Authors:
Redskin122004
Editors:
TB3
Doctor Fluffy
Kizuna Tallis
Rush
TheIdiot
“The human heart has a way of making itself large again even after it's been broken into a million pieces.”
- Robert James Waller
“You both take care of each other, alright?”
Marcus opened his eyes, the early morning sky greeting him as he woke up from his sleep, the soft blue sky filtering through the tree branches. He groaned as he stretched, rubbing his neck to get rid of the soreness.
“Damn it…” he sighed as he decided to take a walk, to clear his head from the sense of regret welling within him.
’Away from the city, away from people, away from this war...’
He goes…
A few whispered words in Stephan’s ear is all it takes to cover his absence, and win him a few hours of peace. It’s the closest he can get to actually running away.
Westwards he heads, out towards what would be New Jersey on Earth. Now instead of the Ramparts, across from Manhattan there now unfolds a few thousand acres of wild forest. It’s not the regimented, ordered woodlands that blanket the hills and mountains towards Manehattan, but primal and wild, a pocket-Everfree wildlife preserve in place of the Jersey Shore.
‘I suppose some would call that an improvement...’
He doesn’t leave by the Manhattan bridge, but instead crosses the western fork of the Neighagra at the northernmost tip of the island, where the water runs fast and white over boulders that are just break the surface. The rapids are swift and the river deep, but he jumps from foothold to foothold without a care…
‘Come on Marcus, it’s just a stream!’
‘I’m not as agile as you Jacob!’
And then he’s beyond the city and river, within the borders of the forest. The scurrying wildlife give him a wide berth as he pushes deeper, leaving him alone with the burden of his thoughts.
His near meltdown in Canterlot brought up a lot of past regrets, regrets that he knew he could do nothing about, but still haunted him either way.
A fallen tree blocks his path, and he finger-flicks it aside, taking out his simmering emotions on this ‘scary’ forest.
After All, what is a wood or a corpse, but a literal world of cardboard?
“Come on, Mom. Seriously? Marcus and I can take on anything. I mean, he went on three tours to that same hellhole that dad went to and kicked ass! I’m one of the President’s personal bodyguards. We can take care of ourselves.”
The thought of his mother brings on a furious double-handed uppercut that gouges a crevice into a hundred-foot cliff. Birds scatter for miles…
...and suddenly Marcus felt ashamed. He came here seeking some peace, a guest in nature’s domain, and all he’s brought with him is The War.
That realisation is enough to throttle him back, and instead of hacking and tearing a path up the face of the cliff, he scales it, picking and choosing each handhold with care. Oh he could of simply jump and made it to the top easy enough, but this gave him time to focus on his thoughts.
At one point, he encounters a nest, in which a clutch of infant falcons have been left for awhile by their mother. Conscious that he may have been responsible for her absence, he delicately nudges a few stray chicks back into the next, and builds up the sides with a few hand-cut slabs of stone. The resulting rough wall stood just high enough to form a creche, keeping the little ones away from the edge.
‘Fluttershy would be proud...’ he snorted to himself. ’And my old drill sergeant...’
...and his mother.
At last he attains the summit, and decides that this is spectacular enough a destination. Taking in a deep breath, he sits himself down on the edge of the cliff, overlooked a vast swathe of evergreen and everfree woodland.
New New York is off to his left, in the north-east. Canterlot lies the other way, to the south-west. The Neighagra flows between the two points, and the low range of valleyside hills on which he sits eventually sweep up to form the roots of the Canterhorn.
Humans to one side, ponies on the other... or so it seemed at a shallow first glance.
And here, as always, was himself in the middle, trying his best to bridge the gap.
“Just like home,” Marcus said quietly to himself, closing his eyes to try and voyage back before this was his twisted definition of normality.
Back to his childhood...
Travelling the plains and prairies of the Midwest unfurled in memory.
Running through the forest as a child, laughing as his father chased him with a mock roar.
Climbing up on Ol’ TJ, his mother smiling gently as he nervously rode the old stallion.
Watching as Grandma doted on Jacob while Grandpa showed him how to clean the Marlin.
Watching Dad walk out the doors to his deployment…
And coming back in a box.
“I just… I am so proud of both of you… If your father was still alive... He would be down at Fred’s bar happily boasting how great his sons are. But… I don’t want to lose you both as well.”
Marcus opened his eyes, tears coming silently to his eyes as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the locket. He opened it, seeing his mother and father’s wedding picture, and one of him and Jacob while they were still young.
Marcus remembered his mother holding this very same locket before she gave it to him. Looking back on it now, her expression seemed curious, as though something was crossing her mind while she passed it on to him.
Now he knew. Past adventures and old friendships that she forged while she trekked this world of Equus, unaware of what she accomplished that many young children in the days before the ‘Conversion War’ dreamed of doing.
“Mom, don’t worry about it. We’ve been doing this for almost three years now. I am a glorified doorman and Jacob is protecting the most popular President since Kenndey. Not bad for a beer drinking Texan, not even terrorists want to mess with him.”
“She’s just worried about that portal in Switzerland. I mean, Ponies? Really?”
“Strange world we live in huh?”
“Just… Be careful.”
“She knew...” Marcus said out loud to himself, now that he was remembering his final time with his mother. “She knew something was wrong.”
It was a bit disconcerting to think about; what he and his younger brother had passed off at the time as ‘Mom’s usual worries’ had turned out to be more justified than ever, despite the later events that would occur and the posthumous revelations for all three of them.
Sometimes his mind drifted towards a rather frequent question; “What if?” What if he was there that day at home; could he had been able to use CPR to save her? What if Jacob had made it out of the White House still as himself; would he be standing side by side with his brother against the Solar Empire? Would their mother have told them, in her own words, about her connections with the ponies, with Tirek?
Plus all this ‘other worlds’ stuff, could give anyone a headache; just asking that question constantly would probably make him second guess his actions both here and later on in the final battle.
“Mom?”
“It’s nothing, Marcus. I was wondering why this Celestia keeps pushing for the potion. It doesn’t seem like something she would do. Why… why is their world so toxic to humans? It doesn’t make sense... we never had to before...”
“Uh… Mom, what are you talking about?”
“Yeah, sounds like you expected something else from them."
It was a clue that flew by the faces of two men, two brothers whose time was spent hunting the cowards that loved to blow up or kill innocent people early in their careers.
Looking back though… all those years spent fighting ISIS seemed so… pointless.
‘They bomb us, we bomb them. Innocents die on both sides, and we just learn to hate each other all the more...’
He fingered the patch on his shoulder: Lyra’s cutie-mark, surmounted by the words ‘FOR ALL’.
‘For All. Not all Americans, or all humans. For everyone’s sake… kinda puts everything that came before in a new light. I think, despite everything that’s happened, Mom would appreciate how we’re all on the same side now…
Shutting his eyes, Marcus closed the locket, humming to himself and remembering back to a childhood lullaby his mother had sung him to sleep by.
“She wanted to tell us,” he said at last, waiting for Tia to respond from inside his mind, but she remained silent. Looks like she wanted to give him time to mourn. “She knew… wanted to warn us that something wasn’t right. But she was afraid that we wouldn’t believe her… that we would have mocked her.”
Mocked her for the truth, that Megan Williams had walked on the surface of Equus in decades and millennia now past. The truth that she had battled no less a foe than Tirek himself, with a sorority of technicolour ponies at her side…
‘We wouldn’t have thought she’d gone crazy? Would we?’
No, they wouldn’t mock her. Oh sure, they’d probably needle her lightly, but then they’d move on, but never call her crazy and end it. They would have listened if she’d sat them down and talked to them. Right?
He wanted to believe that he would. He was her son.
But all he had was hindsight now...
‘But what of every other son who has seen a mother or father succumb to dementia… would we have assumed, or feared, the same?’
Poor Megan Renee… she had kept her adventures a secret for so long that keeping it buried was near-second-nature. Afraid of people calling her crazy. Afraid of being institutionalized. Afraid of being ostracized, of hellish experiences made to convince her that it had never happened to her.
Marcus was sure they would have listened to her. After all, a dimensional portal had just opened up on Earth’s front lawn. Surely they would of taken her warning with a grain of salt…
Wouldn’t they?
“Oh its just so weird, you know? Talking ponies. What would poor TJ think? He would probably think we’re replacing him with a cute mare or something. It would work out since they talk back, not like TJ at all, who likes to keep things to himself all the time. But I’m just babbling to myself trying to make sense of everything, even after all this time. That’s all.”
“Crazy I know. But they’re so cute to look at. I mean, they have to be friendly.”
“Ha! Maybe they’re evil invaders that use cute faces to catch us off guard?”
“Like those crazies in the ‘Human Liberation Front’ always spout off on? Hahaha! Or what about those nutcases in the ‘People for Earth’s rebirth’!”
“I’m kind of worried about them. That reverend seems like a good man, but the new people taking control, like Michael Carter? Something’s not right.”
“I swear the things people come up with. What about you Mom? What side are you on?”
“I am on the side of all mothers. Who wants their babies to live a normal life. Sadly for me, I got you two. Now shut your pie holes and come here."
Oh how that would haunt him for days once he was done fighting, when the ‘War’ started...
...how he had watched as a mockery of his brother appeared on a forced live feed from the White House, to proclaim his ‘love’ for Twilight Sparkle, before fleeing the oncoming retaliation as the US Army retook the capital.
...how he’d called home after days of fighting only to receive nothing but an answering machine.
“Heh… Mom could never deal with the smartphones.” Marcus felt the tears streaming down his cheeks. “She… she couldn’t understand them.”
How long did she lie there?
How long did she lie on the ground, dying, believing she lost both of her sons to beings she befriended so long ago in her childhood?
How long did she suffer in the knowledge that the same species she made friends with were now killing her people? Knowing that her friends from there were dead? Feeling as if her efforts to save Dream Valley had been all for nought? That perhaps…. the ponies were better off dead, if this was the thanks they offered mankind in payment.
How long did it take for the regret to set in that she saved them from the monster Tirek until she died?
How deep had the hurt and betrayal bit, before that bony bastard Death showed her the last mercy, and took her away from it all?
The only reason anyone in Blaine knew was something wrong was when TJ came running into town, whinnying and stirring up a ruckus. They followed him back to the ranch, kicked down the door and tried to drag her to the porch, to revive her, to kickstart her stopped heart and restore life to those pallid, sightless eyes.
It was too late for them to do anything.
He felt like a failure, even when he had been thousands of miles away, fighting to survive, and to protect those within the Embassy. Even later, rescuing survivors across France, he still felt like the worst kind of scum - a kid who had failed his mother when she needed him.
There was nothing he could have done, but that didn’t ease the grief; ever since his father died, Marcus had always been there for his mother. Even skipping school some days to help her on the ranch.
“Mom… what should I do?” he whispered, gazing down on the valley. “What do you want me to do? I failed you… failed Jacob… Dad.”
And then anger set in.
All of it for that monster.
Tirek.
Damn him. Damn him to the darkest pits of oblivion. It was all because of him - the suffering and deaths, the destruction of the world… losing them.
He stood up, the runes flaring to life as he felt the anger began to well up. Magic began to pour from his body as all of his wrath and hate and despair coalesced around a single desire…
...to unleash hell on the monster that caused all of this. To end the beast who caused all of this hell and havok, solely because he got his jollies from inspiring death and destruction.
He…Tirek, was no better than the people Marcus had fought against all his life. Another coward who fought through terror and zealotry and brainwashed chattel slaves...
He was going to pay for this. Marcus would do everything in his power to make that happen-
“Mom?”
“Both of you are so much like your father. I am so glad he lives on through you both, growing into honorable men like him. Always take care of each other, family is the most important thing you can ever have in this world. Never forget that.”
“How can I ever forget this giant?”
“Same, only instead of giant, short stack is a better description.”
“Never mind, let me forget him. He’s a jerk.”
“Behave, you two. Promise me you will never stray from the path you both set yourselves on.”
“We promise.”
*HONK*
“There’s your cab. Get going you two, don’t miss your flight.”
“Love ya, Mom!”
“I’ll see ya later, Mom.”
“I love you both so much. Take care of yourselves!”
The magic cut out. Marcus wiped his eyes and struggled to focus himself. He was a Colonel, dammit, the Commander. He didn’t cry...
No, that was a lie. Screw definitions of what it meant to be a man. His heart ached, and he didn’t need to hide that pain behind a stoic facade while he was alone.
The tears came, fierce and flowing, and they didn’t stop until he had bled his eyes dry as he collapsed back down…
Time felt like it passed by slower as he sat at that cliff, unleashing all the pent up sadness and regret he’d been holding in for too long now. He slowly took several deep breaths to steady himself and actually felt a bit lighter now. Sure he didn’t feel better, but then again, when you have to let it out...
And then, in the distance, he heard the sound of machinegun fire. Turning his head to the east, he saw flames billowing from New New York.
“What the hell?” Marcus stood up, frowning as plumes of smoke began to rise. That was not normal, even for a chaotic city created by Discord.
More sounds came across on the breeze. Screams, of terror, or pain, of rage.
It was a song he knew well, a symphony he had sung in for years. Now it seemed the orchestra was calling him back...
“God damn it, at least give me one day’s rest!” Marcus snarled as he looked up to the sky. “You gave yourself one rest day a week!”
He took out Jericho and Jackel, checking the magazine that Discord had issued to him.
“Well, Discord, you claimed these hold about four hundred rounds apiece, and regen with magic, so I should be fine. Though its going to be a bitch to reload these later if its slow as hell.”
Marcus tilted his head, popping his neck as he stared down at the city…
His city…
“Well Mom, if this is a way for me to get my ass into gear… I hear you. I believe you...”
He might doubt his faith, himself, and the basic nature of men and ponies alike, but he had faith in the memory of his mother.
‘For her sake, Amen...’
He leapt off the cliff, falling until he pulled his legs up and kicked his feet out in a TK ‘airbending’ blast, slowing him down enough to land safely, kick off from a standing start and rush towards the city. Trees and boulders merged into a blur as he flew over, under and through them, feet speeding across the ground until he finally reached the Manhattan Bridge, where something like a tiger dappled with scales was attacking several soldiers just where the highway petered out into native Equestria soil. Not even pausing, Marcus leapt off the ground, soared overhead, inverted himself off the shoreside suspension tower, and powered back at the monster, introducing its face to his feet at speeds measurable on the Mach scale.
The animal went down hard but simply rolled back onto its feet hissing in anger at the attack, much to his surprise.
“That kick should've broke its neck,” but Marcus couldn’t think anymore on it as the tiger leap back at him, forcing him to grapple with the beast.
After a minute of grappling with the monster, rolling over the pavement into the dirt floor that felled a hundred yards of forest, Marcus impaled the beast’s eyeball on Jericho’s barrel and squeezed the trigger…
’No fancy dual-wielding crap. No gun-katas or pistol-fu. This is a test-range, and you can’t test a weapon when spamming rounds like shit.’
...the blast turned the back of the big cat’s skull inside-out, a huge flap of skin and bone hanging down over its shoulders like a cat-flap. The creature’s other eyeball, popped like a champagne cork from its socket by the overpressure, steamed softly on the ground, boiled white.
And then, after a momentary spasm of the limbs, a flicker of magic engulfed the corpse, and reduced it to a handful of pink ash on the breeze.
Marcus held up Jericho and wiped the blood from the muzzle and slide, even as it was slowly dissolving away before his eyes.
‘Discord was right. This thing is a damn hand-cannon. Anything this hits stays down.’
And the Jackal was even bigger, with all that entailed... a longer barrel meant greater muzzle velocity, a larger calibre carried a bigger payload. It would be like taking scoops out of his foes with a subsonic icecream scoop…
Perfect...’
It should have horrified him that he desired his personal sidearms to do nothing but kill, to be weapons incapable of firing incapacitating shots.
It did not. If he wanted to defang his foes, he’d wade into fire and pull their teeth out with his bare hands. All he needed now was a gun with the spirit of a jackal, and a pistol powerful enough to bring down the impregnable walls of Jericho...
Turning to face his soldiers, Colonel Marcus Renee, Supreme Commander of the Allied Combined Forces, met his stunned soldiers in the eye.
“Sitrep.” Marcus watched as his men shook their heads, a PHL armored Earth pony quickly trotting up to him.
“Just as confused as you sir.” He saluted him as he spoke. “One second we were doing gate duty, next thing we know a whole pack of those tigers came out of the forest and began to to attack. That was the last one and they are tougher than even the new foals in armor the Tyrant spits at us.”
“Well, first thing we should do-” Marcus started to say, before the radio blared out.
“All units! Rendezvous at the Tower! PHL units, pass out weapons and saddles to all Equus troops now!” Stephan’s voice filtered through, sounds of gunfire echoing in the background.
“What he says.”
Hearing that, Marcus holstered Jericho, and drew out Jackal. Comparative testing at its best.
“You heard the man. You, and you-” he pointed to a griffon soldier and PHL-affiliated pegasus “-hold the bridge and stay sharp. At the first sign of enemy forces heading your way, you pull back and sound the alarm. All other troops, MOVE OUT!”
Another day, another fight.
The war went on.
Continues on in
Harmonious Stronghold