Mac opened his eyes to see it was morning...warm, morning sunshine was shining through his window. He had survived the hammer. But shouldn't he still be out? He was terribly groggy, he was sore and stiff from sleeping on the floor, and he had a splitting headache...but he was otherwise conscious and fine. He wasn't sure how this could be...he briefly recalled having thrown back those benzos and vodka...not to mention a heavy dose of oxies and about three fourths of a bottle of bourbon. He shouldn't have any thoughts whatsoever right now, let alone be awake and functioning. Magnificent. So he could survive overdosing on every psychoactive, fucking enema known to equinity, but he couldn't learn to function as a normal pony? At least he'd been here before...not that he'd enjoyed visiting this place before in any particular sense. But he knew what to expect.

He should still be completely oblivious to the world. Even his subconscious should be unconscious. But he was awake. He must've developed a crazy cross-tolerance to all those downers. He rolled over the wooden floorboards of his room to check the time on his alarm clock atop his nightstand. It was 0812...good thing it was Sunday, otherwise AJ would've kicked his door down by now. (She still might.) He rolled back down and reclined on the floor...he let his mind wander while the gilded rays of the mid-morning sunshine warmed his face....he was thinking about his past again... This was a memory...a daydream. It was like a movie on a projector screen, replaying some of the most significant moments of his life. He remembered this memory like it was yesterday...it was his first op as a special forces operator. It had been a defining moment for him. A catharsis even...well...maybe not that dramatic...

Cpl. John Macintosh Apple and 1st Lt. Grey Dawn were lying in a ditch on the wide expanse of the mortar-scarred field that lay before Ft. Redrock. The fort had been re-appropriated by the Griffons, it's battlements and walls re-purposed to defend them. The mortars fired nonstop, lighting up the early morning sky with intervals of white flashes...followed by candescent, red orange blooms when the ordinance reached the scorched earth. The two stallions had been lying in the ditch with the ghillie sheet over them for about two days now. It wasn't so bad...during training, Mac had gone on like this for over a week. This was a cakewalk. The on-and-off artillery salvos made it a bit hard to sleep back at the FOB, but he'd gotten used to it. It wasn't as though he needed the sleep now. All twelve stallions of Mac's unit had taken high dosages of Type 39A Combat Amphetamine, so they were all pretty tweaked out. They wouldn't need to sleep until the next day. Still...he REALLY needed to pee. He'd been holding it for almost a day.

They had been slowly inching toward the battlements to get within crossbow range for two nights, crawling closer in the prone position with tiny, incremental movements that were barely noticeable. They couldn't move at all during the light of day. The field they were in was well-zeroed by the Griffons...in fact...the ditch they were lying in now was actually a crater made by a mortar shell. At night, they would wait to move closer in between shots from the mortars, as the big guns lit up the entire field in front of the fort every time they fired. Not a good time to be noticed by the spotters on the battlements. It had been a painstaking, miserable process. But...they were almost in position. It was almost time to attack...

Ft. Redrock was a border fort positioned just north of the Drackenridge Mountains on the very edge of the contested border of the Gryphonic and Equestrian Empires in the untamed Northern Wilds. It was a rather small fort...seemingly insignificant. Beyond having been used as a gunpowder and munitions supply depot for passing special forces patrols and rangers, it had no real tactical worth...beyond a disproportionately large battery of undeployed Equestrian-made long-range cannons that were sitting unused in the fort's armory. Occasionally, rangers would pass through the place to resupply and to receive medical attention after weeks of scouting the Wilds...there was seemingly no reason to attack the fort. The Griffons had far superior cannons to the ones in the fort's armory.

But the Griffons had attacked it anyway...at least, one Lt. Colonel Talon de Guerre of the Gryphonic 33rd Artillery Battery based at the Gryphonic city of Pisa to the north had attacked it. Lt. Col. de Guerre had attacked and overwhelmed the fort's measly defending force of 300 noncombat soldiers with his own hardened force of 1,200 Griffons; a thousand infantrymen and two hundred artillerymen. From what little intel Mac's unit had acquired from flyovers by the Imperial Air Corps, there were about 120 surviving Equestrian soldiers being held captive in the brig...it wasn't comfortable accommodations. The tiny brig had only been built to house around twenty miscreants at a time. The heat had been broiling this summer, too. The possibility of heat stroke was high. Mac's unit had to move fast, if they were going to save the prisoners inside the fort.

The Lt. Col. seemingly had acted alone in seizing the fort, as the Grand Marshall had secretly sent a message to the Princesses. He told them that the artillery commander was acting of his own volition, and that he condemned the unlawful seizure of the fort. The message was most likely true, seeing as to how the Grand Marshall didn't want to risk another devastating war with the Equestrian Empire. It was likely that Monsieur de Guerre had acted without his government's support...he had been on the front lines years before during the Gryphonic Wars. He had possibly held a grudge. Unfortunately, there was no reliable way for the Gryphonic Imperium to order the Lt. Col. to stand down were he to have not acted of his own volition...all the radios left at Ft. Redrock were short-range.

They were outside the range of the nearest Gryphonic comm station. The Equestrian defenders had smashed all the long-range equipment before being captured to prevent the Griffons from using it against them...the irony. The Gryphonic Imperium had tried to send official, stamped orders telling the fort's new owners to stand down, but the besieged Griffons had only thought it was an Equestrian ploy using forged documents. The Imperial Air Corps had even tried air dropping documents containing parley terms into the fort's courtyard, but the fort's defenders were dubious and refused to accept anything short of a high-ranking officer's direct command. And of course...the Griffons had refused to send any military envoy in person to stop the siege...this entire ordeal would likely cause even more tension between the two, massive empires.

"Shhh....take it slow, big guy...easy...nice an' easy...almost there...", said Dawn in a barely audible whisper.

Mac was getting antsy. He really had to take a leak. Dehydrated as he was or not. But they were almost in position...almost. A few more meters, and they could start the operation. Suddenly, an Equestrian salvo detonated on the side of the fort, chipping a small chunk off the wall of the fort. It had been a pointless gesture. The Griffonic artillery team on the western battlement to where Mac and Dawn had been inching towards returned fire...it was surprising how well-trained they were. Their speed alone was impressive. They must drill constantly back in their homeland.

"Now that was goddang stupid...they're gonna' give us away...fuckin' idiots, man..."

"Yeah. They're too early. Dumbasses. I hope somepony loses his fucking stripes for that...hmm... It's almost time, Loco." It was. At sunrise, 0515 exactly, the four teams of Malleis Irae snipers would take out each of the four battlement artillery teams...all synced to the same time.

"Eeyup...roger...you reckon we're in range yet?" Dawn slowly took out a pair of binoculars from his ghillie pack, putting them to his eyes.

"Close. One more meter. Check the time."

"0510."

"Neato. Hopefully, the wind'll die down by then...I am NOT looking forward to how hot it's gonna' get today. Forecast on the radio back at the FOB said today was gonna' get all the way up in the upper nineties, dude." Mac quietly chuckled...who cared about something so trivial in the face of such blatant danger?

"Eh...you'll be fine, man. But I'm gonna' fuckin' roast...my coat's a lot thicker..." They were no longer worried about being heard....there was too much ambient noise coming from the fort. The distant rumbling of the Equestrian artillery batteries had stopped...they wouldn't start again until five minutes more. That was all Mac's unit needed for the first phase of the operation. It was almost time...five minutes. Five more minutes.

"Yeah. But you don't have this glorious, thick mustache keeping you warm." It was a casual conversation that would've never taken place in recon and regular units. They were informal. Like friends. Brothers.

"Hey, I got some pretty thick five o'clock shadow right now..."

"Awww...you're twying to gwow a weal stallion's beard...that's cute..."

"Fuck you, boss..hehehe..."

"No, my friend...fuck you...fuck you so good, girl...mmmm...damn...you about ready there, Red?" Mac chuckled and slowly nodded.

He checked his watch again....0513. Two minutes. If they fucked this up, the arty team on the western battlement would blow them to pieces. Mac had watched for two days as Equestrian Army regulars had been blown to hell by the big guns, trying to retake the fort. He and Grey had slowly crawled across the field...it had been littered with the burnt, shredded corpses of hundreds of Equestrian infantry. The skill of the Gryphonic gunners was incredible. Several responding field commanders had wanted to make a name for themselves by sending phalanx after phalanx to besiege the well-defended fort. Idiotic. It was an outdated medium of warfare. The Griffons' powerful mortars had completely driven the Equestrian infantry from the field...now...the Equestrians would have to rely on Mac's unit to end the stalemate. Firearms were at their advent...granted, most ponies couldn't use them due to their tiny, delicate trigger housings being inoperable by hooves. Thus, most Equestrian troops were restricted to using pony-made crossbows that held their hoof-accessible trigger housings inside the stock...of course, this gave the Griffons a considerable, technological advantage in penetrating most body armor.

But Mac wasn't too concerned. The Griffons' muskets were powerful, but they were highly inaccurate, noisy, and they left a thick field of obscuring smoke after each shot...leaving the musketeer wide open to Equestrian marksmen. Also, they took forever to load and prep for each, individual shot. The Equestrian Mk-12b, single-action combat crossbow was easy to load and fire. It didn't have the range or power of the Gryphonic muskets, but it was much more accurate and faster to fire. Mac could get off up to eight bolts a minute compared to a well-drilled musketeer's single shot per minute...even some Griffons preferred the sleek accuracy of the crossbow to their own firearms. Mac's elite unit had ordered it's structure around the crossbow and musket. This was a fairly advanced methodology of warfare. Even the Griffon's elite special forces weren't as well-trained as the Malleis Irae. Even if they didn't have the best gear, they could easily compensate with skill and prowess. Mac could shoot a gnat's dick off at 150 meters with his own crossbow...he wasn't the best shot in his unit, but even the worst shot in his unit was an superb marksman by default.

But the mortar had leveled the playing field once again. Somehow, the invading Griffons had managed to mount four, massive mortars atop the fort's battlements after taking said fort. The Equestrians had designed several different types and calibers of cannons themselves, but the Gryphonic Type 22 Siege Mortar had proven itself to be a devastating, anti-infantry innovation. It fired a unique cannon ball that was hollow and full of an explosive concoction of gunpowder and white phosphorous that literally burned through the outdated Equestrian formations. Also, the massive mortars could fire shrapnel and grapeshot shells into the air to take out Pegasi...the grapeshot shells were essentially canisters that held tightly-packed canvas bags of 38mm, metal ball bearings. This turned the mortar into an over-sized blunderbuss that could swat any airborne enemy out of the sky with little effort...accuracy wasn't needed.

The conical pattern of the ball bearings only needed to be fired into the general direction of any airborne foe. This coupled with the well-drilled Griffons manning the mortars had been devastating. The defending artillerymen atop the battlements of Ft. Redrock had been slaughtering both the regular ground troops and the Pegasi of the Imperial Air Corps for days. But it was especially terrible to watch them shoot down the Pegasi...Mac had watched helplessly for two days as they had shot the poor scouts out of the sky...one young colt had fallen and impaled himself on a gnarled tree branch...Mac had heard him screaming. The boy had been flying less than twenty feet from the ground...the impact hadn't killed him. His agonized shrieks would haunt Mac's dreams for the next four years...another reason he was antsy. He wanted retribution. Close combat was his specialty. Despite the sheer amount of firearms and missile weapons available, the core of modern warfare was still centered around the sword, spear, and shield...which was good for Mac's team. The Griffons had a significant disadvantage up close. Their hollow bones shattered like glass when struck...unfortunately, so did Pegasi bones...

"This is perfect, Loco. Let's set up right here." They were finally within range.

With slow, deliberate movements, Mac unslung his crossbow from his back and took the rain cover off the telescopic sight. He took out two different types of quarrels...both had a different colored stripe painted across their shafts...red and yellow. Mac loaded the yellow-banded bolt into the crossbow's firing tray...he slowly pushed the bolt down into the groove until he heard the familiar click. He pulled back the receiver's charging handle to prime the firing mechanism. He could feel the stored tension in the crossbow...the sheer force. He was ready to fire. But the conditions weren't ideal. Grey was his spotter...he would tell him when to fire...where to fire. Then...then he would know. Then he would turn those fucking Griffons into pink mush. He pushed the crossbow's stock firmly into his shoulder and slid his hoof into the trigger housing...he put his eye to the scope and began surveying the fort...he saw the command and control tower where the fort's commander was likely holed up. There was a flagpole on top of it that held a large flag...a field of blue with three, silver fleur-de-lis. The Gryphonic Imperial Standard was flowing in the breeze over the captured fort. The Griffons had taken down the Equestrian Standard after taking the fort...Mac and his team were going to do something about that. He diverted his survey towards the western battlement. His current target.

"Hmm...easy there, Loco. Wait for that crosswind to die down." The wind was too strong now...it would push the bolt's trajectory off course. As grateful as Mac had been for the breeze in the blazingly hot day before, now it was an impediment. He only had one shot after he fired the spotting bolt. One shot. If he fucked up, the mortar team have them zeroed and blown to pieces in less than thirty seconds. The Griffons were that good.

"I see 'em. Six arties. Loadin' them mortars like crazy. I got a bead on a bag of powder. That'll be enough to take out the whole team." Grey nodded and looked over to check Mac's watch.

"Thirty seconds. We'll wait until we got ten seconds left...then we'll shoot off the spotting bolt." Grey returned his focus to his pair of binos...the lenses had been smoked to prevent any reflecting glare from giving away their position. Mac could see the red plume of feathers on each artilleryman's helmet, signifying his rank as an NCO. Twenty more seconds...

"Distance: 150 meters. Wind is dying. Got a picture on the powder bag. Binos got the elevation at about six degrees. Whaddya' got for your sight picture, man?"

"'Bout the same on scope. Trajectory looks like it levels off at about six degrees at this range, boss...wind?" Mac adjusted his elevation. Ten more seconds...

"Negligible...crosswind's died down...two degrees to the left should do it at the most. You zeroed, Loco?" Mac adjusted his windage accordingly. Five seconds...

"Done. Ready, LT?"

"Ready...fire...fire...fire..." Mac tensed...he breathed in a massive breath...and slowly exhaled...this was it. Mac slowly pulled the trigger...the crossbow jolted with recoil as it's heavy quarrel departed...he watched through his scope as it detonated a fluorescent orange payload of paint against the very top portion of the battlement behind the burlap sack of gunpowder, marking it's position inches above the target. It was just shy of the target.

"Miss!! Reload!" Grey grabbed the red-banded bolt and slid it into Mac's left hoof. Mac quickly reloaded the crossbow and primed it. This was it. He knew exactly what corrections to make to hit the powder bag now.

"Loaded. Lowerin' elevation by two degrees...too high before...ready." Grey frantically repeated the spotting process. They didn't have much time. Mac could see through his scope that the Gryphonic mortar team's spotter was surveying the field with his own pair of binos...he had noticed the bright splotch of orange paint. The two stallions wouldn't get another shot after this one.

"Wind's still the same...fire...fire...fire..." Mac breathed in another heavy breath...he exhaled...and slowly pulled the trigger...the familiar shunk sound of the crossbow and following recoil signified the fragmentary bolt's departure...he watched the bolt fly...it hit dead center into the bag of gunpowder.

"Hit!! My nigga!! Damn good shot, Loco! Look at 'em go! Now we gotta' move, man!!" The two stallions quickly rose to their hooves and threw off their ghillie covers, sprinting towards the deep trenches surrounding the fort.

The frag bolt had detonated the bag of powder, completely annihilating the mortar team...a mist of blood showered the battlement and a rain of Griffon feathers slowly floated down the side of the fort...they had succeeded in taking out their assigned target. And so had the other three sniper teams, as the two stallions heard a series of similar explosions from each of the four corners of the fort. The fort's guns had fallen silent...temporarily. Now they needed to book it. The Equestrian batteries began opening fire now...as planned...this time, it was actually a planned action. The heavy salvos began battering the walls of the fort, suppressing the Gryphonic musketeers atop the battlements from shooting the approaching stallions.

But the musketeers were the least of their worries now...if the forward observer for the Equestrian batteries had used the wrong coordinates or a single shell veered off course, then this would be a short op. But they made it. They reached the deep, dark trench and jumped in. They were safe for now. It didn't seem as though the Griffons above had noticed their approach...they'd been too busy ducking in cover behind the parapets to avoid shrapnel. So far, the operation was going smoothly. Now they had to meet up with the rest of their team and the two Griffons working for the Interior Ministry at the rendezvous point. But Mac had more pressing business to which he needed to attend...

"Hold up, LT. Just a second..." Mac unbuttoned his heavy, canvas trousers and turned towards the slope of the trench.

"Tinkle time? Huh. Good idea, Loco. If I'm gonna' die, I ain't dyin' with piss stains on my pants, dude. Scoot over..." Grey stood next to Mac as they relieved themselves.

"Sweet Celestia, boss...been holdin' that all day...alright....h-hey, man! Don't piss on my boots!...man...yer an asshole. You ready?"

"Hehehe...yeah. Let's head to the rendezvous point." The quietly began striding through the dark, muddy trench.

Thankfully, they knew exactly where to go. All Equestrian forts, especially supply depots like Ft. Redrock, had the same, utilitarian layout. All they needed to do was follow the trench to the edge of the front gate. The Equestrian batteries had stopped firing...they'd done their job. There was no point in continuously bombarding the fort, as an errant shell could kill the prisoners in the brig. Mac and Grey passed the corpse of a Gryphonic infantryman...his throat had been cut. He hadn't been killed by the snipers.

"That wasn't our doing...must've been one our birds on the inside. Almost there, Loco. Hey...there they are...and there're our bird friends. For a second, I almost shot 'em." Grey slung his crossbow across his back...he'd had it at the ready moments before.

Mac could see the other ten stallions of his squad all hunkered up to the side of the trench, hidden by the dark shadow cast by the fort's drawbridge. He could see two massive, olive drab bags of gear...their gear. They would need it for the second part of the operation. Mac could also see the feathered forms of two Equestrian Griffons disguised in the rather frou-frou armor and garments of the Gryphonic Imperial Army. Two red plumes of feathers stuck up from their shiny, iron helmets...Mac had always found the Griffons' uniforms to be a bit ridiculous. Flourishes and fancy feathers...(Hehehe...makes 'em one hell of a target...) Mac quietly caught the attention of one of the masked stallions from his squad. It was Sergeant Forest...

"Yo! Forest! Me'n LT on the approach." Forest waved.

"You guys are late. Twenty seconds late...tsk, tsk, tsk. Sloppy." Mac could tell that Forest was grinning with relief even with much of his face covered entirely by the dark green shemagh. He was glad they'd made it. 1st Lt. Grey silenced him.

"Shut up, Forest. You have an absurdly small penis. Anyway, everypony good to go? No boo-boos? No ouchies? Everypony take a tinkle break?" All ten stallions nodded silently. They'd all made it. So far, the op was off to a perfect start. One of the disguised Griffons stepped forward to greet the lieutenant with a lit cigarette in his beak. He had a charcoal black coat and grey feathers.

"1st Lt. Dawn? I'm Agt. Boldfeather and this is Agt. Brilliant Sky. We've already rigged the front gate to blow...you just need to light the fuse. All your gear's been stashed right here. Shields and all. Those shields were pretty heavy, too." Boldfeather didn't have any semblance of a Gryphonic accent. He'd likely been born and raised in Equestria.

"Cool. You guys run into any trouble in there?", asked Grey.

"Not much. Agt. Sky did most of the talking, so we were good for the most part. One of battlement guards asked me for a light, though...didn't have much choice. He was on to me. Had to take him out." Boldfeather procured a bloodied combat knife...it's serrated edges were still covered in gristle from the slain Griffon's throat.

"Cool. Any new intel on the resistance inside? Any update?" Agt. Briller Ciel, a smaller Griffon with an off-white, cream-colored coat and feathers, stepped forward...rather than the simple, Equestrianized accent of his compatriot, he had a thick Gryphonic flourish to his pronunciation. He'd been naturalized recently.

"Bonjour, mes amis à sabots! I am Agt. Briller Ciel. Not much has changed, Lieutenant. They have enough gunpowder and ammunition in the fort to keep bombarding the field for weeks...the plan has not altered...you will have to capture or kill the commander. The sentries inside the fort have diverged their attention from the front gate...they do not think there will be another frontal attack. You should catch them completely by suprise, mon ami. But you should still expect some heavy resistance...putain merde, yeah?" Mac had to admit...that accent was a pleasure to the ears. No wonder mares loved the language so much. Having learned to fluently speak the fancy, silken language himself had perhaps fostered his liking to it. It was also funny how they pronounced their "th" words like "they"...(...they say "zey" 'stead a' "they"...hehehe...) But Grey had a few more questions.

"Got it. Thanks. But did you guys learn anything new about the commander or his orders?" Agt. Sky nodded.

"Oui, mon ami. I was able to overhear a few conversations between the commander and his communications officer. Lt. Col. de Guerre is frantic. He seems confused as why he's yet to receive reinforcements from Pisa. He believes his government condoned his attack...an unlikely possibility. He is convinced that he received the order to take the fort from his own chain of command. It is possible that one of his superiors did indeed give the order to attack, but the Grand Marshall would never order such a thing. It would be foolish. There would be no reason...no incentive. It is possible, though, that this has all been a big miscommunication...a terrible thing to think about, when you see how many have died around us, no? Also, be wary of the commander himself...he's dangerous. He's still very strong for his age, and he's a very good shot with a pistol. You will likely have to kill him, I'm afraid. He's not the sort of Griffon to willingly surrender, you see." Grey nodded. This was all rather confusing to Mac. Who gave the order to attack Ft. Redrock? What could the Griffons have possibly gained from all this pointless bloodshed?

"Roger that. Thanks for the assist, gents...you've been a lot of help. You guys can take off now. Adieu, mes amis à plumes.", responded Grey. The two Griffons began tearing off their Gryphonic Imperial patches that signified the rank and status of their disguises and took off their helmets and armor...Mac looked down at one of the patches...the fleur-de-lis on a coat of blue....Agent Ciel had stomped on his own patch. Apparently, he had a grudge against his native country for whatever reason.

"Adieu et bonne chance, Lieutenant.", replied Agt. Sky.

"Uhh...yeah, sure...thanks man...omelet du fromage, foie gras, c'est la vie...an' all that other shit. Good luck, guys." Mac chuckled. The young Interior Ministry agent didn't speak a lick of his fellow Griffon's language. And Mac spoke Gryphonique fluently...(oh, the irony.) The SF operators watched as the two Griffons quietly sneaked away. Now it was time to attack. Mac had been waiting for this.

"Let's get ready to blow the gate, boys. Grab your gear." The squad of stallions complied.

They all began gearing up, unzipping the heavy, canvas bags and arming themselves appropriately. Mac took a second to check his gear. The heavy, leather cuirass he wore had a thick chainmail weave in it with a leather tactical harness holding various daggers, crossbow bolts, and tools. Underneath his armor and gear, Mac was wearing a thick, olive drab canvas blouse to prevent chafing and cargo trousers...they were water-resistant and fire-retardant. Unfortunately, they tended to trap sweat...so did the cuirass. The cuirass was cutting edge tech. It was flexible and offered decent protection, but it was far too heavy for the average soldier. Luckily, the SF operators weren't average soldiers. They had about four times the strength and endurance of regular stallions, damn near making them superequine.

Mac rose to his rear hooves and tucked his cargo trousers back into his tall pair of combat boots and tightened the straps...they were lined with a thick felt that essentially functioned a sweat-absorbing sock....unlike his blouse and trousers. Most ponies had never even worn boots, seeing as they had hooves and didn't often walk on two legs. But Mac and his unit did...they were exceedingly dextrous with their forehooves and skilled in fighting on two legs. Supposedly, they'd gotten the idea from the Griffons...but the Old Horse tribes and Equus Empire had depictions of equines fighting on two hooves. Where had they learned it? Regardless, Mac knew that both swordplay and marksmanship were impossible on four hooves. How would you grip the pommel of your sword or properly load and aim your crossbow while standing on four hooves? Massive phalanxes consisting of hundreds of stallions moving forward with spears in rigid formations was okay for a four-legged posture, but ponies couldn't hold two-hoofed weapons and maintain a semblance of mobility that way.

Of course, a pony had better stability and traction on four hooves, but that's the purpose for which Mac's boots were intended. Traction and protection were essential for two-legged fighting, and the lug sole-patterned tread, steel shank, and steel toe of his boots filled both necessities. But...they had a down side...once again, they were too heavy for most soldiers to wear, thus the majority of Equestria's military went bare-hoofed. But...Mac's thoughts were trailing him off as usual...it was a good thing that powerful mix of amphetamine salts was helping him stay energized and focused on the task at hand. (Sort of...still fadin' off a bit...man, I'm high as fuck right now.) Mac still needed to grab some more gear for the op. He stomped his boots into the dirt to get out all the rocks that were caught in the cleats. The rocks could shift and tumble while he stepped forward and cause him to trip or lose his stability. Better safe than sorry. (Don't wanna' bust my fuckin' head open on my first op...that'd be a goddang embarrassin' way to go, man.)

He grabbed one of the preloaded grenade belts from one of the open canvas bags and buckled it around his waist. He checked the various grenades for defects...they were good. He grabbed one of the massive, steel shields out of the bag. It was an enormous, rectangular olive drab-painted shield that was damn near impervious to small arms fire. It weighed about 60 lbs. It would be an absolute necessity for this operation. Mac pulled his thick, chainmail-woven hood over his head and strapped the leather holster that kept the hood down tightly around his chin. The hood had a steel plate in it to help combat concussive force, but it was too damn hot to wear all the time...the heavy canvas and chainmail of the hood would've made him sweat bullets out on the sun-battered field the day before. Mac reach down and grabbed a long, steel pike out of the bag and leaned his shield up against the side of the trench.

He pulled his olive drab shemagh over his face, wrapping it tight to conceal his face, then he picked his shield back up. It was an enchanted piece of cloth...thick and completely waterproof. It had an enchanted crystalline weave that filtered out smoke, gas, and even water from the ambient oxygen gas...if you pulled it tight enough around your face and made a good seal, you could actually breath underwater with the damn thing. It would offer decent protection against the smoke and dust of the coming assault. Mac knew this gear was top of the line...(...not compared to the Griffons' gear, it ain't)...but it was heavy. All in all, he was carrying almost 120 lbs. of equipment...this was almost as much as most stallions weighed. But this measly weight was nothing to John Apple...he was a freak. A genetic anomaly. Good thing for him. The only normal ponies who could carry all this heavy shit were the musclebound recon Rangers and Malleis Irae operator stallions. That's why there were no mares or Pegasi in his unit. There was no way the average mare could carry all this gear. It weighed as much as most stallions. Muscle was an absolute necessity. More so even than speed or endurance. How would a 60-80 lbs mare carry her wounded comrade to safety or have the strength necessary to fight in close combat with a large opponent? It was just asinine.

It was the same reason Pegasus stallions couldn't join the special forces...while their hollow bones and slender builds were perfect for flying and speed, their fragile physiologies made them too prone to injury and deficient in strength to carry all the necessary gear. The same went for mares. It wasn't that Mac felt threatened or annoyed by the possibility of female infantry...it was just that he knew it was a socially engineered idea that would fail and take a lot of ponies down with it. (The physiological differences between the genders is just goddang evolution...it's science...it don't matter how much ya' wanna' change reality to accommodate yer personal feelin's...it ain't gonna' do that.) But Mac had no problems with mares becoming doctors, lawyers, or even politicians...there wasn't any significant difference between the intellects of a mare and a stallion. Mares had roughly the same brain mass to body ratios as stallions. There was no reason they couldn't excel in any intellectual pursuits or even some athletic ones, so long as brute strength wasn't required. Hell, the Equestrian Empire was already a matriarchy! It was ruled by mostly females. Both regents were mares, and half of the Senate was mares, too. The only female Mac had ever known who might be able to physically handle the frontlines would be his little sister, AJ...but she'd never have the heart to hurt anypony...she was tough as nails, but she was too tenderhearted and sweet. His mind had trailed off topic again...

"Focus...okay...got my stuff....pike is nice an' sharp...got my smoke grenades...phosphorous grenades an' flares...good..." Mac's nearby buddy and squadmate, Sgt. Tyrone Shield had noticed Mac talking to himself.

"Nigga...who you talkin' to? You losin' it, Loco? Hehehe...I'm just messin' with ya', man..." Mac chuckled. He'd already "lost it." He doubted he could ever find it again, too.

"Yeah...I do that sometimes. Don't know why." They were speaking in quiet, hushed tones...it wasn't likely that the Griffons above them manning the parapets would hear them, but it was better to err on the side of caution.

"Must be them supercharged-ass thoughts runnin' 'round that giant brain of yours, dude. Thinkin' 'bout a hundred different things at once or somethin'."

Sgt. Shield was a cream-coated stallion with a pitch black buzzed mane, green eyes, and a well-groomed goatee. He was a half-breed: His mother had been a naturalized, Equestrian Zebra, and his father had been a Unicorn who worked as a police officer in Detrot. Mac could see the faint Zebra stripes where Tyrone's face wasn't obscured by his shemagh. The mixed race stallion looked mostly pony, but his barely visible stripes still gave him away a bit. It wasn't as though Mac especially cared...he didn't have anything against Zebras or the interracial relationships some equines chose for themselves. Also, Tyrone stuck out a bit from his fellow operators beyond just his faint Zebra stripes.

The tall, lanky Unicorn had inherited his mother's slim build. He was the slimmest and least physically powerful of all twelve of Mac's musclebound friends, albeit he was still incredibly strong when compared to a normal stallion. The lanky Unicorn compensated for this with his extensive skill with magic...he was especially renowned for his shield barrier spell. His family had actually been named for their inherited ability to create nearly impenetrable barriers that blocked magic, bullets, and blades alike. And Tyrone wasn't a one-trick pony...he almost rivaled Celestia's little, purple protege herself in magical talent, prowess, and ubiquity....he knew an absurd amount of combat, medical, and transportation spells. Grey knew a good bit of magic himself, but he couldn't match Tyrone's prodigious skill with the arcane.

"Nah. Just thinkin' 'bout one thing, an' somethin' else grabs my attention." Sgt. Shield chuckled.

"Boy...that's stupid...hehehe...I don't know how you can just fade off like that, when we 'bout to jump into the meat grinder. An' you a mothafuckin' genius?"

It was just some friendly shit-talk. All twelve stallions regularly poked fun at one another, especially when they were about to put their lives on the line. Shield's lingo and accent also seemingly amplified things that were already funny to a nearly hysterical degree. Mac remembered how Ty had gotten drunk that one night at a bar with Grey, Steel, and the rest of the team to celebrate Mac's induction into the Malleis Irae. The goofy, half-breed Unicorn walked around the bar yelling "Hooooolldddd myyy diiiiiccccckkk!" at random intervals. He'd also decided to go up to the biggest guy in the bar and asked "You wanna' fight?! Nigga, Imma' deck you right in yo' pussy!!!" in a comical, singsong voice.

The big stallion in question had wisely declined to fight...a wise decision for his physical well-being, albeit Tyrone had only goaded him for comedic effect and likely wouldn't have hurt the guy. After that bit of nonsense, Ty decided to hit on a rather pretty, green Pegasus sitting by herself at the bar. The whole time he was chatting her up, Grey was blurting out random, terrible bits of advice to him: "Tell her you're hung like a jury! Buy her a magazine subscription to "Butt Stallion Monthly!" Tell her you can make really good salsa. Bitches love salsa! Ask if you can pee in her butt...no, don't ask. Just do it. They love when you take control. Oh, and ask if she has a cute friend who'd like a mustache ride."

Between Grey and Shield, Mac sometimes found it impossible to be serious. But what had really shocked the hell out of Mac and his friends was watching the pretty filly, Cherry Pine, take a shine to Ty and his stupid jokes. Especially after Grey had been catcalling the two of them the entire time. The two of them had actually hooked up together that same night...and Cherry would later become Ty's fiance. Mac had remembered the utterly ridiculous pick-up line Ty told him he'd used...it had been a mildly offensive and stupid line that Grey had dared him to use: Ty had walked up to Cherry and blatantly told her they were going to have sex. She asked how he could be so certain. He said because he was stronger than her....and that had actually worked. Even though he found it funny, Mac no longer held any belief in a just universe. He could be a perfect gentlecolt and stay loveless...but Ty could behave like a complete horse's ass and end up with the girl of his dreams? Karma clearly worked inversely as to how ponies thought it did. Then again, Mac was a somewhat psychotic drug-addict with a rather nasty case of suppressed rage. Maybe that had something to do with it. (Oh, well. At least I can get too trashed to care. Like right now.)

"Loco! You fadin' out again? Damn, mothafucka'. You like one a' them fuckin' stoners, takin' acid an' starin' at cacti'n shit in the desert....hehehehe...focus, man! Steel was right 'bout yo' ass. Creepy, quiet-ass mothafucka'...starin' off into space an' shit...I betchu' gon' start wearing some nigga's skin an' run around with yo'' dick tucked 'tween yo' legs...hehehe...crazy, man...hehehe..." Mac snapped back to the current. How'd he managed to fade out twice in a row? He merely shrugged at Ty's statement. Mac's team continued to collect their gear and prep for the assault. A high-pitched, manic voice with a country drawl upbraided Tyrone.

"Hey, man, if'n he's anywhere near as crazy as Steel an' the LT says, I wouldn't be givin' him any trouble, Shieldy. That's asinine...like pokin' a tiger in the ass with a stick...hehehe....I sure wouldn't wanna' piss him off after what I heard tell 'bout what he's done.", chimed in Cpl. Cornshuck, a big, tan-coated Earth pony with a crew-cut blonde mane, and cobalt blue eyes...he stood a head shorter than Shield, but he was about twice as wide and muscular.

Mac had found out that Cornshuck had actually been born and raised in Ponyville and was a distant relative of the Apple family upon initially meeting him...clearly, the Apples got around. He even had the same country accent as Mac himself. The big farmboy somewhat seemed to Mac how AJ would look and behave, if she'd been born a stallion. Jimmy Cornshuck's personality was eerily reminiscent of AJ's, albeit he had a different context and cursed a great deal more. It was almost uncanny. Jimmy was judgmental, stubborn as a mule, and honest to a fault. Also, he was the only stallion on Mac's team who didn't have some sort of facial hair...he shaved obsessively due to his abnormally severe acne that popped up every now and then. The poor stallion had gone through his teens without so much as a pimple, but the minute he turned twenty was when he got his first case of whiteheads. Mac was growing a beard to fit in with the mostly-bearded stallions of his squad, but he understood Jimmy's condition. Facial hair would only aggravate his follicles to an intolerable degree.

"Nigga, I didn't ask yo' ole' country, cracka' ass fo' yo' fuckin' input. Crystal meth-cookin', gorilla-lookin' mothafucka'." Cornshuck laughed. The denizens of Detrot's ghettos referred to country/pioneer folk as "crackers" for the fact that the old pioneer families took along "hard tack" on their long journeys as an imperishable ration...the stuff was technically a biscuit...but it was so dry, crumbly, and crunchy that it may as well have been a cracker...the pioneers had to the boil the stuff in water to make it more palatable. Or even just edible. Mac had tried it once camping with his dad...he didn't want to try it again.

"Hey, man, it's yer funeral, if Red goes off the deep end and goes all John Mane Neighcy on ya'. I seen that motherfucker pull a goddang oak tree outta' the ground once durin' a field trainin' op! And I ain't never touched crystal once in my life, man. But you know my cousin Joe...twice removed?...from Appleloosa? Yeah. That guy's a dang speed freak like no pony else, I tell ya' what. He was cookin' the shit to sell, an' he was usin' it on himself. Man...an' he's in prison now fer distributin' an' assaultin' the constable with a parin' knife when he thought the police done caught wind of his meth lab or somethin'. Now he's stuck 'hind bars at Mareheim Medium Security Penitentiary fer twenty fuckin' years...can y'all believe that? Fuckin' Joe were dumber'n a fuckin' lemming crossbred with a sheep ridin' on top a brain-damaged pony to get to a Sapphire Shores concert. That dumbass couldn't hardly spell his own name, let alone understand the pharmacology 'hind cookin' up a pure dextromethamphetamine salt with ephedrine an' ammoniated cleaner, an' nothin' to heat it all up but a fuckin' hotplate. Still don't know how he did it..." Mac and Tyrone were snickering quietly...Jimmy had already told them both this story ten times...and it had always sounded suspicious to Mac as to how he was so well-acquainted with the cooking process. Jeremy Cornshuck always went off on pointless tangents about his family and their rednecked exploits. But they were usually pretty entertaining...and the levity helped to lighten the mood of the exhausted, sweaty stallions.

"...boy, you stupid. You already told that story like...ten fuckin' times, man. How you know how to make that shit, if you ain't cookin' it? I bet yo' ass on crank right now. The real shit...not the stuff we got issued. Talkin' a mile a minute an' shit. Now make yo' backwards as hell, inbred, tweakin' ass useful an' pass me some a' them crossbow bolts..." Jimmy complied while snickering, tossing his Unicorn squadmate a small quiver of quarrels. Mac check over his gear one last time. He was good.

He was ready. He looked over to his brothers....he knew them so well. All eleven of them were his dearest friends, all members of the active team for the 3rd Equestrian Reconnaissance and Unconventional Warfare Group. He hadn't met the other twelve members of the SF reserve team, but he'd been training with these eleven guys for over a year. He knew all their names; first, middle, and last. (Robert Steelheart, Grey Dawn, Green Forest, Tyrone Shield, Jeremy Carrot Cornshuck, Rainy Day, Ronald Blue Honorbound, Nikolas Zephyr Frostgait, Garrett Baritone, Peach Cobbler, Phillip Neigh, and Dmitriy Voskhod Shchetkalov...) He knew all their respective Cutie Marks...albeit he hated the term...(...blue heart with a sword behind it, sunrise over a bunch of grey fog, three green trees, a shield with a star on it, an ear a' fuckin' corn, raincloud over the Sun, spears crossed behind a black coat of arms, three snowflakes comin' down from a cloud, a buncha' musical notes, a peach cobbler...surprise..., a beaker an' some test tubes, an' finally...a paint palette of orange an' yellow colors an' shit...)

He knew who was married or engaged and who was single or dating. (...engaged to Colgate, single...an' a complete poon hound, married, engaged, single...an' datin' some fat bitch who works at the commissary, married, married, Zephyr's datin' some girl down south, married, single...and Phil's probably gonna' stay that way...he's kind of an asshole...an' poor, ole' Dmitriy is still single...poor feller...mares love his accent, though...he's just a little too shy.) He knew their birthdays, favorite colors, their foals' and spouses' names, their favorite foods, their hometowns...everything. He'd grown close to his team while training with them for an entire year...they had sweated and bled together...they ate together...they all lived in the same complex of off-base apartments near Cp. Ponyton. Mac needed to stop fading off in thought...it was about time. The LT rallied everypony on him once they were ready.

"Everybody good? Got everything? Alright...Team One goes with me to take down the commander. Team Two goes with Steelheart to secure the prisoners in the brig. No fuck ups on this, guys. Lives are riding on this. Alright...let's pop some smoke and blow this gate."

Grey jumped out of the trench and unbuckled a grey-banded grenade from his belt...he tossed it over the gate. Mac grabbed one of his own smoke grenades, twisting it sideways to light the internal fuse...it began hissing. He lobbed it over the side of the fort. Each of Mac's comrades did the same. The popping sounds of each grenade detonation was followed by a louder hissing...a thick, white cloud of smoke began rising in the courtyard of the fort. Mac could hear the coughing and cursing of the Griffons inside. Grey moved towards the massive front gate of the fort. Mac could see that the underside had been rigged with an utterly ridiculous amount of explosives...how in the hell had those two Griffon spies managed to rig this door and stow their gear in the trench without getting caught? He shook his head in amazement. They'd done their job. Now it was time for him and his team to do theirs. Grey picked up the white fuse that was connected to the pile of ordinance by the gate. He spouted a small gout of flame from his horn and touched it to the fuse. Then he ran like hell back into the trench. This would be a truly awesome explosion.

"Everybody get down...soon as that shit blows...shields up. Testudo formation. Speed above all else. We'll split off once we get inside. Remember...those regulars back on the hill are gonna' charge in here once this door goes... We gotta' get in there before that clusterfuck goes down." All eleven of Grey's team nodded silently.

They knew what to do. The Equestrian regulars were ready to storm the fort to offer support once the front gate was demolished. It was their signal. But the chaos from all the fighting in the white smoke wasn't somewhere anypony would want to be. They'd have to be fast. And then the door's charges detonated....Mac rose his shield over his head to protect himself from shrapnel and red-hot dirt. The noise was deafening. Splinters rained down...Mac could hear the Griffons who were shocked by the blast moaning. It was time to charge. All twelve stallions leaped onto the drawbridge in less than three seconds. They got into a formation consisting of rows of four and columns of three, each stallion put up his shield to cover the formation's front, back, and flanks. The stallions on the outside of the formation stuck their wickedly sharp pikes out from over the tops of their shields, while the two interior operators primed their crossbows and rested them over the shoulders of their compatriots. The testudo was a force to be reckoned with...the several-inch thick shields were impervious to any musket fire or quarrel...but not to explosives...which was why they needed to move quickly. It wouldn't take long before one of the Griffons tried to toss a grenade at their hooves, if they moved too slowly through the courtyard. Grey rallied them forward.

"Go, go, go!!!!!" Mac shouted one half of the motto of Malleis Irae...

"BELLO EST VITA!!!", he cried.

"MORS VICTORIA!!!", answered his brothers. It was the language of the old Equus Empire that had ruled over all the Northern Lands after the Old Horse settled them. Fitting. The Griffons couldn't hear them...their ears were likely still ringing. Not that it mattered. They were to punch through the fort and follow the western wall all towards the COC tower where the squad would split up. The operators weren't to stop and engage any enemy unless necessary...but if it was necessary...that enemy had a problem.

Mac's unit silently charged into the smokey fray. This was it...his moment. His first true charge onto the battlefield. He was one of the front shield-bearers....he was positioned on the far left front...right next to his buddy Steelheart. This siege could either be very quick and bloodless or terribly brutal and horrific, depending upon several factors beyond Mac and his team's control. They charged forward, their shields locked together tightly. Mac could barely see where he was going from all the smoke and from behind his thick shield. But he knew all they had to do was follow the west wall to the COC tower...at least the wall was visible through the thick haze of white smoke. The defending Griffons couldn't tell where they were exactly...all they knew was that they were being attacked, and that the front gate of the fort had been breached with explosives. Mac heard a loud rumble off in the distance...it was coming from the field outside the fort. The Equestrian phalanxes were charging now. They'd be inside the fort in minutes.

Mac could hear the Griffons trying to recover from the door breach, the rattling of weapons and armor echoed throughout the courtyard. The rattling was followed by the confused, angry cursing of several Griffons in their native language. Some of the them grabbed their musket carbines and pistols and began firing through the haze in the front gate's direction. A few pings actually hit home on their shields, though...of course, this had no effect on Mac's team. Mac could see a troop of about twenty Griffons running towards the breached gate, wearing heavier than average armor and wielding some wicked-looking pole arms and sabers. ("troupe de choc") They had likely been mobilized to protect the newly breached gate from the approaching Equestrian phalanxes...Mac felt sorry for the regulars...Gryphonic shock troops were tough as nails. They were hardened, elite close combat soldiers. They were trained to fight up close, as opposed to many Gryphonic soldiers who weren't.

Those shock troopers could easily bottleneck the charging ponies into a conical formation with their pole arms in front of the breached gate...it could potentially render numbers irrelevant. Those poor kids were probably getting sent into a fucking meat grinder. Most of them were less than twenty years old...Mac was only four years older, but he was a veteran. Those baby-faced colts had probably never even gotten into a simple bar fight let alone having fought like this before. It sickened Mac to think about how many of these soft-hoofed, still teenaged colts were getting sent to die...it was a necessity...he understood that....there'd be no way to maintain the volume of numbers needed for a robust army without recruiting the young and reckless. But it still made him sick...the ones that survived to watch their friends get maimed or killed would likely return home...broken...alienated. They'd be traumatized...hobbled. The nightmares and emotional problems would plague them for the rest of their lives.

These kids were soft...weak...innocent. It was no wonder. They were just soldiers. Soldiers were utilitarian-organized, barely trained kids who you gave a weapon and a simple piece of armor and told them to fight for their country and freedom. The poor, naive colts probably thought they were fighting for their families back home...to keep their loved ones free. What they didn't know was that they were just the pawns on a chess board needed to maintain Equestria's image of strength for it's foreign policy. A dark necessity. They were scared. They probably missed their mothers...missed the warmth of their family...the safety of civilized life. They didn't understand what it meant to deal in death for a trade. They'd had normal jobs back home before enlisting...some were straight out of high school. These colts didn't want to die...they weren't born to fight.

Unlike Mac and his team...they were warriors. Not soldiers. War was all they knew. They didn't fear death...they didn't fear pain. They would never surrender. They were strong. Fearless. They would charge into the burning darkness of the Void itself just to tell said Void to go fuck itself. Ponies like Mac and his team were made for this...made to fight. Not like these terrified kids...(...that Pegasus...that kid who got himself stuck through the gut with that tree branch...screamin'...) The telltale pew sound an errant musket ball's ricochet had startled him back to reality again...(fuck...that was close...hopefully them birds won't get another sho-) A sudden, powerful impact on Mac's shield had bounced the heavy sheet of steel off Mac's nose, breaking it in a nasty spurt of blood and snot. If he'd just been paying attention and hadn't had his face so close to the shield, this wouldn't have happened. (Fuckin' idiot!!) The snot and blood dribbled into his shemagh, filling his nostrils with the grotesque, coppery stench. The Griffons had just gotten off a lucky shot...they still didn't know where Mac's squad was in all the smoke.

More Griffons opened up in random directions...they were confused, firing in the general direction of the breached gate. It was pointless...the testudo formation had already moved past the gate and was now headed for the west wall. The noise was deafening. The confused birds might actually kill more of their own kind with friendly fire than Mac's team. The Griffons had no idea where Mac's team was. Agt. Briller Ciel had been right...they had caught the Griffons completely by surprise. But so, too, had Mac himself by a single Griffon who came running blindly towards the testudo...Mac had run right into one of the soldiers who'd survived the gate's explosion and knocked him to the ground. The soldier cursed and dropped his falchion and pistol with a loud clattering sound that rang off the cobbled stones of the fort. He was confused...he didn't know what he had just ran into...and Mac didn't give him a chance to find out.

"Engaging tango! Front left!!", he cried out to the rest of his team.

He stepped on top of the Griffon's left wing with his left boot, pinning him to the ground...the soldier howled in agony. Mac brought the heavy edge of his shield down on top of the feathered soldier's chest, cracking his sternum and ribs, prompting a low, gutteral moan...the soldier's bones had shattered audibly...he was dead. Mac had heard the crunching sound even over the musket volleys being fired randomly about the courtyard. Mac had taken out his first enemy in close combat as an SF operator...and it was his first, true time killing a soldier of the Gryphonic Empire.

"Tango down!! Front left clear!!", he cried.

"Formation clear!!", responded Mac's team in unison, having checked their individual fields of fire/observation for enemies. Mac got back into formation. The entire ordeal had lasted less than seven seconds. They continued further on, sidling up along the side of the western wall.

Mac and his team passed over the broken, bloodied bodies of several dead Griffons...the blast had disemboweled some of them...others had been torn completely in half, their shiny metal breastplates twisted up like aluminum foil. A thick layer of blood, entrails, and feathers covered the stone ground of the courtyard...Mac took care not to slip...the heat was unbearable inside the testudo formation. He was sweating bullets from the thick, canvas blouse and trousers as was...the early morning sun had risen a bit higher...Mac couldn't see it, but he could see from the morning rays of light that it was going to be a hot day. But the heat wasn't his primary concern...they needed to hurry. Thankfully, they once again knew exactly where to go. They only needed to stay close to the wall...trying to march the testudo into the middle of the courtyard would be suicide, thus they were skirting the majority of the Gryphonic force. The western wall led to the commander's tower, and the eastern wall led to armory and brig. Steelheart's team would break off from Grey's once they had reached the stairs to the commander's tower, and they would continue skirting the walls until they reached the brig to secure the captured Equestrian soldiers. The twelve stallions were getting closer to their destination. Mac could see the shape of the winding, stone stairs from over the top of his shield.

"Formation! Loosen up!", cried Grey.

The operators complied by spreading their shields out, loosening the rigidity of the testudo formation. Good. A loose testudo was faster...they had more room to stretch their legs...and there was a fucking breeze. Also, it meant that the testudo had bypassed most of the danger...they didn't need to pack their shields so tightly to ward off incoming missiles. Mac looked back up at the staircase...there was a new shape standing at the top of it...he could see a shining glimmer coming off something the figure was holding...the sun was glinting off of a scope. A crossbow's scope... (Sniper!) But Steelheart had called the sniper out before Mac could.

"Tango sniper!! Eyes up! On top a' the stairs!!", he cried out. Grey responded accordingly.

"Formation!! Tighten up!!", screamed the lieutenant.

All twelve stallions brought their shields together, tightly packing them to lessen the formation's vulnerability. Mac could see the sniper in question now...the Gryphonic marksman had seen the rectangular shape of testudo's olive drab shield-walls looking down from his elevated vantage point above all the smoke. Mac wasn't shocked that the Griffon could see so well...they had eagle eyes after all. The sniper was aiming a grey and black crossbow at them...crossbow's were far more accurate at this range than muskets...but there was no reason the sniper would even consider wasting a bolt on the impervious shield formation...unless...he had a frag bolt to fire!! (Oh, fuck...) Like the one Mac had used on the western battlement's mortar team. They had to take this fucker out and fast. The concussive blast from a single fragmentary quarrel could easily kill or cripple several of Mac's team...shields or not. But Mac wasn't worried...Grey was a superb tactician, and his team had two magnificent marksmen of their own.

"Shield!! Take him out!! Forest!! Scope in, in case he misses!! Formation!! Move up to the base of the stairs!! Get Shield a better bead on that motherfucker!!", commanded the lieutenant.

Mac had to admit...Grey was an excellent small unit commander. The re-tightened testudo formation quickly shuffled towards the stairs as ordered...hopefully, Shield or Forest would be able to take out the sniper before he got a shot off. The formation had moved past much of the smokescreen that obscured much of the fort's courtyard...the form of the sniper was much easier to see. The winged soldier had removed his fancy, plumed helmet to get a better shot...he hadn't actually loaded the bolt in his crossbow yet...he'd just been surveying the chaos and smoke before. That was good news...well...not for him.

"Roger!! Engaging!!", replied the Detrot half-breed and the green-maned, brown-coated stallion in unison. Even though the team was trying to keep a low profile, it was necessary to yell over all the din and racket of the gunfire to be heard.

Mac turned his head a bit to look back at Tyrone aiming his crossbow...it was a good thing the gangly Unicorn already had a bolt read to fire. Tyrone was resting the handguard of his weapon on top Steelheart's left shoulder, sticking the front portion of the crossbow's barrel, riser, and limbs out through the small slit in between the shield wall. Mac turned his head back towards the sniper...he was still aiming at them. Mac heard the familiar shunk of Ty's crossbow. He watched as the heavy quarrel quickly traveled towards the now clear form of the Gryphonic sniper...it hit the creature directly in his right carotid artery. A sickening wave of ruby red blood splattered all over the stairs in front of the sniper...the opened artery was spraying out the Griffon's blood like a water hose. He slumped down on the winding, stone staircase, leaving a pool of his dark red blood to drip down the stairs and onto the courtyard below. The sniper was dead.

"Tango down!! Way the fuck down!! Stairs are clear!!", shouted the half-breed Unicorn. Grey acknowledged.

"Copy that. Good shot. Team Two...split off and secure the brig. Don't engage tangos unless it's necessary."

"Roger that, LT. Good luck to ya', mate.", replied Steelheart.

"You, too, man. Eyes open out there, feel me?"

The testudo formation broke in half, forming two smaller formations of six stallions each with three rows of two. Team Two broke away and re-entered the smoke cloud, sidling the west wall by the side of the stairs on their way to the east end of the fort where the brig was. 1st Lt. Dawn's team of six was comprised of Mac, Shield, Cornshuck, Neigh, and Day. The rest went with Steelheart. Shield hadn't been carrying one of the massive shields like his squadmates...he'd have to rely on his adjacent buddies for cover. All they needed to do now was get up the stairs and take out Lt. Col. de Guerre in the COC tower. They quickly sprinted up the western stairs to the command and control tower. Mac prayed that the Griffons below wouldn't notice...but they'd made it to the tower without a hitch, running into the cool darkness of the stairwell. Good thing, too. The Equestrian regulars had reached the fort and were trying to muscle their way past the Gryphonic shock troops and musketeers guarding the front gate. The ensuing battle was deafening. Mac could see several of the flying forms of the Pegasi of the Imperial Air Corp closing in on the fort, now that the guns had fallen silent. A few Griffons grabbed their sabers and took to the air to do battle with them...it was a good thing they hadn't seen Mac's team.

"Eyes up. Mac'n me'll take the lead with the shields. Rainy an' Shield take the flanks. Jimmy an' Phil take up the rear.", whispered Grey. Shield decided it was time for an off-color joke.

"Hehehe...yeah, those two do take it up the rear..." Jimmy and Phil shook their heads at Tyrone's poor timing. Sgt. Rainy Day, a big, ice-blue coated stallion with cold, grey eyes cut him off.

"Not now, Ty. Need to be quiet going up these stairs." Ty nodded silently and pounded his chest in agreement with his free hoof. Rainy was a bit like Mac, if Mac were a little too serious. Rainy rarely talked, albeit he was a pretty nice guy. But when he did talk...everypony listened.

"Alright...let's get up these stairs...that asshole's up here somewhere...my guess is the comm room. I don't think those birds down in the courtyard noticed us coming up here. Let's keep quiet and see if we can get the drop on 'em.", whispered Grey in a barely audible tone.

The six stallions quickly and quietly made their way up the winding staircase...the air in here was much cooler than outside. A great relief to Mac, a stallion with a thicker than average coat. They rounded the bends of the tower stairs, making as little noise as possible. They had gotten halfway up, when they heard the sound of talons clicking on the stone floor...a Gryphonic soldier was making his way down the stairs on all fours...all six stallions silently huddled up against the walls of the dark stairwell, making sure they were completely hidden in the shadows. Mac could hear the clicking talons getting closer...the padded paws of the Griffon's rear legs made little noise. The lieutenant turned toward Mac and made a forward chopping motion with his hoof, holding his pike in the crook of his foreleg. Mac nodded in affirmation and propped his pike and shield against the wall. He unsheathed his father's throwing hatchet from it's leather holder. Mac could hear the soft click of Shield's crossbow...he had loaded another bolt just in case. Good.

The Griffon in consideration rounded the bend of the stairs on his way down, his shiny breastplate and helmet nearly lighting up the darkness with their reflective properties...this guy was fairly tense and on edge from all the fighting. He had a flintlock pistol in it's holster and a long rapier in it's scabbard. Mac waited until the guard had made his way just past him...then he silently popped out of the shadows behind him and sank the hatchet head deep into the Griffon's helmet. The razor sharp hatchet had gone right through the bird's helmet and skull like a hot wire through butter. The hideous, squelching sound of the bird's gray matter getting cleaved in half made even Mac himself uneasy...he grabbed the guard's corpse and began dragging it towards the shadows. Mac could tell this guy was one of the Lt. Col.'s personal guards. He was probably told to go scout the staircase or something to make sure the Equestrians in the courtyard hadn't made their way this far up yet. At least...that was what he'd likely been trying to do. Who was to truly say? Maybe the guy had been on his way to get a visual on the status of the melee in the courtyard....maybe he just needed to pee? But a sudden voice calling down the stairs stopped Mac in his tracks...

"Louis ... Louis? Où êtes-vous? Êtes-vous d'accord?" The slain bird hadn't been alone.

Mac couldn't hear the clicks of talons...this guy was walking on his hind paws with a weapon at the ready. Mac didn't even have time to hide before the sight of a rather burly Griffon came into his view. He was a big guy...dark brown feathers...he wasn't wearing a breastplate. Good. Mac didn't need Grey to give him the order to do what needed to be done. He tossed the corpse of the burly guard's slain comrade down the stairs and quickly threw the hatchet into the big Griffon's chest. The burly creature shrieked in agony...and was silenced by a crossbow bolt to his left eye (Good shot, Ty.). Blood splattered on the stairs behind the big Griffon. Tyrone silently reloaded his crossbow. Mac and Grey moved forward to hide the bodies while the other three stallions kept watch.

They needed to keep their covert advantage. The element of surprise would be invaluable. They continued their way up the stairs, and reached the top floor. It was a square, dark structure with a long, narrow hallway linking five doors to five different rooms...and there was a tall ladder in the near corner that led to the battlements and flagpole above. Mac knew from the multiple mission briefings over schematics that these types of COC towers held five rooms to be used as the commander saw fit. Mac guessed these particular rooms were the commander's re-appropriated bedchamber, war room, comm room, what looked to be a small broom closet or a storage closet, and the guest bedchamber that was usually used by the fort's second-in-command. The dark hallway was completely silent, except for the sound of a husky, deep voice bellowing strings of obscenities from behind one of the doors.

"Shhh....except for who I suspect is the Big Cheese himself cursing up a storm, it looks mostly quiet. But we need to clear these rooms...", whispered Grey.

The team of six stallions silently entered and cleared three of the rooms. After finding nothing in each room but two bedrooms and a small room with a large table and chairs, they stacked up by the wall near the narrow broom closet door. Mac was on point with his shield...he held his pike in the crook of his foreleg and tried to turn the knob...it was locked. He could hear the faint tinkle of water inside...it was likely one of those deep sinks that junior enlisted soldiers used to prepare buckets of mop water. Nothing of interest in there.

"Locked...I think it's just a cleanin' closet, boss..." Grey nodded.

He motioned for them to stack up against what they all had figured out to be the communications room. The boisterous, deep voice of a Griffon was louder than ever outside the door...a milder voice was speaking plaintively to the deeper voice. Grey motioned for Mac to listen in...he complied and quietly pressed the side of his hood the edge of the door...it was a good thing he'd learned to speak and read Gryphonique fluently as a part of his training. Mac motioned that he could hear two tangos inside. Grey nodded.

"Sir, I have to respectfully reject your command. I will not abandon my post. I won't leave you here to die alone."

"Merde!! Lieutenant, you are a stubborn goddamn bird! I am ordering you to surrender!! You have a pregnant wife, for God's sakes!!"

"No, sir! I've been your comm officer for four years now. I won't let you go down in a blaze of glory like this while I get off without a scratch."

"Je m’en fou, Lieutenant!! I'm losing my fucking temper now!! This is my fight!! Mine!!"

"No, it isn't, sir!! It's mine, too! I've served with you for years!! Your fight is my fight!!" The commander of the Griffons of Ft. Redrock changed tones...he sighed in resignation...Mac hoped that the young comm officer could talk his commander into surrendering. Mac waved to Grey that he needed to listen a bit longer. Maybe he'd learn something valuable. Grey nodded. Mac put his hood back to the door.

"Édouard...this is foolish. I'm touched by your loyalty, but this is your only chance for survival. I can't go back to face my commanders in shame. I can't capitulate to these fucking Equestrian dogs. I'm too old now...too bitter. Too full of hate. I've carried it for years now, since I last fought them. I just...I can't. They took my sister from me...she was my only family. I have nothing left but my honor. My time is over. But you can save yourself, Édouard. You're young. You have your beautiful wife. You can still have a wonderful life."

"Monsieur de Guerre...how could you ask me to abandon you?! You aren't the only Griffon who wants to live and die honorably!! How could you ask me to live with the guilt, sir? I'd regret it for the rest of my days. I'd be an empty shell of my former self. A terrible husband and father... My wife would be better off without me, if that were the case."

"That's crazy talk, Édouard!"

"Is it, sir? Then why are you staying to fight?"

"Uhh...I just...just have to. I just do."

"Exactly. The same goes for me, sir."

"*sigh*.....very well, Lieutenant... If you refuse to surrender your post, you may stay."

"Thank you, sir. It's been an honor serving with you."

"And with you also, my friend. But...I can't believe...AAaauUuuggggHHH!!! PuTAin!!!" Mac jolted a bit from the commander's startling cry.

"Sir?"

"I can't believe those fucking cowards back at Pisa!! Why would they give the order to take this worthless, little fort and not send us reinforcements?! What was the point of all this fucking bloodshed, if we couldn't even hang on to...the very...fucking...fort...they sent us to capture!!! Unbelievable!!!"

"They might be trying to contact us right now, sir, for all we know, but these shitty, Equestrian radios are down. The power cables to the radio equipment in this room were cut by shrapnel after the western mortar team got shelled by those snipers. We've had no way to charge the field radios we brought with us. But...wait....no...that wouldn't make a difference...forget it. The radios the Equestrian's left us are just short range...and they run off the same power cables, so we can't even use them, sir." Mac grinned under his bloody shemagh. He and Grey had unintentionally caused the Griffons a little bit of bonus grief.

"I don't know, Lieutenant....it still doesn't make any sense. Merde! And why did headquarters want us to ship those cut-rate, Equestrian cannons and all that ammunition in the armory down the river out to the west? We don't even have any forces stationed that far west! We wasted valuable time building those fucking boats, when we could've use the same time and lumber to fortify our position." Mac raised an eyebrow...he'd known from what Agt. Ciel had told him that the order to attack the fort had either been a miscommunication or the stupid decision made by one of Monsieur de Guerre's superiors. But why would they want the commander to sail those cannons out to the middle of nowhere? Grey was leaning closer to the door to listen in himself.

"Maybe the Ministry of Intelligence had some spies out there that needed all that artillery for something, sir." Special forces? Or spies?

"Maybe...fuck if I know, Édouard...C’est des conneries!! All I know is that we've lost this fort...our commanders have abandoned us...we can't even order our troops to stand down, because this worthless intercom isn't working! What was the point of all this? Don't misunderstand me, Édouard: I hate the Equestrians with a passion. I can never forgive them for taking my sister from me. But all this death...it wasn't worth it. None of it was worth anything. Our soldiers...even their soldiers...dying for nothing." Mac felt a twinge of sympathy for the commander. He was an honorable person...he hadn't wanted any of this to start with. But who had caused all this? Where had the cannons gone? And why? Grey gave Mac a puzzled look...he was wondering about the same things.

"We...we can still go down fighting, sir."

"Yes. We can. The Equestrians will be at our door any minute now...I'll admit...I'm impressed by their ingenuity. I hadn't thought they were capable of such brilliant tactics after having idiotically sent waves of soldiers to get massacred by our mortars. They must've had a sapper team sneak up to the door without any of our sentries noticing...impressive, though it pains me to admit it. And they synced up their attack on our mortar teams...that was a shock. These ponies may be stupid most of the time, but sometimes...sometimes they actually use their brains for a change." Mac heard the clattering of a sword and several pistols upon one of the desks inside the comm room.

"Yes, sir...is that a tactical appreciation you've got for them? It almost sounded like you admired them, sir. Hehehe...I'll take a pistol, sir." The commander snorted at his comm officer's suggestion.

"Ha! It's a simple respect for strategy. Nothing else. Here's a flintlock for you... Careful. It's loaded....are you certain you want to do this, Édouard? There's no coming back from this...you can still surrender. The Equestrians are pompous fools, but they're not butchers. They'll send you home to your family eventually."

"Yes, sir. I'm certain. Nothing will change my mind. Is the Major still in the water closet?" Mac guessed that this major was the Lt. Col.'s second-in-command.

"Hehehe...yes. He said he didn't want to shit his pants when he died....hehehe... He'll be needing a pistol, too. I couldn't persuade him to stand down either...hehehe...stubborn, brave old fool. I'm proud to have served with the both of you. I just hope the Major remembers to flush and close the door when he's done...if the fighting pours out into the hallway, the last thing I want to smell before dying is shit...hehehe..." Mac felt a cold chill...that "broom closet" that was locked was actually a small bathroom...there was a Griffon inside it...had he heard their approach?

Apparently, he had, as the door of the bathroom burst open, procuring the form of the officer in question. He ran straight at the nearest Equestrian commando, Neigh, screaming curses at the top of his lungs with a long dagger in his right claw. Mac's team didn't even have time to react. But thankfully, Phil had been on top of his game...he slammed his shield into the major's body and trapped him up against the wall of the hallway. Phil then jammed the spearhead of his pike into the Griffon's throat, summoning a gout of blood to paint the wall and the front of the officer's breastplate. Phil yanked the pike out of him. The major gurgled, coughing to death on his own blood and phlegm...he slumped to the ground dead, his dagger clattered to the floor.

"Tango down...*pant*...fuck....*pant*...", sputtered Sgt. Neigh.

"You alright, ninja?", asked Grey. Phil had a pitch black mane and coat...at night it was hard to see him. Thus, "ninja" inevitably stuck as his nickname.

"I'm good, boss." The big, black stallion was a bit shaken and out of breath but otherwise fine. Unfortunately, Mac's team had lost the element of surprise.

"Oh, putain de merde ! C'est quoi ce bordel qui se passe là-bas?!!!" He could hear the Lt. Col. screaming inside the comm room. He knew they were out there in the hallway now.

"J'ai entendu le Major crier!! Les poneys sont ici!!"

"Well...we tried it the quiet way. Let's do it the loud way, I guess..." Two pistol shots went through the wooden door to the comm room and ricocheted off the stone wall of the hallway. Grey and Mac pulled back from the door. Monsieur de Guerre and his comm officer were going down fighting.

"ENTREZ ET METTEZ-NOUS!! AAAAaaAuuUUUGGhhhhHH!! ORDURES!! VA TE FAIRE FOUTRE!!!" Mac laughed despite the danger of the situation. The commanders outburst had been an almost comically exaggerated display, but Mac could tell the difference. This Griffon really....REALLY didn't like Equestrians.

"This guy's got some anger issues!", he yelled. But then again, so did he. He and Lt. Col. de Guerre had that in common....maybe the two of them could go to the same therapy classes together? (Oh! Wouldn't that be nice? Makin' friends left an' right today, man.)

"Ya' don't say?!! Never would've guessed!!", chimed Grey.

Another two shots whizzed through the door, scattering splinters about the hallway...how many loaded pistols did they have in there?! They were going to have breach the door and enter...luckily they had the right tools for the job. The six stallions stacked up by the side of door. Room clearing was dangerous...more so even than dodging mortar shells. If Mac slipped up even a tiny bit, his reward might be a musket ball in the brain. He turned towards his lieutenant...Grey had unbuckled a round, white-banded grenade from his belt and was holding it at the ready for Mac and his team to see. (Flashbang...) They were going to flash and clear the room. The flashbang was packed with a ground mixture of enchanted crystals and a detonating agent...when it went off, the ground crystals set off a powerful blast of light, noise, and heat. It was pretty agonizing to be on the receiving end, but it was one of the few non-lethal methods they had for neutralizing threats. Maybe they could still take the commander alive...he'd be an invaluable source of intel after all that had transpired.

"Mac on point! Breach and clear on my mark...NOW!! Go, go, go!!" Grey kicked the heel of Mac's right boot as the signal to go. Mac squared his heavy shield up with the door and smashed it open...splinters flew in all directions as the door was knocked clean off it's hinges. A pistol shot rang out, ricocheting off Mac's shield...Grey grunted...he'd been grazed by the splintered fragments of the musket ball. His blood was dripping down the back of Mac's boot. But Grey was tough...he ignored the wound, twisted the grenade to activate the internal fuse, and lobbed it into the room. Both stallions jumped back from the doorway.

"Grenade! Descendre!!" Mac heard a shuffling and crashing of chairs and tables inside the room, as the occupants tried to take cover from the concussive blast...this was going to be LOUD.

And it was. The very air popped around Mac's team, making their ears ring...Mac was glad he hadn't been in that room when the flashbang went off...the ringing in his ears right now was bad enough. But they had a job to do...the six stallions quickly strode into the room with Mac and Grey on point, covering the other four commandos with their shields. Tyrone had his crossbow at the ready. They covered each side of the room, watching their corners...they could see the moaning, incapacitated form of the commander's comm officer writhing on the floor in pain...he'd dropped his flintlock pistol. He was down for the count...they could just restrain him. The small, tawny-feathered Griffon wouldn't be able see or hear for about twelve hours, but at least he'd live. But where was Lt. Col. Talon de Guerre?

"GaaAAAaAaaAHHHHhHH!!!! NIQUE TA MERE!!!!" (Oh. There he is. Well, fuck my ass, that's one giant, pissed off bird!!")

The form of an enraged Lt. Col. de Guerre popped up from behind the cover of his desk...Mac could see blood streaming from under the sides of his helmet. The big, snow-white Griffon was almost Mac's size. The overgrown bird was wearing a simple, leather jerkin with a pair of black, cotton trousers and a big pair of black jackboots. He hadn't had time to put on his breastplate yet. Apparently, he had ducked down behind the desk to avoid most of the blinding effect of the flashbang...but he'd still received the full brunt of the ear-splitting blast of sound...which had ruptured his feather-obscured, avian eardrums. This was likely rather excruciating to any sentient creature who wasn't jacked up on heroin or tranquilizers. And the commander was still fighting...that agent had been right. This guy was tough.

"Lâches!!! Tue-moi d'abord!!!!" Well, they were trying. And Mac didn't fancy himself a coward...it didn't seem a fair thing to say to somepony who had the balls to do this sort of job.

The massive, pure white Griffon opened fire on Mac's team with a pistol in each claw. The shots pinged off Grey and Mac's shields. The Lt. Col. grabbed another loaded flintlock off his desk and aimed it straight at the LT. But a steel bolt from Tyrone's crossbow hit the big, winged creature square in the chest, forcing him to drop the pistol. Mac and Grey charged forward with their shields and pikes...but the commander had recovered. He was still fighting with a crossbow bolt in his chest. He unsheathed his falchion and charged the two of them, screaming furiously in Gryphonique with an acidic edge of pure hate in his voice.

"C'est pour ma sœur!!!" Well, Mac hadn't even known his sister...it was hardly fair to blame him and his squad for whatever had happened to her.

"TA MERE SUCE DES BITES EN ENFER!!!!!" Now that wasn't very nice. And entirely unwarranted. Mac's mother may have been deceased, but he was fairly dubious as to the validity of Monsieur de Guerre's assessment of his mother's fellatio-related activities in the bowels of Tartarus.

Mac had half a mind to demand an apology. But he settled instead for the point of Grey's pike in the big Griffon's chest. The massive bird was still fighting, coughing and cursing at the commandos. Jimmy and Phil moved in and skewered him as well...the great creature was dripping blood and thrashing about with his falchion... Mac moved in and thrust his pike into Talon de Guerre's throat with all his might. The screaming and cursing stopped...Mac watched as the life faded from his furious, yellow eyes. Mac pulled the pike out...the great, white Griffon was dead. The fearless, hate-filled creature had fought viciously to the end...Mac couldn't help but admire him. Grey went and checked the body.

"He's down. Shield...you go watch the hallway. Rainy...secure the prisoner. Phil and Jim...search this room for intel. Mac...you're with me. Let's go change this fort's flag, man." Mac grinned and nodded.

The pair went back out into the hallway, slung their weapons and shields, and climbed up the ladder, opening the ceiling's hatch that led to the square tower's battlements. The sun was higher in the sky now...the golden rays shone down on Mac's shemagh-concealed face. He could tell it was going to be a hot day. Grey set his gear down against the parapets and loaded a phosphorous bolt into his crossbow...after changing the tower's flag, they would shoot off the bolt to signal the Air Corps for support. Grey set his crossbow back down. He procured a folded Equestrian flag from his cargo pocket and strode towards the flag pole. Raising the flag would signal defeat for the Griffons and prompt them to surrender. They would all know their commander had been slain and the battle was lost.

"Ha! This is it, man! We just need to change flags real quick, shoot that flare off, and this'll be all over. This wasn't as much of a bloodbath, as I thought it'd be. We didn't even run into any resistance hardly after we blew the gate...but I guess that's just because the blast fucked 'em all up." Mac merely nodded. He kept his vigil, holding his pike and shield at the ready. Grey continued to gloat while setting down his own pike and shield to lower the Griffons' flag.

"This was a pretty smooth op overall. Ain't usually like this. I guess you got off easy your first time, big guy. I sure didn't...hehehe...man...if it weren't for that musket ball bouncing off your shield and shit...hehehe...it wouldn't have fragmented like it did. That would've been a lot worse. Coulda' lost the entire leg. Of course, I'm the only one who got any sort of scratch on him. Can't say I'm surprised. I think it's my bad karma, Loco." Mac didn't respond.

Something was off...Mac was in a strange daze. He was detached. Cold. This battle hadn't been like the skirmishes on the northern border with the Dogs. It had been impersonal. Dispassionate. It had been utilitarian and frigid. Every action he and his team had taken had been executed with surgical precision...it was highly efficient, but it left something to be desired. Even though Mac pitied the regulars doing the fighting and the dying in the meat grinder of the courtyard...he envied them, too. They were in the fray. They were at the heart of it all. That was where Mac was supposed to be. They had traded places with him. He was the one made for this. Not those poor kids. They didn't want to be here anyway. Mac knew that the regulars didn't have anywhere near enough training to pull off what he and his team had just done, but it all seemed...so...backwards. But a sudden flurry of movement to his left interrupted his thoughts. They had company.

"Boss! Eight tangos comin' up left side!!" Mac could see these were some of the shock troopers his team had passed in the courtyard.

They'd likely regrouped here to form another line of defense. They probably didn't know their commander was dead yet. Grey dropped the flagpole's rope and frantically reached for his shield and pike...but a single shot rang out...the lieutenant screamed and fell to the stone floor of the battlements. Mac rushed over to him, putting up his shield to cover him. He kept his eyes on the approaching Griffons...they were wearing heavy breastplates, closed-visor helmets, greaves, and jackboots. All eight of them were hovering above the battlements just out of pike range. Two of them were carrying pistols...Mac could see the smoke rising from the pistol that had shot his friend. There was no way the other four members of his team could hear what was going on up here over all the racket in the courtyard to come help.

"Ow!! Fuck!! Are you serious?!! You gotta' be kiddin' me!! *pant* Same fucking leg!! *pant* I just got shot in almost the same goddamn spot!! But...*pant*... Don't worry about me!! *pant* It ain't lethal!! I'm fine!! Just cover me, and I'll light 'em up...*pant*" Grey had been injured, but he could still use his magic.

The stubborn lieutenant rose to his hooves, leaning one foreleg on Mac's left shoulder for support. His grey horn that stuck out from the hole cut into his hood began shimmering with it's signature blue aura...the second musketeer fired off a shot. The inaccurate spin of the musket ball sent it into the side of a nearby parapet. The Griffons were out of ammo. But they still had their wings and some lethal looking blades. One swooped down at Mac and took a quick swipe at his shield with a curved saber. Mac deflected the blow and stabbed at the creature. He missed. Two more shock troopers attempted another dive-bomb on the two stallions. But Grey had been ready for them...a massive, white-hot gout of flame engulfed the two birds, immolating them in seconds...their metal armor and pole axes clanged to the ground and began melting with an orange glow. The two Griffons had been burned to ash before they could even scream...their nerve endings immolated before sending signals of pain to their brains. They hadn't felt a thing. The surviving six cursed at Mac and Grey. Grey returned the favor.

"HA!!! Yeah!!! Fried fuckin' chicken!!! How you like it, cocksuckers!!!? *pant* I got enough for all of ya'!! *pant* Come on down from there!! Got something else for ya'!!!!!!" Grey's taunts had no effect on the enemy soldiers. The Griffons ignored him and had realized the folly of their previous attack plan.

Now they were scattering, trying to flank Mac's shield from the sides. Mac and Grey kept turning to stay covered. But one Griffon got a lucky swipe at Mac...the razor-sharp edge of his blade had sliced Mac across his left shoulder. He hadn't felt the blow at all due to the adrenaline and endorphins pumping throughout his body, but he could feel the warm blood dripping down his blouse over his foreleg. But the Griffon had taken too long to dart out of range, as Grey shot him through the chest with a lightning bolt...the thunderclap had been deafening...the smell of ozone and burnt feathers filled the air. Grey was getting tired. He couldn't keep this up for much longer. Powerful bolts of magic drained a Unicorn's strength rapidly...overexertion could even lead to brain damage or a lethal aneurysm.

"FUCK YOU!!!! *pant* *pant* Who's next?!!!" Mac deflected another Griffon's sword blow and fended the soldier off with his pike. The Gryphonic shock troopers were now trying to draw Grey's fire to tire him out. The big Unicorn fired off several more bolts of lightning at the remaining Griffons to no effect. His aim was gradually worsening with exhaustion.

"Boss!! Take it easy!!! They're drawin' yer fire!!" Mac turned his head to glance at Grey...the LT had popped a blood vessel in his right eye. Mac could see a dark, red stain forming on Grey's shemagh...he had a nosebleed. That wasn't a good sign.

"*pant* I know! *pant* I got a plan!! *pant*...we wait 'til they dive at us again...*pant*....I'll hit 'em with a static force bomb...*pant*"

"Man, yer fuckin' head's gonna' pop in a minute!! Don't risk it!!"

There had to be another way to take these guys out that didn't involve killing his friend. Mac didn't have his crossbow loaded to engage the flying shock troopers, but he had his throwing knives. He planted the shield on the battlement floor, grabbing one of his blades to throw. He hurled one at a swooping Griffon. It had glanced off the bird's heavy armor...Pegasi couldn't wear armor that heavy and maintain this sort of speed. Hollow bones or not. These guys were tough. There wasn't any other option, but for Grey to blast the Griffons out of the air.

"Fuck that...*pant*...let's ground 'em...*pant*...only option..."

Mac knew he was right. He felt a sort of...calmness now. Clinical. Disciplined. He'd wanted to charge into the battle in the courtyard with reckless abandon minutes earlier...he couldn't do that now. Grey's life depended on his level-headedness. After the LT discharged this massive burst of magic, he'd likely pass out....if he survived, that is. Mac would have to defend him. But the Griffons would be grounded, too. Mac would be able to fight them on his terms. That was bad news...for them.

"Alright!!! I'm coverin' ya'!! On yer mark, boss!!" Mac raised his shield to cover his buddy from the Gryphonic assault.

"Here goes!!"

Mac felt the air pop around him...his ears, too. He could feel the fur of his coat stand on end...the air around Grey's horn was crackling with static electricity. This would be a debilitating spell. Powerful. It might even shock Mac and Grey themselves...but it would definitely do more damage to the steel-clad Griffons hovering over them. The sudden smell of ozone and the sound of crackling electricity meant Grey's spell was fully charged. This was it.

"Ready!! Toss down your shield and pike on my mark!!" Mac nodded silently. The Griffons were cautiously watching the pair of stallions from the air. They'd become wary of Grey's spells. They'd been wearing him down to near exhaustion, and now this? Mac knew there was only one way to draw them down close enough to get in range of the spell....also, it wasn't smart to be holding onto something conductive of electricity when that spell went off.

"NOW!! Drop 'em!!" Mac tossed down his shield and long pike with a heavy clang and clatter. As wary as the Griffons were, they couldn't pass this opportunity to attack. All remaining five shock troopers swooped down to press their assault on the seemingly defenseless stallions...bad choice. Grey fired his spell.

Mac couldn't remember the blast of the spell. All he recalled was an awful, twitching pain in his muscles and a splitting headache. He'd been knocked nearly insensate to the floor by the static explosion. But so too had the Griffons. All five of the shock troopers had been shot out of the air. They were writhing on the stone floor of the battlements in agony. Their wings had been burned...their feathers were charred. Mac rose to his hooves and quickly grabbed his pike...he turned to look down at his comrade. Grey was clutching his head in pain...he was cursing up a storm. Good. He was alright. Mac was surprised the LT was still conscious after discharging a spell that powerful. He was tough. So was Mac, albeit he'd received the least of all the damage from the spell. The Griffons began recovering from the blast, grabbing their weapons and adopting a wedged combat formation at the behest of their squad leader. Even though the shock troopers didn't wear those plumed helmets like the rest of the Griffons, Mac could tell which one was the squad leader by his barking orders and presence alone. Now Mac had to contend with five well-armed, pissed off soldiers. The formation of Griffons lackadaisically charged towards the two stallions. They were still rattled from the LT's spell. Mac raised his pike to threaten them and keep them away from Grey.

"Don't fuck with me now, man! I am Ahab." He wasn't sure what he was saying exactly.

It was almost funny...the mirth got to him...he began snickering. The entire situation...it was one big, tragic comedy, and he was the stand-up comic in front of an angry audience. And they didn't find his jokes at all funny. The five birds cautiously kept out of range of his spear and began circling him. Mac knew he wasn't going to be able to fend them off with the pike...he dropped it and quickly drew his short sword and hatchet, holding them in each hoof while cackling like a mad pony. Why was it so funny? What was it? And then Mac blacked out. He didn't remember what happened afterwards. He merely came to his senses to find three of the birds lying dead at his hooves. They'd been hacked apart...their armor twisted like thin sheets of aluminum foil. Mac had brutalized them...the two remaining Griffons were horrified. He could see their horror even though their eyes were concealed by their heavy, steel helmets. Mac continued his mad snickering....what was wrong with him? A sudden noise from behind him interrupted his mirth. The trap door to the tower popped open, procuring the familiar form of Tyrone Shield. It didn't take long for Ty to assess the situation. He quickly jumped to his hooves and unholstered his crossbow, aiming it at the two remaining Griffons and ordering them to surrender.

"Arrêt!!! Lâchez vos armes!!! Put 'em the fuck down!!!" The Griffons were having none of it. But Mac was relieved to see his friend.

"Damn, man...'bout time you showed up." Ty shook his head.

"Heard that spell go off from downstairs, Loco. Just two a' these mothafuckas left, huh? Grey aight?"

"He's fine. These guys ain't gonna' be, though..........now...now we're gonna' kill the sun." Mac stopped laughing and walked forward, grabbing Grey's loaded crossbow that he'd set against the battlements earlier...Ty turned to look at him in confusion.

"Nigga...the fuck you doin'?!" Grey had come to his senses and had assessed the situation.

"Ow....man...Red? Hey, man, get back here! We gotta' restrain these two!!" Mac ignored his LT and readied his crossbow.

One of the Griffons charged at Ty with his pole ax while the half-breed Unicorn's attention was directed elsewhere. Mac fired the crossbow...the phosphorous bolt plunged into the bird's armor and began hissing. His armor had stopped the full impact of the bolt...but it couldn't stop what was coming. (...dead sun...) The trooper was confused...he turned to his comrade. The other bird stared in horror. He knew what the hissing meant. Mac laughed again. (...why?...what's wrong with me?...oh, God...) The phosphorous bolt lit up with a blindingly hot, white light. The bird began screaming. He was being cooked inside his own armor. Mac continued his cackling. Ty, Grey, and the unscathed Griffon watched in absolute horror as the trooper lit up like a Hearth's Warming Eve tree. His remaining feathers caught alight...his shining, steel breastplate began glowing with an orange red haze. The bird's screaming could be heard even over the deafening racket of the battle in the courtyard below.

"AiDeZ-MOi! AAAaaaAAuuUUuGggHHH!!!!!! MAMA!!! MAMA, AiDeZ-MOi!!!!" He was calling for his mother. Like the young Pegasus colt that had been impaled on the tree...it didn't matter. His mother couldn't save him. Mac's mother couldn't save him either...no pony could save him.

The burning trooper's comrade reached over to try and help him, but the chemical heat was too great. He pulled back his claws. He could only watch helplessly as his friend burned alive...slowly. A caustic, white smoke filled the air...the unaffected trooper covered the grill of his helmet. The three stallions covered their eyes with their hooves; their shemaghs would filter out the toxic smoke. The Griffon continued to burn. His agonized shrieks grew high-pitched...alien. The bolt's wicked, chemical fire was burning through his diaphragm and vocal cords, contorting his voice to an indistinguishable cacophony of pained gurgles. The smell was horrendous. It grew worse as the white fire burned into his stomach and intestines, charring the digested contents...Mac could smell the cooked organs. He'd never forget the smell. The Griffon was still alive, though...thrashing in a futile display of agony. The breastplate had melted away, showing the cavernous remains of the trooper's midsection...it had been burned away by the white fire's ravenous hunger. The bird's ribcage gave way...the cooked organs dropped out onto the stone floor, filling the air with the horrid stench. The bird fell. He was dead. No pony said a word for several seconds. The remaining Griffon didn't move a muscle. Grey was the first to speak.

"Mac....what...what did you do?" His two comrades looked at him with shock. Even these two battle-hardened stallions had been horrified by Mac's brutality.

"Made fried chicken." Nothing. He felt nothing. He was nothing.

"I can't...oh my God....what the fuck...." Ty was dumbstruck. A sudden clattering sound from the remaining Griffon alerted the three stallions.

"I didn't think the Equestrians were butchers." The trooper spoke perfect Equestrian. He'd dropped his sword and removed his helmet. Ty aimed the crossbow at him and ordered him to surrender again...but it was moot.

"Claws up!! Don't move!!" The Griffon ignored him. Mac just stared. Still nothing...nothing. He walked over to the Griffon.

"Red!! Stay back!! What're you doing!?", cried the LT. Mac ignored him. He came face to face with the shell-shocked trooper. He towered over the tawny-feathered bird. He looked right into his dazed, brown eyes. The Griffon just...stared back at him...he looked about a thousand miles away.

"You cooked him. You burned him alive. Why?", asked the Griffon.

"I don't know.", answered Mac. The Griffon began chuckling, shaking his head. Tears began rolling down his face. He looked up into Mac's eyes with a dead expression. His eyes held no fear...not even hate. Just pain...a deadened resignation. It was "The Stare." Mac knew it well. The Griffon slowly turned his gaze to the half-risen Equestrian flag on the flagpole. He knew all was lost.

"You know, mon ami....those flags...this all meant nothing." He was right. Mac knew he was right. But he felt nothing.

"Yeah." The Griffon turned and slowly strode to the edge of the battlements...he turned one last time to face Mac.

"You've traded one dead flag for another. Goodbye." The Griffon jumped backwards off the battlements, falling to his death on the courtyard floor beneath them. His burned feathers were of no use...he couldn't fly. Mac...felt something finally.

"God...what just happened?", asked Grey. Mac wasn't sure.

The entire situation bore a vague feeling of reverence...like Mac had just spoken to God himself....a God who had told him of his sins. Suddenly, Mac was ashamed. The full extent of what he'd done struck him like a stone upon his skull. He felt sick to his stomach. He was an animal. A butcher. Why had he done this? He fell to the floor...he sat down against the parapet. He stared up into the sky.

"It's okay, man. It was an accident. You just reacted. You didn't know.", chimed Grey. But he had. He'd done it anyway. He just couldn't stop himself. (...animal...) That Griffon had been screaming for his mother...just like that dying colt on the tree...and Mac understood suddenly. He became his five year old self for a moment. He wanted his mama, too. Mama to come save him from himself....tell him he was going to be okay. But it wasn't okay. He'd never be okay again.

...the battle had been won at the cost of John Apple's equinity..............

....but a voice interrupted Mac's recollections and brought him back to the present. The voice was calling his name and knocking on the door...it was familiar...(...oh, right...AJ...man, my head's killin' me.) How long had he been floating off, lying there on the hard floor? He raised his head and looked over to the alarm clock sitting on his bedside nightstand to check the time. It was 0842. He hadn't been lying there too long, but he'd overslept. Even though it was Sunday....the only weekday the Apples took the day off....Mac himself always got up by 0700 by the absolute latest. That is, if he hadn't gotten completely hammered the night before or something. (Eeyup. Check in that box...poundin' headache? Check. Nausea? Check. Stomach cramps? Eeyup. Check. Feelin' of intense self-loathin' an' shame? Check.) But it wasn't all bad. He'd survived the overdose, albeit it had made him unbelievably sore (passin' out on the floor didn't help none either...) and sick to his stomach. The liquor had been the least of his worries. Now that he'd come down off the oxies and benzos, he was nauseous, jittery, and would likely behave like a highly irritable asshole in public. AJ pounded on the door again.

"John!! You okay in there?!" Honestly? He could honestly say, he'd had worse. As bad as last night had been...putting Rainbow to bed like that...he'd had much worse days than even yesterday. He answered her and cricked his stiff neck and back.

"Eeyup. Fine."

"You sure, John? You weren't answerin' me knockin' on yer door until just now. It ain't like ya' to oversleep an' ferget to do yer chores. so I got worried 'bout ya'. You sure yer okay in there?" The repetition of the same question like this would annoy most ponies, but that was just how she was. He could tell AJ was legitimately worried about him, seeing as she only used his first name when he was acting distant from the family or not behaving as he usually did.

"Eeyup. All okay. Just felt a little more tired than normal an' didn't set my alarm." Technically, it wasn't a lie.

"Okay...but can ya' come unlock the door?" He picked up his hat and put it on, walking towards his bedroom door. He unlocked it, opened it ajar, and poked his head out, getting a view of his little sister's worried expression. She'd probably gotten up at around 0700, too...

"See? All fine." Her worried expression changed to one of intense concern.

"Holy shitfire, Mac! Ya' look like hell!" He probably did. He wouldn't be surprised.

"Eeyup."

"Are ya' sick or somethin'?"

"Eenope. Drank a little last night, though." AJ likely didn't approve of his getting drunk, but she was relieved he was okay.

"Oh, good. Worried there fer a second. You ain't hardly never slept this late even on a Sunday. An' ya' look worse'n that dead possum Winona done dragged on the porch yesterday. ....and now that I'm sure you ain't dead...." Her relieved expression changed to one of irritation. (Oh, balls.)

"You mind explainin' why'n the hell we got two new additions to the farmhouse?!! An' why there was a dang towel layin' over a puddle a' puke all over the table an' kitchen floor?!!" (Shit. Well...now I 'member that other thing....I ain't lookin' forward to this next part...)

"Oh. That. Yeah. That's Rainbow's." (That didn't come out right... Made that sound like it were Rainbow's fault...head's still foggy...)

"Did she get you drunk or somethin'??!!" No, he'd gotten himself drunk last night. Rainbow had just come along for the ride.

"Nah...nah. She'n I just had a few last night. She an' her roomie got evicted, so I thought she could use a drink." AJ raised one eyebrow.

"She didn't....slip somethin' in yer drink, did she? Ya' know...a mickie or somethin'?"

"What?! No! AJ...what? Why would she do that?" Why, indeed! A better question would be the one as to how AJ could even consider that her best friend could do something like that. Why would AJ jump to the worst conclusion about Rainbow like that?

"Well, no reason in particular.... But it'd explain you oversleepin'. You always got yer chores an' stuff done by eight o' clock"

"She ain't like that. Not sure why yer implyin' it, AJ."

"I wasn't implyin' anythin'. She's...just a little...nevermind...wonder if she finally told ya'....now you mind explainin' why ya' didn't wake me or Granny up to tell us 'bout those two movin' in? Ya' can't just spring this on ponies at the last minute, John! I walked in on Ditzy Doo usin' the bathroom!"

"I'm sorry 'bout all that, but I couldn't just let 'em stay out in the cold last night."

"Lettin' 'em in outta' the cold's one thing, but ya' can't just be lettin' folks on in here without talkin' it over with me'n Granny!"

"Ya' already said Rainbow could stay, so I didn't figure it'd be much trouble."

"I'm proud of ya' bein' a gentlecolt an' all, Mac, but ya' still gotta' let us know this kind of stuff. How'd ya' feel if'n ya' woke up an' found some new houseguests ya' didn't know 'bout!?"

"Fine. I'm sorry. I get it already." AJ ignored him.

"An' what the sam hell is Ditzy doin' here?!"

"Self-explanatory."

"Couldja' stop bein' a smartass fer a minute and answer me?" Sure, he could....that is...if she'd get down off her soapbox, and stop being a sanctimonious windbag.

"Ditzy is her roommate. You know that already. Rainbow's landlord locked her out of her apartment, so she didn't have no place to go. Same fer Ditzy. Rainbow got evicted, ergo Ditzy got evicted. Real simple." He was irritable. He was sick to his stomach. He had a pounding headache. He'd just woken up. The last thing he wanted to do was get debriefed by his baby sister...but he knew he had to deal with it.

"That ain't what I meant!! I meant why'd she come here to the farm specifically?!"

"Didn't have no place to go. Same as Rainbow. She couldn't stay in her boyfriend's place after what happened to him. Cut 'em a break, AJ. Ain't they had a shitty enough week without you addin' to it?" Normally, he'd never curse in front of his family, but now...he didn't care right now. He felt like he'd rolled down the side of the mountain in the world's most disgusting garbage can. He felt crappy, and he was sore all over...he wasn't in the mood for this.

"Are you serious?!! You ain't turnin' this 'round on me, Mac!! I come down stairs to find a nasty mess all over the kitchen, find out two ponies done moved in, an' then ya' scare the hell outta' me by not answerin' me knockin' on yer door! Not only did I have to do yer goddang chores, but now I gotta' make livin' arrangements at the last minute! An' I banged on that door fer five minutes 'fore ya' answered!!" Had she? How could he have not heard her? How "out there" had he been? He'd been awake for about thirty minutes, so he couldn't have been asleep. He'd heard her call his name after all...

"You ain't gotta' make no livin' arrangements...they're already settled in their rooms. And they're gonna' help out around the farm to pay us back."

"Whatever! That's just fine an' dandy an' all!! But don't let me find out about it at the last dang minute! Why're you bein' a horse's ass, John?!" He was being kind of an asshole. She was well within her rights to protest.

"Yer right. I'm sorry. Just a little ornery right now, AJ. Sorry 'bout not lettin' ya' know....an' leavin' that mess. Just passed out 'fore I could clean it up." AJ's eyes softened.

"It ain't like ya' drinkin' like that, Mac. I expect it from Rainbow but not you." Why?

Rainbow barely drank. She couldn't handle the bottle very well. It was Mac who'd polished off most of that bottle. AJ had no idea. She knew about his smoking and got on his case for it, but she didn't know how much he drank. She still thought he was some...sort of "goody two-hooves" kind of guy. She didn't know about the drugs...how he'd almost OD'd about eight times since coming home. She didn't know about his "episodes." She didn't know how deep he'd been sucked into the vacuum. After he'd gotten out of the SF, AJ had acted as though Mac was a "saint" or something. She'd probably gotten the idea from all that saccharine, military propaganda on the radio: ("Honor, Courage, Loyalty, Piety, Godliness, Cleanliness, Propensity fer Takin' the Dick, etc. Defend freedom from tyranny or somethin', I guess! Get a stupid haircut an' act like a drunken jackass when ya' go out in town! Perform menial, pointless tasks for little reason other than to look busy! Get yelled at fer findin' a better way of doin' stuff, when yer boss tells ya' to do somethin' that was fuckin' retarded in the first place! Do you have an exceptionally loose sphincter an' really wanna' exploit it? Join up an' suck some big, veiny cocks today! Why not? It ain't like you got any better prospects! So come on down an' sign up to start gettin' a paycheck fer drawin' a fuckin' breath!")

"I'm fine. Rainbow ain't much of a drinker, though."

"She is accordin' to what she's been tellin' me."

"Not accordin' to what she done hawked up on that table last night, she ain't."

"Whatever you say, John. Believe whatever ya' want."

"Granny an' Bloom up yet?"

"Bloom just got in the shower. Granny's still asleep. So's Rainbow. Ditzy's up an' sittin' in the kitchen. Speakin' a' which, since I done all yer chores this morning, can ya' make everypony breakfast? I'm too burnt to cook right now."

"Alright. I'll take care of it. The kitchen still a mess?"

"Nope. I done cleaned that up, too....how much did Rainbow drink last night?"

"More than she should've. My fault. Shoulda' cut her off."

"It ain't yer fault, Mac. She's always been like that...pushin' the limits an' whatnot. By the way...hehehe....she wouldn't a' happened to tell ya' somethin' last night? Hehehe....somethin' personal maybe?" AJ was giggling about something. She had a sly grin on her face.

Did AJ know something about Rainbow, that Mac didn't? It made sense. They'd been friends for years. He'd only known her for two weeks....but he felt closer to her in just two weeks than in months of dating Cherilee. He knew a lot about her...she'd told him what was going on in her life...about her mother...about her friends...her dreams. Mac talked to Rainbow more than he did his own family...yeah...it seemed shitty, but he felt alienated by his family. Even though he loved them dearly, he and his family were simply too different to get closer...different contexts...experiences....they couldn't relate. Rainbow somehow understood him. She "got" him. He didn't have to pretend to be somepony he wasn't, so he wouldn't upset her. He didn't have to sugarcoat his words to keep from hurting her feelings. He was comfortable in her presence...he could be himself. He felt...constricted when he was with his family...he knew that sounded like a terrible thing to say, but it was true. He always had to police himself to hide how completely fucked he'd become. He loved them, but he'd completely cut himself off from them. They couldn't see who he was anymore. No pony really could. It was why he barely talked to anypony. He wasn't shy. He just didn't give a fuck about most ponies. It was easier to just say "eeyup/eenope" than to try to find common ground with the timid denizens of his hometown.

"Whaddya' mean?"

"Ya' know...tell ya' somethin' that was kinda' embarrassin'?"

"She was embarrassed 'bout gettin' evicted an' havin' to ask fer a place to stay."

"That ain't what I meant. Did she tell ya' somethin' 'bout herself? An' it involved you?" Huh?

"Not...really. Just talked 'bout her gettin' evicted, an' what I just told you. Then she lost her dinner. Had to carry her up to her room." AJ began giggling again. Seriously...what the hell was this all about?

"Hehehe...oh? Really now?...you put her to bed?" What was so funny?

"Eeyup."

"Hehehe...now I get it...bet she got a kick outta' that..." What the fuck was going on?

"What's this all about, AJ?"

"Nothin'. Nothin' at all. Well...I better go check on our guests. You should go get breakfast started 'fore Granny wakes up. So, Rainbow didn't tell ya' nothin' last night?"

"Fer the last time, AJ! No! I don't even know what yer talkin' 'bout!"

"Awwww...danggit! I owe Granny ten bits..." AJ turned away and left the room, muttering to herself about...whatever the fuck that was all about.

His head was aching...he was dehydrated. He really didn't feel like doing much of anything. He knew he wouldn't make it through the day like this. Only one option now... He went and opened his closet, taking out an army-issued first aid kit. He opened a small, white envelope-looking box with some stern, military-style print on it's front. It read "Type 39A Dextroamphetamine Methylephedrone Sulfate, 40 mg, 50 Tablets." It was powerful stuff. He'd have to be careful with the dosage, factoring in his tolerance and bodyweight to get the right amount. He'd acquired quite a few boxes of the stuff from various soldiers who sold off their surplus supply for cheap. He only had two boxes left, so he needed to conserve what he had left...then he'd have to meet a "friend" to get more.

"He definitely ain't no friend a' mine...complete asshole's what he is."

Mac thought about how many he'd need to counteract his hangover/opiate/benzo comedown...he decided to use an extra powerful dosage. He took out four, sky blue pills and laid them out his nightstand. He put the first aid kit back in his closet and went across the hall to his bathroom to get a disposable cup of water from the faucet to wash them down...but his upset stomach got the better of him...he emptied it into the open toilet. He wasn't feeling nice. That came without saying, of course. Good thing he hadn't taken the pills yet. He washed his face and brushed his teeth...after filling a small paper cup with water, he walked back into his room and locked his door behind him. He set the cup on the nightstand and crushed the four pills into a fine powder with his hoof...he swept the powder into the cup of water, swirling it gently to dissolve it. He turned up the cup of speed-laced water...it was nasty, but this method produced faster effects than just taking the pills normally. The taste was abominable, but he'd need the energy today.

After taking a quick shower and brushing his teeth again, Mac could feel the onset of the drug. Pretty soon, he'd be bouncing all over the place. He felt much better...optimistic even. Life wasn't so bad. (...but only when I'm doped up...) He dried off, making sure to toss the wet towels in the bathroom hamper...something that neither Granny nor Applebloom seemed capable of doing...EVER. But it was okay! He didn't mind much right now. He was ready to attack the day! He felt great! (...for now...) He walked back into his room and procured and lit up a cigarette from a pack sitting in his nightstand drawer. He started thinking about what he'd cook his girls for breakfast...he had to cook enough food for five mares...three of which he personally knew had voracious appetites...Granny, AJ, and Rainbow would eat a skunk's asshole were it cooked right, but Applebloom was a finicky eater on a good day. He'd have to cook something that all of them would like...but what about the fifth one?

He wasn't sure about Derpy, but she looked as though she didn't eat much. She was a bit too skinny; her slender Pegasus frame made it all the more obvious. He could almost see the little mare's ribcage, albeit this was likely just due to how she appeared to big, bulky Earth ponies in contrast. Rainbow was just as slender and even smaller than Derpy, but she was just athletic and lean. The two mares would likely eat even less now what with the depression and all...he'd just have to fatten the poor, little things up a bit! He smiled. (...poor, little Ditzy...) That poor, sweet little mare didn't have a mean bone in her body...she'd never done anything to hurt anypony for any reason. She hadn't deserved what happened to Milky. The least he could do was make her (an' Rainbow) feel welcome on the farm...and he could start by whipping up a damn fine breakfast. Mac's thoughts turned back towards what he should make...he had it!

"Strawberry cream cheese-stuffed Prench toast...I can top it with a little powdered sugar an' make a dippin' sauce. Maybe some scrambled eggs, too. Ain't no way anypony could turn their nose up at that!" Bingo. He had all the ingredients he needed in the kitchen.

He'd made the dish once for breakfast with Cherilee back when they were dating. She'd loved it. Those Griffons and ponies in Prance really knew their cuisine. It'd be a great way to make his two guests feel welcome...and maybe...maybe Rainbow would like him a little more...think a little higher of him...maybe it'd make up for last night. Rainbow had vomited up most of the liquor she drank last night, so she probably wouldn't have a too bad a hangover...she'd still have her appetite. In fact, she'd probably be starving, seeing as she'd lost her dinner. Yeah. She'd be hungry. He smiled and blushed a bit. He really hoped she liked his cooking...after last night's events, it was something for him to look forward to. She was so cute....she had so much enthusiasm for life. For just...being alive. Unlike him. He wished he knew her secret. Pained as she was, she loved doing...doing everything. (...sweet, little face...that giggle...angel...)

He chuckled again. He knew she couldn't cook at all. Applebloom had told him that! Imagine how bad a cook somepony must be, when the veritable "Queen of Dysentery-inducing Cuisine" gave that pony a bad review!! But...it was cute. He could just do all the cooking...if she wanted...wanted to be with...(...insects screamin' in them holes...they'll be on the floor any minute now...stop it!! Enough a' that!!") He didn't mind. It'd make her happy. That was a good enough incentive for him...anything that made her smile was worth it... That look in her eye...that sparkle. The way she looked at him...it made him feel alive again. He'd do anything for her to look at him that way. He'd kill for her. He'd degrade himself (even more) for her. He knew he was too fucked up to even consider loving her up close, but he could love her from afar...be her friend...to save her from the yellow sickness in his eyes. He'd just love her on the inside. Keep the feelings hidden. But he wanted so much more. The way he'd held her last night...(...please, God...baby...I love you...I don't...I can't...) He'd felt as though his heart would burst last night...she'd been so cherubic...so lovely...an ocean of blue down shining under the cold stars and pale moon.

Mac heard a loud bump followed by some cursing coming from the other bathroom down the hall. Granny had woken up finally...he chuckled. She always stubbed her forehooves on the edge of the door. Apparently, she'd decided to use the other bathroom for whatever reason. Mac took his hat off his bed and put it on. He took casual puffs from his cigarette and stared out his bedroom window...he could see the entire town from here... in the distance just over the trees. Sweet Apple Acres was beautiful in the morning...the way the emerald green grass shined with the morning sun...the unspoiled, virgin sky...blue...blue like her. He smiled again...life wasn't so bad. He had his family. He had Steel and Rainbow. Hell, he even had this nice view from his bedroom window. Ponyville wasn't such a bad place to live...(...but my head is...it is...it is...inside.)

He directed his attention to the center of town. His mood darkened at the sight of something in the distance. He could see the flagpole outside city hall...the sky blue flag was emblazoned with the likenesses of both princesses and their respective celestial bodies. (Bugs...crawlin' 'cross the floor...CoMIn' TO EaT ME!!!) He tried to redirect his thoughts to something more upbeat, but the chittering, churning vat of black bugs overwhelmed even Mac's speed-fueled, dopamine-saturated brain. He couldn't forget it now. He knew the flag meant nothing. Equestria was dying. It's flag signified nothing but pained, hollow voices trapped inside a machine that was bleeding to death...like that poor colt's voice...screaming for his mother with a tree branch in his gut...(Oh...God, no...he looked like fuckin' Milky Way...exactly...) Mac's brutality had sullied the victory at the fort. It signified nothing but his own drowned self, screaming for air in a vat of acid. That Griffon had been right about their nations' flags....flying in the breeze with no true meaning. No true unity...

"...both them flags are dead at the tops of their poles." He turned around...he could see them sometimes. The insects that were always screaming in the catacombs of his brain sometimes manifested. They churned in a shiny, chitinous mass on his bed...chittering. They wanted to eat him. Eat his mind. (Not today, motherfuckers. My baby needs me. She needs me...) He called out to them. They could hear his drowned voice...through the acid of his flailing life. His self-made machine of anguish.

"I reckon y'all wanna' eat me, huh?"

The bugs chittered in affirmation.

"Well...heheheh...y'all are gonna' have to take a raincheck on that. I gotta' go make breakfast fer my girls. I'll presume you understand my predicament, yeah?"

The bugs chittered again in affirmation.

They crawled off the bed...the altar of Mac's subconscious vehicle to the Void. They could wait. They'd been waiting for years now. They could wait a bit longer. He felt them crawl back into the black honeycombs of his head. They'd be back for the rest of his carcass later...they'd fucking eat him alive while he died slowly in the black. (Oh, well. C'est la vie.)

"I hope she likes Prench toast...I hope she likes it...I'm okay...I'm okay." He was okay...okay...he was okay.

He wasn't okay.

Author's Notes:

This is all somewhat based on an actual experience of mine. Later, I'll expand upon each of Mac's squadmates....but it's just too much damn work right now.

Oh, and my sincerest apologies about the excessive cursing. It's just how infantrymen talk...I can't imagine ponies would be much different.

And sorry for the length of this chapter. I had to write about Mac's experience in one go. It'd be too confusing and fragmented to write it how I usually do. Here's a bit of music for Mac's memories:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x0FAosDi4XA