> YHaY: The Human of the Guard
>  by Luckless
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Chapter 1:  Arena
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The concert for the tribute band I was in had gone swimmingly well.  We'd played several heavy metal and hard rock songs, which my talent in voice mimicry and ability to near perfectly replicate notes on the guitar had been contributing to our success.  We'd already gotten several offers to play elsewhere, mostly in places up north in New York.
How did we celebrate our success?   How else?  With copious amounts of alcohol.  So much, in fact, that we were all totally wasted by the first hour of our drinking, stumbling about in our drunken merriment in our hotel room.  It was a damn good way to forget the fighting I survived through in Afghanistan and Iraq.
Unfortunately, I didn't remember any of the events in the hotel.  What I did remember, was waking up with a painful hangover, inside of a cage.  I tried to talk (to myself really), but I found that my throat was dry and in a great deal of pain.  Did I scream my lungs out last night?  Regardless, I was left to my lonely surroundings.  
Besides being in a cage, I found to my terror that I was totally naked, and in a small corner amongst incredibly ugly humans that were yelling and screaming in indecipherable sounds.  They rattled their cages, thrashed about in anger, and generally acted... inhuman.  Everything they did seemed animalistic.  Now, I'd seen, and participated in, dozens of mosh pits that had dissolved into fights, and even those never got this bad.
Just what the hell is the matter with these guys?  And why are they naked?  Did they take PCP or something?  It honestly wouldn't surprise me if they had, and this was just some "safe" drug den where addicts could go to get high, and not kill themselves.  I'd heard drug addicts going to great lengths for a high.  Still, something seemed off with these guys, but I couldn't quite place it.  
Other than the cages, there was surprisingly little in here.  Just a ceiling that barely stood over the cages.  Inside of mine, was a bowl of water.  That was it.  Nothing else.  The dirt beneath the cage, the cage bars on the bottom of the cage, and the bowl of water.  Nothing for me to do now but wait until someone comes around to check on me.  I settled down against the door of the cage, and waited.


5 hours later
I'd drank all the water, and I was still incredibly thirsty.  No one had come by to check up on me, or any of the other people in here.  People who were still tripping balls.  Seriously, what did they take?  I just want to know so I can call the cops on whoever took it if they were this violent and dangerous.  
So, for the past 5 hours, I was incredibly bored, having nothing to do.  I'd taken to air strumming, working through the finger placements of some of the songs whose pattern and rhythm I was still working out (mainly Through the Fire and the Flames by Dragonforce because that was criminally hard even without my mechanical arms and hands), and tried to get my voice back in order.  The water helped with that, but I could still only manage a rasp that barely resembled speech.  At least, to me.  I don't know what anyone else would hear.  Probably just the rasp.
Finally, when I'd given up on waiting and was about to fall asleep again, I heard footfalls.  They weren't normal though.  They fell into a cadence of 4, and sounded like hooves on concrete.  I forced my eyes open to look at the coming arrival.  
I...was not expecting that.  Coming around the corner, was a dark brown pegasus with a black mane.  If it stood on its' hind legs it would be just about as tall as me, but on all fours I practically dwarfed it.  When I looked into its' eyes, I saw some sort of sick enjoyment that was directed straight at me.  Even if the fact that there was a pegasus in front of me didn't disturb me, a facial expression, especially that one, did.  I quickly positioned myself to the back of the cage, trying to stay as far away from it as possible.  
Of course, that did nothing.  The pegasus produced a set of keys, and unlocked the door, "Come now, Achilles.  Be a good human, and don't make this difficult."  Her (for by the sound of her voice it was a she) voice was low and sweet, but it had that dangerous barbed tone mixed in that scared me.  As for the name thing?  Well, I guess that's what she was calling me.  I gulped, and took slow steps forwards, looking for any flash of movement from her that might indicate that she was going to do something.
She led me out of the cage, and I waited for an order, because right now, that was all that I could do.  Follow an order.  I was too terrified to even consider running.  She took out a leash and collar with her teeth, and while I was beginning to wonder why she'd need a leash for a human, she spun around on her hooves, and kicked me in the stomach.  
The wind left my lungs, and I keeled over, clutching my stomach and moaning.  I was dimly aware of the collar being attached, and then feeling a tug from it.  Not wanting to be kicked again, I struggled to my metal feet to walk after her hunched over while clutching my stomach.  We passed by rows and rows of humans, all of which reached out from their cages in an attempt to grab me.  Sure, they were all significantly smaller than me, but when someone was hopped up on the kind of drugs these people were obviously on, they can be a hell of a lot stronger and more violent than imagination can conjure.  
Finally, I was brought to something odd.  It was a massive, circular wall with what sounded to be lots of people (or ponies because why not?) on the other side.  The side we were on, had a cage entrance.  I was roughly shoved inside, landing on my face.  While I was down, the pony got on top of me, removed the collar, and disembarked in short order.  I heard the sound of metal striking metal, and a glance backwards showed I was locked in again.  In front of me, was a metal plate wall.  
I've got a bad feeling about this.  Famous last words.
On the other side, I could hear someone talking in a boisterous tone, "Tonight, Ladies and Gentlecolts!" What did he just say? "We have for you two brand new humans for you to watch fight to the death!"  HOLY SHIT!  WHAT DID HE JUST SAY!??!  "8 feet tall, and weighing in at 350 pounds, I give you Achilles!"  Wait, he's talking about me right?  I ain't 8 feet tall or that heavy!  I'm barely 5'9", and only 180, and most of that are my metal arms and legs!  The wall in front of me raised, and inside, was an arena.  I stepped out of my cage, and was immediately bombarded by a bloodthirsty crowd cheering.  Ah, hell.  I'm a gladiator or something aren't I?  And I have to go up against a druggie, don't I?
"And our second fighter stands at 6 feet tall, weighing in at 200 pounds, Crusher!"  The announcer yelled.  On the other side of the arena, another door opened, revealing a much shorter human.  He was skinny, and looked absolutely terrified.  Still butt ugly like all the other humans though.  
"Let's see what these two can do!"  The announcer yelled, and the obnoxious sound of an air horn blowing had me holding my ears and groaning.  Did they just blow that in my fucking ear?
The other guy seemed to be in a much different state then me.  Instead of wincing, it was now screaming in rage.  He had his eyes centered on me.  
Without another moment to process what was going on, it charged me, screaming in an unholy fury.  Unholy... fury...
Time slowed to a halt, memories pouring through my mind.  Memories I'd hoped to bury.  The immortal storms that raged through the forest, the guerrillas ambushing us on trails and roads, their battle cries echoing long after they'd retreated.  Firefights lasting hours, the terror of an empty gun, dead civilians laying in the street abandoned and torn to pieces. The blood dripping down my hands, the blood pooling in the soil, the blood flowing from me, and the fear of me and everyone around me dying.  That same fear exploded into animalistic desperation once that small second in time dissipated into reality.
He lunged out with both hands, teeth bared, and my not too distant military training kicked in.  I grabbed one of the hands, and twisted my body while shoving my shoulder into him and flipped him down into the ground.  The natural flow of the move followed up with a swift and powerful stomp right on the throat, crushing his throat so thuroughly, that I heard the neck snap.  
And just like that, the rush of the panic and fear was over.  I was in control, I could think, and I was disgusted.  Stumbling back away from the body, I sicked all over the dusty dirt, painting the ground with pale, chunky puke.  
I held up my hands and looked at them.  It was as if they were covered in blood all over again.  Gunfire and artillary barrages started to overwhelm my very real hearing.  Not again.  Please, not again.  I looked up from my hands to pass over the pony crowd, who all stared in shock.  Apparently, killing my opponent wasn't supposed to happen.  
"Well... that was unexpected.  Give it up for Achilles everypony!"  There were some weak cheers, but I think they were still too shocked to do anything.  
"His next opponent is the Monster of Manehatten, BUTCHER!  Weighing in at 400 pounds and 6 and a half feet tall, he will certainly kill our little upstart!"
The gate grinded open again, and I turned to see a monster step out.  This big fucker was uglier than the devil himself.  Not even his mother could love that face of his.  He looked more like an ugly pug mixed with a human face.  The beast stomped forwards, those tiny, squinting eyes bored into my skin.  It's happening again.  It's happening, and I have no control over anything but my own survival.
I wanted to say, "Tonight,  you die."  But what came out was the same rasp.  Butcher cocked his big head, and looked confused.  Then the horn sounded, and all bets were off.  He charged me like Crusher, and briefly, I had to think back on how I was supposed to kill a larger opponent.  
Target pressure points, and hit hard..  I sidestepped his charge, and thrust my metal hand into his back where there was the least amount of fat.  He screamed angrily as he fell.  Let me tell you, seeing a fat guy hit the ground is both disgusting and pitiful to look at.
He tried to get up, but his legs refused to move.  Paralyzed.  Sorry pal, didn't think I hit you that hard.  I walked over to him slowly, as more flashbacks flooded into my mind.  
Jack was on the ground, screaming in a pool of his own blood, drowning out the jungle noises around us.  The gunfight was won, but he was on the ground, bleeding and paralyzed.  You could fix a spinal cord if you had the money or the fame, but he had neither and the market wasn't too friendly with vets.  We were days away from the nearest base if we went by foot, and our radio was shot to hell.  There was nothing we could do.  He begged us to put him out of his misery, so we did.  We pumped him so full of painkillers, that he had a peaceful death.
I came back to the moment with a killer headache.  Clutching my head with my hands, I growled in pain.  I was still going to do what I set out to do, even if it hurt.  I walked up to the paralyzed man, and put my metal hand through his skull.  
The body stopped moving, and sagged.  I could feel my eyes watery up.  I'd finally finished my duty, and had made a life for myself, only to be dragged down to this shit.  Alone.  In the band, we were all vets from the war, and we'd all lost some part of ourselves.  Henry, the drummer, lost both his legs.  Lezlie, the secondary singer and bassist lost an eye and some bone from her skull.  Jordan, the support singer who sang most choruses, was left blind. And Ned the support guitarist who played a double neck guitar, well, his vocal chords were destroyed and he lost both legs and a finger.  
Then there was me.  I was missing my arms, legs, eyes, and had been shot several times.  Most were glancing blows that just looked cool, but the wounds that took my limbs and eyes crippled me to a pitiful existence until the doctors had mercy on me and gave me artificial, well, most things.  My eyes, limbs, a few replacement ribs made of metal, a repair of my pelvis, and they infused, something, into my bones.  
What right did I have to live when so many others died?  What right did I have to have such a good replacement for what I lost even when I didn't have the money?  Or even just period?  What right did I have to kill brothers, sons, and even fathers?  What right?  Why?
I fell to my knees crying, and screamed my anguish for all to hear.  In this arena, I let my soul to be seen by all as the weak thing I was.  All the fear, the sadness, hatred to myself and others, and all the confusion.  
And they cheered.  They fucking... cheered.  
And I hated them for that.  I found a new source to take it out on.  Them.  I sprang to my feet, and got a running leap into the stands.  There, I let loose.  Wether I killed or not, I don't truly know.  I just know I kept fighting until they'd all fled out the exits, and ponies with fighting gear blocked my path.
I cracked skulls with them until a unicorn challenged me.  It stood there in robes that made it look stupid.  It's horn glowed a translucent green, and light forked it's way to my forehead.  
I felt pain, but it just made me angrier.  I ran towards the unicorn, and punched it as hard as I could.  Bones crunched and cracked as the head spun around until it was facing the same way again.  The pony had the most focused look on its face as it collapsed dead on the floor, horn slowly fading away, the pain going with it.  More unicorns showed up, using what I'd guess was the same trick that the last one used.  The pain was weaker and weaker each time they used it, and with that, increased my resolve.  
After I'd killed dozens of ponies, my rage was subsiding, and then a little prick in my neck told me I'd fucked up and let my guard down.  I tore out the tranquilizer round and threw it away just as the effects started to kick in, which was immediately.  I stumbled about, trying to keep my balance even as my vision started to fade out on me and my eyelids started to fall.  My knees sagged inwards, and my feet went their separate ways.  My knees hit the floor, and I fell backwards, staring emptily at the ceiling.
> Chapter 2: Pain and Relief
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

They didn't like that display.  The ponies starved me for three days, only giving me water.  On the fourth day, they fed me, and sent me to the arena again.  There, I fought five more if whatever these things were, and barely lived through it.  I was hungry, and had hardly any energy.  I learned now, that these were a mockery of real humans.  They were, quite literally, animals.  These five animals I faced, they were dead.  Their faces caved in, with various other injuries.  
After that, I was given some attention for my one wound, a broken cheekbone.  Of course, you can't really DO anything about that, and they tried that strange trick with their horns, but nothing really happened.  They paid special attention to my eyes, of all things.  I caught a glimpse of them in the only mirror in the room.  Blood... fucking... red.  My mechanical eyes hadn't looked sinister, but they sure as hell did now.  My eyes were black voids with red dots that pierced my own soul. Damn it.  Damn it all.  They changed my eyes?  To that?  Fuck.  Now I didn't just feel like a monster, I looked like one too.
After that, it was rinse and repeat.  I stopped trying to fight them after they showed me their blow darts, because what's the point?  They'll just dart me then punish me with starvation and harder fights.  Day after day the daily grind went on.  I suffered nightmares through the night, waking up screaming most of them.  Memories from the Middle East, the Argonne Forest, Italy, China, Russia, and even Canada.  Not to mention all I had to do.  I'd seen every combat environment, seen and been a part of too much shit.  To think that I signed up illegally as a 16 year old under my brothers' name.  
As time went on, I was sold owner to owner, taken city to city or wherever the hell I was.  I fought, I bled, I slept.  Do it over again.  At one point, one of them had the bright idea to give me a shank.  The fight ended in mere seconds.  Then they started running armed fights, and grand melee's and just overal shitstorms.  
It eventually came to the point where I was too tired and too mentally broken to care about escape, just living long enough to see daylight again.  
Daylight.  I was forgetting what that looked like.  Just like in the Northern reaches of Canada, Alaska and Russia.  When the season hit, the sun could be hidden for months at a time.  Times like that, it was hard to look at my weapons, and not wonder what it would feel like to die.  Like I was sort of feeling right now.  I had what I needed.  Long, thin but tough blankets that I could tie a noose with and connect to the bars above me.  
No, couldn't do that.  Gotta keep going.  For all who died before me.  Live a life before my time comes.  
What rattles my resolve, is my new owner.  SHE, is a bloody fucking monster.  Nineteen previous owners, and none of them have had done to me than what she's ordered.  
Apparently, there were a lot of lonely mares, and a few lonely stallions who swung that way.  And I say SWUNG, past tense, as in their little friend doesn't get a rise any more outta screwing human males.  In fact, they can't really rise at all anymore.  
The stallions were the first, so my new owner reworked her technique the next time she tried that crap.  First, tranquilizers in my food or drink.  Before I woke up, a...*ahem*... stimulant was given to me to make my one eyed snake be forcibly move to full mast.  Then they'd somehow finagle a way to bind me to a partial cross before I could get my head together and resist. Then the mares had their fun.  Brutal... hours long... bloody crotch that had me walking funny... fun.  
Then, they tried making it a family event kind of fight.  It came to the point where I truly believed these ponies were either bloodthirsty, insane, or both.  
And the kids, damn, the KIDS!  I could not, for the life of me, understand them.  Just as I finished one fight, a little foal of a pony dropped into the ring to stand right up to me with wonder in his eyes, and smiled at me.  
I didn't know what I should do, so I knelt down, and started petting him with bloody hands.  He didn't get scared like he should have, but he certainly liked me more for it.
A grown stallion tried to do the same thing.  I scowled, and threw him out with some cracked ribs.  My punishment were more fights against monsters that violated all sense or logic.  Might I add without weapons too?  Almost didn't walk away from that manticore, and for once, I'm glad I have fake metal arms.  That's what finally killed it.  Too much brain damage.  
Now.  After all this, I don't know what's real or fake now.  Everything is a blur.  I fight humans, ponies, minataurs, other mythical beasts, a few zebras, an actual horse, a few bulls here or there, and a dragon.
Down time consists of regular doctor visits for my wounds, baths when I get too bloody or smell too bad.  When I'm in my cage, I try to sleep, but one can only try for so long, or get so much.  When I can't sleep, I'm remembering.  All the bloody memories, all the brothers that lived or died.  Sometimes, I wonder about my parents.  We weren't the closest of families, but we still talked to each other.  Then there's my band mates.  For their sakes, I hoped they found someone else to fill the role of lead singer.  If they didn't, then they'd obviously go broke.  Not too many jobs for the wounded, and the VA only pays out so much with how many wounded vets there are.  
I wonder what they thought over my disappearance?  Did they think I died?  Or just disappeared?  Did the news make anything of it?  Probably not.  Maybe local, but not for long.  I'd pass through the news quicker than a piece of candy with a little kid.  
That was it.  The final conclusion.  I'm not important.  Unless you get famous, or fall in love, no one cares.  Not one damn.  I almost manage a chuckle.  Only my brothers that knew me would care, and most of them are dead.  So what's the point?  
Never really given a chance to contimplate that.  It's always something.  A fight, a raping, doctor visit.  Always.  Something.  
Good.  I can't think myself to death that way.

3 years later 
Another fight.  In armor this time.  My usual armor too.  Brass breastplate, makeshift scrap helmet, and a wooden round shield with chips and pieces missing.  My weapon, a simple, bent sword.  
My opponent was a pony, also dressed up in armor.  It was old too, as was the pony, marked with age and extensive use, but it looked official with its' dull gold glimmer.   He may be old, but he had a military manner about him, even as a pony.  Me, I was bred from years of practice with the sword against all opponents.  This would be easy.  
There was something... off though.  My owner wasn't here, nor were any of the usual rich gamblers.  Gamblers that got rich off betting on me.  This was all wrong, so very, very, wrong.  
I looked at my adversary, who was concentrated solely on me.  He didn't seem to notice anything off.  I couldn't help but wonder if this was a set up for these pricks, but then again, this was ponies I was talking about.  They may be brutal, but they can be equally stupid and smart at the same time.
Doors crashing open erupted from down at the far end of the building startled everyone in here, even my opponent.  Ponies in golden armor flooded from all directions.  My eyes widened as they started arresting every single pony here, including the one I was supposed to fight.
Too soon, all weapons and eyes on me.  Well, I could fight, and try to escape, finally, and hope I don't die but probably will.  Or, submit, let them kill me quick or hope they're merciful.  Eh, fuck it.  I'm tired of fighting.  If I die, I die.  I drop my sword, and kick it away.  Same thing with my shield and helmet. 
I raise my hands above and behind my head, interlocking my fingers, and slowly go to my knees.  Finally, I close my eyes, and wait for their decision.  
Well, they didn't stab me, but they certainly brought me to the ground where they removed my armor in what I had to guess was record timing, and tried to remove my arms, but when it started hurting, I let them know by crying out in pain, but kept myself from retaliating.  
"Lieutenant, it's not coming off.  What do we do?"  A voice called out.
"Leave it on him, put him in with the rest.  We're going to see if we can make something of him."
"Yes sir!"
Yes sir.  Yes sir.  Yes sir!  YES SIR!!!  They're military, or at least a police force.  Does that mean, this was all illegal?  Maybe, just maybe, there's some good in this world after all.
I stood up, and opened my eyes.  The ponies were scared stiff at my height, and even more so, I would say, of my eyes.  They never stopped staring, and shuddered when my eyes passed over them with that intensity that belonged to my new eyes.  
The soldier assigned to me looked about ready to crap himself.  He was a small stallion with hardly any build.  Most ponies were about 4 feet tall, but this guy was even smaller.  Any smaller a pony, his armor would slip off.  He could barely level his spear at me as he tried to fight his own fears.  
When he dropped it, it seemed as though his hooves had frozen to the ground.  Please don't piss yourself.  I begged.  I grabbed up the spear, and held out the shaft to him to grab.  
His face, I don't think I could replicate that look even if I had a thousand chances.  This was a face of someone who realized that the monster that was in front of them, was not a monster.  But in fact, a friendly helping hand.
Gingerly, he took it back in hoof, and smiled at me.  I, in turn, gave him a respectful nod.  Then, I saw something off about his armor.  It wasn't too big, it just wasn't strapped correctly.  Slowly, I approached him, kneeled down, and started readjusting his straps to fit him correctly.  Once the ponies got over my intelligence in fixing the straps by some very peculiar "logic", off we went outside.  We past the cages, some I'd slept in, others I'd suffered in.  I shuddered as memories seeped through my mental wall of numbness.  All the pain and loneliness that I had suppressed over the years came flooding back.  I fought back tears.  Humans here didn't cry, and I couldn't expose myself for fear that they'd do even worse to me than I'd already gone through.
Then, was the outside.  The sun was shining, the warmth bathing me in some sense of freedom.  I couldn't hold it any longer. I didn't care if they saw anymore.  I cried silently, tears streaming down my face.  None of the ponies noticed my wet cheeks.  
They loaded me up in a wagon full of ten other humans.  A cage that should only hold five.  The humans around me knew how deadly I was, and shied away whimpering, trying to put as much distance between us as possible.
It made me feel like crap that I was feared for something I had been forced to do.  Maybe I could have been a bit less violent, but then again, survival here depends on how well you can entertain the crowds, and making it gory is the best way to do that.
Once the cart was underway, I could see the city, and boy,  it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.  It was like the most imaginative artist had made his most desired ascetic of a city a reality.  Buildings curved and blended slightly simply for the added majesty it provided.  I doubt that the most talented elf in legend could make something half as beautiful as this.  
The ponies in the streets didn't match the city though.  Many of them wore what I would guess to be Victorian age English clothing modified for a horse, and all of them had those self important looks of disdain on their eyes whenever they looked at us or to ponies who didn't wear clothes.  In fact, these nude ponies looked largely out of place.  They were much more colorful than the ponies wearing clothes, and seemed a good deal happier and star struck by the city.  
Must be tourists or something.
We were finally taken to a massive castle that looked to have been carved into the mountainside.  It was built simply, but it still looked perfect like the rest of the city.  It was made out of a strange white stone that was cut into perfect, identical rectangles.  They fit so perfectly, that it was hard to see the lines that indicated they were separate bricks.  The gates were made of gold and adorned with pearly spikes on the top, while stony faced white guards stood with rapt attention towards the street, unmoving.  The guards hauling us took us through these gates, around the back of the castle through magnificent gardens, and all I could think was, How can such a violent and bloodthirsty race make such beauty?  Surely, they can't all be bad, can they?
We arrived at what must have been the loading area, because the ponies pulling us out the backs of the multitude of cages on wagons against the sides of raising doors.   After they detached, they knocked on the doors in a special pattern, the doors opened to several groups of unicorns, who quickly separated the humans and me, put us in our own cages, and levitated us up onto a conveyor belt which split off into multiple directions to just as many holes in the wall.  Did I mention that the line was long and slow?  And that I was at the end of it?   
After shutting my brain off for a VERY long time, it was finally my turn.  I passed through the black plastic flaps into a room that looked much like an examination room.  Examination for many, MANY, different things.  Inside were two guards with loaded and ready crossbows, and one unicorn doctor.  All staring at me.
The doctor smiles at me, "My my, aren't you quite the specimen?  Look at those eyes of yours.  We'll have to look into it when we get the time for it."  He didn't exactly sound creepy when he said that, but it wasn't reassuring either.  
Just keep your cool man.  Stay calm, and they'll let me live, probably.  I breathed in deeply, and let it out slowly.  I could do this.   
The doctor pulled out a thermometer.  "Ok, time to take your temperature."  He started to walk around me, and I immediately knew what he was doing.  That was a rectal thermometer.
I CAN'T DO THIS!   I matched his pace, turning with him as he tried to walk to my rear.  Humans could show fear, I'd seen this plenty of times in the arena, so I showed my own right here.
"It's ok boy, I'm not going to hurt you."  He said in a calm, soothing voice.  Nope, just, nope.  Finally, the doctor sighed, switched out the thermometers, and said, "Ahhhh!"  Opening his mouth.  The guards tensed, not liking this.  I understood their fears.  If anything beared its teeth at a human, they were asking to be attacked.  
Me, however, I relaxed immensely.  I sat down, and opened my mouth, keeping my lips over my teeth.
"Hmm, that's interesting.  The subject is perfectly compliant with an oral thermometer, and refuses to show it's teeth."  The unicorn approached, examined my teeth, and stuck the instrument in my mouth.  Before he could try to close my mouth, I'd shut it and gotten my tongue over it.
He didn't miss a step though, "Subject is missing some teeth, and the ones he has are much sharper than normal.  They don't appear to be augmented or manipulated, however it remains a possibility considering where he just came from.  The eyes are very disturbing.  No human has ever had eyes like this before, natural or otherwise."  
Nice to know I'm special, I thought sarcastically.
"Muscle structure is very impressive.  Could probably make a minataur warrior jealous."  Yep.  Earned some respect before I paralyzed him.  "Oi, would you look at all those scars!  Several of these look like slash wounds.  Are those surgical?"  Yep, became famous with the doctors for how often I came back.  "And it looks like he saw the bad end of some arrows.  Huh, what are these?  They appear to line up with some of the wounds on the other side of him.  What could have done this kind of damage?  Burns here too." Yeah, flamer troops are a bitch. 
"Let's see what's underneath that metal shall we?"  I held myself from groaning.  This was not going to be pleasant.  
He tried removing my arm with his magic, but he couldn't do any more than twist my arm around uncormfortably.  "Hmm.  Not coming off.  Incredible temperament though.  Any other human would have attacked by now.  Let's see what happens if I do this."  He poked me rather hard with something small.  It might leave a bruise, but it wasn't too bad.  
"Barely noticed it.  Let's try something else."  With his magic, he brought over an apple, and set it down in front of me.  I didn't touch it.  I knew his game, I'd seen this before with some of the humans sold off as sex slaves.  Those who got angry were put back into the arena again.  What happened to those who didn't is kind of obvious.  
"Come on boy, it's all yours.  Go on!"  Ugh, now I know how dogs feel when we talk to them this way.
"Must not be hungry.  Let's see if he likes toys."  He takes the apple, and replaces it with... a squeaky toy.  A rubber chicken to be exact.  I wasn't impressed.  I looked back up at the examiner with a vacant look in my eyes.  
He squeezed the toy, and it whined.  Sort of sounded like... the final wheeze.  The death rattle of a guys' lungs filling with fluid, and still trying to breathe.  It was an ugly sound that I'd heard too many times.  No one.  Should EVER!  Hear that sound.  
I winced, squeezing my eyes shut and moaned as if in pain.  He didn't squeeze the chicken again.  "Ok, nevermind.  No squeaky toys.  Must have some very bad memories associated with that sound.  I don't think I want to know what he's been through."  You don't know how right you are.
"I think I need a little coffee before I continue."
For the first time, one of the guards spoke up, "Really?  Now?  We're so close to being done, and you want some coffee?  If that's the case, I'm going to need a little something of my own."  And from some hidden pocket, he produced a silvery flask.  That could only mean one thing.  Alcohol.  Being dry for so long, it hurt pretty damn much.  Like a deep itch you couldn't scratch no matter how much you wanted to and tried.
I'd been sitting earlier, but now I was against the cage bars, staring intently on that flask.  The examiner noticed this.
"Hold on a second.  The human seems to be quite interested in your flask.  Would you mind helping me to see if what I think is true?"
The guard growled, but tossed it over to the examiner.  He waved it in front of me, and I gently took it.  I desperately wanted to drink it up, to satisfy that itch, but I couldn't do it.  This belonged to the guard.  I smelled it, shudderedin delight, almost brought the flask to my lips, and stopped.  I shook my head, lightly banged it against a bar on the cage, and looked longingly at the flask again.  
I brought my eyes to bear on the guard, and held out the flask, clicking my tongue.  He looked at me, a confused look in his face.  I shook the flask lightly enough that the precious fluids within wouldn't spill.  
The guard looked at the examiner, "What do you want me to do?"  
The pony hummed in thought, "Take it.  It would appear, that even though he really wants it, he knows it belongs to you.  It's quite strange, but I do believe that's all I need to clear him.  I just need to see what that thermometer says."  He took out the thermometer, looked at it, and his eyes bulged.
"What is it doc?" Asked the guard, curious as to what could have the doctor so disturbed.
"Th- the human should be dead!  He's got a fever of 98.9 degrees!  How it is still alive is practically impossible!"
"So what should we do?"  The guard looked at me warily.  I was slightly confused by the reactions.  Was it possible that this temperature was lethal to the humans here?  Eh, as long as they don't try to kill me, I'd be fine.
The doctor looked at me, obviously still debating what he should do, "Put it in observation.  If it is alright by tomorrow morning, we'll put it through training with a medical disclaimer."
The guard hesitated, "Eh, give me a moment."  He grabbed a mug on the counter, filled it halfway with the brown nectar, and held it out to me.  I was never going to get over how they held things with hooves, but I wasn't thinking about that now.  I took hold of the mug, resisting the urge to smile, and drank it all as quickly as I could.  It didn't burn as hard as most drinks I prefered, but it was there.  I gave a great sigh of relief, and let the empty mug hand by a few metal fingers outside the cage, which the pony took casually.
Soon they'd leashed me, lead me through the castle, and put me in a room that was slightly larger than my cage.  The only other thing in there besides me, was a pet bed big enough for me to lay down on comfortably.  I'd been awake for a long time, 20 hours by my estimate, and I was tired.  So I tested it out, and it was actually really nice.  I practically sank into it.  For the first time I could remember, I didn't have to struggle to fall asleep.
> Chapter 3: Training
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I'd been cleared by the doctor the next day.  Seeing as how I was still acting fine, they figured that my temperature wasn't lethal.  So they led me off to a large room, where there were many other humans, and just as many ponies.  My handler put me next to some of the other humans, and addressed the assembled ponies.
"Alright.  Today, you will be getting your humans.  Play with them, talk to them, try to form a bond with one.  If the human chooses you, then that's the one you get."  As soon as I heard this, I basically tuned him out.  I was looking for a partner.  Most of the ponies in the room were eying me, and I knew they wanted to have me as their human.  I passed my gaze away from them, since they were likely only trying to get me because I looked more impressive then the other humans, and found a pegasus mare who seemed nervous.  She wasn't the smallest pony in the room, nor the largest, and whenever I looked at her, and she saw me looking, she'd turn her eyes away, looking scared.  I found it peculiar.  This green pony with black hair seemed almost terrified of the humans, yet she still was here.  Her head came up to about the area of my heart, and she was neither fat nor thin, or overly muscular.  Just... inbetween.  She was also kind of attractive what with the fact she had some nice curves to her.  I didn't know if it was from the years of being raped repeatedly or from my prolonged exposure, but I did find her quite attractive.
Eventually, the instructor finished his speech, and the ponies began to sift through the humans.   Me, I was walking towards the green one.  Before I made it to her, a hulk of an earth pony stood in front of my path.  He was laden with so much muscle, I found it a miracle he could move at all.  Still shorter than me though.
"Hey little guy.  How'd you like to come with me?"  He had this smile on his face that somehow looked... predatory.  I walked around him, towards the mare again, but he grabbed hold of one of my metal arms.  
"Where do you think you're going?  You're with me now."  He said, a little forcefully.  I looked down at him with the most menacing look I could muster.  He seemed to freeze, unable to do anything.  I twisted my hand free, and continued on my journey to the pegasus that was just standing there, unsure of what to do.
She suddenly looked right at me, and shrank at my gaze.  However, she didn't cower away from me.  I took a knee in front of her, and offered my hand.  She stole a glance at me, which was followed by a surprised expression.  She looked at my hand, then back to me.  
Moving at a snails' pace, I reached up to her neck, and gently, ever so gently, rubbed her neck.  At first, she looked alarmed, but soon her look of terror was overwhelmed by one of ecstasy.  She gave a hum of delight, pressing her neck deeper into my digits much like a cat would.  I gave her a pat on the head, and rose to my full height, and stood beside her.
The hulk from before was staring at the scene with anger.  His face was visibly red from underneath his fur, eyebrows furrowed so deeply he was going to get wrinkles, and I could've sworn I could see steam rising from his ears.
"It chose her?  Why the buck would a human like this choose her?!"  He yelled.  Little did he know, one of the instructors was right behind him.
"Well, if you'd cared to read the information booklets we gave you, you would've known that humans don't like it when a handler or owner is projecting their will over the human, if it's an Alpha like this one clearly is.  Alpha's typically bond better with ponies and other humans who seem weaker and/or smaller than the others in it's pack.  In fact, nearly every human shows signs of caring more about those they perceive as weak, which would need more care, over the ones they see as strong, who they see as not needing any help unless the pack is fighting an adversary."
Not my thought process, but interesting to know.  I thought.
The pony scowled before turning around to find some other human.
My new handler regarded the instructor, "Excuse me, sir?"
"Yes private?"
"What's this humans' name?  And what exactly happened to him?"  She asked.
He hummed in thought, and pulled out a file from his saddle bags, "His name is Achilles.  It says here that he was captured from an illegal human fighting ring.  The handlers we arrested said he had been in the circuit for about three years, and that they never found out what all the metal on him is from.  Medical notes say he is extremely intelligent for a human, and extremely gentle.  Especially considering where he came from.  He also seems to have an affinity for... alcohol?  And it also says that he has an average temperature of... 98.9 degrees, and suffers no symptoms and is seemingly completely healthy."  The instructor looked at me with a small amount of fear.  I knew why too.  Humans here who got a temperature that high usually suffered through delusions and lost their minds.  Often becoming extremely violent.  I didn't know if liking alcohol was something he'd be afraid of, but seeing how I could get when I was drunk, I'd be at least a little hesitant.  
"Well, Private, here's his files.  Read over it carefully, and take him to your platoon barracks.  Get to know him, bond with him, and be ready for training later today."
"Yes Drill Instructor!"  She yelled in the typical trainee way.  I made sure to look straight at her before saluting myself.  Ponies usually dismissed my intelligence if they saw me repeating something I'd seen, so I was confident this little trolling would go unnoticed.  The instructor looked absolutely flabbergasted when he saw my sharp salute.  He held his face with a hoof, and walked off muttering to himself.
The mare took out a leash, and hooked me to it.  She clicked her tongue and gently told me to follow her, and I did.  I stood right by her side, matching her pace, as we walked down the halls.  We came out of the castle to another yard, filled with rows upon rows of wooden barracks.  The pony took me to the closest one to us, and entered in.  The inside was filled with ponies of all races, a zebra, and a horse.  They were all doing different things from armor and weapon maintenance, reading, studying, playing cards, talking, and resting.  When we entered the room, however, they all stopped what they were doing to stare at us.
"Hey guys, I'm back!"  She said, trying to sound cheerful and failing.  She sounded nervous.
"Sweet Celestia, Raindrop!  Could you have picked a more terrifying human?"  One of the stallions asked.
"Well, I didn't actually choose him.  He chose me.  I don't really know why.  He may look terrifying, but he was nice when he first walked up to me."  Raindrop said.  I ruffled her hair, as if to punctuate her statement.
"Whatever you say, just keep that thing away from me!  Look at him!  He's got metal arms, chest, legs, and those eyes!  Bucking Tartarus, he looks like a demon possessed him!"  Another stallion yelled.  
"Oh grow a pair, will ya?  He hasn't done a single mean thing since he picked me.  Now I don't know about you, but I want to learn how to take care of him before the weekend."  With that, she trotted over to an unoccupied bed, and laid down on it with a book about humans, and started to read.  Idly, I wondered what she meant by the weekend thing.  This was boot camp right?  Why would the weekend matter?  It's just lighter training exercises, right?
Having nothing else to do, I sat down next to her bed, and stared at the wall across from me, trying to stop thinking.  I didn't move an inch until one of the ponies approached me.
"Hey big guy, how you doing?" Asked a white stallion with a black mane.  He sounded like how I'd talk to a dog.  I turned my gaze away from him to resume staring at the wall.  
"Don't talk much do you?"  He asked sarcastically.  A bunch of ponies who were near enough to hear him laughed.  I guess it would have been funny if he'd been saying it to a dog, but to me it just fell flat.  He started petting me, but I paid little mind.  I had failed my wanting to think about nothing, and was thinking about how much more I'd need to pay attention to my facade.  In the fighting circuit, I didn't need to keep up appearances much because my captors didn't pay that much attention to me.  Here, I'd constantly need to be focused on looking like any other human I'd seen.  Stupid.
I then realized that Raindrop was reading aloud to herself.  I knew that the doctors had installed robotics inside my ears since I was hard of hearing after the blast that damaged a lot of the sensitive tissues inside my ears.  Now, I could practically control how well I could hear using only thought.  I amped up my hearing just enough to focus on Raindrop.  I caught her muttering about what not to feed humans.
"Do not feed kidney beans that are uncooked or cooked at or under 70 degrees.  Left improperly cooked, kidney beans contain a substance that is incredibly poisonous to humans, even though they are perfectly fine for a pony to eat.  Do not feed flowers, as they contain a chemical compound that if not immediately forced to vomit up, will remove a humans' ability to digest any food, effectively starving the human to death no matter how much you feed said affected human.  Ok.  Now I know what not to feed him."  Raindrop said to herself.
I knew most of this already, thanks to a funny YouTube channel called Sam O'Nella Academy.  However, I was surprised to hear that these ponies would know about this.  Eh, ponies.  They're full of surprises.
"Humans must be bathed at least once a day to keep clean and healthy skin and hair.  Humans can go longer if needed, although they may develop ailments of the skin if not bathed.  Regularly exercise to keep your human healthy and content.  Ensure to provide a protein rich diet.  Having little or no protein will leave your human ill, easy to bruise, and weak, as they cannot synthesize the proteins they need from plant material like ponies.  They can, however, make more proteins out of whatever proteins they ingest as long as it is sufficient to the needs of the human in question which will vary based on the size of the human.  Oi, they really go in depth with the details, huh boy?"  Raindrop finished, asking me.  I turned my head to her with an empty stare, then looked back at the wall.
She read a little bit longer about things that didn't really matter, until the door opened with a bang.
"Alright maggots!  5 mile run, on the double!"  The presumed Drill instructor commanded.
Everypony in the room scrambled from their various positions to sprint out the door and form up into a platoon formation.  Me, I stood right by the side of Raindrop, and as soon as the DI deemed us as acceptable, he had us running.  Then, he started belting out a very familiar running cadence.
"How does it feel to be in the Navy?"  He sang.
"I don't know, we don't sink that low!"  The ponies belted back.  I struggled to contain a crazy grin.  I'd sang this as a Marine. 
This... this is just too good! I laughed in my head.
The song was basically an insult to every branch in the military other than the Marines back on earth, so I could only wonder what branch this was.  
They continued the cadence another 5 times before devolving into "Left! Left!  Left right left!", which is one of the easiest cadences to remember, and one of the more well known.  At least as far as I knew.
We kept running, which was easy as hell when your legs were metal prosthetics.  Raindrop didn't seem to be taking it well though, as she huffed and puffed, trying to keep up the run.  In fact, many of the ponies seemed to be struggling in the same way.  The horse seemed to be doing better, but he was still huffing.  The only one that didn't have a problem was the DI.  He was just belting out cadence as he ran.
Finally, we arrived at the barracks again.  The DI told the ponies to cool down, which most of them decided was permission to collapse on the ground.  After a minute or two of rest, he told them to get up, and start push ups.  Since it didn't really do anything for me, I just stood there, watching while holding back laughter.  In boot camp, I'd had to do far more than this, and all the guys had done much better with getting used to the training.  
Then, the DI commanded them to report to a classroom, but held back Raindrop.
"Take him to the handler.  He's getting an ID branding."
Raindrop visibly flinched, while I held back one of my own.  A branding didn't sound good any way you put it.  
Raindrop looked at me sadly, "Come on boy.  We need to go."  I forced myself to follow her.  This vaguely reminded me of brand tattoos.  I wondered why anyone would ever want to brand themselves with hot iron, but at the moment, it didn't concern me.  I was going to get branded, and unless I wanted to do something very drastic that would probably get me killed, there was no stopping it.
We traversed the grounds where a lot of ponies seemed to be doing just as we had done.  They all looked ready to pass out.  They must've just started training, so they'd get into shape eventually.  Finally, we arrived at a plain building with a line of ponies with humans on leashes by their side.
Wouldn't you know it, we were right behind the guy from earlier that tried to force me into being his human.  The human he had now looked bat shit insane.  Constantly twitching and making odd sounds.  How'd he get pass inspection?
The stallion looked behind him to look at us, and blinked before a scowl manifested on his face, and he turned back to look at the line.
"Crazy human.  Doesn't know how great I am."  He muttered too low for anyone else to hear.
Raindrop seemed to be completely oblivious to his seething anger, but thankfully she didn't try to make any small talk.  The line actually made good progress as we waited.  It couldn't be more than a few minutes before it was my turn.  
Inside the building was basically a forge, making and repairing weapons and armor meant for humans.  A black furred unicorn stallion with grey hair looked up at us.
"Here for branding?" He asked, sounding bored.  Raindrop and me both flinched at the word, but Raindrop still nodded.
The stallion grunted.  With his magic, he levitated branding irons with numbers on them, and another that had it's letters backwards.  The stallion then used his magic to heat up the metal until them glowed orange.  He looked at me once, then turned to Raindrop.
"Could ya take off his armor please?"  It seemed as though he was irritated by this little inconvenience.
"I'm sorry sir, but his file said that they don't come off."
The stallion grunted in irritation, "Guess it's going on his stomach then."
Well fuck me sideways and call me Mary, this is gonna hurt.. I stiffened up, and squeezed my eyes shut.  Raindrop decided to get up on her hind hooves, and held me tightly.
"It'll be alright boy.  It won't last long."  She said softly.  I agreed with the 'alright' part.  I'd obviously gone through worse.  But I knew she was lying about the 'won't last long' part.  
Hot iron pressed against my stomach, the large one with the letters I'd guess.  It started off feeling cold, but rapidly turned into searing pain as the iron was continuously pressed against my skin.  I became very aware of the hissing sound it made as my skin burned.  I forced myself to not move my arms or legs, but I allowed myself to thrash my head and howl in pain.  I could feel all the nerves in my torso screaming at me to do something, which I had to ignore.  
The other irons were shortly applied, 6 numbers in total.  The whole time, I took it while screaming in pain.  Raindrop was cooing at me brokenly, as though she was holding herself back from crying as she pet me slowly.  
"There we go, done.  He took it mighty well."  I tuned everything out as I collapsed in pain.  My knees slammed into the ground with a mighty thud, and my torso fell backwards.  That had hurt more than when they'd inserted my artificial limbs.  That truly hurt.  
Raindrop was petting me, and saying something that I couldn't hear.  Not because I had decided to shut off my ears, but because I had finally gone numb, and wasn't thinking. At all.  At least it dulled the pain a bit.


*The Weekend*
My burns had finally scabbed over, and had begun to heal.  It didn't really hurt, but it did itch.  I constantly had to stop myself from scratching, and every time I exercised they cracked open.  
The one thing I did end up enjoying was that I wasn't fighting on a constant basis, and Raindrop and I spent more time together.  Classes about being a guard and a soldier, PT, and combat training more or less took up our whole schedule.  First night though, I'd had a nightmare and jumped awake so ridiculously, it had woken her up.  She saw how terrified I looked, and instantly dragged me into the bed with her.  What baffled me was after that, no nightmares.  
Now we were walking to her home, which still confused me.  She didn't have a weekend pass, and somehow she was still allowed to go home for the weekend.  Boot camp for me never involved a free weekend at all.  
Shortly after leaving, she did me an incredible favor, which she wasn't even aware of being a favor.  She bought me pants, and thank God for that.  I'd spent three years mostly in the nude for all to see, and finally I could maintain some dignity.  It was a good thing too, some of many of the ponies we passed gave me some very lecherous looks.  It was clear that their minds were in the deepest, dirtiest gutter in the world.
It reminded me all too much of how insurgents would look at me and my guys whenever we were going through a village.  We all knew they'd be shooting at us later, but we couldn't do anything until they started shooting at us.  It also reminded me of the rapings.  Every part of me shuddered with unease and disgust.  
The walk through the city was otherwise uneventful.  I still stood in awe of the buildings.  I'd spent the greater majority taking part in combat which would wreck most buildings in the area, so seeing what they managed to create was still something I could admire.  
Slowly, the city became less and less beautiful until it we had entered what looked like a slum.  Does she live here?  It's still better then where I've been, but this is still sad to see.  The ponies in this area seemed more friendly than those in the better areas though.  They usually smiled and waved at us, some coming up to talk with Raindrop or pet me.  They didn't pet me for long, since I'd do it right back, and they'd get lost in my "magical" fingers.  They seemed all to much like cats when I started petting them.
I also met a lot of other humans too.  They were much more docile then I was used to.  Whenever one of the ponies that had a human with them started talking with Raindrop, their human would investigate me.  Usually being stared at, but sometimes they would touch my arms and the metal supports for them on my chest and make odd cooing sounds as they did so.  I didn't stop them, since it was very strange to see them acting this way for me.  Usually, humans would back away from me terrified, or try to kill me.  In a way, I kind of liked it.  No longer was I the death machine humans saw me as.  Just another human, albeit one that looked strange.
Finally, we reached what I guessed was her home.  An apartment building made of brick that looked worse for wear.  Parts of the walls looked as if they'd been scorched by fire at some point.  We climbed some stairs inside until we were on the top floor, and she opened the door to her home.  
"Ok boy, we're home!"  She said cheerfully to me.  I didn't really have any place to argue.  If I was safe, warm and fed, I didn't really care where I was given a home.  Anything was better than that hellhole fighting circuit.
Louder, and to ponies I couldn't see yet, "Hey everypony!  I'm back!"  
Hooves scampered across the floor as two much younger colts raced into view.  They didn't look much like Raindrop, but they were happy to see her.  Then they looked at me.
"Whoa!  That human looks really cool!" They said together.  Instantly, they spread their wings, and used them to leap onto me.  I was caught by surprise, barely having any time to flinch as they grabbed hold of my arms and started climbing their way up to my shoulders.
Fucking hell.  I thought these were ponies, not monkeys!  I thought humorously.  
"Get off of that thing!" A new voice yelled, "It could attack you at any moment!"  I looked away from the two colts hanging from my shoulders to look at a green mare who was looking at me, horrified.  
The kids voiced their complaints, but still obeyed.  To help them out, I crouched down to make the distance down a little shorter.  
"Mom, you know not all humans are aggressive.  He's been nothing but a sweetheart to anypony that was nice to him."  Raindrop countered.
"Really?!  Look at those scars!  Do you think anything with that many would be safe to be around?"  She yelled.
I almost rolled my eyes at this.  Many things could get terrible scars and be abused their whole lives, yet still be decent creatures or people.  Dogs and cats came to mind.
Raindrop groaned, "Mom, he's been assigned to me to be my guard human.  He's been with me the better part of the week, and he hasn't done anything besides sit with me and run during our PT sessions.  Take it easy."
Her mother huffed, "Fine, but you will tie him up outside.  I won't have it doing it's business on the floor, and I want him away from the boys, and especially away from the foals!"  
The young boys moaned, one putting words into his complaint, "But he's so cool!  Besides, he doesn't mind, right boy?"
I slowly blinked in his direction.  One of the few ways a human could show care without contact, that I knew of, was blinking slowly.  Raindrop, who'd been studying humans since she got me, took notice.
"Hey, mom, you know how cats show how they're happy by blinking slowly?  It applies to humans too, and Achilles just did it."
Again, the mother huffed, but she didn't say anything further.  Instead, she turned around, and left.  The boys decided that was permission to play with me, so they were instantly latched onto me once more, babbling constantly over my artificial limbs and eyes.  
I paid little mind to them, and made my way over to the couch to lay down, carefully so as to avoid laying on top of them.  I yawned as I closed my eyes, and started falling asleep with the colts playing with my limp hands.

When I woke up, I was curled around the two boys who'd fallen asleep with me, covered in a warm, soft blanket.  I cracked open my eyes as I looked around.  On the other couch across from me was Raindrop, who was quietly mewing in her sleep.  I smiled at the cute display and simply rested, basking in the warm glow of warmth, comfort and peace.  It was a new feeling for me, one I hoped would never end.  I had a good owner, and her siblings who seemed to like me.  If only the mother was a little more receptive.  Still, it was like a little slice of Heaven, just for me.  


*Monday*
We were back at the training grounds.  Raindrop was standing besides me outside of the building I had been branded in.  I didn't know why we were here yet, since I was still asleep when Raindrop was given the order to take me here.
I hope it's not another branding.  I don't know how much more of that I'll be able to take.  I shivered as the memory rose up into my thoughts.  
Eventually, it was our turn.  We entered into the room, and were greeted by the same stallion who branded me.  
"You here to get his armor fitted?"  He asked.
Armor?  I don't really think I really need any.  Maybe for my torso and head, but I should be fine.  Although, a shield would be nice.  
Raindrop belted out, "Yes sir!" She sounded tired though, must not have gotten enough sleep last night.  I could understand why too.  The father of the household had come back after a business trip, and had grilled Raindrop for hours about me while also giving me several patience and aggression tests, waking me up to do it too.  
The stallion took my leash in his magic, and led me towards an armor rack.  He hummed in thought as he searched around for an armor set for me.  It was obvious that he would be having a hard time.  All the sets he had out were far too small for me.  After he did some digging into a storage chest, he pulled out a set that looked like it might fit me.  I was surprised by the appearance.  The armor looked near identical to that worn by Ancient Greek warriors.  More specifically, the Spartans.  
The stallion tried fitting it on me, but the metal supports for my arms jutted out too far.  They may be imbedded into my chest, but it still protruded out a bit.  After a few quick adjustments using his magic, the armor fit, and he strapped it onto me.  Then came the helmet, which while it did look like a Spartan helmet, didn't have the plume on top, but rather a metal fin that replicates the plume. This time, the piece fit rather well, and I could see fairly well past the nose guard and through the slits that allowed me to see.  On my own accord, I tightened the strap below my jaw to keep it in place, and with a little slight of hand, detached my collar that had begun to itch.  Next, he strapped on shoulder guards that nearly ran down to my elbows, bracers for my arms that did the same thing, and metal plates shin guards with an attached pair of sandals.  For my thighs and waist, he gave me a sort of skirt-like thing with long metal plates hanging down from the belt.  The stallion looked satisfied with my armor, but I wasn't. I didn't have a shield.  Looking around, I actually spotted a massive shield that was in near perfect proportions to a shield the Spartans would carry.  I walked over to it, ignoring the smithy' calls for me to stay, finally realized the collar was off.  I grabbed hold of the shield and examined it.  It looked sturdy, and it felt sturdy.  I lightly punched the shield in the center.  No dents, not even a scratch.  It was sturdy.  
I slipped my arm through the band that held onto my forearm, and grasped the handle.  I felt complete now, safer than the crappy armor I was strapped with in the circuits.  
I finally regarded the smith who was still yelling at me, demanding that I put down the shield.  He stopped when I looked down at him though, instead staring at me with saucer wide eyes.
"Oh boy, what have I gotten myself into?"  He asked, sounding mildly afraid.  I reached out with my free hand and patted him gently on the head.  Then, I walked off to the swords, leaving the smith looking stupified, and Raindrop trying to hold back a fit of giggles.  
The selection of swords he had weren't too bad, though most of them were designed for ponies.  A few were the perfect size for me, most notably, a Kopis, which was another Ancient Greek design which the Spartans relied on if they lost their spear in combat.  This, I claimed for myself with the sheath and belt that accompanied it. 
After attaching the belt, I drew out my new sword.  It was truly a sinister blade.  The metal was black in color, hardly shining off any light.  The base of the blade was more or less straight, until the latter half of it dropped in for the slight curve to a sharp point.  Under my helmet, I smiled.  I twirled the sword back and forth a bit in my fingers and hand, feeling the weight of it through my arms.  It felt right, like I would be hard pressed to find a better sword.  I grunted in satisfaction before sheathing the blade at my hip.
Turning, I saw Raindrop and the smithy staring at me in wonder, the forges' light dancing across their fur and sparkling in their eyes.  I could only imagine what I looked like, a giant compared to them dressed in mostly Spartan armor, staring down at them with glowing red eyes.  
I stood there, waiting for one of them to make a move.  Neither did for a few moments, until the smithy addressed Raindrop, "You know, I think that maybe he should keep that shield and sword.  Even the minotaurs would have a hard time fighting him, especially with that enchanted shield."
Enchanted?  Like D&D enchanted?  Wonder what this has then.
Conveniently, Raindrop voiced my question for me, "What enchantment does it have?"
"It was enchanted to be heavily resistant to attacks that strike the shield, so you will be hard pressed to find a weapon that could dent it."
Nice!  Oh boy, I'm gonna have some fun with you!  I thought to my shield.  In the few fights I'd been given a shield, they had been made of ancient wood that easily splintered, often times falling apart before the fight was over.  This time, I wouldn't have to worry about it.
Raindrop whistled, "He's going to be a fricking juggernaut on the battlefield then!"  
"Indeed he will be."

*Three weeks later*
The rest of training didn't have much of note.  The ponies trained in combat, at one point me somehow convincing the ponies to spar with me using wooden weapons without giving myself away.  Surprisingly, for being trained in combat, they were rather easy to beat.  Although, it wasn't exactly fair since I used my shield.  
Today, we were attending a graduation ceremony.  OUR, ceremony.  Raindrop somehow managed to get her hooves on a decorational spear for me to carry.  It looked as though it had been made of bronze, lightly decorated with some jewels.  I didn't like the looks of it, mostly since I doubted it would be any good in a combat situation.
We stood at attention in formation stock still.  The pony overseeing the ceremony was giving a speech on how we had the honor of being Equestria's greatest force of strength as the elite guard.  For the first time, I knew what this crazy country was called, and what force this was.  
He babbled on for a while until he left the stage for a massive white horse with wings and a horn that wore a humble crown.  She smiled warmly at the assembled guards, although I couldn't help but slightly cringe.  I could feel how strong she was, and the ponies bowing to her didn't make me feel any better.  
She spoke softly with warmth and love about how proud she was, and how she would be honored to be our commander in chief.  This calmed my nerves a little.  My Colonel back home had said similar things, only with much less emotion.  This one, she seemed to mean what she said with how much emotion she let break through mostly through her words, but also with how she said every word with love.  
The last thing she said though, chilled me, "I wish you all the best of luck when we go to war with the Minos Isles."
> Chapter 4: Origins
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

*Year of 2035*

The readiness alert was blaring, demanding us to prepare for yet another mission.  This was par for the course for Hell Divers, one of the most combat versatile and elite forces that the United States Military could assemble.  Shock and awe Storm Troopers that were trained and equipped to attack nearly any enemy held position.  Bunker blasting grenades, assault rifles designed to be some of the most dangerous weapons a man could carry, armor that could protect the wearers' body and head from most dangers of the battlefield, brutal trench weapons for close combat, lightweight combat shotguns, and the most fearful of all, a mental fortitude that allowed them to charge into battle without the slightest of fear.
And Scott was one of them.  He'd been fighting for nearly 8 years in the war.  He was scarred over badly from when he'd been shot where his armor didn't protect him, but thanks to the medical attention of the staff, he'd been cleared to go back to combat.  
Today, they were gearing up for the final push.  China.  The Chinese had become a monster of economic prowess and influence, which scared most of the world.  They held territory that they had more or less extorted for all over the world.  Before the war, many countries had been discussing a war to take them down a notch.  Then the Chinese Communist party decided that they had enough territory and military forces that they could take the world.  So the world no longer had to discuss attacking China, they were forced to defend themselves from them.  
China quickly took over most of the Middle East, Indonesia, the Eastern countries of Africa, Southeast Asia, Alaska, parts of Canada, the Easter parts of Russian, and launched an invasion from their territory once known as Belgium and the Netherlands.  That was when they found it much more difficult to advance, as the countries they were invading had managed to set up a string of defensive lines to hold them back. 
Slowly but surely, the Chinese were pushed back once American forces started bolstering the defensive lines and the commanders constructed sound counterattacks.  
This took Scott and the Hell Divers all over the world.  Largely, they were successful, taking strategic points that the standard units couldn't.  However, it came at a tremendous cost.  No unit held the same casualty count that the Hell Divers suffered.  Most soldiers in the unit survived an average of three missions before either being too wounded to continue service, or dying outright.  
Scott had survived since the beginning of the war when he was 16.  He'd registered under his brothers' name, and was quickly found out.  When the Court Martial came, Scott had stunned the Military Court with his reasoning for trying to enter.  He believed that in this great time of need, that every able bodied man and women was needed to help in the war effort, and he couldn't think of a better way then to serve on the front lines, and help in the fight.  He found it wrong that someone as capable as himself to be held back from serving only because of his age.  
After several long discussions with Congress and the overseeing Judge, a decision was finally made.  The law was changed so that if someone 16 and older and physically fit, they were allowed to join the military for active duty.  However, as punishment for not following the law before it had been changed, Scott was assigned to the newly formed Hell Divers.  Scott didn't know it at the time, but he was in for a rude awakening to the brutality that would be required of him.  
Scott was getting his gear together.  Combat pants, undershirt, combat jacket and boots?  Check.  Knee pads, armor plating for the chest? Check.  Ballistic weave with wire frame neck warmer?  Check.  
UNI Helmet? Check.  He finished up his check of gear with this pack.  Noting that everything was there, he moved on to the weapons check.  There was the anti-tank grenades that was more commonly used on bunkers, the AT-38 which looked much like the German M-24 anti-tank grenade.  Next were his general purpose frag grenades, smoke grenades, automatic rifle, combat shotgun, bayonet, trench club, and lastly, his sidearm.  He stored as much ammunition that he could carry, and nodded in satisfaction.  He was ready to attend the attack meeting, and do what needed to be done.
Scott made his way to the airfield hangers, where he knew that they would be having the meeting.  He was looking for hanger A-113, which was so named mostly as a joke since the pilot was a fan of Pixar.  
The airfield was particularly more active today, bombers lifting off to bomb strategic targets, and others landing from their missions.  Many of the landing aircraft sported damage from enemy fighters and anti-air emplacements.  
When he arrived, Scott noted that about half of the battalion was there, so he felt that he was comfortably on time.
"Where the Hell have you been old timer?  We were wondering if you passed away in your sleep!"  One of the guys in his unit yelled jokingly.  Scott was one of the oldest members of the force at 24, and currently held the record of most missions partaken in.  That being 56, and he was looking to keep it going until the war ended.  
He took the joke in stride, laughing good humoredly at the joke at his expense as he joined in the group.
"Here I thought I was on time.  We still got half the battalion to show up."
"Nah man, haven't you heard?  We only getting half for this one.  Other half is working on something else." Another man corrected.
Scott rubbed his helmeted head in confusion.  Usually the entire battalion was sent in to deal with the problem, otherwise we wouldn't be needed.  What could possibly only need half a battalion of Hell Divers?
"You know where we're bringing fire and brimstone too?" He asked.
Everyone shook their heads.  "That's what we're sitting around with our thumbs up our asses for.  They're gonna tell us."
They were interupted by a man on a loudspeaker, "Now that we finally have everyone in attendance, we can begin.  Tomorrow morning at 0500, three hours before the rest of the invasion begins, you will be dropped by parachute from high altitude into China outside one of their Operations Centers.  The reason why the brass decided you were needed, is because it has been fortified to hell and back.  Minefields, bunkers, anti air, trenches, and there are a few reports of there being some tanks in the area.  It has come to the point where the brass decided that a finer touch was needed.  And by 'finer touch', they mean the hell you manage to bring to everywhere you touch."  Everyone laughed at the joke.  It was well known that the Hell Divers would wreck everything they were around when they were fighting.  From a bar fight to an actual combat zone, nothing was safe.
The briefer pulled down a map for them to see, "You will land here, and subsequentially rain hell on them.  You will be nearly 35 miles away from the border, and from any relief.  The Russians will be making the push into your direction, and the battalions heading your way have been informed about your mission and your uniforms so they won't shoot your asses.  Still, 35 miles away is a long distance from help, so they might take a day to a week getting to you, depending on how much resistance they come across.  If you get separated, and you need to figure out if someone is friendly, the key phrase is 'Who Can it be Now?', and the return phrase is 'Men at Work'.  Questions?"
From the back of the room, someone raised their hand, "Any air support?"
"Not likely.  They'll be more preoccupied with other fire missions."  The room erupted with nervous chatter.  Air support for something like tanks was a crucial need.  There were anti-tank missile launchers dispersed throughout the Hell Divers, but there was little guarantee that they'd be able to get a shot off.  That's why they prefered air support.  It was a more reliable, and safer approach to dealing with tanks for the guys on the ground.  
"However, the area has been bombed significantly in the days leading up to the invasion.  The bombers you've likely seen taking off and landing have been carpeting the area with bombs, hopefully taking out most of their heavy equipment.  The rest of what you need to know has already been dispersed to your lieutenants and sergeants.  Now, get boarded on your craft, and be ready to rain hell on those greedy fucks!"
The room erupted with, "HOOAHS!" as every soldier in the room found their unit, and followed their officers to the various planes.  Before boarding, they all put on their parachute packs over their combat packs, and took out their oxygen masks for the jump.  
Hurriedly, they made it on board, and the plane began to take off.  Every man and women does something before they entered combat to deal with the stress of knowing they were going to kill, and possibly be killed.  Some people prayed, some smoked, some tried to numb their minds to the world, others looked over the weapons, everyone had something.
Scott, he was taking it a bit worse than most, although the metaphorical and literal mask he wore prevented anyone from knowing what he was thinking.  See, having fought as much as he did, for so long, tends to damage people in their minds.  And the mind isn't designed to handle it.  All it can do is try to comprehend it all and alleviate the trauma and stress by thinking it all through, over and over again, until it finds a reason for it all to have happened.  And it was happening to Scott.  In his minds' eye, he was seeing all the violence and bloodshed he had witnessed, and taken part of from the beginning, all the way up to what he was about to do.  To say he was distraught didn't do justice to what he felt.  He was no longer the innocent boy he had been when he'd joined.  That part of him was long dead. What had been left behind was a damaged soul, desperately trying to hold itself together by any means necessary.  Slowly, he numbed his mind, refusing to think any further about the subject.
Having yet to put on his oxygen mask under his helmet, a sickly sweet scent infiltrated his nose.  The man next to him was smoking.  Every ration had a pack of cigarettes in them, and Scott usually used them to trade for food he liked better.  At this moment, however, he decided to say fuck it, and start smoking himself.  
One cigarette later and a lot of coughing, he was feeling significantly better.  He was feeling much more relaxed than normal, as though the smoke had taken it all away as he breathed it out.  He had finished just in time.  The red light blinked on, telling everyone that they were no longer allowed to smoke, and needed to put on their oxygen masks.  From that point on, everyone was bathed in the relative silence of the hold.  The only sound was that of the wind rushing past the hull, and the engines roaring.
After a few hours of waiting, the red light began blinking rapidly, alerting the men that they were nearing the drop zone.  Everyone stood up, checking the man in front of him to make sure his gear was secure.  The men crowded closer to the door that had been opened, and anxiously awaited the order to jump.  
Finally, the order came.  One by one, they jumped out as quickly as they could.  After 5 men had jumped, it was time for Scott to join them.  Like those before, he leapt out of the plane, quickly asserting a downward position to help him slice through the air.  In his head, he attempted to gauge the distance, though it proved to be near impossible with how high up he was.  Instead, he watched the others, waiting for them to open their parachutes.  The moment he saw the first black chute appear, he pulled his.  
His body jerked violently as the chute stopped his fall suddenly.  All he could do now was wait, and pray he didn't land in a tree or a body of water.  
As he neared the ground, he found that there weren't any bodies of water, and whatever trees that might have been there had been blown to smithereens long ago by the bombing mission.  
He landed heavily, missing one of the stumps by mere inches, and roles into a small hole.  He quickly ditched his parachute pack, and readied himself for an imminent attack.  Which didn't come.  Looking around, he didn't see anyone.  No friendly soldiers, no enemy troops, just the barren wasteland he was in.  In the far off distance, he could see, however, were search lights scanning the skies, looking for planes in the sky.  Figuring it was as good a direction as any to head off to, that's where he started walking, head constantly on a swivel, searching for friend or foe alike.  
For about an hour, he walked until he heard voices.  They were speaking in what sounded like English, but to be safe, Scott used the key phrase.
"Who can it be now?"  He asked just loud enough for them to hear.
The voices stopped for the return phrase, "Men at Work."  
Scott approached their position, and found a part of his platoon.  They were all huddled around a map, trying to figure out where they were.  
"That you Old Man?"  One of them asked.
"Yep.  What's the situation?"
"Well, we landed a too far south, and we're looking for the rest of the attack force.  Honestly though, we're far enough out that we could pick up more guys if we just headed off to attack the base."
"Eh, good a plan as any."  Scott said shrugging.
So after a little bit more planning, they headed off, advancing towards the base that was still two miles away.  They picked up more and more stragglers as they moved out until they had two and half full platoons, almost a Company.  
They halted their advance once they came across their first bunker.  It had taken a direct hit from a bomb, blowing it apart so badly that it resembled a pile of rubble.
They took note of their surroundings, and advanced again, Scott leading.  Unfortunately for the soldiers, the bomb had knocked down a warning sign that there was a minefield.  
Scott had taken no more than five steps in when a small object launched into the air.  A Bouncy Betty.   Scott barely had enough time to cry out in alarm before it detonated, forcing him backwards.
He was in extreme pain.  His arms and legs had been shredded to pieces by the shrapnel, and his visor had been shattered by the force, his eyes being rendered useless by glass and small bits of shrapnel imbedding themselves into his face.  Scott had little strength, barely enough to moan in his pain.  If it weren't for his armor that covered his chest (and on a smaller note, his groin as well) he would have been dead before he hit the ground.  
His unit stood in stupor at what had just happened to the veteran Hell Diver, the Immortal, as he lay on the ground in his own blood, moaning pitifully.  The medics quickly broke the stillness, and rushed to his aid.  As fast as they could, they started bandaging him, trying to save his life.


*Three Weeks later*
The doctor looked down at the crippled man that laid on the bed.  The man was horribly disfigured from his wounds.  His eyes had been rendered useless, and the doctors had been forced to remove them along with the arms and legs, which had developed gangrene.  
The poor man also suffered severe damage to his ears from being so close to the explosion.  It was highly likely, that he would be unable to hear.  If that wasn't bad enough, the man could no longer speak any more as well.  The armor he had worn had saved him from most of the shrapnel, but a particularly large piece had punctured through, and through some sort of poor luck, had missed all his arteries and wind pipe, just to damage his vocal cords.  If he wasn't mute, he would barely be able to make a sound.  
Even worse still, the man had been stupid enough to wear already damaged armor, which had failed to completely protect him as a fresh set would have.  He suffered damage to his liver, and parts of his small and large intestines.  The damage to his organs had been relatively minor, just a few stitches that would aid in his healing, except for his liver.  Nearly half of his liver needed to be removed, as it was too badly damaged to remain in his body.  Even some of his bones had been damaged.  His pelvis had several breaks from where the shrapnel had missed the armor, and many of his ribs had cracked from the pressure that the explosive had given off.
This man, was Scott the Hell Diver.  A survivor of years of war, who wouldn't be able to see the end of it.  The doctor wondered, for someone that was now so numb and oblivious to the world around him, would it be more of a mercy to just let him die?
He was unable to continue his line of thought, as a nurse gently interrupted his thoughts, "Doctor, his family is here to see him."
The doctor sighed wearily.  He hated doing this.  Showing families what had happened to their sons and husbands just for them to break down into tears.  
But it was something he had to do, they had a right to know, "Send them in."
What came next was something the doctor, unfortunately, had done many times before.  He offered his condolences, and told them the extent of the mans' injuries.  His heart clenched in sympathetic pain as his parents and brother openly wept over their fallen family.  


*One year later*
Scott had gone through a nightmare.  He could barely tell if he was awake, asleep, or dead unless he was being touched by someone.  He could no longer do much of anything, forced to rely completely on his caregivers, who he couldn't even tell was his family or nurses.  For a long while, he couldn't even remember who he was or what had happened.  But as the days ticked by, his memory returned, only for the torture to worsen even more.
He spent most of his days praying for death or a miracle to let him at least see what was going on.  One day, however, someone had put earbuds into his ears, and played music as loud as it could go.  Just faintly, ever so faintly, Scott could hear something.  It was music, music he recognized as what his father had played on the car speakers.  When he was younger, he had never really cared for it, but now, he had a new appreciation for it.  It was the only thing he had heard since the attack, and it was one of the few things that kept him sane.  When he wasn't listening to music, he was humming through some of the songs he'd heard and were stuck in his head, although to everyone else, it sounded as if someone was trying to choke him. 
Finally, the miracle Scott had been praying for finally arrived.  An old, and wealthy man was coming to his final days.  He had lived a long, and prosperous life, but in his last days, he realized he had done little good for anyone else, and he did not believe that providing jobs and bolstering the economy counted.  
He sought to do something good for someone else, and Scott was the first person he found that he believed truly needed help.  His parents had put up a "Go Fund Me" page to try and get donations to help their son, and the old man knew what must be done.
During his long life, he had made several connections to those in the medical field who specialized in artificial prosthetics, and who owed him favors.  After a few discussions, pulling every string he could and paying out handsome amounts of money, they agreed to go forth with giving the young man a life again. Within days, the doctors began to work on restoring broken man. 
When they first read his medical charts, they were surprised he had survived at all.  They assembled a plan, of sorts, to restore him.  The artificial ears, legs, liver, eyes, and a voice modulator would be the easy parts.  The real problem existed in his arms.  
You see, while Scott was a good soldier, he wasn't a man who would do well in an office environment.  As a soldier, he had struggled with the little paperwork he had been given.  He was more of a labor worker.  That meant lifting heavy things.  
If they were to install arms to accommodate this, the arms would put immense pressure on the rest of his body, and could possibly rip themselves off of him if he moved the wrong way while applying force.  
Their solution was to fortify his bones with metals, and to make a complex mechanic rig that was imbedded into his chest to act as support for his arms.  They paid special attention to his back, doing all they could to stimulate his muscles to be strong enough to withstand the pressure, and to his bones to not shatter.  
After weeks of working, they finally finished with one of the most important things Scott needed.  His new eyes.  For the first time in a year, he could finally see.  He cried as he clutched his family, unable to form words in his happiness to finally see them again.  
Scott quickly learned how to walk and run again, and how to hold things without breaking them with the sudden increase to his grip strength.  It took longer, however, to learn activities that required dexterity of the fingers and hands.  His robotic hands could rotate a full 360 degrees, and he was unfamiliar with controlling his appendages naturally as he had his normal limbs.  But he learned.  
Scott was whole again.
> Chapter 5: What You See
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be given a physical like a dog in a vet?  No?  Well, neither have I, which was exactly why I was trying my absolute best to remain as still as possible.  
Raindrop had seen fit to get a second opinion on my health.  Maybe to learn more about me, maybe as an endeavor to care for me, or something else.  I didn't know.  I just knew that there were cats, dogs, birds, lizards, and other humans in the same room, making as much noise as possible, and to drown it out, I'd copped out and turned my ears off.  
Some of the humans were eying me curiously, trying to figure out what I was with all my machinery.  The dogs were all barking at one another or at the cats, and the birds were all squawking in alarm.  One funny bird was using several colorful words at a dog that wouldn't leave it alone.  I caught some of its' choice words before I shut off my ears.
"Fuck you!  Twat!  Bloody dog!  Fuck.  Fuck you!"  It said with it's scratchy voice.  I had to suppress a chuckle.  Apparently, it's owner was quite expressive, and was trying very hard to get the bird to shut up using similar words.  Much to the chagrin of the others in the room.
At one point, a black Lab had gotten away from it's owner to come barking at me, wagging it's tail playfully.  It seemed ecstatic when I had held out my hand for it to sniff, and after a quick lick, pounced on me to lick my face.  
Every owner in the room gasped, including Raindrop.  I didn't know much from my years in the arena how humans acted around dogs, but this seemed to be enough proof that humans didn't seem to like dogs.
I didn't care.  I loved dogs!  I twisted my neck so at most it could only lick my jaw and exposed neck, and started to pet it.  On the edges of my vision, I could see the ponies staring in shock, but slowly calm down and go back to their business.  
The owner, a scrawny Earth pony, scrambled up after his pet to pull it off me, and attach a leash.  I turned on my ears again to hear what was going to be said.
"I'm SO sorry miss!  Nick doesn't usually get this excited around humans."  He apolized quickly.
It took Raindrop a second to stop staring at me before she answered the pony, "It's alright, I'm just surprised that Achilles took it so well.  The book I was given on humans said that they don't tend to interact well with dogs, even if the dog was being friendly."
That's just sad.  So much for mans' best friend.  I scratched the dogs' ear one last time before resuming my position.  
"Raindrop?"  A new voice asked.  The owner was a tall unicorn, carrying a clipboard in his magic.  
Raindrop answered, bid farewell to the Earth pony, and tugged me along deeper into the office.
"So tell me about your human."  The vet said with a very businesslike tone as we walked.
"Well, I guess the first thing that comes to mind is his weird armor and eyes.  No pony can seem to get them off of him, and it seems to hug his skin tightly.  His eyes are kind of creepy.  You can see them even in the dark.  One night I had a nightmare and woke up to him petting me.  But I looked at his eyes first, and kind of... panicked."
The vet quirked an eyebrow, "How so?"
Raindrop wilted as she remembered that night. I did too.  Third night training with her, she'd had a nightmare and slugged me so hard I was left groaning and blinking on the ground, trying to remember my own name.  I didn't hold it against her though.  Seeing something with devilish eyes staring at you, even with worried concern, would scare anyone.
I scratched behind one of her ears hoping it would make her feel better, "I... hit him.  Hard."  The regret dripping from her words made me want to give her a hug, but this was probably one of the worst situations to do so, so I just gave her a few more scratches that she seemed to enjoy.
The vet stopped in his tracks so suddenly, that we actually walked past him.  Even I didn't notice.  
"So you're saying that you hit your human?"
"Yes.  I'm not proud of it, and I repeatedly apologized to him even though he can't understand," Oh, I understand alright.  Don't you worry, "but he just wrapped me up in a hug, and started petting me.  After, he recovered from being stunned that is."
The vet was staring at me with amazement, "Incredible.  No human has ever tolerated something like that before!  Where did you find him?"
"In boot camp.  I'm a human handler for the guard.  His file said he had come from a human fighting circuit, in a match against a retired guardspony."
The vet did a complete 180 in facial expressions, taking a step back with the most comical look of fear I'd ever seen.
"Is he... safe?"  He whispered out.  Seriously, why was he whispering?  Ponies didn't think I was intelligent, so why whisper?  
Raindrop scoffed, "Safest human I've ever seen.  It's almost like he knows how to behave like a pony and it's uncanny how well he can read a situation.  Only, you know, more animalistic.  He's great with my little brothers, and pretty much every other animal he's come across.  Although, he acts kind of strange to weirdest of things."
"How so?"
"Pretty much anything that makes a sudden loud noise.  One weekend I was with my parents, and dad let the wind from outside slam the door slam shut loudly.  Achilles was falling asleep when it closed, and he jumped so badly that he fell over the side of the couch, and went into a fetal position and whimpered.  
"Even with normal loud noises that he can see happening makes him flinch and whince.  Then there are the ponies who give him... uh... looks, like they want him in a bad way.  He actually cringes and shivers whenever anypony gives him that look, even if he can't see them.  Then there's how he is with the guards.  If one of them is holding a weapon, he has his eyes on them, and clenches his fists.  The weird thing is though, in one of the matches he was in against the guards, he went easy on them.  There were multiple times he could have beaten them over the head unconscious with the sparring sticks, yet he held back.  What do you think?"
I give credit to the vet.  He obviously had no idea, and he said, "Honestly, I haven't the slightest idea what to think.  No human in recorded history acts like he does.  What does he do on normal basis?"
Raindrop shrugged, "He's either staring off into space, or sleeping if we aren't doing anything.  I would think he'd be doing... something.  But unless somepony is trying to interact with him in some way, he doesn't actually do anything."
Yep.  And it's sooo boring!  Seriously, can we at least toss a ball around or something?  Hell, I'd even settle for fetch.  Training was kind of nice, but that only lasts in the moment, and there's very little interest in it for someone who's got fake limbs that don't wear out.
"Well, I'd suggest trying to do something physical with him, like fetch, or going on walks.  Anything to stimulate him.  Ah, we're here."  
We entered a room that looked exactly like a veterinarian exam room back home.  A table in the center of the room, a few chairs, and a bunch of cabinets.
"Well, let's see if we can figure out something about those appendages of his.  C'mon boy!  On the table."   
I barely heard him.  I was paying attention to something else.  When I'd been dragged through the door, two ponies had been staring at me rather intensely.  The part that was worrying me, was that they were soldiers of the last owner I had.  He'd had the brilliant idea of keeping guards on me in shifts to try and get me to be more passive to them, and they were regulars.  Second shift if memory serves correct.  Just to be on the safe side, I tuned my ears up to hear a little bit better.  What I'd heard were two sets of hooves following us, and they were on the other side of the door.  
"Just grab and go, then we get paid."  One of them said.
"What about the owner and the veterinarian?"  The other voice asked.
"Nothing unless they try to stop us.  If they do, just rough 'em up a bit and run with Achilles."
"Got it.  You think he'll come with us willingly?"
"If he's as smart as he should be, then he will."
Shit, forgot they knew.  The door slammed open to reveal the two ponies, small blades drawn.  Pathetic.
Before anyone could react, I sprang at them, punching the first so hard that his teeth shattered around the knife.  The other yelped, and plunged the knife.
I growled in the familiar pain, pain I'd gotten to know over the years.  It wasn't like the movies, where you go down immediately clutching your guts.  In real life, adrenaline is the most essential thing.  It dulls or hides the pain long enough for you to keep going. That is, if you had the time to get it pumping.  I was caught in the middle.  Some pumping, but not enough to hide it all.  
I twisted my body, ripping more flesh against the knife, to deliver an elbow to the earth pony's neck that crunched nastily.  The pony fell to the floor, only able to look around with his eyes, and he was staring into my eyes.  
I stared back, and with fluid motion, yanked out the bloody knife.  I held it up to see, and I was even more disappointment than I was before.  It was tiny, but curved and serrated.  
Pain erupted from my back from a well placed buck.  I staggered forwards, turning to see the other pony I'd punched.
His smile was broken by the teeth I'd broken and knocked out, blood trickling down his muzzle, "I've got to admit Achilles, you've softened up.  What happened to The Red Eyed Devil from the arena?"
He was talking to me, in the open.  Something that the boss was vehemently against.  He believed that if news leaked out that they had a talking human, the government would try harder to get them to acquire me.  Didn't work out anyways.  
"What's the matter? Cat got your GUH-!"   The pony was given a powerful right cross by sweet, sweet Raindrop.
Your timing is perfect. 
I was feeling a little better, until I saw the look in her eyes.  She was... terrified.  She looked into my eyes, and I knew she was afraid of me, what I'd just done, what she saw me do.  I knew why too.  
Up until now, she'd never seen this side of me before.  All she ever knew of me was the quiet human that always seemed to be scared, and showed affection to ponies.  She just witnessed me turn a 180 into a violent animal.  
I need to reassure her or something.  Do I... no.  Not now.  She's beyond scared right now, and I'll just make it worse.  Best I can do is sit and wait.  
I did just that.  I took a seat, and watched what happened.  Raindrop got the doctor to get the guards and some other doctors to care the ponies and me, and we were left alone.  
"What in Tartarus was that?"  Raindrop asked herself.  I wanted to answer.  I really did.  But I didn't know if I should or not.  Besides, this wasn't the place, nor the time to reveal myself.  There was no telling when the doctors would be here, and whether or not they'd come in while we were talking, and I didn't like the thought of doctors knowing that they had an intelligent human on their han- err... hooves.  Too much risk involved in it.  No, wait for some other time we were alone.
And I was right, the doctors were there just as I thought it through.  Guards not too far behind.  The ponies were arrested, and were given some quick field care before they were moved.  The same pony from before examined me, and started patching me up.  Cautiously and carefully, like he was trying to defuse an active nuclear bomb on a timer.  But all his care just made him shaky, accidentally tugging roughly.  
Ok, time to be an actor.  Ma always said I was good at it.  I yawned wide, cracked my neck, and let my chin rest against the metal on my chest, snoring ever so quietly.  
It seemed to work.  The doctor believed it.  He calmed down significantly, his needlework becoming much smoother and less frenzied.  He didn't cause any more pain than necessary by the time he finished.
When he was done, I lifted my head up, and opened my eyes.  It was still just the three of us.
"Ok, now that that is out of the way, let's get on with the examination.  Let's start with the obvious, and find out a little more about those arms."  His horn lit up, and a soft silver glow wrapped around my arms.  The vet had his eyes closed, obviously concentrating.  
"This is... disturbing."  He opened his eyes, and stopped the spell, "It appears that, he doesn't have any arms.  I mean, flesh and blood, that is."  He said.
Confused, Raindrop asked, "What do you mean?"  
"The spell I used is designed to seek out bone, and to give me an image of what it looks like.  Experienced human breeders are able to tell the age of humans based on most bones in their body, and since I'm not, I use the spell.  However, there wasn't any bone there at all.  I examined his arm all the way to the socket.  It was difficult, which it shouldn't be, but I managed to detect the bone of his socket.  So I didn't make a mistake in the spell.  It would appear, that his arms are artificial."
"W-what?"
"He doesn't have his real arms.  Either somepony removed them, or they were never there to begin with.  What confuses me is that I can't detect any magic in him, period."
"But doesn't everything have a little magic in them?"
"Everything but him, it would seem.  Well, with that mystery cleared up, let's take a look at his eyes."  He took out a microscope, and held it up to my left eye, examining it intensely while also using his magic, blurring my vision slightly.
"It would appear that it is the same situation with his eyes.  They aren't real either.  They're mechanical as well.  They have some magical tampering,but they aren't the reason behind his eyes being mechanical.  Magic performed in rage is manipulating the coloration of the mechanic parts, turning them black and red."
"You've lost me.  Doesn't all magic act the same way every time?"
"Goodness no.  Emotions play a great deal in how magic is performed and executed.  A pony who uses magic with positive or neutral emotions often come out exactly how it was intended to be used.  But when you add anger into the mix, there are abnormalities since anger or hatred are such volatile and chaotic emotions.  When embuded on an object, they often display the feelings of the pony that cast them.  A pony was angry when they used their magic on him, and if manifested in his eyes.  Which, by the way, I can't believe actually work if what you say is true."
"Do you know why his eyes and limbs are missing?"  Raindrop asked.
"For his arms, I can't tell.  It's all hidden by metal.  But for his eyes, look at the damaged skin around them.  I think that he was hit by a large amount of shrapnel, and was wearing a helmet at the time I believe.  You see how the scars follow a border?"
Raindrop looked at me again, this time without fear.  It looked like, sadness.  Maybe sympathy even.
"What about the rest of him?"  She asked with a steely voice.
The doctor tilted my head up, apparently having found his confidence.  He furrowed his brows here and there as he continued his examination.  Finally, he reached my waist.  He undid the button on them and tugged them out from under me, leaving my ass on the cold metal table.  His eyes grew wide when he looked at my junk, but quickly looked away to examine my legs.  He pulled back some skin, and looked at where the body met machine.
He was silent for awhile as he restore my dignity with my pants, prompting Raindrop to ask a question, "What's wrong doc?"
He held his head low, and answered, "You're human should be dead right now."
Raindrop hesitated to ask, "What do you mean?"
"He's been through severe trauma.  His legs show that they had been severely damaged by the tale of his scars, suggesting that he hurt violently.  If I had to guess, his arms were lost at the same time as well. 
"It would also appear that he's been wounded many times by weapons that cause severe damage.  The wounds tell a horrifying story of extreme pain.  Something pierced his flesh on one side, and exited leaving an even larger exit wound.  There is a surgical scar laying over a more natural scar over his threat which would suggest that he wouldn't be able to make any sound, which he has disproven in the fight.  He also has signs of burns in many places, and then there's a significant sign of long term sexual abuse.  His genitals show signs of extreme, long term drug usuage that forces males of most kinds of animals and intelligent beings alike to have a forceful erection.  It's a highly illegal drug, because prolonged usage disables the users' ability to reproduce naturally, as in no natural erection.  Users also find that any offspring usually result in miscarriages, or horrible disabilities and disorders.  It would take years for the effects to wear off and for the user to successfully have children again, unless they use an artificial process.  
"In my professional opinion, your human has been abused beyond imagining.  Humans that have suffered less, had in most cases lost the will to live.  Others became uncontrollably violent, and had to be put down.  But this, is a special case.  Like you said before, he shows incredible restraint.  I just don't know how much restraint he has left."  Raindrop was looking at me worriedly again.  Thanks a lot doc.  
"I'll send my notes to your address, where you can do as you like."
"Thank you sir.  I appreciate this."
"Your welcome, just... be careful."
With that, we left the vet's office.  We went straight home with some painkillers for me that she would no doubt try to sneak into my food like people would with their docs or cats.  The walk gave me plenty of time to come up with a decision about telling her.  And I came to a decision.
When we finally arrived, Raindrop flopped onto the couch, and groaned, "What a day.  An attack, and then hearing all that?"  She stared at me with tires eyes, "What happened to you boy?"
Well, it's now or never, "Do you really want to know?"
> Chapter 6: Revalations
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"What happened to you boy?"
Well, it's now or never. "Do you really want to know?" I knew that her family was out at a museum, so I was pretty confident they'd be out long after this was over.
Our eyes locked.  I stared blankly at her, and she stared at me with shock, which slowly built into the most irritating thing I couldn't help but hate.  Fear.
She screamed, grabbed the lamp on the corner table, and chucked at me.  I caught it, sort of.  Damn thing was made of that fragile ceramic shit that shatters when it hits something hard.  When it shattered, the pieces sprayed in my face.  Thank you doctors for sturdy metal eyes.  
"Fucking hell!  Calm down!"  I yelled.  She screamed again, and grabbed something else.  A fricking coffee mug.
"What is this?"  She rhetorically asked, after throwing it at me.
I ducked under it, holding my hands up, "Me trying to tell you the mother fucking truth!  Now would you calm the hell down?" She threw a pillow at my face.  After ripping it off my face, "And would you stop throwing shit at me please?"
She backed away into a corner, hyperventilating, "What did you do with Achilles?!"
"I AM Achilles.  The same one you trained with, the same one you comforted when I had nightmares, the same one who chose you day one.  Look, just calm down, alright? And let me explain."
She slowly regained her normal composure, and stopped making me think she was going to have a heart attack, "Fine, but you owe me answers."
I tossed my hands up dramatically, "That's what this is about.  I think you deserve it.  First though, let's clean up.  If your family came back, they wouldn't be too happy to see crap all over the place."
She stiffened, her cheeks blushing as she realized her overreaction, "Y-yeah.  That's a good idea."

*A few minutes later*
I sat down on the couch with a cup of coffee.  The sweet, sweet caffeinated goodness that gives life to those who can apprieciate it.  After three years without it, I found it to be a wonderful, simple pleasure I could enjoy.
I figured we could probably do with a drink to A: relax Raindrop a bit, and B: break the tension in the air.  It had been quite amusing to see her reaction to me using all the kitchen appliances so quickly with such dexterity and smoothness, but she did calm down more.
I took a sip of my coffee, "You want answers, then ask away."  I took another sip.  The coffee tastes earthy, but not in a bad way.  It reminded me of how I used to prepare my coffee back home.
"How are you able to talk?"  She asked.
"Well you see, air travels through my throat, and-"
"Cut the crap!  You know what I mean.  How can you, a human, talk?"
I smiled.  I found it kinda funny how I so easily got to her with my inner snark.  Raindrop gawked at my smile.  I knew why, but it was funny all the same.
"Well, I ain't exactly the same kind of human that you see everywhere else.  Far as I know, I'm the only human from where I'm from.  I'm intelligent, but just how intelligent is still up for debate.  All the same, I can reason just as well as anyone can."
"Anyone?  Don't you mean-?"
"No I don't mean 'anypony'", I put big old air quotes on that, "I meant anyone.  For the life of me, I don't understand why you say anypony.  There are other species besides ponies, and to use anypony for everything just seems..."  I really didn't like using the word I was thinking, but it did fit, "racist."
I could literally see her becoming offended, "I'm not saying you yourself are a racist.  But saying everypony and so on and so forth is excluding every other species, like they don't hold the same merit.  Using 'one' instead of 'pony' recognizes that everybody is their own person, an individual.  I recognize you as a person, a mintotaur as a person, myself as a person, and every other creature that can talk as a person.  I know that saying pony instead of one is engrained into your culture and it isn't meant with malicious intent.  It's just how it looks to anyone else."
"Oooh.  I see your point.  I never thought of it like that."  She looked away with painful acknowledgment.
"Let's move on, next question."  I drank some more coffee.
"Why did you decide to reveal yourself to me?"
I smiled at her accidental inuendo, but hid it by taking another sip of coffee, "A number of things really.  We're going to fighting together, and soldiers like us are family.  Secrets like that aren't healthy for the family.  That, and I knew what those ponies said was going to start making some questions arise.  To be honest, I was thinking about holding out for a while, see if I could trust you.  But you stepped in on the fight, helped me out even though you just saw me inexplicably attack two ponies.  You chose to trust me, so I'm extending that to you too.  Besides, you'd probably figure it out eventually."
She smiled warmly, but she looked at me with a nervous expression, like she was afraid of what her question might bring, "What... how did... gerrr."
"I think I know what your trying to say.  What happened to me?"  She nodded, "Yeah.  I didn't want to sound insensitive about it."
"It's fine.  I've been asked that a lot, and I've gotten over it.  Well, mostly.  But with that comes a little bit of a backstory to it.  The thing is, I'm not from this world.  In the simplest of terms, I'm an alien."  She scrunched up her face in an awkward smile, "No, I'm not BSing you here.  From my world, the whole planet had been explored.  And my world was in a bloody conflict.  The Third World War."
"THIRD!! As in, there were two other world wars?"
"Yep.  The First World War was where traditional warfare didn't advance with the technology thanks to the generals and advisors, and everything was Hell for the soldiers fighting.  They spent months at a time fighting over the same territory, stuck in a stalemate.  The end of the war brought upon an economic depression for many countries.  Trade stagnated since many of the industrial leaders before the war were now crippled and geared for war instead of a civilian market. Germany, the strongest nation involved in the losing side, got hit the worst.  The French and the British, who were the victors, forced the German nation to pay reparations that devastated the German economy, and still required more than they could pay.  
"That gave one of the most evil men in history just what he needed to gain power.  Adolf fucking Hitler." I spat a lugey into a potted plant.  "He was a radical, which is what people flock to when they're desperate enough.  He was a racist, fucking madman who took over most of Europe, a densely populated continent, and nearly wiped out the two closest power players in the world."
"What stopped him?"  
"Everything.  Resource and manpower shortages, resistance fighters, poor planning, overextension, too many enemies, everything.  Eventually, they just didn't have what it took to win, and thank God for that.  My world would be a literal Hellhole if he won.  In the end, because of him and his allies, around 60 million people died."
"60 MILLION!  That's more than the ponies that are alive right now!  How many creatures live on your planet right now?"
"About 10 billion people, and it used to be a lot higher.  In the war I fought in, about two billion people died.  It was an absolute slaughterfest, especially for our enemy.  Anyhow, I volunteered into my military, and fought for years against our enemy.  It's a bloody miracle I fought for so long, and this," I gestured to my artificial limbs and eyes, "was all I physically lost."  The very suggestion of what I'd lost brought back all the friends that died.  People who had so much to live for after the war, all gone.
"I was in a special group of soldiers.  We fought in all climates, every situation, no matter the cost.  We never lost a battle, even if it cost us our lives.  I'm the longest survivor of that group.  Every original member I'd known in that group was either killed or wounded so badly they were crippled for life.  Everyone was scarred.  If not physically, we sure as hell were mentally.  
"My last mission was in the invasion of the enemy homeland.  There, a Bouncy Betty or S-Mine, exploded in front of me."
In my pause, Raindrop asked a question, "What's that?"
"An explosive device that waits until someone gets close enough, then launches a few feet into the air, and detonates, sending shrapnel and explosive energy through the air, killing or maiming anything in its' path.  Luckily, or unlucky for me, I was wearing some armor that protected my vital organs, but not so much my eyes... or throat."  I lifted up my chin to show her the scar, "One piece of shrapnel made me a mute.  The doctors back home had the technology to make artificial tissues to repair small scale damage, and continuously repair itself over time if it was damaged.  When I first came here, I was mute for a long time.  I think it was a year before I could talk again, but no one was really telling me how long it had been.  
"Anyhow, when my unit dragged me into a field hospital, I was already developing disease in my wounds, so they had to amputate.  The explosion also fucked up my ears.  So I was left blind, mute, deaf, and unable to move."
"Sweet Celestia."  She whispered, horror dominating her face as she looked down at her hooves.
"Yeah, I was left like that for too long.  I was totally devoid of sensation, only able to hear the loudest of sounds, not knowing where I was or who was caring for me.  Eventually, some doctors had pity on me, and performed surgery.  So now I have mechanical ears, enhanced vocal cords, metal limbs, fake eyes, and as a bonus, metal infused into my bones so they don't break as easy.  Plus a little extra here and there."
"So you're just as machine as you are human?"  She asked sensitively.
"Basically, yeah.  I'll admit, it's got it's perks, but it doesn't compare to my natural body."  I stared at my hand, imagining it as my real arm, clenching and unchlenching it.  I took another sip of coffee, and smirked as I had an idea.
Using her voice, "But I can sound like anyone I want to."
She leapt out of her seat in surprise, falling over the back of her chair.  I instantly burst out into laughing, even when a pillow met my face again.  Slowly, she joined me.
"Th-that's not funny!  I'm *snicker* laughing because you are!"  She said between laughs.
"Yes it is!"  We laughed for a little bit longer before we settled down.
"So, anything else?"
She wiped a tear away, "Yeah, what was war like on your world?  I can only imagine how different it must be."
I looked down at my feet, "It was Hell.  Describing it doesn't come close to how it really is.  But, I've learned a neat little trick that can help out with that."
"Huh?"  She tilted her head ever so slightly.  
"Since I've gotten here, there's a trick I developed to help me in hand to hand fights that stuns my opponent long enough for me to get the upper hand.  I show them my memories.  Would you like to see one?"
Her eyes lit up with a literal sparkle in her eyes, "Of course!  I'd love to see what another world looks like."
Prepare to be disappointed.  I thought.
I lightly touched my forehead against hers, and I opened up my mind to touch hers.

POV change: Raindrop

I felt odd.  I no longer felt the cushion below me, the air in my lungs, or even my own body.  Just this... nagging feeling that someone was watching me.
"Are you ready?"  Achilles asked.   
"S-sure.  Wow this feels odd."
All of a sudden, I could see.  I was in a metal boat, beating through the rough tides of the ocean, surrounded by humans dressed in strange clothing carrying even stranger objects in their hands.   I could feel the sway of the boat underneath my hoo- no. Feet.  I could feel the sway of the boat under my feet, the clothing against my skin, the freezing wetness of the water that sprayed over the side of the boat that chilled me to the bone, the heaviness of the helmet grinding down on my head.  
All around, I could hear a droning sound that Achilles told me were engines, and the shrieks of planes and rockets overhead.  Next to me, someone puked on themselves.
"Thirty seconds!"  Yelled a voice from behind me.   I tried to look behind me, to see who yelled, but instead, I looked down at the thing in my hands, and gripped it tighter.
I became extremely aware of my own heartbeat, and the echo of Achilles old thoughts as he prayed to his God that he would live through this.  I became more and more terrified after each time he repeated this prayer as I realized how scared he was.
The boat suddenly stopped, and the ramp was lowered.  As one, the humans and I yelled our lungs out as we charged forwards.  We were met with the angry retort of thunder.  Massive explosions erupted out of the earth, pelting Achilles' body with sand and dirt, while small puffs of sand were blown from the ground from unknown sources.  I dove behind a small dune of sand to catch my breath, and charged forwards again.  I saw a beach filled with metalworks that made no sense to me that humans were using as cover.  I saw a human male get his head blown off into a mess of gore when he peaked his head out, humans being ripped in half.  One soldier was missing an arm, and looking for it amongst the dead and wounded.  Men were crying out for help, for their mothers and fathers.   Humans choking to death on their own blood and vomit, finding death so quickly without a chance to save themselves.  I wanted to cry, but found that I couldn't.  
Some of the soldiers were firing back, though they usually didn't last long, and didn't seem to have any real effect.  Achilles though, he kept running forwards as fast as he could, ducking into cover when he found it.  Metalworks, sand, wrecked metal machines, whatever he could find.
He finally came up to a barbed wire blockade on a sand uprise, where some soldiers had found refuge.  He turned to one of the men who landed next to him.
"You got a banger?"  He yelled over the noise of thunder and explosions.
"In my bag!"  He yelled back.  Achilles proceeded to find several long tubes in the other humans' bag, attached them to each other, and shoved it into the sand just below the wire.  He pulled a string, and jumped out of the way.  
The explosion rocked the earth below me, rattling my teeth.  He stood up again, and charged through the opening to enter a trench.  He quickly fired off several rounds into another human, who wearing bad camouflage, with the object he held in his hand.  It was blue and white block camo that had no business on a battlefield.
He raced through the trenches, shooting every soldier dressed like that he could find.  One human got a lucky shot, which grazed the side of Achilles face from his eye to his ear, mangling it.  He came to a concrete bunker, and charged in. He shot every soldier in there, and moved on.
He came to another bunker, heavily guarded.  He dove for cover just as he was shot in the shoulder.  He growled in pain, but he didn't give up.  As he was reinforced, he chucked what he called a "grenade" at the enemy, killing some of them and destroying some of their defenses.  
He charged out of cover, along with his comrades, firing their weapons.  They were cut short when massive blasts shook the ground so violently that as they came within a breaths distance of one another, they fell to the ground.  
The memory became fuzzy, muddled and strange.  Colors fuzed and mixed, everything seemed to move at a snails pace.  Achilles drew out a wicked blade, and stabbed an enemy soldier in the throat, twisting it in a show of brutality.  He found his weapon, and started the fight all over again.

The battlefield vanished, and we were back in the living room once again, Achilles taking a seat on the couch, his head hung, as if a prisoner waiting to hear a death sentence.  
"Well, now you know."  He said solemnly.
I stared at him, mouth agape, tears streaming down my cheeks.  Before me, was a human.  An intelligent human that had been through an extremely violent event, who no doubt lost dear friends.  Someone who had stared death in the face, and rejected it to keep fighting.  
"H-... how many times did you have to go through things like that?"  I choked out.
Achilles flinched.  The idea of such a person flinching struck me as strange, until he answered, "So many I lost count.  I spent several years doing shit like that, at least one a attack every month, usually more though."
He looked absolutely awful.  Not in the sense that he was roughed up, but unimaginably distraught remembering things he must have buried.  Something stirred in my heart.  I went over and hugged him.
"Thank you."  He said hollowly.
> Chapter 7: Off to War We Go!
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I wasn't happy at all.  I was wearing what I estimated to be 70 pounds in armor, and standing on a moving train.  Even with hardened bones, it's hell on your back if you've gone through the abuse my body had.  
Top that off with waking up very early from a nightmare to hear crying babies, and the parents not waking up to comfort them.  So what did I do?  Oh yeah, I got up out of my very comfy, warm bed on the day me and Rainbdrop were shipping out, to go and try and put them to sleep.
It started with me just going, "Shhh," as warmly as a mother might, and when that didn't work, I held them humming a "Go to sleep" song.  The foals settled down, until I tried putting them back in the crib.  So I held the two again until they calmed down for a second time.  Not being an idiot, I knew they'd probably start whining once I set them down again.  But I still felt tired.  Solution?  Sit down with them until we fell asleep.  
I'll deal with the fallout later.  Sleep now.  I thought.
Later came back about 5 minutes later, when the mother came in.  I was almost asleep when I heard her gasp.  I knew it was her, but I still cracked open an eye.  The room was pretty dark, but I could still see her.  
She stood in the doorway, staring in horror at me.  Slowly, I got to my feet off the chair I'd been in, and walked slowly over to her.  Her eyes were as wide as saucers, but she calmed down as I gently laid the sleeping twins on her back.  
As soon as the babies were safely on her back, I passed her through the door, and went back into my room, curling up in my now cold human bed, which was like a dog bed, but a little bigger and more cushioned.  
Did I get any more sleep?  No, no I did not.  Cause I overheard the mother talking to her husband.
"I just found Achilles sleeping with the babies!"  She hissed.
"What!?  Are they alright?"
"Yes, yes they're fine.  I just... don't know what to make of that human.  It isn't normal.  You know how humans treat their own young!   Especially the males.  I'm glad that it's leaving, I just hope Raindrop comes back safely."
Now knowing I'd fucked up a bit in my dumb human act to the family, I was a little worried about them catching on.  Especially after they'd talked to Raindrop about the "incident".  I'd made it very clear to her that I didn't want ponies to know, and that she was a special case, but I was still nervous as hell that she'd tell them.  But she didn't, thank God.
So where was I?  Oh yeah!  On a train, miserable as fuck.  I'd sit, but there were so many humans and ponies in the train car that it wasn't possible.  
The train applied the brakes suddenly, jerking us all forwards suddenly.  I almost felt bad for whoever was feeling the combined weight of us all, but I was a bit pissy so I didn't care.
Someone yelled for us to disembark, so we did.  As it would seem, we'd literally reached the end of the line.  At least in my misery, I wasn't required to help unload all of our supplies with us.  That meant wagons upon wagons of food, a mobile smithy, and the command tents.  Everyone else was carrying their tents and supplies on the shoulders, except for the human handlers, they loaded their shit on their humans, who looked to be ready to collapse any second by the time dusk came.  At least Raindrop had the courtesy to ask me first.  Didn't do any favors to my back though.  
That's another thing that pissed me off any further.  We marched.  All day.  Nonstop.  Without breaks.  When I needed a piss I had to go to the side of the column, and piss to the side while walking.  The ponies looked at me with confused, yet also amused expressions.  If I needed to take a dump, I had to wait for dusk lest I be left behind.
Then there was the cheerfulness.  They joked and laughed like we were on a summer stroll instead of a march to war.  Raindrop knew better.  She'd requested to see more of my memories regarding combat, and knew the horrors of war.  In fact, she showed me some kind gestures by nuzzling my hands whenever she saw through my facade of trying to remain emotionless.  
Then there were the nights.  I suffered nightmares constantly and got little sleep.  Even with Raindrop kindly showing me the same support she gave me during training, I still had restless nights.  After four nights, the other ponies around me started to notice.  Which wasn't too hard to see, even with my helmet on.  I was slower, hunched over, and occasionally tripped over my own two feet.  If my helmet was off as I was apt to do since I felt like my head was being baked in an oven when I wore it, my eyes were barely cracked open, and there were noticeable dark bags hanging below them.  
They were very nervous around me, often whispering to each other their own theories about what could be wrong with me.  It didn't really do much to help with my growing anger.  What did help was one of the other soldiers giving Raindrop a bottle of Apple Whiskey, telling her to have me drink it.  She gave it to me the second she got it, and I proceeded to empty the whole Jack Daniels sized bottle right in front of the guy.  He looked almost horrified.  Glancing at the bottle, I saw the proof of the drink.  60 percent.  Didn't taste too bad.  Had the same burn as most drinks, but was oddly sweet, almost overpoweringly.  A few minutes later, I was swaying back and forth and trying to walk straight as we continued our journey.  I could hear the other ponies laughing a bit, but I was feeling better, almost happy.  So I didn't care.  Until the hangover came.  Now, I was used to drinking too heavily, but add the hangover to all my other issues, and I found myself growling to myself far too animalistically for comfort.  Mine or the ponies.
Finally, after two weeks of marching, we reached a stone bridge.  Just in time to see a mass of minotaurs on the other side.  Their armor reminded me of viking armor, that being chainmail, a metal cap that went down their snouts, and little else.  Mostly, they carried with them large axes, even compared to them.  A sparse few had swords and shields.  One thing they all shared in common, was their size.  
Now, I stood about a good foot or two taller than the average pony, and these guys were twice my height.  It struck me as odd, since the minotaurs I'd fought in the arena had been more my height.  Then it hit me.  I killed kids.   Fucking hell.  To be fair, I couldn't really tell at the time, seeing as that they had deep voices, and acted like men.  Not to mention I'd been fighting for my life.  Didn't help me feel any better though.
I noticed something else too.  They didn't carry a banner like we were.  That meant one thing.  These were our enemy, the Makriá Kérata.  The violent, xenophobic faction that had largely defeated the minotaur kingdom that reigned for centuries, and had invaded Equestrian territory.  Huh, finally learned something from Raindrop's mandatory classes.  Go figure.
We were given the order to set camp.  Thank you God.  It might be a bit of a stretch, but I felt like my back was going to snap if I had to walk one more day.  I dropped the bags, and fell face first into dirt, groaning in irritation.  Raindrop gave me a few compassionate pats on the back, and I could hear her rummaging around the bags to set up her tent.  Which reminded me of another thing.  I didn't get one.  The Department of Wartime Supplies didn't give tents to humans, just some thin blankets that did nothing of any real substance.  But at least I finally got some real rest, passing out in exhaustion after a few seconds.

~Next Day~
I woke up gently and slowly for the first time I could remember since... well, since before the war.  As I slowly came to my senses, I realized why.  Raindrop had huddled up against my back at some point, resting a caring hoof over my shoulder.  I idly wondered why I had a decent sleep compared to the other nights as I wiggled out gently, trying not to disturb her.  
Maybe it has something to do with having a tent over me?  Eh, doesn't seem likely.  Must be the sleep deprivation.  That seems more likely.  
I exited the small tent to see a beautiful sunrise rising above a distant mountain range, the snow on their caps giving off a few sparkles.  The only thing that could make this better would be the absence of a war camp that was slowly waking up.   
"Morning Achilles."
I jumped slightly, not expecting to hear Raindrop right behind me.   She giggled slightly as she came to stand beside me.
"Another wonderful sunrise by Celestia, isn't it?"  She asked.  I grunted in reply.  She'd told me a little about Equestria, including the part about Celestia being the one that manually rose and set the sun each day.  I didn't entirely believe her, and rose my objections.  
I was forced to believe her in part when she told me about how some ponies had rose their own objections to Celestia, and she had proven her power by making a deal with the lead naysayers.  If she could keep the sun from rising for a day, they would attest to the public that she did indeed control the sun.  If she couldn't, she'd abdicate the throne to a republic of voted representatives.  Needless to say, she did just as she said she would.  I remained skeptical, but acquiesced.  
"So, how do you feel about this battle?  Are you as afraid as I am?"  She asked.
In turn, I whispered, not trusting that we weren't going to be overheard, "Not really.  I've been doing things like this for years.  I'm more worried about you and the army."
"Come again."  She said, sounding almost offended.
"I read a few books about the minotaur culture.  They're a warlike culture, and their warriors practice fighting any chance they get.  They're very ready for combat, even if this is just a rebellion.  Add the fact that they are much larger than us in a bodily sense, and then compare us to that.  From what I've gathered, Equestria hasn't seen war since the pony tribes.  That means inexperienced commanders and soldiers.  Our training was remedial for a lack of a better term.  The hand to hand combat training was lacking, and our whole combat doctrine hasn't been tested in combat.  Don't get me wrong, it looks good on paper.  Pegasi dropping rocks and combat potions while harassing the enemy and earth ponies engage hand to hand with unicorn magic support, looks good.  But nothing is factually sound until it's been field tested."
"Ok, and why are you worried about me?  You saw how well I performed in combat training."
I sighed, "Because you're the only person on this planet that I actually care for.  I don't want to lose you."  I turned to look at her with serious eyes, "I'll go through hell and high water to make sure you stay safe."
She met me with a soft grin as she rose up onto her hind legs to give me a hug, "Thanks for that, but don't worry about me.  I won't die on you."  
We patted each other on the back before we let each other go.
> Chapter 8: Battle of the Bridge
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

This felt weird.  Currently, we were waiting on our side of the bridge, while a massive minotaur taunted us on the bridge in a heavy downpour.  Apparently, minotaur military tradition stated that if there was a stalemate such as this where neither side wanted to fight in a particularly difficult battle because of the terrain, there was a solution.  Each side sends out their greatest warrior to fight to the death.  The winning side got to choose the battlegrounds so long as it was still within a mile of the undesirable terrain.  Or even just bypass a certain obstacle and start fighting immediately.  
How did I know this?  I was part of the escort for our general to meet with the minotaur general, where it was all explained to me firsthand.  It seemed like a decent problem solver, unless one or neither side provided a fighter.  Then what?  Stay there until the end of the war?  Go around each other?  Fuck if I knew.
The minotaur yelled another insult at my army. About how cowardly we were to face death.  After being able to observe common ponies for a month or so, I could accurately state that the average male was a fucking pansy ass coward.  The females, Raindrop included, had this weird mix of being both like a guy and a girl.  They liked girly things, but they were more apt to get into fights and other things that seemed more manly.  It just left me scratching my head.  Still, of the girls, no one was sent out either.  As the day grew longer, I was getting more and more annoyed by that minotaur on the bridge.  Just the way it seemed to shove it's way into my skull, and the way he said it.  Reminded me of the posturing douchebags back home.  The kind that bragged to no end of how great they were or how great the group they belonged to was.  Even without any evidence they would spew generalities that were likely just opinions rather than fact.
It was about 3 in the afternoon of the fifth day when I'd finally had enough.  If he talked any longer, and I didn't do anything, I was bound to go insane.  I grabbed my helmet and shield, belted my sword, and marched through the camp towards the bridge.  Much to Raindrop's surprise.
When she caught up to me, she hissed into my ear while trying to slow me down, "What do you think you're doing?"  
Her body was no match for my robotic legs as I pushed on, answering her in a whisper, "Settling this damn thing.  We're out in the field sleeping in puddles of mud while more rain pours on our heads.  It's pissing me off."  I gave her a barely visible smile and wink, and she let go to watch me pass through more ponies.
Said ponies began to take notice, and I started developing a nice little crowd.  Even a tall white pony that I could swear I'd seen before.  All of them were whispering about what I was doing.  They stopped following me once I passed the forward guards of the camp, and watched from afar as I stepped onto the bridge.
I stared up at the massive hulk that was my opponent.  As I donned my helmet and strapped under my chin, I was already thinking about how this fight should go for me to win in this David and Goliath scenario.
A few stones and a slingshot are definite no goes.  This isn't the Bible, and that's way too smart for humans here.  Besides, minotaur skulls are too thick for that.  No, I'm going to have to rely on some advantages that are in my favor.
I drew my sword and adopted a combative stance, He's big, and real heavy.  That means while he can wield a tree as a club, he's going to be really slow to move all that weight.  But that also means.... The minotaur laughed as he stared down at me and began a few final baddie lines to intimidate the pony army and to boost the morale of his own army, I'm going to use my prosthetics to their limits to be as fast as possible.
"You ponies choose to send a human against the greatest warrior of the Makriá Kérata?"  His laugh bellowed across the plains, deep and horrible.  It was that of a demon.
"Very well!  I shall show you your own weakness!"  He declared.  He swung his club in a flashy way, grinning down at me.  
I only needed to wait for a second before he made his first move.  He lunged forwards swinging his club downward in a horizontal strike.  I rose my shield, quietly trusting the smith who made it, and caught the club.  The club bounced off, throwing the monster off balance, much to his own surprise.  I, however, was pushed backwards to the low barrier of the bridge side, my feet skidding on the wet stone.
Without missing a beat, I rushed forwards with blinding speed, attempting to seize the advantage.  The minotaur, as slow and bulky as he was, still reacted in time to glance my blow off his club.  
A hoof came up to strike at my crotch.  I didn't see it in time to drop my shield down to block, or to reposition my metal legs to save my precious family jewels from an absurd invasion of common decency.  In other words, he was going to kick me in the balls.  Guys don't do that to other guys.  
Cloven hoof met sensitive tissue, and lifted me off the ground to launch me several feet backwards.  When I landed, I let out the most horrifying, inhuman screeches ever to exist as I cradled my one eyed snake.  I was going to fuck him up before, but now I was going to make him bleed.  
He laughed awkwardly, obviously unsure of how he should react, as I struggled to my feet, trying to pry my hands away from my crotch.  I calmly, and a bit stiffly, walked over to my dropped sword.  The moment it was in my grip, I launched without warning, closing the gap between us.  His club swung from the side in an attempt to strike at my head.  I dropped to my knees, sliding underneath the club right to his own legs.  My sword stabbed upwards, right between his own legs.  It didn't go far, but it didn't need to.  I achieved my sick revenge by stabbing his manhood with gusto.  
He roared in agony, falling to a knee and dropping his weapon.  I took the opportunity to stab him in between his upper arm and his arm socket, effectively rendering his arm useless.  He tried to retreat a few steps away, trying to figure out which wound he should clutch with his remaining good arm.  I didn't give him space.  I lunged again, missing his other socket, but still managing to dig my blade into his chest very near the joint.  
His arm went slack like the other as he recoiled away from me.  His face was contorted in pain, eyes squeezed shut.  I slashed at his left leg, then his right, forcing him into a kneeling position.  I punched him with my shield, and he fell onto his back.  I took my time walking up to his face to let him feel the pain longer, and to build a sense of dread in him.  I rested the point of my blade on his jugular, and waited until he opened his eyes.  This close to him, I knew he could see some of my face.  To taunt him, I gave him a toothy smile.  As his face twisted in horror, I buried my blade in his throat, letting him drown in his own blood that gushed from his throat.  He died slowly, staring past me as he felt his life drained away, twitching futilely as his systems slowly shut down.
The valley was quiet from both sides.  Neither pony nor minotaur made a noise, as they stared at me, the human who'd bested the minotaur.  Like an animal killing a war god.  It had to be impossible, surely.  But then again, I wasn't an animal, and that dead body wasn't no war god.
I let my shoulders sag as I listened to the rain patter on the bridge and tink off my helmet.  I felt tired, like I was carrying the weight of the world on my back.  I wondered if I would ever be free from war, much less peace of mind.  
Turning, I made my trek back to camp, trudging through the mud.  Among the mass of ponies, the large white pony at the head of them all.   I tried to go past her, but she stepped in my way.  Quirking an eyebrow, I tried to walk around her only for her to mirror me.  I grunted in annoyance, and almost sat down, but decided against it since I didn't really like getting covered in mud.  The white pony looked me up and down, and while she didn't look horrified like most ponies, she did look incredibly sad.  
Hmm, that's a new one.  Suddenly her horn lit up in a golden glow.  Suddenly, my chinstrap was undone, and my helmet was ripped off my head.  The helmet slapped against the wet ground, as the pony gasped in surprise.  She looked horrified now, staring directly into my eyes.  I stared right back with a dead, emotionless stare.  In the corner of her eye, I saw the faintest of hints of a tear growing.  
Ah, so she knows that these eyes aren't real, or at least that there's something wrong.
"Poor, poor human.  What kind of nightmare did you go through."  She asked me rhetorically.  A pair of hooves clopped up from the crowd of ponies, and Raindrop appeared.  She rushed right up to me and hugged me with the strength of giant.  
I gave her a few reassuring pats on the back, and looked back to the white pony.  I had a nagging feeling that I'd seen her before, but where?  
"Is this your human, little one?"  The white pony asked.
Raindrop immediately released me to pop a salute, "Yes Princess Celestia!"
Celestia looked away from me to Raindrop.  Taking the opportunity, I picked up my helmet, wiped away the mud before putting it on again.  
"What can you tell me about him?"  She asked.  Well, demanded nicely to be more accurate.  
"Not much really."  She lied, "He came from a human fighting ring, so he's got a fair number of scars .  But some of his scars don't look like they were made by any weapon I know of."
"What of his armor?  They don't look like standard issue armor for our humans."
Raindrop bit her lip, uncomfortable with the question, "W-well, you're right, it isn't armor.  They're extremely advanced prosthetics.  From what I can tell, they're stronger than the average human arm.  Same with his legs.  But if he works for a long time, he starts getting lethargic."
Celestia seemed to have steeled herself from shock now, so instead of a gasp, she looked nearly hurt.  Like a precious loved one had verbally wounded her.  
Her recovery was quick, as she spoke again, "In any case, I'm grateful that he took the burden of taking a life from my shoulders.  I've seen many battles in my life, and I've unfortunately had to take many lives.  It weighs on the soul, you know, even at my age."  She looked away from us to regard the army on the other side of the bridge retreating as a small contingent recovered the dead body.
"It seems as though tomorrow will bring a great struggle.  I suggest that you get an early rest once we make camp on the other side." she softly suggested.
> Chapter 9: Wounds
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Today was the big day.  All our units were in position, the pegasi were all loaded up with their magic bombs and their wing blades, earth ponies and humans armored up and bearing weapons, and the unicorns with their magic.  
Raindrop was with the other pegasi, even though she was my handler.  I was positioned with the rest of the humans, who grunted and snarled in anticipation for the fight.  None of them had shields, but had a conglomeration of weapons.  Gauntlet blades, spears, swords, and anything else that was sharp or pointy.  They shared one thing together, and that was their armor.  Same as mine.  Greek breastplates, gauntlets, shin guards attached to sandles, and a helmet.  I was the only one with a shield, a good one at that.  
Oddly enough, I didn't have any nightmares the night previous, and had a peaceful, dreamless sleep.  All I had to do to prepare was to eat a hearty meal to make sure I didn't slow up and get tired quick.  That was one of the downsides of my prosthetics.  Unlike the earlier versions in the 2010's that ran on batteries, mine made electricity through a process of using the energy I produced from what I ate.  I didn't fully understand it, but I did know that the harder I worked, the quicker I'd get tired.  Once I'd passed out because of the drain.  Almost cracked my skull open on that fall.
All I could do now as I waited for the order to charge, was think of my strategy.  I couldn't do the same thing I'd do in free for all's in the arena, and wait for all my opponents to off each other and go for the survivor.  There were lives at stake now.  Sentient ones, so I had to participate.  Best option was to go with the flow, and not get too aggressive and wear myself out before the battle ended.  
With my strategy complete, I cracked my back and neck, missing my flesh and bone fingers, because I loved cracking them too.  A pair of wings flapping grabbed my attention, and I found Raindrop hovering above me.
"Stay safe, ok?"  
"Don't worry about me.  I'm used to this stuff.  Just concentrate on your safety."  I said back.  There weren't any ponies close enough to identify me as the speaker, so I spoke normally.  
We gave each other a quick hug, and she went back to her position, though my eyes lingered.  For some reason, I had a bad feeling, and it had something to do with her.  Time seemed to have flown by when we finally heard, "CHARGE!!!!" 
We roared our battle cry, sprinting forwards across the plain towards the minotaurs that were charging back at us.  If movies got one thing right, it was the deadly silence that seemed to deaden our ears as we charged.  Was it our pent up emotions?  Blind fear? Acceptance?  Doesn't really matter, it happened, and I felt numb, like always.  A warrior does not think or feel while he fights as a normal person would.  Just what was going on in the moment to keep himself alive.  How to kill the man in front of you.  
I flexed a muscle in my legs, and spikes erupted from the top of my shins, pointing upwards.  Even after the war, I was paranoid as fuck, and paid for extra modifications for these bad boys once I had the money.  I certainly appreciated them in the arena, along with the others.  
My target selected, I leapt up at the last moment before the two armies collided, and rammed my shin blades straight into the skull of a minotaur.  He grunted in pain, and together we fell to the ground, smashing his skull.  From then on, it was chaos.  Nothing but slicing, blocking, stabbing, punching, bashing, pushing, yelling, losing myself in the battle.  Something that was becoming way too familiar.    But as all battles go, I slipped up a few times.  A battle axe bounced past my raised shield and made deep rent into my shoulder guard, a sword surprised me and slashed downwards to scratch my helmet over my eye like an over used cliche, and a warhammer landed a powerful blow that caught my chestplate and  tore it off. 
Rarely did I kill each new enemy I came across.  A pegasus could swoop in with their wings blades, another grounder could stab or slice them, a spell might hit them and set them on fire, or I could just lose track of each target in the mass of bodies.  Even though it felt like the battle was taking forever, it had only been an hour by the time our right flanks had begun to overrun and encircle the enemy flanks, beginning a route.  
It hadn't taken effect where I was fighting.  I was tired, close to swaying on my feet.  So much effort had been spent trying to kill my opponents quickly, that my mistakes were becoming easier to exploited.  A battle axe struck my shield, and I lacked the strength to keep it in place.  So it recoiled away from the point of impact, carrying me with it.  A claymore swung sideways at me, and I barely had time to back up a step as the sword tasted blood, ripping a long gash down and across my stomach.  If I'd been any closer, that would have cleaved me in half.
I growled in pain, trying to reset my stance, only to realize that the enemy was retreating.  I let out a breath, sheathed my sword, and put a cold hand against the warm, sticky blood that was oozing down my torso.  But I wasn't worried.  The blood was coming out slowly, and got slower as I calmed down.  I looked to the skies, looking for Raindrop.  The way I figured it, she would still be in the skies, but I didn't see her.  Immediately I started getting anxious, not seeing her.  Worrying that she might be hurt, or worse.  There's always a worse.  
I started looking through the battlefield, just in case the worse case scenario had occurred.  There were very few green ponies like Raindrop, so my search was quickened.  A part of me was glad I found her, another part wished I didn't find her.  Cause when I found her, she was on the ground, covered in wounds, blood trickling down her face, helmet nowhere to be seen.  A quick listen at her heart revealed she was still alive and breathing.
My heart started racing as I scavenged some long cloth off the dead, and made makeshift bandages and tourniquets to stop the bleeding.  It wasn't going to last long, but long enough for me to find help.  
I made sure she would be at least stable for the next couple of minutes, and booked it to where an aid station set up.  When I approached, I saw the Princess tending to some wounds.  My thoughts came in fragments, Humble leader.  Good.  Old, good with magic, healing spells plus hurt Raindrop equals better Raindrop.  Just as she finished with her patient, I grabbed her from under her barrel, hefted her up onto a shoulder, and started racing back to Raindrop.  Unbelievably, none of the soldiers OR doctors seemed to take notice.
The Princess took it well, relatively speaking.  She squealed like a little girl when I picked her up, and thrashed a bit once she realized I was carrying her, but settled down after a few long strides.  I noticed very quickly, that she was much heavier and larger close up.  Plus, seeing as how her ass was in front of my face, I also noticed that she had very noticeable purge on her ass that jiggled as I ran. 
I had to mentally slap myself to keep myself together, What the fuck is wrong with me?  Staring at her ass while Raindrop's hurt?  Oi, even I wouldn't want to be my therapist.  
Finally, I made it back to Raindrop.  She was in the same condition as before, comatose and bleeding slowly through the bandages.  I dropped the Princess on her hooves, and pointed at Raindrop.  She looked at Raindrop, and a look of recognition flashed through her eyes.  
"I'm sorry your owner is dead, my poor human.  But there is little I can do when they are dead."  She said.
I sucked in a breath, terrified that was the case.  I rushed to her side, fear taking control of me, as I checked her breathing and heartbeat.  

*Thump*Thump*Thump*

I let out a chuckle, then thought, Fuck it, probably blew my cover.  If I haven't, she's probably already onto me. "You really had me going.  Now," I turned to her, "HELP HER ASSHOLE!" I yelled.  
She just started.  Nothing but stared.  I groaned, rolling my eyes and head.  I stomped over to her, grabbed her horn and dragged her over to Raindrop, even as she yelped.  
"You have magic, you know healing spells, right?"   I ask, my ire slowly rising.
"Uh... yes.  What-"
"FUCKING HELP HER!!!" I screamed.
Her horn lit up, as well as several of Raindrop's wounds.  After a minute dragged by, the glowing stopped.  I looked between the two, and quickly removed the bandages and the turniquites, revealing only that the fur just over the scar missing.  But she wasn't waking up.  
"Why isn't she waking up?"  I asked, genuinely scared for the first time in quite a while.  No, not startled.  Scared.  Scared that my only friend in this world might be dead, or a vegetable.  
"She has a very bad concussion.  She could be comatose for days, weeks, months, even years.  There's no telling."
"Well fuck.  I was hoping against that.  How's life support here?"  I prayed to God, if He existed here, that Raindrop would be ok.  
"She'll be well taken care of.  Now, let's talk about you."
"Eheheheheh!  Raindrop first.  You scan ask whatever the hell you want, but her needs come first."
She smiled warmly at me as I picked Raindrop up, cradling her limp form in my arms.  I took great care to not jostle her as we made our trek back to camp.


***Days Later***
I was in Raindrop's personal hospital room.  She was still comatose, but she was hooked up to the life support machines, so she was fine as far as the near future.  I wanted to be there for her when she woke up, so I'd been staying here since she was moved here.  Celestia had been that kind to me.  She was here with me now, for the questioning.  
"So, what exactly are you?  A channeling, perhaps?"  She asked.  Not hostility, mind you.  Just curious.  
"Well, I don't know what a changeling is, but I'm not that."
"Then what are you?"
"I'm human, just... not one of those sorry excuses for ones you're used too.  See, I'm not from around here.  Not by a long shot."
"Oh?  Are you from across the sea then?"
I laughed, "Yeah, metaphorically I guess.  The biggest 'sea' there is."
Her eyes widened as realization dawned, "You mean-"
"Yep, ALIENS BITCH!"  I used the voice you hear from memes.   Distorted slightly by the phone, and yelled loudly.  I laughed thinking about it, and Celestia's reaction.
"Sorry!  Sorry, just a joke from back home.  Before you even ask, no.  I am not here to conquer anything.  In fact, I don't know how I got here at all."
"Sweet merciful Faust.  An intelligent being went through the pits."  She put a hoof to her forehead with horror.
"For three years.  Three years and change of being thought of as nothing more than an animal, when back home I'd be seen as equal to anyone else.  What a shock that was."  I started staring off into the distance, remembering how it felt back then.  I shivered.
"I'm so sorry my ponies put you through that.  I can't believe they'd put you through all that knowing you were intelligent."  She said solemnly.  I could tell that she really felt bad about it.
"Well, most of them didn't know.  For a while, my voice was fucked up.  Got damaged somehow and took forever for it to repair itself.  Only my last owner and some of his goons knew."
"What do you mean 'repair itself'?  Don't you mean heal?"
"Nope!  Fake vocal chords.  Biomechanics that self repair when their damaged.  Pretty damn useful, especially when it allows me to change my voice to however I want to sound."
"Biomechanics?  What's that?"
"Eh, how do I explain this simply?  Well, you know what a cell is right?"  She nodded, "Well, biomechanics are a bunch of mechanical cells that form up or are arranged to form tissues that do specific jobs, like vibrate to form sound."
"Fascinating.  What of your limbs?"
"Much simpler machines.  Made of metal and wires and shit like that."
"And you can control all of these all the time?  That is some impressive magic."
I laughed, long and hard until I started started crying.  "Damn, I still can't get over the fact that magic actually exists here.  No, I don't use magic to control 'em all.  Bunch of wires, sensors, and tough as nails micro computers that monitor the electrical brain imitations going to the limbs, throat and just about every other machine that my life doesn't immediately rely on that's in me."
"There's more?  What inspired you to get these, eh, modifications?"  She asked, fully engrossed with this new information.  
"War.  War caused this affront to life."  
"You... you were wounded."  
"Ai, badly.  Still hard to believe I lived through it.  I was a soldier back home.  A pretty good one.  God and luck was on my side for most of the war, until the last operation.  Got fucked over by a mine."  
"I'm sorry, it sounds like you've had a bad run of things."  She paused for a moment, "So, if you don't mind me asking, what is war like on your planet?"  
"Damn, I've got to show it to someone else." I mumbled.  I sighed, "C'mere.  Learned a trick to help out with this kinda stuff."
She shuffled closer, but not as close as I meant.  I groaned, closed the distance, and pressed my head against hers.  Before her surprise could surface, I opened my mind to her.  It was a brief moment, but I showed her several different scenarios I had found myself.  Then, I let her go, and sat back down in my too short seat.
Her eyes were wide, pupils shrunk in horror and devastation, "That wasn't war.  That was a slaughter." she said in a whisper.  She looked at me with such sadness, that I felt my heart twist a little.  
"I know.  War is Hell, and rarely involves skill.  More on being lucky, not being stupid, and unit to unit tactics."  
"So, you're limbs were violently torn off?" I grunted in affirmation.
"Was it at least cheap?"
"Nope, woulda cost me an arm and a leg if they weren't apart already.  Billionaire took pity on me."
We were quiet for a while, Celestia was probably trying to figure out what to say next, while I just didn't really care and started letting my mind fade out.  
"So what now?"  She asked suddenly.
I shrugged, "Stick with her for the foreseeable future.  She's my only friend here, and a reliable lifeline.  Can't make money, not seen as an equal here so I can't apply for citizenship.  Matter of fact, I can do fuckall on my own.  Not even allowed to use a fucking toilet in public.  She's all I got."  
"Would you like to go home?  I've got a spell that could do that."  Interesting, but no.  I ain't leaving Raindrop.  Besides, it would be a real pain in the ass to fix the death assignment the government would've already assigned to me.
"Nah, it'd be a birch to fix all the paperwork back home.  I've probably been declared dead in the time since I've been gone.  Besides, a bond between soldiers is sacred.  I'm staying with her until one of us dies.  If I die first, whatever.  She does first, I'm visiting her grave every day.  Honestly, I hope I kick the bucket first.  More people will miss her than me.  I just wish I could be seen as an equal."
"Hmm, I'll see what I can do about that."  She said.
Whatever it was that she meant unnerved me slightly, "What do you mean by that?" 
She gave me a smile, "Giving you full fledged citizenship, pay, back pay, rights as an Equestrian, and protection as an Equestrian."
"Be ready for scientists swarming you and me trying to get their hands-shit... hooves on me.  Something new like me, they'll be hungry for a big discovery.    I want no part of that."
She tilted her head ever so slightly, "We shall see.  How are your new wounds doing?" 
"Scabbed over.  They'll be there for a while, but I'll be fine.  Again, worried more about her."  
"Well Achilles, or Scott, it was nice meeting you, but I must take my leave."  She got up and left as I slapped myself.  I forgot that she heard my name in my memories.  

***The next day***
The family came in staring at both Raindrop and me.  Didn't look at me long though, and rushed over to their unconscious family member.  They talked to her for a long while, telling her things that was happening in life, telling her how much they loved her.  I bet my parents had done the same with me, but she was deader to the world than I was.  
Eventually, they had to head home, promising that they'd come back the next day.  They tried to get me to come with them, even attaching a lease and trying to pull me along.  None of it worked.  I was staying here.  Eventually, they gave up, and talked to the staff.  They told them that I'd been behaving myself, and I was allowed to stay with Raindrop, so they didn't have a problem with me.  Reluctantly, they left me here.  
Celestia came by an hour later, happily showing me some special papers.  She started rambling on about how special the papers were and shit.  But I didn't understand any of it.
"Oi, remember when I showed you my memories?"
"We, yes?  What does that have anything to do-"
I raised my voice to get her to stop, "I was a grunt.  A ground pounding simpleton.  I didn't understand a single damn thing you said regarding those papers.  Give me the short version."
She gave me the stink eye, "Fine.  Basically, these make you an official Equestrian citizen.  I just need to have you sign your name, take your picture, and I'll give you a special necklace tag that'll identify you as intelligent."
"And what stops ponies from refusing service to me, or try to capture me for whatever?"  I wasn't trying to be a smartass or anything, I really wanted to know.  
"Well, there's the Anti-Speciesism Laws that make it illegal to refuse service to intelligent species based on race, and you retain the right to self defense, so you can fight back, and still be protected by the law.  You'll be well taken care of."  
"Riiight.  Sure I will.  Ok, where do I sign."

******
Done.  Finally fucking done signing shit.  I could swear that my hand was sore, even though it wasn't supposed to happen with metal arms.  
"There!  We done now!??!"  I asked exasperated.  
"Yep!" She said cheerfully.
"Thank you God!"
"Now we take your picture!"
"FUCK!!!!"
> Chapter 10:  Family Affair
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I took another swallow of pony rubbing alcohol.  It made my tongue feel prickly and numb, but it wasn't bad.  Imagine my surprise when I looked at the ingredients, and it said "alcohol".  Nothing else.  Perfect.  Plus, I had my pants now.  Blue jeans, but no underwear.  YET.
Add the fact that I'd taken a few bottles for my personal pleasure, and was now watching as the alcoholics of the hospital now fighting over the last bottle, and I was a happy little camper.  Well, happy, DEADLY, and BIG camper would be more accurate.  
Celestia walked into the room, absolutely baffled at what the alcoholics incoherent ramblings could possibly be about.  So she asked me.
"Achilles, what is-" I show her the bottle, which only made her tilt her head in confusion.
I groaned slightly, letting my head hang dramatically before popping it back up, "I stole their drinks."
Her feathers ruffle as she sputters.  At first, I thought it was indignation.  But no. She had tried, and failed, to keep her laughter in.  For one with such a motherly voice, she laughed like a little girl.  
I chuckled myself a few times, then swallowed some more rubbing alcohol, "So what brings you down here?  Certainly isn't the 'decker'."  I know I said decór wrong, but I don't care.  Just trying to see if Celestia would pick up on it.
And she did.  With a raised eyebrow, she tentatively asked, "Decker?"
I nodded, "Decker."
She opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again, "Do you mean 'decór'?"
"Yeah!  That shit!"
"You do know you're saying it wrong, right?"
I shrug my shoulders as I flop into a chair.  I take another swig.
She stares at me, like I'd just said I was the king of the cats.
"What?  I'm a redneck from Ohio!"   Not entirely true, but I thought it was funny in my head.
She promptly slapped herself with a golden clod hoof.  Immediately afterwards, straightened herself up to a "proper" posture, and threw me a curveball.
"I want you to introduce yourself to her parents, and after that, your new unit.  The family should be here in another few minutes, and you shall have your orders tomorrow.  What do you say, Achilles?"
For a brief moment, I do nothing.  Then I drink some more of the rubbing alcohol, swallow, and yell, "WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU DO THAT!!!!"
Celestia seemed nonplussed, as if I'd just asked her the question normally, "Because you need to get yourself out there, introduce yourself to society.  If ponies like you, they'll accept you."
I scoffed at that, "I was doing just fine acting like Raindrops' human."  I crossed my arms and turned away, pouting like a little kid.
"And rely on Raindrop for your alcohol?"   My eyes popped open.
"Well... fuck.  Didn't think of that.  Fine, I'll do it.  But you owe me a case of whiskey, and none of that weak shit!  The strong ones that're meant to floor a guy."
"As you wish.  I'll stay here with you, so be nice."  She emphasized that statement with a deep stare into my eyes.
I just smiled, "Yeah?  Sure, I'll be nice.  Just realize that our definitions are going to differ slightly."  I started taking another swig.
The door opened without warning to reveal the parents and kids.  They looked as shocked as me and Celestial were.  I coughed up the rubbing alcohol, and just continued coughing hard.  Celestia came to my side, trying to help but not knowing how. 
"Piss *coooouuugh* off!  I'm fine."  I say irritated.  My lungs were burning from the alcohol, and I could feel (and hear) the vibration of my lungs and chest at each cough.
"Did... Achilles just... speak?"  The mother asked.
"Surprise."  I said weakly with an awkward smile, already going for another drink.
"Already?!  You just coughed it up!"  Celestia practically yelled.
"I'm Irish, German, and Russian!  Being a drinker is a fuh-" I realized their kids were present, so I couldn't be so liberal with my cursing, "fuh fuh fricking guarantee for me.  It's almost literally in my DNA."
"You're what?"  The dad asked, obviously lost and confused with how this conversation was going.
"Doesn't matter.  Anyhow, Celestia wants me to introduce myself, so here goes."  I set my bottle roughly on the side table, and stood up, "My name's Scott Schneider, or as you know me, Achilles.  Nice to meet you."  I held out my hand for a shake.
They stared at me, and I could see the gears turning in their heads.  A moment passed.  Then a few more, and more, until there was finally some progress.  Their eyes widened substantially, much more than I thought was possible.  Their pupils shrank, ears flayed against their skulls, and they took a step back.  The boys, they looked confused, heads tilted to the side, faces scrunched up in thought.
"So Achilles is like us? He's smart?"  Aqua Jet, the baby blue Pegasus, asked.
"Yep."  I grunted, already grabbing the bottle again, and taking a hefty swig.
"Achilles?"  The mother asked.  Never actually heard her name.  Even from the husband.  Unless her name was "honey" or "sweetie".
I grunted my question, "huh?" while drinking. 
"I...I'm sorry how I treated you before.  It must have felt awful to be treated like an animal."
The husband joined in, "And I'm sorry I was testing your patience."
I stared at them with surprise written across my face, "Uh, you're... forgiven?"
It was their turn to be confused, only much more than before, "Aren't you mad about it?"
I shrugged, "Not really.  All I know about the humans here is what I learned in the arena, where everything was trying to kill me.  Thought you were justified, so I tried not to take it to heart."
"O....k.  Uh, I'm not sure how to talk to you."  The dad said hesitantly, like if he said the wrong thing a bomb might go off.
I shrugged, "Fine by me.  You'll get used to it eventually.  Just know this," I smiled in the most playful way possible, "I'm safe."  
The ponies shivered once I smiled.  Took me a second to realize that it was the smile itself that unnerved them.  Humans here, of course, don't smile.  
I turn to Celestia, "So.  Any clue when she'll wake up?  My head hurts more the longer she's asleep, and I'm getting pretty antsy."
She smiles, although something's off about it, "She will wake up soon, Scott, all you have to do... is wait."
She doesn't know at all, does she?  I got up, walked to her ear, and whispered ever so faintly so only she could hear.
"So you don't know.  Don't you have some sort of 'wellness' spell to cast on her and wake her up?"
She gave me a look that screamed "We'll talk about this later".  I grunted, irritated.  But I dropped it and went back to sipping more alcohol.  
Blue Skies walked up to me, looking me up and down, "Can I ask you something?"  
I nod, "Ask away Blue."
"Why do you wear pants?"
I was in the middle of another sip, but I don't spit it out.  I stop for a second, thinking of how to answer this.  I finally swallow when I have an answer.
"Well, you see... uh, well all humans from where I'm from wear clothes in public."
"All the time?"  He asks again with those big, adorable eyes.
I nod, "Yep."
"Why?"  Fuck!  Is no answer good enough for this kid?!  It's adorable, but really making me nervous about how much I'm supposed to say.
"Well, that's kind of complicated.  One of the biggest reasons is that humans don't have enough fur to keep ourselves warm.  So we make clothes to make us comfortable."  I wasn't even going to hint at the other reason.  He wasn't old enough by a long shot.
His brother joins him, looking me up and down, "What happened to you?"  
That was blunt as hell.  Interesting to know that kids from both worlds don't have a sensor.  His parents instantly start berating him for asking the question, but...
"Hey!  It's fine, I'm cool with it."  I look to Aqua, who seems genuinely confused about why his parents seemed so angry about the question, "Ok Aqua.  I'll tell you.  Just promise me this.  Don't just ask anybody a question like that without warning, or asking permission.  Ok?  Those questions can bring up some bad memories that make people feel bad."
His ears go flat, and he genuinely looks sorry, "I promise.  I'm sorry if I made you feel bad."
I smile softly at him.  It's kids like this that make me feel happy.  Innocent little kids that just try to be nice.  
I shake his mane, "It's alright kid, I've gotten over it for the most part, so it doesn't hurt as much it would someone else."
Aqua smiles, knowing that he didn't hurt me, "So you'll tell me?"
I laugh, liking how persistent he was, "Sure I will.  So, you know what war is right?"
He nods, "Yeah, it's what Equestria is doing right now!  Ponies and minotaurs fighting!"
I click my tongue and point at him, "You got it.  See, I was in a war on my planet too.  I got hurt a lot, but one time I got hurt really bad, and lost my limbs and eyes.  That's why you see all this metal on me."
Aqua scowled, "Why'd they do that to you!?  You're such a nice human!"
I smiled warmly at him, "That's the nature of war.  People get hurt one way or another.  Kind of like with your sister.  She's the nicest pony I've ever met, and here she is.  All we can do is not take it personally, heal, and hope that the war ends soon."
"That is a nice way of putting it Scott."  Celestia said, a warm smile of pride on her face.
I gave her a look of seriousness, "I'll tell you the M-rated version of that later."  
She quirked an eyebrow at me disapprovingly, but ultimately dropped it.  Good for me and my drinking.  
I let Princess Celestia and the parents talk for a bit while I drank and looked sorrowfully at Raindrop, just wishing she would wake up.  
An hour went by, the family said goodbye, and left.  I turned to Celestia, "So here's the M-rated version."
"Please... don't."
"Oh fuck no.  You're gonna hear it, and here it is.  War is a fucking nightmare that no one educated well enough, or in their right mind wants to be a part of.  War is hell and hell is war.  There are no winners, and everyone involved is the loser.  Well, except for the politicians.  They just get more power... sometimes."  I give her a glare, "You better not be one of those cold motherfuckers."
She smiles, playfully, "And if I am?"
I answer a smile, with a wolffish one, "I'd do my damnedest to fuck... your shit... up.  In every way possible, I would make your life hell.  You wouldn't be able to take a walk without stepping in shit, read the papers without being reemed by the news, talk without being insulted, eat without the meal having been spat in, or drink anything but piss.  I'd defame your name so thuroughly that every single being would scowl at the sight of you, and the history books would name you as the Deciever.  But that isn't the case, now is it?"
"That's quite thought out now, isn't it?"
"Practice makes perfect."  My grin turned almost evil.
"You've done this before?"
I laughed, "No politician would touch me, and went on there best behavior.  Paid being in a popular band that people enjoyed listening to.  And having a couple hundred connections in the military certainly helped."
"Wouldn't those soldiers have committed treason then?  As did you?"
I chuckled evilly, "Oh, no, no no, I did my damn homework.  Those fuckers I lambasted deserved every damn thing they got."
Celestia sighed, "Remind me not to cross you."  
I just laughed.  Laughed really hard, "I'm fucking with you!  I literally made all that shit up off the top of my head."
She stared at me for a second, a smile creeping across her lips, and she laughed.  She sat down, holding her sides as they split laughing.  
"Uh... you ok?"  I asked, thinking she might... just possibly, have lost her mind.
She snorted, yes, snorted like a pig, and answered, "It's just so ridiculous!  Outwitted by a human!"  She laughed a few more times, and I started laughing with her.  I was imagining a human, this worlds' human, a creature who barely understood that a sharp thing could make a living thing bleed, outsmarting the ruler of the land.  Like a monkey outsmarting Steven Hawking in physics.
She finally gets a hold of herself, tears in her eyes, "Thank you for laughing with me. I was afraid I might've incurred the wrath of Achilles!"
We laughed again, though I was a little less enthusiastic.  In fact, I didn't laugh at all to be honest.  "The wrath of Achilles!"  Was a popular saying that the announcers in the arena would use, and so many memories started flooding my mind.  Maybe the alcohol helped with that, but nonetheless, I was now being crushed under a deluge of terror, and pain.  I had become numb to the world around me, only suffering under my memories surfacing from the deep pit I'd tried putting them in.  With them came memories from the war, and how every brother, my family, had been killed or maimed in horrific fashion.  Wonderful, great men and women who I would've gladly died for, had died.  Gone in an instant, died in my hands, or passed away in a hospital.  So many were dead.  So many scarred for life.  Lives... ruined and ended too early.
It was only when I felt myself being hugged did I snap back to reality.  My cheeks were wet, and for a second, the question remained, "Where did the water come from?"  
The hug tightened, I realized who was hugging me, and I knew, I had been crying.  Celestia and I were on the ground in a hug, one I was reciprocating.  Gently, I pushed away.
"Thanks."  I muttered, whiping away some snot that was hanging from my nose.  
Celestia looked at me with a deep sorrow, and I knew that she had a very clear idea of what had just happened, "How often does this happen?"
"Nightmares most nights.  Sometimes I get attacks like that, but usually I can control them better."
Again, with a deep, resounding remorse in her voice, "I'm sorry you're so hurt, Scott.  I should've been more selective in my wording."
I chuckled weakly, "Ain't nothing to be sorry for.  It was in the past.  I'm at fault really.  I should just man up and bury these emotions better than before, and stop being so sensitive.  I guess I didn't take that emotional training well enough."
With steel in her voice, she firmly, flatly, said, "No."  
"What?"
"I said no.  You shouldn't bury or run from what you feel.  It'll only come back harder and harder each time they come back.  Instead, you should reconcile with yourself.  I've seen many soldiers come home with such war fatigue, and the best way to deal with it, is to let other ponies, people, know how you feel.  People who are close to you."
"You're wrong, about a few things."  I said with a hollowness to my voice.
"I've been alive for millennia, I believe I know what I'm talking about." She said rather indignant.
"I don't just have war fatigue.  I've got PTSD.  Post-Traumatic-Stress-Disorder.  Trauma constantly replaying in my mind as real as it happened.  And just talking about my feelings fix the problem.  It might help, but it won't solve it.  Honestly, I'd rather live with it."
"You'd rather live with all that pain, tormented day by day and at random, than to do everything in your power to fix it?"  She sounded almost accusatory, but it was honestly just confusement.  
"Yeah.  I don't know if it's just the culture difference, or something deeper than that, but I don't want to forget the family I had in the military.  The ones that never made it back, and those who came back missing parts of themselves.  It's a dishonor to forget those who made the ultimate sacrifice, and ok to miss them.  I just gotta, let go somehow.  Of all the hell I feel."
"Schooled again, by a human."  Celestia says.
I shook my head, "No, just offering a different viewpoint with different morals and values."
A new set of hooves started me, and I looked to the source.  Next to the bedside.  Skinny, barely walking, and tears in her eyes, was Raindrop.  She was standing.
"Don't worry.  I'm not going anywheres, partner."
I couldn't help but smile, and tear up again.  A small part of me, a part I hadn't wanted to admit existed, had been fearing that she'd die, or never wake up.  The first pony I'd ever had as a friend, family even, I feared would be lost like so many others.  After three years of Hellish agony, and finally finding her, I doubted myself in how I'd stay sane.  
I rushed over, and we embraced, crying tears of joy and happiness, as Celestia rushed to get the family again.  Needless to say, it was a good family affair.
> Chapter 11: Uh... Meet the Squad?
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You still haven't told me what this unit's combat role is.  Should I be afraid?"  I asked sarcastically.
Captain Shining Armor shook his head, "I still can't believe I'm having a conversation with a human."
I snorted, "I can say the same damn thing as you in reverse, Captain.  It's hard for me to believe what used to be a stupid, unintelligent beast of burden on my world is as good as any fucking human on my planet, and that humans here make rocks look smarter than a shit ton of scientists."
"Ugh, now I know what I sound like, only with more curse words."  He slapped his forehead with a hoof.
"Want more?  I'm practically the dictionary of swearing fuckers out."
He stopped dead in his tracks just to rear up on his hind legs, put his hoof on my mouth, just to yell, "NO!  None of that!"
Swiping his hoof away, "Get your hooves the hell out of my face!   God only knows what you've  stepped in!"
He slammed back to all four hooves again, scowling, "Hey!  I will have you know that I clean hooves on a regular basis!"
I shrugged, "I clean my ass religiously, but would you like me shoving it in your face?  The answer is no.  Just because you clean something consistently, doesn't mean it'll stay clean inbetween cleanings.  It gets dirty with each use.  Just like a weapon."
He groaned in irritation, "I hope you're as good a soldier as Celestia says you are, otherwise this will just be worthless."
"Yes yes, I'll do fine as one of your Recon/Raider/Commando hybrids.  If I end up fighting using more skill and strength rather than blind luck and shitty overcomplicated strategy, I'll be more than fine."  I waved him off.  Ok, I know ponies are either crazy as hell or ultra grounded in reality, but this guy, seems like he created a new category.  The hell do I call it?
After a little more inner monologue on what I should call this guy, we finally reached a nondiscript barrack, the sound of a skirmish coming from inside.
Shining Armor growled, "What in Tartarus are they fighting over now!?"  He sprinted to the door, and kicked it open!  What the fuck is wrong with him?  You don't just kick them with all your force!  Open it hard but in control, then slam it against the wall.  Come on dude.  That's angry entrance 1-0-1.
Shining Armor dashed inside, and I followed.  Not because I wanted to follow him, oh no.  I wanted to see the ponies fighting each other.  It makes me feel satisfied watching them bicker.
Inside, it was a clusterfuck.  Bunks were toppled, blankets and mattresses thrown to every corner of the room.  Footlockers had been busted open, contents equally thrown about.  Then there were the ponies in various positions of locking up limbs and necks in uncomfortable positions.  By far, however, the weirdest part of this whole debacle was the ponified curse words.  Buck you, Horse-apples, Feather Jewels, and other incoherent grunts and growls.  That was just fucking funny.
Shining Armor, in all his intellect of a cabbage, dove into the fray, trying to split up the ponies.  Like that was going to accomplish anything.  
Unfortunately for me, I had to help him.  As much as I wanted to see him and the other ponies kick each other's teeth in, I wanted this done as soon as possible to get back to Raindrop at the hospital.  I've known this guy for all of an hour, and already I'm solving his problems.
I sighed internally, ramped up my bionics, and bellowed with the intensity of a bomb, "OFFICER ON DECK!"
Immediately, like I had performed magic myself, everyone in the room untangled themselves, and came to attention, only to look around for the speaker.  Because obviously, no pony would ever suspect a human.  Except Shining.  He was on the floor, eyes spinning like a fan.    
"Agh, fuck!  Dumbass probably has a concussion."  I groaned as I approached him.  I grabbed his muzzle in one hand, and held up three fingers, "Yo, whitey, how many fingers am I holding up?"
He managed to regain control of his eyes long enough to mutter, "Sileven."  
"What's your name?"
"Shining Plothole."  He struggled to say.  I heard some snickering, but didn't address it.
"Alright, that's enough."  I helped him stand, and guided him over to a bed, "Rest here.  I'll take care of the introductions for you."
He muttered what sounded like a thank you, then promptly went to sleep.  If I had been born in the 90's, I would've tried to keep him awake for the next 24 hours.  But since I'd grown up later than that, I was blessed to know that actually did more damage.  Sleep was important to someone who had received a concussion.
I turned around to see every single soldier gaping in awe at me.  I decided to take a better approach with them than most.
"When he wakes up, he tripped and hit his head on a footlocker.  Got it?  You were sparring, and he tripped and fell."  I say with my best commanding tone.
One of the soldiers, a mare, tilted her head, "But that's not what happened.  Why should we lie?"
I pinched my nose, groaning at how dense they were.  Didn't they know how much trouble they could be in?  "Becaauuse, if they learn he got hurt during your fight, you could all be court martialed and sent to prison for assaulting an officer.  That's why you need to lie!  I ain't having my new unit be immediately thrown into prison."  I glared at them, and I could visibly see them shiver, "As soon as we get bumblefuck here to the infirmary, we're gonna have a talk about this."
A few of them looked like they wanted to argue, but a poisonous glare shut them up.  I grabbed the frame of one side of the bed, and lifted it.  My arms had no issue with lifting it.  Neither did my legs withstanding the weight.  My back strained, as did the joints where the prosthetics were joined to my body.  But fuck it.  Pain means nothing once your pushed past it, and this was just mild discomfort.  
"Alright, let's get this over with.  One of you needs to come with me to confirm the story."

*10 minutes later*
I couldn't believe it.  They took him in, no questions asked.  They didn't even bat an eye at the unconscious form of Officer McStupid.  They just put him in a new bed and dismissed us.  I couldn't get my head around it.
"I mean seriously!  No questions?  That's a huge security risk!  What if some Minotaurs got in and roughed up the place?"
"It's... really not that big a deal.  Ponies get concussions all the time around here.   Ugh, this is why it's so hard to get along with stallions.  Always fretting over the small details."  The mare complained.
I looked at her like I hadn't truly understood what she said, "Sexism aside, I'm still serious.  A report should be made, even if it's bullshit."
All she did was grunt as we reached the barracks where we started.  In our absence, the others had cleaned up nicely.  Nothing was out of place, but they were giving each other some dirty looks.
While my companion took a seat on what I assumed was her bed, I remained.  
"So what, in all that is Holy, was the fight about?"  I growl.
Of the four ponies, the only stallion there, pointed at the mare who came with me to the infirmary, "She said that stallions have no right to be in the Guard because we're too weak and let our emotions control our actions!"
I stood there, dumbfounded.  This sounded like one those straw man arguments from back home during... pre-90's?- only it being reversed on guys.  None of it ever made any sense to me, so I stayed out of the whole argument.  Good way to not piss off anybody, obstaining.
I put my face in my hands, groaning, "So you proved her right by getting pissed and starting a fight?  Dude, that is incredibly dumb.  You just gave her more evidence that proves her point."  I groaned again, "Get a hold of your damned emotions before it gets you killed.  And you," I turned to the mare who'd started the whole debacle, "Watch your mouth.  I'm sure that there are plenty of guys who are steely eyes realists, and mares who are anything but.  Judge the individual, not the group and all that shit.  But props to you for leaving the situation after it was stopped."  I sat down on an unoccupied bed, just wondering how I managed to get myself in this unit in the first place.
"You two.  Please.  For fucks sake, tell me that you were trying to break it up.  I need some good news right now."
They both nodded, "Thank you.  Well, now that business is over, thank God, let's get on with introductions.  I'm Lance Corporal Scott Schneider, AKA Achilles.  I specialize in fighting any number of combatants up to 20, and can use most non-magical weapons currently being used by the Equestrian military.  Any questions?"
Four hooves went up.  This... this is gonna hurt isn't it?

*Half an hour later*
My brain.  Hurt.  A lot.  The questions asked were so simple and stupid it made me want to puke.  How can I talk?  Who taught me?  Where did I come from (got a good reaction out of that)?  What do you eat?  Yadda yadda yadda.  
I finally stopped the whole thing, "I need a drink.  Know any good bars around here?"  
"You drink?  I thought alcohol destroys human livers?"  One of the mares, Kindle, asked.
"EQUESTRIAN humans might take to liquor like a fish to dry land, but I'm not from Equestria.  My liver is basically the champ when it comes to alcohol, and I've been blessed with a high tolerance.  Come on, I haven't had a good drinking spree in years.  I'll buy."
They looked at each other, smiling like kids who just got told school had been cancelled.  But the mare who'd insulted the stallion, who went by the name Bristle (go figure), decided to ask one.  More.  Question.
"We'll tell you about a great military bar, but first, what's up with your arms?  That looks like some really tight armor."  
I slumped a little.  Not enjoying the prospect of reliving old memories, "It isn't armor, just really complicated prosthetics."  I pulled up a pant leg, revealing the mechanical limb.  Their eyes, all of them, turned to pinpricks, their ears flattening.
"This is the price I paid in the war on my planet.  I lost my legs, my arms, eyes, my hearing and my voice.  Not to mention the clusterfuck in my torso."
The stallion, Steadfast, stepped forwards, and felt the metal, watched as I flexed the fingers and turned my wrist 360 degrees.
"How could this have happened to you?"  He asked, sounded genuine.
"Some other time.  For now, let's go get shit faced!"  That earned a little cheer.   
They took me outside castle grounds, down a street, and into "The Sword and Shield" Tavern.  Not exactly a creative name, but I didn't care.  As long as they had booze.
Inside was depressing.  There was no music, and was full of mares and stallions who were still bandaged up from recent engagements.  They were all slumped over their drinks, few talking.  
I turned to Bristle, "I thought you said this was a great place to drink.  Not a sorrows tavern."  
She actually looked pretty surprised, like she hadn't expected this, "It was.  Usually there's music, and laughs, ponies playing darts and drinking games.   Not... this.  It doesn't even look like anypony has picked up that guitar in ages."
She said the keyword.  Guitar.  I hadn't held one in three years, and hearing that word made me realize that.  I now had an unbelievably powerful desire to play.  "Guitar?  What guitar?"
She pointed off to the one empty area towards the front.  There it was.  A black electric guitar.  And it was beautiful.  I went to the bar, got a bottle of beer, and went to the stage.  
I got the strap over my head, chugged the beer, and started playing "Rock you like a Hurricane" by the Scorpions.  It was a good song to start with when there was no base or drums, and it got the crowds' attention fast.  And if they weren't paying attention to me when I started playing, they certainly did once they heard me singing that higher pitched voice.
Halfway through, I realized that the sound of drums and bass were present, but not the instruments.  It baffled me, but plenty of things about this planet confused me.  Better to not pay attention to it.  
When the song was over, I got cheers, stomping of hooves, and a few whistles.   But I wasn't done yet.  It just felt too good playing the guitar and seeing all those happy faces.  I played "Halo on Fire" by Metallica, "Out of Hell" by Skillet, "Soldiers" by Otherwise, and a few others I forgot.  
By the time I was done, there wasn't a single downtrodden looking pony in the whole building.  I wormed my way to the bar itself, and ordered some drinks.  Once I had them (beer for the ponies, and a bottle of something called apple whiskey that was 80 proof for me) and found my little squad.  
"Let me guess, songs from you're world?"  Star Gazer, the last mare in the squad, asked.  
"Yep.  I know more, just that these songs seemed a bit more, eh, appropriate for the setting.  Now drink up."

*Three hours later*
We were all blasted.  I couldn't tell how drunk we all were until Bristle and Steadfast started kissing.  I slapped myself to make sure I was seeing it right.  Not that hard, mind you.  Just enough to hurt.  
Right now, I was getting them back to the barracks.  Kindle was so drunk she couldn't walk so I carried her, Steadfast and Star Gazer were leaning on each other, and Bristle was stumbling along trying to maintain her balance.  We got into the Castle with no problem.  Somehow.  Would've thought the gate guards would have something to say about that.
I got them all into bed, and remembered something.  Raindrop.  I was supposed to see her in the hospital.  I cursed to myself, and sprinted off to the hospital she was staying at.  Ponies stared at me.  Some with fear, others with confusion, and others still who didn't care.  
When I reached the hospital, I burst through the doors, stumbled up the stairs until I reached her floor, and found her room.  I wasn't lying when I said I had a high tolerance for alcohol.  
Inside, was Raindrop.  She was awake again, and looking at me with the most bemused expression, "You're late."
Panting, I choked out, "Sorry.  Got caught up with my new unit.  Crazy bastards.  So how you doing?"