//------------------------------// // Bonus: Three weeks later... // Story: The Conversion Bureau: Prisoners of War // by Codexwriter476 //------------------------------// Somewhere in Texas... Sweet summer rain filled Mikey’s nostrils as he looked over the vast prairie around him. Bodies of both human and ponies littered the ground before the abandoned complex as the rain made a futile attempt to wash their transgressions away. Ruined cars and trucks were scattered about the lot and the building itself was a shell of what it once was. He could hear the thundering of hooves over the pitter-patter of the rain. They were coming again. How many times did this make it now? Ten, twenty times in the past two days? His ammunition was long gone by now and all he had left was a K-Bar knife off one of the dead National Guardsmen and his pistol from Atlanta. He had wasted three clips worth of bullets save for only one left in the chamber. His name literally etched onto the brass casing. He quickly returned into the complex having looted whatever ammunition remained on the dead. Five magazines for the Colt M16A4, three rounds for a hunting rifle and a full clip of shotgun shells. “This is all you got left Mike. Make them count.” He muttered to himself as the hooves came closer and closer. The lot was now occupied by thirty or more Royal Guards; most likely conscripts, all lightly armored “Search them. If you find any survivors, kill them. They had their chance long ago.” One of the guards said, barely auditable from within the complex. Mikey was now on the third floor balcony overlooking the lot as they approached. He steadied the scoped rifle and aimed at what he believed to be the officer. He held his breath and pulled the trigger. The bullet hit its mark through a small crack in the pony’s neck in between the armor. “Sniper! Get to cover!” Another guard shouted before meeting a similar fate as his fallen comrade. The guards scattered and hid behind the broken cars and trucks, out of Mikey’s sight. “Sweet Celestia, I’m bleeding.” The fallen guard gurgled on his own blood. “Hang in there, I’ll try and get you out of there.” That voice. Mikey remembered that voice. He moved his finger off the trigger and simply watched through the scope. Cautiously creeping from cover was one of the guards carrying a medical kit in a saddle bag. Believing it to be clear, the pony rushed over to the slowly dying guard. Kelly. He once again placed his finger on the trigger, held his breath and fired. The medic was shot in the leg. “Third floor balcony!” A guard shouted form behind a low rider convertible as the remaining guards rushed the building. With the rifle now out of ammo, Mikey switched to the Colt and started spraying the lot. Bullets flew everywhere, hitting four more ponies before too many got inside. He abandoned the balcony and entered the hallway to a secondary position. A dark blue Pegasus landed on the balcony and charged after the human. Mikey quickly turned and fired the Colt at point blank range. Three bullets punctured the pony’s armor and leg guards, wounding it. Mikey didn’t stay to finish the job. The guards had arrived on the third floor, which were cubicles, only to be welcomed by more oncoming fire from the determined killer. A red unicorn with a newspaper on its flank tried to push forward, casting its magic on one of the chairs nearby to use as a shield. Three more did the same. Mikey’s bullets tore through the chairs but they kept coming until the Colt too ran out. “Fuck.” He said, pulling out the shotgun. The chairs were now feet away from the cubicle Mikey had made into a bunker. The red unicorn leaped from his cover and at Mikey, only to be sent flying back with a chest full of lead. Mikey still fired the shotgun at the guards. After it ran out, he started using it as a club. Swinging it left and right until it was forced out of his hands. He gave a blood curtailing smile as his now pulled out the K-Bar. He charged at the guards as he plunged the knife into a pony’s neck exposed from the protection of the armor. As he continued to fight off the guards, the wounded unicorn from before slid behind him. During his struggle, the pistol had fallen out of his pants pockets and clattered near the pony. Mikey kept on swinging his knife at the guards, taunting them to come at him. A shot rang out to the surprise to both sides. The knife dropped to the ground as Mikey looked down to his chest. A dark red spot was growing. He turned around to see where the shot came from. His own gun brought him down, enveloped by a yellow aura emitting from the unicorn he had shot only seconds ago. The Pegasus, being supported by the wounded medic approached the scene. Mikey soon fell to his knees and approached the unicorn. Still threaten; the unicorn readied a defense spell. However, he didn’t get tackled or attacked. Instead, he saw the human reach for the spent casing resting nearby. Mikey got a better look of the pony that shot him. Pester. The know it all finally had the guts to kill. “Get ready to run it through.” The Pegasus shouted. Jackson. At least he'll die surrounded by his former friends. To the surprise of the guards, Mikey started to laugh. With the casing in hand, he crawled to the wall of the cubicle and rested his back on it, facing the victors. There was a reason why he chose this certain part of the wall. His eyes fell upon a remote resting under his left hand. “In the wise words of Iron Wall…” Mikey muttered as the guards approached. “… The war is over for you.” He pressed the button.