Steve and Scoots

by gmen15

The Second Attack

Chapter 5: Second Attack

As soon as I ran outside and didn’t see the bright, sunny sky above me, I knew that we were in for it.

Never in my life had I seen such ferocity and turmoil as I did the moment right after leaving the safety of the tent. The sky was grey with smoke; vehicles blazed in the still hot as hell air. A swarm of insurgents were flooding into the base, firing without remorse at soldiers who were scrambling to find cover.

The large attack siren that had been placed at the far end of the camp was no longer standing. I could see that the top half was folded over and resting on the ground, still slightly attached to the bottom-half of the pole.

“That’s why there was no warning.” I muttered to myself, imagining a projectile missile being launched at it from a distance before the attack. Unrealistic, but it was the only explanation I could come up with on the spot.

I could feel Scootaloo shivering in my arms as she looked around, slowly taking in everything around her, from the blood to the fire to the sounds of guns and explosives. I was about to ask her if she was okay when I felt someone slap me on the shoulder.

I turned to my right to see Charlie look at me with the utmost urgency in his eyes.

“We need to get to the bunker!” Charlie shouted as if I didn’t know that already. Then again, I hadn’t moved from the spot I was in for half a minute. It was a miracle I wasn’t hit.

Charlie started to run off with the others, motioning for me to follow him towards the bunker.

I snapped myself out of my mental state of shock and followed, bringing Scootaloo closer to my chest to protect her, much like I did to Amy after she broke her collarbone after rolling off our bed.

As I ran to catch up with the others, who were already almost at the bunker, except for Davis and Charlie, I had tunnel vision. I blocked out the surrounding pandemonium and put all of my focus towards getting Scoots and I into the safety of the bunker.
“Why didn’t the sirens go off?” Davis shouted as I finally managed to reach him and Charlie.

“The tower’s broken.” I pointed to the fallen pole and Davis shouted an expletive before firing at some more insurgents. I could see that Butch, Brad and Ben, who most likely noticed our absence, were now coming back towards us.

“Hurry up you fucking slugs we need to get some shelter, now!” Butch screamed angrily.

“You don’t think the God-damned fire and explosions weren’t enough to tell us that!?!” I shouted back, my voice cracking slightly from my nerves.

Suddenly, I heard a little, scared voice come out from within the blanket that was in my arms, “Why…why are there so many of them?”

I was about to answer but, as my vision cleared and I was able to see how many more insurgents breached our camp this time around, I realized that I didn’t have an answer. This was an unorthodox amount of insurgents to say the least. Hell, it was downright suspicious.

They were even taking down some of the air support we managed to get sent to us after this morning’s attack. Even if the helicopters did manage to take down a good number of the bastards, it only took a few seconds for a few others to take their place and launch a projectile missile at aircraft. Then it was only a matter of seconds before the helicopter burst into a brilliant display of orange fell to the ground in a heap of fire, smoke and warped, blackened metal.

This was improbable. Never have I heard of such an attack on an American base. Knowing as little as I did, not to mention being confused as fuck, I answered Scootaloo in the only way that I could.

“I don’t know.”

As soon as the words left me lips, I heard a loud “bang” to my left, followed by a large spray of deep red blood that rained on the ground right in front of us. I turned towards the source of the red shower to see Davis collapse. There was a gaping hole in the back of his skull, blood gushing out like it was a fountain. His legs twitched for a moment before they suddenly stopped moving all together. His body laid face-down and motionless on the blood-stained desert sand.

“Davis!” Brad shouted, running over, his medical bag slapping against his thigh as he ran. “God-fucking-damn it, Davis!”

Charlie and I were too shocked to say or do anything other than gape at the corpse of our fallen friend. Scootaloo didn’t say anything either. I couldn’t directly see her face, but my guess was that if I, a hardened soldier of this fucked up war, was stunned from what I just saw, then an innocent filly like her was probably mortified beyond measure.

Brad reached Davis and got down to check his pulse, which seemed pretty ridiculous considering he had a hole in the back of his head the size of a golf ball. Then again, it was always better to be certain that one is dead rather than just assume it.

I turned myself away from both of them and placed my hand over Scootaloo’s eyes so she couldn’t see the worst aspect of humanity anymore.

“What…happened to him?” she whimpered, trying to peek through my hand. Her poor voice, quivering like her body, gave me all the mental imagery I needed to assume what her face looked like.

I imagined tears running down her face, her entire mind reeling as she was most likely too stunned to say a word. Thinking about these things made me even more determined to hide Davis’ body from her eyes.

“Don’t look.” I said in an assertive, father-like tone that probably sounded harsher than I meant for it to. Just as I said that, I heard Brad and Charlie stand up. I looked to see that they each had one of Davis’ arms in their hands. We all started to run off to the others, bullets whizzing by our heads, some missing by mere inches and tempting me to dive to the ground and shield Scootaloo’s body from the incoming rain of metal and lead.

“Is there any saving him?” I asked Brad, who was struggling to drag Davis with Charlie, who seemed to have a much easier time lugging his friend.

Brad looked up at me and shook his head, “He’s already gone.”

I nodded slowly before turning my attention back to the bunker. Butch was already inside, the barrel of his run gently placed on the sandbags of the bunker, his eyes staring out at the base. He was giving us cover while Ben stood outside of the bunker, motioning for us to get inside.

He really was the best leader we had.

“Were you able to help him?” Ben asked once we were a few feet away.

We all shook our heads.

“Then why the hell did you take him here?” Butch shouted. “You know how vulnerable you were? Risking your fucking life for a corpse?”

“Dead or alive, we’re not leaving our friend out there alone.” Charlie growled back. “Not like a selfish prick like you would understand that.”

“You’re right, I wouldn’t.” Butch snarled before he pointed to himself, “Because this selfish prick had to take out insurgents so you didn’t die out there acting like idiots.”

Butch then turned his attention back to shooting his weapon. Charlie rolled his eyes at Butch’s behavior. He clearly cared about us, but he was always a dick about it.

“Clint! You and the filly get in first.” Ben shouted. I didn’t hesitate and quickly climbed into the bunker. Brad was close behind while Charlie stayed above-ground to provide some cover for us. Once in the relative safety that the bunker provided, I walked over to the corner and gently placed Scootaloo down on the sandy ground. She turned to face me; the blanket still wrapped snuggly around her body as her moist eyes met my own.

“Where are we?” she asked. She moved her eyes away from mine and scanned the inside of bunker. I could see in her eyes that she recognized this place, “is this the same place you left me in earlier today?”

I nodded. Suddenly, her eyes darted back to meet mine. They were filled with a sudden fear, “You’re not leaving me again, are you?”

I shook my head, “No Scootaloo, I’m staying here to make sure nothing bad happens to you.”

She gave me a small nod in trust and understanding, her tense body somewhat more relaxed after I gave her those words of encouragement and hope I offered her.

I felt a moment of relief as it seemed she had not broken down in the way I was worried that she might. Right now, she just seemed nervous and a little scared, most likely reassured by the bunker walls that shielded her from the war outside, as well as my words, which helped her relax immensely.

”…nothing bad will happen to you.” I repeated in my head.

But this moment of peace with Scootaloo was short lived, as it only took a matter of seconds for those words of hope to transform into a lie.

Charlie landed on the floor of the bunker with Ben right behind him. Ben was just about to follow suit, one leg hanging over the edge of the wall while his other was ready to swing around, there was the crack of a gun, followed by the “bang” of a bullet making contact with a solid target.

Blood sprayed from Ben’s neck. Ben instinctively put his hand over the wound just as he fell into the pit, blood gushing from his jugular as he laid face-down, and writhing around like a fish out of water.

“Oh fuck me! Fuck me!” Brad shouted before he ran over and turned Ben onto his back. Ben was still conscious, but it was clear he was about to go into shock.

He lay on the ground only three feet from Davis’ corpse, his own blood running down his side and spraying out of his neck. The sand around him started to turn crimson, as did Brad’s face while he tried to put pressure on the wound.

A wound that everyone in the bunker knew was fatal.

Through all the ruckus in the bunker, from Butch still firing despite his wishes to help with Ben, to Brad keeping his fingers on the jugular, to Charlie whispering reassuring words to Ben that really had no purpose other than to make his journey into the next life less excruciating.

I walked over to join them, forgetting about the little pony that was now curious as to what was going on. Her little body weaved its way between our legs so she could see what we were all so focused on.

Charlie saw me come over and he shook his head, “No man get back with Scootaloo, we’ve got this.”

Before I could even nod my head in response, Scootaloo walked beside me to look at the horrible scene.

“You’ve got wha…” before she could finish her question Scootaloo was able to watch first-hand as Ben went into shock. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped in dismay. The man she saw alive and well moments before, the one who had waited for us to get to the bunker before he got in, began to writhe uncontrollably in short, violent spasms on the ground.

She stared without saying a word for a couple of seconds until Ben stopped moving. His entire body went limp, his still open eyes glazed over, his skin pale as a ghost.

He died right in front of Scootaloo’s eyes. I would’ve given anything at that moment, even my own life, to erase the image of death from Scootaloo’s mind. But she did see it; she had seen war take another good man’s life in one of the most gruesome, torturous ways possible, and no amount of praying or pleading could help her forget that.

“Is he…is he…?” she whispered. All of us were silent, except Butch, who was still busy shooting.

“Will you three assholes help me out or what?” he shouted angrily as he fired another round off. “I can’t keep playing the lone ranger here, I need some assistance!”

Charlie decided to help butch out. Brad just stared as Scootaloo, before I could do anything to stop her, slowly walked over towards the Ben. She also got to see Davis’ corpse lying right beside Ben’s. It was like a two for one sale for the loss of purity and innocence, and apparently for fillies it was free.

Just as she was about to reach Ben’s body, her hoof sunk into the ground slightly and became damp. She looked down; her tear-filled eyes weren’t enough to shield her from seeing what she stepped in.

“What is this!?!” she shouted, lifting her hoof that was now covered in a mix of sand and crimson.

She fell backwards onto her flank screaming in horror, her eyes never leaving her blood-stained hoof.

“Get it off of me!!! Get it off!!!” she shouted, scooting back to her blanket, her hoof dragging along the way as she hoped the sand would clean it off. But all it did was leave a long, bloody streak along the ground. Eventually her screams stopped and she just stared at her hoof, eyes wide, breathing heavy and her body shaking like a leaf caught in a breeze.

Without a second thought I ran over to her and got down on one knee so I was at her level, or at least close to her level.

“Scoots?” I whispered. She didn’t respond, so I slowly reached out to put my hand onto her back.

She initially withdrew and looked up at me, her eyes still scared.

“Why won’t it come off…why won’t it come off…?” she muttered over and over, as if she couldn’t stop.

I looked at her reddened hoof and slowly reached out to it with my left hand. For the first time I noticed how much I was shaking. Whether from the situation of having two close friends die within minutes of each other, or my adrenaline from the chaos, my body was barely more stable than Scoots’.

I took her hoof in my hand and pulled it towards me. She didn’t take her eyes off of my face as I took out a canteen that I had on my belt. I poured a little onto her hoof. She flinched and then slowly relaxed as I started to rub the blood off of her as best as I could, using the cloth of my sleeve to scrub.

As I helped Scootaloo, I noticed about four to five more soldiers hop into the bunker. They looked exhausted and bloodied, their faces covered in greasy sweat and ash, their breathing was heavy. Though they seemed relatively calm in the face, their hands shaking like mine were.

Eventually, they all lined up along the wall to shoot, even Brad. I wanted to help as well, but when I tried to get up, I felt Scootaloo wrap her forelegs around my arm. I turned to see her looking at me with eyes, shining with tears.

“Please don’t leave me here.”

“I’m not leaving the bunker, I’ll be right there.” I said but, before I turned around I felt her arms further tighten my own. I looked down at her hoof, which, I had to admit, looked a lot less bloody than it was before.

“Please…stay…” she whimpered, nuzzling her face into my arm as she continued to look up at me like a sad puppy. Just like a puppy, I couldn’t resist her pleas as long as she gave me that look. It was only a matter of seconds before I caved and slowly lowered myself back to her level.

As I did this, Butch glared back at me, “Oh nice, spend quality time with your little pony friend while the rest of us do your job for you.”

Just as he said that, Charlie grabbed him by the shirt collar and pulled him close, “Why don’t you shut up so we don’t all have to do your job for you?”

Butch opened his mouth like he was about to retaliate, only to close it again. Charlie nodded and turned his attention back to shooting. Butch gave me one, last glare before he, too, continued his fight. Apparently the other men who recently joined us in the bunker were so consumed with their focus on the insurgents, they failed to notice Scootaloo. Or they did notice her but, decided to address the matter when there weren’t people trying to kill them.

So I sat with Scootaloo for the rest of the battle. I started to quietly sing some songs from movies I remember watching with Amy when she was really young, like “Can You Feel the Love Tonight” and “A Whole New World”. Both of which would always manage to cheer her up whenever she was in a down mood. Like that time Carol and I had an argument over a new dress she bought that I felt was a waste of money. Things got heated and the result was a very hurt nine-year-old daughter who ran up to her room in tears.

I went up to see her. She was lying face down on her bed crying into the pillow. I took a seat next to her and gently placed my hand onto her back. Through her sobs, she kept asking if Carol and I were getting a divorce. Apparently one of her friend’s parents had broken up after an argument involving a new car the husband bought without permission from his wife.

I tried to tell Amy she had nothing to worry about, that her mother and I loved her very much and arguing was just something all grown-ups did. None of this seemed to help, so I decided to take drastic measures and start singing one of the songs from “Beauty and the Beast”. This got her to not only stop crying, but to actually join in with the singing.

Eventually she sat back up and sang louder, her sad face turning into one of joy and laughter. We sang through a bunch of songs that night, each one making her cheerful deposition return more and more.

Singing, however, didn’t help Scootaloo get over what she saw. Even when I asked her if she wanted to join in, she didn’t even bother to give me a “yes” or a “no”. Hell, I would have settled for a shrug but, she was just too upset to do anything other than lean against me, her eyes closed and her breathing rapid as I could feel her little heart beat quickly against my side.
The only thing reason I knew she wasn’t asleep was her occasional movement or shift in place, and even then they were so small that I barely noticed them.

Finally, the battle slowed down enough for us all to leave the bunker. I lifted Scootaloo up and held her close to my chest. Charlie and Butch both passed Ben and Davis’ bodies up to the other men, who agreed to help us carry them to the medical tent so they could be prepared to be shipped home. Once both bodies were out of the bunker, Charlie motioned for Butch to climb out first.

Butch, still angry at Charlie for scolding him earlier, climbed up and out of the ground. Charlie followed him so it was just me and Scootaloo left.

I looked up to see Charlie standing on the outside of the bunker, his hands outstretched towards Scootaloo and I, motioning for me to pass her up as I walked over to him.

“Okay, Scoots I’m gonna pass you up to Charlie.”

She didn’t reply, she just stayed curled up in my arms. I slowly handed her off to Charlie, who carefully took her and pulled her out of the bunker. I followed and climbed out.

Charlie handed her back to me once I was standing again, and I readily took her back into my arms. I looked around assessing the damage.

It was unbelievable. Almost every tent was burnt to a crisp, including the one where Charlie and I resided. The one we were in just as the attack started.

Vehicles were scattered all around us, burning like a mini inferno, the metal blackened and the appearance looking less and less like a truck with each passing minute that it burned. Bodies lay strewn across the sandy ground, both enemy and ally. Blood pooled out around soldier’s bodies, much like it had with Ben.

A group of soldiers behind a destroyed, burning truck lay dead, their bodies mutilated. Whether it was from a projectile or a homicide bomber, I wasn’t sure; it was sad either way.

We continued to look around to try and find our captain amid the frenzy, which wasn’t too much as so many lay dead that there were fewer people running around to check the bodies for anyone that could be saved.

Eventually we found Captain Shore, who was talking with some other officers, and upon seeing him it was clear that the battle hadn’t left him unscathed as a cut ran across his head. The bleeding seemed to have stopped, but it was still a gruesome sight as the blood that did escape the wound was still on his skin, though it was dry.

He turned to see us, the five other men, and the two corpses we brought with us. He didn’t seem to notice Scootaloo yet, as I was near the back of the group. But I knew that it was only a matter of time.

“Jesus Christ.” He muttered once he saw the two bodies. He sighed and pointed to a tent that was still standing. It used to be the dining tent, but now it appeared to have been converted into a makeshift hospital for the wounded, and morgue for the dead. “Take them over there with the other bodies.”

Butch, Brad and two of the anonymous men carrying the bodies nodded and ran off, leaving five of us, plus Scootaloo, alone with the Captain.

“Bastards shot down our air-support, and there were so many of them they think they were supplied by an outside source.” The captain muttered as he looked around at the once proud camp, reduced to ashes.

“Outside source, sir?” I asked.

He nodded, “A government, another underground terrorist organization, hell maybe they’re just recruiting with better propaganda. We won’t know until they investigate it, which they will. You can trust me on that.” He looked towards me with that last statement, and that’s when his eyes landed on Scootaloo, who was looking down at her little hooves.

The Captain pointed at her and looked back up at me so his steely eyes met my own.

“What is that?”

I’ll admit. I got a little nervous having the captain draw attention to myself. But I still had a question to answer.

“She’s…she’s a pony.”

“And why does she look like a God-damned cartoon character?”

“Because…she…is one?”

He looked at me for a moment before letting out a long, drawn-out sigh, “I’m too aggravated to put up with this shit. We’ll take her to the next base and find a way to get her stateside.”

“Next base, sir?” Charlie asked.

The captain nodded, “Yes, this base is decimated and we’ve received word of threats of another attack on a base about twenty miles from here. They want reinforcements in case their attack is as large as the one that just hit us. Meet at the front of the base in twenty.”

He then looked back down at the filly in my arms, “And keep an eye on her.”

I nodded, “Yes, sir.”

The captain walked off, leaving Charlie and myself alone in the middle of the smoldering remains of the base. I finally heard a little noise come from Scootaloo’s mouth as she spoke, “How could this have happened?”

“Evil runs rampant in these parts.” Charlie answered as he took out his cross necklace and began to quietly mutter some of the usual prayers he did. Normally, this wouldn’t bother me at all; in fact I usually supported it. After being through hellish battles, it was always nice to have someone on our side that had so much faith to make us feel somewhat safer.

But now I saw something else entirely. After losing Ben and Davis, both stand-up men with lives and families back home, I began to feel somewhat angered by Charlie’s constant faith.

But what really put me over the edge was Scootaloo. Knowing about everything that she’s seen in the very brief amount of time she was in Afghanistan. All the death, devastation, terror that she witnessed made my anger at God rise. Unfortunately, instead of getting flat-out angry at God, I took most of my rage out on his messenger.

“Are you enjoying your little conversation with God?” I asked with the slightest bit of malice in my voice. Not too much where it was obvious that I was angry, but enough where Charlie clearly was suspecting that something was wrong when he looked at me with a confused stare.

“Because I was wondering if you could ask him why he dropped Scoots off here?” Scootaloo looked up at me from her position my arms. I stooped down and gently placed her on the ground. She looked up at me as I tossed the blanket over my shoulder. She was now exposed to the world around her. Everyone in the camp, or what was left of it, could see her clear as day, but for the first time I didn’t care. Maybe because the captain already knew, or maybe it was my building anger with Charlie, but something happened to me in that moment where nothing else mattered besides the miserable filly that once had such innocent eyes, now foggy and corrupted, and my laundry list of questions for Mister Religious over here.

“Why not back stateside? Why not in Europe or some other peaceful part of this world? Hell, why did he even send her to this world!?! I’m sure there are plenty of peaceful worlds she could’ve gone to!” I growled.

Even though I knew technically it was Sweetie Belle that sent her here through a mis-cast spell, I couldn’t stop the overflowing hatred at that moment. Not even the nervous, scared look in my best friend’s eyes as I slowly started walking towards him accusingly could stop me.

“What is he trying to prove!?! Is he making some sick, twisted point on the contrasts of our world by taking an innocent girl like her and making her life through this hell!?!”

“Steve, please stop.” Scootaloo pleaded, but I was already too far gone.

“A place where she can die or get seriously hurt!?! And if not that, then her brain is plastered with images of warfare so she has PTSD before she’s a teenager!?!”

“Steve!” she screamed her voice quivering as I assumed she started to cry.

Again, I was too lost in my rage. Charlie seemed to try and say something, but whenever his lips moved, not a single word came out. He simply looked like a cowering child that was being interrogated by his father for something truly horrendous.
“Does he not think she’s been through enough, what with her parents dying? She has to be dropped off here…”

“STEVE!!!” Scootaloo shouted so loud that I finally turned to look at her. Scootaloo began to sob like a baby, shaking her head, “Please…stop yelling I can’t take it.”

With that, she collapsed to the ground and began to cry. I felt my heart sink at the sight, my own eyes started to fill with tears.
I caused her this pain. Watching as Ben died caused her to freak out, and she did cry a bit in the past hour or so, but only when I had my outburst against Charlie, did she break out into full-fledged large sobs, her face buried in the ground as if she was trying to escape through the sand.

I walked over and got back down, much like I had in the base. I slowly extended my hand, but stopped as I felt too guilty to put my hand on her to reassure her.

“Scootaloo…” I muttered. She slowly looked up at me. Her face covered in sand and tears, her eyes still like faucets. “I’m…I’m sorry.”

Scootaloo looked at me with a surprisingly disapproving look, “I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.”

She pointed behind me. I turned around to see Charlie looking down at the ground. He was no longer holding the cross in his hand, he was no longer muttering little prayers to keep us safe and ensure that Ben and Davis were looked after in the afterlife.

He was motionless, a flesh and blood statue without expression. His face was flushed of color, his eyes glazed over in a fog. He wasn’t crying or anything that drastic, he was simply miserable.

“Charlie, look man I’m sorry that…”

“You’re right.” He muttered, “Why do I bother. Even when I pray, I see good men all around me get gunned down like deer. What good does it do?”

Oh no, I didn’t mean this. I mean, sure I was angry and took my rage out on him, as well as God, but I never wanted to break his spirit.

“Charlie, don’t say that, I was wrong…”

“No you aren’t Steve, you’re point was completely valid.” He said. He didn’t show it in his near emotionless face, but by the tone of his voice I could sense that he was truly saddened. “What’s the point anyways?”

Charlie reached behind his neck and un-clipped his necklace and let it fall to the ground at his feet. He looked down at it for a brief moment before he looked up at me, “Come on let’s go meet the captain.”

With that he walked off. He didn’t sulk, he didn’t storm, he was just indifferent, and lacking any spirit he had only moment before, when I thoroughly did more mental damage to him than any part of this brutal battle had.

I slowly walked over to the glistening gold chain from which a beautiful gold cross hung. I bent over and picked it up off of the ground. Once I stood back up, I examined the necklace like an employee at a jewelry store.

“What is that?” Scootaloo asked.

“Charlie’s salvation,” I answered before looking down at her. She eyed it curiously before I shoved it into my right breast pocket, “until now. Damn-it.”

“Is he going to be okay?” Scootaloo asked, her eyes looking out towards the direction Charlie went off in.

I sadly shrugged, “Can’t tell but, I hope he will be.”

I slowly started to walk off, Scootaloo trotting slowly by my sides. Her spirits were less in the dumps than they were before. She seemed somewhat normal, save for the lack of smiling and talking, she at least wasn’t sobbing. As we went on, I couldn’t help but notice all the soldiers who took notice of Scootaloo. Many just stared in awe at the sight, while others had a look of familiarity in their faces. That, and the occasional soldier mouthing “Scootaloo”, indicated to me that this base had far more fans of the show than I originally thought.

Eventually we reached an area where some trucks had already lined up. Charlie still looked downcast and Scootaloo was turning beet red as she finally took notice of everyone that was staring at her like she had two heads.

“Scoots you want me to put the blanket on you?” I asked.

She shook her head, “No, I don’t mind…if they look at me.”

I nodded and looked around. By this point, once the initial shock already passed through the soldiers, they had gotten back to their duties. I can guarantee they were talking about what they saw, but most of them didn’t seem to be gawking at her like they were a moment ago. And those that were, with those unmistakable “fan-boy” faces, were soon drawn back to their work by aggravated officers or their fellow soldiers that needed help moving a body or checking on supplies.

Captain Shore came by about five minutes later, Butch, Brad and the five men came back to join us. The captain then ordered Butch, Scootaloo and me into one truck along with two other people that were in the group of five soldiers I didn’t know, but who helped us in the bunker. Charlie and Brad went into another truck with one of the others, while the last two from the anonymous soldiers’ group got put into a separate truck.

We all got in, Scootaloo taking her place on my lap while Butch and a younger soldier got in the other side of the truck. At the front, there was a driver that was inside the truck before any of us got in, and a middle-aged soldier in the passenger seat, a very serious look on his face as he looked down at his gun.

Butch made the younger soldier take the middle seat in the back, or the “bitch” seat as he called it, and hopped into the window seat before slamming the door in a rage.

“Fucking ass-holes got us up and moving when we should be staying here to help out.” He growled.

“They need us at that other base.” The driver said without looking back from his seat. He obviously didn’t know Butch, because if he did he would’ve stayed quiet and kept driving. Instead he riled up the beast in the bastard.

Butch looked up so his eyes were staring into the rearview mirror, “And they need us here, you fucking glorified chauffeur.”

With that, Butch turned to me and Scootaloo, who was also looking at him. Her eyes were now angry. Even after everything she saw today, from Ben’s death to me lashing out at Charlie, she had not forgotten how much of a jerk Butch was to her.

“I thought you said you’d stop being a jerk if I revealed myself?” Scootaloo asked.

“The battle happened before you got a chance to, therefore my place as group asshole is still in-tact.” Butch hissed back.

“But your captain saw me, so I did.” Scootaloo gave Butch a small smug smile. I couldn't help but smile a little myself, glad her spunkiness was still somewhat intact after everything she saw.

Butch rolled his eyes and looked up at me, “Hey Clint, aren’t you gonna discipline her or something? Come on be a father figure.”

“Why would I, she’s been right about everything she said about you. You’re a brash, arrogant prick who, unlike most of us, lives up to every military stereotype in Hollywood.”

Butch opened his mouth to reply, but stopped. He closed it and turned away just as Scootaloo gave him another smug smile.
She then looked up me and provided me with an equally small, but genuine, smile; which I returned.

I looked over at the person sitting in-between Butch and I. He was young, as I’ve mentioned before, but I don’t think that gives justice to how young he looks. He has the appearance of a boy that just graduated high school. He is thin in frame, and relatively small. He also had near albino-blonde hair pressed down under his helmet.

Every now and then his eyes would look at Scootaloo before looking away. His face was turning red, from some kind of embarrassment I assume. I wanted to ask why he was acting like that, but then I saw a patch stitched to his uniform. It was a yellow circle that had three pink butterflies in the center of it. I immediately knew what it was, how could I call myself a fan of the show if I didn’t know what exactly was on the patch?

Before I could say anything, Scootaloo seemed to take notice of it as well and spoke up.

“Whoa, is that Fluttershy’s cutie mark on your arm?”

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[A/N] I apologize for the long gap since I’ve written my last chapter for this story.

This chapter is a little less realistic, though with Fernin’s help I was able to at least try and account for most of these situations. Let me know if anything was blatantly unrealistic where it was a distraction while reading. If not, I hope you managed to enjoy this chapter.

And once again, thank you RainbowDashEpicness for helping me edit this. :)

Comments

[mcb893]

That's epic...

and kinda sad.

[Rakdar]

SECOND!!!!! not as impressive as first but still
wtfdidtheysay.files.wordpress.com/2011/11/2397_bpfobu.jpg
and heres what i do for every cliffhanger
assets.diylol.com/hfs/809/fad/866/resized/cliffhanger-meme-generator-hanging-on-to-a-cliff-for-dear-life-let-me-just-check-my-survival-manual-d1434e.jpg?1312683254.jpg

[An A10 Warthog]

she shouted angrily as he fired another round off.
seems legit.

[Cunt_Crusader]

That plot... exposition.

[Fireheart 1945]

Thanks for giving Butch a piece of your mind. I hate it when people are always -------s like that.

[firespiritorelric]

to all haters
irregularwebcomic.net/fanart/nazisuperscience.jpg

[firespiritorelric]

1237988assets.diylol.com/hfs/809/fad/866/resized/cliffhanger-meme-generator-hanging-on-to-a-cliff-for-dear-life-let-me-just-check-my-manual-d1434e.jpg?1312683254.jpg
assets.diylol.com/hfs/809/fad/866/resized/cliffhanger-meme-generator-hanging-on-to-a-cliff-for-dear-life-let-me-just-check-my-survival-manual-d1434e.jpg?1312683254.jpg eeyup

[Jonny Bench]

If I ever have to get involved with war, I'm gonna be that guy shooting as much as possible while shouting "taste the rainbow motherf*ckers!" And other generic things like scootin for a boot in and blooming for a doomin