"So, are you all prepared?" I questioned the seven people standing in front of me. The people I was brining in my merry ol' Cougar JERRV MRAP(aka Sparky) were as follows; Bill Murray, Brandon Duffy, Luke Gallan, Helmut Schmidt, Rick Duran, Lex Deurring, and Blake Mactavish. They all nodded, causing me to check my DMR once.

"We're going in squads of two; Blake, you're with Rick. Gallan, you're with Schmidt. Huka, you're with Duffy. Bill, you're with me and the guard Celestia wants us to bring." I told them. "Any questions?"

"Who's staying behind to keep the entrance open?" Huka asked.

"You and Duffy; the bunker's close quarters and a sniper rifle ain't CQC." I said. "Duffy'll be able to pick targets off at a distance while you cover his ass." They nodded.

"How long do we have?" Blake asked. I took a moment to reply, fingering a paper in my hand. Spike was standing next to my leg, waiting on me to give it to him so he could send it.

"Less than twelve hours." I answered. "One of the people who ended up here last night is a tech head, so we're hauling whatever we can back so he can look it over. When my team leaves, that bunker's being sealed and blown up."

"How come?" Gallan asked in confusion. "Shouldn't we just reclaim it?"

"A friend of mine advised that it absolutely needs to be destroyed." I sighed. "I managed to convince him that I'll do it, so he won't be coming with us."

'Not that I'd disobey the Doctor.' I thought. 'He knows what's best, usually, without telling anybody the details. Just look at the Daleks.'

"What are we allowed to bring?" Bill asked.

"Usual kit." I answered, grabbing a fiddy and tossing it to Duffy with a small grunt. "M82 also ain't CQC, so you're still pulling sentry duty." He nodded with a small grin; boy loves his bigass bullets like the rest of us. "Kit up, we're leaving in half an hour. Bring some goddamn water, too!" I called out, before grabbing about eight two liters of water and putting them into my super pocket.

"Think I should go shotty or automatic?" Bill asked as I contemplated using my M60.

"Since we don't have a wide variety of shotguns, go with an automatic." I answered. He nodded and looked over the sub-machine guns.

'We could really use a PPsH-41. Good ass gun and it chambers 9mm.' I thought, shaking my head and grabbing an MP40. Looking out over the seven others, I noted that they were either choosing automatic rifles, shotguns, or sub-machine guns for their primary weapons.

"Remember to grab a pistol, two if you're ambidextrous." I said, grabbing my M1911 and sliding one of my extended magazines into it, before sliding it into a leg holster.

"Hey, Mark." The courier, name of Johnnie Apple (I chuckled), said, fidgeting up to me while I looked over some extended magazines for the MP40. "Could I talk to you for a sec?"

"Sure, come over here." I said, leading him away from the others. "So, what's up?"

"Do ya think I can get out of this thing?" He asked in a low voice, handing me a sheet of parchment. I took it with a raised eyebrow, and began to read.

"Did you even read this damn thing before you signed it?" I asked, looking at him with my face neutral.

"Not really." He sighed. "Being 16, I didn't really sign many papers before."

"Wait, you're 16 and in the Army?" I asked, frowning more. The draft didn't put 16 year olds into the military, that's for damn sure.

"I lied about my age." He said. "So, think I can get out of it?"

"No." I sighed, pushing it back into his chest. "Even if I could, I wouldn't seeing as how you did a dipshit move when you didn't read the damn contract. The CMCs pretty much own you now, and I can't do a damn thing about it. It's not slavery, more like making an oath."

"How old are they?" He asked, taking a glance behind him. Schmidt looked over for a second, causing Johnnie to gulp in nervousness.

"16 in human years." I answered. "They're in their twenties, but not an adult yet. I'll speak to their families and make sure they don't do anything else like this again." AJ, Rarity, and Schmidt were going to be pissed. I'm just thankful that Apple's name wasn't on here; girl's got more smarts than it looks. I suddenly remembered something and called everyone (except Huka, he explained the situation to me earlier) over to me.

"What is it?" Schmidt asked. In response, I grabbed a bag out of my super pocket and pretty much coated everyone in poison joke powder, with the exception of Huka and I.

"We're leaving tomorrow. Something came up just now." I said with a grin. All of them looked confused until Gallan started coughing, followed by everyone else.

"What the fuck did you do to us?!" Blake coughed out, falling to his knees.

"Poison Joke!" I chirped. "The effects won't kill you, I just want to see what you'll turn into."

"What does that mean?!" Gallan wheezed, before his eyes rolled up into the back of his head and he collapsed. The others did so momentarily, while I looked at Huka.

"Is that how I acted?" He asked in confusion, setting his Famas to the side.

"I dunno." I answered. "It happened to me a lot faster than that. What did you turn into, anyway?"

"A buffalo." He said with a shrug. I hmm'd and stepped around the unconscious group.

"Go on and go get something to eat." I told him, pointing at the door. "When this lot wakes up, I'll send them after you. Where're you eating?"

"The cafe down the street." He answered while looking through his many pockets. "Shit, do you have any bits I could borrow?"

"Here." I said, tossing a small pouch full of the gold at him. With a nod, he excused himself and left to go get some pizza or something.

Half an hour passed before a groan came from where Gallan was. Turning around, I could only stare.

Gallan was a changeling.
Schmidt was a male Sparklebutt.
Duffy was a male Dashie.
Bill was also a changeling, though bigger than Gallan.
Blake was a fucking dragon, though the size of me.
Duran was a male Cheerilee.
Johnathan was a male Sweetie Belle, and the size of her.

Seeing as how Schmidt and Duffy were male versions of their lovers, I'm surprised Gallan wasn't a male Pinkie. Hell, I think the universe would rip apart if there were two of her, different genders or not.

"Feh." Was all I said, throwing my arms in the air. Bill was the first to glare at me, but I waved him off.

"When ya'll are done being pissy at me, come down to the cafe on the corner; Huka's paying." I said and left.

When I took a seat across from Huka, a letter popped into existence from Sunbutt.

'General Durnkinscoff,

I would like to know how the new armor is doing, as I want to make it the official human's uniform. When you finish replying, press the seal to return it.
Princess Celestia, Raiser of the Sun.'

I pulled a pencil from my super pocket (It took a moment, and I stabbed myself with a trench knife.) and scribbled out my reply.

'Dear Sunbutt,

The armor's doing fine so far (I tested a .50 BMG bullet on it and it only left a small dent. Hate to feel one hit, though.), but I need to use it in a combat scenario before giving you the go ahead. The trip to the bunker will hopefully provide adequate testing grounds, as I know how bloody paranoid the U.S. military was.
General Mark Durnkinscoff, That One Guy Who Blows Shit Up.'

With a small and highly unnessesary self given title, I pressed the seal and watched as it caught fire and the ashes were swept away by a breeze that wasn't there.

"What was that about?" Huka asked as he took another bite of his sammich.

"Sunbutt wants to give all of the humans ODST armor, and I'm field testing the first set." I answered. "When we get back from the bunker, I'll have an adequate field report to give her."

"Think we'll run into something?" Huka rose an eyebrow. I chuckled a little.

"I was there and I don't know how much of that bunker was rigged to fuck over intruders." I answered. Apple bounded over and perched on my shoulder, while I chewed on a mouthful of sandwich.

Next Chapter: Road Trip (With Death!) Estimated time remaining: 8 Hours, 3 Minutes