*READ THE FOLLOWING BEFORE READING STORY, PLEASE*     I just want to start off with saying that this is my first fanfic, criticism is welcome but respect is wanted. I want to thank Bronymaster for proof reading this and taking on every other story I create. Also the picture was made in paint and consists of two pictures. I don't know there origin so I apologize to the creators\owners. Also I don't like to swear my head off but I wanted to simulate a solder’s vocabulary. Also it may be a little cheesy. And lastly, for those who do not know what a PMC is, it is a mercenary, but they don't kill for money, mostly they give security. But also take advantage of their powers. Something a US Soldier would not be able to do without getting shunned by the media. Well, that is it and I hope you enjoy! OH and how could I forget to mention that even though this chapter lacks ponies, don't worry I just wanted to give an in depth story to the main character. Don't worry chapter 2 will have many, many ponies! :3

I sit in the hot, uncomfortable truck bumping up and down over the many rocks and rubble that decorate the landscape. It’s another day of hard work; today we have an hour long drive into a village to go pick up a shipment of AK-47s from some sleazy Israelis. But knowing those pricks, they are probably crappy Chinese Type 56s. And we are driving for an hour in this home-made armored vehicle which does not just give us shitty protection, but doubles as a fucking oven. But it isn’t all bad; we have the luxury of phones with a connection. While everybody else was enjoying sports and expensive porn, I was eagerly watching one of my favorite shows. My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. Yeah, a big tough Private Military Contractor strapped with guns and 300 pounds of muscle is watching a little girl’s show.

It all started in 2010 when I was coming home from 3 years in the Canadian Military. When I got home I had problems, I became paranoid, socially awkward and I was having early symptoms of PTSD. But above all of that, my family was breaking apart. When I came home, shit hit the fan. I drank for hours, hit my wife and talked down my 6 year old daughter. I told her how useless she was to me out of drunken rage. It only took a week for my wife to file for divorce. It was a quick one. We thought it would be best if we didn’t have any more drama, especially with Emily around. In August my little girl started to come over, we would play in the back yard, I tried to get her interested in what I did in Afghanistan but she didn’t seem to have any interest. After a while she started to tell me about this show she really liked.

So we watched it, and that was the first My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic I saw. I saw it with closed arms, after how shitty I saw the 80s one was, I wasn’t expecting ANYTHING better. It was the one when Zecora is shown as the outcast in Ponyville, everybody fears her and she is blamed for putting a curse on the Mane 6. I enjoyed it very much, and even though I didn’t know the characters, I understood the ironic situations that were given to them. After that, I looked up on the internet to see where I could view more of these. After some searching I found videos and blogs talking about male fans of the show. They called themselves “Bronies” I smiled at the thought that I was not the only one.

Even though I was not a fan of the internet after falling for many scams and viruses, I enjoyed this. I got a little active in the community of Bronies and I was a little happier each day. But my problems back home got worse. I had multiple violent outbreaks now and started to act like a hermit. I needed to get back into service, I only knew that now.

After searching only seconds on my computer, I found something. Private Military Contractors, the work seemed easy; what you did basically was provide security to people who would pay. I thought my best bet was to work for a Private Military Company located in Afghanistan. I set out for training and in months I was on a plane to fly over seas to my new job. It was October 2011 when I started to serve. It was going to be simple, 108 days over here, 30 days back in British Columbia, then another 108 days and I would retire for good. Hoping that would give me my fill.

I was the only one in our company that understood the internet and up to date fads. So everybody else mocked me for enjoying the show, they gave me a nickname. Most PMCs have nicknames, but they usually choose one themselves and except it. Mine was Ponyboy; they thought they were very clever killing two birds with one stone in that joke. I wasn’t bothered by its intention; I had no shame being a Brony. But when you are surrounded by possible enemies every day you want a more intimidating name. They would purposely raise their voice when they mention my name hoping anybody that understood English would have a good laugh. It got me very mad, not many people laughed, mostly kids, but I bet they did it not because they could understand our language but they knew it was teasing. After about only 24 minutes into our road trip, the other guys started to get bored of their football and small screens with nude bodies and decided to go at me.

My friend, James McCormack (known as Vulture) pulled my ear buds out of my phone so that everybody could hear Pinkie Pie singing a song about a party for a toothless alligator. They all had a good laugh and started with the endless jokes. Lucky for me the driver interrupted them as he slid the rusty slide door to the side to shout at us “Looks like we got some villagers up on the road giving us the stink eye” I thought that is was just going to be them pulling us to the side to complain about the war we started even though we aren’t the military.

The driver seemed to be nervous while he shouted at the passengers to put up the steel plates onto the window pans. He saw something that none of us did, but soon the smiles lowered down to concerned faces. We put on any gear we had such as our vests and helmets. Unlike most of the vehicles that PMCs had, we did not have a mounted turret on the top, so we were pretty defenseless. The driver stepped on the gas and we were flying inside this deathtrap which lacked seat belts our any cushion on the seats.

After a few minutes of aggressive shaking, we slowed down. Then shit hit the fan and the side of the truck was hit with some sort of explosion. I am guessing an RPG-7 or something in that nature. The blast was incredible; it felt like I got the wind punched out of me plus every one of my limbs and head. The whole vehicle fell to the side turning all of us into a heavy dog pile. I thanked God that there were no Asians or smaller men in our company or they would be crushed by the rest of us. The ones who remained conscious, like me, got up and hit the door with the stocks of our guns. I only had an MP5 with a small folding wire stock. Luckily the other guys had M4 and AK guns with thick stocks.

After a while we got the door open. Everybody grabbed anyone who was passed out by the backpack handle and dragged them out. The advantage of having such a small gun that has low recoil was I could shoot with one hand while everybody else couldn’t. I don’t know if I hit anybody, I was so fucking scared that if I stopped, they would shoot me. But of course, only having a magazine of 30, I was out quickly. My objective was to get this guy out of here and to cover; there were only a few big rocks out here. But I saw where the other survivors were hiding so I picked up the pace.

It was not only the insurgents firing at me, but also the vehicle. It was only going to be a few seconds before it blows up. I felt bad for the passenger and driver but I knew they were dead by now and even if they weren’t, it would be stupid. As I felt hot blood land on my head and looked to see my unconscious friend was dead. I didn’t hesitate to drop him and immediately began to sprint. I ran to Vulture’s side behind the rock to be greeted by the muzzle of his gun. I saw a flash and felt a sharp punch in my stomach. He accidently shot me thinking I was an enemy.

His chin dropped as I fell to the ground. I felt him drag me towards him and he yelled for a medic. But none came; they were dead or busy. I could hear him yell “Fuck me, I am so sorry. Hold on, you can make it, WHERE THE FUCK IS THAT MEDIC?!” His angry yelling started to fade into the background with all the gun fire. The pain was unbearable but I was too out of breath to yell. After what seemed like hours I finally started to fade out. I could feel his hot tears roll down my chin as he whispered something to me. I couldn’t understand what; I couldn’t really hear anything, only the pain in my torso and the boiling hot sun.

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I came to with the feeling of dull pain in my body and the sounds of beeps, from a machine. I opened one eye as I saw a white ceiling and the sounds of women talking about a blood test. I felt so relieved; I don’t know how but I was in a hospital. I bent my head down and heard a furious crack that came with it. I looked down to see the shadows of what must have been a crowd of people. They were all whispering, or it was just because my ears were ringing. After those blurs, my eyes were suddenly filled with colorful ponies. I thought one thing, “Oh fuck, I am dead.” and then I found one pink pony right in my face screaming “Hello there funny looking!” “Yep, I’m dead” I thought to myself as I closed my eyes."