Angel of War

by Commander Ry

Reality is No Longer Real

Casey found himself on a hill, surrounded by wind and noise. The noise was unmistakably coming from an aircraft of some type; a helicopter if the officer’s trained ear was any indication. Glancing up into the clear sky, both the source of the wind and noise was confirmed to be coming from a USAF HH-60 Pave Hawk helicopter. The young man braced himself up on his arms to gather his bearing.

His surroundings slowly began to make themselves apparent; he was sprawled out on a hill, decked out in his full flight gear with an orange parachute tangled in some bushes a few yards away. He was having a hard time clearing the fog from his mind. It was apparent he had been shot down, but didn’t something else happen? Something felt off but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

“SIR!”

The harsh yelling brought Casey back to reality. Looking in front of him, Casey could see the Pave Hawk had dropped a rappel line. Two individuals stood in front of him. One, dressed in an Airman’s Battle Uniform bearing the two stripes of an Airmen First Class stood defensively three yards away scanning the horizon with his rifle. The other, dressed the same, but bearing the stripes of a technical sergeant, crouched before Casey, rifle hanging from its sling. The latter was attempting to address the pilot.

“Sir,” the sergeant exclaimed, “I need you to identify yourself for me.” The sergeant was an image of serenity in a roaring sea of chaos as he spoke above the rushing air.

Still trying, and failing, to fully grasp why everything felt so surreal, the officer responded with an impulsive, “Second Lieutenant Casey, Jonathan M. United States Air Force.”

The sergeant smiled and nodded.

“Yes sir, and what wing were you with?”

Understanding the reason for the questions, Casey responded, “944th, I was on a probing flight three miles north of the 38th when I was engaged. I ejected just south of the DMZ.”

“Very good sir.”

The Non-Commissioned Officer turned to his comrade and barked a quick line of words.

“NELSON, WE HAVE POSITIVE I.D. PREP FOR EXTRACT”

With no more than a nod and a mumbled reply, the younger airman made his way back to the hoist line still dangling from the hovering HH-60. Turning back to Casey, the sergeant smirked.

“Glad to make your acquaintance sir. I am Technical Sergeant Joenas. That other one is Airmen First Class Nelson. We are here to bring you home… Can you stand?”

The pilot responded with a nod and grumbled “I sure the hell hope so,” as he fumbled to fight gravity and his parachute’s shroud lines.

The officer was beginning to make sense of his situation. He remembered being shot down, but everything up until now was a blur. ‘I must have blacked out when I jettisoned, probably landed on this hill. These guys must be the crew they sent after me.’ Even with this conclusion, the pilot had a nagging sensation that something was off or missing. He attempted to clear his confusion by asking questions.

“Sergeant, how long have I been out here?”

As Joenas ushered the now standing officer towards the waiting helicopter, he offered his response.

“Not long sir. We got your mayday about thirty minutes ago, give or take. Feared the worst when we spotted you sprawled out on this hill. But you seem to be alright. Now I’m going to synch this around your waist and I’m going to need you to hold on tight.”

Before Casey could be hoisted up to the waiting aircraft, he saw Nelson tense and raise his rifle.

“CONTACT! 3 O’ Clock!”

 While the officer tried to process the meaning of the words, Joenas had shoved Casey into the dirt crouching defensively over top of him, his own rifle raised.

From his new position on the ground, Casey could see both his rescuers had their weapons trained on a herd of six colorful horses. A very familiar looking purple one attempted to say something, but only her lips moved as the message was quickly chopped to pieces by the spinning rotor blades overhead.

Casey didn’t know why, but he felt that these horses weren’t a threat. In fact his brain was telling him that they were actually friends, that violence was not needed.

“Wait, no don’t- Airmen, stand down!” The officer tried to stand, only to be shoved back into the dirt and have Joenas’s knee slammed into his back.

“SIR, I need you to remain prone and still, we- holy shit…”

The tech sergeants’ reprimand was cut short as a magenta bubble erupted from the purple horse’s horn. It grew to encompass the herd and the men excluding the helicopter. Immediately the wind and noise stopped.  Only silence permeated the bubble encompassing the six horses and the three humans.

Smiling, the purple unicorn began to speak once again, her voice projected clearly in the relative silence.

“Ah much better. Hello-“

Her sentence was shattered by the sound of gunfire.

Airmen First Class Nelson fired three rounds at the horse; the first missed (presumably fired in confusion and panic) but the last two connected with the purple mare, both puncturing her chest and spraying blood into the air. The bubble shield blinked out and the small horse collapsed without a sound.

Casey managed to choke out a “NO!” before all hell broke loose.

The now only five horses all responded with their own varying cries of fear and panic, all of which were cut short as the world exploded in lead and fire. Apparently hearing Nelson fire his rifle, the left door gunner on board the Pave Hawk took that as a cue to do his job and unleashed 3000 rounds per minute on the unsuspecting mammals below. In three seconds the mini gun had left only casings, dust, and a fine red mist in its wake.

Suspecting the conflict to be over, Nelson and Joenas lowered their rifles, only for Nelson’s rifle to flash magenta and then explode in his face; as he fell screaming, the helicopter overhead became encompassed in purple light. Warning alarms and mixed shouts from the crew could be heard as the aircraft was rocketed at the ground.

With a yell of “MOVE,” sergeant Joenas threw Casey down the hill, narrowly missing being crushed by the million dollar projectile. Half running and half falling, Casey could hear the squeal of metal as the helicopter slammed into the hilltop, engulfing it in flames and shrapnel. The forces of the blast launched the officer into the ground, showering him with debris.

Casey didn’t move, he didn’t breathe, and he didn’t think. Nothing made sense. Everything was so familiar but everything was so wrong.  It was like bits and pieces of his memory were all floating around in a fog; he understood what was happening in the present, but he had no idea how he came to be there. This confusion, mixed with the large quantities of violence and stuffed into such a short time made it next to impossible for Casey to rationally think through his situation. So he didn’t. Much like a computer boots up into “safe mode,” Casey’s brain once again handed over cognitive functions of his body to his training. Running on instinct, the warrior stood up, un-holstered his M9, and scanned the surrounding area for any threat. Finding nothing but the burning wreckage at the top of the hill, he deemed their best bet for continued survival would be to follow the ridgeline they were currently on to the south. The ridge would make it difficult for any threat to follow them and give them the altitude to send out a distress signal.

With a plan being formed the pilot yelled out, “Sergeant, we need to move south. If we stay along this ridge, we-“

As he faced the sergeant, Casey noticed Joenas had been hit by a piece of the exploded Pave Hawk. What appeared to be a jagged edge of the rotor blade now protruded from the NCO’s chest. As he spasmed on the ground, blood pooled around him soaking his uniform and the dirt he lay in. That’s when Casey’s training failed him.

“Oh fuck… no, fuck… shit.”

Kneeling next to Joenas, the officer didn’t know what to do. There was nothing he could do; the only thought running through his head being ‘I can’t fix this’. Feeling utterly helpless Casey sat next to the sergeant and just stared at him.

For all the blood and shaking Joenas’s eyes were calm. They were tinted with a hint of fear but for the most part they displayed only confusion. They stared back at the pilot as if questioning this very reality. Neither one of them could talk; Casey because he had no words, Joenas because he had no voice. So they stared at each other.

Casey stared until the blood stopped flowing, until the Sergeant stopped shaking, until the final breath escaped his mouth and the last light of life fled the young man’s eyes. Then Casey cried. He cried for the death he had witnessed. He cried for the violence and carnage that took place moments ago. He cried for his sorrow and anger. He cried because he was confused and he cried because he knew that even if everything made sense it still wouldn’t matter.

Amidst his sobs the officer began to hear laughter; what started out as an easily ignorable chuckle developed into a chortle, then a laugh, and finally a cackle. And just like that Casey’s tears stopped as he raised his gun at the unexpected intruder.

The image that greeted the man had not been one that he expected. Casey sat perched atop a blacked hilltop with red mist swirling around him and nothing else. Joenas’s body and the Pave Hawk wreckage were both gone. In their place was only darkness and mist.

The pistol tumbled from the airmen’s hand as he mumbled, “W-what is this?”

The laughter increased and then stopped abruptly, replaced by an echoing voice.

“You creatures, always being so dramatic. I suppose it takes an inflated sense of self-worth to accomplish great things, but honestly, it is rather humorous to watch how quickly you can inflate the significance of the events that surround your lives.”

The voice was smooth, pleasant almost, laced with a hint of sarcasm. Its words built within the young man a primal rage made even worse by his inability to kill or understand where said voice was coming from.

“But your real claim to fame, what makes you truly marvelous, is your tendencies towards violence. A poke here, a push there, and your first instincts are to kill the problem. But even better, you don’t embrace violence; you don’t act for the sake of violence. You fight only for a cause, a cause which your aforementioned ego turns into a matter of only life and death. You truly are an amazing species.”

As if the fog surrounding the young man had permeated his brain, the officer struggled to form complete ideas to respond to the creepy and ultimately random circumstance he found himself in. Rather than mumbling gibberish he chose to remain silent as the voice continued.

“I was worried at first, but I see now you will do nicely. The spark of violence resides within you, as it does with all of your kind; all I must do is provide you with the proper fuel… We will be in touch Mr. Jonathan Casey. Try not to scream too loudly when you wake up.”

And with that the pilot’s world went black.

(X*X*X*X*X)

“AH!”

Casey bolted upright in his bed, quickly recognizing his surroundings as the small hospital room Twilight Sparkle and her compatriots had brought him to. Reality flooded back to him as the details of his dream began to fade away.

“Well, good morning to you as well.”

Looking to his right the young man noticed that the white pony, Nurse Redheart, stood a few feet away from his bed going over a chart of some kind. Realizing that from her perspective he had just randomly screamed like a crazy person, he attempted to explain his action with a stutter only to be cut off by his equine nurse.

“Did we have a nightmare? I suppose it’s reassuring to know that our species shares that similarity. Now I was told by Twilight that you have finally decided to start communicating with us? I sincerely hope this is true as you answering some questions would make my job much easier.”

Still fighting back the emotional rollercoaster that had been created by his dream, Casey struggled to respond in an intelligible manner to the pony’s genuine yet slightly mocking words.

“I ah, well… umm-“

Redheart looked up from her chart for the first time since initiating the conversation with the human. Casey could see her dull expression turn to one of concern as a sarcastic comment died in her throat.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were so shaken up. I didn’t mean to insult you, are you okay?”

Casey responded with a quizzical look only to feel moisture drying on his cheeks and noticed his eyes were unusually moist. ‘SON OF A MONKEY WHORE!’ he thought, ‘I fucking hate dreams.’

Casey was an unusually emotional individual when he slept. During flight school he earned the name “bright eyes” because on multiple occasions he woke up with a tear streaked face from a dream or nightmare that he had during the night. Casey wasn’t a particularly emotional individual when awake, and he would rarely display more than simple approval or mild annoyance. Usually he would hide behind professionalism or sarcasm to mask the emotions of living. In some way, he viewed emotions as a liability, something that belonged only to him and not something to be shared. Maybe this was the reason why he was so affected when he slept, maybe that was a way for his mind to easily express what was usually repressed. Regardless, the officer hated this aspect of his mind. Continued dreams made worse by public disapproval lead him to respond to dreams with disgust. These feelings were not made better with the genuine worry and question being asked of him by the nurse.

After thoroughly drying his eyes and wiping his face the officer responded through gritted teeth.

“Yes… I’m fine.”

The nursing aspect making itself apparent Redheart continued to show concern.

“Are you sure? I imagine these past days haven’t been easy for you, something that I regrettably have overlooked. Do you want to talk about it-“

Casey cut off the warm intentions with an icy response.

“No.”

The white pony continued to express concern only to be cut off again:

“If something is bothering you, we can-“

 “No, drop it.”

Genuine hurt flashed across her face before she hid it behind her medical chart. After a few seconds her face reemerged completely composed back to her professional and slightly dull expression. Yet, Casey could still see a hint of hurt hiding in her eyes.

“Ok then, well nothing seems out of place; unless you need me, I have other duties that require my presence.”

The officer’s conscience was very upset with him. After slapping him, it began to yell at him with words like ‘asshole,’ ‘jerk,’ and many other expletives that made him feel bad. Recognizing that he took his anger out on the individual who had been taking care of him for the past week, perhaps the only pony who hadn’t deserved to be snapped at, Casey attempted to smooth over his harshness.

“Miss Heart, I apologize. That was uncalled for as I imagine you only had good intentions. But it is a personal matter and I do not share personal matters.”

The pink maned mare’s eyes softened at his words.

“I understand, it wasn’t my place to press the issue.  Anyways, seeing as how you are now willing to use words and can formulate full sentences,” she smirked, apparently falling back to her usual professional cynicism, “I would like to ask you a few questions pertaining to your health and biology. I can’t say I, or anypony else I know, is well versed in your anatomy.”

The pilot did find it odd that they were able to treat him so well, despite the circumstances. ‘Perhaps evidence that this is fake, my mind messing up the reality it created?’ rather than shouting his reality judging questions Casey responded with a simple

“What do you need to know?”

The nurse smiled at the cooperation. “Well, first off, how are you feeling? The magic scan showed us that for the most part, your biology resembles ours with most of the same important parts but just slightly rearranged, though your neural scan was rather different. Anyways, magic can only tell us so much. Have you been experiencing any unusual pain, any weird feelings?”

The young man’s mind immediately jumped at the term “magic.”

‘They scanned me with magic? Fucking magic… ha.’ He quickly reeled in the less intelligent parts of his mind, choosing to rather respond with a simple answer.

“No ma’am. Other than my broken body parts, I’ve actually been healing unusually fast.”

“Really? This is good then, at least we aren’t making your condition worse.”

Casey smirked at this whole experience; he was talking with a colorful magical pony about his health. He decided to continue the notably silly conversation.

“No, for such a limited understanding you have done a very good job as far as I can tell.”

Redheart let on the slightest of blushes at the officer’s complement, causing the more sentimental side of his mind to let out a sound mixed between a gasp and a choke as he caught diabetes.

“I appreciate the compliment, for my last question I am curious about your diet. The scan revealed that you are omnivorous… which leads me to ask, well, are you capable of living without meat?”

The nurse visibly paled at the question as she asked it. Part of Casey wanted to shout out ‘MORE BACON,’ but rather than traumatize his newly made friend the young man answered with the more reasonable response.

“No, protein is rather essential for my diet but that can be easily substituted. So far I haven’t noticed any real issues with what I have currently been fed. Like I said, you and your staff have done a very good job considering me and my circumstances.”

The nurse let out a sigh as she responded.

“That is actually very relieving, considering our society is herbivorous.”

The meat-loving part of Casey’s mind let out a pained sob, crying ‘what is life without bacon?!?’ The officer consoled his distraught stomach as he simply smiled and nodded at the pony’s words.

“Speaking of food, I imagine all that yelling worked up an appetite. Would you be interested in breakfast Jonathan?” Redheart flashed him another smirk as she began to walk out of the room.

Returning her smirk the pilot simply nodded and thanked her.

(X*X*X*X*X)

Casey received a breakfast of apples and other fruit, much to the cries of lament from his digestive system. Redheart had left him alone to eat, saying something about other patient’s needs. So the officer tried to enjoy his fruit while he ran through the recent happening of his life.

First on his agenda of things to think about; his brain was bothered by his recent dream. The details of said dream had faded long ago as dreams usually do; however, he distinctly remembered violence and a creepy voice talking about the human race. His gut told him that the dream was important, but logic told him that in a land of colorful ponies he had bigger issues to figure out. So the airmen filed the details of the dream into ‘I don’t give a shit’ and moved on to bigger problems.

Next, Casey went over his recent conversation with Ms. Sparkle the day before. His conversation with her and the other two had gone on much later then he had previously thought. So late in fact Nurse Redheart had to tell them to leave as “visiting hours were over; this rule applies even to the princess’ personal student.” Going over the conversation again he had come to the conclusion that these ponies were very intelligent creatures, but they were also very naive and seemed to be kept in ignorance by their government. The biggest thing the officer remembered was that they honest to god believed that their rulers raised and controlled the stars and celestial bodies. Despite the young man’s best attempts at explaining  physics, none of them seemed to understand what he was saying. Twilight Sparkle said something about cultural differences and Casey finally just gave up on the conversation and determined he couldn’t fight generations of brainwashing in ten minutes. For the most part, the conversation hadn’t been extremely informative for the airman, but it did open up communications. It was a start, and far more productive than the silent treatment had been. Before she had left, the purple unicorn had told Casey that she hoped to give the human a tour of “Ponyville” (apparently the town he was residing in) and prepare him for a trip to see the princess in a few days. Aside from trying to understand how any creature developed the name “Ponyville” without being sarcastic, Casey looked forward to the opportunity to see more of this reality and try and challenge the realness of it.

The pilot still wasn’t certain if he was imagining things. He had come to accept that this was what it was; meaning he was no longer staring at walls while asking metaphorical questions. But the more information he could gather the better he could evaluate his surroundings. The best way he could do that was through cooperation, so that’s what the human had committed to doing.

After eating and re evaluating past events, Casey decided to go back to sleep. He had nothing better to do considering he was half naked in a hospital, and he figured the purple mare would be by soon to go show him all there was to see while peppering him with a new mountain of questions, now that she had a whole night to think of them.

‘If I’m going to have to deal with these cheery creatures all day, I’m going to need to be well rested.’

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~(Commander Ry: Well I'm still not dead, yay. Ch 5 was fun to write but it was different. Hopefully there aren't any complaints because this was always kinda where I intended to go. Also, Season 3- As freaken amazing as it was, it kind of jacked up all the cannon in the show. Because of this I am basically writing this story as if Season 3 and all future seasons never happened. This is the only feasible way I can see me continuing on (Twilight With WINGS!), but If you have any opinions or input they are always welcome. Like always my editors are awesome and basically write the story :P; give thanks to shadowdemon137, Bass, "She-who-prefers-not-to-be-named", and finally the newest addition to those who keep me from posting incoherent garble Devs Iratvs. The last thing, if I have any fancy smacy artist and the like following me, I am totally cool with fan art; I've been looking for a replacement cover photo and just though id throw this out there. Other wise comment, comment, comment)~