A few days later, I decided to take a walk through town. Dawn had to screw that up for me, of course.

"You have some more soldiers coming, Mark." He said in my mind. He gave me just enough time to look away from where I thought they would be appearing before a flash of light blinded everybody around me. Instead of a body stumbling into my as I thought would happen, something very different happened instead.

With the flash of light came a screeching sound, a flash of tan, and I caught a good amount of air before landing on my back. Next came extreme pain. Just from the pain, I knew that I had a broken arm, shattered ribs, and my lower spine was broken, since I couldn't feel anything past my waist.

'Holy shit, did I just get fucking run over?' I thought, before coughing blood up all over my chest and face. 'And add a punctured lung or two to the list of injuries...' I weakly added, the light slowly fading from my vision.

"Oh shit! Callum, I know you're not a fucking corpsman, but try and help him!" A guy shouted, kneeling next to me. From my limited vision, I noted that the human was a United States Army soldier, rank of Master Sergeant. Couldn't tell the skin color.

"H-Hey..." I coughed, struggling to stay awake. Fuck, was that hard. I was forcing both my conscious and subconscious minds to keep me from slipping into the darkness, less I never wake.

"Stay awake, man! Callum, get the fucking first aid kit!" He shouted, looking behind him.

"Hospital... Somewhere behind us..." I muttered, trying to point behind me. I only succeeded in gettng more blood on my shirt.

"Stay with us! Never mind the kit Callum, help me get him in the trunk!" Master Sgt. said, before gingerly grabbing my armpits and dragging me towards the vehicle. He also succeeded in sending jolts of pain through my body. My vision went dark for a moment, and when I could see again, I was getting carried on a stretcher into the hospital, another human in front of me.

"What's... Your name? And rank?" I asked of them.

"Master Sergeant Rick Duran. The Ranger at your head is Sergeant First Class Fredrick Callum. And you?" MS answered, probably keeping me awake by making me talk or something.

"General Mark Durnkinscoff, USMC and EM." I answered, watching as several pony doctors rushed to my side. "Applejack's going to hurt me..." I muttered under my breath, while the stretcher was taken from Duran and Callum. They kept walking alongside me.

"Ah, shit! I ran over a superior officer, even if he's in a different branch..." Callum swore, but patted my good shoulder reassuringly.

"So, what happened to you two?" I asked, barely awake at this point. I was losing a lot of blood, and I knew it.

"We dead or something?" Was the question to mine.

"Yea. Dead soldiers are being sent here for a second chance." I started, but sent a mouthful of blood onto one of the Nurses (Redheart, I beieve). I groaned and continued anyway. "I died in an explosion, myself. You remember how you two died?"

"I got a bullet to the neck, I think." Duran answered with a shrug, before looking at Callum.

"RPG through the windshield. If we came back to life, how come the other three in the Humvee are still dead? And why is the Humvee with us, along with all of our gear?" Callum asked, confused.

"Don't -cough and more blood- know... Ask Red Dawn when he comes... You'll know by the horn and wings..." I coughed some more, before slumping down and finally losing consciousness.

[Undisclosed amount of time later]

"Oh my aching everything..." I groaned, opening my eyes and instantly regretting it.

'TOO MUCH FUCKING WHITE!' I thought, trying to bring my hands to my face and failing. At first I thought that they were paralized, but then I felt straps going across my body and relaxed. I moved my body slowly, and felt joy when I could move my legs.

"Hell, I never thought I'd become wheelchairized and get my legs back..." I muttered, cautiously opening my eyes again. This time, I was able to blink away the brightness until I could see without squinting.

"Hey Mark..." Dash called out from my right. Looking over, I saw that her wing was fucked up and she was sitting up as best as she could.

"What happened to you?" I asked, shifting a little.

"Messed up on a trick." She explained, then looked at me. "And you?"

"I got run over by a Humvee." I said, before mentally facepalming at her raised eyebrow. "It's like a chariot, but it's not pulled by pegasi or magic." I then spent a good half hour explaining engines and cars to Dash, who was very interested in them.

"Look who's awake!" A voice shouted from the doorway, causing me to narrow my eyes.

"You made me get run over, assbag." I growled. Dawn frowned and came over to me.

"Honestly, I had no idea that the Humvee would appear with them. Before you ask, I also don't know why the others were DOA, but I bet that some bullets came with them right as the Humvee did." Dawn guessed, before using his voodoo shit to release me. I slowly sat up, wincing at the feeling of pinpricks all over my body. Like when your arm fell asleep and you're just getting the feeling back, but amplified by a hundred and all over your body.

"Jesus, this is uncomfortable..." I said, stretching carefully and wincing some more.

"Who's Jesus?" Dash called out, looking at me.

"Religious Jesus or Mexican Jesus?" I instantly called back, sitting up fully. I barked out a laugh at Dash's confusion and immediately regretted it, clutching my chest.

'Yep, still hurts...' I thought, my eyes watering a little. Dawn frowned at my reaction to pain but said nothing, instead teleporting away.

"Bloody bogan..." I muttered, slowly standing up and looking at Dash. "Well, I guess I'll see ya later. See ya, Dashie." I said to her, before walking out and checking my sorry ass out. Fuck yea, pony hospitals!

Another hour later, I was back in the bar, slowly draining a pony shot of whiskey. Which translates to a fucking cup in human terms.

"Hey, General." Duran said with a salute.

"I'm actually a corporal, if we're going by USMC standards. I'm a general in the Equestrian Military, not the Corps." I commented, waving his hand off. Duran sheepishly grinned before sitting down across from me and ordering a beer.

"So, how're ya feeling?" He asked while waiting for his drink. I took a moment to form a response while sipping at my whiskey.

"Like I just got run over, and then healed with magic." I deadpanned.

"Right, well Fredrick's very sorry about that." He muttered, taking his helmet off and running a hand over his shaved head.

"I'm not blaming Fredrick for it; I'm blaming the guy, or rather, pony who brought you two here." I replied. "Apology accepted, anyway." Duran seemed to lose a lot of grief and really grinned for the first time since I've seen him.

"So, what's with the colorful ponies that can talk?" He asked, accepting his gallon of beer with a raised eyebrow.

"First off, this whiskey is a fucking shot. As with the ponies, well we're in namby pamby ponyland that has magic and other mythical species residing in it. Almost parallel to Earth, except for the inhabitants." I explained. "They have good beer, though." I added, draining the rest of the cup with a grunt.

"Hope you don't get drunk off your ass." Duran muttered.

"Bah! I got a lot of tolerance to alcohol. I've got Irish, Scottish, British, and German blood, and I'm pretty sure I got a bit of Russian as well." I said, waving my hand. "It takes more than a pony shot of whiskey to get me drunk, and I know my limits."

"Hell, I won't be able to finish off a fourth of this thing, myself." Duran muttered. "Also, how much is this?"

"Your money's worthless now. I'll pay for your drink if you get a job soon and pay me back. I don't need any interest, since I'm getting 800 gold coins a year now." I said, pulling out a few bits and putting them on the table.

"REAL gold?" Duran asked with a raised eyebrow, picking up a bit and looking at it in shock.

"Dawn said that each bit is roughly 50 American dollars. I find it fully as hell, to be honest. Go find a job and give me a bit from your first paycheck and we'll call it even." I said.

"By the way, how in the name of Christ are you up and walking?"

"Magic." Was all that I said, causing him to stare at me in disbelief. After several seconds, he sighed and shook his head.

"Moving on..." He muttered, before taking a gulp of booze. "Alright, so what're we going to do with the bodies? It's not like we can put them in a casket and ship them home with a flag." He asked.

"We can do two of those three, and it's the middle one that we can't do. I'll get the local dressmaker to make three American flags as best as she can, before finding a coffin maker and getting three custom coffins for them. We'll bury them as best as we can, after cleaning them up and giving them the flag. Just because we're on a different planet and or universe, doesn't mean they won't be buried as I'll be." I explained, before getting up. "I'll see you later, Master Sergeant." I added. He got up and gave me a salute, which I returned after a second.

Well, I've never been rammed into by a Humvee so I apologize to whoever has if I got the pain wrong. And it's kinda short, so sorry.