Clockwork reclined on the couch in his quarters, taking a deep breath as he did. He stretched his limbs and whistled.

“So, Stalliongrad, huh?” he asked himself.

The pegasus had more than enough time to contemplate his squad’s next location of deployment. The teleportation drive had been experiencing a few minor bugs lately, and the crew certainly didn’t want to take any unnecessary chances with such a valuable (and unstable) piece of experimental technology. Long story short, Szary and her occupants were taking the old fashioned way to Stalliongrad, by steam-powered propellers.

From what Clockwork understood, Stalliongrad was essentially a second Canterlot, but with a lot more dirt and grime. Well, there was also the fact that Stalliongrad wasn’t built into the side of an extinct volcano but that was somewhat besides the point. The “Fortress City” was home to the Behemoth Engine, an immense energy producing facility large enough to occupy the space of a standard munitions factory, times five. For a long time, the formerly crude wonder of engineering and its counterparts were largely responsible for the pollution that had plagued Equestria during the first Industrial Revolution. Only after the cleansing, when all but one was shut down, did it become refined to the point where its waste outpoint was almost zero. Despite having such a massive power source at their command, the mares and stallions in charge of the city had determined that it was best to direct a majority of the Engine’s energy output to the city’s war factories, facilities where everything from bullets to the guns that fired them all the way up to the zeppelins that housed the soldiers that carried those guns were made.

Clockwork chuckled as he realized that he may have been romanticizing the engines, for it was due to them that he even existed at all. His mother, Quick Fix, (just one of hundreds of ponies) had made a living out of caring for the engine. Due to a booking mix up, she and a foreigner from Ponyville by the name of Gearbox had met in the same place with the intent of achieving the same goal. One thing led to another, and the rest was history. In a way, Stalliongrad was Clockwork’s second home.

“EEEEE!” a familiar, excited pony barreled through the room and directly into Clockwork, almost knocking him out of his resting place. “Ican’tbelievewe’regoingtoStalliongradI’vealwayswantedtogothereandohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh!” Haywire’s speech dissolved into excited drabble as a panting Wetwork followed her into the room and politely shut the door behind her.

“Sorry. We just got the news about our next assignment and you know how she gets when-”

“I know.” Clockwork interrupted his marefriend as he wrenched himself from the giggling, wiggling mass atop him. “I just never thought you two would be so excited about going to such a heavily industrialized city. I always thought something more along the lines of Trottingham or Hoofington. You know, someplace with better scenery-”

“What? Just because we’re mares?!” Haywire instantly regained her composure. “We’re engineers! Why in Equestria wouldn’t we be excited to visit the industrial capital of the world, even if it’s on military business?”

“I’ve heard that Stalliongrad is a beautiful place to visit nonetheless.” Wetwork added. “Surely there is something there that can placate us for the time being.”

Clockwork shrugged then nodded. Stalliongrad had its fair share of interesting architecture, a few museums, those kinds of things. "If I get some free time, I'll take the both of you wherever you want."

"Really?!"

"Sure."

"Alright Meteor," Long Shot addressed his team. "we'll be arriving in Stalliongrad shortly, and our mission here is gonna be a bit different from what you're all used to. You up for it?"

"Yes sir!"

Long Shot smirked, proud to have such dauntless companions. "This war hasn't been on for that long, but we've seen some of the worst of it nonetheless. The upper brass knows this, and since we can't just go on shore leave in the middle of this damned conflict, we're being reassigned to defensive duties within Stalliongrad until further notice."

"No suicide missions or one-chance attacks?" Mganga inquired.

"Unless the entire griffon fleet shows up, we're doomed to a somewhat relaxing mission."

Mganga pouted, albeit lightheartedly. "Pity."

"Commander." Charger addressed her superior. "High command wouldn't just send us to one of Equestria's valuable cities for simple guard duty. Why Stalliongrad? Why not a city at higher risk?"

"Because Stalliongrad is arguably the highest priority Supremacy target." Switcher answered. "This city's tactical importance is second only to Canterlot's , symbolically and politically."

Long Shot shrugged. "Doesn't mean they won't succeed even if they try something as stupid as attacking. They don't call Stalliongrad the Fortress City for nothing. That's all I've got. Any questions?"

Clockwork raised a hoof. "Why such a short brief? Did we miss anything by accident?"

"I highly doubt that. The briefing I got from the sisters was even shorter. We should be nearing the docks; load up!"

Without another word, the five soldiers made their way onto the squad's personal dropship, a freshly built Vikare, took their seats, and strapped in.

Clockwork went through the standard, last minute procedures before any combat drop. His weapon was loaded and he had several reloads to spare. His armor was not an inch out of place and his wing was in prime condition. No dents, no misshapen feathers, no-

"Clockwork. Is something troubling you?" Charger asked.

The pegasus looked over from adjusting his goggles. Wait a second, this wasn't a combat drop, was it? "Erm. . . no, I'm fine." he waited for the mare to call him on his bullshit, but she never did.

It wasn't much longer before a series of thunderous, metallic clanks signalled to all aboard Szary that she had docked. The zeppelin bay doors parted, allowing the Vikare to descend to the metropolis below.

The Vikare's new pilot deemed it unnecessary to close the dropship's ramp, and so the squad was treated to a constant gush of chilled morning air and the rising sun as it reflected off of the city's many structures. Almost at once, the hues of bronze, steel, and copper reminded Clockwork of Ponyville, and in turn, his parents.

Last he heard, Quick Fix and Gearbox were living comfortably in one of Stalliongrad's larger apartment blocks. Clockwork determined that he'd make a surprise visit later, and maybe even bring Wetwork with him to see if his mom approved of her.

"Clockwork, your teeth are chattering. Please be honest with me, are you okay?" Charger asked once again.

"Huh? Yeah, I'm fine. Just wondering if I should've brought a jacket or not." he lied. When Charger had turned her attention elsewhere, Clockwork decided that he had had enough of the scenery for a while and refocused his efforts on trying to get comfortable. Something didn't feel right about all this. Their descent was too smooth, too uninhibited, too easy. Where were the enemy anti-air defenses? Where was-

Clockwork smacked himself with a hoof. Dammit, Stalliongrad was under Alliance control and as such he didn't need to worry about getting shot out of the sky.

The pegasus steeled his nerve for the rest of the ride down, hoping that it would be enough.

Clockwork tilted his head to one side. "Shore leave, sir?"

Long Shot nodded. "Yep. Apparently this city and everyone in it knows the risk of invasion, and as such has a surplus of both civilian militia and trained soldiers. Meteor, I hereby relieve the squad of duty until tomorrow, where we shall reconvene aboard Szary. Dismissed!"

Clockwork stood there dumbfounded as his teammates left him to attend to various other tasks, be they sightseeing, restocking supplies, or some other thing.

Even after a rejected offer from Charger to tour the city beside her, Clockwork remained still, eventually mustering enough willpower to make his way to the top of the wall that surrounded the city.

The fortification was magnificent from an engineer's standpoint. Fifty feet of steel and concrete, a perfect vertical barricade against any and all fathomable land invasions. In the unfortunate case of air attack, coaxial anti-air/personnel cannons were spaced evenly around the wall and the floor below, capable of reducing even the most well armored vehicles to flaming rubble with sustained fire. Of course, this would all only be put to use if anyone stupid enough to attempt a head-on assault actually managed to break through the city's shields.

It was barely visible, the only sign the magical barricade existed at all being a faint blue glimmer. It was a heavily improved version of the shield spell created by Rear Admiral Prince Shining Armor, and was sustained by none other than the Behemoth Engine, needing only a fraction of its energy output to do so.

As Clockwork descended the barrier, he determined that now might be a good time to call his friends down, and after a short bout of radio conversation, three ponies met at the agreed upon destination.

Almost immediately, Haywire bolted away from her friends with a large map in tow. Upon further examination, Clockwork found the chart to be absolutely slathered with markings that made clear the location of next to every landmark in the city. It took some serious convincing before the earth pony relented on her fervent desires, agreeing to visiting the three most famous, and closest, landmarks.

First stop: The Behemoth Engine.

While it was good to feel his marefriend next to him as to hold off a bit of the chill, Clockwork found more comfort in the strange familiarity of the industrial haven. Cobblestone streets, somewhat dirty skies, familiar metals and their resulting shades of brown and grey, it all reminded him of Ponyville to an extent. Stalliongrad was by technicality the largest city under Equestrian control, surpassing even Canterlot in terms of land area and population. Still, Clockwork couldn’t help but feel like something was very off.

“YES!” Haywire squealed. “There it is!”

Clockwork didn’t need to strain his eyes in the slightest to see what Haywire was referring to. A good way’s off in the distance, Stalliongrad’s last Behemoth Engine was visible and functioning at what appeared to be peak capacity. The next several minutes were spent listening to Haywire practically drool over how magnificent the machine was, from its history and inner workings to the surprisingly minimal number of workplace deaths that occurred within the massive facility. It appeared reasonable to assume that, had she not accepted Clockwork’s invitation to join Szary’s crew, she may have ended up working on the Engine in some way.

Clockwork strained a smile, still unable to rid himself of unease. Said smile changed little when he noticed a familiar stallion off in the distance. The pegasus gradually made his way up to him without saying a word, stood before him, and held out a hoof in greeting. “It’s good to see you again, Dad.”

Gearbox raised an eyebrow at his son’s sudden appearance and gesture. “My apologies, soldier, but you seem to have mistaken me for- CLOCKWORK!” he scooped his offspring into a bear hug. “How much you’ve grown son!. Dear Celestia, you look so different now!”

“I. . . do?’ Clockwork was unsure if that was a good or bad thing.

“Why else would I have hardly recognized you at first glance?”

Clockwork shrugged, trying not to focus on the aching in his ribs.

“Is something wrong, kiddo?”

“Not at all.” Clockwork lied and gestured to his two companions. “I’d like you to meet my friends from Research and Development, the one that I told you about way back in Ponyville. Wetwork, Haywire, this is Gearbox. He’s my Dad, if that wasn’t already apparent enough.”

“Charmed.” Wetwork shook the stallion’s hoof firmly, but what caught slightly off guard when Gearbox raised her hoof to kiss it gently.

“The honor is all mine, madam.”

“Hiya!” Haywire nudged her blushing friend aside and shook the elder pony’s hoof fervently. “I’ve heard a whole lot about you, Mr. Box! Your papers on self perpetuating motion machines and redirection of waste thermal energy were remarkably thorough! Your exo-wings are the best out there! I’m a huge fan of your work.”

“I can see that.” the stallion chuckled. “I didn’t think I had a fanbase of my own. I thought that was reserved for my son.”

“Oh he kinda does, actually! What with slaying of bug monsters and weeding out traitors and all that sort of stuff, who wouldn’t have-”

“Perhaps, it would be better if we continued this discussion somewhere not out in the open.” Clockwork struggled to keep his wing over his companion’s still running mouth.

“Why not my apartment?’ Gearbox asked. “It’s quite roomy, actually, and if my watch is correct , I suspect dear Quick Fix already has supper on the boil.”

Clockwork’s stomach grumbled. “I’ll admit that I skipped breakfast today and had a light lunch. I could use some sustenance right around now.”

Like that, the four were trotting off to a location only one of them knew by heart. “So how have you been, kiddo?”

“Fine, thanks.”

“You got taller.”

“I did?”

“I wouldn’t say more than a few inches, but it’s noticeable. You’ve sprouted a few more grey hairs, too.”

“Damn.” the pegasus chuckled under his breath as he remembered a certain conversation long ago regarding grey hair. “So what have you been doing in Stalliongrad all this time?”

“Well, we’re certainly not soldiers, and we’re far too old to be effective members of the local militia. Mother and I have many jobs, but almost all of them cycle back to maintenance on the Behemoth back there. Did I ever tell you how she led to your mother and I meeting long before you were conceived?”

Clockwork blew a stray piece of his mane out of his face as he nodded. “Only about a hundred times over.”

“I haven’t!” Haywire exclaimed. “I love stories!”

“Truthfully, I am interested in this tale as well.” Wetwork added.

“It’s nothing special, really,” Gearbox began. “I was assigned to oversee the replacement of a few key parts within the Engine’s deeper mechanisms. Due to a booking error, two ponies had actually been assigned, neither one realizing the mistake until it was far too late. I met Clockwork’s mother, argued with her for a while, lost, took her out to dinner, and I think you two are a little young to hear the rest for now.”

“Dad!” Clockwork’s cheeks went flush.

“What?” the stallion laughed. “I’m a very straightforward man!”

“DAD!”

After a bout of laughter all around, the two males were left to their own devices, as were the two females until. . .

“We’re here.” Gearbox proclaimed as he retrieved a small key from within his coat. Before the four was a building, no more than three stories high and stretching on for a considerable distance. It was an almost demoralizing shade of grey. “Room 31, first floor.” the stallion added as the group made their way to the appropriate door. “Apparently we were considered ‘high priority individuals’, hence the short walk.”

“I wouldn’t call it short.” Haywire chided herself as she relaxed her joints.

The door creaked open, and Clockwork was treated to a surprising view. It wasn’t the luxurious, familiar tapestries and smells that interested him the most, nor the sight of his mother, almost completely unchanged despite all this time. No, it was the reason why she was sitting at the table in the center of room. She was speaking with somepony.

Charger.

“I am honored to know that I have your approval, let us not speak of this to anypony sans your husband until-”

“SON!” Quick Fix rushed to her son faster than lightning, enveloping him in a warm, slightly uncomfortable embrace as she relished in the presence of her only child. “I. . . I missed you so much. . . I. . .” she struggled to formulate sentences amidst gratuitous sobbing, but ultimately failed.

Clockwork laughed as he returned the hug, consistently reassuring his mother that he was safe (for the time being, anyway). After Quick Fix had finished her tearful reunion, she hesitantly withdrew from her son. “It’s wonderful to have you back. Oh!” she exclaimed. “I was just finishing up dinner, but I may be able to add a little something extra on for some unexpected though lovely guests!”

Clockwork wasn’t sure exactly who she was referring to, but didn’t ponder for too long as he found his place at the table and remained standing. He looked over to his best friend, finding her forehooves free of her gloves. “Hey, Charger.”

“Hello.”

“Fancy meeting you here.”

“Indeed.” she took a sip of whatever she was drinking. “Why don’t you sit down? Surely you are tired from the long walk over.”

“I’m not the man of the house, and as such my father is the civilian equivalent of this household’s commanding officer, I will only be seated when he has done so first.”

“Clocky, we’re off duty, remember?” Haywire cooed as she took her seat opposite him with Wetwork at her side.

“I wouldn’t consider you the most astute at following military regulation when off duty.” Wetwork added as she adjusted in her seat to ensure that she was comfortable. “After all you’ve been through, I’m a bit concerned at your lack of rest.”

“I was not aware of this.” Charger turned to her ally, concern present in her sapphire eyes. “Since when have you been losing sleep?”

Clockwork shrugged but remained standing. “Since Mtego.”

“Ah.”

“Since what?” both of Clockwork’s parents asked as they took their seats. Clockwork did the same, followed by his mother once again expressing her concerns over her offspring’s well being.

“Unless Celestia smiles upon you the entire time, every soldier that takes part in warfare will be harmed in some way or another.” Clockwork replied gloomily. “Either physically or mentally, in my case, both.”

Oddly enough, it was Gearbox who asked the obvious first. “What on Earth have you been through, son?”

Clockwork tensed up, gazing at the heavily distorted reflection of his face in his soup bowl. The image flashed to one of horror, something Clockwork had yet to find a word to describe. It took all his willpower to look up from the sudden hallucination and answer with a straight face. “I’ve been through a lot, actually. I’d say the first really big thing to happen to me was-”

“Clockwork, please.” Charger placed a gentle hoof on hiss left shoulder, brushing it carefully across the fire ruby and noticing that the once beautiful gem had dulled in both color and clarity. “If you do not feel comfortable speaking about such matters, I would suggest you hold off.”

Clockwork thought over her recommendation for a long time. “Well, what do you two think?’ he asked his parents. “If you guys really want to hear this stuff, I won’t argue, but-”

“To be perfectly honest with you, son,” Gearbox interrupted. “I believe your mother and I would rather not hear of your ventures for now. Perhaps later?”

Clockwork nodded, finally consuming a spoonful of his dinner. It was delicious in every sense of the word, but it did little to comfort him. “Yeah, maybe.”

The dinner continued in semi-silence, with all at the table exchanging bits and bobbles of conversation and even a few lighthearted laughs. All the while though, Clockwork continued to glance out of the large window by the door. The curtains were light, incapable of preventing curious eyes from seeing the shadows of those that occupied the room. A trained sniper could hit each shadow in a matter of seconds, and his targets would have zero time to react before at least two of them went down. The first to become casualties would likely be Wetwork and Haywire, seeing as they were the most exposed. The other four would be easy pickings after that.

“Son, are you alright?” Gearbox’s voice broke Clockwork out of his trance. “You’ve been looking at that window for a while now. Do you need me to close the heavier curtains?”

Clockwork looked to his father. From a tactical standpoint, that would be best. “No, I’ll. . . I’ll be alright.”

In truth, Clockwork was not alright. He had to get somewhere sa-. . . somewhere where he could clear his head. “I. . . need to go for a walk.”

“Shall I accompany you?’ Wetwork asked.

“No.” Clockwork replied harshly. “I need to be alone for a bit. I’ll be back soon.”

“I would prefer it if you stayed, but if you would feel more comfortable on your own, I will not object.” Charger replied.

Like that, Clockwork was out the door. As soon as he made sure that the entryway was secure, he checked his pistol. Nine rounds plus shotgun shell. Good, if he got into a firefight he could at least-

The stallion punched himself in the jaw, hard. What the hell was getting into him? He was safe, but was he?

Clockwork! At ease!

The pegasus refused his own orders and took off at a brisk trot, but soon found the cobblestone loud enough to give away his position and took flight.

Dammit Clock, get a grip!

The pegasus forced himself to land, albeit out of the way of any major intersections or streetlamps. It was then that he had an idea. He reached for his radio. “Commander Long Shot, are you there?”

“I’m here, kid. You sound troubled.”

“That’s putting it lightly.”

“Anything wrong?”

“I’d prefer it if we spoke face to face.”

“Alright. I’m at this little bar, I think it’s called Marelotov? On the corner of. . . eh, I can’t remember off the top of my head. Just look for the flaming beer bottle. I’m in the back.”

“Thank you, sir. I’ll meet you shortly.” Clockwork ended the transmission and took flight once more. He finally let his fears and concerns into his mind full throttle. Something was seriously wrong. Why send an High Risk Operations Team to guard one of, if not the, most heavily fortified population center under Equestrian control? It was a complete and total waste of a valuable resource The odds of attack where high, supposedly, but the chances of sucess were impossibly small. Yet, no matter how powerful a shield is, if enough damage is sustained, it will fail. The forcefield around Stalliongrad was no exception, and even the Behemoth Engine had a limit to its energy output before “catastrophic deactivation” as it was called.

Clockwork sighed and decreased his altitude to get a better view of his surroundings. He’d bring all of his concerns to his commanding officer in due time, and hopefully he would be able to put his fears to rest.

“It has been some time, Warfather.” the Emperor’s voice boomed. “tell me, how do you feel?”

The warrior priest raised himself from a kneeling position to display the full functionality of his rapidly healed, and upgraded, limbs and joints. The moves were almost robotic, uncharacteristic of the griffon’s expertise. He hated them, and wished for nothing more than to have them removed, even if it meant a severely lengthened recovery time. He knew the emperor would not allow such a thing and have him euthanized on the spot. Warfather was a superb combatant, but he was replaceable. “These implants, though unnecessary, will do little to inhibit my combat abilities.” he looked to his right and found Echo, his only noticeable injury being his heavily bandaged paws. Underneath his cloak, however, Warfather was well aware of the seemingly endless bruises he had sustained during the conflict for control of Appleloosa. “We are fit for deployment the moment you deem us worthy.” he returned to his kneeling position.

“Good.” the Emperor’s talons intertwined. “I have set aside the eighth legion for a sole purpose, a single invasion. I believe the time is now to commence this attack, and you and your dog friend are to lead said assault.”

“My lord. The attack of which you speak. . . it is unlikely that even a single ship will return home.”

“I fully understand the costs and benefits and have placed them under heavy consideration. You shall commence the attack at dawn. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Report back to me when all that the sun shines on has been reduced to ash. It is time that the Alliance learns exactly what the Supremacy is capable of.”

Clockwork gently landed a good distance away from the club he was directed to. Despite his best efforts, his hooves made a sharp CLOP! as he touched down. He flinched at the giving away of his position, but steeled his resolved and trotted toward the bar.

Just as the commander had described, a brightly glowing sign, depicting a bottle of alcohol, a cloth stuffed in the top and set aflame, hung above the doors. The pegasus gulped and looked around one last time before finally heading inside.

A myriad of sensations overtook the off-duty soldier. Low, soft jazz mixed evenly with the hushed laughter of several groups of patrons. The scents of both cheap and exotic alcohols, cigars, and even a few perfumes blended together in a somewhat pleasant aroma, far better tailored to adults rather than adolescents.

The drinking laws must have been relaxed in Stalliongrad, as nopony approached Clockwork, asking whether or not he had proof of age or similar identification as he made his way to the far back of the room. After searching a few booths, the pegasus found his commander in the last, two drinks before him, one of which was half-empty. "Commander." Clockwork snapped to attention.

Long Shot returned the gesture before relaxing his posture. "At ease, Clockwork. Have a seat and a drink. I figured you might like something simple though refined, so I got you some scotch. How's that sound?"

Clockwork took his seat and eyed the alcohol with slight distaste, though he did find the aged color pleasant. "Thank you, sir, but I must refuse. I'm not one for alcohol of any sort, really."

"One can't dislike something they've never tried."

"Actually," Clockwork added. "I accidentally drank some vodka straight out of the bottle when I was eight. Kinda scarred me for life." he ended with a light laugh.

"Damn." Long Shot straightened up, downing the rest of his drink in a heartbeat. "I'm sorry to hear that. Anyway, what did you want to speak with me about?"

"Before I get to that, sir; pardon me, but are you drunk?"

"I wish." Long Shot sighed. "Nocturni such as myself are blessed and cursed with the inability to become inebriated. Blessed because we can never lose our edge in battle no matter how much we drink, but cursed because no matter how much we drink, we can never rid our minds of the horrors we have witnessed."

"I see." Clockwork was unsure of what else to say.

"Anyway!" Long Shot exclaimed. "Enough musings for tonight. What did you want to discuss? We've got plenty of time."

Clockwork sighed before launching into his multitude of fears and concerns, ranging from the high risk of invasion and the surprisingly relaxed citizens within, to the clear view any decently trained sniper would have on his family’s abode and everything in between. Clockwork rarely paused for breath, and only when he had finished did Long Shot speak.

"I'm impressed at your extent of concern, and it may seem like I haven't payed attention, but I really think that you should relax, get back to your family, and get a good night's rest."

Clockwork stood up. "But sir! I-"

"I acknowledge your worries and will take them up with the appropriate personnel at the rising sun." Long Shot cut off his subordinate. "If that is all, then you have permission to be dismissed."

". . . Understood, Commander. Thank you." Clockwork turned to leave, but didn't get very far before an unexpected question stopped him in his tracks.

"You know, I haven’t told you much about myself, have I?”

“No, Sir.”

“We’ve been a team for a while. I figured it would be appropriate to tell you while we have some time off. Care to listen?”

Clockwork thought over the odd request for a moment. Unsure of how to respond appropriately, he simply took his seat once again.

"I think it'd be best to start at my beginning, eh?"

Clockwork nodded. "Every story should."

"Too true." Long Shot nodded before signalling a nearby waiter to refill his drink, but didn't take a sip after that. "I was born around twenty years before Discord showed up. Good parents, I'd say they raised me damned well."

Clockwork nodded, remembering only now that his squad leader was, by technicality, over a millenia in age.

"A thousand years ago was a very different time. Canterlot wasn't actually built yet, and a majority of civilization was centered around what would become the Everfree. Overall, it was a wonderful time to be alive."

Clockwork got the sense that he would be here for some time.

Long Shot's tone suddenly grew dark. "Unfortunately, every reneighssance painting has a little blood in it. When I was young, I broke down in a serious coughing fit, a lot of blood, too. I was diagnosed with Rege Mortuo."

Clockwork tilted his head to one side. "I'm unfamiliar with Rege Mortuo, sir."

Long Shot chuckled under his breath. "Well of course you are, it's a dead language. From what I know, only the Red Order still actively uses it. Rege Mortuo roughly translates to 'Dead Lung'." He took a long swig of his drink, relishing in the aged taste. "I was given thirty years to live, max. Each year, my lung capacity would diminish until I would flat out die from an inability to breath."

Clockwork was mortified to say the least. If he absolutely had to pick a way to die, he would much prefer a fast demise to a slow one. "But sir, you're still here."

Long Shot nodded dismissively, his eyes focusing on something off in the distance. "I'll get to that in a little bit. After my diagnosis, I ended up developing an extreme fear of death to the point that I was willing to let every doctor I could find try whatever they could to cure me. When I learned that the trait was genetically recessive and thereby uncurable, I became a hedonistic slob to the point that all I cared about was the taste of the next shot glass."

Clockwork felt unsure of whether or not this story was actually true. He had never taken the commander for an excessive hedonist.

Long Shot began to reach for his drink, but thought against it and instead consumed a large glass of water next to it. "If it weren't for a certain god of chaos, I wouldn't be here today."

Clockwork thought he heard that last bit wrong. "How on Celestia's green earth did Discord help you?"

"Indirectly. I was in some small town or another when the first of his creations attacked, just a blatant display of power really. Guns weren't around just yet, so I held my own with a shitty bow, a few arrows, and actually ended up saving a few lives."

"You have my belated congratulations, commander."

"Heh, thanks. Anyway, I had this epiphany that, if I was going to die anyway, I may as well make what's left of my life useful. So, I ended up heading for the nearest military outpost,signed up on the spot, and they made me a marksman. It's a good thing I did, since our military wasn't even remotely ready for a god’s invasion. One battle led to the next and my breathing got worse and worse as time went on. Discord actually succeeded in ousting the princesses from the capital, our last major stronghold in a long line of defensive actions, and flooded the area with his own version of Timberwolves.”

“Sir.” Clockwork interjected. “I believe the entire squad knows this part.”

Long Shot nodded, but continued. “Yeah. Our last scientists brewed up Tearcloud, a primordial form of Battlefright, and used all of it it in a desperate attempt to gain the elbow room needed for a single push against Dissy. My dad died in the assault."

Both warriors shivered at the mention of the dreaded gas.

"After that shitstorm, the best warriors Equestria had left were to escort the royal sisters to take him out. We were basically meat shields, but I sure as Tartarus didn't object when I was assigned to guard Luna. I think it's kind of apparent that they succeeded."

"That still doesn't explain how you became a nocturni."

"One of the first nocturni, actually." Long Shot corrected his subordinate. “Since Equestria was nearly lost in a matter of days, Luna suggested that she acquire a Royal Guard of her own. They would act as special forces soldiers, tasked with completing military operations impossible through normal means. Celestia granted her request, and the soldiers that escorted Luna specifically were given the chance to join the L.R.G. The worst thing though, was that I originally joined so that I wouldn’t die. Can you really believe that? Me, one of the first ponies to be converted, chose to do so out of fear.” the commander seemed like he would break down for a moment, but he suddenly regained his composure. “Anyway, the L.R.G. was formed, we acclimatized to our new role, and then wouldn’t ya know it, Luna went insane.”

Clockwork knew the next part of this story all too well. Everypony did.

"The L.R.G. willingly turned on Nightmare Moon, ‘cause since she wasn’t really Luna during that whole fiasco, we weren’t bound to protect her. It was actually thanks to us that Celestia had any chance of a shot at her."

Okay, Clockwork admittedly didn't know that part of the story, or what followed immediately after.

"With Luna banished, the nocturni had no purpose, and we almost fell apart, but then a certain somepony contacted us, telling us to head for Tramplevania and wait."

"Tramplevania, sir?"

"A sort of semi-capital for our race. She used the last of her own power to telepathically contact us, explaining that we were to head to Tramplevania and wait. We followed our master's last command and, when everyone had arrived and been accounted for, the princess stuck us all in a millennia-long hibernation, promising that we'd awaken when she returned."

Clockwork laughed. "Must've been one hell of a culture shock."

Long Shot shrugged. "Kinda. Some of us were surprised at how much our world had changed in a single millennia. Most of us just wanted to find Luna again and get back to work."

"You guys don't screw around."

"If that wasn't already apparent enough. After I got used to rifles, I formed Meteor. Some shit happened, and now I'm here finally telling you my life story."

"I'd say Meteor Squad's operations amount to a little more than just 'some shit'."

Long Shot raised an eyebrow. "Only a little?"

Clockwork shrugged. "The modern squad's only been involved in a few major military operations."

"True. That’s enough about me, though. What's your story?"

Before Clockwork could begin his own life's tale, an indescribably loud explosion rocketed through every fiber of his being and then some. A few moments of eerie silence followed, and in those long seconds, the two soldiers' eyes met and expressed their equally large amounts of dread.

Oh. . . shit.

The commander leapt from his seat and readied his long rifle. After chambering a round, his pegasus ally readied his pistol to fire. Concentrating for a brief moment, the nocturni activated a teleportation spell. In an instant, the duo were atop the city's wall, weapons at the ready.

However, their eyes and minds could never be adequately prepared for the sight they beheld.

Stalliongrad was under siege.