Preston Marlowe Goes to Equestria

by Bill the Storyteller

Chapter 2 - Canterlot

Author's Note:

Hey everyone,

This isn't a new chapter. Rather, it is a minor rewrite and reupload of Chapter 2. Why am I reuploading Chapter 2, you might ask? If you've read my previous blog post, I've made the decision to get rid of Nikolai from the start, as I realized he would serve no long term purpose for the story. As much as it hurts me to do so, I think it was the right thing to do. After all, this story isn't called 'Preston Marlowe Goes to Equestria' for a reason.

So, there you have it. I've "killed" Nikolai for the sake of advancing the storyline. Whatever happens here on out, I hope you'll stick around until the story comes to a conclusion, whenever that may be.

EDIT (02/07/2022): Changed Preston's home state from Pennsylvania to Montana.

EDIT (07/08/2023): Edit to Celestia's dialogue about how long it would take to find a spell to send Preston home, as well as changing Preston's year of service with the military to seven years.

EDIT (30/09/2023): Changed Preston's year of service with the military to nine years. I originally intended him to be around 25 years old, but felt that was a little too young. In this story, Preston is around 27 years old, which means he joined the military at 18 years of age. I figured this is more appropriate. Further details about his age and military service will be revealed in later chapters.

[Elsewhere...]

Small rays of light blinded my sight as I came to my senses. Once my eyes adjusted to the light, I sat myself up on the bed I found myself laying in and examined the room I was in. All around were rows of beds with small desks in between them. There were also a couple of large windows in between a few beds, letting light into the room.

“Looks like I'm in some kind of infirmary...”

I got up from my bed. My weapons and equipment were gone, and all I had was my uniform. What exactly happened? Oh right, I got teleported to a world full of talking horses. That's what. All because of this little pocket watch I found on the battlefield.

I dug around my pockets to find the watch, but all of them turned out empty. Guess they confiscated it as well. Hard to believe that little antique was responsible for sending me here. The question is, how? But more importantly, where am I?

I decided to have a look around the infirmary. The beds were all empty, and there were no doctors or nurses on duty. Near the exit, there was a medicine cabinet and a desk with a large mirror in front of it. Upon inspecting myself in the mirror, I made an unbelievable discovery. The cuts on my face, the ones caused by the RPG shrapnel, had miraculously healed up! The stitches and bandages were also gone as well. It was as though I was never even wounded in the first place.

I gently brushed the left side of my face, still unable to process how it was that the scars were gone. Scars like that take years to fade, or never at all. At any rate, thinking about it won't get me anywhere. I needed to find out where I was and who's in charge around here. Guess I'll just leave without the need of a doctor to sign me out.

I was about to step out of the infirmary when the door opened by itself, and standing before me was a tan-colored mare dressed in a nurse's uniform. She was looking away from the door, focusing on the bundle of fresh bed sheets she held in her hooves. When she finally turned around, her eyes widened and her jaw dropped when she saw me standing in front of her. Can't say I blame her. It's not everyday you see a giant alien monkey standing before you.

We both stood there, eyeing each other, not knowing what to say for the longest time. It was then that I finally spoke.

“Um, hello?”

The nurse dropped the bed sheets and slammed the door shut. I heard the door being locked on the other side, to which I immediately tried to force the door open. “Hey, wait a minute! I'm not here to hurt you! I just want to know where I am!”

With no response on the other side, I promptly gave up and started pacing around the room. My mind was racing constantly. Where did that nurse run off to? Is she getting security or something? What's going to happen to me? I wish I had a gun on me right now. Not that I don't trust these ponies, but I would feel a whole lot safer with a gun in my hands. Still, if I end up dead, I guess dying in a world of talking horses isn't the worst way to go.

After a few minutes of waiting around, I heard the door behind me unlock. I turned around and saw a pony who was tall as an adult horse with wings and a horn. A crossbreed of the species that Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo were, perhaps? She, for her figure was that of a mare, had a very animated multi-colored mane and tail, and wore a crown over her head. Guess she was the big shot around here. She was surrounded by a few guard ponies dressed in armor similar to that of the Roman praetorian guards. All of them wore an emotionless expression and were armed with spears. At the sight of their weapons, I stood up tall, not letting my guard down.

The taller pony looked at me for a moment, sizing me up, before smiling warmly. She spoke to me in a tone that was authoritative, but motherly at the same time. “Well, I'm glad to see that you're awake, Preston Marlowe. Yes, I know who you are. Apple Bloom and her friends told me everything. What you did last night was very brave. Risking your own life to save those children while fighting a chimera by yourself.” She bowed her head. “Thank you for protecting my ponies.”

I raised a brow towards her. “And you are?”

She laughed. “Oh, where are my manners? I am Princess Celestia, ruler of Equestria.”

“And where exactly are we, Princess Celestia?”

“We're in the castle infirmary at Canterlot,” she said. “You've been out for hours since your transportation to Canterlot, and I've been waiting to speak with you once you've regained consciousness. I was told by the girls that you were brought here under 'usual' circumstances and I want to know more about your story.”

I crossed my arms. “That's right. And if I tell you everything, can you help send me back home? To my world?”

Celestia shrugged. “That depends. But first, let's make you feel a little more welcome. You must be feeling hungry right now. Would you like something to eat?”

At that moment, I felt my stomach beginning to growl. “I guess it wouldn't hurt to grab a bite.” Princess Celestia nodded, and motioned for her guards. The guards moved the desk towards the center of the infirmary, along with two chairs. Celestia sat down on one of the chairs and motioned for me to sit. One of the guards then laid out two bowls of oatmeal and a tea set on the table. With their tasks completed, the guards bowed their heads and left the room, giving us privacy.

Celestia poured herself a cup of tea while I stared at my bowl of porridge. It looks normal and smells alright, but is it safe to eat? I took a spoonful of the oatmeal, tasting oats and sugary sweetness to it. Tastes like normal oatmeal, which is fine by me. As I ate, a teacup suddenly hovered right in front of me, as Celestia poured a cup of tea.

“Cream and sugar?” she asked, levitating a small pitcher of cream and two sugar cubes.

I blinked. “How are you doing that?”

“Do you not have magic from where you’ve come from?” she giggled.

“In my world, magic is mostly parlor tricks, or non-existent,” I replied.

“All unicorns have the ability to use magic and cast spells,” Celestia explained. “I am an alicorn, a species that shares the wings of a pegasus and the horn of a unicorn, but I can still cast spells like a unicorn. Right now, I'm using my magic to help serve you a cup of tea. Now, cream and sugar?”

I wasn't a big fan of tea, but I decided to accept her offer. If the ruler of a kingdom offers you tea, you should probably accept it. “Uh, sure, I guess.”

She poured a bit of cream and added the sugar cubes to my tea, giving it a bit of a stir. Once I finished my oatmeal, I took careful sips of the hot tea, being careful not to burn my lips and tongue, blowing on the hot liquid to cool it down quickly. The tea was a little bitter, with a little bit of sweetness from the cream and sugar, but other than that, this was some damn fine tea. After minutes of eating and drinking, Celestia went straight to the questioning.

“Well, that was a nice breakfast, if I'd say so myself,” she said, wiping her mouth with a handkerchief. “Did you find everything satisfying?”

I nodded. “When I first arrived here, I'd half expected you ponies to eat stuff like grass or hay, but I guess it's not like that around here. As for the meal, it was alright. In fact, this is much nicer than the grub they serve at the canteen.”

“I'm glad to hear that,” Celestia smiled. “I wasn't sure what it is that you creatures eat, so I had the chef prepare you some oatmeal. Speaking of which, what is it that humans like yourself eat?”

A simple, yet difficult question to answer in front of a princess who rules a land full of sentient ponies. Knowing that ponies were primarily herbivores, my response could end up painting me as some flesh-eating monster to them. I had to approach this carefully with her. “Well...biologically, I would say that I'm primarily a herbivore. But as a species, we do tend to eat meat...which makes me and a majority of mankind omnivores.” I rushed to finish my sentence, worried that I might accidentally give Celestia a heart attack. “BUT that doesn't mean I have to eat meat. I just need a source of protein, that's all. I can substitute meat for soy and legumes, and I can live off on fruits, vegetables, and grain. So, if you can get me that sort of food, I'll be fine. However, if you're cool with me eating seafood, that would benefit me nutritionally.”

Celestia nodded. “I see. There are some creatures in this world that do eat meat as part of their diet, like the griffons from the east. Perhaps for your future meals, I could talk to the chef about throwing in some sausage or fish for your meal.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment there, I thought telling the princess that I was also a meat-eater would get me tossed in the dungeon. Or worse, executed on the spot. “I think that'd be a great idea. Again, I hope that this doesn't bother or offend you.”

“Not at all,” Celestia replied. “Whenever the emissaries from Griffonstone visit Canterlot, I make sure that they're served meat dishes. As ruler of Equestria, I have to make our guests feel welcomed at the castle.”

I cleared my throat. “Well, speaking of 'feeling welcomed', while I do appreciate the hospitality, I thought we had some questions to answer.”

“You're right, of course,” she nodded, setting aside her tea. “While I should be saving most of the questions for Twilight, I do like to ask you a few questions. To start off, where are you originally from?”

“Didn't the girls help answer some of your questions for me?” I asked.

“They did, but you know how children can over-exaggerate stories sometimes,” she said. “I just like to hear it in your own words.”

“Fair enough,” I nodded. “Then allow me to start from the beginning. I'm from the United States of America, a country on planet Earth. I understand that this planet here is also called Earth, but perhaps your Earth is different from mine.”

“I've never heard of this 'United States of America', but it does sound like an interesting place,” she admitted. “Tell me, why is it called the 'United States of America'?”

“Because there’s fifty states in America, and all of them united as one nation. I'm from the state of Montana, in case you're wondering.”

“Amazing,” she whispered. “Fifty states united into a single nation? Your people must have a strong sense of unity.”

I chuckled, taking another sip of my tea. “You have no idea. Democracy, freedom, the Second Amendment, apple pie, etcetera. With so many rights and freedoms in America, you can believe that we Americans will stand united to defend our very way of life.”

“Which brings me to my next question,” Celestia continued. “If this America is what you say it is, then what is it that brought you here – to Equestria?”

“It's a mystery,” I said. “I'm not so sure what happened. I was in a battle when I got wounded trying to cover my squad. I thought I was done for, then I saw this glowing pocket watch from out of nowhere. I touched it, and the next thing I know, I wound up here.”

“A battle? You're a soldier?”

“Well, yeah, in case the uniform didn't give it away,” I muttered. “I'm a private in the United States Army. Been in the army for about nine years now. In two months time, I'll have been in the army for about a decade.”

“So, back where you're from, you're fighting a war?”

“That's right,” I nodded. “America is currently at war with another country called Russia. I'm not going to bore you with the details, but long story short, the reason we're at war with them is because Russia's planning to take over the entire world and they're threatening our democracy as well. We Americans who value freedom more than anything else, don't stand idly by that, so we fought them back with the help of other allies that support democracy.”

Celestia frowned. “So, assuming that humans are the dominant species in your world, you're fighting against other humans? Killing your own kind?”

“Hey, don't chastise me with any of your political bullshit. I'm just a grunt doing my job.” I crossed my arms. “And besides, I have every good reason to wanna fight the Russians.”

“I'm not judging you,” she replied calmly. “I'm just surprised that you would go to war with your own species, even if you have a legitimate reason.”

“Humans have been fighting since the age of dinosaurs. No matter how hard we try to co-exist, there always seems to be a reason for us to fight one another. We had wars over land, resources, independence, slavery...you name it. We also had two world wars, and even after all the death and carnage, life went on as usual.”

Celestia shook her head. “That's sad.”

“Don't worry about it. It's just how it is,” I said. “Anyways, I assume you wanted to know more about what brought me here?”

“Ah, yes,” she said, levitating the pocket watch onto the table. “How a single pocket watch somehow brought you to our world. Before we get to that, I just want to confirm something, where did you get this watch?”

“What do you mean?”

“This watch...it was an old family heirloom given by one of my aunts a long time ago,” she explained, gently brushing a hoof over the engravings. “It went missing about ten years ago, yet you have it in your possession? How very strange.”

“I had a feeling that this watch might have something to do with this world, but are you implying that I somehow stole it?”

“No, not at all,” she shook her head. “I'm just surprised to see it again. More surprised when the girls told me that you were brought here because of this watch.”

“Do you know why it brought me here? And how?”

“My guess is that there was some form of teleportation spell casted on this watch,” Celestia hypothesized. “When we examined your belongings and found this watch, I detected some small hint of magic on it. Most of the magical residue has faded away, but once I'm able to find out what spell this was and who casted it, perhaps we might be able to find a way home for you.”

“How long will it take?”

“A week, maybe two? It’s hard to say, but if it’s a complicated spell, then you’ll probably have to wait for more than a month until I can find the right spell to send you home.”

I sighed. “If that's what it takes, I guess I can wait.”

“Then I guess we have no reason to keep you in the infirmary any longer.” She stood up from her chair. “How about we relocate you to somewhere more comfortable than a hospital bed?”

I shrugged. “Couldn't hurt.”

With that, we were escorted out of the infirmary and moved further down the castle halls. I hadn't really got a chance to look around the castle, but then again, I wasn't interested in gawking at any paintings. After a climb up a flight of stairs, we stopped at a room with a large door. Celestia opened the door and I was greeted by the sight of a fresh and tidy room.

“This is one of the castle's guest rooms,” she said. “You'll be staying here for now, until we've decided what to do with you next.”

I took a whiff of the room. “The room's not bad, but am I under house arrest or something?”

“Not exactly,” she replied. “You'll only be kept here for a short period. It's for your own safety, that's all.” We entered the room, Celestia giving me a short tour. “We weren't able to find a bed that would fit your size, so we improvised by putting together four beds. Hopefully it should be comfortable enough. There are also some snacks and water on the table, and there's a bathroom in the next room with some toiletries for your convenience. Any questions?”

“Yeah, one I've been meaning to ask since I woke up: where are my weapons?” I asked.

“They're currently being examined by the Canterlot science team for research. A good thing too. I know you seem like the type who would keep his weapons secure, but for everypony's safety, I think it's best that we hold on to them for now. Don't worry, though, you'll get everything back soon enough.”

“I'd prefer if you'd at least let me keep my pistol, but alright,” I muttered. “Your eggheads better not break anything.”

“I can assure you, your belongings will be handled with utmost care,” she smiled. “In the meantime, try and relax. If you need anything just ask one of my guards.”

With that, Princess Celestia left me alone in the guest room. Not knowing what to do first, I decided to take a shower. Considering all I've been through yesterday, I think I've earned it. After a quick, but soothing hot shower, I flopped down onto the bed that was put together for me. It may be four beds combined, but it was comfortable enough. Even though I had just woken up and had breakfast, I had fallen asleep almost instantly the minute I settled in. For now, I'm not even going to worry about what's going to happen to me while I'm here. Talking ponies or not, Sarge ain't going to reprimand me for sleeping on the job.

******

[1800 Romeo Time.]

[Somewhere in Toronto...]

After a day of tense fighting, Toronto was finally liberated by the efforts of the American and Canadian armies. With many strategic pointes retaken, the Russians were cut off from any supplies and reinforcements, and were forced to retreat further northwest, abandoning Ontario to the allies.

Now taking the time to rest before the next battle, Sarge, Haggard, and Sweetwater gathered at a pub in Toronto to celebrate their victory with some of the soldiers. Among them were the men of Task Force Kodiak, who had promised those beers they owed them. Sergeant Tobias stood up from his seat and raised his glass to the men of Bad Company.

“Alright guys,” he began. “Let's raise a glass to Sergeant Redford, and Privates Sweetwater and Haggard of the 222^nd: the men who make the impossible possible. To you!”

“Cheers!”

“Hear! Hear!”

All the soldiers raised their glasses in the air, before taking a good, long swig. Setting their glasses down, Tobias continued his speech.

“Hell, if it weren't for you guys, my whole crew would've been dead yesterday. You guys deserve a medal.” He then turned to the waiter on duty. “Or at the very least, more beers. Waiter! Bring a couple of more pitchers over here! And some burgers as well!”

“Aw shucks, you didn't have to do that, sir,” Sweetwater said bashfully.

Tobias once again raised his glass. “To your health!”

Another round of raised glass and swigs followed. Tobias set down his glass again and all of a sudden, the cheerful atmosphere in the pub turned solemn.

“Sadly though, these fine gentlemen did not save us without losing one of their own: Private Preston Marlowe. He gave his life so that we may fight another day. May his courage and determination be a shining example to us all.” He raised his glass once more, but instead of making a cheerful declaration, it was one out of respect. “To Marlowe.”

Everyone raised their glasses in solemn respect. “To Marlowe.”

And with that, the celebration kicked off. More rounds of beer and food were delivered to tables as music filled the pub. Soldiers all around were chatting with each other, boasting about today's victory and on how many Russians they've killed. Some Toronto locals even stopped by to thank the soldiers for liberating their city, as well as to enjoy a nice meal at the pub. Bad Company ate in silence, occasionally talking about things like NASCAR and Super Bowl Sundays. As they ate and drank, a familiar individual approached their table.

“Sorry to interrupt, but do you have room for another at this table?”

Realizing who it was, the squad stood up at attention, dusting off any crumbs from their uniforms before saluting. “General Braidwood, sir!”

“At ease, gentlemen,” he waved. “I just happened to be in the neighborhood and was feeling a little parched, so I decided to stop by at the nearest pub to wet my whistle. Don't suppose you mind if I sit here and have a beer or two?”

Sarge shook his head. “No, sir...we don't mind at all.” He quickly turned to Sweetwater. “Sweets, don't just stand there like a buffoon! Pull up a seat for the General!”

Sweetwater immediately pulled up an empty chair and placed it in between his and Sarge's. The General sat down and immediately ordered himself a drink. Bad Company continued to eat and drink in silence, not sure on what to say. It was then Sarge broke the silence.

“General Braidwood... is there something you want to talk to us about?” asked Sarge. “I have a feeling you aren't just here to enjoy a beer.”

“You aren't wrong about that,” Braidwood replied. “I'm actually here to give you some news; news that may peak your interest. Want to hear it?”

“I'll bite,” Haggard said, setting down his glass. “What have you got for us, sir?”

“First and foremost, I'm officially here to inform you that today, the 222^nd Army Battalion has been disbanded, and that the three of you have been honorably discharged from the military.”

The squad stared at Braidwood in disbelief. Were they hearing this right? Did a four-star army general just tell them that they can go home? Sweetwater raised his hand. “Um sir, I didn't really get what you just said. Did you just say that we've been disbanded and discharged from the military? That we can go home?”

Braidwood gave a small smile. “I did say that, didn't I?”

“But why, sir?”

“Word's out about what you guys did back in Hamilton yesterday,” he explained. “Congress wants you guys out of the conflict and to return home, have a parade around Washington DC, boost morale back home and encourage support for the war effort, that sort of thing. Now that we're winning the war, I think it was high time that the 222^nd finally retired.”

Hearing the news that they could go home earlier, the squad felt an overwhelming sense of relief. Finally, they can retire and do all the things they've wanted to do! However, they stopped short, realizing that there was a catch to all of this somehow. Haggard was the first to point it out.

“While this all sounds mighty fine, I feel like there's a catch to all of this,” said Haggard. “After all, this doesn't feel like the only news you have for us.”

“You're a sharp one, private,” Braidwood grinned. “While it's official that you're no longer part of the military, I still think it'd be a waste to send you all back home early, when you can still do more for us. And I have a fairly good reason for wanting you boys to stick around longer.”

“And what might that reason be, sir?”

General Braidwood straightened up, looking all official, before delivering the news. “We have every reason to believe that Preston Marlowe is still alive.”

The whole squad went wide eyed with mouths agape. Sarge looked right back at Braidwood, with an “are you serious” kind of look. “Our guy is still alive?”

“Sir, the last time I checked, Marlowe's dead as of yesterday,” Haggard added. “No way anyone could've survived all those explosions.”

“That's what you all think, but I believe that he's still alive and is somewhere behind enemy lines as of now. Early this morning, I sent a detachment of Marines to identify and recover any fallen soldiers from yesterday's battle in Hamilton. They checked the remains of the APC which you've mentioned that Marlowe took cover in before his supposed demise. They found no trace of his body.”

“Well, he could've been vaporized,” Sweetwater suggested. “All those explosions can easily erase a man off the face of the earth.”

“That would be true, but even after the bombardment, the APC was still somewhat intact,” Braidwood continued. “Even if he were vaporized, there would've still been some small trace of what was left of him. Which leaves me to believe he survived out of two ways: either he made his escape before the bombardment, or he survived the bombardment and immediately fled the scene.”

“No way,” Sarge interrupted. “If you're saying that Marlowe deserted, then you're wrong. Despite what you've read in his record and the reasons he was transferred to B-Company, I've known Marlowe long enough to know that he would never be a deserter.”

“I didn't say he deserted,” Braidwood said, raising his hands in a calming gesture. “I understand that this news is a lot to take in, but just in case you don't believe me, I have proof that shows that Marlowe may have survived yesterday's battle. Take a look at this.”

He produced his PDA and handed it to Sarge. On the PDA was a video clip waiting to be played. Sweetwater and Haggard gathered around as Sarge hit the 'PLAY' button and watched the clip unfold.

“A civilian who happened to be in the area took this film at a safe distance," Braidwood explained. "Watch closely at the opening of the APC.”

The squad watched the footage in silence. Whoever was filming the battle was pretty amateur, but they still did a good job on catching all the fighting on camera. Fast forwarding to the end, the squad came upon the moment where Preston was limping towards the abandoned APC.

“There he is.”

“Yeah, this is the moment where we last saw Marlowe...”

Back in the video, Preston ducked underneath the small opening and took cover inside. Up in the sky, the sound of fighter jets grew more audible as they closed in onto the road. In the last few seconds of the video, the camera caught some kind of activity going on in the APC before a blinding explosion obstructed the view. The squad could hear the cameraman cursing and dropping the camera as the whole film came to an abrupt end.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sweetwater said suddenly. “Go back a bit...right before the explosion. Did you see that?”

Sarge rewinds the footage back to the moment before the explosion. Slowing down the speed of the video, they were able to see a flash of purple light coming from the opening. It was seen for only half a second before the first bomb went off.

“I'm guessing you gentlemen saw that light back there?” Braidwood asked. “Guess I wasn't seeing things after all.”

“It could've been a gunshot,” Sarge rationalized, though there was a hint of doubt in his voice. “Marlowe must've realized there was no way he was getting out alive, so he took the easy way out.”

“Nah, no way,” Haggard shook his head. “You said it yourself that Marlowe was no deserter. If that's the case, then there's no chance in hell he'd off himself so easily.”

“But even so, there's no way he would've survived the bombs. Let alone outrun the bombers,” Sweetwater added.

The men were stumped, unsure of how to take in this news. For all they knew, this was a trick to try and get them to stay in the conflict a little while longer, but at the same time, there was that nagging possibility that their comrade-in-arm was still alive. Sarge turned to Braidwood, and asked, “If Marlowe is alive, why are you telling us this now when you've already told us that we've been disbanded?”

Braidwood took back his PDA and pulled up a map of Canada, showing three red dots marking locations that were of high importance. One dot was located further northwest in Ontario, somewhere outside Sioux Lookout. Another dot was marked somewhere in central Manitoba, and the last one was placed somewhere near lower Nunavut.

Handing back the PDA, Braidwood explained the situation. “Those are the locations of major prisoner or war camps the Russians have set up since the early occupation of Canada. These camps hold both Canadian and US military personnel, as well as some Canadian resistance fighters and a few important figures. As you may have heard, the Russians are losing the war again. Sooner or later, they'll come to realize that they're not going to win this war, and they'll begin the process of starting peace talks with us. But as you all know, the Russians like to play dirty.

“Intelligence operatives have gathered that they're going to transport all POWs to Alaska, where they'll be shipped back to Russia and be held at labor camps there. The Russians want to use them as leverage in the eventual peace talks, play things their way. Problem is, Uncle Sam is not looking to play their dirty game. If we can liberate those camps, they'll have squat for leverage at the peace talks.”

“And let me guess, Marlowe might be held at one of those camps?” Sarge asked.

“Some of our troops were scattered during the battle of Hamilton yesterday and were taken prisoner. They're probably being transferred to one of the camps as we speak, which may or may not include your guy.” Braidwood finished off his beer in a quick gulp, setting down the empty glass. “Listen, you may not be part of the military anymore, but I'd like you to help me with this one last task. I'd ask another unit, hell, maybe send a few Delta operators to take this assignment, but I don't think there are any better soldiers than you three that can handle this operation. If you do this for me, I'll put in a good word for you guys and have the government offer you and your families enough money and benefits to last a generation. It's your call.”

Haggard looked over to Sarge. “Sarge, if you wanna head on home and go on that fishing trip of yours, go right ahead. You've been wanting to retire for a long while, so now's a good time as any. Sweets and I can go look for Marlowe by ourselves. We'll take it from here.”

Sarge shook his head. “And make me look bad by letting you boys run amok? Absolutely not. Someone has to keep you bastards in line, and I guess it'll have to be me.”

Braidwood smiled. “Then I guess it's settled. I'll inform Washington that you boys will be staying in the fight for a little while longer. Your first target to liberate will be the camp outside Sioux Lookout. You'll be departing with the 1^st Armored Cavalry tomorrow morning. Good luck, and godspeed, gentlemen.” Before he left, he pulled out some cash from his pocket, setting it down on their table. “Oh, drinks and steaks are on me tonight.”

Once Braidwood was out of sight, Sweetwater asked, “What...what just happened?”

Sarge sighed, taking another sip of his beer. “My retirement got delayed. Again.”

Haggard looked at Sarge, and asked, “You think Braidwood was right, though? About Marlowe being alive?”

“How the fuck should I know? For all we know, he probably lied about Marlowe and is getting us involved in a wild goose chase,” Sarge set down his glass and pulled out a cigar, lighting it up and taking a puff out of it. “Played us all like damn fiddles.”

As they sat there, slowly regretting their decision, Tobias stepped forward to their table, taking Braidwood's seat. “I overheard your conversation with the General earlier. Sounds like your guy is still alive.”

“It's just a possibility,” Sweetwater replied. “For all we know, Marlowe's already dead, and Braidwood's probably sending us to an early grave.”

“Why do you think he'd do that?” Tobias asked.

“Probably to get rid of us,” Sarge answered. “Men like us aren't meant to live out the rest of our lives in peace.”

Tobias shrugged. “In any case, we've got orders to assist you in liberating the camps. If your guy is still alive and he's being held at one of those camps, my men and I will do everything to help you get him and the rest of our boys freed.” He placed a hand on Redford's shoulder, and said, “You don't have to do this alone. Just give us a holler, and we'll be there.”

Redford gave a small nod. “Many thanks. You're a good man.”

“I'm going to join back with the rest of my crew. In the meantime, you guys enjoy the rest of the night and get some sleep. We've got more battles ahead of us, as well as people to save.”

With Tobias gone, Bad Company slowly finished their food and drink, before looking at each other with renewed confidence.

“So, we're going to do this or what?”

Haggard grinned. “Count us in, Sarge. Let's go find Marlowe and bring him home.”

Comments

[OP Omni God-Emperor Doom]

“They're currently being examined by the Canterlot science team for research. A good thing too. I know you seem like the type who would keep his weapons secure, but for everypony's safety, I think it's best that we hold on to them for now. Don't worry, though, you'll get everything back soon enough.”

Bad idea!!!!!! Unless you want to KEEP your pacifist/peaceful lives intact.