• Published 19th Nov 2016
  • 6,222 Views, 1,704 Comments

This War of Ours - JDPrime22



Two sides of good clashing together, fighting for what they believe is right, breaking partnerships and ending friendships… human and pony alike.

  • ...
9
 1,704
 6,222

PreviousChapters Next
Chapter 9 - Crossed

Washington, D.C.

South Lawn of the White House

12:12 p.m.



Twilight Sparkle watched on in utter horror as the flaming wreckage crashed right into the crowd, spewing metal and flame onto screaming civilians. The helicopter’s blades tore right through the cheap, metal seats, spewing dirt to and fro, and slicing a few unlucky innocents into nothing but red mist.

Their screams now muffled, new screams carrying across the lawn, Twilight finally shifted her eyes forward to the three ships.

And watched as another missile shot right towards her.

She almost didn’t allow herself to prepare for the onslaught. The shock and awe of it all had slowed her perception of reality, lowered her instincts, and nearly cost her everything. Just as the missile was about to hit the podium, right before she began to charge up her horn, a shield of red flew across the stage, an eruption following as the missile collided with it.

The missile’s collision still created an array of orange and yellow bursts of fire to spew outwards. The crowd flinched back, crying as the flames hit them, others trying desperately to still escape, trampling over others. As the smoke cleared and Princess Twilight could finally see the aftermath, there standing directly ahead of the stage was Wanda.

Her jaw remained clenched, holding the shield, fingers outstretched. She shot her wild, red eyes to the stage, then quickly back. “Vision!” she shouted. “Get the president out of here!”

Vision replied without question, flying over to the stage and landing directly in front of President Ellis and his service men. The Secret Service reached for their pistols, President Ellis holding his hand out to them.

“Hold your fire!” Ellis ordered, the men doing just that. With them remaining still, Ellis turned to Vision.

The android said, “Mr. President, it would be in your best interest if you came with me. I can guarantee your safety.”

“Understood,” Ellis replied almost instantly, nodding to the Avenger. Normally he would allow his service men to get him to safety, but considering Stark and Rhodes both got him out of danger before, being under the protection of an Avenger seemed more assuring.

Besides, he believed the Secret Service would need as much backup as possible.

“Agent Adams, I want you and your men to take out those choppers any way you can!” President Ellis ordered, Adams nodding and waving the others with him. The four men hopped off the stage, pulled out their pistols, and started firing into the air.

Vision stepped forward and grabbed the president by the shoulder. Ellis shouted, “Call backup! I want police surrounding the South Lawn now!”

“Are you ready?” Vision asked.

“Yes, now where are you—?”

The president never got to finish. Vision flew off the stage with Ellis in his grip, the android flying straight for the White House and out of the combat zone. Wanda watched as both Vision and President Ellis vanished, easing her fear, assuring her of the president’s safety. She scanned the stage, seeing the remaining senators escape to safety.

All except for…

“Twilight!” Wanda cried. The Alicorn snapped out of her stupor, blinking several times before shooting her gaze over to the Witch. “Off the stage now!”

Her last words came out as a painful screech, a second missile colliding with her shield, weakening it. Darting in the direction of the shot, following the trail of smoke, her red eyes locked with the Apache helicopter. Her shield diminished after that, her hands shooting outwards towards the helicopter. Streams of red flooded from her fingers, twirling throughout the air and impaling the enemy helicopter, destroying its blades and bringing it to the earth.

Wanda cursed as she directed the helicopter out of civilian way and crashed it into the ground, soft enough to keep its occupants alive. As the Apache crashed far-off into the grass and away from civilians trying to escape the madness, arriving police cars came to a stop on the roads surrounding the South Lawn. Heavily-armored police vehicles joined them, their sirens crying out into the warzone, their occupants entering the grassy lawn armed with M4 assault rifles.

Back on the street, an officer spotted the second Apache and the Osprey still airborne. He reached for his mic on his shoulder, saying, “This is Officer Griggs of the MPD! We have enemy choppers directly over the South Lawn of the White House! Civilians are still in the area! No word on the president! Requesting immediate back—!”

“Griggs, get out of the street!”

The revving of a powerful engine caught Officer Griggs’ attention. He spun around, and never saw the car coming before he hit the hood, the windshield, and flew completely over before landing back in the street, dead.

Several more unidentified cars followed, each one heavily-armored like the police vehicles, darker, too. They tore right through the police, bullets hitting their armored hides, bouncing off like nothing. Officers leaped out of the way into the grass, cars being flipped and crashed in the street until the intruders turned.

Directly into the South Lawn.

A total of six unidentified vehicles slowed to a halt on the grassy lawn of the White House, its occupants pouring out, just as well-armed as the police officers. They dressed in black, gas masks upon their faces, hands reaching for their belts and tossing unknown projectiles towards the crowds. As the projectiles made their impact, they erupted, spewing a white fog into the scrambling bodies.

Tear gas.

The civilians, the hundreds of reporters, governors, and average attendees stumbled blindly through the growing fog, everyone reaching for their throats, so many people crying out. Some covered their eyes, nose, and mouth with their shirts, running around with their hands stretched outwards, hoping by some dim luck to reach an area they could see again, find some place they could breathe again.

And when they did, they came across the dark soldiers, and were fired upon.

Nothing could compare to the screams that followed the gun shots. Terror flooded the veins of the ones who were gunned down like animals by the dark soldiers. As more escaped the deadly fog, the dark soldiers continued to fire, wasting round after round, clip after clip on the crowds. The police instantly turned towards the screams, the officers charging onto the lawn, right for the ones shooting into the crowd.

They couldn’t, however, get through the second Apache. Streams of orange tore through the officers like they were paper, prompting their attention upwards, towards the lone Apache firing down upon them. It fired two missiles, each one colliding next to a group of three heavily-armed officers, their bodies flying in the air like ragdolls.

Back on the street, more enemy vehicles emerged, more dark soldiers spewing outwards, firing at the crowds and the officers.

We’re surrounded!” one of the officers screamed, firing madly in every direction he could before he was eventually gunned down. Officers dropped one by one until none were left on the South Lawn. The remaining MPD forces retreated to their cars, using them as cover, firing whenever they got the chance.

The volley of gunfire raged in the street and continued to do so. The massacre on the South Lawn was a different story. No one fought back against the madness. No one could. The tear gas made it impossible to see, to breathe, and a stream of bullets tore through the fog every second, making survival nearly impossible for the average human.

The Avengers were not average humans.

When no one could fight back against the hail of gunfire, they did. When no one could charge into the heart of the madness, they did. They didn’t turn from the screams, they didn’t run to safety, they bled for others’. They rushed through the fog, finally breathing again, and came across the dark soldiers head-on.

Catching them completely off-guard.

Leading them was Captain America. The first soldier cloaked in black was unfortunate enough to come across the leader of the Avengers. Rogers clotheslined the soldier, driving his fist into the mask of the one directly to his left. Right behind him was the Black Widow. She dove with her knee leading, impacting the chest cavity of a soldier with his sights on the Captain.

She ripped the man’s assault rifle away and tossed it behind her, only for it to be caught by Sam Wilson. She then reached into the man’s side holster, pried out his pistol, rammed the edge of it across his forehead, and got back up. Together, the two fired back against the unknown enemy, dropping soldiers left and right, pushing forward with innocent lives trailing behind them, still blinded by the fog.

Both James Rhodes and Wanda Maximoff followed quickly behind. Rhodes picked up an abandoned assault rifle caked in blood, firing off a few bursts, rolling, then firing again. To his far right, out of his vision, a soldier cloaked in shadow appeared, his shotgun aimed right for Rhodes. A shield of red appeared just as he fired, protecting James and deflecting the rounds.

The soldier turned his gaze left, and spotted the Witch fling her hand towards him. The shield that once protected Rhodes launched directly into the soldier’s chest, knocking him out of sight.

The Avengers pushed forward, holding off the enemy tide, fighting when no one else could.

And yet she was still there.

Whether it be the sounds of gunfire filling the screams, the massive twin-rotor airship flying right over her head, or the white fog completely blocking her line of sight—and more importantly, her friends—all Twilight had done was stand there. Watch as it all happened. The madness. The disregard for innocent life. The fires and the evil.

Everything happening right in front of her.

The massive Osprey flew directly over her head again, this time straight for the edge of the Ellipse. Twilight could barely see the ramp of the Osprey appear to fall open, a lone figure stepping forward. It flew lower and lower, possibly to land. The other helicopter continued to rain down a barrage of missiles and gunfire, impacting the ground and shaking the earth.

All she could really hear was her own breathing. That, and the distance cries for help.

Hopping off the stage, Twilight coughed rather loudly, peering through the essence of the gas. “Girls!” she coughed again and again, flapping her wings to gain a quick burst of speed. “Girls—cough, cough—Spike, where are you?!”

All around her, bodies of former lives lay in disarray. Blood coated their once prestigious uniforms, eyes wide open and staring up above, to the side, or straight into the ground. The Alicorn grimaced at the sight, the color in her face growing dangerously pale. There were others still alive, still running into or away from the fog. It was impossible to run away from it, or fly away for that matter. It was everywhere. Growing faster, building higher, and it finally reached her in full force.

The gas wasn’t so bad from where she previously scrambled. It was still bad, but at least she could manage a breath. But now, Twilight shielded her face, unknown to the gas and what it could do. Instantly, she gagged, then rose a foreleg to block the entry of the fog. It was too late. She coughed into the dirt, wheezed, breathed in more of the sickness, then coughed again.

It got to the point to where she couldn’t even see, or breathe for that matter. Now scrambling madly, wings raised to cover her mouth and nose, Twilight lit up her horn and teleported, she knew not where. Anywhere but where she was.

As she came to, her wings folded back to her sides, a collection of coughs following. Twilight hugged the grass and breathed, finally breathed. She was out of the fog, thank Celestia. Looking up, tears in her eyes, she could barely see the sight of the battle raging ahead, the Avengers fighting against whatever force had attacked them.

To her far left, she looked, and could faintly see Tony Stark stumbling forward, forearm covering his eyes. He fell to one knee and hid behind a barricade that once held back the crowds of reporters, now abandoned. Twilight opened her mouth, held her hoof out to him, and once again began to cough.

“Tony…” she wheezed. “Tony… My friends… Where…”

She had wished he had heard her. She prayed he had, but knew deep down that wasn’t the case. Her friends were still out there, lost in the fog, out fighting, hiding, doing something. And she was lying there, struggling to breathe.

She watched as Tony peeked forward, ducked back behind the cover as a burst of gunfire shot over his head. Twilight flinched at that, opening her eyes once more. Tony then turned his head skyward, to the lone gunship continuing to fire at the police officers, at the retreating crowd of civilians, and whatever seemed to move away from the gunfight.

She saw as he reached for his wrist, pulled down his sleeve, and spoke into his watch.

And he said, “Homer, you got my coordinates! Send me some help!”

It was almost a full ten seconds before he got a reply. A shimmer of light appeared in the distant glare of the noonish sun, earning Twilight’s attention. And almost as instant as that shimmer, a well-sized meteor flew down and struck the earth, crashing directly in the grass and spewing dirt in the air. To Twilight’s surprise, she watched as Stark shot out from his cover, holding his arms out wide, palms outstretched. A clear target.

At first, she didn’t know what he seemed to be doing. Then, the meteor came into focus, not being a meteor at all, but a package. A large, metal package that shot out different pieces of one set of armor. A specific set of armor, each piece flying towards the man. Twilight’s jaw fell, her desperate breaths halted.

Each piece flew out from the package, connecting to a specific portion of Stark’s body. His chest was instantly covered, followed by his head and legs. Thankfully so, a few bullets just so happened to impact his chest. His right forearm earned its piece, followed quickly by his left arm. A few connections, a working HUD, a final lock, and the Mark 46 was complete.

Its blue eyes shined to life. The Arc Reactor burned with intensity.

Watching in awestruck wonder, Twilight could see as the Apache helicopter zeroed in on Stark, its miniguns revving up. Stark turned his gaze upwards, his right forearm doing the same. A miniature missile protruded from his wrist, launching and hitting the Apache right in the driver’s seat.

The gunship erupted into flames. It reeled right, crashing and burning.

Tony lowered his forearm. Several bullets began to impact his left side, his attention turning in that direction. The South Lawn was infested with the unknown soldiers, their dark uniforms making them easy targets to spot. Bending down, Stark launched himself into the air, coming down with the bottom of his metal boot and kicking one of the soldiers right in the chest.

He rolled back, the others watching him, unprepared for the Iron Man. As he landed in front of them, the soldiers scrambled, aiming and firing wildly, pathetically. The bullets bounced off his armor seamlessly, Tony analyzing them as they continued to fire madly into him.

Jamming his palm forward, Stark shot the soldier directly in front of him with a repulsor blast, launching him back. Next, he jammed his fist in the gut of the man next to him, sending him high in the air before he came back for a painful crash in the dirt. Spinning around, Stark shot the last soldier with another repulsor, earning a painful cry. More shot at him, even more were headed his way.

He walked right for them.

Twilight watched Stark handle the unknown enemy from where she lay. She gulped, finally being able to fully breathe again, and relished in that, taking in several terror-filled gasps. With the return of her breath, so to with her hearing, finally being able to make sense of what was actually happening around her.

And what she hadn’t heard earlier.

“Twilight! Are you out there?!”

“Where are ya, Twilight?!”

The shouts and screams came from her left, back into the white fog.

“Girls… Girls!” Twilight shouted, standing up and trotting forward. Twisting her neck left, she stared into the fog, eyes darting in every direction. She screamed, “I’m here! I’m—!”

A whistle of air caught her hearing, followed by a quick and painful pinch in the back of her neck. Rearing forward, Twilight yelped at the unfamiliar presence. The pain was short, and was beginning to quickly numb around the area that hurt. Gritting her teeth and reaching back, she felt what appeared to be a short stub erecting from her neck, a softness at the end.

Using her magic, she yanked out the object. She moaned at the pain and numbness building, her magic bringing forth the object for her to observe. It definitely was a short, metal stub, a bushy supply of red hair on its end, which would indicate the softness she felt earlier. However, its other end—where she presumed the pain came from—was a sharp point.

Twilight’s eyes grew wide, her vision beginning to blur, her breath shortening.

It was a tranquilizer dart.

Almost instantly, the effects she knew would come began to transpire. Once more, her hearing was lost, her own heavy breaths being all she heard. She blinked several times and still saw nothing but a shade of what things should be. She didn’t know if she stumbled. The world reared right, so Twilight leaned to the left, and came across something soft, something hard. It didn’t hurt, though. Nothing hurt.

Just numbness. Silence, and closing darkness.

In that darkness, a soldier cloaked in shadow came up to her, said something incoherent, and reached for her. And that was all she saw.


The Captain rushed forward, launching his boot into the chest of an unfortunate soldier. The soldier flew back from the impact, his back hitting the car door he came out of. He slumped forward into the grass, motionless.

Steve looked around him, his chest heaving, head constantly on a swivel. Directly ahead, prone bodies of the soldiers lay in pain, bleeding out, or dead. Those who had survived backed away quickly towards the edge of the lawn, towards the Ellipse, their M4 assault rifles jutted outwards. They were aimed right at him, and yet the soldiers did not fire.

They retreated to the smoke, disappeared through the tear gas. Their gas masks kept them safe. Steve took several steps forward.

Through the smoke, something shot out. Something large, something fast. Steve had only a split second to react. He did this time. It was a shell. Steve knew the moment it made impact with the car to his left, causing the vehicle to erupt into flame. Far enough not to kill him, but close enough to hurt like hell. The Captain was blown backwards from the blast, the fire singeing his suit. He landed several feet from the flaming car.

And looked back up.

The tear gas finally cleared up ahead, and forward came an armored trooper.

He reloaded the underbarrel of his assault rifle, putting a fresh grenade shell inside. He wore heavy, black armor from head to toe, his chest plate slashed with a white “X”. Following him were several other armed soldiers, their weapons pointed out, some firing a few rounds. Steve quickly rolled to cover behind the flaming husk of the vehicle, peeking out.

Pausing, the leader of the group looked around, noting the tear gas fading from the area. He reached forward and removed his gas mask, placing it on his holster. Beneath, he wore only a second mask, the white paint against the black creating a skull-like design.

Steve watched his movements, waited for him and his men to make their move. But they didn’t move forward. Out of the smoke and from the distant right, another soldier covered in black emerged out of the chaos, this one holding something rather large. Steve narrowed his gaze, his breathing silent and steady.

And as the soldier finally came into view, he realized what he was holding was…

Twilight!” Steve roared, leaping out from behind cover. A red-hot pain shot through his shoulder, a gush of fresh blood pouring out from the wound. Steve yelled out and ducked back down behind the vehicle, clutching his bullet wound.

The man with the skull helmet lowered his rifle, turning to the approaching soldier.

“Sir, we have the princess!” the soldier declared, the drugged Alicorn lying in his arms, motionless.

Beneath his helmet, the man’s scarred face muscles flinched and narrowed. He nodded, pointing his rifle forward. “Get to the Osprey! We’ll cover you!” he shouted, he and the men behind him firing off several rounds into the crowd and at the Avengers.

The soldiers in black began to back away, any surviving one retreating to the Ellipse and towards the Osprey. As they did they fired, the Avengers rushing to cover, the officers with them every step of the way. Bullets flew back and forth across the body-littered lawn of the White House, flaming cars and debris pockmarked across the blood-soaked grass.

Starlight Glimmer and the others had seen so much. Even as they coughed their way out of the tear gas, finally free from the fog, they had only been met with an even more grave sight. The dark soldiers had already passed the street separating the South Lawn from the Ellipse, and one of them was carrying Twilight.

Right for their escape.

“Twilight!” every mare shouted in unison. The six mares rushed forward, Spike with them, towards the ones trying to leave with their friend. In a stampede, the seven ran into the cluster of gunfire, a few rounds whizzing by their ears, causing them to flinch back.

It didn’t get any easier. Starlight and the others skidded to a halt as a gush of red energy soared right in front of them, clusters of bullets impacting the surface. Their eyes followed the wave of energy, spotting Wanda, Sam, and James hidden behind an abandoned vehicle. Her hands shot outwards towards them, creating the shield.

“Get out of their line of sight!” she warned, teeth gritting as more bullets impacted her shield.

Flinching, Starlight turned from the face of the shield, seeing it beginning to wane, then quickly teleported her and the others safely to the vehicle with Sam and James. Wanda screamed as her shield broke apart, the woman falling to her knees in near-exhaustion.

A fresh round of gunfire impacted the vehicle they hid behind. Sam Wilson returned fire, then quickly ducked back down. Fluttershy pressed her chest into the grass, hooves over her head, praying for it to all end. Others like Rainbow Dash and Starlight continuously peeked out from cover, trying to see where the soldiers had gone.

“What about Twilight?!” shouted Rarity, flinching as more bullets impacted the vehicle.

James Rhodes used the last bullets in his clip, tossing the empty assault rifle aside. Looking out from cover, he could see them entering the loading bay of the Osprey, the twin rotors already powered up. It wouldn’t be long before they were airborne.

He turned his eyes left and shouted, “Tony!”

Firing a repulsor to the last soldier in his vicinity, Stark spun around, spotting James, Sam, Wanda, the ponies, and Spike hiding behind a vehicle in the distance. He zeroed in on Rhodey, hearing him shout, “Tony, they’re getting away with Twilight!”

His finger pointed to the Ellipse, Stark’s head swiveling in that direction. Zooming in, he could see the last of the unknown soldiers piling into the loading bay of the Osprey, the massive gunship rising off the ground and quickly gaining flight.

And he could see her. Twilight. They had her.

“I’m on it!” Stark replied, his thrusters pushing him off the earth and into the air. He flew across the lawn and towards the Osprey well into flight, its rotors shifting forward, pushing the massive ship straight ahead.

Towards their escape. Towards their retreat, with Twilight. Even then, Tony was right on their tail. The loading bay was slowly beginning to close, a random soldier firing away at the approaching Iron Man. Stark shot him in the chest, the soldier landing hard on the ramp. Coincidentally, so did Stark.

Several other soldiers blindly ran towards him, yelling something, firing something. Tony knocked each of them away, pushing himself forward closer to Twilight. He grabbed the neck of the nearest soldier, launching him straight up until he hit the roof of the Osprey, painfully landing back down.

Then he could see her. She was knocked out, lying on her side next to two different soldiers, each of their rifles pointed at him. But they didn’t fire. They didn’t need to. Stark shot his gaze left, to the man with the skull helmet standing in the center of the loading bay.

A rifle in his arms, a grenade launcher underneath. Pointed right at him.

Tony’s face contorted. He quickly shot out his hand, his palm glowing bright. But he wasn’t fast enough. Dammit, he wasn’t.

He fired. The grenade shell hit him right in his Arc Reactor and blew him right out of the Osprey.

As Stark shot out from the blast, the loading ramp finally closed, the Osprey picking up speed and making its escape. As for Tony, he plummeted like a rock, crashing hard into the Ellipse and spewing grass and dirt in every direction. His armor took a tumble, rolling several times before finally coming to a steaming rest.

The static in his HUD was unbearable, Stark flinching at the flashing lights. He reached up and pulled off his mask, groaning as he shifted under the weight of his broken suit. He rolled to his side, then got on his knees and planted his palms into the dirt. Then he looked up and stared.

Watched as the Osprey vanished through the blinding sunlight.

Stark closed his eyes and punched the dirt. Many times. He only stopped once the familiar sounds of the mares came behind him. They screamed for their friend, Rainbow Dash flapping her wings and ready to take off, only to be stopped by Natasha.

“What are you doing?! She’s our friend! We’re not leaving her!” Stark heard Dash shout, her voice cracking. Painful.

Romanoff replied, even more harsh than Dash, shouting, “You’ll get yourself killed and you know it!” Their argument lasted longer, but it was drowned out. Drowned out by the sounds of sirens. The sounds of terror, of pain, of loss, and so much more.

And those didn’t stop. They lasted for hours and hours.

What a damn hot day.

Author's Note:

Happy New Year! Here's to 2017!

I think it might be the Fourth of July regarding the gif, but screw it. Fireworks. :derpytongue2:

PreviousChapters Next