Adal came to with a shout, panting and furiously looking around with wide eyes. He quickly brought his HK416 up, assuming the proper stance for quickly engaging at close range from a supine position. He scanned the immediate area, noting in the back of his mind that he was in some kind of forest, the bright sunlight suggesting it was midday.
There were no attackers, no sounds other than the wildlife…which was wrong. Very wrong.
Despite the absence of immediate threats being cause for concern, it still granted him permission to relax somewhat. He put his rifle to his side and immediately glanced down at his plate carrier, both hands feeling it for the holes that he knew should’ve been there. Not only were there no holes, there wasn’t any damage whatsoever; no burn marks, no ripped material, not even dirt. It was if he’d just been issued the thing.
“Where the fuck am I?” he said, very much remembering where he’d been before blacking out…and feeling a rare shiver run through him as he remembered why. The battle had been a complete rout, only a handful of the people he’d been protecting able to escape, none of them his fellow fighters.
Most people would probably believe they were now in the afterlife, but Adal wasn’t one of them. For starters, he didn’t believe in it, so he wouldn’t consider this to be it without proof. For another, every religious nut he’d ever heard mentioned facing judgment from whatever they called their god. He’d gotten no such judgment (and he would’ve had some choice words for said god if he had).
Finally, if he’d automatically been condemned to Hell, whomever had sent him didn’t know the meaning of the word. Where Adal had been was Hell, plain and simple.
“Not going to learn a goddamned thing just sitting here,” he grumped, reaching up to feel his head and only mildly surprised to find his Spec-Ops helmet on his head. Taking a quick look over himself, he actually scowled a bit when he saw he not only still had all his combat gear on, but it was all pristine and new. Something was seriously messed up here.
Keying his mike, Adal said “Sheepdog Leader to any remaining units, come in.”
There was no reply, only static. It could mean his men had simply fallen out of range if they’d landed here…but somehow he doubted it. He was on his own.
He was willing to bet the map he had was now useless, so he pulled out his compass. Holding it level, his hand still steady after all these years, he was pleased to see north and south still seemed to work, the needle pointing to the former. Making sure his rifle was slung securely, he started on his way, moving quickly but staying alert.
He barely made it five feet before he got yet another shock.
---***---
“My hut? No fucking way. No fucking way in hell,” he said, seriously starting to wonder if he’d perhaps gone insane. Landing here by himself, cleaned up and fully-kitted out, was one thing…but his hut as well?
Marching up, he threw the poncho entrance aside…and growled in growing anger and frustration. His hut, like himself, was new as could be, all his gear, weapons and living arrangements set up as they‘d been the day he‘d built the damn thing. If nothing else, this now confirmed he was not in the afterlife. Heaven surely had no place for those like him, and Hell wouldn’t grant him such luxuries. However, seeing as his hut had been blown sky high in the mortar attack preceding the main rush, there was something not normal going on here.
Moving in, he calmed himself by going through all his gear, satisfied that his massive stockpile of ammo was intact, all the magazines full and ready to go. His assault pack was hanging at the end of a rack of uniforms, stocked and ready to go. He quickly went through the contents, satisfied with what was in it, and slung it on his back, quickly finding the Camelbak’s hose and getting a mouthful of water.
He started to leave, then moved back to the equipment rack and picked out a Gemtech suppressor for his Glock 17. He had no idea where he was or what he could potentially be dealing with, so stealth was a must for now. Granted, as good as he was, he wasn’t about to look for trouble by himself. Stepping back outside, he found north again and started on his way.
---***---
While Adal was aware of the chances of getting lost in this strange new forest, he wasn’t eager to have someone follow a trail back to his hut. Thankfully, it seemed even this forest allowed him to use the same subtle methods he’d learned in basic training and Ranger School. A broken branch here, a specially shaped rock pointed just right there, all things that wouldn’t be noticed by anyone who didn’t know to look for them. His ears and nose told him he was getting close to some kind of civilization, the smell of equines growing stronger in the forest.
And then he stiffened, tightening his grip on his rifle. The sound of gunfire could be heard, faint but unmistakable. They were steady, but spaced far apart, telling him it wasn’t a battle. Then he heard what sounded like…twangs? They could’ve been quite a few things, but combined with the gunshots, some of those things weren’t good.
He moved forward, seeing the forest was starting to thin. The smell of smoke came to him now, his pace quickening while he remained on alert.
Seeing the forest ending a few yards ahead, he crouched down, letting his ATACs uniform and OD green gear blend in with the forest around him as he crept forward. Stopping by a large tree, he dropped down onto his stomach.
He could make out what appeared to be a town, but aside from what looked like wood-burning smoke rising into the sky, he couldn’t make out many details.
The scope on his rifle was an ACOG, with a 4x magnification. However, that wasn’t enough for the job, so keeping his rifle at hand, he pulled a monocular from a pouch on his plate carrier.
The 15x magnification brought what lay beyond the forest more into view, revealing it to be a town; rural by the looks of things. He couldn’t see where the smoke columns were coming from, but…
He stiffened again, watching as what appeared to be an equine race into view, stumbling and almost falling. She turned, Adal’s eyes widening as he saw her clothing was torn, exposing her chest. She fell down again, another figure stepping into view. This…well, it appeared to be a canine, but, he was dressed in scraps of armor and looked like he hadn’t had a bath in months.
Adal ground his teeth as the canine kicked the mare, then grabbed her by the mane and jammed a pistol to her head. The mare got back to her hooves and went with him, disappearing behind a building. Adal felt his rage grow as he recalled the steady, spaced shots of a pistol.
There was little cover between his location and the closest building, so he had to make up for it by rushing. He kept his rifle stock against his shoulder, ready to bring the barrel up in a second. The sounds of gunfire and the twangs grew louder, and the smoke smell was growing stronger. He could also make out the sounds of yells, growls and screams, guttural voices shouting orders in broken sentences.
He crouched next to a building, taking a moment to note that it was a home, then slid to the corner. Laying down, he peeked around the corner…and only years of training and experience kept him from experiencing shock and horror.
More canines, dressed similar to the one he’d seen, moved about, shoving ponies along with what appeared to be crossbows. He soon found the one with the pistol, this one seeming to be a leader, waving his gun here and there and shouting orders in broken speech.
As Adal watched, what appeared to be a lanky yellow stallion was brought up by a pair of the thugs, who looked like bulldogs up close. He wore a baker’s outfit, and while he wasn’t at all intimidating, Adal saw him glare up at the leader in defiance. The look of defiance melted away, however, when another pair of canines brought up what had to be his wife. The mare, blue and plump, held two sobbing foals in her arms, hugging them against her chest protectively.
Adal quickly noted that there were no more sounds of the crossbows, suggesting he was looking at all members of this little party, there being about eight in all. And their attention was currently focused their captives, not a single one looking out.
Slinging his rifle behind his back, Adal drew his Glock and began to sneak around the building, watching the bulldogs closely. He could see the leader talking, waving the pistol around a bit before pointing it at the mare. He brought the pistol up and began to fire, the Glock’s modified sights easily clearing the suppressor.
It took skill to fire a pistol accurately in rapid succession. Adal had plenty of such skill, his shots capping four in the head before the group realized what was going on. They clearly didn’t know much about gunfights, as rather than scrambling for cover or going to ground, they just stood there. He double-tapped another two in the chest, the pistol-wielder finally starting to bring his gun up before a single shot took him in the belly, the bulldog falling to the ground and going into a fetal position.
The last one was trying to back peddle and aim his crossbow at the same time, a single bolt shooting over Adal’s head before the bulldog’s own head exploded. Adal turned back to the leader, pistol leveled at him as he moved up and kicked his gun away.
“Everyone alright?” he asked, quickly scanning the crowd of mares and stallions even as he did a quick reload, seeing signs of rough treatment, but nothing requiring medical attention. He noted the uneasy looks they gave him, but none made a move against him.
“Look out!” came a cry, one of the equines pointing down at the canine. Adal’s eyes snapped back to him…then widened as he saw what appeared to be a bundle of dynamite in his hand.
“We shall be avenged!” he snarled, producing a lit match and lighting the bomb’s wick, then struggling to his feet and coming at Adal.
Adal charged him, grabbing the wrist of the hand holding the bomb and twisting it, forcing his fingers open. He dropped to his side a second later, catching the bomb before it hit the ground, then putting a round into the canine’s kneecap at almost point blank range.
Seeing the fuse rapidly burning, Adal did a quick look around, spying the best place he could throw it and doing so in one quick movement.
“GET DOWN!” he roared, watching the bomb land close to a building that appeared to resemble a gingerbread house. He himself hit the deck just as the bomb went off, flooding his ears with ringing and his nose with the scent of cordite.
He’d gotten the bomb away from the crowd, but he himself was still close to it. Too close, he discovered, as he was lifted up and thrown away, landing hard several feet away. He gasped and coughed, winded, yet mostly uninjured. His ears were still ringing and he was distantly aware of the taste of copper in his mouth, but aside from that, he was alright.
He got up, trying to ignore the ringing in his ears…and suddenly felt an electric jolt run through his body, making him go rigid. Even as the pain hit him, he recognized it as a taser shot…only he hadn’t felt any wires hit him beforehand.
He fell back to his knees and rolled over onto his back, his vision rapidly growing dark as consciousness began to leave him. Enough of it remained, however, for him to see a strange sight: Chariots, pulled by more equines, landing all over the place, more equines with armor and swords spreading out.
He was about to make a quip about the cavalry always being late…when he noticed these new equines had…wings and horns?
Then he knew only darkness.