Chaos Incorporated

by DontTreadOnMe777777

The Battle of Las Pegasus

The night had fallen cold and silent. No clouds obscured the bright moon and her stars, but a brisk breeze blew across the ocean, only stopped by the cliffs facing the waves.

“Was this how your ancestors felt crossing the Delaware?” Ricky asked a chattering Jeremiah, grinning.

“Well, then it was the thick of winter. It definitely ain’t that here,” Jeremiah explained.

“Hopefully we can at least pin down the ‘flawless victory’ part of it down, eh?” Ricky turned around, to face the rest of his rowboat. “Right, boys?!”

A quiet cheer greeted him, across all the rowboats of his miniature flotilla. About twenty boats had been built in the couple of hours they had had before dark arrived. Now, these untested vessels were on their maiden voyage, carrying a strike force across the choppy bay and into Las Pegasus’ dock.

At least, that was the plan that Ricky had devised.

Right now, Ricky and the others weren’t feeling important, they were feeling numb. His leather rifle strap was chilling his shoulder slowly. “When this is all over, we’ll warm ourselves with the ponies’ still-warm fireplaces! Maybe take a swig of their unfinished brew!” The men perked up at the promise of a warm fire after the battle. The rowboats began to move a little faster.

The boats had to come out of the mouth of the river, and hug the side of the cliff to avoid being taken out by the current, but now they were in the final stretch of open water before the dock.

Las Pegasus itself was still quite awake, most of the city’s windows still glowing with light. None of the buildings were skyscraper tall, but most were at least a few stories. Only near the outskirts could Ricky just make out the faint lights of one-window houses.

‘Looks like Celestia’s prosperous kingdom isn’t as equal and happy as she might think it is,’ Ricky thought amusedly.

He quickly stopped his mental course as he snapped back to the fact that the edge of the dock was now being passed by his lead rowboat.

They had an, albeit tentative, foothold inside Las Pegasus.

Ricky could now see the dark silhouette of one of the Equestrian frigates, floating silently at dock. Two of them were at least a deck taller than the others. 'The pair of man of wars,' Ricky quickly concluded. "Pull us in there, close in on the man of war to the left," Ricky pointed to guide the helmsman, who nodded and tilted the rudder level accordingly.

Now that his own rowboat was moving to its corrected position, he looked behind his shoulder to the rest of the convoy. "Another one on the other man of war, everyone else to the dock," he instructed as quietly as he could while still getting his voice over the wind.

As Ricky's boat pulled in close to the ship's hull, he saw the slightly faded writing on the wood, written in white paint.

"ENS Swift," Ricky murmured.

The men quickly checked their equipment, opening their magazines and bolts for a triple-check. Once that was done, they slung their weapons over their shoulders and grabbed onto the ropes and netting hanging off the side of the ship.

The back of the boat, however, began passing up bags to the men already climbing the hull. Once the few bags had been hauled up, the rest also climbed up onto the ropes.

Ricky was the first up onto the deck. Quietly, he looked over the railing onto the deck.

A few pony sentries strode around on the deck, spear points held high in the air. Ricky looked back down at the men below him. "Silencers, if you have 'em." Some of the Germans nodded and pulled out their MP40s, screwing on silencer barrels as they held them between their legs.

Once everybody was ready again, Ricky nodded. He held up a hand, three fingers up. "On three," he lowered a finger as he counted down.

"Two," he continued. Thoughts of what could happen began to swim in Ricky's head, but he forced them all out.

"One," he took a deep breath.

"Go!" With that, he rushed up the last foot of the side and hurdled over the railing, to the utter shock of the ponies on sentry duty.

The ponies didn't think to react until a small contingent of men had also gotten on board. When they did react, most immediately rushed for the intruders. Two ran for the bell on deck, obviously trying to alert the ship.

One of the Germans raised his MP40 and fired a small burst. The lead pony running to the bell fell silently, a crumpled heap. The one behind tripped over the body, falling onto the deck with a thud. Another German took a shot with a pistol, unsilenced but still quiet enough to be inconspicuous. The pony, obviously a stallion, cried out quietly, but didn't stop squirming. He tried to get back on his hooves, but one of his legs gave out, and he didn't try again, laying there in pain.

Two of the Roman legionnaires faced the oncoming sentries, four of them. Both legionnaires grabbed their pilum, quickly angling the javelin-like weapons up and throwing. One of the ponies was struck right in the chest, dead before he hit the ground. The other missed its mark, clattering on the wood. Both Romans readied their gladii and shields as the ponies leveled their spears and charged.

Melee began, broken up by silenced bursts of fire from the Germans. Ricky himself also joined the melee, him and another Roman ganged up on one sentry as the pair of humans moved to cordon him off from his comrades.

The pony knew being separated from his fellow ponies was akin to a death sentence, and so he began to lunge ferociously at the Roman, attempting to break his block.

The pony slipped up. The Roman was able to grab the spear after a thrust too far forward, and pulled it and the pony to the ground. Not hesitating, he stabbed the point of his gladius straight into his ribs. The pony cried in agony for a moment before the legionnaire twisted the hilt, killing the pony and leaving a very nasty gash in the process. Ricky could see the white of bone underneath the blood.

Without hesitating, Ricky ran over to the railing and heaved his dinner of bread and apples over the side. It made a splash. He tried to retch again, but his stomach told him there was nothing left to retch. ‘Ugh. That was disgusting.’ Now feeling miserable, the teen lurched back from the railing, turning only to be greeted with the corpses. The others had already gone down to the second deck.

Following them, Ricky discovered something: All the sailors were either down further below or weren’t on the ship at all. Guessing the former, Ricky nodded to his infiltration crew, now numbering about 50.

After helping unload the strike teams, the other troops, under Karl, had already gone on to disembark on the docks. So far, he hadn’t heard any major fighting yet.

“Commander, the supplies are in place,” Ricky turned to see a German saluting him. He nodded. “Alright, let’s blow this popsicle stand - literally and figuratively!”

The trooper nodded, pulling out a match. He scraped it on his helmet, which did successfully light it, before he shoved the match up against a fuse. The flame caught. Ricky glanced at the stack of powder barrels and dynamite, bundled in bags. The fuse wasn’t very long. They had thirty seconds at the most.

Ricky waved his hand. “Come on, to the boat! Double-time!” Everyone nodded and quickly ran back up the wooden stairs to the railing. Ricky followed them again, and by the time he met up with them again the loading had already started.

Everyone was quickly inside. “Hurry! Row, you bastards!” The oarsmen did as demanded, and within ten seconds the boat was - hopefully - out of range of the blast, although the men did keep rowing, just in case.

‘God above, let us be far enough. I don’t wanna die tonight,’ Ricky mentally prayed as he crossed himself.

Not two seconds later, the ENS Swift didn’t exist anymore.

The explosion rocked the docks, a massive fireball scorching the bricks on the surrounding warehouses. Jagged splinters of wood, cannon barrels, cannonballs, all manner of things were sent airborne. ‘I think I just saw a fork embed itself in the dock,’ Ricky thought, a bit terrified.

Thankfully, nothing hit the boat or anybody in it. Ricky, along with most of the others, let out a breath none of them realized they’d been holding.

“When’s the other one going to go up?” Ricky turned around.

And promptly came face-to-face with the hull of the other man-of-war.

“Shit! Bail, NOW!” Everyone, faced with the pants-pissing realization that they were floating casually next to a giant wooden grenade, almost fell over each other as they all quickly tumbled off the rowboat.

Ricky hit the water with a splash, quickly swimming down and generally away from the man-of-war. ‘Okay, now I’m more than a little terrified!’

The percussive shockwave was enough to flip Ricky upside down. Thrashing wildly, he managed to right himself, right as a cannonball suddenly sank past him, headed down into the black of the seabed.

‘Crap, falling debris!’ Ricky looked up to see splinters and other miscellaneous items raining down into the water above him. He had to dodge some of the heavier items, but most was too light to even bother. That, or it just floated on the surface.

‘Should be clear now,’ Ricky decided, swimming up. Thankfully, he wasn’t too deep, so what air he did have left would be more than enough to last.

He surfaced, gasping slightly. ‘Oh yes, air feels good,’ the Scot mentally smiled. Thankfully, his rifle had stayed on through his thrashing.

That mental smile was gone as soon as he saw the German floating a few yards away from him, a particularly jagged splinter sticking out just below his right shoulder. Ricky could hear the struggle in his ragged breathing. "Soldier!" He swam over to the dying man, quickly grabbing hold. "Come on, I'm getting you to shore!" Ricky swam for all he was worth, trying to pull a body, a heavy and muscled one at that.

It took only a half-minute, but to Ricky it felt like an eternity too long. The soldier's breathing was even slower, quieter.

Ricky fell to the rock of the slipway, dragging the German next to him. He was utterly exhausted, freezing, and, thanks to his unsettled stomach, hungry.

But he had a job to do.

Slowly, Ricky pulled himself up to his knees. "Damn," he cursed himself under his breath, "no medical supplies."

The German rolled his head sideways, looking right at Ricky as he tried to find some way to save the soldier's life. "Commander, is that you?" He coughed weakly.

"Yeah, it's me. Don't worry, it'll be alright. Help'll be here soon." Ricky looked around futilely, searching for anybody else. Nobody. Just the pair of them.

The German laughed quietly. "That's... bullshit and you know it," he pointed out knowingly. "Don't get down... about it, though. You've done a... good... good job so far." His voice dropped lower, weaker. "Schutze Kerle, sir." He raised his hand slowly.

Ricky took it, shaking it quite weakly. "An honor, Schutze Kerle."

“I’ve heard quite a… lot about you, Commander,” Kerle grinned.

“Call me Ricky, Kerle. As for hearing a lot about me, I don’t exactly see why. I’m just a poor kid that abandoned his family to take over a kingdom,” Ricky matched his grin, but with a sad undertone.

“Ricky, I’ll give you some advice… as a man who’s… seen Hell on Earth. Never… Never forget your family.”

Ricky’s eyes glistened in the moonlight. “I’ll try and remember that, Kerle.”

Kerle smiled. "With any... luck, I'll see... you back in Hell... if it comes to that," he coughed again. This time, it was red. His breathing slowed, off-beat.

"No, no, don't you leave me! That's an order, soldier!" Ricky began to shake Kerle, trying to jolt him back into the land of the living.

"Dead men... don't take... orders, sir." And with that, Kerle's chest stopped moving.

"No! Don't you, don't, no... don't you die on me... don't..." Ricky broke down. He lowered Kerle’s body back to the concrete slipway slowly. He took two fingers and, with one last long glance, closed Kerle’s eyes for the last time.

He couldn’t hold it back anymore. Ricky outright cried. He cried for Kerle. He cried for himself. He cried for the ponies. But most of all, he simply cried.

That was how the other soldiers that had lived through the explosion found their commander, sobbing quietly into his hands, sitting next to a dead German.

“Ricky?” Ricky lifted his head to see Jeremiah stumble over to him, soaking wet. The medic knelt down next to Ricky, whereupon he finally seemed to notice Kerle’s dead body. “Oh, here, give me a-”

“He’s gone.” Jeremiah stopped. Slowly, he turned to face Ricky, who still hadn’t moved, hadn’t stopped staring at Kerle.

“You okay, Ricky?” An almost imperceptible nod was the only answer Jeremiah got. “Come on then, we’ve got to move. The ponies’ll be here any second now.”

As if on cue, two ponies ran around the block corner. The humans, wretchedly cold and tired from their most recent experiences, merely stared at the new arrivals.

One was a pegasus. The other had no appendages, but carried a crossbow with no crank, interestingly, instead of a spear.

Quickly, he lined up a shot, one hoof raised to fire while the other three stood to stabilize his body. He fired. The shot hit a Roman in the leg, right between the greaves. The legionnaire wailed as he crumpled to the ground, clutching the injured leg.

Observing this, Ricky had one thought: ‘I’m done.’

All of his sadness, everything Ricky had contained since that fateful first day: frustration, anger, anguish, all of it was converted into rage. Physical rage. Ricky’s vision completely filled with red, obscuring almost all of his sight.

Most of what happened next was out of Ricky’s control, the bloodlust of his ancestors guided his actions.

Basically a barbarian berserker in both physical and mental capacity, Ricky fully demonstrated this by storming straight up to the two ponies. The one with the crossbow quickly tried to draw the string back, but he was too slow.

“Take this, you son of a bitch!” Ricky yelled furiously as he ripped the crossbow right out of the pony’s hooves, before slapping him with it so hard it snapped in half. The front half flew off to the side, leaving Ricky grasping the jagged handle.

The other tried to back off, but Ricky wouldn’t give. Lunging forward, he thrusted the jagged edge straight into the pony’s chest.

The pegasus fell forward with a cry, before falling stone-cold silent. The handle propped the dead body up, so it looked like, in a gruesome way, it was still alive.

Now that his opponents were dispatched, the bloodlust began to fade; the adrenaline being replaced by weariness. “Mein gott, kid!” Karl’s voice prompted Ricky to turn around, coming face to face with the German. “That certainly wasn’t merciful of you,” he admonished.

“We aren’t here to be merciful,” Ricky barked.

He turned to the rest of the stragglers and the men who had set up a perimeter after unloading. “I want Romans on me, along with Herkel,” he pointed at the sniper, “and a machine gunner. Everyone else work towards joining with MacArthur and Decius’ forces.”

Within a few minutes, Ricky had twenty Romans, Herkel, and a MG43-carrying soldier named Guderian, and were on the move towards the first major road intersection. ‘Securing the road junctions’ll help us move throughout the city much faster,’ Ricky thought as he slowly worked his way down the street stretching in front of him.

When they reached the edge of the house on the curb of the intersection, still no contact had been made. However, now Ricky held up a hand. “Halt!” he whispered as quietly as possible. “Everyone pile into this building. Guderian, you set up in the windows, watch the street.”

Silently as possible, Ricky kicked in the door, and everyone piled in through the hole. It was a store, the lights off and closed down for the night. Most of the Romans, occupying the first floor, began to relax. Herkel and Guderian, accompanied by two legionnaires, tramped up the stairs to the second floor of the two-story building. ‘There’s no way any ponies live up there… right?’ Ricky hoped there wasn’t.

If there was, he didn’t hear any commotion. Silence reigned as everyone waited with bated breath for the all-clear.

Eventually, one of the legionnaires came clanking back down the stairs. He saluted. “Commander, seems to be all clear from upstairs.” As the others came back down, Ricky nodded.

“Herkel.”

The sniper looked up. “Yes?”

“Wait, you speak English?” Ricky asked, taken aback.

“No good,” the sniper tried to explain in obviously broken English.

“Oh,” Ricky nodded, “well, I need you to find a vantage point. Somewhere tall,” Ricky punctuated his words with hand gestures to get the point across, putting his hands apart to emphasize the “tall” part.

Herkel looked lost for a moment, but then nodded. “Tall,” he repeated.

“Yeah, tall,” Ricky said, letting out a sigh. “Guderian, help?”

Guderian just stared back blankly. Ricky put a hand to his temple, massaging it slowly. “Great. Just what I needed.”

Ricky paused for a moment, confused. “Wait, where’s The Cars? I just said the title of one of their biggest songs.” After The Cars continued to not appear, Ricky shrugged. “Ah, who cares,” he shrugged. He turned back to his assorted troops.

“Come on boys, we’re going left from here, into the city proper,” he quickly briefed them, before turning around and walking back out the door. Confidently, he strode into the alleyway.

It was only after the yelling from just around the corner, and the crossbow that clattered off the street that Ricky began to rethink his decision. “Shit!” Ricky dove for the first cover he noticed. A magical beam flew inches from his face mid-dive.

He slid behind his new cover, a parked carriage, wood painted a peeling white. ‘My ass is visible under the carriage body, but there’s no way they could hit that small a target,’ Ricky reasoned with himself as magical and physical bolts began to pepper the carriage and the ground.

‘Wait a minute… they might not be able to hit me, but I sure as hell can at least get a peek at their positions!’ Ricky got down on his belly, using the wheel as cover while he looked out from under the bottom.

In front of him was a building that took up a whole side of the intersection. Three stories tall, the sign on top read "Lucky Horseshoe Casino". Hiding in windows were ponies, most holding crossbows, others unicorns. Ricky unslung his rifle, holding the trusty beast in his hands. "Let's get some!" He held it up to his cheek and began firing at ponies in the windows.

Unicorns were primary targets. 'Can't trust that damn magic,' he argued to himself. Two were hit, going down with bullet holes in their muzzles. The rest, seeing what was coming, took cover.

This was an opportunity to move, one that Ricky wasn't going to waste. Looking around, he spotted the door of the closest building. It was closed, but hopefully it would give quickly.

Hopping up, the teen made a break for the door. The ponies, who were just getting up to man the windows once again, immediately spotted Ricky as he reached the door, kicking at it.

'Shit, come on!' Ricky kicked again. The door groaned, but held.

A third kick. Half the door splintered. The lower half. 'Not good enough!' Running thin on patience, Ricky flipped his rifle around, and hit the top half with a well-placed rifle butt. A crossbow bolt thudded into the wooden frame, a few inches away from Ricky's right ear.

Quickly climbing through the door debris, Ricky took cover by quickly flipping over a table. Good timing, as a bolt of blue magic broke through one of the windows with a shattering crash.

Ricky sunk down as low as possible behind the table. 'So, a restaurant,' he noticed in an oddly clear moment of thought. He also quickly noticed that the ponies had stopped firing at him. Cautiously, he peeked out from behind the table.

What he saw astonished him. Guderian was by himself, running in the open as he held his trigger down, spraying up all the ponies while they were distracted by the table in the restaurant.

The fire was much less in volume from the beginning, but the ponies did still put up a decent volume for their number.

Now, seeing the situation as such, the Romans ran out into the open as well, attempting to close on the building. Eventually, most of them stacked on the front wall of the casino, clustering around the door. The fire from the windows had slowed to a trickle. 'Time to go,' Ricky made up his mind, before standing up again. Quickly, and with rifle in hand, he sprinted out the door.

Nothing even landed near the teen as he ran, slamming up against the casino door with a thud. The door instantly gave, being a glass double-door that was feebly locked. No ponies were in the immediate vicinity, so everyone that piled in began to fan out.

True to the sign, it was a casino on the inside. Slot machines took up almost the entire floor, lined up in long rows. In the center was a grand staircase to the floor above, and the floor above that. "Ponies are up there, boys,' Ricky pointed at the staircase.

"What're we going to do to get across the open floor, Commander?" Ricky turned to see one of the legionnaires looking at him questioningly.

'He has a point. The ponies will probably be just above us on the balcony, waiting. They'll slaughter us with crossbows and magic.' Ricky pondered this for a silent few seconds. Suddenly, an idea dawned on him, so obvious that it surprised Ricky that he hadn't thought of it before.

"Legionnaires, form testudo! We're getting up those damn stairs," Ricky ordered.

Quickly, the twenty formed a small square of shields. "Alright. Go slow, distract them. I have a plan."

Slowly, the formation clanked and jangled forwards, out onto the main casino floor. True to prediction, crossbows began to snap and fire at them, but the shields did their job.

Then some pony fired a magic bolt. It hit one of the shields.

Thankfully, it staggered the legionnaire behind the shield, but he quickly recovered. Ricky let out a breath. 'Good to know magic isn't truly a kill-all thing,' he noted.

"Guderian," Ricky turned to the German, "I'm gonna need one of those stick grenades."

"Stielhandgranate?" Guderian pointed to the stick grenades on his belt.

"Ja," Ricky nodded. 'At least I know that much German,' he thought thankfully. Guderian unclipped one of his grenades, handing it over to the Scot.

"Herkel, how do you use this thing?"

Herkel looked Ricky dead in the eye. "First, you stupid for run. Second, give." He outstretched his hand. Ricky handed over the grenade.

Herkel pointed to a cap on the bottom. "Um... verdammt. Watch." He unscrewed the cap, then pointed to the string. "Pull."

Ricky nodded. Taking the grenade back, Ricky walked to the edge of the second story ledge. Taking a deep breath, he pulled the string, before quickly tossing it up and over the ledge.

There was a few yells, and some hooves pounding on the floor above, but most of the sounds were of curiosity.

About two more seconds of questioning noises, and then the grenade went off. "Go!" Ricky shouted.

The legionnaires immediately broke testudo, running for the stairs. Scale armor clanked furiously, before Ricky, Guderian, and Herkel all joined them.

Ricky was the first one to storm up to the top of the stairs that led to the second floor. Without even thinking, he raised his rifle up and fired a shot.

A scream further down the slot machines proved that, almost impossibly, instinct had proved right. Herkel gave Ricky a look. "How?"

Ricky just shrugged, half-astonished himself. "No clue." The legionnaires stormed past him, attempting to secure the floor, but quickly became pinned down by crossbows. "Guderian, fire. Herkel, go left, I'll go right." The two nodded. Guderian quickly threw his bipod down on the top of the nearest slot machine, then let his MG43 do the talking. Ponies dove to the ground as bullets pinged off slot machines and embedded themselves in walls.

"Damnit," Ricky muttered as he ran while trying to stay hidden under slot machines. 'Hope Herkel's doing the same,' he mentally prayed.

He rounded the corner. A pony already had his crossbow trained on it. He fired at the now-exposed human.

Ricky exhaled sharply when he saw the crossbow bolt fire just wide, grazing the wall. He still wasted no time in taking cover once again behind the corner slot machine.

'Rush or shoot?' Ricky could hear the peculiar stretching sound of the string being pulled back without a crank. 'Shoot it is then. Draw his fire.'

Tentatively, Ricky peeked around the corner. The pony was just shoving a bolt in place of the old one, about to be ready to shoot again.

Exhaling, Ricky brought his rifle up and shot. The shot dug into the wall with a ding. The pony returned. The arrowhead punched into the slot machine a few inches above Ricky's head. Unlike video game teachings, the machine did not suddenly start spouting coins.

Ricky pulled his gladius out from the belt-loop on his jeans, laying the rifle down. Springing to his feet, he rushed where he saw the pony ten feet away, pulling the string back with... 'His hoof, huh? Interesting,' Ricky noted even as he charged the pony, quickly slashing him. The pony fell without another movement or sound.

A loud crack rang out through the casino; Herkel was opening up on something. No more ponies awaited Ricky, so he took the chance to scramble to the next corner.

Guderian’s chatter stopped; he had to be out by this point. In response, two ponies stood up, both wielding crossbows.

Herkel shot. One of the ponies dropped like a stone as the sound echoed off the walls. Ricky sighed the second one in and fired as well. The other pony also went down, but not before Ricky spotted a new red hold the size of a nickel through the bottom of the pony’s neck, easily punching through the golden armor he was wearing. ‘Wait, the others weren’t wearing armor,’ Ricky realized. ‘Either we caught ‘em really off guard, or we’ve been killing… militia?’ The thought of killing what were technically civilians struck a chord inside Ricky. ‘No, no way. Ponies don’t fight wars. They wouldn’t have militia.’ Having reassured himself, Ricky confidently strode into the staircase opposite the one they’d come up in the first place.

No ponies fired at them, so Ricky assumed no ponies were left. First, he had to pick his way across the scene of the grenade. He looked up at the walls. Not that that helped, the walls were just as covered in blood and body parts as the floor. Quickly, he made his way to the stairs and began climbing.

Nothing greeted him at the top. “I think we’re clear! I’m going to check the doors real fast,” Ricky called down to his men. Having let his men know, Ricky turned to the first door. ‘Must be hotel rooms,’ he thought. He jiggled the first doorknob. It was unlocked. ‘Doesn’t make much sense if they don’t have hands,’ Ricky thought, perplexed.

Opening the door quietly, Ricky walked in, rifle ready. He was currently in a small hall that opened up to the main room. He peeked around the wall, only to find the room empty.

Ricky strode back out, headed for the second door. This time, no caution. Ricky simply opened the door and walked right in.

Two ponies were sitting next to the bed, one with a crossbow already aimed at the door. He fired, the string twanging. The bolt struck Ricky’s shirt, pinning him up against the wall. “Fuck!” Ricky tried to shoot from the hip, but the other pony charged him with spear in hoof. He quickly knocked the .22 loose from Ricky’s hand. It clattered to the floor.

“Oh shit.” Ricky audibly gulped. Slowly, he put his hands up. “I surrender!”

The two eyed him. “Trust him?” The one without armor had spoken, his coat a butter yellow.

The other one, armor loosely strapped, the one who had the crossbow, nodded slowly. “Maybe we can get something for him, free passage or something like that.”

“I don’t think so. These humans are wily bastards. You’ve heard the stories.”

“What stories?”

“Quiet!” The yellow pony shoved the spear point a few inches from Ricky’s face. “Else I’ll shut you up for the last few seconds of your life,” he threatened to drive the point home.

“We don’t want him to call his buddies over, or worse, get free,” the armored one mused out loud.

“That’s what I’m saying! So we shove a spear in him and leave it at that!” Ricky didn’t take to the yellow one’s urging to kill him.

“You’re right. Do it.” The yellow one nodded to his companion, before leveling the spear with Ricky’s throat.

He thrusted, but Ricky reacted quickly, jerking his head to the side. The spear thudded into the wooden wall.

“Stop moving, you filthy human! Make it quick on yourself,” the pony roared as he pulled the spear out, before grabbing Ricky by the jugular and holding him to the wall. Quickly, he aimed again. Ricky struggled, but the pony held firm. ‘Oh shit oh shit I’m about to die. Actually die, I don’t want to die!’ Ricky felt the icy grip of panic seize him as he closed his eyes.

A horrific rattle interrupted the silence. ‘I’m… not dead?’ Tentatively, Ricky opened an eye.

Guderian was standing in front of him. “Ricky?” He slaughtered the name, but Ricky gave him a thumbs-up anyways. Guderian breathed a heavy sigh, before reaching over and pulling out the crossbow bolt for Ricky, freeing him from the wall.

Ricky looked around. Both of the ponies that had been threatening him not two seconds ago lay in crumpled heaps. The armored one, in his death agony, had been forced by a stream of bullets all the way across the room, falling onto the bed, sheets stained with a spreading pool of blood. The yellow one was on the ground, also bleeding profusely, also dead. “Danke, Guderian.”

The machine gunner just nodded. ‘I don’t want to be in this room any longer,’ Ricky thought as he squeezed by Guderian and back out into the main casino floor.

Herkel was waiting for him, wild-eyed. “You OK?” He asked with his less-than-perfect English.

Ricky nodded. “Need a minute.”

“Ok,” Herkel nodded, before walking in to check on Guderian.

Ricky quietly sat down at one of the slot machines’ stools.

Time passed. Most of the others had already moved on to secure the rest of the building, but Ricky never heard a big commotion. 'Must be clear,' he guessed.

Eventually, another German came tramping up the stairs. He noticed Ricky, saluting as the teen rose to greet him. "Soldier?"

"Commander. We've got the entire eastern half of town under our control. Most of the pony resistance remaining has pulled back to what we're assuming is the town hall, and they're putting up a ferocious defense. They're holding up the advance too much, and we need you to inspire the men. Right now they're cowering in fear, but with you they'd march in damn parade to the doors."

Ricky nodded. "Alright, I'll bring my team. How'd you learn that much English, if you mind?"

"I was part of the Grossdeutschland, as you know. I had to fight against Americans. Eventually I was captured. I had to learn. Eventually I became an under-guard translator for the Americans, in exchange for not being locked up in a POW camp."

“Interesting story, soldier. But there’ll be time for war stories later. Right now, we’ve gotta win this fight.” The German nodded, and Ricky turned around, intent on gathering his troops.

“Holy shit, you weren’t kidding!” Ricky had to yell over the cacophony of fire from both sides.

Thankfully, the endless combat had exhausted the unicorns to the point where only a expertly aimed crossbow bolt could really do any damage, as there was no magic to whizz through the night air.

The town hall itself was a giant brick building, surrounded by four intersections. Anyone who wanted to reach it had to run in full view without cover, and the ponies knew this. They’d barricaded the windows and doors with filing cabinets, desks, and chairs.

‘Damn fortress, and we’ve gotta go get it.’ Ricky turned to Decius, who was crouched with him behind a wall. “Any progress?”

Decius shook his head. “We tried testudo, but the ponies simply held fire until they saw the others trying to follow up, and drove them back. Only good thing is their ammo has to be low now.”

“I’m waiting on our resident sniper Herkel and the others to get to the highest point in the city. They'll, with any luck, cover us from ponies as we get to the door. Then I have a plan."

Decius nodded. "So we wait."

Wait everyone did, with only the occasional bullet to keep the ponies on edge. No longer were they shooting out of the windows. 'Saving ammo,' Ricky guessed.

The silence was suddenly broken by a distant snap. One of the ponies with his head out of a window exploded into a red mess.

"That's the signal. Alright boys, let's go! Romans in testudo, everyone else spread out and run!" Everyone sprang up from cover and made for the open doors.

The ponies, on some command, all rose from their hiding as well and released a volley into the small group already outside. Two were felled instantly, another four went down screaming. The rest scraped and clattered on the asphalt street like some deranged chorus.

The infantry quickly spread further and became more aware, trying to dodge bolts. The Romans followed at a slower pace, but in a defensive testudo. Nothing made it through the wall of red shields that protected the legionnaires.

Ricky went in after the Romans, alongside Decius. Luckily, all the ponies were already engaged with targets, and as such nothing even came near the teen as he ran up against the main door.

"Over here! Everyone stack up over here!" Most of the infantry heeded the command, adjusting their routes. One of the Americans came up first, with what Ricky wanted to see most: satchel charges. "Set that on the doors," he ordered. The soldier complied.

Ricky cupped his hands. "Ponies! Listen!"

The fire stopped.

"This is the human commander, Ricky Welfork! We've got you surrounded, and this is your last chance to surrender! If you do not throw down your arms, you will be slaughtered to the last pony! No mercy, no quarter!"

No response. 'Must be debating,' Ricky guessed.

Eventually, an answer carried itself over the sea breeze. "Come in and take us, you bucker!"

"Alright! I hope you've made your peace." Ricky nodded to the soldier. "Light it!"

The soldier pulled out a cigarette lighter and flicked it open, quickly sparking a flame. He held it to the fuse.

"Everyone run!" The assembled men scrambled along both sides of the town hall, sticking close.

The explosion rocked the town hall to its foundations. Not only the doors were gone, the entire front wall was blown apart.

The ponies hadn't been expecting that much, and most of them had been at the front when the satchel went off. A few dazed ponies slowly began to pick themselves back up, before jumping back in panic at the sight of the crumbling floor under their hooves.

"Go!" Ricky was second in line, behind the American satchel carrier. The American took point around the corner, before diving for cover under a veritable shower of bolts.

Ricky held up a fist. "Hold!" The others stopped. Ricky slowly peeked around the corner with his rifle already ready. Most of the ponies had retreated further into the town hall's maze of rooms. "Move! Secure the back and sides!"

Everyone quickly fanned out into the first floor. Two ponies tried to flee towards the back, but a rifle and a MP40 stopped that attempt.

The rest were either still hiding, or higher up on the floors. Ricky stopped at a desk on the middle of the first floor. The other commanders stopped beside him.

"Any other main points or resistance?"

MacArthur nodded. "Yeah. I dispatched some men to capture the western chokepoints, including what seems to indeed be a factory of some sort."

"Alright. Sounds like we've got this one, guys!"

"Don't get too cocky, sir." Karl wagged a finger. "Overconfidence is a vice."

"Don't worry. If this is one of the last points of resistance, then it's only a matter of time." The others didn't seem to buy Ricky's assurance, but no one said anything.

As the soldiers began to secure the entrances and the first forays trudged up to the next floor, Ricky sat down on top of the desk, surrounded by rubble and men clutching guns.

"I'm so tired, I could sleep right now..." Ricky yawned to punctuate his point.

"Well, I don't think we can afford a snooze right now, kid," MacArthur pointed out.

"I didn't say I would, I said I wanted to," Ricky retorted. And sleep he did want to. Stress and tension from constant anticipation and staying up all night was fraying Ricky's nerves to the tips.

"As much as you'd want to, we can't right now. But we'll see what we can do once we have this area on lock, okay?"

Ricky nodded gratefully to Karl, who had suggested the idea. "Thanks, Karl. But you're right. If anyone needs me, I'll be ready."

And with that, the conversation between the leading commanders ended. Each of them now received their own messengers, with updates on their own unit positions.

Nobody had any earth-shattering messages for the commander himself, however, and so Ricky merely listened to the occasional potshot from above, as the ponies desperately attempted to keep the human soldiers back.

Eventually, the gunfire halted. Soon, the fireteams trudged back down the steps to the first floor, nudging ponies in front of their guns. 'Well, guess my 'no quarter' demand didn't pan out,' Ricky mentally chuckled.

After a long time, an American messenger finally walked past the commanders, and up to Ricky himself. "Sir," he gave a customary salute.

"Yes?"

"We've captured all main strongpoints now in western Las Pegasus. By now, they've probably cleaned up all resistance. We've won, sir."

"Damn straight we have! We've won, boys! Let's go celebrate!" A resounding cheer bounced off the walls, as the men celebrated a victory well won.

And with a final yell, Ricky and all the others went on the hunt for the nearest bar counter, drinking in celebration of the victory at Las Pegasus.

Author's Note:

Finally! Enjoy!

Comments

[Starlight Nova]

Why did you change the synopsis?

[DontTreadOnMe777777]

6468471 What synopsis?

[Simple]

I wonder when something is gonna go wrong...

[DontTreadOnMe777777]

6472797 Fairly soon...

[DontTreadOnMe777777]

6488528

[DontTreadOnMe777777]

6535813 We'll see...