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// Prologue 
// Story: Serving... Equestria? 
// by Tempname10732 
//------------------------------//

	A loud blaring noise ends your blissful sleep and you instantly snap out of bed. You were trained for this moment. That noise was an alarm and your base was under attack. You look out the window to see the sun hasn't yet risen. The full moon was providing a good deal of light though, enough to allow you to see vague outlines in the room.
People were running throughout the barrack, trying to arm themselves as quickly as possible. Several men were distributing weapons from the armory and you jogged over to get a rifle. The M4 Carbine you had received was cold, smooth, and looked well used in the silver moonlight. Within minutes, the alarm died, and a voice announced over the speaker system, “Drill complete. Time to respond: two minutes, eighteen seconds. With a time like that, we'd all be dead. Hurry it up next time unless you all want to die.”
Groans of unhappiness flooded the building, as everyone finally realized what that meant. At least twice a week now, you'd all be woken up at some time between 11pm and 4am to run that drill over and over. No one was looking forward to it.
After you returned the rifle to the armory, you went back to sleep. Not more than two hours later, though, you were woken up.
Another blaring noise, this one significantly louder than the first time, wakes you from your slumber. A collective groan leaves every man’s mouth as they all ask themselves the same question: “Two drills in the same night?” A loud explosion outside tells everyone it isn't a drill.
The men at the armory are dispatching rifles as quickly as they can, and you receive your M4 Carbine yet again. This exact rifle had saved your life a few times before, and your squad-mates' countless more. You join up with the main force, and all of you rush into the courtyard. Men were in sniper's nests, behind Humvees, loading into tanks, doing anything and everything to deter this threat.
Another explosion, accompanied by a blinding light, destroys the reinforced gate at the edge of the compound. Pieces of metal fly from the destroyed gate, showering the base in metal and glass from windows shattered by the debris. A barrage of bullets flies out of the gaping hole where the gate used to be, and the headlights of several extremist vehicles bounce up the road. The entire base goes from pitch-black to blindingly-bright as someone flips on the spotlights and focuses them down the road.
The tanks pull out of the middle of the courtyard and start heading to meet the enemy. Two of the armored vehicles don't get farther than twenty feet before being disabled by enemy fire. You can tell this battle isn't going to go well for you.
You turn on your radio, only to hear static. “Base, this is Sandman 1-3. Our Operations Center is under direct attack from extremists. Requesting evac, over.”
Without waiting for them to respond, you run over to a Humvee and use it as cover. The extremists have pushed up to the gate, with a few having tried to run through it. They were quickly eliminated.
You click the button to turn the safety off and look over the Humvee. Aiming down the sights, you line up the pin at the end with an enemy soldier's body, and pull the trigger for a second at a time, three bursts total. His body drops with a thud.
You repeat the process, eliminating any stragglers that manage to run into the compound. Over the sound of gunfire and war, helicopter rotors can be heard. You switch the radio channel over to base-wide, and tell half of them to defend while the other half loads the wounded into the med-evac helicopter. As you grab a bleeding soldier and sling him over your soldier into fireman's carry. A sharp, burning pain burrows into your shoulder, causing you to drop to your knees and cough, painfully.
Pain starts radiating from the wound, flowing into other limbs as if it had been injected into your bloodstream. A warm substance flows from the source of the pain, and soon has seeped through your shirt. A hand grabs your arm, and another one grabs your legs. The two pairs of limbs work together to elevate your body off the ground.
“What do his tags say?” a voice asks from behind you.
Someone grabs at something on your chest, and says your name.
“Hang on, we're gonna get you help, okay? Just stay with us. C'mon, don't leave us. You're gonna be just fine. We're gonna get you to a doctor, he's gonna patch you right up. Don't you die on us!” The first voice cycles between those statements as the two men load you onto the helicopter.
The whirring of the blades overpowers the sound of gunshots, and soon you feel elevated. Risking seeing your blood, you open your eyes. The helicopter is a good several hundred feet off the ground, and you're moving fast away from the battle. A high-pitched beeping noise makes your blood run cold.
“What the fuck are they doing?! This is a medical vehicle! They can't shoot at us!” an obviously frustrated pilot screams.
“That's the difference between us and them. We follow the rules. They don't.” answers his co-pilot.
“Shit, do we have anything to defend ourselves with?”
“No. We wouldn't be classified as a medical vehicle if we had any sort of weapons.”
“Hang on tight then, we're going low.” With that, the helicopter drops, and you feel your stomach in your throat. A loud bang, accompanied by the helicopter shaking violently, forces you to open your eyes and look around. Smoke is pouring off the top of the bird, and the pilots look truly scared.
“C'mon, don't do this to me girl! This'll be your last mission, I promise! Get us out of here safely, and I swear we'll just do park rides or something. Just get us home!” the pilot says to the helicopter.
As if the helicopter understood him, the beeping ceased, the rotors spun with less resistance, and the helicopter balanced out. “Whoo, yeah! I knew you had it in you, girl!”
The pilot's cheering is cut short by another explosion, this time on the tail of the helicopter. The aerospace vehicle spins wildly out of control, and the last thing you see before you hit the ground is the pilots trying to brace the wounded for the impact.

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“Oooooooooooooowwwwwww...” a groan of pain leaves your dry throat, scratching it on the way out.
“Oh my, he's awake! Angel, go and get me a cold compress and a glass of water. Um, excuse me sir, but what happened? How did you get into the field outside my house?” a feminine voice asks.
“Ungh... What? Where am I?” you ask the voice that questioned you.
“Oh, um, you're in my cottage.”
“Which is where?”
“Right outside Ponyville.”
“Where?”
“Um, Ponyville.”
“I- what?”
“Ponyville, sir. It's a lovely town, with lots of lovely ponies in it. Celestia comes to visit every once in a while. And Luna, too, although she mainly visits on Nightmare Night.”
“So, wait, what's your name?”
“Oh, um, my name is Fluttershy. I take care of all the animals that live here. They like it, and so do I.” She chuckles slightly. “It makes me happy to help others.”
“I think I need to wake up.” So, with the intent of waking up in mind, you fall back asleep.