//------------------------------// // Prologue - The Liberation of Hamilton // Story: Preston Marlowe Goes to Equestria // by Bill the Storyteller //------------------------------// [Pvt. Preston Marlowe - 222nd Army Battalion, Bravo Company, US Army] [May 14, 2010, 0512 Romeo Time] [US-Canada Border, Niagara, ON, Canada] Here we were again, Bad Company. We prevented the Russian plot to detonate a scalar weapon over the United States, but the war was far from over. Turns out that the scalar weapon was merely a distraction for the Russians to invade us from the North. Right after the destruction of the scalar weapon, we got word that the Russians were coming through Alaska, and in just a matter of days, we've already lost Alaska and most of Canada to the Russian occupation. The tide of the war once again turned in favor for the Russians. With the Russians at our doorstep, we have only one chance to turn the tide back in our favor. Today, a majority of the United States Armed Forces were about to stage a massive counterattack across Canada to retake strategic locations and stem the tide of the Russian invasion. And that's where we come in. Bad Company was the same as always. Just me, Sarge, Haggard, and Sweetwater. We were tagging along with a detachment of US troops to Niagara, where we would be tasked in retaking the province of Ontario. When asked why we would be sent to Ontario, rather than attack from British Columbia and then work our way up to Alaska, we were just told that Ontario was of strategic importance. Not that I'm complaining about it anyways. After a couple of hours on the road, we finally arrived at the Canadian border near Queenston. Haggard immediately woke up from his nap when our humvee pulled over next to a row of parked vehicles. “Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty,” Sarge said from the passenger side. “We've here.” “Already?” Haggard yawned. “The whole ride felt like ten minutes...” “Yeah, well lucky you,” Sweetwater rolled his eyes as he shut off the engine. “You got a good night's rest and a nice nap on our way over here. Meanwhile, the rest of us hardly got any sleep on account of your snoring.” Haggard pouted. “I don't snore.” “Oh yeah? How about that one time when you-” “Cut the chatter you two,” Sarge interrupted, rubbing his temple in annoyance. “Let's just get this over with. The sooner we kick the Russians back to Moscow, the sooner we can all go back home.” The four of us stepped out of our humvee, where we were greeted with helicopters and jets flying above us in the early morning sunrise. Around us, the entire Canadian border was transformed into a front line position. Tanks, armored personnel carriers, and humvees were getting fueled up and rearmed for the battle ahead. Soldiers were running all over the places, reporting to their squads. And rows of artillery placements were on standby and ready to fire when their coordinates were received. “Boys, welcome to Canada,” Sarge declared, stopping at the flagpoles which flew our stars and stripes flag, and the Canadian's maple leaf flag. “Home of ice hockey, maple syrup, and geese.” Sweetwater, Haggard, and I looked around, the atmosphere not feeling like Canada at all. “Could be worse, I guess,” he shrugged. Haggard gave the air a whiff, then grimaced as though he smelt something bad. “This is Canada? Smells worse than Detroit.” “That's because we're close to the front line, Hags,” Sweetwater commented. “There's obviously going to be the smell of fuel and artillery smoke nearby.” “I didn't ask for your input, you mallrat,” Haggard grumbled. “I'm just saying-” “Alright you two, settle down,” Sarge sighed. “You don't see Marlowe complaining about the scenery, do you?” “Gentlemen,” a voice from behind got our attention. “I see you all made it here on time.” Turning around, we were greeted by our handler, General Braidwood, army commander and leader of the Special Activities Division. “Squad, ten-hut!” All four of us stood at attention and saluted to the four-star general in front of us. “Sir! Bravo Two, reporting for duty, sir!” Sarge announced. “At ease, gentlemen,” Braidwood commanded. “I'd take it that your trip to Niagara was uneventful?” “All due respect, sir, why did you send us here to Ontario?” Sweetwater asked. “Shouldn't we be sent to the west coast, and then press forward to Alaska?” “Sweets,” I muttered softly, reminding him that despite our reputation as Bad Company, we were still in the presence of a high ranking officer. “It's like I've told you before, Ontario is of strategic importance,” Braidwood explained. “The province is rich with petroleum, which we and our Canadian friends will need in order to win this war, and there are several military bases that will be vital for our air force. Plus, eastern provinces like Ontario and Quebec, are less occupied by the Russians. “According to intelligence, the Russian Army is stretched thin around here and they're being bogged down by unrelenting resistance from our Canadian allies still stuck in between the occupation. If we can retake Ontario and the eastern provinces nearby, we'll have more breathing room and supplies to push westwards into Alaska. What's more is that retaking the eastern provinces will give us access to naval ports in places like Newfoundland and Labrador, opening up another supply route for us. With you gentlemen on our side, I have high hopes that we will make short work of Ontario and the eastern provinces by the end of the day. Make sense?” “I suppose,” Sweetwater replied, somewhat convinced. Braidwood stood tall and began pacing around, acting all official. “Then you have nothing to worry about. Your task for today will be to join up with the 1st Armored Cavalry in retaking Hamilton, a port city that's a few miles west of here. Russian occupation there is pretty small, so liberating the city shouldn't be too difficult. After Hamilton has been retaken, you'll then be pushing north into Toronto to secure the rest of the harbor for our naval supply ships coming in from the St. Lawrence River. From here on out, it's smooth sailing as the rest of our forces move across the Canadian border in different time zones to retake the remaining provinces. This will perhaps be the largest invasion since D-Day that we'll be taking part in, and if all goes well, we'll be victorious. Before long, Alaska will be liberated, and we'll be marching over the crumbling ruins of Moscow before returning home in a parade to Times Square. Any other questions?” “No sir,” Sarge replied. Briadwood nodded. “The operation begins at 0700 hours. Good luck, gentlemen. The Free World is counting on us all. Dismissed!” ****** [A few miles outside Hamilton] “Soldiers of the United States Armed Forces. In less than an hour, you will all be taking part in what will be the largest invasion since D-Day, to once again fight against tyranny and restore peace and honor to our Free World. This will not be an easy task, for the enemy has an overwhelming advantage, and like you, they will not go down without a bloody fight. But think of your loved ones back home, and the future that awaits them should the enemy reign victorious. Anyone that threatens your homes and family, you will show them no mercy. When you meet the enemy out there, pursue them ruthlessly and prosecute their defeat and destruction with the utmost efficiency, with every single weapon you have. Give them no quarter, and we will no doubt achieve victory. I have absolute faith in all of you. Remember what you've trained for and keep each other safe. Good luck, and godspeed.” This was General Braidwood's speech from an hour ago, before the operation began. We were there to see him in person to make the speech, while those in different time zones watched a live broadcast. The speech was more like him pretending to be Eisenhower on D-Day, but nonetheless, it inspired the troops and boosted morale. Once Braidwood had his chance to roleplay as Ike, we set off to our first objective: the City of Hamilton. We were linked up with the 1st Armored Cavalry, some old buddies we had fought alongside in Chile. Our task was simple: push into Hamilton, retake the city, then it's off to Toronto. Once we have those two cities back under allied control, it's up to the rest of the troops in different time zones to complete their objectives. Meanwhile, we'd just sit back and relax at some cafe patio in Toronto and await further orders. We were up front with the rest of the humvees, the tanks and armored vehicles tailing us from behind. Haggard was on the wheel this time, while Sweetwater sat at the back, taking a little nap before we arrived in Hamilton. Sarge rode shotgun and I was on the mounted gun, keeping an eye out for threats. Halfway to our objective, the radio crackled. “Bravo Two, this is Kodiak One. Come in, over?” Sarge picked up the radio and responded. “Go ahead, Kodiak One.” “Bravo Two, be advised, we're coming up to our first objective. Stay on guard, you hear?” “Roger that, Kodiak One. Thanks for the reminder.” Sarge shook Sweetwater awake, prompting him to sit up straight. “Alright boys, this is it! We're getting close to the city, so keep your eyes out for anything suspicious. Marlowe, if you see anyone speaking Russian out there, light 'em up!” “Copy that, Sarge.” Up ahead, we could see the City of Hamilton closing in to view. The city looked empty of any Russian occupation. “It's quiet. Too damn quiet,” Sweetwater whispered. “Think the Russians pulled out, knowing that we were coming?” “If that's the case, then today must be our lucky day,” Haggard laughed. “I doubt it,” Sarge muttered. “More likely that they've set a trap for us, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike us. Everyone, keep your shit tight.” As we got closer to the city, another humvee drove ahead of us, their mounted gunner keeping a constant watch like I was. “Kodiak One, this is Sentinel Three. City looks quiet. I think they might have-” All of a sudden, the humvee exploded into a massive fireball as it drove into a concealed land mine. The humvee flew a few feet in the air, before landing on its side. Everyone inside the vehicle was instantly killed, except for the gunner. He fell out onto the road, stumbling around and screaming as he was burned alive. His suffering came to a swift end when a hailstorm of bullets flew in our direction and tore him apart. What followed immediately was more bullets and an artillery barrage. “Motherfucker!” Haggard cussed, slamming on the brakes. “AMBUSH!” Sarge yelled. I held down the trigger of the .50 cal and sprayed downrange while the rest of the squad rolled down the windows and returned fire. At once, every vehicle stopped and began engaging the enemy. Up ahead, Russian tanks that had been camouflaged in the foliage nearby started moving out of cover, followed by infantry. Soon, we began taking casualties as our own vehicles were getting demolished by the enemy. “There's too many of these fuckers out there,” said Kodiak One. “We're going to need to fallback and call in air support down here.” “I hear you, Kodiak One,” Sarge responded, immediately switching radio stations to call for air support. “Archangel, this is Bravo Two Actual. We're taking heavy fire from hostile armor and infantry near the city. Sustaining multiple casualties. Road ahead is possibly booby-trapped. We cannot advance at this time. Requesting CAS mission at our current location.” The radio cracked in response. “Solid copy, Bravo Two. Air support is on its way. ETA, ten mikes. Fall back 1500m and sit tight. This is gonna be a big one.” “Solid copy, Archangel,” Sarge switched the channels to all remaining allied vehicles. “Everyone, fall back 1500m and dig in! Air support is coming in fast, and they're bringing in a big payload to destroy everything in front of us!” “Solid copy, Bravo Two,” Kodiak One replied. “Let's get the hell out of here!” Every surviving tank and humvee went into reverse gear and started falling back to a safe distance. About 700m to the safe spot, Kodiak One was incapacitated by enemy tank fire coming from the west. “T-90s and infantry on our left,” Sweetwater said. “They're trying to cut us off!” “Those boys are stuck back there,” Sarge muttered. He picked up the radio and attempted to contact the downed tank, which was now on fire and its left tracks destroyed. “Kodiak One, come in. Kodiak One, respond! Are you alright?!” A static response came on our radio. “This is...Kodiak One!” the tank commander coughed. “Everyone's fine, but I think Jackson's hurt bad. We're gonna ditch this tank and try to make a run for it!” “Those boys aren't going to make it like this,” Sarge muttered. He groaned and punched the radio, immediately regretting what he was about to do. “Solid copy, Kodiak One. We're on our way to give you boys a ride out of here. Get out of that smoldering tin can and watch your heads while you're at it.” “You sure we should go back for them?” Haggard asked. “Don't you think they can make it back on foot?” “With a wounded man while under heavy fire?” Sarge shook his head. “They're definitely going to need our help, Hags. And we don't leave a man behind.” Haggard grinned and put the vehicle back into forward position. “You read my mind, Sarge. Let's go get 'em.” “We better hurry though,” said Sweetwater. “If we don't get to a safe distance in eight minutes, we're fucked.” With that, we drove back to the smoldering remains of Kodiak One, where the tank crew was already evacuating the tank. Smoke billowed out of the tank's hatch, as the three crew members struggled to pull their wounded driver out. They were constantly ducking and weaving as bullets impacted their tank. “They're taking heavy fire,” said Sarge. “Marlowe, hose down those sons of bitches while Sweets and I get them on board!” “Copy that, Sarge!” I responded back to the enemy with another barrage of .50 calibre rounds as Haggard pulled up beside the tank. Sarge and Sweetwater hopped out of the humvee and began helping out the crew of Kodiak One. Their driver, Jackson, had taken shrapnel to his left leg, so he was definitely going to need a hand in getting to safety. Once he was safely out of the tank, Sarge and Sweetwater did their best to load everyone in our humvee. As I continued to provide covering fire, a T-90 started aiming at us. “Sarge, they got a lock on us! We gotta go!” “Hang in there, Marlowe!” Sarge responded. “We're trying to get everyone inside the humvee!” “There's no more room in the back, Sarge!” Sweetwater cried. “Then we improvise! Get on the top and hold on tight!” “Are you crazy?!” “Just do it!” I watched in astonishment as Sarge and Sweetwater threw themselves on the top of the humvee and held on as tightly as they could. Sarge pounded on the roof. “Everyone's on board! Get us the hell out of here!” “Roger that, Sarge! Hold on tight!” Haggard stepped down on the gas pedal and took off, just as the T-90 fired its shell and destroyed what was left of Kodiak One's tank. Our humvee swerved right and left at high speed while bullets and shells flew over our heads. “Oh shit! Shit! Shit!” Sweetwater cursed as he clung tightly to the roof for dear life. “Hang on, Sweets! Don't let go!” Sarge called out. Through all the gunfire and chaos, I could hear Kodiak One's tank commander trying to talk with us. “Thanks for coming back for us, Bravo Two. That's twice we owe you. If we survive this, beers are on me later.” “Well, if we get through this, I'm treating you all to a REAL Texas-style barbecue,” Haggard replied cheerfully. “Oh shit, look out!” I pointed as a rocket flew by and exploded in front of us. Haggard slammed the brakes, the humvee spiraling out of control. At this point, Sweetwater and Sarge had lost their grip and they fell onto the road. Our humvee came to a jarring halt as it crashed into an abandoned APC, putting it out of commission. That wasn't the worst part. The worst part was that we were still 300m away from the safe zone. “Ah, shit...” Sarge groaned. “Oh, that smarts,” Sweetwater winced. “Definitely going to feel that one in the morning...” “You guys alright?” I called out. “We're fine,” Sarge replied, before having to duck his head as more rounds flew over him and Sweetwater. “Shit! We need to get out of here!” He pulled Sweetwater up on his feet and began making a run back to the humvee. “Haggard! Get that hummer back on!” Haggard turned the key, trying to get the humvee operating, but all he could hear was the sound of the engine stalling out. Smoke began pouring out from the hood, and after a few more turns, Haggard gave up and punched the wheel. “Fucking hell, Sarge! The damn thing won't start!” “Goddamn it!” Sarge growled. “Everyone get the fuck out and take cover!” We grabbed our guns and exited the humvee, taking cover behind the APC. At this point, we were pinned down and had nowhere to go. The Russians that had attacked us on our left flank were now closing in, and if we tried making a run for it, we would no doubt get tagged. Our allies from a safe distance tried to provide suppressing fire, but they were doing too little to help us at this point. “We gotta get out of here!” Sweetwater said. “We can't!” Sarge replied. “If we try to make a run for it, we're fucked! We also got wounded, so there's no way we can just sprint to a safe distance.” “Then what do we do? Sit here and die?!” Sweetwater exclaimed. “Um, guys,” one of the crew members of Kodiak One had peeked his head before getting back into cover. “We have a problem.” We took turns peeking out to see the same T-90 on the road, taking aim at the wreckage we were hiding behind. As we got back into cover, another transmission was heard over our earpieces. “Bravo Two, you boys need to get the hell out of there! That air strike will be here in five, and if you don't hunker down soon, there's going to be nothing left of you to bury.” I examined our surroundings, trying to figure out an escape plan. I took a quick glance at our crashed humvee. Whatever was wrong with the engine, there was no doubt I could try to get it back up and running, but at this point, it wouldn't matter. We'd either be overrun by the enemy, or get taken out by the air strike once I got it working again. And then, it hit me. ****** [A Few Hours Earlier...] [Syracuse, New York] We had spent the night in Syracuse, before setting out for Niagara at three in the morning. We were just about packed up and ready to go when I saw Haggard hauling two duffle bags of heavy cargo into the trunk of our humvee. “Hey Haggard,” I waved. “Need a hand?” “Oh, morning Pres,” he greeted. “You mind giving me a hand with one of these bags?” “Sure thing,” I set down my cup of coffee and went over to help load whatever it was he was carrying. Picking up one of the bags, I could tell it was quite heavy, but it was nothing I couldn't handle. “Fuck, this is heavy,” I muttered. “What are you carrying in these bags, anyway?” I set the bag into the trunk, where it slightly opened to reveal a bunch of C4 inside. I backed away, feeling a little apprehensive at the sight of that many explosives. Especially as Haggard loaded the last bag of what I assume was more C4 into the trunk. “Uh, Hags, where'd you get all of this C4?” I asked. “Surprised you, didn't I?” Haggard chuckled. “I managed to sweet-talk the quartermaster when we were getting our weapons and gear. Nice looking gal, by the way. I told her we were going to need some C4 for the operation ahead, and after much convincing, she managed to give us enough explosive to blow up a whole damn town! Turns out their armory here is overstocked with explosives, and they barely use it for whatever damn reason, so she was more than happy to throw in a little extra for our cause.” I took another look at the bags. “That's a lot of C4 you managed to get your hands on. Hags, why do we even need this shit anyways?” “Well, you never know,” Haggard shrugged. “Might come in handy. Plus, isn't it always fun to blow shit up?” I shook my head in amusement. “I swear, Hags, if it wasn't for your good sense of humor, I would've preferred going to prison than joining up with Bad Company. So, uh, is it safe to drive around like this?” “Um, sure! Totally safe,” Haggard nodded, giving the bags a light shove. “So long as it's not armed and we don't have a road accident, we'll be fine.” “Alright, I'll take your word on that,” I chuckled nervously. I picked up my coffee and walked back to the barracks to get Sarge and Sweetwater, all the while muttering, “Why do I even put up with you sometimes?” ****** [Present Day] “Hags, you still got all that C4, right?” I asked. “C4?!” Everyone turned around and stared at us. Haggard, nor I, bothered to tell Sarge or Sweetwater about the C4 in the trunk earlier, lest Sarge had us reprimanded. “It's always been in the trunk,” Haggard answered. “In the trunk?!” “Shut up, Sweets,” Sarge interrupted, grabbing Haggard by the shoulder. “What C4?” “Uh, the one I managed to sweet-talk the quartermaster into giving us?” Haggard replied sheepishly. Sarge gave him a hard look, before facepalming. “Why do you ask, Pres?” “Arm it. All of it,” I said, pulling out a power tool from my satchel. “What are you up to, Marlowe?” Sarge asked. “I'm gonna buy you guys time to get to safety,” I said, peeking out from the APC. “I think I know what might be wrong with the engine. If you guys can cover me while I fix it, I can take the humvee and divert the enemy's fire to myself while you guys get away.” “No can do,” Sarge shook his head. “I think I know what you're planning, and I can tell you right now that this plan of yours is suicide, and that there's no way you'd survive.” “There's no other way, Sarge,” I argued. “We're running out of time. We either do this now, or we die. Simple as that.” Sarge turned away, pondering about it for a few seconds before he finally agreed. “Okay Marlowe, if you’re willing to put yourself in harm's way for this plan of yours, fine by me.” He gathered all of us together. “Everyone listen up! Marlowe has a plan on getting us out of here, but to do that, we're all going to have to help him and Haggard out.” He looked over at Jackson and the rest of the Kodiak One crew. “Soldier, can you shoot?” Jackson, whose left leg was bandaged from shrapnel wounds, nodded. “Don't worry, sir. I'm not out of the fight, yet.” “Good,” Sarge nodded. “Kodiak One, you will be providing covering fire for Marlowe while he goes and fixes the hummer. Sweetwater, you and I will cover Hags as he retrieves the C4 from the trunk. We only got one shot at this, so let's make it count. Everyone clear on this?” “YES SIR!” “Good! Let's get to work! Marlowe, get ready to hop over and fix that hummer. Haggard, watch your head and grab that C4 of yours.” I stood up from the ground, preparing to climb over the APC. Haggard stood at the ready, preparing to run to the trunk. Everyone else got their guns loaded, preparing to step out of cover and provide covering fire. “On my mark,” Sarge whispered. We counted to three seconds, before the T-90 fired again, its shell exploding near our right. “COVERING FIRE!” We all sprang into action. Sarge, Sweetwater, and the crew of Kodiak One provided covering fire at the enemy as I bounded over the APC and landed in front of the humvee. I lifted the hood and got to work on the engine. Haggard ran as fast as he could, grabbing the two duffle bags of C4 before rushing back into cover. The crash knocked some important bits out of the engine, but thankfully, it wasn't that bad. With quick work from my power tool, I was able to fix the engine in under thirty seconds. I slammed the hood back down and climbed into the driver seat. “Pres,” Haggard called out from the gunfire. “I got the C4 armed! Now what?” “Throw it through the roof, where the mounted gun is,” I replied. “And give me the detonator as well.” There were two heavy thuds as the bags of C4 landed in the back seats. Something small was also thrown through the roof, landing on one of the bags of C4. I reached back and grabbed the detonator, placing it in my pockets. With the C4 armed and the humvee repaired, it was time for the next phase of the plan. I turned the key of the ignition. The engine stalled. I turned it a few more times. More stalling, followed by smoke. “Come on, you piece of shit! Come on!” One last turn, and the engine finally sputtered with life. I revved up the engine with excitement, grinning like a madman. “Heck yeah!” Haggard cheered. “Give 'em hell, Pres!” I put the gear in reverse, backing away from the APC. I turned the wheel until the humvee was now facing the Russian tank. I put the gear forward and stepped on the gas, driving down the road at max speed. All attention was now on me, as every Russian focused their fire towards the humvee. I was swerving left and right to avoid missiles and artillery, all the while trying to drive straight towards the T-90 in front of me. It fired again, the shell missing the humvee by an inch. With another shell spent, the tank switched to its machine gun and pelted the humvee. The windshield cracked, and I could feel rounds flying past me as they tore through the armor. Haggard's voice crackled on my earpiece. “Hey Pres, the plan's working. We're pulling back to a safe distance now. But, uh, could you remind me again what you're planning to do?” “Simple Haggard,” I smirked. “The humvee, the C4, and the detonator? Put it all together, you got a bomb on wheels.” “I know what you mean, Pres,” Haggard said. “What I mean to ask is how you plan on getting out of a moving vehicle?” I fell silent. Come to think about it, I haven't even thought about how I was going to get out of this ticking time bomb. As the humvee closed in on the target, I realized that if I wanted to get out of this alive, I was going to have to do something even more stupid than this plan. I grabbed my gun and opened the driver side door, feeling the wind rushing inside. I took a deep breath, and when the time was right, I jumped. “Son of a BIIIIIITCH!!!” I fell out of the humvee and tumbled over the road. I don't know exactly how Sarge and Sweets felt when they fell off of a moving vehicle, but I can tell you that this hurts like hell. Had it not been for all the armor I was wearing, I would've been dead, or seriously injured. Looking up, I could see the humvee barreling towards the T-90 in a straight line. The tank fired one more time, but as luck would have had it, it missed by a hairline. I was slightly winded from the jump, but I was conscious enough to pull out the detonator and arm it. Once the humvee crashed into the tank, I detonated the explosives. The second that detonator was pulled, there was an explosion so powerful, it may as well have been a Hiroshima bomb going off. There was a bright flash, followed by an ear-splitting bang, as though lightning had struck nearby. The force of the blast knocked me back on my ass as I was getting back up on my feet. I lay there on the ground, my ears ringing and chest tightening. As my hearing returned to normal, I slowly got up and saw the result of my work. There was nothing left of that T-90. All that was left in its place was a black mushroom cloud of smoke. Anyone or anything that was caught in the explosion suffered the same fate as well. The explosion itself left the Russians stunned for a short period. They must’ve been in shock at the site of what happened. Their dazed state put me at an advantage, because suddenly I could hear tank and artillery fire from behind, followed by a couple of voices on my earpiece. Haggard was laughing and cheering hysterically, his mind completely blown from what he just witnessed. “Preston, you crazy son of a bitch! That was a beautiful thing! Thank you!” Sarge's voice crackled in response. “Okay Marlowe, you bought us enough time to fall back, now get your ass out of there! We got them suppressed from here!” “Hurry Marlowe,” Sweetwater added worriedly. “Fast movers will be here in three minutes!” I picked up my weapon and made a run for it, rounds flying in every direction. The fact that I wasn't hit by a single bullet yet was baffling, more so than that asinine plan I'd just pulled off. If I made it out of this alive, no one back home was ever going to believe this, not unless they were drunk or high. Either way, this is definitely one for the books. I was about to be home free, with two minutes left on the clock. Seemed like nothing could go wrong, but at the last second, I jinxed myself. Out of nowhere, an RPG flew past me on my right, the rocket then arcing left towards the ground “Aw, fuck...” I skidded to a halt, but it was too late. There was a bright flash, then I felt a rush of hot wind and something sharp piercing the left side of my face as the rocket exploded a few inches in front of me. I was propelled a few feet into the air, before making a rough re-entry onto the concrete road. My vision was blurred, and I could barely hear anything from all the constant ringing in my ears. I don't know how badly injured I was, and I probably didn't want to know. Eventually my ears stopped ringing and I could hear properly again. My vision also cleared up and I could see the early morning sky with both of my eyes. There was a crackling noise from my earpiece as various voices flooded into my hearing. “Oh God, no...” “Preston! Are you alright? Say something!” “Marlowe, can you hear me? You need to get out of there, now! Those fast movers are almost here and you're still in the danger zone. Get moving! Hurry!” I tried to walk, but because of my injuries, I was reduced into a crawling state. I had managed to drag my wounded carcass back to the APC when I heard the sound of fighter jets approaching from a distance. I looked up and saw about a few meters away, all allied forces were at a safe distance. Above them, multiple F-18s were in the sky, closing in on my position. “Ah, fuck this! I'm going in after him,” “You can't! It's too late, sir! If you go back in and get him, you're gonna die too.” “Goddamn it...all fighters, stand down! Do you hear me? Stand down! Stand the fuck down!” I heaved a tired sigh. Deep down, I knew that I wasn't going to make it out in time. The best I could do was hunker down in the APC and wait for death. Using the last of my strength, I dragged myself up the ramp and into the vehicle, sitting on one of the empty seats as I awaited for death to finally take me. So...this is how it ends? I could've died a hundred bloody ways, and this is the way I go out? Not what I expected, but good enough, I suppose. As I sat there, waiting for the end, something else had caught my eye: a bright flash of violet to my right. Looking over, I could see what appeared to be a gold pocket watch sitting on a seat beside me. I would've assumed one of the soldiers who sat in this vehicle may have accidentally left it on board as he was fleeing, but the strange thing was that I didn't even see it in the first place. What was even more strange was the purple aura surrounding it. Since when was there a pocket watch capable of emanating purple light? I reached out, wanting to take a closer look at it. As my fingers grasped it, I could feel the warmth of the light intensifying. Before I could process what was going on, my whole world went white, and then, silence. The last thing I heard was the sound of jets flying at a low altitude to deliver their deadly payload. ****** [Four Hours Later...] [HMCS Star, Hamilton, ON, Canada] The liberation of Hamilton was swift and brutal. After minutes of deadly air support, American forces moved into the city and put down the last of the Russian occupation remaining in Hamilton without trouble. Those that weren't killed retreated, or were taken prisoner. By noon, the city was under allied control, and the people of Hamilton were happy to see the last of the Russians leaving the city. Soon, word got out that across Canada, the liberation was going smoothly. Half of Alberta, Saskatchewan, and Manitoba were free of Russian occupation, though there was still intense fighting going on in British Columbia. Quebec and all the other eastern provinces nearby were already liberated, considering the fact that the intel was correct about Russian presence spread thin around here. The operation was proving to be a success, and before long, Canada would be liberated weeks later. But the operation did not come without its costs. Heavy casualties mounted on both sides, and the number was certain to rise in the days to come. For Bad Company, the loss of one of their own was greater than anything else. Though they've faced death countless times, and even lost friends in the war, Marlowe's death had shaken them to the core. The moment the F-18s had concluded their air strike, Haggard vengefully stated that “one of those Ruskie bastards just signed their own death warrants,” before marching off towards the city on his own, with Sarge and Sweetwater tailing behind him. As if possessed by demons, Bad Company retook the city almost single-handedly, without even requesting for support. Within an hour, Hamilton was liberated thanks to the efforts of the US Army and Bad Company themselves. Normally, their next objective was to move into Toronto and liberate the city, but for now, they were given orders to take a well-earned rest at a Canadian naval base located in the North End. Sweetwater and Haggard were sitting in the break room, not being able to say anything for the longest time. It was just the two of them. Many of the soldiers were either on duty, or joining the celebration the people of Hamilton were throwing in thanks for liberating the city. The door to the break room opened, and Sarge entered with an exhausted look on his face. He pulled up a chair and sat down at the table with his two privates. He finally broke the silence, trying to lighten the mood. “There's a baker who's serving some damn good marble cake to us troops,” he said. “You two should go grab some before it's all gone. The baker's at the pier, near the old battleship.” Haggard shook his head. “Thanks Sarge, but I'm just not in the mood for cake right now.” “Or celebrating for that matter,” Sweetwater added. “I'll celebrate once we liberate Alaska.” Sarge looked at his men grimly. He then sighed, and said, “Alright, look, it's a damn shame about what happened to Marlowe, and we all wish that it didn't have to end like this. But what happened, happened, and there's nothing we can do to change it. He sacrificed his life to save us all, so the best we can do is move forward and complete our mission. That way, he wouldn't have died in vain.” “We could've saved him, Sarge,” said Sweetwater. “There was still some time left before the F-18's came in. Why couldn't we have tried to drive a jeep in there and get him out? Why didn't those air force guys listen to your order to stand down? Don't they know the meaning of friendly fire when one of our own is still in the danger zone?” “Sweets, we've been over this already...” “I know, Sarge. I know,” Sweetwater replied. “I'm just saying that there could've been another way. That all of this could've been avoided.” There was an uncomfortable silence among the men. Finally, Haggard placed his hand on Sweetwater's shoulder and said, “Sweets, I get that you miss Pres. We all do. But as Sarge told us before, there was nothing we could do. Those fast movers were already in the middle of their bombing run before Sarge's order reached them. And even if we could've driven in and saved him, we wouldn't have made it out in time. “I may have not known Preston for all my life, but I've known him long enough to know that he's one tough son of a bitch. He's also stubborn, mind you. Once that boy makes up his mind, there's no way you can talk him out of it. I would've convinced him otherwise, but he'd probably still go on with that crazy plan of his.” “He's right, Sweets,” Sarge nodded. “Marlowe knew what he was doing, and he understood the risks that came with it. So let's not dwell on it any further. As I've said earlier, the best we can do is move on and complete our mission. For Marlowe. You hear me?” “I guess so,” Sweetwater mumbled. “For Marlowe.” Someone knocked on the door to the break room, getting the squad's attention. The door opened, and a lone soldier walked in. He was a Caucasian gentleman, aged somewhere in his mid-to-late thirties. The tag on his uniform read 'Tobias' and his rank was sergeant. “Sergeant Redford?” he asked. Sarge stood up. “Can I help you with something?” “I'm Sergeant Tobias with the 1st Armored Cav,” he explained. “I don't believe we properly introduced ourselves, but I'm a tank commander with Task Force Kodiak. My crew's call sign is Kodiak One.” “Oh shit,” Sweetwater's eyes widened. “You guys are the ones we helped out earlier.” “And the same guys who fought with you back in Chile,” he added. “It's good to finally meet the men of Bravo Two.” The whole squad stood up as Tobias went over and shook each of their hands. “I just wanted to stop by and thank you all again for saving us. If you hadn't come back like you did, we would've been goners.” “You don't leave a man behind,” Sarge replied. “How's your wounded guy doing?” “Jackson's fine,” he answered. “He'll be out of the fight for the rest of the war, but he'll live.” Tobias cleared his throat, and said, “Listen, about your guy, I'm sorry about what happened to him. He was a brave man.” Sarge nodded solemnly. “He knew what he was doing, and the risks that followed.” “And we'll make sure he didn't die for nothing,” Tobias added. “My crew and I are going back in the fight tomorrow with a new tank, and most likely a new driver. If you gentlemen ever need armored support, give us a holler and we'll be there.” “For sure,” Sarge replied. “You take care now, alright?” With that, Sergeant Tobias left the squad on their own, returning to his own duties. Haggard spoke up. “So, now what?” “Braidwood said we can rest here for the night,” Sarge explained. “Our plan to liberate Toronto will have to wait until tomorrow, but he expects us to take back the city by then. Our supply ships will be coming through from the St. Lawrence River tomorrow, and if the harbor in Toronto is not secured, the Russians will cut them down. Once we secure Toronto, we await further orders, see where they'll want to send us next.” Sweetwater nodded. “Then I guess I'll go grab some of that cake you've mentioned.” “I'm with you, Sweets,” Haggard said. “Let's just see how good this cake is.” Haggard and Sweetwater made their way out of the break room, but not before Haggard stopped at the door and asked, “By the way, what are we going to do about Marlowe's body?” “Right, I forgot about that,” Sarge muttered. “Braidwood said that he'd take care of it. He's sent some men out there to recover casualties from today's battle. If he finds Preston's body, what's left of it anyways, he'll ship him back to the States and inform us about it.” “Guess that takes a load off my mind,” Haggard said. “Come on, Sweets, let's go get some cake before it's all gone.” Once they were gone, it was just Sarge in the break room. He pulled out a cigar from his pockets and took a good puff out of it. He could not wait until this war was over, that he could finally retire and go fishing for the rest of his life.