“Take a good look,” The decorated General whispered as he stood in front of the small group of stallions. They stood atop one of the few hills that was tall enough to peek over the surface of the Wraith. Ethereal waves of smoke lapped against the grass, spreading fingers of itself through the network of stalks beneath the hooves of the stallions. “This world was once free of this monstrosity below us. The cities at one time had been unified under the reign of two royal sisters that ruled in tandem over the land.”
Constance stood at attention as his General continued to address his squadron. Had he been younger, the tendrils of smoke that curled around his ankles would have sent shivers down his spine. Now, however, he stood as a statue, his mind had been sharpened and fixed on the reality of war. He had been drafted a year ago today, and he relished the chance to be in such a structured environment. His focus was solely on the words of his General.
“Stallions, for some of you, this is your first time on the battlefield. It isn’t pretty, nor is it enjoyable, but it is a necessity. The ponies out there are not allies, they will not negotiate, they are murderers. We have tried to send convoys, establish communications, even diplomatic peace talks, all of which have resulted in more body bags and increased tensions.” The commander stopped his pacing and faced the massive expanse of ocean-like smoke before them. “So if it is a war they want, it is a war they will get. If you look on the horizon, you will see your target barely protruding above the wraith. That massive wall, similar to ours, is what keeps their city Wraith-free. Your objective is to blast a portion of it to smithereens.”
He pointed to a small dufflebag, his assistant gingerly pulling out a series of cables and small shape charges from the bag. “These are your new best friends. Treat them well, and the war will be won. Treat them poorly… well… let’s just say they have a nasty temper when they're angry.” He placed the explosives back in the bag and gave it to Constance.
“Chev will be carrying the explosives. Ensure his utmost safety, but with the route we have plotted for you, that shouldn’t be an issue.” The General stopped and looked back to the squad. “Do you understand your mission?”
“Yes sir!” The group shouted in unison. Their voice echoing the power of their deceptively small size.
“I expect the Phillydelphian wall to be destroyed by the time our armies meet on the battlefield.” The general saluted
The group trotted down the hill, plunging into the body of the Wraith. Constance kept good pace despite the explosive load on his back. The group’s hoofsteps were in perfect synchronization as the group marched through the dense Wraith. For miles they trudged onward, halting only for the occasional stream or tree. Phillydelphia was a great distance from their location, but they had trained months for this. They had built their endurance through months of training, preparing for this very moment. Sprints, marathons, and obstacle courses had honed them for the task, but nothing could have prepared them for the war itself.
Arrow held up his hoof, bringing the group to a standstill. Silence overtook the air, something was out of place.
“What’s the issue, Arrow?” one of the squad spoke up.
“I heard something, like a distant explosion.”
“According to the map and to the time, the skirmish is taking place around fifty miles east of our current location,” Constance said as he checked the weathered map. The day was just beginning to fade, the time when the first mortars of the W-1 would be fired. “I say we keep on mov-”
A low roll of thunder echoed through the Wraith. The hearts of the squadron’s members simultaneously skipped a beat.
“Was that-”
“Yes.” Arrow said as he began to stretch his body.
“What are you doing ?” Contance asked as he slowly placed the bag of explosives onto the ground. “We need to get out of here.”
“If we can hear the mortars, we are too far off course. Time for plan B.”
Constance’s eye twitched, how could they have traveled so far off course? His mind began to fire frantically, his body refusing to believe the structure was destroyed.
“What are we going to do now?” one of the others asked as another explosion echoed through the air.
“We fight.” Arrow looked to Constance. His sly smile and cocked eyebrow displayed his sheer confidence. “You are a boxer aren't you?”
“I am.”
“Then this should be second nature.” Arrow winked and turned to the others. “Stallions, the enemy will be upon us in just a few moments. Use your wits and keep your heads, literally.”
“What about our objective?” Constance eyed the dufflebag at his hooves. “Aren’t we supposed to draw attention from the fight?”
Another explosion flew through the air, this time more powerful. A faint shout resounded after the explosion.
“I can hear the enemy just beyond the smoke. Prepare yourselves.” Arrow calmly strapped his blade to his hoof and faced the enemy. “Let’s dance.”
It took only a few seconds for the first, overzealous scout to come galloping through the fog. He tried to raise his weapon. He tried to strike the stallion before him. He tried to wipe that confident smirk off of that colt’s face, but he failed. Arrow waited until he could smell the stallion’s rage before gliding out of the way and letting him run into the blade on his outstretched foreleg. The Fillydelphian let out a bloodcurdling scream as the piece of steel sunk deep into his side and tore his flesh like paper.
“Let them do the work,” Arrow said as he gently slid his blade into the neck of the writhing stallion on the ground. “Stick together, leave no pony behind.”
A trickle of bloodthirsty stallions began to assault the group. One made his target the stallion next to the dufflebag, Constance. “Come on!” Constance shouted in a whisper more to himself than his assailant. The stallion swung his sword at Constance’s neck, but it only soared through the air. Constance, realizing the condition of his opponent, threw three quick jabs to the stallion’s neck. His opponent stumbled backward, gasping for air. He was off balance. Constance threw a hard punch to the side of the stallion’s head. He collapsed under the blow.
Another figure darted by Constance, pulling him back into his default defensive stance. His forelegs slid into position, and instinct took control. Another enemy emerged from the Wraith, his nostrils spewing the toxic W-1 that had rained down on their troops. The stallion threw a nasty punch in an attempt to connect with Constance’s temple. Constance easily brushed the blow aside with his forearm and popped the stallion’s shoulder out with the other. He screamed in agony as his body came crashing to the ground. Instinctively, Constance drove his hoof into the stallion’s temple.
A glint flashed through the fog, a stallion bearing a small dagger came charging toward Constance. Immediately Constance dialed in on the blade, ever wary of its movements. The opponent lunged at him, bringing the blade inches from Constance’s neck. Constance quickly gained his stability again as the opponent prepared for another swing. Constance dropped to his back, throwing his back legs before him, and let the blade sail over his body. The opponent seized the chance and quickly spun the blade into a ice pick grip. As he brought his blade down toward Constance’s chest, Constance stopped the stallion’s hoof and propped his back leg against the stallion’s chest. He quickly threw the opponent over his body, twisting the knife into the stallion’s stomach. Constance threw himself over his opponent and twisted the knife out of the stallion’s grip. With a quick motion, he snapped the neck of the opponent.
Constance dropped the knife and rose to his hooves as he prepared himself for the next attack. A loud crack echoed beside his ear, tossing him to the ground from sheer force. One of Manehattan’s W-1 shells had detonated not three feet from him. Suddenly, Constance’s mind began firing on all cylinders. The opponents galloped around him in complete silence as they yelled their screams and brandished their weapons. One ran out his momentum as he noticed a disgruntled Constance lying on the ground. A sadistic grin stretched across his face as he tapped his club against Constance’s head.
“Night night,” he said, but all contance could hear was the deafening ringing in his ears. The stallion lifted his club and brought it hard against Constance’s temple