//------------------------------//
// Shaking The Snowglobe 
// Story: From the General 
// by ISKV 
//------------------------------//

"PULL OVER."

"You know, I don't think a train can-"

"PULL OVER."

The two diamond dogs stared at the strange, flying red thing that was yelling at them to pull over, something that was quite impossible to accomplish in a train.

"WE HAVE A FULL LOAD OF TANK HUNTERS AND MINIGUNNERS. WE HAVE A BATTLEMASTER PARKED ON THE TRACKS ONE KILOMETER AHEAD. THIS IS YOUR LAST WARNING. PULL OVER.

The weaving tracks soon straightened and sure enough, one kilometer away a nuclear Battlemaster was parked sideways across the railroad tracks. Even from this distance, they could see the heat haze coming off of the engine deck. The Helix hovered above, daring them to try anything.

Through the binoculars, they saw the tank's gun flash, and not a second later, a shock wave smashed through their eardrums as a crater appeared next to the speeding locomotive. Both yelped in surprise, and peered back as they rapidly left the column of smoke behind.

The engineer nervously whispered as he stood back up, "We stop?"

His partner nodded, "We stop."

The wheels screeched as they slowed to a halt. 

All was silent for a minute, until the twin rotors of a Chinook joined them, deafening whoever was on the train.

"GO GO GO!"

Ropes dropped from the sides, and an entire squad of Rangers crashed through every door and entrance.

It was nothing flashy or special, it was just a regular old Combat Drop.

The only thing that was flashy however, was the flash bang.

"Paws up."

And the paws went up.

***

A Ranger waved to the departing Technical, yelling an unheard thanks for the help.

A Minigunner sitting in the back waved back, the rusty pickup and the four other Chinese Soldiers stuffed in the back bouncing as they sped away in a cloud of sand.

Above, the Helix's heavy rotors thudded, leading the convoy to places unknown as the Chinese construction dozer swayed from the thick steel cables under. Behind them was the single Nuclear Battlemaster, an ambulance, the Technicals, and trailing the back was a handful of Quad Cannons.

And joining them were a few members of Princess Luna's personal guards to act as advisors.

Hammer Force's destination was not Stalliongrad.

Instead, their mission would involve a mad scientist, an underground maze, and monstrous creatures created by said mad scientist.

But that story is a story to tell another day.

***

Applejack flinched.

The somewhat earthly smell of cardboard calmed her, its earthly scent similar to her home, contrasting greatly with the metallic and dead cold steel that surrounded her, or the dry heat of the Appleoosan Desert that she could still feel on her back from the open door.

"Applejack?"

The voice called to her from behind, the elegant voice tainted with worry. There could only be one pony with that voice. 

"Dear?"

The she stayed silent, wondering if she should do what she told her to do.

The pony entered, and placed something on the ground behind her.

"Apple Bloom is playing with Braeburn, but I have a sneaking suspition that it's you she wants to spend time with." Rarity whispered, keeping her voice soft.

"Also, I think Braeburn is not used to dealing with a younger sibling."

Applejack smiled. She liked the stallion, though he was a little too enthusiastic for her liking.

Rarity noticed the grin on her friend's lips and grinned herself.

"Here." she pushed the basket forwards, "They managed to save a few bushels from the orchard. It's not from your farm, but it's Apple Family apples."

She didn't move from the inside of her cardboard nest, but when the sweet scent of freshly picked apples reaching her nose, it caught her attention like a flower in the middle of a barren wasteland. It was an odd feeling, like reuniting with an old friend, but like meeting a new pony at the same time.

How odd.

Rarity kneeled down, waiting for the farmer to make a move.

Applejack sighed, and stood.

The seamstress smiled as her long time friend moved from her nest of cardboard and sat down across the basket.

"Thank you, Rarity." she whispered, her voice still raspy from the yelling.

"You're very much welcome, Applejack." She took a pair of apples and passed one to her. "Cheers."

"Cheers."

Two very wet crunches echoed through the room. In the most unladylike fashion, Rarity chewed with vigor, relishing the fresh sweetness of a genuine apple.

"So-" Rarity spoke with a mouthful of apple, "What..." she swallowed, "What do you want to do?"

Applejack finished her mouthful, "What do I want to do?"

The seamstress nodded, "Yes, you heard me correctly." she took another huge bit of the apple, "Whaght... you... wahnt to do." Rarity cleared her throat, "Rainbow Dash is currently occupied with Grizelda, Twilight is acting as Princess Luna's assistant, and Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie are busy keeping morale up. That leaves me. I have no clothes to fix, nor are there any gems to find. I am feeling a little useless at the moment, but I suppose there are worse feeling to feel."

Applejack stayed silent.

"How about a trip to the baths? We all need a few moments to relax, you especially."

"Alright. Sounds nice..."

"Good. And then after that we can spend a little time in the Command Center. I do love air conditioning. And maybe Twilight can explain what exactly is going on."

Applejack let loose a quiet, but rough laugh.

"If we ask her to explain anything, we're going to be there for the next two days."

They shared a giggle between them.

"Quite true."

***

Two Rangers stood in front of a destroyed metal door, grinning widely as they detonated Colonel Burton's explosives that they stole once again. Ghillie suits, long rifles, and spotter scopes were their prize, and, General's Points be dammed, they took their haul outside.

The air rang out with shots as the Rangers, now Pathfinders, shot bulls-eyes after bulls-eye at targets further than some of them could see. A few cheered as a particularly skilled soldier scored headshot after headshot on a cardboard target that was soon to be headless.

The General peered at the firing range, filled with metal barrels and other pieces of refuse all with more holes than a beehive. It brought him some sort of comfort that it had actually worked. Simply equipping the men with Pathfinder Rifles, and dressing them in Pathfinder Ghillie Suits, did not make them Pathfinders.

But it made them good enough.

The general silently frowned as he raised his binoculars towards a grey building. Scaffolds still covered the entirety of the structure, though they would soon be removed. For all intents and purposes, the signature weapon of the US Faction was complete and operational.

But there was still the pesky problem with the satellite. 

A Particle Cannon required a Reflector Satellite to redirect the beam towards the intended target, unless their intended target was the moon. Usually the various generals with sufficient clearance would be allowed use of Reflector Satellites already in orbit, but here they would have to launch one of their own, and that was going to take time that they didn't have.

But something else bothered him more.

"Two days, and nothing." Luna growled in frustration.

The General sighed, "There is something down there, something that can take Hammer Force head on and, most likely, win."

"Can we not send additional forces?"

Tom chuckled, not exactly sure what to feel at the moment, "This close to the offensive? We're going to need every man we can get. The forces that we already sent were already pushing it. In fact, the Battlemaster was one of the Frankenstein hackjobs that the gearheads at the War Factory managed to put together. The Minigunners we stole from the Chinese barracks, and the Tank Hunters are just our Missile Defenders with a new uniform. We're going to have to wait until after Stalliongrad to move down south."

"I do not like it. Those of my own guards that had joined them are some of the best Equestria has to offer. While we cannot hope to match your forces in steel and fire, we still excel in certain areas."

"And you've heard nothing from them."

She nodded, "Usually a messenger should have arrived every twelve hours at the latest. The trains headed to the Badlands have been found, though their crew and cargo have disappeared into the wastes. The last tidbit of information we have received confirms that Hammer Force had establishing a small base. After that, my messengers have stopped arriving."

"And your guards are much quieter and faster than anything we have..." The General hummed in thought, "...If they can't get through, then it's probably safe to say that we won't be receiving any information unless we go looking for it."

"While the thought of abandoning anypony disgusts me... Yes, that is a reasonable statement."

They paused.

"Then I guess we should be preparing for the offensive tomorrow."

"Of course. Best of luck, general."

***

We are ready sister. Almost eight hundred soldiers stand at the ready. We dominate the skies and earth. Zero Hour approaches.

Hurry, Luna. I don't know how long we can survive.

I know. But what information our scouts have been able to deliver to us have shown unusual activity to the south. Something stirs in the Badlands sister, something monstrous. Two days have passed, and yet they do no respond. I pray to mother that the ponies aren't harmed.

Constant Vigilance, Luna.

It was I who said those very words, Celestia.

And those words were never so true. Good luck.

And to you, sister.

***

The quick bath had done some good. Her mane was still loose and she was still missing her hat, but the worst sign of her injuries was a faint scar running down her foreleg, and even that was only half a thumb in length.

She and her group of friends rested in the chilled briefing room of the Command Center, though not everyone was being briefed, nor was everyone actually awake. Twilight poked a certain snoring pegasus in the ribs.

"...Armor Company Rhino will then approach and secure the southern entrance. Now, there's good news, and bad news. The bad news is, you're going to be alone for about four hours with absolutely no support from air or ground forces. The good news is, we've managed to scrounge up just enough for four Emperor Overlord tanks. Gatlings and all..."

The tankers grinned. In their totally American hearts, they were jealous of the Chinese for having the ultimate armored vehicle in existence.

"Applejack?" Twilight whispered as the her friend shivered, "Is it too cold for you?"

"No I'm- A'm fine..." she stuttered, "I just have to know."

"Know?"

"That we're going to win..."

Twilight sighed, and hugged her, agreeing that this needed to end.

"...Air assets will be available, but only when the weather allows for it..."

"...Pack your jammies, men..."

"...Tomorrow, we go on the offensive. Good Luck..."

***

Workers slaved, sweat dripping off of their tan bodies as they connected the new holes to the already extensive network of tunnels. Around them, soldiers rested for one final time before boarding.

"You know what you have to do. If what the dogs say is true, then you as griffons should have no problems getting us into the city. Do what you need to do, and we'll uphold our end of the bargain."

The pair of griffons nodded, "Understood. We're not the best, but we'll try."

The Ranger hummed in response, and turned to the group of ponies behind him.

"So, we got some last minute passengers?"

"Yessir." An indigo unicorn answered in a cool voice, "My name is Amythist. We're here to reassure the remaining civilian population that you are on our side and to act as advisers."

"You from this city?"

She nodded, "Born and raised, though last year I moved to Baltimare."

"Good enough for me. They said that special knowledge is needed to find your way through the industrial complex. Ever been in one of the factories?"

"Worked and lived in one."

"Even better. We'll ask for the details on the ride over."

Amethyst nodded.

"Speaking of ride, Rangers! Load up!"

Varying yells of HOOAH echoed across the barren land as an innumerable wave of soldiers piled onto the once-empty train. Wooden planks creaked and one could swear that the ground itself caved in slightly under the weight. Boots thudded as the Rangers and the newly trained Pathfinders found their place in the gutted-out remains of what was once a passenger coach.

The train lurched as the griffons managed to get the locomotive moving.

Their Mission - To infiltrate and disable the rails and rolling stock to stop any enemy reinforcements from arriving by train or any enemy officers from leaving, then proceed to secure the industrial sector.

***

"There will be much suffering for the oppressors!"

Colonel Burton shushed an entire four squads of zealous GLA infantry cheering in agreement at the motivated individual, having holed up in the same warehouse that he had occupied what seemed to be yesterday. 

Stealth Rebels made up the majority, but Saboteurs and Hijackers from Prince Kassad's forces were also present. The Pathfinders were also deployed, but only a scant few passed the hastily created test. They were already taking their positions near openings in the wall, rifles ready to fire.

Many of the men shivered, not used to this type of cold weather. But with a mutual hatred of oppressors, they hardened their hearts and persevered.

Their Mission - To destroy key supply dumps, secure the civilian sectors, and to act as immediate reinforcements for any group should the situation call for it.

***

"Rhino 1, this is Recon 4, we have visual of the city, two klicks ahead. The snow ahead is solid, but the river's frozen up, and there's snow on top of that. We marked the riverbed with flags."

"Roger that Recon 4, thanks for the advice. Rhino 1, out."

The snow that settled on the trees dripped and melted from the intense heat radiating from the engines, only to freeze again when they passed. The tanks of Rhino Company screamed through the winter forest, stealth and quiet out of their mind. The tracks left deep imprints in the ground, tossing up into the air what wasn't compressed. Just for this mission, they had been painted a spotted white and green camouflage.

And a few minutes later, the walls appeared.

The loaders were to load one HEAT shell, the drivers were to position their respective tank onto a preplanned space that had been scouted out the day before, and the gunners were to pre-aim on a particularly weak section of the wall. The Commander would give the order to fire, they would fire, blowing open an entrance to a location that the enemy would not have any defenses placed. 

Thus ended Phase 1.

After shooting any blocks still large enough and were in the right place to be a hindrance, the Emperor Overlord tanks would enter, followed by Rhino Company. They would then split up into two groups and secure their respective sectors with assistance from Colonel Burton and the GLA stealth infantry.

Thus ended Phase 2.

Phase 1 started exactly as planned. Like clockwork, Rhino Company positioned themselves. The gunners all aimed, and the loaders rammed their ammunition into the gun.

And they waited for their commander to give the order. For a second, the muffled whistling of the wind was the only sound that reached their ears. And a few minutes later, their radios blared.

"MAYDAY MAYDAY MAYDAY! THIS IS AURORA 1 GOING DOWN!"

That was not the order.

***

To a pilot flying high above the clouds, they seemed like a rolling mat of fluff slowly moving behind him. The winds and turbulence created swirls and patterns like a master painter's brush, following the contours and mountains with skill that could only be learned through years of practice.

His computer beeped, a little green dot slowly approaching.

While GPS satellites did not exist in this world, radio beacons were available through the Supply Center. They were not as accurate, but were more than useful for the mission at hand, and Colonel Burton always had a few handy.

His computer beeped again, the little green dot almost in visual range.

The pilot pulled out out a paper map. It had a cheery, somewhat festive border, as if the tourist pamphlet was urging him to join in the annual festivities. It had pictures of foals throwing snowballs and a couple, each drinking from a mug of steaming cocoa.

He shook his head. He didn't need any distractions.

His Mission - To destroy the fortified building that the officers were holed up in.

In thirty short seconds, he would be flying above Stalliongrad, and at supersonic speeds, a target the size of an office building would pass by in a split second.

The plane shuddered as it passed through a cloud.

"Easy girl." the pilot patted the console in front of him, "Just a few more seconds and we're done for the hour."

As if the aircraft heard him, it steadied.

The computer beeped, this time with a more urgent tone.

He slowed down to subsonic, opening the bay doors with absolutely no hesitation.

Even though the aircraft and his suit were rated to resist freezing tempratures, he could still feel the chill of the winter weather creeping inside.

The computer let loose a tone.

"Bomb away."

And the plane let loose a bomb.

Like a silent bird, the bomb glided on its course.

He did not see it strike the target, but he trusted the radio beacon. With his current altitude, speed of which the bomb would drop, and the blast radius of the bomb, it would most certainly hit the intended target.

"Comm, Aurora 1. Bomb has been dropped. Returning to base to rearm, resupply."

The acknowledgement sounded through the radio, the talker's voice scratched and muffled under the static.

The pilot sighed, and turned. It would be a smooth cruise back to the airfield, not that he would be complaining.

The plane shuddered.

"Easy, easy. Just a little more-"

He stopped, staring at the ice that had formed on the glass's edge. Little by little, the delicate crystals and tiny snowflakes disappeared back into water. 

A distant, but familiar shape of a griffon disappeared into the clouds.

"What in the..."

The computer blared, the noise shooting into his ears and making the pilot jump in his seat.

A red warning appeared on his screen, and the plane started to drop like a dead bird. The intense heat radiating out from his burning engines completely melted the frost, droplets of water trailing backwards.

In his panic, he slapped at the controls, accidentally transmitting his final words to anyone who had a radio.

"MAYDAY MAYDAY MAYDAY! THIS IS AURORA 1 GOING DOWN!"

Thick black smoke and flames trailed behind him as he and his plane were engulfed in a wintery cloud.

***

"What was that?"

Burton shushed the easily-scared Saboteur. Like the first time he had spent a few hours in the warehouse, he turned down the volume of his radio. The Hijackers and Saboteurs listened in as well, as the airwaves were soon filled with radio chatter.

"Damn..."

The colonel frowned, disappointed that the plan wouldn't go as planned. True, he was specifically trained to plan as he went along, but it would have been nice for things to work flawlessly for once.

They jumped as a banging shook the door.

"Please! You must let me in!" a voice whispered from outside.

The Stealth Troopers all grabbed their rifles, making sure that they were ready to fire. Burton stood off to the side of the door, ready to open the door and hoping that he would not get shot if there needed to be shooting.

"Baseball!" Colonel Burton stated clearly.

They all held their breaths.

"Minnesota!"

They all sighed in relief as he opened the door to the correct password.

There was an orange glow, as if someone had lit a cigarette. But instead of the acrid smell, it was as if someone had lit a campfire.

And the hijacker that they sent wasn't there.

Instead, there was a griffon, holding a slow match right above the touchhole of a cannon.

They then noticed the cannon, and that the wrong end was pointed towards them.

"Fire." the calm voice of a griffon pierced through the winter wind.

A blast and smoke filled the warehouse as a Saboteur blessed with luck blinked, a ten-pound cannonball smashing the wood beam next to his head into a flurry of timber needles.

"FIRE!" Burton's rough voice boomed throughout the warehouse, and the idea of stealth disappeared from their minds.

***

"...looks like they were expecting Burton. If possible, enter the city without alerting the enemy. But if a forcible entry is absolutely necessary, then skip disabling the track and trains, and go on to capturing some of the factories.

"Roger that. Stealth is preferable, but optional."

"That's about it. Command, out."

"Thanks for the tip. Alpha 3-1 out."

The Ranger switched off the radio with a click.

"What's up bossman?" More Soldiers gathered around him.

"Not exactly a change of plans, but we've got an additional order." He sat down, "If they notice that we're not supposed to be here, we're to skip disabling the trains and tracks and start capturing the factories."

"Why don't half of us go into the factories and the other half start with destroying their transportation?"

Amethyst spoke up.

"We can't do that. These aren't just any factories. They started out as mines, and somepony had the bright idea to build a furnace right above the mineshaft, and it just grew bigger from there. There are seventeen different factories, and each one has more than fifty miles of walkways and halls, and over two-hundred assembly lines, forges, and storage depots. We're going to need all of us if we're going to capture a single one."

A soldier whistled in awe.

"Capturing is one thing, but how are we going to keep it after?"

"There are heavy sealing doors that were built to contain an accident to one section, plus the smaller emergency locks on the regular doors. They can be closed by anypony, but can only be opened by a member of staff with the proper authorization."

"And you have the authorization?"

She nodded.

"So we go in, clear house, and lock the doors so they can't go back in?"

Amethyst nodded.

The soldiers murmured, some stretching their backs and others somewhat excited at the prospect at seeing some more action.

Then someone spoke up from the back with, quite frankly, a very good question.

"So why didn't we get briefed on this?"

Alpha 3-1 sighed and responded, "We took two days to organize and mobilize hundreds of men, vehicles, and aircraft before the last train carrying civilians leaves. If we did a proper briefing, then it would have taken us much, much longer. Command took ten minutes to brief us, and had us tell the plan on the way here. Time is a luxury right now."

"So... Why are we even taking the city?" 

Murmurs of confusion seeped out.

"What?"

"Lemme explain. If it takes us that long to mobilize, then why do we have to attack a city if it's going to be empty? I mean, it's going to be ours one way or another. The way we're doing it, we're taking the city, but if we just leave it, then it's going to be ours because we can waltz right in."

"And allow more ponies to be loaded away into who knows where?" Amethyst growled.

"What? It's not like they're being eaten or anything right? Still, I guess faster is better."

They all nodded.

"Any other questions?"

Soldiers shook their heads.

"Good, if the travel brochure is correct, then we should be arriving in..." he glanced at his watch, "...a minute or so."

They all clamored by the windows. The walls of Stalliongrad slowly drew closer.

"Corporal!" someone screeched.

The soldier looked around for whoever called him.

One of the two griffons that they had hired smashed through the wooden ceiling and fell onto the floor with a huff.

"Corp! They've barricaded the gates!" he pointed a talon in the general direction of Stalliongrad.

And sure enough, barely visible in the distance was a hastily thrown together pile of wooden timbers thrown on the tracks that blocked the heavy doors of the city.

"Looks like they knew we were coming." he sighed. "Stealth preferable, but optional, eh?"

The Corporal faced his men.

"Soldiers, up! Now!"

The Rangers shot up, "Sir?"

"I want everyone firing everything they got at those gates! I don't care if you've got nothing but a paintball gun, I want you shooting at those gates. MD! Think you can pop off a shot from here?"

The Missile Defender in the back grinned, "I'll give it a go, sir."

Alpha 3-1 turned back to the griffon.

"Get back in the engine. Slow us down and buy us some time, once the rocket explodes, give her full throttle and get back in here while the loco rams through the barricades. Once we're through, get back and make sure we stop where we need to stop. I don't want to foot it from one end of the city to the other or crash into a mountain. After that, just do what we told you to do and drive the train back."

The griffon nodded, and flew back to the locomotive.

"We're going to ram the doors?"

The Corporal nodded.

"We could stop before we enter and try to bring down the blockage cleanly, but that takes time, and there's probably an ambush waiting for us. If we try to reverse, we not only have the same risks as stopping, but we're also going to be slower than General Towns before his morning coffee for the first half mile or so. Best thing we can do now is weaken the barricade as much as we can, and smash right on through."

"That sounds like something the A-Team would pull off."

The Corporal turned and grinned, "Then it's a good plan."

***

"Rhino 1, Comm. Change of plans, proceed with breaching the wall then make your way to the Warehouses in the Industrial Sector. Colonel Burton's men are reporting heavy fighting and are requesting assistance."

"Roger that Command. Break through and deal with enemy currently engaging with the Colonel's forces."

"Be advised, ground teams will be capturing the factories. Watch your fire. Command, out."

"We copy. Rhino 1, out."

The Tank Commander frowned. It was once in a blue moon that Colonel Burton asked for an airstrike against a particularly heavily armored target. But now, even with allies, he had asked for assistance.

He reached for the radio.

"All tanks! Change of plans! We're going to breach the wall, but instead of securing our sectors, we're going to advance towards Colonel Burton's warehouse to provide fire support."

Various voices of acknowledgement sounded through the crackling radio.

"Overlords take point! All tanks, fire on my mark!"

With relief, the gunners took aim, glad for something to happen. The Emperor Overlords rumbled forwards.

"Fire!"

The air flashed, as loose and fluffy snow blown up in a miniature snowstorm around them.

A short but powerful barrage shook the wall down to its foundations. Ancient stones that had held against siege, turmoil, and the traditional Stalliongrad weather finally broke, a low pitched grinding sound echoing throughout the city as the blocks that made up the wall slowly slid out of place.

A single stone fell out entirely, tiny bits of gravel and dust blowing out from in between the cracks. It shattered on the hard rocks that surrounded the wall.

And in one whistle-worthy moment, the wall crumbled. A cloud of dust rolled out, past the trees and the buildings right behind the wall.

But with harsh winter wind soon wiped the air clean, and their damage was clear.

"All tanks, advance!"

The monstrous Overlords rumbled forwards, small bits of gravel from the wall crunching under their tracks as they breached the city. The smaller, but more numerous Crusader Tanks followed.

With the whistling of the wind, only the rumbling of the powerful engines and the grinding of the stone underneath the tracks broke the silence.

Homes stood silent, their windows boarded over and their insides dark. The street was empty, the fresh snow that had fallen on the cobblestones undisturbed and smooth.

"Proceed until we reach the fourth intersection. Go right, and we should have a straight line towards the warehouses."

"We copy." the driver of the leading Overlord responded.

Thus ended Phase 1.

A pair of eyes blinked from behind a boarded window.

***

An Arabic war cry sounded, but was not heard. The rattling of the Kalashnikovs was only bounced back towards their ears by the metal walls of the small warehouse.

"If you're going to spray and pray, spray and pray with it on your shoulder!"

Colonel Burton rolled his eyes at the Stealth Fighters. Having no formal training, the best shouldered the gun sideways, as if they were gangsters from the shadier areas of the Bronx. There were many who were simply bad, but one held his rifle in one hand, managing to shoot some of his own bullets in the ground immediately in front of his feet.

But collectively, they managed to confirm yet another Hollywood myth, though this time it was the enemy that miraculously avoided the bullets.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of brown feathers as a particularly brave griffon landed onto an outside balcony.

The Colonel squeezed off a few shots, with the griffon laying limp before he was done shooting.

The warehouse rocked violently as another cannonball tore through a vital support beam. His trained eyes could predict what they were doing the second they started to do so.

The roof groaned under the newly created stress, and the corner started to sag under the weight.

Colonel Burton peeked outside, and for once in his life, he was not embarrassed at calling for fire support.

Like the blizzard that dominated the skies, countless griffons surrounded the warehouse, looking for a way past the wall of bullets.

Cannons appeared from the inside of gutted-out houses, their crews loading and firing the guns with no mistakes or hesitations.

It was as if they were waiting for them.

***

Everyone gave it everything they got. 

All of the rifles were smoking hot, beads of sweat appearing on foreheads as the inside of the train filled with more and more toasty brass.

"Backblast area clear!?" The Missile Defender screamed, trying to force his voice past the strong winds that threatened to push him off of the roof of the train.

With his hands occupied with the rocket launcher, he swayed from side to side, trying to resist the frosty wind while aiming at a target that was quite literally the size of a barn.

"Clear!"

A deadening blast rattled the train's windows.

For a second and without ordering a cease fire, the Rangers lowered their weapons, crossing their fingers that the rapidly shrinking missile hit the target.

And hit it did.

It slammed into the barricade and exploded, sending heavy timbers flying into the air. The heavy doors shook and tilted, the iron hinges cracking and splitting by the force of the missile.

Though the doorway was still blocked, the white glow of the blizzard peeked from the other side.

"Get down!"

A pair of hands pulled the Missile Defender back into the carriage.

"Whoa! Got offa- Hey!"

Hands smacked his helmet and back as cheers from ecstatic soldiers filled the train.

"Nice shot!" The Corporal yelled from across the carriage.

"Thanks bossman!"

And as the destroyed barricades loomed closer and closer, the two griffons entered through the hole in the ceiling.

"Is this really going to work?" the taller one asked.

"Hell if I know." Alpha 3-1 shrugged, "That being said... Brace for impact!" he yelled.

Soldiers relayed the order and found something to hang onto.

They held their breaths as the train swerved into and passed the last curve before they would reach the gates.

"Ooh. This was a bad idea..." one of the griffons mumbled, wishing that he never left his bed that fateful day.

The gates grew closer, and the smell of charred wood reached their noses.

The gates exploded.

Timber and splinters rained down onto the wintery city, hissing as they landed in the fresh snow. The train shook, rumbling as if it would derail and end up on its side. The passengers all simultaneously gulped as the carriages swayed violently, a few shudders making their way from the wheels to the floorboards as small bits of debris crunched between the rails and the wheels.

But a minute later, the train screamed into Stalliongrad, and the two griffons clawed their way back into the locomotive.

A pair of eyes blinked from behind a boarded window.