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// How do you even breath in these things? 
// Story: Iron Hearts: Stray Shots and What Ifs? 
// by Hey its that Pony 
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A bunker sat on a hill within Ponyville, a battle raging just before it. Explosives could be heard in uncomfortably close proximity and horribly aimed clouds of solid slugs were sent in it's general direction as the rockcrete structure vomited out a defiant spray of bullets and energy blasts.

Within the structure, Sergeant Sturvon was cleaning the lenses of his gas mask for the umpteenth time that day while still trying to get his beret right. Everyone kept telling him that he should stop wearing the thing but damn it, he looked good in it. He was just another mercenary within the 38th Company's employ who had been placed in charge of this particular defense point in a strategic fallback position. Though he hadn't been told that he would be in charge of a dozen of the small intelligent horses that were native to this world. All of which seemed to be of the "Earth" Pony variety.

"Yee Haw!" One of the mares was having an enjoyable time with the heavy bolter set up in the middle, which would have been fine if she was aiming straight.

"You there!" He yelled at her between bursts. Unfortunately, his call was muffled by his mask which he had to pull up, stuffing his beret into one of his jacket pockets. "Hey mare! I'm talking to you!" This finally seemed to get her attention.

"Oh hey sarge! These automatic guns sure are a hoot aren't they?"

"This is not a shooting range private! This is serious combat! Why are you firing that gun like you've never done it before?"

"Well that's because she hasn't Sir." A deeper male voice replied from behind.

Sturvon turned around to address the stallion. "And who are you?"

"Well ah'm Red Delicious and that there is mah cousin Apple Fritter. She ain't never fired one of these bigger fancy guns so I figured It'd be ok since she ain't goanna hit anything cept them Ork fellers."

The Sargent was about to give Red Delicious an earful about stupid actions that can get a private shot on the field just before he noticed the big red apple mark on his butt. "Wait a second, are you an Apple too? Are you both related to that Orange Pony with the hat?"

"Well they sure are Sir." Said a new mare with a light blue coat.

Sturvon's attention was once again diverted. "And you are?"

"Well I'm Apple Cider. We never did get a proper howdy-do Sir, but I'm glad we found a chance to!"

Sturvon cautiously turned toward yet another mare who had diverted her attention to the conversation. "And you?"

The pony batted her eyes at him, "Apple Tart handsome." and gave him a wink, which he pulled back from slightly.

He looked around a threw up his hands. "How many Apples do I have in this bunker anyway?"

All fire ceased as twelve different hooves went up into the air and a resounding "Howdy!" echoed out.

Sturvon pulled his beret back out of his jacket pocket. "I knew it! I'm surrounded by Apples!" He pulled the gas mask back down and affixed his beret, setting it just right on the first try for once. He pointed back towards the enemy. "Keep firing Apples!"

Red Delicious pulled on his pants leg. "Ah, Sarge? You may wanna take a closer look out thar at what's comin."

Sturvon bent down and took a look through a pair of binoculars from another pocket to see what the stallion was talking about. What he saw was about six stories of  green rumbling behemoth that was an Ork Squiggoth that was coming right for the bunker.

"Hmm, I see. Who was in charge of the explosives set-up?"

An older stallion with a lazy eye and a scruffy beard spoke up. "Right here Sarge! Nugget Cider! Explosives expertise!"

"Right, is the bunker ready to go?"

"Soon are yew give the word I'll set this here dohicky and this place'll go sky high if anypony comes a knockin!"

"Good to hear. Do that as soon as we've escaped. All troops! Retreat at ludicrous speed!"

Sargent Struvon and the dozen Apple family members took the escape tunnel that had been dug earlier, with Nugget Cider activating the proximity sensors just as they left.

Meanwhile, the Squiggoth was lumbering along with little difficulty. Pausing for just a moment to knock a wrecked wartrukk out of it's way before it got to the bunker. Since the building wasn't being a threat, the great beast just walked over it, or it would have had it's right forward foot not come smashing down on the structure and collapsed the roof, triggering the explosives that had been left inside.

Upon the huge metal saddle, several orks were either knocked loose or jarred violently as their ride roared in pain and slouched over to the side. The three in the front looked about to locate the source of the disturbance.

"Wot wuz dat? Wut happened?" Said the largest of them, considered the Nob

The second, who was mainly in charge of trying to steer the beast scratched his head. "Uh, I think da Squiggoth's been jammed!"

"Whut? Whut do ya mean jammed? Wot kinda jam?"

The third, who was seated on the right, reached out and poked at a little bit of gore that had blown up and decorated the saddle basket. "Uh, razberry?"

This earned him a swift backhand and several broken teeth from the Nob.

"Smart arse! Git it fixed!"




Coming Soon!

The 38th Company officially licensed Flamethrower!
The kids will love it!