Skyfall: Treason

by Dusk Quill

Chapter 8: Diminution ♫

By the time the seventh week hit, most of the Royal Guard had been successfully indoctrinated with their new training. Fleethoof and Stratagem had picked up the advanced courses, pushing the soldiers to their absolute limits. In the regard of the Marines, Fleethoof made sure they were pushed beyond even that, especially when their numbers doubled to a hundred strong.

Shining Armor was busy wrapping up the training, slated to end right on schedule. Within the final couple weeks hereafter, the new Royal Guard would all be prepared and ready for active duty. The three-month plan had been a rousing success.

Much to his relief, Fleethoof had not heard a word of Union’s whereabouts or activities. Normally, such a disappearance would be cause to worry, particularly when he hadn’t found the time to talk to the princesses about abandoning the operation. In his mind, it meant they weren’t active, and were more than likely safe. His fears were abated, if even for a short period, and he could focus all of his attention on the hundred rapidly growing Marines and one very trying bat pony.

To her credit, though, Midnight had been taking over the reigns (albeit at his urging) from him a little more. What had begun as one instructor developed into two, until Fleethoof fell back to just assisting. Midnight Dasher stuck to Shining Armor’s planned regiment for the Marines, and although she detested the required early morning marches, she struggled through it, along with the weapons training, mixed martial arts, and other rigorous programs the Marines endured.

Now, as the training came into its final phases, the Marines were taught practical application for what they were learning, which meant one thing: war games.

Bright sunlight poured down through the sparsely covered tree branches, the limbs still clinging to a few colored leaves. Most of the leaves had already fallen in preparation for winter’s arrival, heralded by the cool air that wafted through Whitetail Woods. It was the picture definition of a typical late-autumn day.

Twigs and dry piles of grasses crunched noisily underneath the hooves of two uniformed Marines as they fanned out through the clearing, three more spread out along the tree line. Their new uniforms stood out in contrast to the browns and reds, much to their displeasure, but the green camo set them apart from the regular Guard, something every soldier had cheered and hollered about when they were presented with their new fatigues.

In their hooves, each Marine held a small compact rifle. Their pistols hung in their holsters at their sides. Red bands were tied around their hooves. Full kits were lugged on their backs, another necessity in a realistic wartime scenario. All they were missing were their enemies.

“Clear,” the pointpony called back to his team, and the ponies advanced further through the trees.

All around them, a swirling world of vivid warm colors threatened to drown their senses. Not a single bird chirped anywhere, all the fowl long-since haven flown south for the season. Other than the occasional whisper of wind in their ears, it was completely silent. It put the soldiers on edge.

“Any word on the other teams?” the pony asked their radio operator.

The stallion shook his head.

“Fuck…”

“We should head due north. The other teams probably started further up than we did,” another Marine pointed out.

“Good idea, Fire Wave. Everypony try to keep to the high ground. We’ll see if we can’t ambush anypony along the w—”

A soft pop and the sound of something breaking through the air caught everypony’s attention. The Marine at point grunted and recoiled as he felt something hit him, and then glanced down as a dull ache started in his chest. The other Marines looked in horror at the red stain spreading across the soldier’s uniform.

“Enemy fire!” Fire Wave yelled as his teammate collapsed to the ground.

Everypony dropped as fast as they could, hearing more projectiles ripping through the trees towards them. Fire Wave was breathing hard, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he scoured the area for any signs of movement. He looked over to his fallen friend, gently nudging him with his hoof.

“You okay?”

The wounded pony grunted and gingerly touched the red paint on the torso of his uniform.

“Yeah, I’m good. Damn, those paintballs sting…” he said.

Fire grinned and heard his team return fire. They had spotted the enemies.

“Ten o’clock!” somepony shouted.

The stallion turned over in the dirt, spotting a pair of camouflaged figures darting through the trees for cover. He brought his weapon up, maintaining his prone position as he opened fire. Several trees between the two teams were marked red with his shots.

“Get to cover!” Fire said, and the Marines broke for the trees, pressing their bodies up against them.

A short distance away, the sound of running and rustling leaves could be heard. Fire peered out from behind the tree, spotting a fellow Marine in uniform crouched behind cover. But the band around his leg was gold, not red.

He took quick aim and fired off a short burst of shots, watching with satisfaction as the pony jerked backwards, red paint covering his entire side. The pony fell back to the dirt, his lips moving as he muttered something under his breath, most likely cussing out his attacker. Fire chuckled to himself.

The sound of a paintball hitting his cover made Fire jerk back behind the safety of the tree. He grunted and swore as he felt the wetness of the liquid splatter against his nose. To his side, his team returned fire, and the cries of the soldiers opposing them were heard. More casualties.

“Move!” one of his teammates said.

Fire Wave broke from cover, darting to the next nearest tree along with his fellow soldiers. He could see two more ponies lying out on the ground, which meant there were only two more Gold Team members to kill.

No sooner did he hear that, another pony popped out from behind a tree and shot at one of his comrades. The shots harmlessly peppered the trunk of the tree he was behind. Fire squeezed off a couple of shots, but the mare ducked behind the tree again—with one fatal error. He noticed her leg still sticking out from cover, and took the shot.

The mare cried out as she fell to a knee, her leg giving out under the shot. She was instantly taken down in a hail of paintballs. Only one left…

The group of Marines began to tighten the noose. Outnumbered and outgunned, the last Gold Team Marine threw caution to the wind and went out guns blazing. He yelled out as he opened fire, striking a pony in the shoulder and toppling him over before Fire Wave and another took him out with three clean shots.

“Clear!” said Fire Wave as he counted the fifth kill. “Get on the radio. Let ‘em know Gold Team’s done.”

“Shit! We thought we had you guys!” a Gold pony said, getting back up and collecting his weapon. “Element of surprise, and all.”

“Well, we would have had them if Blazer here didn’t have such an itchy trigger hoof,” another defeated enemy muttered. “Giving away our position…”

“HQ says for all the dead ponies to head back out of the woods, back to Canterlot,” the radio operator relayed. “Green and Purple Team are out too.”

Fire Wave nodded, reloading his weapon. “All right, Marines! We’ve still got six teams to find! Let’s move!”

Midnight blew a stray leaf out of her mane, her dark indigo locks hanging in front of her eyes as she crawled through a thicket. While the rest of the Marine platoon had split into ten teams to test their skills against one another, she had separated into her own team to test herself. That, and to pick up a few hooves-on skills from the pegasus she was now actively following.

Fleethoof lay prone in the dense bushes, donned in his black uniform. Like the Marines, he carried a full kit, including his fully loaded harness and pack. The only difference from his normal operation loadout was his weapons. Even still, the cool synthetic material of his ‘gun’ was like a grounding lifeline to him.

He peered through the bush, staring down the incline of the hill they lay on. The woods spanned around them for miles in either direction. For the past half hour, they had been pursuing the Blue Team, but now they had lost the Marines somewhere in the forest. He grumbled, scanning the trees and listening closely for any telltale signs of combat.

Beside him, Midnight crawled up to peer out of the bushes as well. She had no idea what Fleethoof did in the Guard, but watching him operate like this was almost terrifying. The pony gave off an aura of deadly professionalism, the kind that got the job done fast and efficiently, whatever that job was. His eyes were always focused and calculating, analyzing and figuring out literally everything around him, like a predator's. It was unsettling and thrilling all at once.

“Are you getting anything?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Fleethoof pursed his lips and made a soft noise in the back of his throat. “Why don’t you tell me?”

Midnight looked out through the woods again. There wasn’t a soul to be seen anywhere. Even the animals seemed to have cleared out for the games. She shook her head, confident of her answer.

“No, there’s nothing. We lost them.”

“Did we?” Fleethoof cast a wry glance at the Lunar Guard. “Listen harder.”

The mare scrunched her brow in confusion. She tried to focus harder… on what? All she could hear was the silence. With a grumble, she closed her eyes and tried again, straining her ears.

There, above the white noise of silence: the subtle sounds of distant pops from the paintball guns.

Midnight gasped. “They’re right ahead, maybe one o’clock.”

“Right,” the stallion beside her replied with a smile. “Remember, even the smallest, subtlest clues can be found with a little perseverance and strain, and they can be the most important. Let’s get going, before they move on again.”

The ponies quickly rose to their hooves, galloping down the hill and running at top speed through the woods. Fleethoof, as Midnight had expected, was fast on his hooves—but she had gotten faster. She quickly caught up to the pony, running alongside him in the direction of the firefight. The closer they got, the louder the sounds became.

Fleethoof and Midnight rushed through a small clearing, and spotted figures moving in the trees just ahead. A grin spread across the bat pony’s face. Finally, they would get some action after an hour of tracking and hunting. But just as she was about to charge forward into the fray, Midnight felt a pair of hooves wrap around her sides, and she was hoisted to the ground hard with something heavy covering her.

“Oof! What the—?”

“Stay down!” Fleethoof hissed through gritted teeth as three paintballs hit the tree just above their heads, laying his body protectively across his partner.

Two Marines wearing bright orange bands around their hooves stood a short distance away, advancing on the prone ponies. Fleethoof grabbed his weapon and rolled across the ground behind a nearby bush, leaving Midnight stunned on her back.

“Wait!” she called out and tried to crawl after her partner, but a volley of suppressive fire kept her pinned behind a nearby tree.

Midnight’s heart was hammering in her chest. She had been through all the combat training simulations back in the Hollow Shades against her own kind, and those had been pretty rough, but nothing prepared her for this. Coming under live fire was a lot different than training for battle. Clenching her jaw, she listened, waiting for something to happen.

The two Marines began to circle around the tree, their weapons raised and ready. As the one stepped past his hiding spot, Fleethoof leapt out grabbing the pony’s hooves and dragging him into the underbrush with a cry of terror. One quick shot to the pony’s chest point blank eliminated him from the game.

“Blunder Buss?” the remaining Marine called out to his teammate, looking around urgently.

Fleethoof sprung up from the bush. The Marine’s eyes went wide when he saw the pony, pivoting to bring his weapon around, but he was too late. The captain had already fired off two shots into the pony’s torso by the time he made his turn.

“Clear, Midnight,” he called out to her, smirking at the two disgruntled Marine. “Sorry, colts. You opened fire first.”

“Yeah, well, we almost had Dasher,” the one named Blunder Buss said, laughing as he tried in vain to wipe the paint off his uniform. “Good thing she had you, sir, or she’d be a goner.”

“That’s for sure,” agreed Midnight, wiping the sweat from her forehead. “Nice try, colts.”

The two defeated soldiers began to make their way back out of the woods, due east towards Canterlot, chatting to one another the entire way till they were out of sight. Still alive, Fleethoof and Midnight continued to advance on the sounds of gunfire, both ponies on high alert after their run-in with Orange Team.

The two instructors kept low as they moved closer towards the shootout. The sounds were coming from a field up ahead. A creek ran parallel to the field, creating a picturesque idyllic scene. A small, derelict cabin sat at the far end of the field, a weathered split-rail fence separating the area. Inside, silhouettes of figures could be seen ducking in and out of the broken windows. In the field and the surrounding tree line, five uniformed ponies opened fire on the house, keeping whoever was inside thoroughly trapped.

From a distance, Fleethoof and Midnight watched while two kept a line of suppressive fire on the windows while three others circled around to the side of the cabin. The pegasus motioned to the bat pony and led her around to the stream. He slid down into the shallow water, flinching a little as the cold water made contact with his skin through his uniform, but he waded slowly and stealthily through the current, undeterred.

Midnight didn’t even bat an eyelash at the cold. The Shades were always cooler than the rest of Equestria, almost perpetually in shadow year round. Keeping their heads down, the ponies worked their way through the ditch the creek carved into the ground, just low enough to keep out of sight. As they rounded the bend in the trench towards the cabin, Blue Team advanced in force. A loud crash was heard, prompting both stallion and mare to peek up in time to see three members of Blue Team kicking the door in.

There were a few shouts from inside the house, followed by a cacophony of pops from the paintball guns. Fleethoof continued to wade slowly through the water, so as not to make any splashes or noises. The two Marines of Blue Team remaining outside had set up a perimeter around the house as the sound of combat ended inside, unaware of the threat sneaking up through the water.

Fleethoof lay down on the slope of the bank, crawling through the damp grass up until he could see over the edge. They had made their way around to the side of the cabin, and could see the Marines outside by the door, and moving around inside.

“Two hostiles outside, three in,” he said in a hushed whisper to his partner as she crawled up alongside him. “Take the two outside, then follow my lead. I’ve got left.”

Midnight tightened her grip on her gun, bringing it up and taking careful, deliberate aim. “I’ve got right.”

“Remember, no headshots. These hurt.”

“Roger.”

Fleethoof picked his mark. “Got him?”

“Got him.”

“Weapons free.”

The two ponies took one shot each. Fleethoof’s found its destination right over the Marine’s left lung. Midnight’s flew high, hitting the pony’s helmet and sending him reeling back with a yelp of surprise. Fleethoof cast a disparaging look at the proudly grinning mare.

“Do you ever listen to me? Ever?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Fleethoof rolled his eyes. “Follow me. Move quick.”

Fleethoof and Midnight took off, following the stream around the side of the cabin as the Marines inside began searching for the sounds of the gunshots. Fleethoof dove and slid up against the side of the structure, pressing him back against the wall as his less-agile partner ran up alongside him.

He motioned to Midnight to keep quiet. Through the window above their heads, the sounds of booted hooves moved across a wooden floor. There was somepony at the window right now. Midnight could scarcely breathe. She could almost feel the vast amounts of adrenaline flowing through her bloodstream, wiring her like caffeine. Her golden eyes turned from the window down to her partner, who had lifted his gun up.

At first, Midnight didn’t know what he was planning. The stallion’s eyes were fixated and intense, his breathing slow and focused. Then she noticed the way he was staring at the window and the way his posture changed from a crouch to a pounce, her eyes went wide. Surely he wasn’t going to…

As soon as Fleethoof saw a glint of a rifle barrel stick out past the windowpane, he leapt. Jumping up, he pushed the barrel of the gun to the side with his free hoof while bringing his own down, level with his victim. The expression on the Marine’s face was one of priceless surprise. Fleethoof squeezed the trigger. Paint splattered against the pony’s battledress.

“Hostile, window, four o’clock!” somepony inside said, and Fleethoof barely had time to get out of the window before paintballs flew out at his head.

“Go!” Fleethoof shouted to Midnight, and took off around the backside of the cabin.

Having no idea what the plan of attack was, Midnight Dasher blindly followed the captain’s lead. The rear of the building had no windows, just a back door, providing them with a little cover. Fleethoof took advantage of the loss of sight with the enemies and took to the air, arcing gracefully over the cabin’s roof and landing at the front door.

As the captain rushed inside, sweeping the corners, he heard something smash at the back of the building. The rear door. Quickly maneuvering through the mostly empty and dark house, Fleethoof ran to the back, which was a small, dusty kitchen. The room looked like it hadn’t seen an occupant in years, save for the two Marines covering the back door. Just as he was preparing a plan, one Marine glanced up at the doorway he was besides, just catching a glimpse of Fleethoof's golden mane in the dim light.

Fleethoof recoiled back just in the nick of time as projectiles pelted the rotting wood. He grit his teeth and fired blindly around the corner, hoping to at least keep his enemies at bay. Blue Team was proving exceptionally skilled at working as a cohesive unit. Shining Armor would want them leading a squad.

“The window!” one of the soldiers in the adjacent room shouted out.

He could hear the sound of fire continuing in the kitchen. The Marines must have caught a glimpse of Midnight Dasher going past a window. Taking the risk, he peered around the corner. Both Marines had turned away from him. One of the stallions turned around just in time to see the barrel of Fleethoof’s rifle level with him.

With a soft pop of pressurized air, the pony was covered with paint, marking him for dead. He stumbled back against the wall as his friend cried out defiantly, shooting to suppress the pegasus soldier behind the wall. Grabbing his downed friend by the pack, he dragged him out of the building and into the bright sunlight. He knew that Corporal Dasher was still somewhere around, but all he could think of was getting his friend out of there as quickly as possible.

Fleethoof pursued the Marines, taking position by the back door and waiting. Poking his head around the corner earned a volley of shots in his direction, so back into cover he went. It was up to his partner now.

The Marines began to retreat into the tree line for safety. All the while, the last living member of Blue Team kept his eye on the cabin, making sure their officer wasn’t going to continue the pursuit. As he struggled to pull his friend past the first line of trees, he felt something jam against his back, and he froze on the spot.

“Sorry, colts,” Midnight’s sumptuous voice spoke from behind them.

The Marine had expected to feel the shot against his back, so when the strike came from his left side, he was surprised, to say the least. Two rounds peppered his side, and he heard Midnight gasp from behind him as well. As they had been instructed to do, the pony dropped to the ground, feigning death, and glanced at the bat pony. She had paint covering her back and the left side of her torso as well.

That was when four ponies dressed in camouflage emerged from the trees, each one wearing a red band around their hooves.

“Hostiles down,” Fire Wave said back to his team. “Eyes up! There might be more.”

Red Team approached and checked both Midnight and what remained of Blue Team. All three ponies had been killed.

“What happened to him?” asked Fire Wave.

“The captain’s inside!” the Blue Team Marine warned.

Fire Wave’s eyes darkened as the words settled in his mind. The moment he looked up, he heard shouts from his team, and watched as a pony fell under a burst of shots from the cabin’s door.

“Find cover!” he said aloud, even as his team was already scrambling for the nearest solid defense they could find.

Corporal Fire Wave ducked down behind a small boulder, hearing the projectiles hitting the surface of the rock. Captain Fleethoof was inside. He knew what the stallion was capable of, having seen his abilities demonstrated throughout their training. He had been present when he had sparred with Corporal Dasher as well. This pony was not to be trifled with. And with one pony down, and another technically injured, now came the real challenge.

Inside, Fleethoof silently cursed his misfortune. Of course another team of Marines would have to show up before he could clear the area, and of course it had to be Red Team. He knew who was in each group, and knew that Red, Blue, and Indigo Teams were the ones to watch out for. Why Shining Armor had assigned the top of the class to those teams hadn’t seemed fair at the time, and now in practice, Fleethoof felt genuinely cornered.

Fire Wave motioned to his team to move up, the stallions slowly advancing on the building. Their eyes and aim remained on the open door at all times, watching and listening. Fire Wave’s breathing was heavy, but controlled. Officer or not, if Fleethoof was going to peer around that doorway, he was going to take him out.

The three ponies made it to the side of the structure, pressing their bodies against the solid wood. Fire Wave stood closest to the open door, listening for any sounds inside. Directly on the opposite side of the wall, Fleethoof stood just as still, listening to the outside world, his hoof on the trigger. Neither pony moved, just daring the other to do something.

Corporal Wave glanced across the way to his teammate on the other side of the door. He nodded, and Fire Wave nodded back. Taking a deep breath, he gripped his gun tight to his chest, raising it, and preparing to charge in. It was do or die.

“Civilian!” one of the downed Blue Team Marines shouted.

Fire Wave muttered a silent curse as he looked around for the pony in question. Above their heads, a gray pegasus filly glided lazily through the air, swerving this way and that. What the fuck was she doing out in the middle of Whitetail Woods?

“Hold your fire!” Fleethoof ordered from inside the structure. “This exercise is on hold!”

Fleethoof stepped out of the cabin, stopping in the doorway when he noticed the two Marines on either side of him. The three ponies exchanged looks, and the officer nodded and smiled. They had him dead to rights. He was proud.

The gray pegasus mare slowly came to a less-than-graceful landing in front of Fleethoof, her golden eyes contorted in different directions, and a comical smile on her face. Fleethoof’s blue eyes lit up in recognition. He remembered this pony, though it had been ages since he’d seen her last.

“This is the middle of a training exercise, miss,” he said to the pony, noticing the messenger bag slung around her side. “Do you have some business here?”

“Delivery for a Mister Captain Fleethoof, sir!” the messenger mare sang with a carefree salute, her voice bubbly and giddy.

“You’ve found him.”

The pegasus reached into her bag, producing a file from within and passing it to the captain. Fleethoof took the folder apprehensively, looking over the unassuming cover. His eyes scanned the name of the file.

Union.

Fleethoof’s brow furrowed in confusion. He already had a copy of Union’s file back in his room. Why would the princesses be sending him another copy?

“Thank you, miss. Dismissed,” he murmured, sending the mailmare on her way as he opened the file a fraction of an inch to check the contents.

“What’s that?”

He glanced up as Midnight came closer, cocking her head to try and get a peek at what was inside the folder. Fleethoof turned away from her, blocking her view with his body.

“It’s classified,” he informed the nosy mare, glancing back at her paint-splattered body. “And you’re supposed to be dead. No talking.”

Midnight pouted and crossed her hooves over her chest as she sat back in the grass. Red Team was taking a breather, stopping to drink and refill their canteens from the stream. Left to his own business, Fleethoof resumed checking the colored tabs on each paper within. He had long-since memorized the color code for files for quick reference.

The first six tabs were black: personnel reports and briefings on the operation as a whole. The next few were blue, signifying missions and operations Union had been sent on. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He reached the end, noticing one extra blue tab. So Union had been sent on another mission. What was so important about that?

And then Fleethoof froze. His breathing stopped, and his heart slowed. Cold dread gripped at his soul as his biggest fear had been realized.

A single red tab lay at the very end of the dossier.

Midnight noticed his tense reaction, staring at him with alarm. “Fleethoof?”

He didn’t respond. The stallion blinked his eyes a few times, hoping that he was imagining what he was seeing. The red tab still remained, tucked away at the bottom of the papers.

Not wasting any time, he flung the cover open and flipped through the attached sheets to the very last two pages. His eyes scanned the text as quickly as he could, absorbing the information like a sponge in water.

No… he thought with despair, turning to the last page, and reading over the report.

His eyes fell over the photographs.

No no no no no…

“Fleethoof?”

“I have to go.” The captain turned to look at Midnight, his expression grim. “You’re in charge, Corporal Dasher. Keep the exercise going as planned from the mobile base. I have something urgent to handle.”

Midnight was now very concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t tell you. I just need you to handle things with the Marines. They’re your responsibility now, understood?”

Midnight Dasher was stunned silent, still trying to figure out what was going on. Whatever it was, it was serious enough to draw the relentlessly passionate captain away from his soldiers. Reluctantly, she gave him a slow nod.

“Yes, sir.”

Without another word, Fleethoof shoved the dossier into his saddlebags and took off into the sky, jetting above the treetops and out of sight. Midnight watched his ascent and disappearance from the ground. She didn’t even notice Fire Wave step up next to her, following the pony's path with his eyes too.

“What’s going on?” he asked, sounding just as confused as she felt.

All Midnight Dasher could do was shake her head.

“I have no idea…”

The throne room of Canterlot Castle was unusually still. Neither Princess Celestia nor Princess Luna said a word. Both sovereigns sat like statues, staring off into nothingness. Luna eyed the colored patterns on the floor, cast by the glimmering sunlight streaming through the stained glass windows.

They had not been prepared for this…

Out of the corner of her eye, Luna glanced over at her sister. Celestia’s expression was unreadable, but the subtle hint of moisture in the corner of her eye told the entire story. She felt guilty. She felt responsible. In a way, both sisters were. It was their responsibility to keep their subjects safe and happy.

“This isn’t your fault, ‘Tia,” Luna crooned softly to her sibling. The alicorn didn’t so much as blink. “Nopony could have predicted this.”

“Equestria was safe for so long,” Celestia said to herself. “Where did we go wrong, sister?”

Luna didn’t have an answer to that. Only one pony did: the pony they were waiting on.

The doors to the throne room were suddenly flung open with an echoing bang, catching both alicorns off guard. Their eyes snapped into focus, watching as a solitary pony marched aggressively down the chamber towards them, still dressed in full uniform, armed to the teeth, and speckled with dried paint.

Fleethoof didn’t know what he was feeling at the moment. Anger, guilt, despair? Any of those could have been it, but whatever it was, it was driving him forward like a train. His eyes were burning, narrowed to points. He was out for blood, and made no effort to hide it.

This had always been a bad idea from the start. He had known it. He had known it, and he hadn’t done a damn thing about it. Now the price was being paid.

“Captain Fleethoof,” Princess Luna greeted, her voice monotonous and dry. “We were not expecting you.”

“Forgive me, your majesties, but when something this serious happens, you should expect me to come breaking down the door.”

The soldier’s words were hard and cold. He was angry, that much was evident. It greatly disturbed him in particular. Luna gave him an apologetic look.

“Where is she?” he demanded to know. “Where’s Spitfire?”

“On her way,” said Celestia. “We were waiting for her ourselves.”

Fleethoof laughed weakly, shaking his head in incredulity. “How could this have happened?”

“That is what we are waiting to find out. You are welcome to stay and find out with us.”

“Oh, I intend to,” he said with harsh abruptness, and began pacing back and forth across the floor. “I knew this was a mistake… Somepony was always bound to get hurt…”

“Captain—”

“Why weren’t we called in to help them?” Fleethoof all but shouted. “We were supposed to look out for them! Why weren’t we called?!”

Luna replied first, “1st Lieutenant Spitfire personally requested her team handle this matter alone.”

“And look at where it got them!”

A long pause passed between the three ponies. The only thing that broke the frigid tension was when the doors to the chamber opened and shut again. Fleethoof turned to see the fiery orange pegasus in question walk slowly towards them, dressed in full uniform. Her trademark sunglasses sat perched on her forehead, revealing her eyes for once, which looked heavy and guilt-ridden.

Celestia was the first to speak. “1st Lieutenant Spitfire, we—”

“What happened, Lieutenant? Where are they?” Fleethoof snapped, catching Spitfire by surprise.

“Captain!” Luna gasped in shock at his abruptness.

“Where is Union?” he repeated through clenched teeth, eyes burning darkly. “And where is the body?”

Author's Note:

Training the Marines (Unconventional Warfare): http://youtu.be/WdnXUfQU3hQ

Comments

[Treilacl]

I was happy to see 2 chapters up.
And I'm pretty sure that Dasher is going to learn more than she really should sooner or later. With her I'm guessing sooner...

[Silverstein]

I think the Marines are going to be big players in the future. I wonder what that news is?

Silver out!

[FenrisianBrony]

So I'm guessing that at least one of Union is dead, if not more, and I'm going to say that I really hope Fire Wave doesn't die. I like him.

[Jake The Army Guy]

Hmm... It seems that Midnight has gone from love interest... to potential recruit into Skyfall? A female bat pony on the team?

I heartily approve of this, Dusky!

Demands of MOAR are still in effect. Write, or else...

[Spriggs272]

The twist to the plot I see, All I want to see now is Fleet chew out Celestia and Spitfire before leaving like a boss!!!

But as usual, god work + *add some constructive criticism here* !!!!

[Veyron]

Oh snap the storm is on the horizon.

davidkeener.org/wp-content/uploads/2012/08/storm_over_dc.jpg