could get. He assigned Crimson to taking out the war machine that was giving our boys such a tough time. Help had already been radioed for, but was a long ways out. In the meantime, it looked like Pizza and I would have to hunt ourselves a few monsters.
        I popped out of the command tent, seeing the scorching sun overhead, and the lethal tracers flying back and forth from the two armies. The wind whipped at my duster, buffing it with the coarse desert sands. I waved Crimson towards the front, where Pizza was readying his rockets.
        I charged forward with Crimson, jumping into the trenchline on the front. The rest of the team was dug in and engaging the enemy. “Crimson, we have a mission update. Our new objective is to eliminate all Zebra war machines in the area. Keep them distracted and Pizza will mop them up.”
        The team began suppressing the enemy positions more. I readied my M7S and peaked over the edge. What I saw was a whole load of nothing, for at least 600 yards. That's a bit too far for the SMG. I ducked back down, shifted my position, and drew my Sniper rifle.
        This time when I looked up, the Zebras were easy enough to see. They were operating in two-man teams. One sniper, one spotter. They were engaging us from far out of range of what the Equestrian's were trained for. Too bad for them I trained better than that.
        The first couple sniper teams were easy enough, but then the other hostiles became aware of me and my rifle. I ducked down into the sandy trench and rethought my approach. Another tank shell soared overhead with unprecedented speed and landed somewhere behind our lines. I pretended not to hear the screams following the blast. My priorities shifted to closing the distance, getting our force's weapons in range of the enemy.
        Pizza slung his Rocket Launcher across his back, “Those damn Zebra snipers keep shooting my rockets down before they can hit anything. We're gonna need a new strategy.”
        I nodded in agreement, “Those snipers are starting to prioritize me. I don't think I'd be able to take another shot without losing my shields. This cracked visor ain't helping too much either. Do you think we could lay down some smoke?”
        “I've only got three grenades, Joe. I don't think that's enough to get you to that war machine nor their lines.”
        “Let my try something.” I keyed my mic, tuning it to Equestrian military frequencies. “Lieutenant Joe to any Equestrian naval assets in Trottingham. If you are receiving, acknowledge immediately.”
        There was a pause... and then a familiar voice came through, “Joe, it's Admiral Nautical. Looks like you've found us the mother of all battles. Our Marines are barely holding a line in the sand, let alone the beachhead!”
        “Same case here, Admiral. I'm sending you some telemetry, do you think one of your ships could send us some smoke shells?”
        “That's a helluva shot to make. The Tartarus has the longest-ranged guns in the fleet. She's sending her shells your way, but don't make a habit of this. Our Marines need those guns to take this beach. Nautical out.”
        I looked to the West, and in only a few seconds, naval shells began raining down in the divide between our lines, filling the gap with thick, white smoke.
        “Fix bayonets!” I yelled at our forces. More than a few eyes went wide with that order. I drew my M7S and chambered a round. “Charge!” I yelled, waving our forces forward as I clambered over the trench. The battle cries at my back told me I was not alone. I cycled Mjolnir's optics to thermal, seeing through the smoke with ease.
        There were several white contacts to our front, but I kept my eyes on the real prize: the war machine. Finally being close enough, and having the time to get a good look at it, I saw that it looked a lot like a UNSC Cobra. It was apparently lifting its lockdown, preparing to go mobile. I doubled my pace before I ran out of time.
        I saw the yellow, friendly contacts on my motion sensor quickly fall behind, replaced by twice as many red contacts toward the front. I stayed true to my target, getting to the tank in no time.
        The commander still had his head poking out of the top, trying to direct his vehicle and supporting infantry away from the smoke. I scoped in on him and let loose a 12 round burst from my M7S. I saw his white silhouette go limp and drop back into the tank. I was only a few yard away from the war machine. I switched back to normal optics.
        The tank was gunmetal grey with red & gold trim, and was the size of a small house. I was only a little intimidated by it, but having dealt with plenty of Wraiths on Requiem, it was all standard procedure to me. I climbed aboard the tank's frontal armor. I holstered my M7S so I could prep a Plasma Grenade, tossing the explosive into the open hatch their commander was courteous enough to leave open.
        I jumped off the mechanical beast as the grenade detonated. I looked around and spotted Pizza's IFF tag just North of my location. I shouldered my M7S and jumped into the Zebra trench, making my way toward my fellow Spartan.
        The trench was mostly vacant, at least until I neared where all the fighting was. There were a half dozen Zebras all with their backs to me. Rather than shoot, I tossed a Promethean Grenade right in the middle of them. When the grenade went off, I open fired with the SMG, turning them, to chum, then to ash.
        I found Pizza fighting alongside Crimson, and quickly joined their ranks. The smoke was starting to dissipate. I switched to thermals, stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Pizza, and open fired at anything white and in the direction I came from. Occasionally Pizza would point at a target before he started reloading, marking them as my kill.

        Game over. Victory!
        When the smoke had finally cleared, destruction was everywhere. I looked over toward our old trenchline to the East. Then at the trench we just took. Several Zebras gave their lives defending this patch of sand in the middle of this godforsaken desert. A price many Equestrians also paid. The Zebra tank was still burning wreckage. I made note of its similarities to the Cobra. Maybe Chuck Finley stole the design from our Pelican's database? It would complicate things, but explain a lot more. My shields hummed back to full in a golden shimmer.
        “Pizza, get back to the Pelican. Secure its crash site. Do not let anyone near it. You got that, Spartan?”
        “Yes, sir,” Pizza responded, “You might want to take these then.” He handed over his Rocket Launcher. I had to readjust my Sniper Rifle in order to make room for both it and the Rocket Launcher on my back. Mjolnir only has so many magnetic holsters, after all.
        Pizza ran off back toward the Pelican's IFF tag. I looked at the forces around me. They were all cover in blood, mostly of their enemy, but some of their own. Looks like Starfire would have some company in the medical tent. The General walked across the battlefield toward me.
        “That was an awesome display! I don't think I've ever seen better fighting in all my days. Looks like the Marejave is ours again, thanks to you, Lieutenant.”
        “General, our mission isn't over yet. We need to take Trottingham. Help those Marines if we can.”
        “Lieutenant, our forces took heavy casualties because of that Zebra war machine. We are combat ineffective as of now. If we stay put, rest up, and get reinforcements, we'll have a fighting chance. If we pack up now and take Trottingham (which we only might), we won't be able to hold the Marejave, and all of this fighting would've been for naught. We're staying put for rearmament and reinforcement. Until then, we can only pray the Marines can take Trottingham.”
        “Sir, those Marines are going through hell right now. The Zebras are on the brink of repelling their assault. If we stay put, the Zebras will have a port city to funnel in more of their infantry. We can lose the Marejave, but the Zebras aren't going to get reinforcements if that's the case. If we lose Trottingham, they'll have all the reinforcements they'll ever need.”
        “Lieutenant, my orders are clear: I'm to hold the Marejave at all costs. If the Zebras take Trottingham, they'll have to go through us to get at the rest of Equestria. Half of my forces are dead or wounded. In our current state, there is no way we can retake Trottingham.”
        “Then what about my team?”
        “The addition of Crimson was unexpected and our plans don't have them factored in at all. It doesn't seem like they're equipped for desert operations so much as urban ops, but you do have a wounded mare... Starfire, I believe her name was. I can let your team go, but I must advise you take care of your wounded first. I'm not one for allowing ponies to die needlessly.”
        “Understood, General,” I popped a salute and then turned to my team, minus Starfire and Pizza. “Crimson, it looks like we'll be on our own for the time being. Our goal is to break into Trottingham and link up with the Marines at the beach. Trottingham is looking like a good place for the Zebras to let in their infantry, so it's our job to stop them. Footfall, I'd like you to stay and keep an eye on Starfire. Everyone else, let's move out,” I checked the mag on my Sniper Rifle, then slammed it home. Footfall gave a salute and headed off toward the medical tent.

        It was a couple hours' march at a brisk pace until the city came into view. There were a few smaller houses on the outskirts of the massive port city. Gazing into the town, I could clearly see over a dozen towers taller than even the highest skyscraper in Stalliongrad. This was a town of business and trade. Even from the outskirts, we could hear the Zebras and Marines trading lead for lead, and blood for blood inside the city.
        Nautical had informed us that no progress was being made on the beachhead. It was looking like our rendezvous was just as it was before. Seeing how many snipers there were in the Marejave, I could only assume just as many were in the city. I zoomed out of my binoculars and ducked back into the abandoned house Crimson was holed up in. Keen Eye and Lyra were already drawing up potential enemy positions on a road map we found. Things were not looking pretty.
        “Alright, team. Judging from the forces we encountered in the Marejave, I'd say we should expect a lot of snipers. Just remember that this is an urban setting, so if you start taking fire, there will be plenty of cover nearby,” I told Crimson. “I'd say given the terrain, the Zebras would expect a massed assault along the rail lines, just like what we did at the Liberation of Stalliongrad, which is why that is not an option here.
        “If we are to fool the Zebras, we'd need a convincing assault to draw their attention elsewhere. Lyra, seeing as you weren't at Stalliongrad, I don't think the Zebras would expect you to be part of our assault. Your job is to link up with the Marines. Just getting there will tell them the Zebras can be beat.
        “Everyone else, we'll divide into two teams. Alpha team will consist of Lockheart and Fencing. You'll be doing rooftop-to-rooftop fighting, engaging the enemy from above and assisting Bravo if they need it, otherwise you're just going to be a general pain in the ass of the Zebras. Harass them and cause chaos.
        “Bravo team will consist of Solace, Pane, Keen Eye, and Daze. You'll be our ground game. You have two objectives: first is to get me into the tallest tower in the heart of the city. Your second objective is to attack the Zebras in the streets and clear their positions to make life easier for our Marines. Look for sniper nests and clear them out. I'll keep you covered. Any questions?” I concluded.
        “What tower do you need to get to, exactly?” Keen Eye asked.
        I pointed at a large building in the middle of the map, pock-marked with several red dots. “The Beaumont Vitality Complex, tallest building in Trottingham. Are any of you familiar with it?”
        Solace spoke “It's previous tenants were a coalition of entrepreneurs that decided to pool their funding to try for bigger endeavors. Right now, it looks like stripe central, with a hundred and twenty floors of hell between the heavens and earth. I've been there a couple times on past deployments, but I think the Navy would have given it enough of a shellacking to make it's floor plan inaccurate.”
        “Is everything settled, then?” I looked around at the team. Lyra looked a little worried, “Something wrong, Lyra?”
        “Is it really such a good idea to have me be alone in the city?” she responded.
        “We'll be providing a major distraction for the Zebras. Additionally, Alpha team will be escorting you until I get in position. You just need to link up with the Marines and tell them that the Crimson Guard is in the city creating chaos for the Zebras. I'd keep the magic to a minimum and stick to the shadows. Stay low to the ground and move quietly and quickly. The Zebras don't know you're part of Crimson,” unless Chuck Finley has already leaked that intel. “You have nothing to worry about, I've been a sniper ever since the battle of Installation 00.”

        VIP!
        The team was ready, and we were moving into the city. I was with Bravo, heading into the East side of Trottingham. Alpha was with Lyra, infiltrating from the South side of the city. The streets were dangerous to travel down. Stray naval shells occasionally hit nearby, once only a few yards to our front. We kept moving, never loitering long enough for the Zebras to find us.
        We were moving deeper into the city, about a kilometer from its center. The tall towers nearby seemed to lean over us, almost forewarning of what we'd be facing up ahead. An explosion in a nearby store caught our attention; it was too small to be naval fire. As the fireball subsided, I motioned for the team to move in and investigate. Something was off.
        I listened carefully. There was the rattle of distant weapons fire from the West; our Marines earning their pay. I tightened the grip on my SMG as we ventured deeper into the building. We reached a back storage room, with crates stack about thirty feet high, to the ceiling. Something was off... things don't just explode in a fireball without reason.
        I closed my eyes, thinking deeper and focusing on my senses. I could smell the metallic scent of Mjolnir's air scrubbers, I threw that scent to the back of my mind. I inhaled again... I could smell the ash from the fireball, the sweat on the brows of my team, the odor of fresh leather radiating from my duster, and the lingering scent of cordite from our excursion in the Marejave. Nothing by my nose, maybe another sense.
        I could hear the subtle breathing of my teammates, and the rustling of objects as they moved about the room. The beat of their boots on the ground... even my own heartbeat. I counted the breaths: Pane, Daze, and Solace were accounted for. One was missing... Keen Eye, the first member of Crimson I saw back in the Whitetail a long time ago. The one leading Cupcake... I needed to find him, but I also needed to know where to look, and for that, I'll need my eyes.
        Another shell struck overhead, knocking some dust off the ceiling, as I opened my eyes. “Keen Eye is MIA,” I whispered, barely catching the attention of Solace.
        “He was just behind me. Where did he go?”
        “I'm not sure, Solace, but I have a feeling he wasn't alone.”
        “Infiltrators?”
        “More than likely. Team! We may have Zebra Infiltrators on the premises. Keep a sharp eye out for them as well as TEC-5 Keen Eye.” I started walking back to the entrance that we came through. The scorched hole in the wall was all that was left of there being a firebomb here moments before.
        Normally explosions don't make a fireball unless if you want them to, so why was there one here? Somebody wanted there to be one. Why a fireball and not a demolition charge? They wanted our attention, not the building's destruction. Why did they want our attention? So it wouldn't be elsewhere. The “Why” of things can reveal so much. I looked carefully at the scorch marks.
        It looked like one of Starfire's incendiaries. Last I checked she had a head injury and was bedridden, with Footfall keeping watch. I looked on the ground for any other indicator of what went boom. Then I found it: a familiar-looking UNSC remote detonator. I started getting the feeling Chuck Finley was here... and very near.
        I lifted up what was left of the detonator. Just a few circuits and some scrap metal left. I pocketed it for later. The only UNSC clackers Pizza and I packed had a max range of 300 yards. Probably less, given we're in a city. Normally, we'd send off det codes via the high-band on a matching frequency using Mjolnir's comm suite, but this world doesn't have Mjolnir. I activated VISR.
        Whoever planted this charge would have a very unique residue on them. Using Mjolnir's atmospheric controls, I managed to make a rough map of the chemical signature of the bomb. Activating the ARGOS sensors, and uploading that data to the VISR system, I managed to get a series of waypoints on my HUD showing where that chemical signature lingered in the highest concentration. I filtered out other known signatures, leaving only the fireball's. It'd be a long shot if the signature was strong enough for a complete trace, but we've got a general direction right now.
        I motioned for my team to rally on me, the set out around the corner, and down an alleyway, following the ARGOS data. ARGOS was always the preferred bomb-sniffing program of the UNSC, came in handy during OP: TREBUCHET, so I've heard. VISR on the other hand, was mostly all washed out in white, given it being low-light night vision that I was using in broad daylight. VISR had the necessary software to run ARGOS through it, which my normal HUD somehow lacked.
        I'd have to be sure to add another soft-patch to my HUD after this battle. We were headed down Mane Street when the ARGOS sensor split into two directions. I held up a closed fist, motioning for my team to halt. I got down on one knee and turned off VISR, examining the roads ahead. One went West, towards the tough fighting, the other went South, towards Alpha. I looked for any clue of which way to go. None presented itself.
        50/50 odds... I went West. My team followed, with me being the only one with any form of ARGOS sensor. I switched back to VISR and the HUD was showing a stronger and stronger chemical trail further up the road. I shouldered my SMG. We went around another corner, following the trail some more. Up ahead was a short telecomm tower, five stories tall. I ducked back to inform my team, then I heard the distinctive crack of a bullet impacting nearby. I started counting but heard no report to gauge the range of the sniper.
        “Sniper,” I whispered, “Not too sure on the range. The vapor trail is leading towards a five story structure at the end of the street. Good money's on the stripe rifleman being up there, most likely in the back of a room on the left side of the building. Most likely fourth or fifth floor, depending on what's behind the building.”
        “How do you know this, Joe?” asked Solace.
        “It's where I'd be,” I said while pulling out the map of Trottingham. It looked like the central plaza was right behind that tower, with a ring of vendor kiosks encircling a central fountain on the other side. What was it with Equestrian architecture and central fountains in town squares? Regardless, given this information, if I was a sniper waiting in ambush, I'd be at the highest floor I could harmlessly jump down from: the fourth.
        I'd also be positioned where I could duck back into cover and move about without detection. The left-most window (from my current perspective) would allow me to quickly roll into cover and change positions without crossing a window. Finally, I tend to notice silhouettes first, so I'd stay away from the roof. Additionally, focus tends to go inwards from such a silhouette, so the top floor would be uncanny. Perspective would also apply to this, so this sniper would be sniping from inside the room, not from a window sill, for risk of the rifle barrel being spotted from the side. Of course this was assuming the shot came from that telecomm tower and not an adjacent structure. Only one way to find out.
        I put my SMG on my right hip holster and unslung my Sniper Rifle from my back. I checked to make sure a round was chambered. Next I turned to face the tower, being sure to not step out from around the corner. I remembered all I could from that glimpse at the tower, and took aim where I thought that sniper would be. I aimed my Sniper Rifle as best I could, the used my Thruster Pack to dodge around the corner at high speed. As soon as the Thruster Pack ran out I planted my feet firmly beneath myself to halt my movement.
        Next I scoped in on the suspected spot, only seeing a pitch-black room beyond that window. I recalled the Zebra rifle design from Big D's Dinner in Stalliongrad, figuring these stripes would be shooting from a bipedal, standing position. I adjusted my aim in a millisecond, then let the 14.5mm armor piercing flechette fly. The window shattered... and all was quiet for seemingly an eternity. I remained statuesque a moment longer. Nothing dared challenge me, but the chatter of rifles in the West.
        Finally I stood upright, and lowered my rifle to a resting position. Before I waved my team over, I scanned the rest of the street. There were no practical sniping positions anywhere else. I walked towards the tower, waving for them to follow me. I swapped back to my Silenced SMG.

        We reached the fourth floor unabated, and I kicked open the only locked door there, letting it fly off its hinges. Inside was the sniper's nest, plus one dead sniper. A cool breeze came in through the window, making my duster wave with it like it was a victorious flag. I walked over to the sniper's body.
        There were finer glass particles on the ground next to his rifle, finer than the shattered window suggested. This Zebra sniper was in a flashy red-and-gold uniform, a much higher-quality uniform than the Zebra infantry I'd encountered in previous engagements. I'd take this to be an officer, then. I noticed that the rifle seemed over-sized for the Zebra, and grabbed it for a closer look.
        It had a wooden stock, a seven foot barrel, and a suppressor on the end. When I looked at the scope, it was shattered clean through. None of the magnifying lenses were left. The rifle was bolt action, so I checked the chamber. Inside was an armor-piercing round of .50BMG. There was no magazine for this rifle, neither built-in nor detachable. I already have plenty .50BMG rounds, and this rifle isn't going to help the others on my team without a scope. What was more curious was that the rifle was stamped “Ironshod Firearms” on the receiver. I'd have to look into that later.
        Seeing as he was an officer, I searched his uniform for anything that could help in this battle. My team had already cleared the rest of the floor. I checked his pockets, only finding more .50BMG AP rounds. Then I moved in on the interior pockets of the uniform. There I found a coin pouch, and a letter. It was written in Zebra, and apparently encrypted as well. It could prove useful, though. I pocketed it.
        I looked at the Zebra one last time in his only remaining eye, then I looked at the wall behind him. Even through the blood and splattered brain matter, a small hole could be seen where my round continued onward. I wasn't too impressed, but it is important to appreciate the kind of damage that a rifle that can penetrate 19 inches of steel can do. One thing I didn't appreciate was that the stripe didn't have a UNSC clacker on him. I shouldered my SMG and marched to the stairwell leading to the fifth floor.
        On the fifth floor was seemingly nothing. Seemingly. We went room to room, looking for anything out of place. It wasn't until we reach the roof access that I spotted something suspicious. The door was rigged to an alarm system. A system that was disabled.
        It looked like the alarm was reliant on magnets to trigger, seeing as a large natural magnet was taped to a conspicuous bar at the top of the door and no sirens were blaring in our ears. Chances are the officer downstairs either had this as a pre-planned escape route, or had come from this direction. I switched back over to VISR, looking for any ARGOS indicators. Whoever had planted the bomb, probably still had the clacker. The waypoints showed a route going off of the roof and across the plaza to a store opposite our tower. This smelled of a trap.
        Every building in the plaza had its windows blacked out. I looked back at the rest of Bravo as they stacked up behind me. “I think we're headed into an ambush,” I said.
        “Well, don't forget about Alpha team, we could always call for help,” Solace told me.
        “I just might, but the VIP needs them more than us. Daze, do you have any non-lethals?”
        “Just a few 9-Bangs. Why do you ask?”
        “I'm thinking that the stripes will be expecting us from this building. So, I'll stay here, and use those 9-Bangs to make it look like we're all engaging the Zebras like we walked into their trap. Solace, you take the team and flank to the North. I believe we passed a side street that will lead you to a building on the Northern side of the plaza, it's a small, two-story structure. Can't miss it.”
        “On it, Joe. Bravo, on me. Let's get Keen Eye back,” Solace waved a hoof for the team to follow him back downstairs. I readied Pizza's Rocket Launcher as Daze handed me his three 9-Bangs. I gave the team a few minutes to navigate around, but I moved before they were in position; they'd need a diversion to get through these streets unmolested.
        I switched over to thermal optics, scanning for peculiar heat signatures. There was a good dozen, all in pairs, but those were only the ones I could see. I aimed at one pair that still seemed to be setting up, and let the rocket fly. Immediately, I switched over to another target position, and let the second rocket loose. Both impact sites swelled like a white cloud through my thermal optics, and I saw nothing leave those areas.
        Then the Zebras started firing back at me. My shields flared bright as I ducked back to cover. I switched over to my Sniper Rifle and waited for the gunfire to subside. Given how much my shields dropped, it looked like they were using .308 rifles. My rifle's mag still had three rounds left, and I had plenty more in reserve. Quiet permeated the battleground for a brief moment, a moment I wouldn't let slip by.
        I rolled out of my cover, scoped in and fired on a third sniper nest. Following through, I ran off the roof of the building, rolled through my landing, and stopped just behind a kiosk. It looked like there was three more nests... at least. I reloaded my rifle and drew out my fiber optic cable. I switched back to standard optics, since the fiber optic cable didn't convey IR or UV light. Using the thin, flexible device, I used it to gaze out from cover without putting my neck on the line. I could count a dozen good spots for hides. My shields hummed back to full strength as I sat there thinking of which positions to attack.
        The decision was made for me when .308 rounds started hitting me. I tracked back to were those rounds were coming from. A sniper team was bearing down on me from a structure just South of the tower I jumped from. My shields were taking some heavy hits, and they wouldn't last long. I tossed a 9-Bang over to the sniper. As the explosions stunned and disoriented him, I rushed to another kiosk toward the north, close to where my team should be punching through.
        I activated my Thruster Pack and slid the rest of the distance, using my momentum to keep me headed forward as I rolled over to get a shot on the stripe snipers behind me. I started getting some déjà vu of a locale of Requiem's called Sniper Alley. I get shot down, then there a more snipers than I have ever seen before, all in one deployment. Unfortunately for these Zebras, I made it through Sniper Alley.
        I looked northward towards the building I directed my team to. They should be coming up in a minute or two, then we'd make the push further West, along the ARGOS trail. I would have to eliminate the snipers first, and for that I'd need a plan. A crazy plan. I switched over to my SMG, leaving my other two weapons on the ground in my cover. Next, I took off my helmet and duster. Using some tape, I attached the duster to the helmet.
        I pulled the pins on the last two 9-Bangs and tossed them into the middle of the plaza. Before they even detonated, I tossed my helmet back towards my previous kiosk. The Zebras engaged it as though it were me, giving me a window to use my Thruster Pack and sprint across the plaza. Rounds started pinging near my feet, the Zebras too stunned by the 9-Bangs to deliver accurate fire. I made it into one of the buildings they were using for hides. Without my helmet, I'd have no shield manipulators for my head. At least I didn't have to deal with the cracked visor any longer...

        Have I ever told you that sniper rifles don't make the best CQC weapons? Well, nobody bothered to tell these Zebras that, either. Going room-to-room was dangerous by one's lonesome, but doable for a Spartan. The Zebras were better in hand-to-hoof combat than myself, but that didn't matter if they couldn't get close enough to use such an advantage. That is why I loved the M7S Silenced SMG. Whisper quiet, high fire rate, with caseless rounds. The enemy might see me coming, but the only thing they're going to hear are their asses hitting the floor.
        I had already cleared two more of the nests in the complex by the time my team arrived in the northern building. They were trading rounds with the Zebras, but neither was getting a good enough shot. I'd have to chalk that up to earth pony agility. I could hear muffled thumps coming from a room up ahead. Suppressors dampen sounds, but doesn't nullify them completely. I guess the next team was in behind door number 3.
        I kicked the door open, and spotted the sniper with his rifle aimed to the north. I aimed my SMG at him and pulled the trigger. Only three rounds got off, before I was knocked to the ground. I'm not sure who hit the floor first: me or the sniper. I tried to turn my SMG on the offender, but it was kicked free from my grasp, and I took a blow to the head, nearly knocking me out.
        My vision was blurry, my ears ringing, and all I could taste was copper, but I had to fight to survive this encounter. I boosted myself towards the window with my Thruster Pack. The dark room wasn't helping me find my target. I'd need a silhouette to find him easily, like with the sniper. My senses gradually returned to me. The lights came on in the room, and as I stopped seeing stars, I came face-to-face with my attacker. He didn't have a gun, but he now held a sword in his jaw.
        He had white and black stripes across his entire body, but something seemed off about those stripes. It was like the white was where the black was supposed to be and vice versa. It was uncanny, but what I found odd was that he just waited there, sword at the ready. He was on his hind legs, seeming to try to mimic my own stance. We stared at one another for what felt like an eternity. I think I knew why he wasn't attacking.
        It was all for honor, just like in Neighagra. I was unarmed, he had a blade. I was trapped, he wasn't going to change his position. I killed his shooter, he wanted revenge. I drew my combat knife from my left vambrace and adopted a better stance. Now it was an even fight.
        He jumped at me, soaring through the air like a rocket. I dodged under him with my Thruster Pack. While he was passing above me, he tried to land a kick to my head. I barely brought my arms up in time to block. We both rolled back up into our stances, positions reversed. We locked gazes again. He seemed intent on killing me, like I was the only thing he was focused on. Good thing too, because a round came flying through the window and struck him directly.
        He turned around, looking to see who had challenged his honor in the fight. He was clutching his side as he collapsed onto his other three hooves. He almost turned around to face me again, but I had already stuck it to him.
        I waited for the residual plasma to dissipate from my last grenade, then I grabbed my SMG. I was about to head over to the last nest, but it seemed to have gone quiet. Bravo started waving me over. Smart money was on them having eliminated the last nest before me. I found my way down and across the plaza.
        “About time you guys show up,” I told the team as I grabbed my duster and helmet, donning them again.
        “It's called 'dramatic suspense', Joe. We were just waiting for the perfect moment,” Pane said.
        I grabbed my Sniper Rifle and Pizza's Rocket Launcher. My helmet was showing green across the board for Mjolnir's systems. “Every second counts, Pane. Now, let's go rescue Keen Eye. The trail leads West.”
        “How are you even tracking him? Does our equipment have IFF tags on it?” Solace asked.
        “Negative, Admiral. ARGOS sensors are used to track and find explosives and their residues. The firebomb back there had a unique signature, so I'm tracking the residue from it. Whoever planted it has us on their tail.” I slapped in another pair of rockets and slung the launcher across my back. “And the trail is hot,” I added.

        Entering the western building in the plaza was easy enough, but every door was locked. I almost wish I'd brought a Shotgun to breach these damned things. So far, we were finding nothing in every room. I've never picked a lock before, so I opted to try and bypass the lock. The old credit card trick seemed to work well enough with a combat knife.
        We had cleared the last of the rooms on the third floor, and were stacking up at the top floor's stairs. It also looked like we were out of explosives, so my standard breach was out of the question. We inched up the steps, making it to the door. It wouldn't budge. The ARGOS trail lead right here, but according to the map, there was no way out, not even an adjacent alley. This building only opened to the plaza, which we had sufficiently cleared.
        I pulled out my fiber optic cable, and squeezed one end through the bottom of the door, patching the feed into my helmet. The cracked visor was making it a bit more difficult to view than normal, but it was coming through clear enough. There was only one large room, apparently still under construction. I guess that would explain why the rest of the building was devoid of most furniture. I twisted the camera around, trying to get a better view of things, but it was too dark to see any specifics. I pocketed the fiber optic cable, and got my boot ready.
        The door came flying off its hinges and my team rushed in. I reactivated VISR to see better in the dark room. In the middle was a pool of blood. Far more than there ever should be. “Clear!” I heard Daze call out.
        I walked closer, not taking my eyes off the pool. I put a finger in the blood, to make sure it was in fact blood. My first guess was right, and judging by the color, it was sitting here for a little while but not long enough to dry up. I saw something poke up out of the blood. I pulled it out.
        Eye, Keen
        26595255        TEC-5
        AB POS        EHG
        They were Keen Eye's dog tags. Not exactly in a UNSC-standard format, but this wasn't exactly the UNSC. “That's a lot of blood, Joe,” Solace said. I pocketed the dog tags.
        “If he's still alive, he isn't here.” I checked the ARGOS waypoints again. “And it looks like the trail goes cold here. Somehow the bomber managed to get rid of his chemical signature. We have nowhere to go from here. Let's get going to our original objective... it's not far from here.”
        The team gradually walked out of the room, but I lingered a second longer. I did one last sweep of the room, looking for any possible hint as to where Keen Eye went. VISR was highlighting something. I switched back to standard optics and activated my helmet-mounted flashlights. There was definitely a glint on the floor, about two feet west of the blood pool. I walked closer to investigate.
        It was the UNSC detonator. I picked it up gingerly, looking it over carefully. It looked like the detonator had already been used, judging by the lack of a safety pin. I placed it next to Keen Eye's dog tags in an ammo pouch and followed my team to the ground floor.

        The Beaumont Vitality Complex was even bigger up close than it was through my binoculars. From down here I could barely see my perch: three floors down from the top, just in front of the complex's telecomm tower, north side.
        Between that floor and where we stood was a hundred and five floors of sniper nests. Those hostiles were giving our Marines a pounding, and it looked like it would be our job to stop them. I checked to make sure I had a round chambered in my SMG. We'd have to find Keen Eye after all this blew over.
        “Okay, Bravo. You'll need to escort me up to floor 102, from there, I'll be in position to cover both you and Alpha. Once I get in position, I'll wave you guys off. From there, you'll proceed to cause havoc for the enemy throughout the city. Link up with the Marines if you can. Solace, once we split, you'll be leading Bravo. Alpha should be able to give you some top cover once we get out of there. Is everypony ready?”
        “We're all set, sir,” Solace said.
        We advanced to the front of the building. “Daze, you got any stuns?” I asked.
        “Negative, Joe. I gave you the last.”
        “Looks like we've got to do this the hard way. I'll lead, my shields can take some of their fire, but we've got to rush to cover. Ready?”
        “Ready!” the team responded.
        “Breaching!” I yelled, kicking in the door. The lobby was a massive room. There was a pair of palm trees on either side of the front desk. It was very open, not much in the way of cover, but the planters the trees rested in could suffice. Behind the front desk, there was a pair of staircases headed in opposite directions, leading up to the second floor mezzanine. Toward the back of the second floor, in the middle, was a grouping of elevator shafts, with stairwells further back from them. Oh, and there were snipers.
        My shields flared as I ran into the middle of their kill box, drawing their fire. I could only stay a half-second before I had to bolt for the planter on the right. My shields were down, but it looked like Bravo got to cover using what little time I bought them. The Zebra snipers were keeping me pinned, as well as the rest of my team. I waited for my shields to hum back to max.
        “Cover me!” I called out to my team. I jumped up from my cover, and ran just below a sniper position on the mezzanine above me. I activated my Thruster Pack to boost my jump up to the second floor, clambering over the railing. I shouldered my SMG once I got topside and unloaded half a mag into the nearest Zebra. The other hostile snipers turned their attention from my team to me.
        When they open fired, I grabbed the Zebra I shot before he could hit the floor, using him as a meat shield. The Zebra rounds were still penetrating, but they weren't hitting all that hard. My shields were barely fading under their concentrated fire.
        I fired from around the corpse-shield until my mag ran dry. With a flick of the wrist, it clattered to the floor. I would have to drop my improvised cover to reload, which would most likely spell my doom, given how quickly their combined fire can whittle my shield down. “Back up!” I radioed.
        Bravo charged up the stairs, and the Zebras started zeroing in on them. A series of cracks rang through the air as shattered glass rained to the floor... then all was still. I looked up from my corpse-cover.
        “Alpha team reporting in, Joe. The VIP made it,” Lockheart greeted me.
        “Alpha, glad to have you back. Bravo was kinda getting in a tough bind,” I replied, relieved to see the Colonel.
        “I thought you were supposed to be covering us by now?” Fencing said.
        “We got delayed; Keen Eye is MIA.”
        “What happened?”
        “The Zebra's set off an incendiary bomb to distract us, and jumped Keen Eye while our backs were turned. We tried to follow him, but the trail went cold when we found his dog tags. We can continue the search for him when less pressing matters need to be dealt with. Right now, we need to take this tower and provide support to our Marines,” that brought Alpha up to speed.

        Storming the floors was somewhat similar to the plaza, and eventually we got it down to a routine. Kick the door, storm the room, sweep the corners, Alpha flanks through the windows (if available). We went through about a hundred floors like that, clearing sniper nest after sniper nest. Eventually, I couldn't even hear rifle reports from within the building.
        It was looking like we cleared the building thoroughly, and with no casualties to boot. I radioed to the teams, “It looks like my hide is secure. You guys should head out into the streets and be a general pain in the ass of our enemy and support the Marines when they get to your location. I'll set up and provide long-range support. Bonus points to whoever drops the Legate. Once the city is secure, we'll rendezvous at the house we set up in before entering this godforsaken hellhole. How copy?”
        “Good copy,” Solace and Lockheart said in tandem. Solace headed for the stairs while Lockheart and his team went for the nearest window. As they left, I started gazing around my chosen sniper den. This was a conference room for the executives of the Beaumont Vitality company. It was rather cramped with the large table in the middle of the room. I decided to move some furniture.
        I positioned the table towards the North side of the room; the windows there had a better overlook on the city, whereas the others were blocked partly by the building's exterior façade. I moved all but two of the chairs against the South wall, barricading the door with them. The East wall was bare, and I left it as such. The West side had all the windows, which wrapped around to the North side partially. I killed the lights to the room, that way anyone looking in would just see it as a mirror, until I shot out one of the windows.
        The last two chairs I moved into position behind the table, using one to sit down on and the other to hold my extra magazines. I unslung my Sniper Rifle and deployed its bipod on the conference table. I grabbed three extra mags from the chair and set them up next to my rifle, so that I would have them at the ready for faster reloads. I pulled out my fiber optic cable and plugged into into my helmet and sniper scope.
        Mjolnir's systems automatically booted up the ballistic computer and a moment later highlighted the path my shot would take. This high up in a skyscraper, it looked like there was notable wind currents just outside the window. I scoped in on the beach. The Marines came into view, and things weren't pretty.
        “Nautical, you reading me?”
        “Loud and clear, Joe,” the Admiral responded.
        “I'm set up in the Beaumont Vitality Complex and have a good sight line on your Marine's positions. Tell them they can designate targets with flares. I'll provide sniper support on those targets.”
        “Right away, Joe. Nice of you to return the favor.”
        “Just don't shell the Complex and everything will be fine.”
        I waited for the designated targets to come up, eliminating targets of opportunity between designated kills. I only saw a couple stripes down below in their officer's uniform like what I'd found at the telecom tower. I saw a Marine fire a flare gun into an enemy pillbox, South of his position. The ballistic computer recalculated for the shot, showing a distance of 700 yards. The thin red line matched up with the gun port on the pillbox, and I let a shell fly. The window of the conference room shattered, but the round didn't deviate from its course; after all, it could punch through 19 inches of armor.
        A half second later, the 14.5x114mm APFSDS-T round went into the pillbox, and the position fell silent. Moments later, the Marines charged out of their sandy trenches and charged the position, bayonets affixed. I switched my radio channel over to the Marine frequencies. There was a lot more chaos on the airwaves than on the Navy's channels. I started to focus on the channels, listening for any call-outs for hostile locations. What I heard was the cries of desperate warriors.
        “Move up! We've gotta push them back off our beach!”
        “Last mag, I need ammo!”
        “Corpsman! We've got wounded!”
        “Hostiles in the building South East of us, sir!”
        That was my call. I shifted my aim 300 yards further down range, and I found a den of snipers setting up, with basic infantry suppressing the Marines. Before I could take them out, the snipers broke my line of sight, headed straight for their hides. I focused on the hostile infantry instead. The last three rounds of my mag clattered to the floor along with three Zebras a thousand yards away. I grabbed one of the mags I set up earlier and loaded it.
        It looked like the Marines were pushing South due to my support. I saw Lyra with some of the wounded, doing her best to patch them up. She seemed a little shaken, but there were bigger fish to fry. I saw a flare to the North of their position.
        I shifted my fire and looked for the target. This one was an officer leading an infantry charge against the Marines' crippled North flank. One shot cut the head off the snake, but the infantry already had their orders. I switched over to Navy channels. “Nautical, requesting artillery support on designated target North of current Marine positions.”
        “Target spotted, Joe. Destroyer Outta Your League, engage!” I looked out at the warships. One of the ships had her guns drop in elevation and shift North. Almost as soon as it fired, I saw a chain of explosions walked up and down the charging Zebras. Only bits and pieces remained. Immediately after, it shifted its guns back to focus on sniper dens in the city.
        I refocused onto the North flank. The Marines were digging in, not having enough numbers to push the Zebras back. A glance back up at the warships revealed another wave of landing craft headed toward the beach. A handful of these boats were painted matte black, very different from the OD green of the other boats. These black boats were headed toward the North, all the other boats were headed to the South.
        Another flare popped, this one between me and the Marines. Their eastern flank was getting pummeled. It looked like they were at the apex of a Zebra kill box. The Zebras had set up MG nests, they looked like the same type of HMGs I faced in Cloudsdale. Those would chew those Marines apart. I engaged the designated MG operators before moving on to the other MG nests.
        Before I could offline the next nest, the previous one was re-manned by more stripes. It looked like the stripes where coming out of the buildings all over the eastern flank of the Marines. I decided to shift my fire from the MG operators to the guns themselves. I let loose the last round of my current mag and reloaded. The round impacted the receiver of one of the .50 Cal machine guns, damaging it beyond repair.
        The Zebra crew drew their rifles and charged out of the nest against the Marines. I barely had enough time to engage, dropping the last stripe at the edge of the Marine's trenchline. I was glad I set up those mags earlier. Without taking my eyes off the scope, I grabbed some more mags from the chair and set them up on the table like before. I was about to eliminate the second of their three MG nests when I heard a bolt click closed. My gaze immediately went over to the barricaded door.
        Something was off here... I disengaged the fiber optic capable and my HUD returned to normal. I aimed my rifle at the door, and waited. “Nautical, I believe my position is compromised. I'll have to relocate before I can engage any more targets.”
        “Solid copy, Joe, but it doesn't look like you'll be needed for much longer. Our forces have taken the North, and are flanking the East. The South is being held steadily by the forces already there.”
        “I thought we were loosing the North?”
        “Not any more, some hotshot SF team popped up and volunteered themselves to take the North flank. Things are looking good there.”
        “Where's the most likely point I can link up with them?”
        “The Eastern trenchline, probably, but these guys are like a hot knife through the Zebra's butter. The fight might be over before you can make it to the beach.”
        “Copy that.” I heard something shuffle around on the other side of the East wall. I turned to face that wall, expecting something to spring out at me. A good fifteen minutes passed with me just aiming a Sniper Rifle at a blank wall. I didn't hear any further sounds, though. I pressed my ear up to the wall as best I could with a helmet on and concentrated on my hearing.
        I could hear my heartbeat and my blood flow through my veins. I could hear myself breathe, and I could hear the chatter of small arms fire from the beach several hundred yards' distant. I held my breath and tried to ignore my heart and blood for the time being. I could hear something faint... almost too faint to hear. I couldn't decipher what it was.
        On a hunch, I switched to VISR and had ARGOS scan the door, this time for any variety of explosives, instead of a particular signature. A half-dozen icons appeared on the door. I almost forgot to breathe. My only way out would likely get me killed. I guess I'd have to make a new way out. I aimed back at the wall.
        I was out of explosives... or was I? I looked back at the door and aimed at one of the ARGOS icons. I fired an APFSDS-T round through the door, forcing a premature detonation of the explosives. The explosion took out the entire South wall as well as the door. I could see into the floors above and below me. I rushed out of the room, switching over to my Silenced SMG.
        Then something hit me like a truck. I was knocked westward, landing on my side, my SMG a few feet beyond my reach. Immediately, I was being pummeled. My visor cracked some more, my shields were down. I quickly brought up my arms to block. The blows shifted lower, now targeting my core. I could feel this bastard straddling me, so I activated my Thruster Pack to boost between his legs. This got me out of his grip, and gave me some room.
        I rolled onto all fours and looked up. This Zebra was unique, compared to the other militants. He had what looked like steel armor, custom-fitted around his body to allow maximum mobility and protection. He also had a red cape, for some reason.
        I shifted onto one knee and drew my Sniper Rifle. Before I could scope in, a flashbang went off and he was gone. My eyes immediately shifted to my motion sensor... it was blank. I looked around the hall some more. I couldn't see him, but the room adjacent to the conference room was open. Three guesses where he went. I grabbed my SMG and slung my Sniper Rifle, then inched my way inside.
        Looking left and right, the room looked clear. Now, bad guys just don't vanish into thin air... unless if I have a Wraith. So where did he go? I turned, about to head back into the hall when a red dot appeared directly above me. I thrusted backwards immediately, leveling my SMG on the bastard. I fired off only a few round before he closed the distance and knocked my SMG loose. I really should get a sling for that damned thing... The rounds pinged off his armor, not affecting him in the slightest. He grabbed me and threw me through the West wall before I could even put up my dukes.
        I crashed right through the drywall and maybe a stud or two. I landed against the conference table I was sniping from, and looked up at this steel-clad warrior. He looked like he was going to kill me... Understandable. He looked as though I wasn't even putting up a fight... Unacceptable. I stood up as I drew my combat knife from its concealed sheathe in my left vambrace, getting in a good fighting stance. My auto-doc reported it had used a morphine syrette.
        This hostile also had a lengthy combat knife of his own, and he wasn't too happy with me. Gripping the knife in his maw, he charged forward as I did the same. When we were feet apart I jumped upward, and used my Thruster Pack to accelerate my landing. I touched down behind him, and we both spun clockwise to face each other. I reversed the grip on my knife and tried for a backhand strike to his head. He ducked down, dodging the strike.
        He dropped his knife from his maw and caught it between his right fetlock and corresponding hoof. He tried for an upward strike, and I rolled left to dodge. I followed through with an elbow to his ribs, and a crack greeted my ears. Switching striking arms, I tried a second elbow towards his head. Yet again, he ducked.
        Now that he was below my center of mass, he grabbed onto me and lifted me skyward. He twisted and threw me towards one of the windows. I went tumbling out amongst several shards of glass. My Thruster Pack kicked in and brought me back from the brink, hurling my back into the building. As soon as my feet touched back down on the carpeting of the conference room, I spun counterclockwise for a haymaker. My strike connected to the stripe's head as he tried for another grapple, and he collapsed in a heap. He started chuckling a little, but I ignored this distraction. I wasn't going to be caught monologuing just because he decided to laugh.
        I grabbed onto his mane and tail and threw him like he was a mischievous ruffian, right out the window he just tried to send me through. I watched him fall, my eyes following him down until I found the source of his laughter. Did I mention how numbing morphine can be? Apparently when I landed my haymaker, he planted his knife in my gut. He wasn't trying for another grapple, but for a finishing blow. Blood started dripping out of the wound. I looked back at the splat on the ground that was the bastard who stabbed me. His knife was a little to the left of where the ballista ran me through so long ago.
        I tried to sit down, my back propped up against the window sill. I switched back over to the Marine comm channels. Another flare popped near another pill box on the South flank before I could listen to any chatter. I reached over and grabbed my Sniper Rifle. “Lyra, if you're hearing this, I need immediate medical assistance in the conference room on floor 103 of the Beaumont Vitality Complex. Northwest corner. Alpha, Bravo, help her out. I'll do what I can from here,” I radioed.
        I shouldered my rifle and scoped in. I wouldn't have the advantages of my fiber optic cable and integrated ballistic computer in this situation. That striped bastard worsened the crack running down my visor. My blood was starting to stain my duster. To top it all off, my auto-doc said it was out of biofoam. Great. I looked in at the pillbox. My rifle was swaying a bit too much for me to get a clear shot. I switched to a lefty grip, took another deep breath, and cradled the rifle. This time, it was a bit more stable. I saw the target clearly; he had a helmet none too different from that of King Leonidas in ancient Sparta. I lined up the shot, fatigue ravaging my body. I aimed and let the lead fly. I saw the round arch over, and it struck the target in his hind leg, stumbling him. I set down my rifle. I needed to catch my breath before my rifle's sway had those rounds landing in friendlies.
        I saw a flash from down the hall, just around the corner. Equal parts paranoia and concern played at me. I crawled over and grabbed my Silenced SMG from the floor. I kept pressure on my wound with my right hand, holding my SMG as steady as I could with my left. I saw a silhouette of a shadow cast from around the corner, approaching at a casual pace. It wasn't the silhouette of a unicorn. I kept my sights level.
        Around the corner stepped a young colt, too young to be enlisted. He had a red mane and a butter colored coat. He was also armed with fancy-looking a shotgun. His cutie mark was seven polished ball bearings arranged randomly. He meandered right up to me, unfazed by me pointing a gun at him. “Hey, it's you! Can't believe that old man's spell actually worked! You look kinda hurt, and I don't have much time. Take this, chug it down, and pull out that knife,” he said as he handed me a bottle with a purple solution in it.
        “Who are you?” I asked, cautiously taking the bottle.
        “My name's Buckshot. I guess I'll be seeing you around, probably later rather than sooner... for you at least,” He left the room, heading back down the hall. As soon as he rounded the corner, a bright violet flash occurred and all was silent. I felt my strength sap somewhat. I looked at the bottle. It had a Ministry of Peace insignia on it. I took off my helmet, popped the top to the bottle and downed the solution. Almost immediately a tingling sensation was felt around the knife. I slowly (and painfully) withdrew the blade. Blood started spilling out, but it was a lot less than I thought it would be.
        Right before my eyes, the wound started to heal. The gel layer resealed over the split moments thereafter. My auto-doc started saying I was all green. I started feeling a bit better too, but residual pain was still there. Some of the purple substance was still left in the bottle. I put the cap back on it and pocketed the bottle. I would have to figure out what it was later. And whoever the hell that Buckshot kid was as well.
        I tried to get up and was surprised to find success at that. I looked over the blade that had moments before been in my gut. I looked a lot like a Tanto knife, but with the hilt of a Kukri. Definitely a somewhat unique blade. I pocketed it, my empty mags, and spent shell casings. I holstered my SMG, re-slung my Rocket Launcher and Sniper Rifle, and headed out the door.
        “Lyra, belay what I just said. Give me a SitRep, over.”
        “Joe, an SF group rolled in, and now the beach is secured. Marines are advancing into the city with little to no resistance. You sure you don't need that medical attention?”
        “I'm somewhat certain, Lyra. But are you certain about the Marines facing no resistance?”
        “Well, I'm right now at the bottom of the Beaumont Vitality Complex, and we took no casualties en route.”
        “Shit, this is starting to sound a lot like Neighagra. Do you think the Marines can handle securing the city?”
        “Joe, it looks good from down here. Nautical says the fleet will hang around for a while, make sure the Zebras don't try anything.”
        “Solid copy, heading down to you,” I switched to Crimson's comm channel, “All Crimson callsigns, head over to the rendezvous. It looks like our job here is done.”

        The walk back to the Marejave was long, but quiet. It was the perfect welcome to our team. I only wished Keen Eye could be with us to feel this peace. We eventually made it back to the General, who said that he got his reinforcements and would be heading to Trottingham ASAP. We kindly reminded him that the Marines, with a little help from Crimson, had already taken back the city. He seemed a little riled at that. Good thing my visor was polarized, I didn't want to know how he would've reacted if he good see me grinning ear-to-ear.
        We found our way over to the medical tent, and found some leather restraints holding Starfire down. She had a gauze bandage over her head, and Footfall was holding an ice pack up to his head. “Who the hell strapped down my EOD technician?” I asked the two.
        “I did,” Footfall said, lazily raising the hoof that wasn't holding the ice pack.
        “And I take it the ice pack is because of her?”
        “Yes, sir,” Footfall responded.
        “Starfire, what happened?”
        “I'm fine,” she said vehemently, “I don't need to see a doctor.”
        “I think I've heard this story before. A few times, at least,” I said, recalling my service in the UNSC Marines (and later, ODST). “I take it that you didn't want to sit around in medical as your friends were out there fighting, so you tried to escape. That is the very reason why I assigned Footfall to you, who did a greater job than I expected. I honestly thought you'd break out and make a beeline for Trottingham, with Footfall trailing behind. Though, I think the leather restraints are a bit much.”
        “She kicked me in the head,” Footfall countered.
        “It could've been a lot worse. Anyways, Trottingham is secure, and we're homeward bound.”
        Starfire had something to say, “Last I checked, we were shot down. How do you plan on getting back to Canterlot? By hoof?”
        “The general's reinforcements got here somehow, right? I was thinking we could just hitch the return ride. Either that or see if Nautical could give us a lift.”
        Lockheart and Lyra were left to undo Starfire's restraints and get her ambulatory. I ordered the rest of Crimson to stay put. I walked back out into the desert and looked around for a certain IFF tag.
        “Pizza, still holding the fort, I see?”
        “By your command, Joe. No one got too close to the Pelican while you were gone. I take it Trottingham is ours?”
        “You got that right, Pizza. Now, how are we going to get this thing back to base?”
        “I don't think it's possible, Joe. You got any ideas?”
        “Aside from getting the princesses down here, in the middle of a recently hot warzone, to carry our luggage? No. But we might be able to make this thing more capable of being left behind. You still got your neural implant?”
        “Yeah, all officers do, just like you.”
        “I was thinking we could offload the sensitive data from this bird and then enact the Cole Protocol's procedures to wipe the system. We'll offload it all back at the HQ later.”
        “If you're needing two neural implants for this, just how much data did you upload to the Pelican before we left?”
        “Well, I like to read and look over technical manuals... and I packed enough data to last us about 15 years... so a lot? Maybe all of it, or at least all of what would be interesting. Textbooks are rather dull to read through.”
        “Alright, it's your bird, you should do the honors first.”
        “Got it, Pizza,” I walked into the overturned hulk of the dropship, advancing into the cockpit of the aircraft. I looked up and the controls, near the AI stand. I reached up to the back of my helmet and yanked the neural implant chip. I reached up and inserted the chip into the stand. The controls flickered back to life and I reached over to the computer controls. I transferred about half the files onto my implant and yanked it once it completed. “You're up, Pizza.” Wash, rinse, repeat.
        The transfer completed and he reinserted his implant. It looked like all the files were duplicated successfully. I opened up a very old file embedded in the Pelican's data banks. I highlighted it and punched the “Enter” key. In an instant, the screens blacked out, then returned on the infamous blue screen of death. “Point of no return,” I muttered to Pizza.
        “Not really, the computers back at HQ should be able to handle this data just fine. Also, it'd give us an excuse to check that proximity scanner again.”
        “I also need to tell you that Chuck Finley is still in play, and getting more active. Thus far, I believe he was behind Keen Eye's kidnapping, the ambush that almost iced you, intelligence theft for the UNSC Cobra, and maybe much more. I'm not too sure who it is, and with everything that Finley has done, I am almost certain he is on our own fireteam.”
        “So you're saying the spy we somehow recruited is getting more bold?”
        “There is a good chance of it. That Cobra was something that was on the files in the HQ. Aside from the princesses and their messengers, the HQ is known only to Crimson. Those messengers never got into the HQ itself, only just outside it, so they never had access to our files. Additionally I found a UNSC detonator while tracking Keen Eye. We need to do a full audit of all our materiel before we conduct any further operations, but the hard part is that we'll have to do it without Crimson knowing.”
        “And how will we do that?”
        “I'll head out on a special assignment, leaving you in charge. We've done this before, so it won't look too suspicious. While I'm out, I'll take note of all of our UNSC gear at our old LZ and figure out what else is missing, and maybe get some help on this job from the Night Guard. Outside the HQ, at the ambush, the Zebras there seemed somewhat shocked when I depolarized my visor. They called me “Starspawn”, their equivalent of a demon. I'm thinking it's safe to say the Zebras would never work with a thestral. I'll see if a few bats will be willing to help us out. From there, were should be able to set up Chuck Finley, and catch red handed.”
        “Your plan sounds solid to me. What should I preoccupy the team with?”
        “Training... wargames... that sort. And focus on their long-range accuracy. I mean extreme long-range, a mile plus. You think you can do that?”
        “Two to one odds, but I'll take that bet. This will also leave you alone to do this investigation, aside from your thestral friends. You think you can trust them?”
        “I've trusted outlaws at Arcadia just fine, and that was notably worse than here. Now, let's regroup and get a ride back home.”

____________________________________________________________________________________________

        “So Chuck Finley managed to steal UNSC files?”
        “For the most part, which made him my priority target. Not the best position to be in, with a sniper on your tail.”
        “If the Admiral heard about such a leak, he wouldn’t wait to get back to Earth for your execution.”
        “Good thing we aren’t going back to Earth, then. I’ve made a lot of friends back there, and they will help me. Now, two more things: where’s the motor pool, and why is the Admiral really riding my ass about these mundane details?”
        “The motor pool is amidships, C deck, port and starboard. We are currently on G deck, in the aft compartments. And the Admiral thinks that your presence is more than coincidental. It has to do with the Infinity.”
        “What does the Infinity have to do with this?”
        “It’s actually about the mission that landed you in Equestria, and why it took us so long to get you back.”
        “Doctor, stop beating around the bush: what does the Infinity have to do with- Get down! Marine patrol. You think they know of our escape?”
        “If not, they will soon.”

> Ch 13 Internal Affairs
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

        The ponies who pulled the troop carriages that brought in the General's reinforcements were more than happy to give us a lift to the nearest train yard. From there, we'd find a locomotive en route to Canterlot. For now, we were at Las Pegasus, a thriving city in the sands. One of the carriage pullers told me this city was known for its gambling, specifically breaking more than it makes. It was all up to whether or not I wanted to run those odds. I opted out, only having some questionably acquired bits from the battlefield.
        I ordered Crimson to get some rest and relax for a bit, but to keep their radios on. The team happily agreed. Pizza and I would have to send word to the Princesses about how our operation went down. The carriage stopped at the train yard, and we disembarked, some of us more eager to see the sites than others.
        I grabbed a train schedule from a nearby kiosk. It showed the earliest train to Canterlot would leave in three hours. I passed the info on to the team before letting them loose on the city. “What's the plan?” I asked Pizza in idle talk.
        “What do you mean? I thought we were just going to try and catch a certain persona non grata?”
        “I mean about the city. We have three hours to kill, and I think we've both earned some R&R.”
        “We could always hit up the casinos.”
        “With what money? The only local currency I have I scavenged off a few kills of mine. Not enough for any more than a few hands of blackjack.”
        “Well. It ain't much, but weapon maintenance is never out of the question.”
        “You've really got nothing, do you? Maybe we've just been in this kind of shit storm so long... we just don't know what to do without it. Last time I had nothing to do, I reenlisted at the urging of a certain Spartan-III. Before that, the Covenant cut my leave short.”
        “Guess it was just action followed by more action... with an explosive chaser.”
        “You're starting to sound like Tarkov, the poor bastard,” I let out a light chuckle.
        “You know, I was on the Dawn when he bit it. Mind filling me in? On Requiem, it seemed we never had time to just chat.”
        “Yeah... Tarkov and his squad (including me) were set up in Voi. We holed up there, waiting for the Chief to arrive in a convoy. Once he got there, we pushed our way through the Covenant positions. Eventually we made our way to the AA gun the Brutes set up, and the Chief took it out. Tarkov ordered our squad to stay behind and defend the warehouse, cover the Chief's ass.”
        “Wow, you fought by the Master Chief!?”
        “Yeah, the best fighter I've ever seen... and a hell of a team player. Anyways, all of a sudden, this Covenant ship popped out of slipspace and crashed pretty damn close to our position, but something seemed off about it. Tarkov ordered us to set up defensive positions. We did so, and Coady, another one of our team, went forward to try and link up with the Chief. Then... then this horrible screaming was heard all throughout the warehouse,” my blood ran cold just remembering that sound. That horrible sound.
        “Then what happened?” concern was on Pizza's voice. I pressed on.
        “We heard gunfire from outside, followed by the screaming of several Marines. I set out to try and see what was happening. I was almost to the exit door when it opened and the Chief was looking directly at me. Instantly he pointed his rifle at me, and... then he fired.”
        “The Chief almost fratted you?”
        “No, but I thought he was for a moment. You remember the Flood, right?”
        “Yeah...” he said with more than a modicum of trepidation in his voice.
        “A swarm of those little infection forms were sneaking up on me. One was already lunging when the Chief fired, popping the fucker. He emptied his mag in the parasites and continued to run deeper into the warehouse. I hate the Flood worse than even the Covenant for what I saw next.”
        “I didn't think it was possible for you to hate anything more than the Covenant, Joe.”
        “I didn't think so, either, Pizza. What I saw was all of these different Flood forms swarming the facility. I hadn't left Tarkov for more than a minute and he was already being overrun. The Chief tossed some frags just in front of the sandbags they had set up. The bags protected them, but not the Flood forms. I did the same all throughout the warehouse. The fighting was hard, but we eventually emerged on the other side of the warehouse.
        “Tarkov ordered us topside, onto the roof. We were all better than your average shot, so I guess he figured we'd support the Chief, maybe flank the Flood. We got out onto the roof in time to see the Shadow of Intent drop some Sangheili warriors onto the field. We saw that they had the situation under control, and pushed on across the roof to the other side of the complex. We got to the main gate in the other sector, and were about to open it when Combat Forms rained down us. We gave them everything we had, but had to fall back.
        “We went through mag after mag. The flood was thinning us out. The tricky thing with those bastards is you can't just shoot them, you need to shoot the Infection Form controlling the body. Everything else is non-vital. They do not feel pain, nor compassion. And sometimes, even after you drop them, they'll get back up anyways. They had to have some healing factor going for them.
        “The Flood shifted positions to block us from falling back to the Chief and the Elites. Instead, Tarkov ordered us to go along the upper pathway that paralleled the ramp up to the gate. Infection and Carrier Forms started to move in on our position, but the Chief was going through them like a hot knife through butter. But even he was too slow. An Infection Form climbed up to us and hopped onto Tarkov. It burrowed through his armor and hijacked his body.
        “I only wish he died instantly. After that, I realized I was all that was left. I popped a smoke grenade and hid in the nearest dumpster I could find. It felt like I was in there for hours... maybe days. Reports said it was minutes. All I could hear was the grotesque, fleshy sound of the Flood. Eventually, once the noises stopped, I emerged, gun at the ready. I was alone. I didn't know if I should be thankful or mortified. I eventually found what was left of my squad, and radioed for evac. I was picked up by the same Phantom that picked up the Chief a little later.
        “When we got back to a friendly ship, I found my way to Lord Hood who had me assigned to your team. Then I left as the Chief entered for what looked like a very critical debrief. You know the rest.”
        “Damn... the Flood got Tarkov?”
        “As far as I could tell, but I didn't see any body. You know how the Flood is.”
        We sat there for some time, in quiet solitude. The memories were crossing my mind, reopening old scars, and I could only assume they were weighing heavily on Pizza's. Tarkov was a good soldier, he pulled my tail out of the fire (quite literally) back on Miridem. All that was left of that son of a bitch was our memories of him and his infamous drink, the War Cocktail.
        I snapped back to my senses when I heard the sound of a bolt lock back. I turned to face Pizza. He had just ejected his magazine, and had already pulled out a cleaning kit. I did the same to my Sniper Rifle, joining Pizza in basic weapon maintenance.
        We cleaned and cleaned, until there was absolutely nothing left to clear out of the guns. My Sniper Rifle was working like it was fresh from Misriah. My SMG was clean enough to shut up any drill instructor. Pizza had cleaned up his DMR and had his Rocket Launcher cycling smoothly. I holstered my SMG and was about to pick up my Sniper Rifle when I gave pause, hands on the gun.
        “Pizza, you know how some units customize their firearms with certain paint jobs?”
        “Yeah. Personally I've taken notice that soldiers who do that don't tend to leave those guns behind all that much. Something about it being 'theirs', I'd say.”
        “Well, you've had your DMR since Reach, right?”
        “Yeah, I just threw on a few bits and bobs every now and then to keep it up to snuff to its more modern counterparts. Why do you ask?”
        “I was thinking about naming this here Sniper Rifle. Its serial number even matches a rifle I had back on Requiem. I think it was when we were sent out after Parg Vol and wound up recovering a UNSC supply cache. The one with the tanks.”
        “Oh, yeah! That was a fun time. We shot down SO many Phantoms, I think those Covies just gave up and rage quit on us.”
        “Yeah, well. This is that same rifle. So, what do you think?”
        “What are you going to name it? 'Cause if it is anything like 'Mr. Pointy', I don't think it's going to fly.”
        “I was thinking... how about 'Strike Three'?”
        “Strike Three? As in ‘you’re out’?”
        “Yeah,” I held up a hand, counting off, “Strike one: Harvest, 2525. Strike two: Miridem, 2544. And Strike three: Arcadia, 2549. The three glassings I've survived.”
        “You're not counting Earth?”
        “That wasn't the whole planet, and I was only there for half of it, with the Ark and all that jazz. Plus, it was the Fleet of Retribution glassing it, the Sangheili separatists. And with the Flood, no one can blame them for what they did.”
        “So Strike Three it is.”
        And so it was, my Sniper Rifle had a name along with the Mighty Magnum. Between storytelling and gun cleaning, those three hours ticked by rather quickly. Before we knew it, our train was pulling into the station. The team regrouped and boarded. With the rest of the team around, we managed to settle into things a lot more easily... with the added tension of one of us being a traitor. A tension we couldn't let our faces betray. Thank god for polarized visors.

        When we finally disembarked in Canterlot, I waved for Pizza to get the team settled in the HQ. “I'll go and debrief the princesses on what's gone down,” I told him.
        I went right up to the castle. It felt strange now, like it had been years since I was last here. Nevertheless, I gave little more than a second of thought to that idea. I pressed forward. The sun had set, but twilight was still lighting the streets. The Night Guard had already taken to their shifts. They let me through unmolested, and I approached the princesses, both of whom were in their respective thrones.
        “Miladies, I need to debrief you on the recent events that occurred at Marecago, the Unicorn Range, Neighagra, the Marejave, and Trottingham. I'd recommend we get to this without delay, and without stray listeners.”
        “I'm ready to turn in for the day. Should we take this up to our chambers?” Celestia asked her sister.
        “I think so, sister. If we are concerned with stray ears, we should go some place much more quiet than our throne room,” came Luna's response.
        We went back behind the thrones, this time heading left. A pair of thestrals joined our formation, providing escort to the princesses. Luna and Celestia lead me up to what looked like a landing pad for pegasi. Celestia casually took off, but Luna loitered a little longer. She dropped one of her wings low. “Climb on, Joe. It is much faster to travel by air than to climb a hundred flights of stairs.”
        “Yes, ma'am,” I said, saddling myself onto the princess. Personally, I wish I still had my wings, but necessity called for otherwise. Without another word, Luna took off, accompanying her sister into the twilight sky. We were lazily spiraling upwards, heading towards one of the higher towers of the castle. I spotted more than a few rooms with open balconies, but we past many of them. It looked like we were headed towards the highest spire. There were two balconies, one on either side of it.
        I spotted a pair of thestrals standing guard on the balcony facing away from the city. A pair of Royal Guards, pegasi, were at the balcony overlooking the city. We were headed towards the latter. Celestia set down gently and Luna followed closely behind. The thestrals and the Royal Guards visibly tensed at seeing one another. The presence of both princesses probably staved off any squabble they would have had otherwise.
        With a wave of her hoof, Celestia had the Royal Guards dismissed. They took off into an aerial patrol route. Luna did the same, and her thestrals left as well. “Now, what is it you had to say about the battles?” Luna asked.
        “The battles are but a footnote for what is going on here. The Zebras were after something, and it looks like they found it. They pulled out of the fray at both Neighagra and Trottingham. I believe the forces they dedicated to the Marejave and the Unicorn range were merely to delay the rest of Equestria's forces. That being said, they may have been after something in Well-met, Stalliongrad, and the Frozen North. Is there anything there that they could be after? Remember, they chose all these targets for a reason. I need to know what links them.”
        “Well,” Celestia chimed in, “Neighagra, Well-met, and Trottingham are all very important trade cities.”
        “How does Stalliongrad and the Frozen North factor in?” I countered.
        “Potential avenues? They could just be a way to get what they need.” Luna pointed out.
        “Stalliongrad and the Frozen North were secured before the battles of Trottingham and Neighagra. The Zebras would not launch an attack with their supply lines severed, that would just be plain stupid.”
        “And yet you dismiss the idea, making it viable for an opponent.” Luna had a point.
        “Then where did their forces come from, and what were they after? We secured those points of entry long before the attacks actually occurred. If the Zebras did have their supply lines cut, they'd have attacked immediately, rather than have time whittle away at their resources and troops.”
        There was a pause for thought. Then Luna spoke, “What if their supplies were never cut to begin with, but their evac route locked down?”
        “You're saying we blocked their only way out? Possible, but then where did they get their supplies?”
        “Simple: the supplies were already here. A few Nightmare Nights ago, I met a Zebra in Ponyville, Zecora I believe her name was. She's been in Equestria for a long time, from far before the outbreak of war. The thing is, she lives in the Everfree Forest, and can even thrive there. It wouldn't be too incongruous to assume that other Zebras share a similar knowledge of plants to be able to survive, undetected, in a forest.”
        “So you want me to track down Zecora, and have her point me in the direction of the Zebra's main forces?”
        “No, not at all. She's a trusted friend of the Ministry Mares, and has proven herself loyal to Equestria thus far. I want you to talk to her. She knows Zebra culture better than anyone in Equestria, and might know why they attacked those cities. If you know the why of it all, you can break any enemy's will.”
        “You really believe I can trust this 'Zecora' figure?”
        “The Ministry Mares do.”
        “Alright, I'll check her out, but if I get a hint things are going wrong, I'm scuffing the mission. Which brings us to another reason why I needed to talk to you two alone. Do you remember that list of personnel you gave me to recruit?”
        “Yes, some of the best. Lockheart, Starfire, Daze, Pane, Solace, Liberator, Footfall, Keen Eye, Cupcake, and Heartstrings were all on the list, as I recall.”
        “Well, can you tell me where their personnel records are being kept? I need to get my hands on them without making a formal request.”
        “And why is that.”
        “Given what transpired in Trottingham, and the fight just outside our own HQ, I believe there is an enemy spy in the ranks of Crimson.”
        “But I double and triple checked all those ponies, how could one be a spy?”
        “Back in Cloudsdale, I codenamed the intelligence leak that got Liberator killed 'Chuck Finley'. Our HQ locale is known only to you, me, my team, and anyone who we tell directly. The Zebra infiltrators that attacked and almost killed Pizza were waiting for us there. Additionally, they mentioned the same codename as the leak. In Trottingham, I believe Chuck Finley had supplied some of the Zebra forces there. I found a UNSC detonator, and a member of my team, Keen Eye, went missing. It looks like he was taken. We pursued, but the trail ran cold.”
        “Do you remember who was with you in Cloudsdale?”
        “The team wasn't at 100% back then, but I think I had Starfire, Fencing, Pizza, Spectacles, and Lockheart with me then.”
        “Then I would start my searching there.”
        “The only problem though is that I have the team review previous operations, Cloudsdale included, for tactical analysis and plans of improvement. The only member on the team I know isn't Chuck Finley is Pizza.”
        Celestia spoke up, “Although you know, how do we know? I heard some time ago that it is good to keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.”
        “I've known Pizza for damn near my whole life. He wouldn't defect so easily. You would have to convince him that the best course of action for everyone was to betray his side. Regardless, he wouldn't hurt me. He's like a brother to me, and that road is two-way. He knows I'm fighting for Equestria, so he wouldn't fight against Equestria. Plus, the leak in Cloudsdale was around long before Pizza and I arrived. It checked out in Sunny Capony's ledger. Sunny was paying off their leak, but the payments were labeled as dead drops.”
        Luna spoke, “Then maybe you should talk to Capony. He's in the dungeon, your old cell.”
        “I think that what I'll do is try to follow the money. From there, I'll see if Zecora has any input on the situation. Then, I'll try to diffuse the threat of Chuck Finley, and maybe stop these intelligence leaks. Or... maybe I can get Chuck Finley as a double agent?”
        “A double agent?”
        “An espionage term for someone who is believed to be working for one nation's intelligence service, but in fact is working against it. Essentially the ultimate spy, capable of feeding info to your enemy that may or may not have them reinforce positions that aren't actually in any real danger. If we can get a double agent, Equestria will be one giant leap closer to winning this war.”
        “Then I advise you capture Chuck Finley, and coerce him to work for us.”
        “That may be easier said than done. I'll go check back into my team, and see if I can covertly review their service records. I'll compile the information and take what intel I have to the Shades. Luna, I'll need you to assemble an investigative team there. Officially, I'll be there to complete some thestral-specific training, like honing my enhanced senses.”
        “I will form the team myself. Did you have any particular rendezvous point in mind?”
        “I think that my house in the Shades would suffice.”
        Celestia interjected, “You have a house in the Shades?”
        “Yes, Luna provided me with a residence there day-one of me being a thestral. Seeing as the Zebras called me their version of a demon when they looked me in the eye, I don't think that they would ever work with the thestrals due to such religious reasoning.”
        “Are you sure of this?”
        “I've dealt with religious zealots before. They fought just as hard as any Covies I've faced in the past, and with just as much of an ardent passion. It was like they realized their only life goal was to kill me. As such, they rushed when they should have waited... zigged when they should have zagged.”
        “Then I wish you the best of luck in your investigation.”
        “We make our own luck,” I said as I walked over to the balcony. Without hesitation, I jumped over the edge. The thestrals that were out on patrol diverted to try and catch me, but before they could reach an intercept point, I activated my reentry thrusters. I landed light as a feather and began walking across the city towards the Shipping District. I glanced over my shoulder to see Luna taking to the skies and heading back for the landing pad that lead to the throne room.

        I arrived at the HQ, with the smell of cordite in the air, and gunshots ringing out from the range. Lyra was taking a few more shots at some of the evil traffic cones. I headed right back to the mess, unloading my weapons en route. I grabbed some hardtack and some honey. Not exactly the most delicious of food combos, but it would last an eternity.
        I started thinking about what to do next. Greetings could mean a lot when dealing with any Mafia members. Personally, I thought we put that stuff behind us back at Cloudsdale. I would also need to gain access to the royal archives if I wanted to view the personnel records of Crimson. I think I'd pay Sunny a visit sometime around midnight. If I knock out the guards, he would probably be scared about what I'd do to him. Or maybe I could exploit the close family organization of the Mafia by torturing Sunny in front of Al Capony? I'll call that Plan B.
        I heard a series of explosions from overhead, in the killhouse. Pizza was training them in EOD? It sounded like Spectacles was trying his hoof at it. I finished off my meal.
        I laid down across the bench of the lunch table, staring up at the ceiling. Things had gotten very big, very fast. I was always used to fighting the battles, but to see what connected them? That was a first, and it sounded more like ONI's business than my own. My knowledge of espionage only went as far as what books and movies would have someone believe. I hoped that was good enough.
        I heard a click from the range. It sounded like Lyra had finished her mag. I still had my weapons on me, maybe I should join her? I sat up. I'd need to kill some time anyway.
        I walked over to the range, casually gripping my SMG while I walked. Up close it was apparent Lyra was trying to dual wield using her magic. Her accuracy was lacking, but that was normal for dual wielding.
        “You know, dual wielding ain't a normal fighting tactic?”
        “Joe! Didn't hear you come in.”
        “Let me show you how Spartans handle multiple weapons. It might come in handy some day.”
        “Oh, sure. They're unloaded,” Lyra levitated her guns over to me. They were twin pistols, standard issue to the Equestrian military. 10mm. I grabbed one in each hand. They were a little more robust and bulky than any pistol I've handled before. They had lateral grips so they could be fired using one's mouth, given one was a pony. I had to hold them sideways to get a good grasp on them.
        I checked the chambers of the pistols, both were locked back and empty. I slapped a fresh mag from the table in each. The downside to holding these pistols at a 90 degree cant is that the casing are ejected vertically. Regardless, I leveled them down range and let a few rounds find a few cones.
        The recoil on these guns were light. I aimed at the farthest target. My HUD provided good crosshairs for hipfire accuracy, but not quite as good as a smart-link scope. A few rounds missed, but by the last shots, I was on target.
        “For being my first time with those weapons, I think I did alright,” I switched to my SMG, “Now I think it's time to rock and roll. How about a mad minute?”
        “Mad minute?”
        “Just fire as fast as you can down range. Great for relieving stress, like after a battle.”
        I grabbed a mag and counted down from three. We open fired on the traffic cones. My SMG spit out a 60 round magazine in no time, and Lyra seemed to smile a little as she zeroed in on some targets in rapid fire. I pity any cone that would stand in our way. Just as the last shot rang out, another explosion sounded from upstairs. My money was on Spectacles. Again.
        “How'd you fare in Trottingham?” I asked our medic.
        “It was a little daunting being alone in a hostile city, but the flyers helped with that a lot. I didn't see very many Zebras, but that sorta added to the feeling of trepidation that I had just walking through those war torn streets.”
        “I understand. It's one thing to be able to see the cause of your weariness, but to not see it is just plain terrifying sometimes. Imagine if you're walking through your home and you feel like you're being watched. As you journey through those dark halls in the pitch black of midnight, you turn. Behind you is a burglar! That there is horror, but let's say nothing was there. You could still hear footsteps, still feel like you're being watched. That is terror.”
        “So what causes terror, then?”
        “The fear of nothing. The most primal of fears. You fear nothing because you don't know whether or not if you should, so you do anyways to play it safe. Terror is the fear of something that is best described as nothing. Not being able to know where the threat is, or even what it is. Not being able to prepare, physically nor mentally. Eventually, you'll realize how to read a battlefield. That helps, but not to 100%. The 100% comes from knowing your enemy.”
        “And you know the Zebras?”
        “Not as much as I'd like. Analyzing them in combat and hearing tidbits about their culture leads me to compare them greatly to the Sangheili, a once-foe, now-friend that I had the opportunity to train beside. I know the Sangheili, and as such, I know most of what the Zebras are, but even that has limits. Later I plan on heading over to the archives to analyze all I can about the Zebras,” I handed Lyra a pair of extra mags, “I'll leave you to it. Practice is the best way to shoot accurately, once you have a good technique. Find what works for you.”
        I headed upstairs to check on the rest of the team. Another explosion blasted outwards, but it was still muffled. I rounded the corner and saw Spectacles. He was dripping with red paint. The rest of the team all had splatterings of paint on them, except for Pizza and Starfire.
        “Hey, Joe,” Pizza said, “I've just been trying to teach the team how to handle pressure-release explosives. Spectacles is still trying.”
        I turned to Spectacles, “Do you have a knife?”
        “No,” he said. I face palmed.
        “Well, you're going to need something to keep the plate depressed. Pizza, can you give me one of those mines?”
        “Sure,” he handed me the explosive device.
        “Now, with these explosives, they don't go boom when we step on them, but rather when you step off. If you step on one like this,” I planted my foot on the now-armed mine, “the mine is ready to go off. To prevent that, you need to fool it. You can't just replace your weight with a bag of rocks, this isn't Hollywood. What you need to do is engage the safeties of the mine, and check for anti-handling devices.”
        I crouched down, keeping weight on the foot that armed the mine. I felt around the edge of the disc for any AHDs (Anti-Handling Devices). Finding none, I drew my knife from my left vambrace. “No AHDs marks a sloppy sapper, and you shouldn't be too worried of clever explosives if that is the case, unless if there is more than one sapper. Just keep the pressure plate depressed, and the mine won't know the difference. I like to try and replace the safety pin.” I lowered my knife down, just below the pressure plate, and move it in towards the center slowly. Handling mines isn't something I've done in a long while, but it was like riding a bike.
        I felt my knife slide into a slot. Fingers crossed, I stepped of the mine. Bomb disarmed! I let out a shallow breath. “Now, it's best not to step on the mine in the first place, because you'll probably lose a perfectly good knife doing so. But then again, there are other options to disarm it, aren't there, Starfire?”
        Starfire looked at me with a slight head tilt, and a coy smile. With a wing, she drew out a bobby pin from her mane. “Bobby pins a quite effective at holding back one's hair, picking locks, and disarming mines. I always carry more than I need; they weigh next to nothing and don't take up much room,” she said.
        “Anything like a small pin, including the very tip of a knife, can be used to engage the safety mechanisms on a mine. Not every mine out there will have a pressure-release device; some may have a proximity sensor, or a contact plate. For those, avoid them whenever possible. AT mines are another story, and unless you weigh over 250 pounds, you shouldn't worry about them,” I concluded.
        I let the team go back to trying to diffuse the paint mines Pizza had rigged. I started thinking, studying how various members of Crimson went about their disarms. I might even be able to have our training programs force Chuck Finley into the open, but I'd have to be careful about it. I don't know much about Zebras aside from offhand information the princesses gave me, my combat experience with them, and and my impromptu dissection of one. I needed to talk about it to Zecora to learn more, if she proves to be a reliable source.
        I left Crimson training, reloading my SMG and Sniper Rifle before heading out into the Canterlot streets. Thestral air patrols had picked up as night had fallen. I made my way over to the Ministry of Peace. I needed to have a conversation with a Ministry Mare about a particularly potent potion.
        I found it odd that the whole ministry building was modeled after a giant tree, but I have seen odder fighting the Covenant. I walked up to the receptionist. “I need to see Fluttershy on some matters pertaining to the war effort. It involves the Crimson Guard,” I told her. Without a word, the receptionist worked a few buttons on what looked like the most archaic terminal I've ever seen. Those were new.
        “You can go right on up. Big double doors, can't miss it. Better make it quick though, the ministry visiting hours are almost over,” she said.
        If the ministries were supposed to spearhead the war effort, I think they'd need better security. Regardless, it looked like I was going to get the audience I requested. I walked down the halls and pushed open the double doors. Inside was a wide variety of small animals meandering about unabated. Behind a desk in the middle of the room was a butter colored pegasus mare with pink hair. In front of the desk was an orange mare in a stetson. On the desk, was a rather stern-looking white bunny rabbit. He seemed to be assessing me. I locked gazes with him, until he diverted his attention back to the orange mare.
        I walked up to the mares, who fell quiet at my approach. The rabbit seemed to get tense. I'd have to keep my eye on him. “Fluttershy? I'm Lieutenant Joe of the Crimson Guard,” I depolarized my visor.
        “H... hello.” It looked like she was trying to hide behind her mane. The orange mare got up and moved behind the desk, placing a hoof over her shoulder. The white rabbit seemed to not mind this at all, never breaking his focus on me.
        “What I'm about to tell you is classified tier-one. Are you sure the present company is cleared for it?” I had a feeling this orange mare may be a good friend of Fluttershy's, judging by the white rabbit.
        “Ah'm cleared. Ah run tha Ministry of Technology, after all,” the orange mare said. She must be Applejack, then.
        I glanced back at the doors, double checking they were closed. I took a seat and leaned in towards the two. Applejack had since taken her hoof off of Fluttershy. The rabbit tensed some more, ready for action.
        I whispered, “During the battle of Trottingham, a soldier gave me this flask, telling me to drink it all,” I held up the flask of the purple stuff that seemed to work wonders on stab wounds. “Of course, I left a little behind. I was hoping you could analyze what it is, because I was mortally wounded until I took it. What is in this vial has substantial healing properties the likes of which I've never seen before,” I placed the vial on the desk. The rabbit was quick to snatch it, eyeing it closely. He shot a handful of looks my way, before handing it over to Fluttershy.
        Fluttershy seemed to settle in to my presence a bit more, relaxing a little. This was reflected in the rabbit, though almost imperceptibly so. “A healing potion? Those are common enough, but only for scrapes and bruises. If this can do what you describe, it must be significantly more powerful than any previous potion made. Who gave it to you, if you don't mind me asking?”
        “He called himself Buckshot, but he looked far too young to be a regular. I think he was a civvie in armor, but his eyes said anything but.”
        “Speakin' of armor, what kinda fancy shmancy suit ya got on there?” Applejack asked.
        “Mjolnir MkVI Gen2 Powered Assault Armor. Air Assault helmet, Stalker breastplate, Soldier pauldrons, and Contoured vambraces and greaves, with Legendary visor. The Crimson Guard have been testing some power armor variants for equine use, and to great effect. I believe Spectacles should have been sending you his designs.”
        “Ah remember hearin' that name around the office a lot lately. He does good work.”
        “He ain't much of a fighter, so I'm trying to keep him off the front. Developing this tech is a good enough incentive to keep him home in most situations.”
        “And the other situations?”
        “He goes in guns blazing, gets shot to high hell like the rest of us, and we all end up sharing a drink over it in the end.”
        “Must be some pretty good armor, huh?”
        “Yeah, it can block .308 rounds for days. But like with any power armor, there are going to be several problems along its development. More recent models make more efficient use of its power supply and enhances servo sensitivity. I still think strength amplification needs to be more of a priority, but that's more of a stretch goal.”
        “And how does your armor handle those problems?”
        Applejack seemed really interested in my armor, or even the topic of power armor quite a bit. “My armor uses a micro-scale fusion reactor to generate enough power to provide sufficient energy output for 60 years. I've only had my armor for a year or two now, so I'd don't need to recharge anytime soon.”
        “Huh, that sounds like one heck of an armor system. Sorry about distractin' ya from that healin' potion ya got there. Where did ya leave off on that?”
        “I believe I was about to ask if Fluttershy could get this potion in full production. It could save thousands of lives for years to come,” I turned to face Fluttershy. She seemed to perk up and the idea of saving lives en masse.
        “I'll see if any of Twilight's ponies can take a look at it. Thank you, Joe.”
        “If it gets into production, I should be thanking you,” I stood and started walking out of the room. The rabbit eased at my leaving, but Applejack tagged along.
        “Where'd Spectacles come up with his designs?” she asked,
        “For the armor? I caught him trying to steal it from classified documents. I instead directed him to files that had a lot less black ink. Not quite the same as Mjolnir PAA, but a well-tested and proven design regardless.”
        “Where exactly does your armor come from? It seems rather exotic to me,” she followed me out of the ministry building.
        I looked up at the stars. I pointed to one that looked rather familiar, “Buffalo Breaker Yards, just outside Abilene, Texas, at Sol-III. That's where my helmet and breastplate were tested and made by Naphtali Contractor Corporation.” I pointed at another star, “My pauldrons were tested and made at the Damascus Testing Facility in Vhalkem, on Chi Ceti IV by the Materials Group.” A third star, “And my greaves and vambraces originate from the Lethbridge Combat Fields in Lethbridge, Corsica, on Concord. They were made by Lethbridge Industrial.”
        “Wow... and here Ah thought that Stalliongrad steel was far off...”
        “It ain't that far, just a few hundred light years away. I guess being in the UNSC gives you a new idea of what 'large-scale' really means. Regardless, do you mind me asking why you've been digging for info on power armor?”
        “Well, ya got me... I was hopin' some better armor could keep our boys alive a while longer, hopefully until wars' end.”
        “That's an arms race for you: measure and countermeasure. Mjolnir ain't what you want to look at, though. It was specialized later in the Human-Covenant War to be resilient to plasma and laser damage more than bullets and bombs. As such, it can easily ablate heat, has a plasma shield, and EMP resistance. In fact, Covenant weapons often release ionizing radiation, so Mjolnir was optimized against that as well, though a bit later in the war. All Gen2 armors have those mods standard on it.”
        “And you're wearin' all o' that?”
        “Yeah, and a little bit more, but some of that stuff is classified. The weight caps out at about a thousand pounds, including the user. You'd need to get clearance from ONI or the Materials Group for more information. See you starside,” I broke off down an alleyway, headed towards the dungeon. I needed to talk to Sunny Capony.
        There was a guard outside, and he seemed tired, judging by the yawning. I grabbed my SMG. If I wanted Sunny Capony to believe that I am a whole lot worse than the Zebras, I'd have to prove it. I moved in from the side, going unnoticed by the guard. I'd need to take him down, but I didn't want to kill him. I snuck up on his left side. He let out a yawn.
        I tapped him on the shoulder. He groggily looked my way. I swept the SMG's butt from right to left across his face, then reversed the motion. I finally hit him with one final upward swipe, laying the guard out on the ground in his shiny golden armor. Blood was coming from his face, but I was gentle enough to leave him breathing. He wouldn't be getting up anytime soon, so I went into the old dungeon.
        “It's rather damp in here. Hope it ain't doing too much against your health. I want to enjoy this,” I said as I descended the stairs, looking at Sunny Capony in his lonely cell.
        “You! Why are you here? You ain't gettin' nothin' from me!” he said.
        I brought up my Silenced SMG and fired a single round into his leg. “You and your daddy's boys were a real pain in my ass back in Cloudsdale. What makes you think I'm here for intel? I'm just here to have some fun,” I punctuated that last line with another round to the same leg. He screamed again, but this time with more sobbing.
        “You're a psycho! You hear me, a psycho!”
        “Please, Spartans show no signs of psychopathy. Rather, the best of us show mild sociopathic behavior,” I landed a three round burst into his other foreleg. I made sure these shots were just flesh wounds. “Did I mention how my fireteam was regarded as one of the best?” I put another round into his leg, stacked atop the first hole.
        “Guard! Help, there's a psycho in here! HELP!” he yelled.
        I shot one of his hind legs, “The term is 'sociopath', okay? The guard outside was easy enough to handle. By the way, these are 60 round magazines. Pretty nice for long, drawn-out combat... or pleasure in doling out punishment,” I fired a barrage into his last good leg. He was writhing in a corner in his cell.
        “What do you want from me? Please, just stop!”
        “What I want is simple: revenge. You did wrong by me back in Cloudsdale, funding every gangster that you did. Come to think of it, the only others out there that did a greater wrong to me was the Covenant and the Zebras. Both of them waged war against me, but I'll take whatever win I can,” I fired five more rounds into his least damaged hind leg. He was done with the whole “screaming” part, and was now just sobbing.
        “Aww, no screams left?” I began, “Damn, and I was expecting to go all night here. Might as well wrap this up. I'm sure the other mobsters from Cloudsdale and Marecago are around here somewhere...” I swapped to a fresh mag for emphasis, “Maybe I should give Al a visit?”
        “Wait! Please, wait... You said the Zebras did a worse wrong to you than I did?”
        “Yeah, but they're not here, now are they?” I racked a round into the chamber.
        “They are! They are... The Zebras have a spy, from Cloudsdale. That spy wanted us to run interference for them, keep the princesses distracted. In turn, the spy told us where all the good loot was.”
        There was a pregnant pause. “You do realize my not killing you is because I'm interested in what you have to say, right?”
        He continued immediately, “The spy told us about Liberator. His investigation was military, looking into some weapons shipments we intercepted. Our contacts in the CPD never heard of such an investigation, but it checked out. The EAF asked the CPD to halt all Mafia investigations.”
        “Yeah, I already know all that. What I'm interested in is this spy. Liberator would be in my team if it wasn't for him.”
        “All I know is that this spy spent some time in Zebra military training. Some of our boys crossed the spy, and it was nasty. We found parts of them in three different counties. I never saw the guy, he always used dead drops to give us intel and to receive payment.”
        “How much did you pay him?”
        “A few thousand bits per dead drop. The boys that crossed him didn't pay him the stated amount.”
        “Stated amount? Can I see this statement?”
        “It's at Dodge Junction. I'm not sure why he had us make all of those drops so far and wide...”
        The blood was pooling beneath him. It wasn't much, but it was concerning. I needed to wrap this up nonchalantly. “Your ledger mentioned a locale in Dodge, amongst other places. Is it at that building?”
        “He stuffed the dead drop into the insulation in the attic. The Ministry of Morale might have missed it, but they will find it unless if you hurry.”
        “I'll be sure to do that. Thank you for your cooperation. Before I go, let me remind you that if I come back here not thinking too highly of you, I won't be so superficial with my aim. Now, is there anything you'd like to add?”
        “Dad might know more, I just handled the payments. Please, go easy on him.”
        “Let's call that Plan C.”
        “And Plan B?”
        I simply checked the mag on the SMG. He gulped back his fright. I reinserted the magazine and headed up the stairs. I found the nearest thestral on patrol and walked up to him. “I think someone's bleeding in there,” I said, pointing at the dungeon. He chuckled a little seeing the Royal Guard out cold, but headed in without delay.
        I quickly made my way back to Crimson HQ. The explosions had subsided. Apparently Spectacles had improved his game. I caught Pizza on his way down from the killhouse. “Joe, nice to see you again.”
        “Same here, Pizza. I've just got a new lead in Dodge Junction, so you'll need to keep Crimson training for a while longer. The official story is I'm completing my thestral training. I'll also need you to follow me for a bit. We need to see Dr. Aegis.”
        “Is this about that stolen rifle prototype?”
        “That's the half of it, make sure you grab it.”
        “And the other half?”
        “I need to study up on Griffin culture.”
        “I see. You know, you're about the only Spartan who will actually study not only his opponent, but also their culture, religion and psyche. Why is that?”
        “They said 'know your enemy' in OCS, I guess I took it to heart. Turned out for the better in the long run, huh?”
        “You know it.”
        I walked toward the back of the HQ, and boarded a Mongoose. “Hop on. We'll take this to Aegis, then I'll head straight to Dodge Junction afterwards. You'll hoof it back here and get the team training some more. I'll keep you posted about any developments.”
        “Copy that, Joe. Let's drive to the castle!” Pizza said as he climbed aboard the Mongoose's passenger seat. The engine roared to life, and we were headed straight out the front door. In moments, we were back in the Canterlot streets. I went towards the castle, and the thestrals seemed somewhat confused at what to do with an ATV driving into the throne room. I honked the horn plenty of times to get any bystanders out of the way.
        “Hi Luna, bye Luna!” I said as we drove between the thrones, heading up the stairs before she could even turn her head to try and figure out what was going on.
        We made our way atop the stairs, and dismounted before heading into the Nerve Center. The thestrals on guard merely nodded as we approached. “Aegis! You in here?” I yelled out, only for the griffin to land in front of me.
        “Yeah, Joe. Need anything?”
        “In Marecago we recovered this prototype rifle, and we'd like to know more about it. Also, is there anything you could tell me to explain why a griffin was in possession of such a gun?”
        “Oh, this thing is a beauty! And that griffin... he was probably doing some contract work or something. All griffins have this code of honor that has us bound to various contracts. It's a culture thing that has been around for thousands of years. I'm actually under a contract from Celestia to research various technologies to forward Equestria. The termination of that contract is entirely up to Celestia.”
        “So griffins are honor-bound to whatever contract they sign off on?”
        “That is correct. Any griffin that breaks their contract (and there a very few who do) isn't really considered a griffin amongst griffins after that point. Honoring the contract is a cornerstone of our culture.”
        “So if this griffin was contracted by a mercenary company, like Talon, they would sooner die than fail their contract?”
        “Yes, but if the merc is from Talon, you've got bigger problems. Talon is one of the biggest griffin contracting corporations out there, and almost all of their profits are blood money. I'm amazed they even still get representation in the Griffin Kingdoms.”
        “Griffin Kingdoms? As in plural?”
        “Yes, the various kingdoms operate independently, but govern one another in a Senate of the Kings. It helps make sure no one griffin kingdom takes on contract work that's up another's alley. Talon is almost exclusively mercenary and related services, and is generally frowned upon in the Senate of the Kings. Other kingdoms focus on other endeavors, like science, agriculture, and even archaeology.”
        “So Talon's bad business unless if you're holding their contract?”
        “Yeah, pretty much.”
        “And what can you tell me about that prototype?”
        “Hmm... this isn't a project I worked on. Hey do any of you guys know what this thing is?” Aegis asked the swarm of eggheads behind him. They only paused a second to look at the weapon before returning to their work. “Sorry, but it doesn't look like it was developed here. You might want to talk to the MWT or MAS about this. I hear they have their own teams dedicated towards weapons research.”
        “Pizza, you think you can handle that?” I turned to my Spartan friend, handing back the AER-1 prototype.
        “I've got it, Joe. See you later, then?”
        “Affirmative on that one. Catch you later.” I hopped onto the Mongoose again and immediately sped off. I would probably need to rearm in case if things escalated at Dodge. I set course for the Whitetail.

        Some time passed before I found myself at the old LZ again. I opened up the door and drove the Mongoose inside. Things were still dark, but VISR helped significantly. I parked the Mongoose by the entrance and went back to the cached weapons. Dodge Junction was even further away, so I was looking at several days from the nearest resupply. I'd need to load heavy.
        I grabbed a rucksack from amongst the crates and dumped out its contents. I tossed in the dossiers that we had on all current members of Crimson. Next, I cracked open a weapon crate and started loading my gear. I took the Mighty Magnum and placed it on my left hip holster. I grabbed my Energy Sword that I was awarded on Sanghelios and placed it on the opposite holster. My twin SMGs went on the lower back holsters. A belt of grenades went around my waist, all of our remaining frags on it (six in total).
        It looked like I had mid range and close quarters down, but I'd need something for longer range. I grabbed a DMR for added measure. Not quite like Strike Three, but it could last a while in a fight. I loaded up the rucksack with as much ammo as I could muster for my chosen weapons. Mjolnir started giving me a weight limit warning, as though I was carrying a dismounted turret. I sat down and re-tuned my armor with the Gunner Package. The warning went away and I could move around without hindrance. Great.
        Next, I would need a good Armor Ability. Thruster Pack hadn't done me wrong, but the rucksack would block its thrusters. I instead grabbed the Hologram ability. It would work great to confuse or distract any hostiles. I made sure that I had the Mobility package on my armor as well before I mounted up and set course for Dodge Junction. Time to find out who Chuck Finley really is.

        On the lengthy drive over I started tallying up everything I knew about Chuck Finley. Apparently he was the leak back in Cloudsdale, and managed to catch Liberator before he could catch Finley. So that meant Chuck Finley was involved in the CPD in some way, possibly a contact. I had also somehow wound up recruiting Chuck Finley into my team, but I had only seen a handful actually strut their stuff. Finley would probably have Zebra training, and given their lethal close quarters combat, that makes Fencing our lead suspect. He also had ties to Dodge Junction, and is a pegasus. But there isn't any incontestable evidence to suggest he is Finley.
        So that leaves our lead suspects as Fencing (due to his CQC training), Starfire and Lockheart (due to their previous deployment in Cloudsdale). But I'd need solid evidence if I wanted to out Chuck Finley without having everyone on my team turn against me. I did have that UNSC detonator and Keen Eye's dog tags. That fireball in Trottingham would suggest it could have been Starfire, but Footfall had eyes on her the whole time. It looks like I have nothing but a dead Zebra's testimony to suggest Chuck Finley even exists.
        I gunned it the rest of the way to Dodge Junction, it was a long drive East. If that intel falls in the hands of the MoM, who knows how many rats are in their ranks?

        I followed the train tracks until Dodge Junction came into view. I brought up a local map on my HUD and marked the house I needed to investigate. The town itself was sparsely populated, there wasn't more than a couple dozen homes here. I moved the Mongoose in front of the building I needed to get in, and sure enough, crime scene tape marked off the entrance. A few sets of wayward eyes found themselves on me, but I didn't pay them any more than a glance in return.
        I racked a round into my DMR before kicking down the door and walking through the tape. Sunny Capony said it'd be in the insulation in the attic, so I went room to room until I found a way up. The stairs dropped down as I pulled on the string. I kept my rifle ready. I didn't exactly trust a mobster's word all that much, and could very well be walking into an ambush. I sent my hologram up ahead of me.
        He made it to the top of the stairs and stood still before dissipating. It looked like it was clear. Motion Sensor was blank. I moved up slowly. As soon as my head crested the top of the stairs, I spun 360 to check out the rest of the attic. It was empty, didn't even have flooring, like it was going through a renovation when the MoM cracked down on it. I set down my DMR, not being able to sling it onto my back, and began sifting through the insulation. It took a while before I found a note.
        It was a request for information on the Crimson Guard, and its technology. The first time I mentioned Crimson Guard was after the attack on the first warehouse in Cloudsdale, so that gives this note a date. It also eliminates Lockheart and Starfire from the list of suspects, along with Spectacles and Fencing. It looked like that was all I was going to get from here.
        I grabbed my DMR and headed back outside. Some local police had arrived, so I mounted up and got the hell out of Dodge before they could do anything about it.

        I couldn't return to Canterlot, not yet at least. I cruised right back to the Whitetail LZ and parked the Mongoose in the secondary base. While I was down below, I checked our supplies to see if we had a spare sling laying around for me to use on my DMR. I was coming up empty on that search, so I checked on any captured munitions we had. Apparently the Covenant weren't fans of slings either. I decided to call it quits and headed back topside.
        Next I began searching for the entrance to the Shades. I found the familiar tree and waited a second. “What is the password!” a voice yelled at me, seeming to come from all directions at once.
        “Nocte est eternum,” I responded.
        Immediately, the local foliage shifted around and what was once several bushes and shrubs turned out to be a full platoon of heavily armed Night Guards. One of the guards walked over and opened a hatch that was just as well concealed. I walked in without hesitation and heard the hatch close behind me. I followed my senses through the tunnel, following even the faintest of hints until I came upon a door some distance later.
        I opened it up and walked inside the underground city. It had been a while since I had last been here, and I was a little foggy on the whereabouts of things. I did remember one thing though: my house was the one without any decorations on it. Every other building seemed to be decorated for Halloween or the Equestrian equivalent of it.
        Finding my way to my barren abode, I placed my hand on the biometric lock and heard a distinctive click. I gave the door a gentle push and it opened right up. Inside was nothing. Not even furniture, not even the kitchen sink. It looked like I would have to get some hardware for this place.
        “Joe, didn't expect to see you here!” Luna was looking at me through my open front door.
        “I needed a place to operate from while I pursued Chuck Finley. Figured this would do nicely, especially if I wind up picking up a tail.”
        “Well, it looks like you're going to have to do some shopping for some of the more basic amenities.”
        “Shopping? With what money? Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever received a single paycheck ever since I started working alongside Equestria here, and Credits aren't accepted locally.”
        “I will see if I can establish a line of credit for you and your team to spend however you see fit. Also, the Shades' economy operates very differently than Equestria's, with it being an isolated community and all. All that you have to do is file a request for the desired item, and you will receive the ration chits to get once you are cleared for the item. Extensive dossiers are kept on all Lunar Guards in the record hall here in the Shades because of this.”
        “So everything is free, just it gets given to those who need it most first?”
        “That is correct. I would check your mailbox, it should have some ration chits for some of the more basic amenities that a household should have. Also, with Nightmare Night approaching, decoration ration chits are being handed out quite frequently. You should be able to get some of those with ease.”
        “Also, Luna, I'm not exactly a lone wolf type of Spartan. Are there any thestrals down here that are available for some clandestine operations? I could use some help tracking Chuck Finley.”
        “I will see if there are any available.”
        “And one more thing: I'll be giving you status updates via my dreams. It seems as though it is the most secure form of communications we've got. Just remind me to give you the update whenever you find me snoozing.”
        “That is standard procedure for long-range patrols and high-profile operations. I guess great minds think alike.”

        Luna left me to my own devices as I figured out a shopping list. It wasn't long until I had my ration chits (plus the decoration chits) and was en route to Quarter Masters to get some things. I quickly selected what I needed and reconnoitered what else was in stock before taking everything back home. Lucky for me Quarter Masters has a free installation policy for such goods. While they were doing that, I figured it'd be best for me to see who was available for temporary reassignment.
        I went to the training fields. “The Dirt” is what it was called, judging by the tattered wooden sign. I watched the thestrals grapple and spare with one another, each giving it their all. There was about a dozen soldiers here, each in a fighting pair. The thestrals seemed to move silently and with precision. Each blow that they landed I at first thought was intended to be lethal, but upon closer inspection I found that they were modifying their strikes moments before hitting.
        On occasion I saw one draw blood, but nobody seemed to notice it. It seemed as though it was commonplace. Eventually, a platoon of thestrals came marching by, and joined up in pairs. Their lieutenant, left unpaired, was moving from pair to pair. From time to time, he'd stop them, mid attack, and point out the most minute mistakes I've ever seen before having them resume. He had a very sharp eye, and leading these thestrals suggested he had a sharp wit, too.
        Eventually, he settled in and grew satisfied with the Lunar Guard's combat routines. He found his way over to me. “Looking for somepony to fight? Or just looking for some recruits to adopt for your little unit?” he had a gravelly texture to his voice.
        “Hoping to find a couple good soldiers for a little assignment I was given. Any recommendations?” I didn't take my eyes off the sparring pairs.
        “Night Bloom! Nocturne! Get over here!” he barked. Immediately, one of the pairs untangled themselves and rushed over to their grizzled officer. The stood at attention, and remained unflinching.
        “These two your recommendations?” I asked.
        “They're jack-of-all-trades warriors in my book. Pitiful excuse for not being the best, but they should fare you well, regardless of the assignment.”
        “And what makes you say that?”
        “They've been through my training, and aren't in the hospital.”
        I looked back at the Lunar Guards. They were in the standard purple plate armor of the Lunar Guard, but they also had overstuffed saddlebags hanging off either side. It looked like they were carrying over 300 pounds of equipment each. The two looked very much alike, both with a slate grey coat and dark blue mane. One, a stallion, had his mane cut short and had noticeable scars all over his face. Behind his slit, amber eyes, I could tell he was a cheerful spirit.
        For the other one, a mare, her gaze said she was more irritated and harsh at her core, but she seemed a little relaxed. It was as though something comforting was near her. Her mane looked as if it might be violating UNSC regulations. She had just as many scars as the stallion, but not nearly as many on her face.
        “What makes these two special?” I asked. I had seen them sparring, and they were good. The million Credit question was if they were Spartan good.
        “They seem to have some sort of precognition going on betwixt them. I think it's a twin thing.”
        I turned to the recruits, “You're siblings?”
        “Yes, sir,” they responded in tandem. Guess that answers that.
        “There's one thing I want you to do for me first,” I dropped my rucksack and weapons, then held up my fists, “You think you can handle a Spartan?”
        They passed one another a look, then turned to their CO. He nodded, and they lunged at me. Fighting is typically the fastest way to learn a lot about who you're fighting against.
        One went low, and another went high. I jumped right to avoid it, and spun around to stay facing them. The stallion, Nocturne, rolled onto his hooves. His sister rolled, but launched herself off of Nocturne instead of landing. I stepped left and struck her with my left forearm. Nocturne moved in as his sister maneuvered around my strike.
        He swept my legs as Night Bloom was bringing her elbow on top of me. I tucked in my legs and bucked Night Bloom away with enough force to flip a Warthog. Unfortunately Nocturne finished what his sister couldn't, and I took a nasty blow to the face. I managed to roll away from Nocturne, but that put me between the two of them. I saw a contact on my radar move around me, Night Bloom, I'd take it. I heard a whoosh of wind and the contact started moving in quickly, I deployed my hologram and backpedaled away from it. It march forward without a clue, and the contact pursued it, Nocturne diverting to me.
        He tried to close the distance but not before I planted a roundhouse kick upside his head. Night Bloom went crashing through my hologram, and after a brief moment of confusion diverted her attacks back to me. She charged, down low this time. I jumped high to avoid it, but she stopped short and changed direction right towards me. I brought up my arms to block, and she hit me hard. I came crashing back down to the hard ground.
        I rolled to my feet, remaining in a crouched position, ready to strike. A contact appeared on my left moments before something smashed into the back of my head from that general direction. I landed face first on the ground, so I rolled right to try to get face up. Night Bloom had continued with her aerial assault and was charging down at me again. I had little choice but to bring my legs to bear and try to keep track of Nocturne.
        I pressed the attack on Night Bloom, forcing her to block my mad kicks. A contact popped up on my six o'clock. I cast a glance in that direction, and saw Nocturne readying a haymaker. I rolled off my back and onto my shoulders, then lifted myself into a handstand so that I could keep Night Bloom occupied for a short while with one leg as I surprised Nocturne with the other.
        Nocturne never saw the kick coming, but Night Bloom then had her opening. She went in for a strike on a rather sensitive part of male anatomy, but instinct took over and I cartwheeled to the right, dodging the attack and getting back on my feet. Before Night Bloom could do much more, I hit her with an open-palmed strike to the side of her face. The blow stunned her.
        Nocturne had picked himself up off the ground by then and charged me. I dropped my stance as if I were going to brace against the tackle, but at the last moment I lunged upwards and brought me knee into his jaw. Judging from how much my right knee hurt, he couldn't be faring too well. Night Bloom had maneuvered behind me and latched onto my back.
        She was trying desperately to land several blows to my head, but I tilted my head forward, away from her reach. I then returned the favor by landing several elbows to the sides of her head. When it looked like my blows were getting through to her, I jumped into the air and spun around, bringing the weight of Mjolnir on top of her. I rolled off of her and onto my feet, but I was the only one standing now.
        “You two done yet?” I asked the downed thestrals.
        Nocturne lifted himself up off the ground and shook his head, trying to clear it. “Just about. Where did you learn to fight like that, sir?”
        “Good, 'cause I don't think I could keep that up much longer. I picked that stuff up at Miridem, Reach, Earth and Sanghelios, and then I just sort of blended the techniques together. Is your sister alright?”
        Nocturne lifted her off the ground. She was breathing, but was definitely out of it. I guess having a thousand pounds dropped from ten feet onto you can do that. “Sir, she'll be fine... in a week... or two.”
        “You two also managed to sneak up on me from time to time in that fight. I take you're both very adept at stealth?”
        “Thank you, sir. We train very hard at stealth,” Nocturne started carrying his sister over to a field medic tent, only it looked more like a longhouse. Injuries must be very common when sparring here. The grizzled officer followed us inside.
        A nurse inside glanced at us, then handed Nocturne a bottle of pills, “Bed 63,” she said, then returned to her other patients. There were bunks on our left, and regular beds on our right. It looked like the ones on the right were reserved for the more serious injuries, and they were all even-numbered. We went back some ways and Nocturne set his sister on Bed 63, lower bunk.
        “I think I'll take 'em,” I told the officer.
        “That you will, then... I never did catch your name. I'm Lieutenant Iron Sides.”
        “I'm Lieutenant Joe of the United Nations Space Command, currently serving as acting Captain of the Crimson Guard.”
        “Well, Joe, they're all yours then,” Iron Sides patted me on the side and shuffled out of the field hospital.
        “So, Nocturne, what's your story? How'd you and your sister end up here, if you don't mind my inquiry?”
        “We were on our own for as long as I can remember, sir. One night, we decided to wander the Whitetail at night, and found our way here. We haven't been outside that much since.”
        I nodded in appreciation of the shared story, but it seemed as though there was more to his story than he was telling me. He would probably tell me when he was ready, I have a feeling the rest of his tale may be much more severe than what he said. “Well, when she comes to, rendezvous with me at my home, it's the house that’s still bare. We have a lot on the table.”
        I left the two there as Nocturne started popping some pills. A few minutes passed before I found my way to my house and I began the descent to the basement. Again it was barren, so I decided to turn this room into a Combat Information Center. I moved some pedestals I had requisitioned down here, ten in total. I then sorted through my rucksack, pulling out all of the team dossiers, excluding myself and Pizza's dossiers. I placed each one on a pedestal.
        I moved a table from the living room down into the center of the room. The pedestals were poised on opposite walls, five per wall. The stairs leading up were against the back wall, and that left one wall unadorned. On the table I placed the UNSC detonator, and the document I recovered from Dodge Junction. On Keen Eye's pedestal, I placed his dog tags.
        I looked over at the evidence we had recovered. One piece of busted equipment and a piece of paper. That is all the hard evidence we had on Chuck Finley. He would be a slippery son of a bitch to catch. I would probably still have a few minutes before Nocturne and Night Bloom showed up. I headed out to see if I could find a large map of Equestria, thumbtacks, and plenty of yarn. I still had some amenity chits left over, and the decoration chits could probably cover the yarn.

        When all was said and done, I had the map mounted to the previously unadorned wall. I put the thumbtacks into the various locations Crimson has been and connected them with red yard. I used gold yarn to track confirmed locations that Chuck Finley was at, or involved with. There was some consistency, but it wasn't absolute. I needed more heads in on this, with more evidence on the table, in order to figure out who Chuck Finley was.
        There was a knock on my door upstairs, so I ascended from the depths and let in Nocturne and Night Bloom. “Follow me,” I told them, before heading back down to the basement. “This mission is classified tier-one. Here we have dossiers on all the members of Crimson placed atop each member's pedestal. On the center table is all the evidence accrued against priority target codename: Chuck Finley. All that we know about Chuck Finley, is that he or she is embedded with the Crimson Guard, a minor snafu during recruitment. Our mission, is to find out who he is, and take him down. Any questions?”
        “No, sir,” the two responded.
        “Then let's get to work. This document here was recovered a few hours ago from Dodge Junction. It indicates Chuck Finley requested more information on the Crimson Guard. The information requested, all members of the Crimson Guard are privy to, indicating this request is older than Chuck Finley's membership. Chuck Finley is known to have been recruited into Crimson, due to the plotting of an ambush at Crimson Headquarters, a classified location. The name 'Crimson Guard' was not coined until after the initial raid on a Mafia-controlled warehouse, meaning Chuck Finley was not recruited or even aware of Crimson until after such an incident. Prior to the Crimson Guard, Chuck Finley had some degree of involvement in the EAF, enough to know of a Master Sergeant Liberator's investigation into a potential information leak in the Cloudsdale Police Department. That leak is now suspected to be Chuck Finley.
        “The only suspects that can be eliminated are: myself, Ensign Pizza, Spectacles, Private Fencing, Corporal Starfire, and Colonel Lockheart. They were known members of Crimson prior to the christening of the group. It should be of note that Technician Fifth Grade Keen Eye was captured at Trottingham, Chuck Finley being the lead suspect, the Zebras being the captors.”
        “What do you want us to do, sir?” Nocturne asked.
        “First thing: stop calling me 'sir', our pay grades don't determine our effectiveness here. Second: we need to acquire incontestable evidence to indicate who Chuck Finley is, then once we have a positive, verified ID on him, we kill the bastard. Equestria's legal system will not be involved in this investigation, unless if absolutely necessary.”
        “So, we've managed to eliminate five suspects from the list, but that leaves seven still on the table. How do you think we'll get any more intel on Chuck Finley?” Night Bloom asked.
        “Pizza is a close friend of mine and second-in-command of Crimson, under me. We're going to have to sabotage Crimson in order to route out Chuck Finley, and Pizza will help us from the inside. Officially, I'm here to brush up on my thestral training. No one knows how long that will take, so we've got plenty of time. Princess Luna will provide assistance as necessary.”
        “So you want to send Crimson into a trap, spring it, and see who reacts like a Zebra?” Nocturne asked.
        “Roughly. It can't be a trap, through. Crimson would recognize it, and so would Finley. I think we'll have to force Finley's hand on this. We'll need to make Crimson vulnerable, give Finley an opportunity that is too irresistible, but have it be believable. When he makes his move, we'll take him down. I'd like to interrogate him, figure out what has happened to Keen Eye, if he isn't Keen Eye, then neutralize him.”
        “Your plan is to betray your own team just to see who acts like a traitor?” Night Bloom deadpanned.
        “It seems like good plan, and the damage won't be permanent. We'll just leave some very valuable intel in the open, and pounce on whoever goes for it. But we'll have to be subtle; using a city-wide lockdown to force Finley to act will have him back down. If he uses agents, we'll interrogate them until it splashes back on Finley.”
        “And our job?” Night Bloom asked.
        “I'm very easily recognizable. You two, however, could easily be transferred to the Night Guard that patrols the city at night, making you go unnoticed. To further conceal your presence, we'll spread rumors of an assassination plot against the princesses. They should up the guard details accordingly. Finley wouldn't suspect a thing.”
        “And how would you spread such rumors, yet have them be empty?”
        “Easy,” I pulled out the piece of paper I got off the Zebra officer I sniped through his scope back in Trottingham. “I have no idea what this message reads, it hasn't been translated yet, but we could say that it says the princesses are a priority target for the group that retreated from Trottingham, and that the Neighagra force was merely diversionary. We're going to turn the intelligence game on its head, but the princesses need to be kept out of this for them to react legitimately.”
        “We'll be telling the princesses that there is an assassin after them, even when there isn't?” Nocturne asked.
        “No, we'll have an assassin on standby, to help sell this all the more. We hopefully won't have to go that far, it wouldn't be beyond reason that Chuck Finley would be privy to such an operation if it was ran by Zebras.” I thought for a moment, “We'll introduce it as a rumor, get the orders here translated and decrypted, then debunk our own rumor as a translation error, leaving you on the patrol routes in the city.
        “Once that is done, I'll have someone tip off the MoM that Crimson has been doing less than legal activities on Equestrian soil. When they crack down, they'll seize everything, even Spectacles documentation on the Steel Ranger Power Armor. That is the juicy target the Zebras will go for. You'll need to cover it as it goes to the MoM for processing. When Luna hears about the raid on Crimson HQ, I'll have her send orders to the MoM via courier. The courier will carry the designs over to the MWT. En route, Finley should engage, either personally or via an agent. You'll go down and intercept. The courier is expendable, the intel and the attacker are not. You need to be there before any guards or police arrive, but be mindful of response times. Too soon and Finley knows something's up.
        “Once that is done, take the attacker to the cells in the MoM. Crimson should have been moved there, as per the arrest, and that is where I'll rendezvous with you. We'll jail the attacker, and Crimson will be released by Princess Luna's orders. Once that is done, we'll get the attacker 'transferred' to another prison, a high-security facility, depending on the severity of his attack.
        “The three of us will be making the transfer at night. I don't want any of the prisoners or guards to see me, it might blow the operation. We'll complete all transfers that aren't the attacker. Once all prisoners have been delivered, we'll take the attacker to the edge of the Everfree. There, we'll drug him out of his mind, and drag him all the way into the Shades or Crimson's secondary HQ, depending on what is available. In there, I'll interrogate him. My absence from Canterlot will be explained with advanced thestral training.
        “Once I'm satisfied with the answers I get, we'll plan phase 2, and keep the attacker close at hand until he proves useless. Are you ready to rock?”
        There was a pause, but then they responded, “Let's do this.” If this works, making elaborate plans on the fly might just be a talent of mine.

        I didn't even try to translate the document, I just radioed to Pizza that a specialist in the Shades translated it for me, even though such a specialist didn't exist as far as I knew. I told him what the “translation” said, and to forward that information as needed. I'd give it a week, let it simmer, and then we'll have our pieces in place. Via my dreams, I told Luna to add Nocturne and Night Bloom to her guard transfers in response to the upcoming assassination attempt. I had to urge her not to question it.
        The two thestrals packed up and left some time ago, and I had several days to get things ready. I performed thorough weapon maintenance on all of my guns and even my Energy Sword. I trained hard with Iron Sides and the other thestrals, honing my newfound abilities as well as my older, tried and true ones. At one point I even practiced a dual wielding technique with my knife and sword, to great effect.
        The second day was much like the first, training and boredom. I started learning the layout of the city much more thoroughly. I got a reloading bench installed in my house and I started breaking down my ammo, reforming it into match-grade and overpressure loads. I wish I brought some Battle Rifle TTR rounds, I could probably make some sort of bullet to hand load into it. The new rounds I made were hitting harder and more accurately than normal, and Misriah's over-engineered bolts were holding strong. I continued to practice my training with the thestrals.
        The third day I decided to go for a run throughout the city. Folks were putting up more and more decorations for Nightmare Night, yet my house's façade remained barren. I was just passing the machine shop when hostile contacts appeared on my motion sensor. I stopped and turned to face them, drawing my DMR. All that I saw was nothingness on both my flanks and six o'clock. Not the first time I started chasing ghosts. The contacts appeared again, and I moved down an alley, towards the nearest contact. Again, I found nothing. The motion sensor could be malfunctioning, or I could be in serious danger. I decided to head home.
        Once there I locked the door and put a chair against it to barricade. Next, I sat down at my reloading bench and removed my left pauldron. The contoured armor plate is where the motion sensor's delicate crystal is housed. I removed my duster and set it down on my chair. Next I pulled out a few minute tools resembling a lockpick set. I carefully started disassembling the armor piece as I kept my ears as attentive as I could, letting them serve as eyes in the back of my head. I opened the housing of the crystal.
        Personally, nobody would tell me how the motion sensor functioned, just how to maintenance it along with the rest of my armor. Luckily, that is all you need to know sometimes. From what I could tell, this crystal vibrates when motion is detected near it, which is why Spartans appear on their own motion sensor. The sensitivity the sensor is set to determine how much motion needs to be detected before it will display it on the HUD, this is so that a forest doesn't appear as a solid mass on the motion sensor. The down side to the motion sensor is it can very easily fail if anything is on it, so it must be kept extremely clean. Even the moisture of someone's breath is enough to cause failure.
        Good thing this helmet is hermetically sealed. As I set the housing down, motion sensor crystal resting atop it, I noticed something in the housing. Water. Not much, maybe half a teaspoon at most, but enough to cause failures, such as false positives. Looking more closely, I saw some contaminants in the water. Now where could water have slipped into the housing?
        I started retracing my steps, trying to remember when the water could have gotten in. My mind eventually reached back to the battle of the HMS Harmony. There, I was fully submerged at one point, same goes for Pizza. And the Mantis was submerged at Well-met. Looks like I now had something on my to-do list. I grabbed a spare, dry rag and started rubbing down the housing and its crystal. When it was clean of all contaminants, I reinstalled the system. When I booted up the sensor, my radar was clear. It looked like Stalliongrad had no ghosts after all. I donned my duster again, then grabbed my DMR and made my way out of the Shades.
        I found my way back to the Whitetail Crimson location and went all the way back through the dark halls. The Mantis was standing just as I left it. Good. I turned tail and went into the storage area, opening up one of the UNSC crates, retrieving the necessary toolkit. The Mantis was based off of both Mjolnir and Cyclops technology, and I know just as much about it as I do my motion sensor.

        Maintenance took the better part of the day, but the Mantis was thoroughly cleaned. The gargantuan mech was never meant for aquatic combat. I grabbed a datapad on my way out, boosting its signal with my armor's comms. I quickly got a connection back to Crimson HQ's UNSC computers. I fired up some translation software (meant for Covies, it should work with Zebras). I used my optics to scan the Zebra document for translation.
        What it said shouldn't have surprised me:
                Target: ~1.75 meters tall, bipedal, heavily armored, leader of Crimson Guard.
                Objective: eliminate, kill. Means: 12.7x99mm Armor Piercing ammunition.
                Weapon: captured Equestrian prototype Anti-Machine Rifle (Ironshod Firearms).
                Station: telecom tower, five stories, East of plaza, Trottingham.
                Operatives will assist in bait and takedown.
                DO NOT UNDERESTIMATE: target credited with hundreds of confirmed kills.
                Ever Faithful, Ever Vigilant,
                Legate Fortis

        It seemed the stripes were extraordinarily precise with their planning, something I'd have to take note of for future operations. They also seemed to want me dead, no matter what. Between them and the Covenant, I'm proving to be harder to kill than Rasputin. Even so, I'll stay away from wine that may or may not be poisoned.
        Next on the to-do list: debunk the assassination rumor. I fired up my comms and tried to connect to Pizza. “Joe, glad to hear from you. Your training finished?”
        “Sadly no, Pizza. I do have an update, though. I had the translation of that Zebra document verified. Turns out the target isn't Luna, but me. The Legate put a hit out on me, sending at least one assassin and a team of supporting operatives to take me down. That sounds a bit like those cloaked bastards that ambushed us right outside of the HQ, right?”
        “Solid copy, I'll go tell the princesses about this foul up.”
        “I'd also tell them to keep the additional guards, the Zebras may still try to make a move on them as a secondary target to Crimson.”
        “Yes, sir. See you starside.”
        “See you later, Pizza.”
        I killed the comms. This should free up Night Bloom and Nocturne for standard patrol routes. I'll give it a day before outing Crimson. I'd need to take myself down with them in order to make sure the intel was confiscated as evidence.
        Before leaving the base, I changed my loadout again. I kept my weapons mostly the same, trading in my DMR for my Battle Rifle. I didn't have any live ammo for it, but I did have plenty of TTR rounds, which I grabbed in a heartbeat, swapping the ammo in my rucksack for it. I traded the Hologram for a Hardlight Shield. As a bit of an after thought, I decided to swap the Mighty Magnum for the Sticky Detonator.

        It didn't take long to get in the Shades, and start doing an extra round of training with Iron Sides. This time it focused more on thestral-unique techniques (the sono-mapping I used beneath Stalliongrad, scent tracking, bomb sniffing, etc). Turns out a thestral's ability to suck the juice from various fruits can also be reversed, injecting something into a bite, if there is anything to inject. That gave me more than a few ideas about sucking up some poisons and using them in CQC, which Iron Sides recommended, but with knockout drugs or hallucinogens instead of toxins. It would be very easy to screw up, he indicated.
        The Dirt had a tournament setting up, an annual event. On Nightmare Night, “Attrition”, as it is called, starts. A platoon signs up, their CO handles the first few rounds solo, every three victories netting him an additional squadmate, the next highest of rank in the group (veterancy breaks the ties), to join in and fight by his side. If they get eliminated, they are out of the game, permanently. If the CO goes down, it's game over. The battles last fifteen minutes on, five minutes off, until the opposing CO gets eliminated. Once that happens, the victor advances up the bracket, only allowed water between fights. The eliminated gets candy, with each sugary stockpile increasing in size for the number they eliminated, with a baseline awarded for each participant.
        “Iron Sides,” I asked the grizzled ancient, “This sounds like one hell of competition, but it doesn't sound like there's a time limit. What's the record for the longest fight?”
        “Oh, Joe... the longest fight is something of a legend around here. The two platoons posed for a photo afterwards, and now their likenesses adorn the first and second place trophies, one silver, the other gold, all showing both platoons. The platoons were Garuda and Endurance. Believe it or not, it actually came down to the last two men. Once the semi-finals start, the whole city becomes the area of operations. Garuda ran Endurance into the maze, started fighting from off the beaten path, but they were recalled by Luna once their EODs started blowing open new routes. The fighting lasted twenty-four days, ending at the same time of day it started, to the hour.”
        “I've only ever heard of Spartans fighting that long, but those events are seldom heard. Can you introduce me to those platoons?”
        “Sorry, they both died out. That fight was five hundred years ago. Back then, this contest was simply called 'The Tournament', but after that fight, it started taking on the name Attrition, given Garuda and Endurance's fighting techniques. Those platoon names are sealed now, the highest of honors saved for only the greatest of platoons. No other platoon can don such a name now, it might blur the history of such a legend. Doesn't stop an unfathomable number of '2's from showing up, though.”
        “Where do I sign up?”
        “You'll need a platoon of your own, Joe. And you can't take your buddies in Crimson down here, it's a bit of a thestrals-only club. Just think of what Luna would have to say about it, showing this place to outsiders...”
        “What makes it so that I'm not an outsider but the rest of Crimson is?”
        “You were a thestral once, which grants you a lifetime membership. We view you as an equal here, but you must remember that during the Downfall, our isolation kept us alive. The Downfall was that black mark on our history when the Nightmare stole our princess from us and we were too blind to see through her false façade. We entered a lockdown of sorts, lasting a century. Long enough for most of Equestria to stop persecuting us as turncoats and villains. Even established our own nation for a time, until the Nightmare returned. This time, we saw her for what she was, and refused to recognize her rank. Why else do you think the bearers of the Elements of Harmony found her in the Everfree Forest? We refused to assist her, and she took the Old Entrance to the Castle of the Royal Sisters, completely unaware of the new main entrance that was built at the end of the lockdown. Sorry for the tangential history lesson, I'm a bit of a history buff.”
        “It's a good story, but why is it that one century of persecution has lead to an eternity of isolation?”
        “The Royal Guards never took too kindly to our presence; our ranks were formed out of defiance. When the Nightmare returned, the persecutions resumed, but thankfully were countermanded by both princesses before any undue deaths occurred. When our scouts reported back that the Nightmare had been vanquished, and our princess had returned to us, we were skeptical. Our caution served us well before, and it has never done us wrong. We sent our best to greet her, and to make a demonstration of our prowess. Ghost Platoon was selected, that year's Attrition champions. Luna let slip about the Shades, prompting Celestia's further inquiry. To this day, she remains the only breach in security, but a minor one at that.”
        “You mentioned your ranks were formed out of defiance? How exactly?”
        “That goes back well over a thousand years. If our records are accurate, Luna asked her sister if she could form a group much like our own today out of the vagrants, destitute, and outlaws of the old Equestria. Celestia wasn't liking that idea very much, so she refused to give Luna the authority to bring such a group to fruition. Luckily for us, Luna had two options in mind. Her 'Plan B' was to ask for forgiveness rather than permission. The Royal Guards were rather surprised to see the new thestrals pulling Luna's chariot. Celestia was not happy, and refused to provide barracks for the thestrals, hoping the lack of housing would have the group disband.”
        “Clearly, that didn't work. I take it that's where the Shades enters the story?”
        “Right you are. Luna went into the Everfree Forest, not too far from the Castle of the Royal Sisters. She used the same magic she used to form the craters on the moon to forge this underground cavern. At the Hall of Histories near the Old Entrance you can find some of the original rocks still on display. Most of the materials mined here are refined into usable items, like armor or weapons, something Luna established the precedence for. After she pulled so many raw materials out of the ground, she let her thestrals refine them and find utilities for them. Most of the buildings here are made from such rocks.”
        “Thestrals aren't the ones to waste something I take it?” He nodded in the affirmative. “The Hall of Histories sounds like a good place to visit, can you point me to it?”
        “It's all the way to the West, just South of the Old Entrance.”
        “I'll head over there now. Thanks for the history lesson.”        
        “It's more than just a lesson Joe, it's the weight that is carried with every action a Night Guard makes, whether if they know it or not. And one more thing: if history has a tendency to repeat itself, then doesn't that mean that history also holds the answers?”
        “I guess it does, considering where we are now is a solution to where we were,” I headed off to the Hall of Histories. The walk was long and gave me ample time to make a call. “Pizza, you reading me?”
        “Your signal's a bit patchy, but I got you, Joe.”
        “I double-checked that document putting a hit on me, just to clarify things. It turns out it was mission orders for a sniper in Trottingham that I eliminated. The supporting operatives may have either been the cloaked figures we found at the HQ or the bastards who snagged Keen Eye. My money’s on Keen Eye. How copy?”
        “Good copy, anything else?”
        “Negative, I've got to finish my training, just some basic history lessons for right now. See you later.”
        “See ya, Joe.”
        I killed the comm and continued my walk. All that was left for me to do now was to tip off the MoM to some very illegal activities Crimson did and get them to crack down on us.
        There was a stretch of about 20 yards of barren ground between the last few buildings and the Hall of Histories. Glancing right, I saw a pile of boulders plugging what used to be an archway. I take it that would be the Old Entrance, leading to the Castle of the Royal Sisters in the Everfree Forest. I'd have to keep note of that. Might come in handy.
        I knocked on the stone door to the Hall of Histories, knocking loose some dust from the frame. I could hear some hoofsteps on the other side of the door before it opened up. A very old looking thestral mare with a pair of reading glasses greeted me. “Hi there,” she said, “What can I do ya for?”
        “Is this the Hall of Histories? I'm rather new here and I'd like to know more about this place, mainly it's history.”
        “Ah, a fellow history buff I see, well, right this way,” she lead me into the building. It looked like this structure was built into the West wall of the Shades, and expanded outward as necessitated by the passage of time. “In the South Wing you'll find personal histories of the various folks who lived here. In the North Wing is the history of the Shades and the Night Guard as a whole (I wouldn't trust those shoddy Canterlot records as far as I could throw them). The history gets more recent the farther out you get. In the entrance hall here, we have up-to-date personnel records, floor plans, and other things of the sort. The kind of stuff that ain't history just yet. Would you like a tour?”
        “I think I'd like to explore on my own for now, maybe later.”
        “Very well. Not many come by here all that often, mostly just Iron Sides.”
        “I take it he’s a regular here?”
        “I had a cot requisitioned due to how often I found him asleep in the North Wing. He reads so much...”
        “I can tell. Well, I'll leave you be.” I wandered into the North Wing, focusing first on general history, then the minutia that interested me most, namely wars.

        I emerged several hours later, finding all of what Iron Sides said to be accurate. A lot of the tensions between the Royal Guards and thestrals seemed to make more sense now that I knew the why of it.
        Sleep started trying to creep up on me, but I fought it back just long enough to get home. The sofa was comfortable enough for the time being.

        An alarm went off overhead. “That's the signal boys, let's rock this world!” the sarge said. I made my way over to the weapon rack. I grabbed an M7S and a Automag. I chambered a round in both as I put my helmet on and made my way to my pod. I sat down and watch as the hatch closed tightly, placing my SMG in its slot to my right.
        The sarge's face popped up on the screen to my left. “Alright troopers, OPERATION: AEGIS is the name of the game. We're going to be holding the headquarters of the shipyards until all those little civvies get off world. The colonel is already dirtside, so's best not to keep her waiting.”
        The three tell tale beeps went off before my pod was hurled downward. Gazing down I could see the surface of Skopje, with its industrialized centers and interconnected islands. I gulped at the number of enemy forces down below. As we entered the lower atmosphere, I could see a veritable sea of purple, and that I was headed straight for it. “This zone is going to be hot!” yelled the sarge.
        The next thing I knew my pod hit the ground. I hit the switch for the door hydraulics, but they were unresponsive. I slammed the explosive bolts instead, blasting my door into a pack of Grunts. I didn't have time to draw my SMG, instead I leveled my pistol and fired on the surviving Covies. “Troopers, regroup at my location,” the sarge ordered. I looked around for his IFF tag.
        Spotting it, I hurriedly withdrew my SMG from the pod and made my way over to him. It was a blur for me making that sprint, I recall being three mags lighter by the time I got to the sarge, but I couldn't recall emptying them.
        I entered the complex that had the sarge's IFF on it. I ran down the hall, heading towards the sarge when a Jackal rounded the corner up ahead. The bastard nailed me thrice with his carbine before I could drop him. I put a pressure bandage on my left arm, where one round penetrated. The other two rounds merely burned with radiation. My HUD said my mag was still more than half full.
        I entered the room up ahead, finally rendezvousing with the sarge. He was toting his SAW, and pointing it at me. “Trooper, drop!” he yelled. Without hesitation I dropped down into a prone position, his rounds tearing overhead. I looked back and saw a pack of maybe forty Grunts clambering after me. One of them threw a grenade. I saw it soar overhead and stick the sarge right on the visor. He dropped the SAW and removed his helmet. He tossed the helmet, plasma grenade included at the pack of Grunts.
        The sarge, being the sarge, followed it up by grabbing a frag, pulling the pin with his teeth and tossing it after his helmet. He then walked past me before the smoke could settle. I saw him punch the controls for the door, and as they slide shut, he walked backwards, watching pace with the doors. He was firing his Automag, one-handed, at any remaining Grunts in the hall, the door providing excellent cover.
        “Trooper, you could've helped me out there,” he said, offering his hand to me. I took it and was lifted to my feet.
        “What, and steal your fun?” I retorted with a chuckle. “That was some next-level badassery, sir. Where'd you learn to fight like that?”
        “Right here, just now. Anyway, as the rest of the boys regroup, we need to proceed to our objective,” he picked up his SAW, “That being said, there are some CEO business types still here. We're to cover their evac before linking up with the colonel.”
        “Another civilian evac op? Seems like since Miridem that's all we get to do.”
        “We'll these stuck-ups are also needed for wartime resources, so they get the special treatment from HIGHCOM. These execs are going on an early vacation to Mars, if they survive this.”
        “Alright, sir, so where are these VIPs?”
        “Half a click North, this complex should connect. I think we should be quick about this. Normally, Jackal-Grunt formations have Elites not that far behind.”
        “Then let's hoof it, sarge.”
        “Right this way,” he turned and walked down the North corridor. As a precaution I quickly rigged a frag and some paracord into a tripwire for when the Grunts break through.
        “Joe, what is this?” a feminine voice was barely coming over my comms.
        “Colonel, is that you? You’re patchy as hell.”
        “Joe-” the comm went dead.
        “Colonel? Colonel, you're breaking up. I can't hear you.”
        “Comm trouble?” the sarge asked.
        “Sounded like the Colonel wanted me for something, but I couldn't tell for what.”
        “Well, whatever it is, she can wait until after we get the VIPs out. It's not that far now. Make sure you take some KI, helps against complications from hostile Carbine fire.”
        “Yes, sir,” I pulled out the small green bottle. It only held about thirty doses, enough for just as many days. I swallowed a pill. It wouldn't help against any radiation already taken on, but if another Carbine round hit me, it probably wouldn't burn as much. Probably.
        The sarge was one of the best ODSTs I've ever known, and I was glad to be put in his unit. He was a foot taller than me and a hundred pounds heavier. If what the other boys say is true, he fought at the First Battle of Harvest before joining the Helljumpers. Having lived 22 years on the front in this war, he had to have something going for him to keep him alive this long. I found it to be wise to stay close and do whatever he tells you to. Some rookies learned the hard way why that was good advice.
        I quickened my pace to keep up with the sarge. The objective marker was a couple dozen meters away. When we got to the spaceport, we found an entire company of ODSTs fighting frantically to hold the area. “Sergeant, we've got three transports left and that's it,” a major said, “Take a platoon and defend the West pad, Grunts are crawling all over that transport like it's one of their damned food nipples.”
        “Yessir,” the sarge said without even breaking stride. We both turned left, the sarge would point to the occasional ODST, then point forward. The troopers who he pointed to would fall into our ranks and match pace. We eventually marched to the West pad and saw the scene before us.
        A trio of ODSTs was surrounded by two dozen of their dead allies, with a horde of grunts closing in on their position. The sarge just pointed at me and another trooper, then opened and closed his hand repeatedly, then pointed at the Grunts. We knew what to do. I primed my last grenade and tossed it beyond the trio's cover. A second grenade followed a similar trajectory, landing a few meters away. Both blasted apart a dozen Grunts each.
        By the time the smoke settled, we had already linked up with the trio of troopers that had survived. It looked like our grenades had blasted apart what little was left of their cover. Across the pad I could see more grunts climbing up. I pointed this out to the sergeant, who got four troopers to cover us as we tried to refortify.
        “Sir, what are we going to fortify with?” I asked him, suddenly realizing we didn't have an engineer.
        “Stack up the dead like sand bags. Their body armor will protect you.”
        “Sir?” one of the troopers asked, taking the words right out of my mouth.
        “Them being dead ain't gonna help us none unless if we stack 'em,” the sarge clarified, “else, we're all gonna die.”
        I didn't need much more encouragement than that. I started dragging dead troopers and Grunts into an approximate skirmish line. I also stripped the fallen ODSTs of their weapons and equipment, piling it up behind the fortification.
        “Nice work, Joe,” the sarge said, “We ain't gonna be able to hold this place forever, but we'll be able to hold it long enough for the transport to get off.” The sarge propped his SAW against the dead. As the four ODSTs that covered us withdrew to the skirmish line, the sarge fired on the loitering Grunts.
        “Corporal, have your men engage the targets on the right. Everyone else, take the left. I've got the middle. Our overlapping fields should make for superior fire support.” The seven of us assumed our positions, myself covering the right as the sarge ordered.
        “Don't forget to divvy up your targets. We don't want multiple guns on the same baddie, that's just a waste of ammo. Start talking guns; sequential firing,” the sarge added.
        Left to right was the order we'd be going in. I flicked my SMG's fire select to semi-auto, as I heard the rest of the boys do as well, save for the sarge.
        We propped up against the dead. The Grunts were coming at a steady flow, with the occasional surge that an entire pack brought. The pad was covered in their fluorescent blood. Leaking methane was making it hard for the sarge to breathe due to his lack of a helmet. One of the dead troopers was more than happy to remedy that problem.
        It was hours of combat later before we started having to rely on scavenged weapons and our pistols. Then something unusual happened. A Spirit dropship came out of nowhere, buzzing our location. “One rocket left, make it count!” I heard one trooper yell to another, handing an M19-B SAM to him. I ducked down as the rocket burst forth from the tube. I looked up just in time to see it impact the Spirit, sending it crashing down. The Grunts stopped their advance.
        The soldier with the SAM let out a cheer, “Woo! We nailed that fucker, didn't we sar-” he was cut off when a fuel rod hit him center-mass, sending chunks of the trooper in all directions.
        “Hunters!” the sarge yelled, “Disperse!”.
        I turned back to the wreckage, seeing the hulking frame of two Hunters pulling themselves out of the Spirit.
        I heard all our SMGs click to full auto. I only had half a mag left. I ran from the cover the dead provided and headed to the left to flank the beasts. The other troopers did the same. The sarge, having ran dry, simply threw his SAW at the Hunter pair. “We've got Hunters at the West pad and no ammo, we need assistance, ASAP, or we will lose this location!” I heard the sarge radio.
        I saw the wriggling mass of worms in the back of one of the Hunters and fired at them. The Hunter immediately let out a guttural roar as the other moved in to block my shots. I heard my gun go click just as the rounds started bouncing off its armor. I tossed the gun aside, drawing my Automag. The Hunter returned fire as its brother engaged the sarge. I dove to the side to dodge the fuel rod.
        “Can anyone hear me?” the sarge radioed, “We need reinforcements, ordinance, anything now!”
        No response came as the Hunters kept up their onslaught. “Sarge, the methane!” a Private radioed, “if we blow enough of these Grunts, it might kill the Hunters.”
        “Enough of that MacGyver shit, rookie, we'd lose the pad and our asses! And what makes you think they'd let us rig up those Grunts without wanting to 'help' us out?”
        “Sarge, I was just-”
        “I've seen rookies try that before. They're all dead. It doesn't work, so drop it. Troopers, we are falling back to the major. On me!” the sarge ordered, narrowly dodging another fuel rod.
        We quickly sprinted back to him and the path East, abandoning the pad. I only had the loaded mag for my pistol, 12 rounds in total. We emerged back at the North pad, where the major was last seen. We saw some troopers hunkering down behind some crates.
        “What are you doing?” one of our PFCs hurriedly asked, approaching the hunkered soldiers.
        “Get down!” the sarge yelled, tackling the PFC to the ground as a Beam Rifle round cracked through the air.
        The PFC crawled across the ground to the hunkering soldiers, the Covie snipers narrowly missing him, until one got lucky and hit him in the leg. He managed to get to cover, where one of the hunkering soldiers injected him with biofoam.
        “Sarge, we're pinned. Hostile snipers. What do we do? ...Sarge?” We all looked at the still-prone soldier. Then we saw the pool of blood seeping out from under his helmet.
        “Sarge!” I yelled. He was down for the count. Unresponsive. No amount of battlefield medicine could fix that wound. I started looking around, trying to figure out what to do. These were my men now, my responsibility. I spotted a Sniper Rifle on the ground, next to a dead trooper. It was ten meters away from me, in open ground. The sarge was half that distance away, and much faster than me, when he got hit. I wouldn't be able to get it with those snipers on me.
        “Joe, tell me, what is going on?” a concerned, feminine voice said again over the radio. It sounded familiar now that it was much more clear.
        “Colonel?”
        “Try 'princess'.”
        “Ma'am?” suddenly my world was washed out to white. Shortly thereafter, it was replaced by an azure starscape. “What the-?”
        “Joe, you were having a nightmare,” princess Luna said, “and a rather nasty work of fiction at that.”
        “Luna, that actually happened,” I deadpanned.
        Luna's eyes widened a little bit. “But then how did you-”
        “Survive? A Spartan came in via an SOEIV, I used that as a distraction to dive for the rifle. The Jackal snipers were easy enough to drop from there.” Off to the side, my memories of the events unfurled in the third person. We were gazing at it from the looking glass.
        “But why this memory in particular?”
        “The battle of Skopje is where I found my freaky talent with rifles. Those Jackals were taken out in a split second when I didn't even know their location. It was the first notch that lead to my being a Spartan, but it wasn't quite the determining factor.”
        “What was?”
        “Arcadia, my baptism of fire, and biggest success prior to the Spartan program.” I glanced to my right and saw an orbital view of Arcadia, and the Covenant ships assaulting it. My gaze didn't wander from it. “Back at Skopje, we fell back to a castle that was there, apparently the Colonel had the same idea. With her guidance, we managed to get out of there in one piece. Deaths were all too common back in those days.”
        “The Covenant was a powerful foe, you did your best.”
        “We all did. If we didn't, we wouldn't be here. The Covenant would've fired the Halos, wiping the galaxy clean of all life, or worse, they could've unleashed the Flood... they did unleash the Flood for that matter,” I turned back to face the princess of the night. “This war, between the Equestrians and the Zebras, it's very different than against the Covenant. The Covenant were fanatical zealots, the Zebras are much more calculating. Often times, it seems that Equestria is lagging way behind. If it wasn't for mine and Spectacles' designs for new weapons and armor, Caesar would be sitting pretty in Canterlot already. That being said, we need to do some counter-surveillance... figure out how they have kept pace with us. I already have the beginnings of an operation in the works, but I can't tell you any more than that.”
        “And why is that?”
        “Loose lips sink ships. I'll tell you what needs to be done and when by way of these dreams, other than that, we can't risk talking about this operation.”

        I awoke on the sofa a little groggy, but rested. I got up and stretched. Now was the time to set the trap. I made my way out of the Shades, returning yet again to the old LZ. The secondary base there was just as I had left it the night before, and I made my way over to the equipment crate. I grabbed a datapad and uploaded the neural implant footage of all of Crimson's illicit operations to it. I tossed it and an Active Camo armor ability into my rucksack and made one last stop before my trip back to Canterlot.
        “Iron Sides, you got a moment?”
        “That I do Joe, you wanting some more tips and tricks?”
        “Negative, what I need is a courier. I need this datapad delivered to the Ministry of Morale, and I need it done yesterday. It's classified top-secret, you think you can manage that?”
        “Sure, but I'm expecting some more work from you in turn. These recruits are getting a little soft in my opinion and I think you can whip them into shape. What do you say?”
        “I'm in a bit of a rush right now, my team needs me back in Canterlot. Afterwords, I can spare some time.”
        “Sounds fine by me.” I handed over the datapad, found a Mongoose, and drove back to Canterlot. It would take some time for Iron Sides to make the delivery, time I could use to brief Pizza and get the whole team caught with their hands (and hooves) in the cookie jar.

        The sun was setting once more when I made my way back to Canterlot. I worked my way into the Shipping District and found the HQ entrance. I checked my motion sensor and did a full sweep with VISR before unlocking the door, quickly locking it behind me.
        The Ratatat of AR fire was going on overhead, I guess the team was running some wargames. I checked the ammo for my BR... TTR. I set down my rucksack and all my other weapons outside Red Base. I made my way up top. I took a deep breath before walking through the shield door. I popped Active Camo and found Pizza's IFF tag. I snuck around the corner on the left side, finding the MG nest laying down suppressing fire against the Spartan. I inched across some open ground, carefully avoiding Starfire's mines, approaching the MG nest with ease.
        I saw that the gun was manned by Footfall and nopony else. I got within inches of him, then I struck. I grabbed his left shoulder with my left hand, and yanked hard. He sprawled out on the ground in clear surprise. Before he could react, I used my other hand to fire a burst from my BR into his face. The rounds weren't lethal, but their numbing effect would make it hard for him to talk for the time being.
        Assassination!
        I cloaked and moved towards Pizza's IFF again, trying to see how long it'd take for Crimson to find out I'm back. Seeing a wall still dividing us, it looked like Pizza backed himself into a corner. No way to run, no way to get flanked. I inched further around to see what was chasing him. He fired a round, and I followed the vapor trail to where he was shooting. It looked like he had the rest of the team pinned, as Footfall did him just moments ago. The downside to their positioning is one couldn't move without exposing the other.
        I snuck up to my old friend. “Pizza, SitRep.”
        He jumped a little at my de-cloaking, “Shit Joe, didn't expect to see you back so soon. We're doing an elimination round here, one versus all. I've got most of Crimson pinned, but their MG has got me covered. I can't budge and neither can they. They also have the MG field mined, damn that Starfire. I shouldn't have given them any prep time, let alone five minutes.”
        “You got your Hardlight?”
        “Always, damn thing's impervious but it don't last long without support.”
        “I'm support,” I suggested, “Maybe we can mount up and rodeo this?”
        “You really want to do a rodeo here? Haven't ever done one myself.”
        “Nor have I, but it's worth a shot. I've already handle Footfall on the MG, all that's left is what's in front. Mines are still live, FYI.”
        “Alright, mount up Joe.” Pizza leaned forward a bit and I clambered onto his back. I kept one hand on his shoulder, my boots attached the his lower back magnetic holsters (where I had my twin SMGs earlier). I held my BR at the ready, one-handed. Pizza stood up with audible protest, but was quick to find his balance. Last I checked, Mjolnir should be able to handle this weight, though with some difficulty.
        “Ready when you are, Pizza,” I said. My BR had 33 rounds still loaded. It should be plenty.
        “Let's rock!” Pizza charged forward as best he could. He moved like he had an HMG in tow. Just before leaving cover, he brought up his Hardlight Shield. I, being on his back, could just barely aim above the shield. I cloaked to help sell the illusion even further.
        We rounded the corner, coming face to face with Crimson. The team looked a little shocked at the sudden charge. I smiled a little at seeing them again. Starfire managed to deftly load a grenade in a breach-loaded launcher before sending it against Pizza's shield. It bounced off with no discernible effect. I scoped in and began to open fire on the team, nearest to farthest.
        Most of them went down quickly, but two, Lockheart and Starfire managed to head out the back. They were probably heading around for a flank. No doubt they saw me, Camo and opening fire don't really blend all that well... for some reason.
        I jumped off of Pizza's back now that the charge was complete. “Joe, you know that's the first time I've ever seen a rodeo done effectively?”
        “Yeah, same here. Honestly, I think it was inspired by Rocket Racers. Damn effective if done properly. Sorry about the weight, Mjolnir and all that.”
        “No problem, it was good fun. Let's hunt down those last two and then we can laugh over it.”
        “Solid copy,” I loaded a fresh mag in my BR and turned 180 to head back to the MG nest. If those two were flanking, we could head them off at the gun. But then again, Lockheart earned his rank. I held up a fist ordering Pizza to halt, “Starfire's got Lockheart with her. Lockheart would know we'd fall back to the MG nest, and is probably going to try and ambush us en route. I'll cloak and sneak by, you give chase and flush them out my way.”
        “Yes, sir,” Pizza responded before following the Colonel's last known path. I went invisible and set up at the doorway leading back out to the MG field. There were a lot of mines strewn across the floor. To set them up properly in five minutes is a testament to Starfire's skill with explosives. It ain't the kind of job you want to rush, after all.
        Pizza's DMR range out, truncating the AR fire the preceded it by milliseconds. An explosion followed that before Starfire flew out from the other side of the MG field, just as my Camo died. I pushed the Armor Ability too much in too short of time, Camo being especially picky like that.
        She saw me and this time pulled a paint grenade out of her saddlebag. As I scoped in, she pulled the pin. The grenade flew threw the air like a rocket, only my rounds intercepted the thing moments later, plastering Starfire with red paint.
        Game Over. Red Team Wins!
         Pizza came running around the corner, seeing the defeated Starfire.
        “Haven't done one of those since Paradiso. What do you think, Pizza?”
        “What, shooting a grenade out of the air? It looks like you nailed her good with that one, Joe.”
        “I take it you bagged Lockheart?”
        “Hell yeah, he almost got the jump on me, but I was more accurate.”
        “I didn't even know it was possibly to do that, Joe. How can you even make that kind of a shot?” Starfire asked.
        “Mind you, I got perfect range scores some time ago, plus I'm a Spartan sniper and the BR is my preferred rifle. Mostly, I got lucky, it's been a few years since I've done a shot like that. It's a ridiculously small target moving at fast speeds, and it won't be available for long. It's easiest to intercept the grenade, and with me being the target, it was a zero-deflection shot.”
        “Regardless, I'm calling BS on that hit.”
        “The paint says otherwise, and the tie-breaker is traditionally a 1v1 slayer match. I don't think it makes much of a difference. Besides, it was a solid strategy your team employed. If not for me, I think Pizza would've gotten his ass kicked. Anyways, let's head back to the mess hall. We need to shift our priorities.”
        On the way down I visited the HQ's smithy and found Spectacles hard at work on another Steel Ranger armor variant. “Working hard or hardly working, Spectacles?”
        “Oh, hey Joe. Definitely the 'working hard' part. I'm trying to see if I can make a Steel Ranger variant that is just as effective as the previous models, but using materials that are more readily available. All the prototypes Crimson's used have been proof-of-concept version, but use exceedingly rare materials. If we want to be able to field Rangers as front-line infantry, they'll need to be mass-produced. They mostly involve the use of steel plating right now, which needs coal to be made, which the Zebras have in bulk but Equestria is being starved of. I need something better, but it looks like I'll have to rework the entire power system by opting for a different material.”
        “What alternatives have you looked at?”
        “Diamond was one, the Crystal Empire has enough for an entire regiment, but it would be too heavy for the load-bearing system to handle with its current reactor. I was also thinking of ceramics, but they tend to shatter upon heavy impact. Any suggestions?”
        “Well, I've noticed that most units are still using the old plate armor from before the war. Ceramics would be a good option, but have you tried coupling it with viscous, non-Newtonian fluids or high-tensile fibers like Kevlar? It still won't be Ranger-quality, but it'll provide a good level of protection above the current standard.”
        “Well, I guess that'd work but it's a little half-assing it, don't you think? With fluids I can't mount the servos. With ceramics only a direct mount is possible, but that connection would be destroyed upon impact. I can't have powered armor until I can find a better material and get the reactor situated. I'd have to limit the amount of armor for comfort, dexterity and weight in the meantime. The power supply needs a major upgrade to be mass produced and remain desirable for field deployment. Currently, the reactor only lasts about a week. Mjolnir, however, shows no such compromises and is centuries ahead of what we're capable of.”
        “I hope you're writing this down, the ministries should be able to help us out. Let's head to the mess hall, can't leave the others waiting for long, now can we?”
        “Alright, just let me grab my files. I don't want to forget a breakthrough in the trot over,” Spectacles grabbed a thick manila folder and followed me to the mess hall. The rest of Crimson was waiting for us there.
        “Crimson, things ain't looking too hot,” I began, “Thus far our operations have been responsive, not preemptive. Given the range of our last deployments, it is unlikely we can maintain our current operative status of intercepting any and all Zebra threats on the mainland. Instead, our priorities have to shift. Right now, we are the best Equestria has, and that is a weight we've carried well. The time has come to get this nation to carry itself through this war and beyond. Eventually, everything comes to an end, and our actions from now on will determine Equestria's fate more than any bomb or bullet. We need to rearm the land, retrain its soldiers, and steal the victory out from under Caesar.
        “To do this, we'll need to split up. You are all great fighters, and other units out there can be taught your skills. If we do this well, every unit in Equestria will be just as deadly as Crimson is now. I'd recommend brushing up on your teaching skills, then heading back into your old units. From there, train those troopers as best you can. Once you're satisfied with their capabilities, get that unit to train other units, and so on and so forth.
        “While you're busy doing that, Pizza, Spectacles, and I will be focused on developing the technology of the ministries to out pace the Zebra's own industry. This tech will trickle down to your own units, bolstering their increased combat effectiveness. Once your units are trained and have gotten used to the new tech, we'll rendezvous back here for the next phase of this operation. Any questions?” I wrapped things up.
        It was clean-cut, but before I could answer anyone's questions, there was an aggressive knocking nearby. The team sat up and readied their weapons. I did the same. The knocking happened again and I zeroed it to the front door. “Stay here. Pizza, with me,” I muttered to Crimson. I switched to my Sticky Detonator for lethal firepower.
        Another round of knocking was truncated abruptly, not lasting nearly as long as it did previously. I aimed for the door. If it was Zebras, the defense turret would have engage... and there wouldn't be knocking. Better safe than sorry. I motioned for Pizza to stack up at the door. I took the opposite side. I cloaked and pulled the door open, Pizza yelling for whoever was outside to identify themselves.
        They responded with a flash bang. Luckily, our visors and armor completely nullified its effects. Pizza rolled out of cover, yelling, “We've been engaged!” He fired out into the hostiles. Once his mag ran out and he took cover for a reload, I shut the door and locked it. It wouldn't keep back a determined enemy, but it would buy us some time. I placed a sticky on the ceiling and motioned for Pizza to fall back into the base.
        The Sticky Detonator's motion sensor would tell me when to blow it for maximum effect, but it was only one shot. We'd need something better. “Two coming through,” I yelled to Crimson so they wouldn't engage us. “Team, we need to fortify, hostiles are coming. Engage at your own discretion. Spectacles, grab any gear you've got and move it up. We might need it here. Lockheart, you and Footfall take the MG upstairs and bring it down here. Make sure to load it with lethal rounds.”
        The team scrambled to do their assigned tasks. Starfire started laying down mines and rigging booby traps. Fencing was positioning sandbags for cover. Pane was bringing weapons and ammo over from the armory, as Lyra pulled over a medical crate. Solace and Daze helped Fencing with fortifications as best they could. It wasn't going to be optimal, but it could hold... at least for a while.
        Another flash bang bounced into the main room, but we were fast enough to take cover to avoid the blinding effects. Aside from Pizza and myself, Crimson was still concussed by the explosive. I checked my Sticky Detonator. I had multiple contacts on screen, only they appeared to be friendly. I think I know who these mike foxes are. “Stay put, I'll be right back,” I told Pizza. I cloaked and ran at a half-crouch across to the entrance way. I saw those contacts from earlier, they were definitely ponies, but the real question was if they were Zebra sympathizers.
        Only one way to find. I holstered the Sticky Detonator and raised my hands before de-cloaking and walking up to them. They seemed rather startled at my sudden appearance. I made sure to patch my helmet cam video into Pizza's HUD. “What's going on here?” I asked the group.
        “The MoM has issued a warrant for the arrest of the Crimson Guard. You're coming with me,” one of the ponies said.
        “Under what charges? As the officer in charge, I need to know.”
        “Multiple counts of assault with various deadly weapons, the desecration of corpses, and the destruction of properties both public and private.”
        “And who are you pressing these charges against, specifically?”
        “We have warrants for: LT Joe, ENS Pizza, Spectacles, PVT Fencing, COL Lockheart, CPL Starfire, MAJ Pane, MCPO Daze, RDML Solace, PVT Footfall, T/5 Keen Eye, and SR Heartstrings.”
        “I take it we will have access to lawyers and a trial by a jury of our own peers?”
        “That remains to be seen.”
        “Lay down your arms and I will comply. These men are my responsibility, and I will not have them wantonly hurt.”
        “You will comply, then we will lower our arms.”
        I locked gazes with the pony, attempting to intimidate him, but with little success. “Fair enough,” I spat. I turned around and marched down the ramp into the main room, staring at Crimson's fortifications. I could see my team ready to strike but holding their fire with me in the line. “Crimson,” I said, “At ease. These boys claim to be with the Ministry of Morale. They wanted you to lay down your firearms and submit to arrest.”
        “Arrest? For what?” Starfire called out.
        “For some of the operations we did. Don't worry, I'm sure we can get the charges waived in due time.”
        “Yessir...” Starfire responded, sounding none-too happy about the turn of events. With much clicking and cycling, Crimson secured their weapons and were detained with haste. I noted that they missed the concealed sheath for my and Pizza's knives. They took all of our gear, and put crime scene tape over the entrance. What they didn't take from us was the clothes on our backs and the attached armor abilities, helmets not included. Looks like we'd have a Plan B if the shit hit the fan. The cuffs were tight, but not uncomfortably so. We were marched directly out of the caves onto the streets of the city proper. It wasn't long before we wound up at the MoM hub for processing.
        I had to scratch my head a little when they asked for a hoof print, but figured a hand print would suffice. They seemed to think so too. We were then transported underground and thrown into a single, large holding cell. “What do they think they're doing arresting us like that?” Lockheart said.
        “I think that maybe that leak in the CPD got wind of us taking down all his Mafia friends and decided to try for some payback. Makes me wonder what they're planning that they need Crimson out of the picture for,” I responded.
        “So what do we do now, sir?” Footfall asked.
        “One of two things. We can either sit here and wait for our release, or we can break out and stop whatever is going down. Given we have no idea what is going down, I think we should lay low and keep our ears to the ground. Make them think they've won. Then we prove them wrong,” I moved over and sat down next to the bench. Mjolnir's weight requires reinforced seating, which I doubt this cell has.
        “All we can do is wait and remain vigilant,” Pizza said. And wait we did (the guards were certainly taking their sweet time).

        I was sitting at the Arcadia bar sipping on some whiskey. I took a deep breath and let it out, for once I was getting a break from the action. I had secured furlough for the first time in my military career. Skopje was two years behind me, and although things were looking a little bleak, there certainly was a silver lining to be found at Arcadia.
        Officially, the space here was lawless, but local police still kept order. It used to be quite the vacation resort, but all that changed when the Covenant invaded back in '31. Now, it is a very quiet little place, mostly small farming communities. The population I'd estimate at about 5000 in this small outcropping, less than a million on the planet. The whiskey was nothing short of eighty proof.
        “Nice piece you got there,” a man said, taking a seat beside me.
        “Thanks, it served me well these past few years. Can't beat a Magnum for personal defense,” I replied.
        “What variant is it?”
        “Can't go wrong with the G variant in my mind, though I'm hoping to get an H model at some point.”
        “Nice choice. I keep one just like it under the pilot's seat of my ship. Damn boat broke down last supply run, so I'm grounded for the time being. Repair crews are certainly taking their sweet ass time about it.”
        It went on for a few minutes with just bits and pieces of small talk, but then an unmistakable sound screeched through air. It was the kind of screech caused by exiting slipspace in atmosphere... something only Covenant ships are capable of. Shortly thereafter, a passerby burst into the bar claiming exactly that. I racked a round into the chamber of my Magnum.
        “Damn Covenant, can't leave me alone,” I muttered, turning to the man next to me, “We're going to need to get to the spaceport and get off-world as soon as possible. I'll cover the evac, but we're going to need all the firepower we can get.”
        “Who put you in charge? There's no UNSC out here, the Covenant should leave us be.”
        “What? Like they 'should' have left Harvest alone, too? Last I checked, I'm the highest-ranking UNSC soldier here, meaning I'm in charge. Now, can you help, or should we start praying?”
        “You're UNSC? Shit, what's your rank?”
        “Corporal, why you asking?”
        “I used to be a PFC, but then...” he trailed off.
        “Then what? We can't be stalling, the Covenant are in the air and they're going to burn this world.”
        “Then I joined the Insurrection. My job is to 'redistribute' 'misplaced' items. There's a stockpile of 'misplaced' UNSC hardware not far from here. You might be able to make use of it.”
        “Take me there and I'll forget about that 'Insurrectionist' part.”
        “Right this way,” he lead me out of the bar. Spirits and Phantoms alike were dominating the skies, it looked like they were swarming towards the port. We'd have to hurry. I sprinted down the road, following the Innie pilot. He rounded a corner and burst into a building on our right side. I entered through the now-open door and watched him toss a rug aside, then he lifted the newly revealed hatch. Inside was several crates of ammo (mostly 12.7x40mm), and an absurd number of 40mm grenades. He pulled out an unmarked crate. When he opened it up, I found myself looking at dozens of M6 handguns and several M319 Grenade Launchers.
        “This will do it,” I said with a grin on my face. I grabbed an M319, opened the breach, and threw a grenade into it. Everything seemed to be working on it. I proceeded to grab as much ammo as I could reasonable carry, “This ain't gonna last long in a firefight. I'll need you to transport this to the port. That way, I should be able to make a reasonable stand. You also said your ship was in for repairs?”
        “Yeah, it's a cargo vessel. Why'd you ask?”
        “I need you to get a repair team and get to that ship. It's our Plan B. The Covenant are focusing on the port because they believe it's our only way out. If your ship's in dry dock, the Covenant might not attack it, probably considering it already out of the fight. Of course, that's assuming we're fighting Elites. Brutes would destroy it anyway.”
        “I'll do that. I just need to hotwire a car and I can tow this and you over to the port.”
        “I'll keep you covered.”
        We ran out into the street, I did a sweep of the area. There wasn't any infantry in the area, but the air was still thick with hostile craft. I saw a Banshee break off from its flight. It looked like it was heading for us. I took cover and waited for the Banshee to get in range. I was listening to the reports of its cannons as it strafed the road. When I guessed the range was right, I jumped out and let a grenade fly. I held the trigger down, wanting its EMP to take down the craft. Damn, did that grenade fly true. The Banshee was enveloped in static as it dropped right out of the sky. I think it crashed into the bar.
        I heard the rev of an engine and knew it was time to bail. I kept the window down to provide fire support for the ride over to the port. The Innie had put everything on a convenient trailer for easier transport.
        “Joe, what is going on?” a familiar voice said.
        “Still monitoring my dreams, Luna?”
        “That is not why I am here. I heard your team has been arrested.”
        “Oh, that. Well, now's the time for you to play your part.” I bounced down the road with the Innie, watching as Luna flew beside the vehicle. “I need you to tell the MoM that a manila folder recovered from the Crimson HQ needs to be transferred to the MWT. Send a courier of your choice, then tell Nocturne and Night Bloom who the courier is and where they'll be. This is very important.”
        “Joe, there is little chance I will do anything for you until you tell me what has transpired.”
        “Ma'am, this is necessary to out our spy. I gave a datapad to Iron Sides with explicit orders to get it to the MoM. Crimson's resulting arrest was part of the plan, because with that file transfer, some very valuable intel will be out in the open. That is something Chuck Finley would not pass up. Someone will bounce the courier, but they won't suspect Nocturne and Night Bloom to bounce them. When I find out who, I'll be able to trace them back to a member of Crimson, outing Chuck Finley. This plan may go deeper, but things are best kept need-to-know. So, can you find a courier and get those two thestrals in overwatch? We'll have to keep a very close eye on Crimson to make sure whatever intel slips out has a known source.”
        “So, this was all a part of your plan? To get your team arrested?”
        “Yes, ma'am. I'll point out to Crimson the value of that folder while you cut through the red tape. It should help us set the table for taking out Chuck Finley, and hopefully finding Keen Eye.” We were pulling up to the port when a Covenant carrier popped up overhead. I told the Innie to divert to the dry dock instead. There was no way those ships could make it out from under a ship like that.
        “Keen Eye, he’s your missing member?”
        “Aye. Got captured in suspicious circumstances during the Battle of Trottingham. Once we find him, I'll green-light phase two of Crimson's operations.”
        “Phase 2? Joe, you need to keep me in the loop about these things.”
        “Keeping Crimson moving forward isn't giving Chuck Finley much time to plan. Phase 2 is where Crimson effectively gets disbanded, albeit temporarily. The members are to return to their old units and train them up to be on par with Crimson. Reason being the Zebras have an easy time against Equestria's forces. Most of the time, it's Crimson that has to steal the win from the jaws of defeat. We can't be everywhere we're needed at once, and we won't be around forever. But if we can get a dozen or so Crimsons out and about, the Zebra's would have hell trying to take even an inch of Equestrian soil. That manila folder is the first step towards Phase 2 operations. Now are you looking at things how I am?”
        “Very much so. Thank you, Joe. While we are here, mind explaining this dream?”
        “More of a memory, like the one before. Happened about two years further down the line from the Battle of Skopje. This here is the Second Battle of Arcadia. We won the first battle, but the UNSC pulled out, leaving the civvies be. Officially, we're in lawless space. Unofficially, the local police are crack shots. I was on furlough, but I kept my sidearm handy. Right now, we're almost at the battleground. Where, years later, the Spartan-IV program raised an eyebrow at my performance.”
        My perspective shifted into third person, then ascended to an overhead view, as though from a satellite. I could see the hijacked vehicle speeding towards the dry dock. We clambered out of the vehicle and rushed inside. “Turns out we weren't the only ones with the idea of repairing the ships in dry dock and heading out. We found a band of survivors, maybe 400 in total. Amongst them, a repair crew. I ordered the crew to repair the Innie's ship and the civvies to pull out all cargo, except for the food and water. Damned thing is, great minds think alike. A pair of Phantoms were spotted headed our way. I took the Grenade Launcher, my Magnum, all the ammo I had, and went out to greet them.”
        I saw a figure leave the building as Phantoms passed overhead, deploying troops. “Unfortunately, this Covenant battlegroup, as I'd later learn, had just picked up a bunch of greenhorns from the planet Te. Arcadia was to be a training exercise for the new Mgalekgolo. I turned it into a baptism of fire for them. I had no armor to hinder my mobility, not that it'd protect me anyway. Later, I found out that Rtas 'Vadum was leading that battlegroup. He was so impressed with my defense of the dry dock, he gave me his sword when we finally met face to face as allies, from one warrior to another. Even the Hunters seemed impressed.”
        “I take it these 'Mgalekgolo' are the ones you call Hunters?”
        “That is correct. Nasty sons of bitches, all of them. 12 feet tall, over five tons of 'fuck you'. Covenant like to use them as tank busters.” I gazed down below as I saw myself responding to the Hunters. A dozen were dropped off, then the Phantoms skedaddled. I was running around like a madman, firing grenades at the hulking masses of worms as fast as I could load the launcher. One charged up his cannon, and I saw myself dodge to the side. “I had already done some very extensive training on Reach. The slightly lesser gravity of Arcadia was rather relaxing and helped me maneuver around the Hunters. Of course, Te has 4 times normal gravity compared to the ship-board weight room's times 2 gravity max. Overall, things turned out alright. I had to review the reports and see the footage to figure out how long I was fighting.”
        “And how long did this fight last?”
        “At the dry dock? An hour and a half. Everywhere else... even less. That Innie's ship was the last off-world. We took all those survivors with us... the sole survivors of Arcadia. I had to fly the thing past the Covenant formations and did a jump into random deep space, as per the Cole Protocol. The Innie had no combat flying experience. After the jump, I wiped the nav data, something the Innie forgot to do, and jumped again when we were ready. I did one more random jump just to make sure they lost us before I jumped back to the inner colonies. Of course, the Innie wanted dropped off at some rock en route to Reach. The non-standard slipspace drive he had installed on his cargo ship was something of a godsend, even if it was meant for smuggling. Port authority at Reach damn near shot us down with our unexpected arrival.”
        “After all of that, you were almost killed by your own forces?”
        “Yeah. The Insurrectionists had a lot of the UNSC boys spooked. Epsilon Eridani seemed to be a hot spot for rebel activity, despite being so close to Earth (hence Reach's name). For 27 years all we, as a species, did was fight the Covenant. They fought us halfway to extinction before we scored a killing blow against them. You know the story from there: Covenant Remnants fighting a war that already ended, the Second Battle of Requiem, and my deployment here to wait and listen for 'Mdama. Seems war can never leave me be.”

        I awoke in the holding cell. The rest of Crimson was still asleep, so I'd have a little time to myself. These MoM pinks would have to put us on trial, either as individuals or a group. That would mean that we'd get lawyers, and hopefully some form of communication with the outside world. That communication is what would allow us to find Chuck Finley and his associates.
        In the meantime, I still had to talk to Spectacles about the Steel Ranger file that the MoM has most likely secured. Doing so out loud would more than likely lead to Chuck Finley hearing about it, and sending word for the file. I relaxed. If this went down smoothly, it would be a very easy operation. If this job fails, continuing with Phase 2 would be the best option. Our Plan A doubled as our Plan B.
        I still needed to find Keen Eye, wherever he may be. The Legate put a hit out on me, so I was still the priority target in this fireteam. Additionally, the Legate knew we were headed to Trottingham. My train of thought was derailed when a guard banged his baton against the bars. “Hey, wake up, you lot. One of ya's missing. Where's Keen Eye?”
        “I could ask you the same thing,” I replied as Crimson stirred, “He went MIA back in Trottingham. What you see is what you get.” He growled in reply, but returned to his post shortly thereafter. “Spectacles, remind me to put IFF tags in all of Crimson's dog tags.”
        “I'm including them standard on the Steel Ranger armor. Speaking of Steel Ranger armor, I had an idea: what if the problem isn't reactor output, but coolant?”
        “What do you mean?”
        “Well, I chose the power supplies I did because the armor could keep up with the demand of the armor, but what if a coolant system could allow for a better reactor? All this time, I've been trying to improve the reactor... maintain heat loads but increase output. I might be able to find a solution if we can find sufficient coolant. Either that or go with passive joint systems, negating the need for a reactor entirely.”
        “I believe Mjolnir went through similar phases. I can actually quickly switch to air cooling for my reactor, but only for an instant. The heat loads escalate quickly, and the air expands nigh explosively. That's how the reentry thrusters work. Last I checked, the Thruster Pack is mostly an additional coolant system, providing additional vents. If I use the air coolant too frequently, the armor overloads and explodes. That's why there is a security lockout. If the occupant is alive, they need to give the code, otherwise another suit is needed to shut off coolant systems.”
        Starfire joined in, “I thought Steel Ranger armor was already in production?”
        “It never was, we were just given Spectacles' prototype suits. It was more of a proof-of-concept than anything, but right now he's trying to make the design feasible for main-line production. The reactor has been a bitch and a half to figure out. The reactor needs to provide sufficient output to make the armor function, but it also needs to last long enough to make sense for deployment. The suits you got would only last a week at most. Ideal for a strike team like ours, but too damn short for anything else.”
        “And I take it a bigger reactor just couldn't be duct taped to the thing?”
        “Exactly. Spectacles needs something that provides massive power outputs, but provides them for a very long duration. The candle needs to burn twice as bright and twice as long. A passive joint system would negate the need for power altogether, but would make the suit under-equipped. Whereas a coolant system would be dangerous, but would allow more powerful reactors. A problem with the coolant system, and boom goes the operator. The more powerful reactor would allow additional systems like an auto-doc or improved comm gear.”
        “And how long does the reactor need to last?”
        “Long enough for any foreseeable operation and then some. A year at least. Mjolnir lasts 60 times that. Come to think of it, Mjolnir might have more answers than we initially thought. What if you could produce the coolant within the armor system, and then use it as a battlefield implement once it's expended?”
        “What are you getting at, Joe?” Spectacles asked.
        “What I'm saying is, for the Covenant, they used hydrogen fluoride in their reactors, and once it was super-heated, they used it as ammo, firing it out of the main guns. Mjolnir was reverse-engineered from Covenant technology, such reverse engineering being evident in the integrated thrusters. Maybe you could find a coolant that, once superheated, can be used as a weapon?”
        “Now we're just getting ahead of ourselves here. I need the reactor figured out before I can start weaponizing everything. Besides, I'd prefer defensive options. Plus, I don't want to get too far ahead in the designs without writing something down. Don't want to forget it and have to go back to square one.”
        “Right. That leaves us here, waiting for our release. Time to play the waiting game, I guess.”
        And wait we did. Several hours passed, each member of Crimson occasionally being pulled aside for interrogations, then promptly lawyering up. They weren't coming back from the interrogation rooms, telling me things were going to be drawn out. They were playing a game of attrition... against a bunch of soldiers. Clearly, they weren't the wisest of cops.
        I hoped everything played out, and via a lawyer, Chuck Finley got word out of the Steel Ranger armor file. If so, the trap was set, baited, and ready to fuck a spy over. If not, Crimson would be divided, making it even easier to find Chuck Finley, us only needing to follow the leaks.
        “Lieutenant, come with me,” a guard said. It looked like my number came up... last, I noted.
        “Where are you taking me?” I countermanded.
        “Just across the way. Now are you gonna walk or are we gonna have to drag you?”
        “For your well-being, I'll walk. A fair bit of warning: you don't want to make an enemy of me.”
        “Oh, is that so?” I walked past the guard, only for him to strike the back of my right knee with his baton. “Who's the tough guy now, huh?”
        “If you’re so sensitive of your own stance here so as to necessitate the assertion of your dominance via aggression, you are already lesser of a man than I, for I have already won by making you so insecure.”
        “Shut it, crook!” he landed a blow to the back of my head. If it wasn't for the Carbide Ceramic Ossification augmentation, the blow probably would've cracked my skull. I wish they hadn't taken my helmet.
        I managed to get back to my feet, and I walked the rest of the way to the interrogation cell. I opted to stand, but with a motion of his baton, the guard made it clear I was to sit. I shrugged, then sat down on the flimsy chair. The poor thing wasn't nearly strong enough to withstand Mjolnir's weight, and was flattened. I stood back up, locked gazes with the guard, and shrugged. He seemed aggravated. All the better to make mistakes with.
        “You're going to tell me what happened since you showed up in Cloudsdale. Now,” he was trying to play things tough, but having faced the Flood, I knew much worse.
        “How about I don't?” I queried.
        “Oh, you will.”
        “Your lack of physical aggression tells me this room is being monitored. As such, I will not answer any questions until I have an attorney present. Is that understood?”
        “Fair enough,” it would seem I struck a nerve citing legal procedures, “And who would this attorney be?”
        “Does princess Luna count? She did form our team, place me in charge of it, and grant me the authority of an acting Captain.”
        “Unfortunately, no. Looks like you've been hung out to dry. So are you going to answer me or am I gonna half to leave you here until you do?”
        “Sir, I am a sniper. And a Spartan sniper at that. I have waited days to take a single shot, I can out wait you with much more ease... and comfort for that matter. Get me a lawyer, then we'll talk.”
        With a huff he left me in the cell. Just me and my thoughts now. I started looking at the big picture of things. Right now, Equestria has been on the defensive since the onset of the war. Unless if that changes, defeat is imminent. Problem: how to change it. Solution: send a Spartan. I would need to eliminate hostile administrative forces, officers and key politicians, while Equestria advocates for peace. I should only strike after it becomes known that peace has failed, if it does. If peace talks see success, then I abort and RTB.
        But that wouldn't do it, not in the long-term of things. I'd need a plan for total dominance. We'd need an invasion force. Before any invasion could happen, we'd need to push the Zebras back and put them on the defensive. Maybe cut off support from their allies. As their supplies dwindle, I can advance on more officers and political targets. Their assassinations would cause chaos and shift the political scale of things, hopefully, towards peace. If that fails, in the wake of the chaos, an invasion would be prime.
        It would probably be best to model the invasion after that of Normandy: multiple beaches, coalition force, and an enemy clueless about where the target is. All we'd need is a sufficient fleet to launch the assault from, a target coastline, and several supporting operations. I'd need a map and volunteers before I can go any further in the invasion planning. Until then, Equestria is best off turtling: focusing on research and defensive measures until forces are sufficiently equipped to launch a counter-assault. Problem is, this strategy only works if the enemy doesn't have an endgame planned. We need to know what they know. All the more important I find Chuck Finley.
        If I find Chuck Finley, I could potentially sway him to Equestria's side of things, and get intel on the Zebra's endgame, if it is in play. If I can't find Chuck Finley, a different agent would be necessary. It was looking more and more like we would need to operate with additional support in order to win this war. When things go to Phase 2, I'd need to talk to each of the ministries to figure out how they can find a solution to the war. Then, I'll need to get together with the commanders of Equestria's armed forces and lay down the groundwork for a counter-assault.
        Now that I have a very rough game plan, I can focus on the here and now. I took a deep breath and listened closely. I could hear two sets of hoofsteps followed by the closing of a jail cell. Some voices from two others started up from somewhere else. I reached for my fiber optic cable, only to find it missing. Apparently they were more thorough than I thought when they confiscated my equipment. After little thought, I concluded that all I could do was listen. So I did.
        I still couldn't make out the voices, but they sounded familiar. They weren't from Crimson, that much was certain. One of the guards, the one who was interrogating me, was talking to them. He sounded as pissed off as always, but a tad bit weary with his word choice. Did his boss just walk in? I heard a set of hoofsteps approach my door. I returned to behind the table and stood at parade rest, staring directly at the door. I wasn't sure his intent, so I activated my camouflage just as the door clicked open.
        “Joe, you're free to- where'd he go?!”
        “Nowhere,” I said as I de-cloaked right in front of him. Looking past him, I saw the source of the two familiar voices: Nocturne and Night Bloom. I stepped out, right past the guard as he was still trying to figure out what he just witnessed. “I take it the operation went smoothly?”
        “Yessir,” the two responded in tandem.
        “And the VIP is in custody?”
        “Cell 209, Lieutenant,” Nocturne said.
        “Well, let's have a chat with him. But first, I need you to make sure he was stripped of everything. I'll sort through his confiscated goods for anything suspicious. Try to get as much out of him as you can, but make sure you let me reveal that we know he's a spy. Nocturne, I'd suggest you open up interrogations. Night Bloom, strip him of everything then find Pinkie Pie. Knowing the MoM, she'll be a valuable asset in interrogating this turncoat.”
        The two popped salutes and ran off to the cell. I turned to the guard, “I need my gear. Get it.” He promptly returned with all of my supplies. It was nice to have my duster back on, as weathered as it may be. I loaded up all of my weapons and made sure my helmet was still in working order, albeit cracked since Trottingham. As I was situating my gear, Night Bloom ran past, dropping of all of the targets confiscated goods. She left, headed up the stairs towards the Ministry Mare.
        I sorted through the materials. Amongst the gear was a Zebra crossbow, matching the kind I saw being used by the pirates way back during the hostage situation on the island. An antique given today's arms, but whisper quiet all the same. There was also a lonesome gemstone amongst his things. It looked like there was a design embedded in its core. More than likely, a talisman of sorts. I set it aside. Next was his apparel. It was just a cloak, nothing unique about it. There was no indication it had any Zebra enchantments on it, and it didn’t match the stealth cloaks recovered outside the HQ.
        Next, I sorted through his saddlebags. There was a book on Zebra stealth tactics, and a letter. I set the letter aside for the time being. I checked the padding on his saddlebags, feeling no unusual textures or bulk. In the opposite bag, was a pouch of bits and spare bolts for the crossbow. I picked up the letter.
        Dear friend,
                We seem to have lost a package between the MoM and MWT. If you could pick it up for us before someone else takes it, we would be grateful.

-The Private

        Fucking got him. There are only two Privates in Crimson: Footfall and Fencing. However, only one was not part of the team when we did the Cloudsdale operations. Footfall was the traitor, beyond a reasonable doubt. I was still going to play this close to the chest. If Footfall goes double-agent, he would be a very valuable asset in this war. Make a friend of your foe.
        I turned from the confiscated goods and moved towards cell 209. Pinkie Pie fell in formation while I was on the walk. “What's up?” she asked in a cheery tone.
        “My team has just outed a turncoat and found an enemy spy. Problem is, we need intel on hostile operations. We’re hoping the spy defects. Right now, I'm about to interrogate the turncoat.”
        “Ooh! Can I come with?”
        “That's why I sent for you. I am not too familiar with police interrogation methods, so I'll be a wild card in there. I was hoping that you could counter-balance that aspect. Give him something to cling to.”
        “Okie Dokie Loki!” She seemed extraordinarily happy and excited for being in an administrative job and in a war. Or maybe I just needed a vacation. I am willing to bet on both.
        I knocked on the door, letting Nocturne know to wrap things up. It was nice to finally have the enemy by the balls. I heard a set of hoofsteps near the door, and I caught the end of Nocturne's interrogation, “...only this guy, doesn't know the rules to begin with. Good luck... you'll need it.” The door opened.
        I drew my Battle Rifle and plugged the suspect with a burst of TTR. Out of real bullets, still fun to shoot regardless. He fell backwards in response to being shot. “Nonlethal, still hurts like hell,” I said, calming Nocturne and Pinkie somewhat.
        I shut the door behind me and propped a chair against it, blocking the aperture. I walked around the table and propped the suspect back up. He was an earth pony with a light brown coat and blue eyes. His mane was a darker brown. I continued around the table, drawing my knife. Once he recovered his vision from the TTR burst, I planted the knife hilt deep into the center of the metal table. He jumped back, terror in his eyes. I continued my pace until I was opposite him of the table.
        “Our history tells a lot of who we are not only by what we've been through but also by how we lived it. That history carries with it a hefty weight, one that can wear down even the most stalwart of individuals. I have been through a lot, so much more than yourself judging by how you carry your weight. Regardless, I want to know your history. I want to know what made you behave how you did. Through that, I can begin to understand you.”
        “You shot me!”
        “Those were tactical training rounds, just paint. Mind you, that is my only gun loaded with such rounds.” I pulled my knife out of the table, sheathing it in my left vambrace.
        “Who the hell are you, some sort of robot?”
        “Augmented super soldier from Epsilon Indi, veteran of a particularly nasty war. And you?”
        “Princess Luna. What makes you think I'd crack that easily?”
        “I never expected you to crack. I just want to talk. Where are you from?”
        He let out a sigh, “Fillydelphia, why does it matter?”
        “Everyone's history has an origin. Can you tell me your name?”
        He seemed to be a little off-put by my benign assertions after such an aggressive greeting. “How's about you tell me yours first, then I'll see if I can give you mine?”
        “Fair enough. I am Lieutenant Joe, serving as acting Captain in the Equestrian armed forces. May I have your name now?”
        “Runner. I deliver messages and the sort.”
        “And what drove you to try and intercept that one particular package?”
        “What package?”
        “The one that lead to you being detained. The only way you'd get detained as you are now is if you made a move against another courier. A courier that had a very important package. Now, will you tell me what drove you to try and intercept that package, or should I try some other time?”
        “I want my lawyer.”
        Without another word I stood up and left. “He's all yours,” I told Pinkie, “Guard, you'll have to hold my team here for the next additional 24 hours – wartime emergency status. Nocturne, Night Bloom, you two are with me.” We left, headed straight for Luna.

        She was getting ready for the night, about to take up her royal obligations. “Ma'am,” I said.
        “Joe, you know you are the only one in Equestria to greet me like that,” came her response. The two thestrals with me were both in a deep bow.
        “I'm here to give you a status update and hopefully get a SitRep. First thing's first: has the file been successfully delivered to the MWT?”
        “Yes, the delivery went through, despite a failed attempt at an intercept by hostile agents.”
        “Then I have some good news: we have positively identified the spy that was planted within Crimson. It was a Private Footfall. We have yet to unveil such knowledge, and I intend to try and force Footfall to become a double agent. The evidence identifying him is a combination of two letters: one recovered from Dodge Junction, a Mafia dead drop. It requested information pertaining to the Crimson Guard, indicating Chuck Finley was not a member when such a name was coined. The second letter is requesting another agent to intercept the file, and it positively identifies Chuck Finley as a Private. Of the two Privates in the Crimson Guard, only one was not a member when the name was made.”
        “Sounds a little too far-fetched for the martial courts to accept. What context is this information in?”
        “Early on in Crimson's incursion into Trottingham, a hostile sniper was found using a captured Equestrian rifle. Upon his elimination, a message was recovered from him. Initially indecipherable, I managed to get it translated. It was a kill-order on me, issued by the Legate. Problem being, only the General in the Marejave and Crimson itself knew about our incursion into the city. For the enemy to have solid intel on such operations, they would need to be in Crimson, or the Marejave General himself. We traveled too fast for the General to send word quickly enough for such an equipped sniper to be in such a position. This indicates that a spy was in Crimson, possibly the same information leak detected back in Cloudsdale.”
        “Can you back this up with more than corresponding testimonies?”
        “Yes, ma'am. I have a standard-issue neural implant. It records everything I see and hear for review on a later date. It should also be known that the Trottingham sniper having a captured Equestrian rifle was more than coincidence. That combination of rifle and its rounds are capable of penetrating my armor system with skillfully placed shots, something that the Zebras may have grown privy to during previous Crimson operations.”
        “And for this information leak, instead of eliminating him, you want to use him to our advantage?”
        “At least for the time being, if at all possible. One option is if he can't be swayed, he can be deceived. We can handle false intel, and ferry it to the enemy as such. Problem being, that would turn all of Crimson from an SF unit into an intelligence asset. I believe that if a double agent can't be made of Footfall, it would be best to try and establish other intelligence assets. That being said, we need to out him.”
        “Hmm... exactly how would he have leaked intel to the Zebras in Trottingham?”
        “He was briefed on the operation, our pentathlon, moments prior to its launch. During the execution of which, he had one to three opportunities to inform the Zebras in Trottingham. The first was our raid on the Marecago clock tower, when we were making our move on Al Capony. Pizza and I entered the tower, Footfall stayed outside, alone, during our entire assault. I didn't see him again until evac. Additionally, he sat out for most of the Battle of Neighagra. Lastly, he stayed behind in the Marejave to keep an eye on a wounded Starfire. My money's on the first opportunity being when he spilled the beans about our five-prong assault to the Zebras.”
        “And the rest of Crimson?”
        “The rest of Crimson, on and off, all had similar opportunities, but the rest of the evidence doesn't make any sense when put in that frame of mind. Footfall is the only one to fit the picture, and he fits it perfectly.”
        “Then we have enough to act. Has Pinkie been informed about this?”
        “Affirmative. I left her with Footfall's associate who went after our courier. He said his name was Runner.”
        “Good. Then we have the right pony. The courier I chose was Ditzy Doo. It was a bit of a risk with her reputation for deliveries, but she has made several deliveries for us in the past.”
        “You were predictable, which was perfect given the operation. But for future reference, try to establish a team of couriers, maybe send them out simultaneously in order to make it harder for an intercept. You won't need to have a Nocturne or Night Bloom keeping a watchful eye then.”
        “After today's events, I think I will. Anyways, let us go and see this Footfall. Bring the evidence if you have it. We can now establish a military tribunal and put Footfall on trial. Just be mindful, he may still be innocent. The purpose of a court martial is to determine such guilt.”
        “He’s getting a court martial?”
        “Yes, Joe. It is standard for high crimes in the military.”
        “Don’t you think it is a little high-profile?”
        “Are you taking his side in this?”
        “Ma'am, we need to do this right. The legal system is thorough, but it keeps records. We would be foolish to assume that Footfall is unique in his being an enemy spy. To forgo the legal processes would be to keep a low profile about this. Maybe see if Pinkie can have a use for him. If he won’t defect, then a court martial would be the best course of action.”
        “Fair enough. You have done well by us thus far, and it would be best to return the favor. I will go and see if he can be convinced, you get the evidence to the MoM.”
        “Yes, ma'am. One last thing: I would like to have Nocturne and Night Bloom in my team. They've performed admirably and without fault. I think they have what it takes to make it in the Special Forces.”
        “Nocturne, Night Bloom, would you enjoy being in Joe's Crimson Guard?”
        “We've heard the reports of them, your majesty,” Nocturne said.
        “We'd be honored to join the crew, Princess,” Night Bloom added.
        “Then it is done. Back to the topic of the court martial. Joe, I believe the MoM would be best to handle this case if Footfall fails to rejoin Equestria, do you think so?”
        “Yes, ma'am. They possess expert knowledge of the legal process and would dispense justice with an incontestable gavel... in my mind at least. It would also save us all from a headache.”
        “Very much so. I must be off, aristocrats do not like to wait. Joe, get the evidence to the MoM and get your two new squadmates situated.”
        “Yes, ma'am. Nocturne, Night Bloom, get your things. We’ll rendezvous in the MoM cell block.”

        Night fell as the Mongoose made the sprint back into the Everfree. I was back in the Shades. I went home to gather the evidence. Another lengthy drive later and I found myself in the MoM hub once again. I talked over the case with Pinkie Pie herself, and then handed over the evidence that I had gathered. I made sure to include the datapad from their case against my team. It had all the neural implant footage that further incriminated Footfall. Luna had already pardoned my team for all of our “military operations against threats, both foreign and domestic, of Equestria”.
        I descended the stairs to the cell block, linking up with the thestrals. “Guard, release all members of the Crimson Guard, save for Private Footfall,” I told the guard on duty. Shortly thereafter my team was assembled in front of me again, minus the traitor. “Crimson, we've gained a pair of new recruits, and Luna has pardoned us of our crimes. Let's RTB and welcome the newbies. We've also got to debrief about the next phase of Crimson Ops.”

        
____________________________________________________________________________________________

        “That was close. Now, what does this have to do with the Infinity?”
        “The Infinity was lost shortly after your deployment. Sabotage is the most popular theory. Given Crimson being the last boots off, you are the lead suspect.”
        “Why wasn’t I informed of this?”
        “It would bias your story, and frankly, if your story reaches someone not so open-minded, like the Admiral, it makes you look insane.”
        “And you think I’m not?”
        “That remains to be seen. I would like to see this world, given how you’ve described.”
        “Trust me you don’t, but we don’t have a choice about it. Now then, I assume my gear is still on the bird that brought me in?”
        “Yes, but it is under guard.”
        “Good thing I’ve picked up some tricks. We probably will need to get to Sanghelios first, however. Honor runs deep amongst Elites. Maybe they still recognize Rtas ‘Vadum’s Energy Sword?”