Pizza, Footfall and I were just outside the Marecago clock tower, Spectacles was speeding off with the Pelican and the rest of Crimson. Pizza and I were equipped for CQC: Shotguns and twin SMG secondaries. We both had Active Camouflage, AA Efficiency and Ammo armor tuning.

We peeked around the corner of the bank I once robbed. Two guards were outside, but the door was ajar. I could see shapes moving back and forth inside. “Every second counts,” I told Footfall and Pizza, “Let's make this quick. Remember: do not fire unless if fired upon; these are Equestrians here.”

“Copy that,” Pizza said, Footfall nodding in sync.

I needed a plan of attack. I could try and cloak to bypass the guards, leaving Footfall on perimeter detail. Only problem with that is that we can't stay cloaked forever, and we'd be surrounded. Alternatively, we could just climb up the façade of the clock tower and assault from the top down. Again, we'd be effectively surrounded, but at least we'd have the high ground.

“Joe, can I take point on this one?” Footfall asked.

“If you think you can handle it, go right ahead. Fill us in on your plan of attack,” I said.

“I think that we should handle it almost like a raid. If we can't fire until they shoot at us, then we'll just convince them to shoot first. Joe, since you've got the armor, I think you should march right up in front of them and belt out some insults to Al Capony. They should then engage you, and we'll back you up when they do. That sound good?”

“Sounds pretty good to me. Pizza, as soon as you see them draw, open fire. Stay close to me, but remain cloaked.”

Pizza nodded and I stood up. I worked the pump on my shotgun, watching an 8 gauge magnum round slide into the chamber. I had it loaded with standard buckshot, which should be devastating to Capony's thugs. I walked out from around the corner, staring the guards eye-to-eye.

“Capony is a sack of shit that's a disgrace to all other sacks of shit. A celebratory holiday will be the day he dies, either that or the day he bathes,” I said.

“You watch what you say about Capony, bad things happen to those who speak ill of 'im,” the first guard sounded, and looked, like he had a mouth full of chewing tobacco.

“Oh, I have chosen my words carefully, you pathetic excuse of a pony. I know for a fact that if Al Capony was half the man you claim he is, he'd come down here and talk to me face to face. Right now it looks like he's too yellow-bellied to put on his big-boy pants and be a man. There is no honor hiding behind a security detail, and it shows well on Capony.”

Guard #2 seemed to take great offense to this, “And why should he be wasting his time with the likes of you? You don't look like much and smell like even less.”

“You tell Capony I have his son. See if he'll come down and talk to me then.”

“Bullshit you do. Now leave, or else things will have to get messy.”

“I ain't going nowhere...”

We locked gazes, not even flinching. Guard #2 was statuesque, as was I. Guard #1 not so much. He raised a pistol, only for Pizza to plant a knife in his throat, decloaking in the process. Guard #2 tried to raise his pistol, but my shotgun took his head clean off. I could hear more guards shuffling about inside the tower.

“Secure the area,” I radioed to the team. I took my position at the front door, opposite Pizza. I could hear some weapons having their actions worked. I lifted a frag grenade, motioning for Pizza to do the same. Footfall was nowhere to be seen, probably getting ready to hunt down any escapees.

One thug came rushing out, Pizza clotheslined him, crushing the guard's larynx. I tossed my frag inside the building. Pizza quickly dispatched the choking thug with a curb-stomp, then tossed his frag inside. When the second explosion sounded, we cloaked and moved in. I swapped over to my pair of SMGs. The thugs had defensive positions already set up, and we needed to get past them.

There was still some dust settling from the grenades, providing us a good smoke screen. We maneuvered around behind the the enemy positions, engaging them with our SMGs and knives. They didn't put up much of a fight. By the time the camo ran out, the room was cleared. We hung around for a bit letting our camo recharge. So much for minimizing body count.

I looked around, not having found Capony anywhere on the first floor. I spotted some stairs going upward. “Onward and upward, Pizza,” I tagged the staircase with an objective marker. We made our way topside.

The second floor was also an ambush, just this time with hostile fortifications in more of a crescent shape, focused on the stairs Pizza and I had taken. We cloaked and snuck behind them easily enough. Our SMGs turned them to chum. By the time they realized what was happening, we had already cut most of them down. Only one got away.

“I thought you had that one, Joe.”

“Pizza, he was clearly on your side of the room. Besides, any kill is a fair kill. He's probably warning Capony about us. We might have to rethink our attack plan.”

“Joe, I don't think pulling another Stalliongrad is a good idea. The building could collapse on any number of civvies.”

“What about the floor, then?”

We both looked up, seeing several red dots moving around on our motion sensor. “Well, it is just timber...” We unloaded 5mm caseless rounds into the ceiling above us. Eventually blasting a sufficiently sized hole for one of us to slip through.

“Pizza, you're going up. I'll take the scenic route,” I lifted Pizza onto the third floor, then raced up the stairs after the guard that fled moments before. Judging from the sounds and screams, Pizza had to swap out for his shotgun. When I made it up, there was five corpses surrounding the Spartan.

“No worries,” he said, clenching his knife in his left hand and shotgun in the right, “My armor cleans up rather well. Capony made it up to the fourth floor. If there are any hostiles left, they'll be with him now.”

“Let's grab this fuck and get back to the rest of Crimson.” With a flick of the wrist, I ejected the spent mags of my SMGs. I loaded a pair of fresh mags before I placed them on the back magnetic holster. I grabbed my shotgun, then nodded to Pizza.

He walked up to the stairs, myself following closely behind. We had our guns at the ready. Pizza's head peeked over the top of the stairs. Then I saw him relax. “What's going on?” I whispered to him.

“Area clear.”

“What?” I moved up to the top of the stairs, both of us entering the top floor. I looked around. Motion sensor gave an all clear. Knowing it could be fooled with lack of motion, I decided to try something different.

I threw my voice into the ultra-falsetto I discovered I had back in Stalliongrad, letting out a high-pitch chirp. Pizza didn't notice it, confirming my suspicions that the sound is beyond normal hearing. That chirp turned the room into a map for me. I could see... well, feel... where the sound waves ricocheted throughout the room. I could even see the earth pony sitting atop the clockwork above us.

I was raising my shotgun when I noticed something else... “Contacts, left and right!” I called out, motioning Pizza to fall back. I had counted at least twenty. Gunfire ripped overhead as my motion sensor came to life. We were back at the stairs, Pizza doing what work he could with his shotgun.

“Goddamn featherbrains, trying to ambush Spartans!” he yelled at the ambushing pegasi.

He stood up and ran out from cover. “Pizza, fallback! We'll whittle away at their defenses then push,” I radioed to him.

“No, sir. I have eyes on Al Capony and am going for the grab. Keep me covered.”

I hate when he gets like this. I charged out of cover, backing him up as best I could. Pegasi were flying all about the room, their harassing fire knocking out my shields bit by bit. Whenever I tried to target one, he would fly behind some of the clock mechanisms. My shield eventually gave out under their combined fire.

When I looked up, I saw that Pizza had climbed atop the same clockwork I saw (or rather felt) a pony sitting on earlier. He was holding up an old shield of sorts, deflecting Pizza's 8 gauge assault. When Pizza's shotgun ran dry, he charged the pony.

That pony (presumably Al Capony) turned tail and ran faster than I've ever seen a pony run before. He drew a sidearm and shot at the back of the clock tower's face. The glass burst outward as the pony made a leap of faith. Pizza followed without hesitation.

My shotgun fell silent as the last hostile pegasus breathed their last. My armor's plates were dinged up pretty badly, but nothing penetrated the gel layer. I scrambled atop the clockwork and up to the face of the clock. I stared out at the town, then looked down at the glass shards below. Pizza and that pony were gone. I looked around for his IFF tag.

I saw his tag floating through the city. “Pizza, SitRep,” I radioed.

“Engaging hostile griffin, can use some help.”

“En route.”

What were griffins doing aiding Capony? I filed that away in my noggin before I loaded some slugs into my shotgun. I went prone in the broken glass that didn't fall outside during the scuffle. I aimed my shotgun out the hole, tracking Pizza's tag. It finally surfaced above some buildings.

The griffin was in black combat armor with a white emblem on it. The pony was in the griffin's grasp. Pizza was dangling off of one of the griffin's hind paws, knife in his right hand. I tried taking aim at the griffin. I mentally ran through the ballistics in my head, aiming for the griffin's center of mass.

I added in the target lead, then I waited for a clear shot. BOOM! I saw the griffin twitch then fall out of the sky. I needed to get to the crash site and make sure Pizza was okay.

I found Pizza standing over the griffin, the pony (who was indeed Al Capony) was tied up on the side. Capony wasn't talking. The Marecago Police had already labeled this area a crime scene and were setting up the yellow tape. Got to hand it to them, their response time was fast.

Al Capony had a broken leg from the fall, the griffin a broken neck. I walked over to the dead bird's corpse. I looked at the combat armor. The white emblem was that of a griffin's claw. I checked the ballistic plate. It was completely shattered from the slug, but it had caught the round. Impressive body armor, I'd say. Too bad it couldn't stop internal damage.

I searched through the body, trying to figure out who this was or who sent him. Griffin's aren't too common in Equestria, judging by past experiences. This was the first one I'd encountered. In one of the mag pouches I found a note.

Talon Company Contract #10352
Pay (total): 5000 Bits (50% as down payment)
This contract is to be held in the protection of Al Capony and the interdiction of any known, immediate threats to the aforementioned individual, party, or parties for the duration of one month of honorable service.
The execution of this contact is the responsibility of Grox, a Talon mercenary with expertise spanning 14 years within Talon Company. Any failure of this contract by the fault of the assigned mercenary(s). The company thereafter shall render the contact to be refunded in full.
We thank you for your business.
Grimshaw,
Commandant of Talon

Apparently Al Capony had enlisted some foreign aid in his defense. This “Talon Company” is something I need to look into. If mercs have contracts up for the highest bidder to take, best to make sure the Zebras don't hear about it. I didn't find anything else on the griffin aside from some doohickeys that resembled D batteries, just with a positive and negative lead on the same end, like a 9 volt. I found them in his ammo pouches, curiously enough.

“Footfall, come over to our position. Spectacles, we are ready for evac, the HVI is secured,” I radioed. I walked over to Pizza, “What do you think these things are?” I held up the battery things.

“No idea, but it looks like it belongs on this,” he held up a strange, long, box-like contraption, “the griffin had it.” It had a perforated strut connecting at a shallow angle to the rest of the device. I saw one of the batteries mounted onto the side at an angle. Next to it I saw the label, “Flash Industries AER-1 Prototype”, followed by a very low serial number.

“AER-1? What do you think that stands for?” I asked.

“Anemic Enraged Rottweiler?”

Seeing as I found the same battery things in the griffin's ammo pouches, I had one good guess. “Advance Energy Rifle, perhaps? Seems to fit. Can I see it?” He handed over the device. It had some heft to it, more so than most UNSC weapons, but less than Covenant ones. Once it was in my grasp, I noticed a small slide directly under the battery. I pulled it back, and the battery ejected out like a spent shell. I checked my HUD for additional intel, and it merely said “Foreign Hardware Detected”. Not much help there...

I noticed the slide had also locked back. I pulled out a new battery and slotted it in. The slide promptly went forward again, this time followed by a quiet, high-pitched whine. “Pizza, I think we should take this back to Spectacles. He should know more about this than us.”

“Agreed, and speaking of which...” He pointed towards the horizon. The Pelican was coming in over the water. Footfall had rejoined us as well, my motion sensor being the only hint he was among us.

“Footfall, you feel like going to another battle? Canterlot is en route, it won't be much of a delay to drop you off,” I said.

“I think I'd like to stay with you. I hardly saw any action here.”

“Fair enough, climb aboard.”

When Spectacles arrived, we clambered aboard. Pizza and I started changing our loadouts.

ARs, Silenced SMGs, Promethean Grenades, and Jet Packs. Things were going to be awesome. I racked the slide on my AR as the Pelican descended. Footfall had a battle saddle with twin Equestrian ARs mounted to it. Spectacles had the box-like AER-1. We were approaching Neighagra.

“Spectacles, take Footfall to friendlier lines. This is our stop here. Footfall, see what our forces need and get it to them,” I said as the back hatch opened, revealing the river-bound city below. Zebra forces were everywhere, and it looked like more than a few were in the skies with weird bat-like wings. Guess there always has to be a game-changer.

The Wonderbolts were contesting these hostile skies, and it looked like we would be joining them. “Pizza, let's mow down those Zebras!”

“Aye, sir!”

We jumped out of the back hatch, dropping down the hundred feet into the city streets, igniting our Jet Packs just before touchdown. The Pelican raced off to the southwest, towards Cloudsdale. “COL Lockheart, are you on this channel?”

“I'm listening, Joe.”

“We are in the city, but we need to know where you need us. Care to point us the right way?”

“We've got hostiles on the city's bridges. If we lose those, we won't be able to get our ground forces across.”

“Ground forces? I thought it was just pegasi here.”

“We had a platoon of Zebras defect, they're fighting for us now. Call themselves 'Proditors', whatever that means... They're marked with red stripes instead of black. We also called the local EHG soldiers for backup, they’re en route.”

“Alright, Colonel, we'll move in on those bridges. Spectacles, care to fly over and mark our objectives?”

“On it, Joe. Just dropped off Footfall.”

The Pelican passed overhead, then three 'Defend' objective markers appeared on my HUD. Pizza nodded, confirming the same. We headed through the streets, our motion sensors alive with red and yellow dots (mostly above us). The tallest building here was two stories high. I activated my Jet Pack, Pizza following me onto the rooftops.

“Joe, they've got a lot of AA fire, I've got to pull out!” Spectacles radioed.

“Copy that, Spectacles. Mark those guns, we'll silence them.”

More targets, marked 'Neutralize', appeared on our HUDs.

In the skies the Wonderbolts and several EAF fighters were engaging these wing-augmented Zebras. I saw the black puffs of AA fire in the air. The Zebras occasionally tried to strafe us, but we returned their fire, the Wonderbolts hot on the Zebras' tails.

We crossed a few blocks before we found a street leading up to our first bridge. The group of defectors was trying to fight across to the other side, but the Zebras had heavy guns dug in. They weren't giving an inch, but the defectors weren't letting them gain any more ground.

“Pizza, toss your grenades into the MG nests. Then, advance onto the next bridge. I'll work with the defectors here. Lockheart, send a group of pegasi Pizza's way.”

“Forces en route, Joe.”

Pizza threw his Promethean Grenades over the bridge, one falling short, the other being spot-on. The Zebras scattered out of the ionization field before much damage could be done. The defectors retired them before they could get back to cover. Pizza lit up his Jet Pack and progressed further across the city to the northeast. That left me with the defectors.

I got behind a low masonry wall next to three of the Proditors. The operable MG nest was spitting hot lead overhead. Apparently they didn't know to chip away at the masonry to make a hole. “Who's in charge here?” I yelled at one of the defectors.

“That would be me, warrior,” the one directly in front of me said. Guess I knew where the officer's cover was.

“Does anyone here have smoke grenades?”

“No, warrior.”

“Shit... then get behind me and stay close.” My AR still read 32 rounds loaded. I tossed a grenade over the masonry guard rail. Then I charged outward, AR level. The MG tore into my armor, my shields flaring brightly. I fired every round I had in short, controlled bursts. The defectors joined in, making short work of the gunner. Silent went MG number 2.

I swapped weapons and jumped over the MG nest's sandbags, the defectors racing to catch up with me. There was still a couple Zebras in the nest, trying to get the MG back online. I fired the whisper-quiet 5mm rounds into one of the Zebras, the other tried for a vicious right hook.

I ducked under the blow. Spinning, I then tried for a mule kick against the Zebra. Unfortunately, the Zebra tried the same, and our attacks struck one another, doing nil. I continued my rotation, but then the Zebra adjusted his forehooves and kicked with his opposite leg, disarming me. I grabbed the Zebra's leg before he could retract it, and pulled hard.

The Zebra sprawled across the ground, then he spun around, nailing the side of my head with his other hind hoof. I rolled with the attack to minimize damage, drawing my knife as he slipped from my grasp. He lunged at me before I could bring it to bear. I brought up my left forearm to negate his strikes, but his lunge brought me to the ground.

I rolled backwards, kicking him over me. He stuck the landing, and I continued through the roll onto my feet. I turned around and stared him down, knife in my right hand. I charged at him this time, and he sidestepped, planting his forehooves just as he did for the mule kick. I activated my Jet Pack, carrying me skywards, outside his striking range. Then, I threw the knife at him.

Remember when I mentioned how a Zebra's physique is more comparable to a Spartan's than a pony's? Well, this Zebra was no exception. He caught my knife as it spun through the air, gripping it firmly in his jaw. I noticed the defectors had formed a circle around us.

I dropped back down onto the battlefield, and held up both fists in a boxing stance. He seemed to be looking me over, probably trying find an exploit to my pose. I didn't give him the chance, charging at him again. He let me try for a grapple before he jumped to the side.

He tried to bring the knife down on me, but I redirected his attack past me with my left hand. With my right, I formed a two-finger spike and drove it into his neck, roughly at where the spinal cord would be. I watched his legs give out underneath him. I yanked my knife free from his grip, then withdrew my fingers from his flesh.

I looked at the downed Zebra for a moment, then I crushed his skull beneath my contoured boot. He wouldn't be fighting again. I looked around at the defectors around me. Some bore impressions of awe, others seemed impressed by my work.

“Why the hell didn't you help out?” I asked the group, making sure to retrieve and reload my weapons in the meantime.

“We had no right. You fought him and bested him in the ring of honor. Hoof-to-hoof combat is very much a ritual to prove one's authority amongst the Zebras. You have done well, fellow warrior. We will follow your command, unquestioningly,” the lead defector said.

“Okay, then. Since we're on the Zebra side of the river, let's push northeast and see if we can flank them at Pizza's locale,” I racked the slide of my AR, chambering a new round, then march in the indicated direction. The defectors formed up behind me.

It was several more blocks of target-rich environment before we found the next bridge, the Zebra warriors eating up a lot of my ammo. I only had about a mag and a half left for each gun (50 rounds AR, 90 rounds SMG). The defectors, on the other hand, proved their worth in the fighting (especially the CQC) all the way along the road. I noticed a 'Neutralize' target was just a couple blocks from this bridge. Pizza's IFF tag was behind cover on the far side.

He popped his head up, fired a couple bursts, then ducked down when his shields got low. I didn't see any pegasi in the nearby skies. The only Pegasi I saw were slumped over on the ground... in pieces. That AA gun must be the problem, but the bridge is the priority target.

“Pizza, keep up the pressure,” I radioed.

“What do you think I've been doing? Jerking off?” Pizza responded. Typical Pizza.

The Zebras had dug in at this bridge just like at mine. I slung my AR across my back and readied my knife. I crept up to a row of sandbags. I looked over to the defector commander and motioned his platoon to move up to the other gun. Pizza's fire was passing right overhead. I waited for the gunner to start a burst before I made my move. Assassination! That gunner's first and last warning was my knife plunging into his throat.

As his blood trickled down onto his now-silent gun, I saw the defectors emerge from the other nest. “Pizza, what happened to the forces sent your way?”

“Triple A took them right outta the sky. I don't think any of them survived.”

“Proditors, on me. Pizza, we're taking that triple A offline.”

“Copy that, Joe.” We advanced further down the street, heading northwest. “Hey, Joe, you got a mag?”

“Only half and the one loaded,” I handed him my last AR mag, it's eighteen rounds being all-too light.

“Then that makes two between us,” he grabbed it and loaded the rounds into his current mag, then slammed it home into the receiver.

“We're gonna need a resupply soon,” I said.

“Too bad we don't have Dalton.”

“Well said.” We could hear the sounds of the AA gun just around the corner. We stacked up against the corner shop, waiting to charge. “Lockheart, the two southwestern-most bridges have been secured. Be advised: hostile AA is in close proximity to bridge number two. We're gonna make a push for it.”

“Understood, Joe. Our forces are proceeding on hoof through the rest of the city. The Wonderbolts are still contesting the skies, keeping the airborne Zebras out of our manes.”

I peeked around the corner, seeing a crew of six manning the gun. There were two gunners, one had the elevation and traverse controls under his command. The other held a lanyard to fire the artillery. They had two ferrying ammo to two more who were loading it into the gun's two magazines. It looked like a dual mount.

I tightened my grip on my AR. I held up three fingers for the team to see. Then I dropped one. Then another. When I hit zero, I charged around the corner, firing on the gunners, Pizza doing the same. The defectors engaged the rest of the crew. It was over in all of five seconds. The defectors began fiddling with the ammo cache the Zebras had.

“What are you doing?” I asked their leader.

“Destroying this gun, before it can harm any more of your pegasi.”

“Hold off on that for a second, soldier, I think I have an idea... Joe to Lockheart, get all pegasi dirtside now.”

“The order's out, but those airborne Zebra's aren't gonna make it any easier on us, don't you think?”

“I've got it handled, Lockheart. Defectors: you're on ammo detail. Pizza, grab that lanyard; you're gonna be firing this thing. I'll deal with the aiming part.”

I sat down in the gunner's seat. The controls were rather simple: the horizontal wheel controls the horizontal aim, the vertical wheel controls the vertical aim. Each wheel had a handle jutting out of it for easier use with hooves, which made it very easy for use with hands. I peered into the gunsight and started looking for targets.

“Hostile spotted, 600 feet. Load rounds,” good thing Mjolnir's binoculars have a built-in rangefinder. I heard the defectors click the delay fuses into the correct position before handing it over to be loaded. I tracked the target as best I could. As soon as the rounds dropped in, I ordered Pizza to fire.

The black puff consumed the Zebra, who promptly fell from the sky, in multiple pieces.

We had remained there for some time, until we only had a few shells left. We rigged those to destroy the gun. Most of the aerial Zebras had been shot down, and when the Wonderbolts took to the skies again, they were rapidly gaining aerial dominance. We just had to take the last bridge, but something told me the Zebras knew we had commandeered their toy.

I only had a dozen rounds left in my AR. My SMG was doing better ammo-wise, but it's 5mm rounds were lightweights compared to the ARs ammunition. For some reason, none of these Zebras seemed to be armed, aside from the defectors (who had commandeered Equestrian rifles).

We had abandoned the gun and advanced further along the road heading northeast. The Wonderbolts weren't seeing anything from above, so I expected more indoors fighting up ahead.

By the time we got to the last bridge, all was quiet. Lockheart was there, and more than a few of the pegasi were greeting the defectors with vulgarities and hostilities. Spitfire had to come in to calm them down. I was surprised to see her again.

“Long time no see, huh, Spitfire?”

She seemed at a loss for words to see me again.

“I don't think I introduced myself last time we met. I'm Lieutenant Joe of the UNSC, serving alongside Equestrian forces as an acting Captain in the Navy. This here is Pizza, he's like a brother to me. We've been serving together for some time now.”

“Joe... When I heard a Special Forces outfit would be coming to help, I didn't expect it to be you.”

“And that's why it is me: entirely unexpected. Now, make sure your Wonderbolts don't shoot up the defectors, they've proven themselves in combat. I trust them to a degree, and we are on the same side here. It isn't like with those pirates before.”

“Yeah, some of the boys are still sore at you for what you did back there, and now you come marching up with a platoon of the enemy... I wouldn't be surprised if you got fratted here.”

“The defectors are no enemy, and neither am I. If you have men who have something against me, then get them out here, front and center now.”

“Can't we wait until the battle is over?”

“Depends on how sore they are...”

“It can wait.”

“Alright, then. Proditors, what happened to the Zebra presence in the city? We didn't encounter any en route to this last bridge, and the other AA guns have fallen silent.”

“The only way they would abandon a fight would be if they were ordered to,” the defector commander said.

“Ordered to, by who?”

“In all likelihood, Centurion Pravus. Either him or the Legate.”

Spitfire seemed a bit intrigued, “A Centurion? Here?”

“Yes, we did defect from his command prior to your liberation of the Unicorn Range.”

I spoke up, “Then who's the Legate? This is the first I've heard of him.”

“You speak of Legate Fortis. The Fist of Caesar. He is a menace not to be trifled with. He would sooner kill a full legion of his own men than allow Equestrian forces into any Zebra city, no matter how small.”

“So I take it he wouldn't order a retreat?”

“That is correct.”

“Alright, Spitfire, it seems we've had a Centurion in our AO. I'd suggest your forces stay put here as I rendezvous with the rest of Crimson out west. Once Trottingham is ours again, we can send for reinforcements. Spectacles, can you give us recon of this city?”

“Inbound, Joe, sit tight.”

“Now, about those men of yours...”

“About that... it was mostly myself and Soarin holding that grudge. We lost a lot of good friends back there, all by your hands.”

I let out a low sigh, “I know what it's like to lose friends in war. This great individual who has a precious place in your heart gets ripped from it, leaving a gaping hole that can never truly heal. It leaves scars behind. But that pain of loss... it means they mattered to you, that you loved them. And it will never go away.”

Pizza stepped in, “We truly did not know any better than to act when you swooped in from above. They died believing that their sacrifice would save those hostages... and those hostages were saved. After that fight, Joe and I sought more knowledge about Equestria, and have since been fighting for it. If it wasn't for their sacrifice, we probably wouldn't be fighting here, or even back at Stalliongrad. Their sacrifice was not in vain, Spitfire. Not many can so willingly pay such a high price.”

I finished, “If more people were willing to give as much, the world wouldn't be in a state of war right now. I do regret my course of action back there, I didn't know better, and many died because of my negligence. I take full blame for their deaths, and I'll carry their loss with the intent to find some way to redeem them.”

Spitfire looked crestfallen, and I felt the same way. Good thing my visor was polarized. “You don't even know their names...”

“I don't need to. A name doesn't say much about a person. Their actions speak volumes. I know that they were great men, some of the best. That impression will last longer than the name. History is funny like that.”

Spectacles interrupted, “Joe, it looks like the city is clear of all hostiles. I'm coming in to pick you up.”

“Looks like our ride is here, Spitfire. See you in Hell,” I gave her a casual salute as I turned and walked into the middle of the bridge. The Pelican dropped down and Crimson climbed aboard. I waved the defectors to join us. “Take us to Canterlot, Spectacles, we need to introduce the princesses to our new friends.”

The ride over gave me time to think. A lot was going on right now in the war. Crimson is still leading a five-front counter-assault, with notable success. The Wonderbolts had linked up with the Crimson team in the Unicorn Range, secured the area and pressed onward, securing Neighagra. The only problem was a Centurion was there, Pravus, according to the defector Proditors.

Now why would a Centurion retreat from the battle? Was he avoiding his forces getting wiped? Or did he accomplish his objective? The Zebra's I fought there were easy enough to defeat, not on par with the crew of the Caesar that sank the HMS Harmony. I doubt they were a main force. The Centurion lead a notable force, indicating he (if he is a he) paralleled the rank of Colonel or a Navy Captain, similar to the (presumed) captain of the Caesar.

Now that begs the question, why the retreat? He had superior forces, he had a solid foothold. So why pull out when half the city was contested and the other half under his control? The only thing that came to mind was that the city was not the objective, and that they had already finished their mission, much like us. But what was their mission?

If Equestria had intelligence assets embedded within the Zebra ranks, it'd solve a lot of this questioning that's plaguing my mind. Additionally, a whole platoon of the Centurion's forces had defected on the battlefield, and completely changed their attire to distinguish themselves moments before... These defectors might have some valuable things to tell Equestria, or they could be trying to plant false intelligence or utilize reverse interrogation against us. Are they the Centurion's mission?

Possibly, but the defectors did aid in eliminating that AA gun, with deadly accuracy too. The best course of action would be to not trust the defectors for operational intel, but on the battlefield their knowledge may come in handy. Keep them away from our playbook, but keep an ear open for their wordings.

Another matter was the Wonderbolts. Crimson's first engagement was an island with Zebra pirates holding Equestrian citizens hostage. We were sent to rescue the hostages, largely because we, at the time, couldn't be linked back to Equestria. But then again, that is also why the Wonderbolts went there too; they would either have an alibi that checked out or be listed AWOL (or rogue). Regardless, two solutions were sent out on a problem that only needed one. We killed each other because of it.

Neither of us knew the other was there to help, and assumed one another hostile. In the end, it turns out we were both trying to rescue hostages. But why did they shoot first? The element of surprise? Xenophobia (we were a huge unknown at the time, after all)? They rushed their attack. They killed a hostage while trying to kill us. But were they in the wrong? No, I'd say. Given what they knew, they acted towards the greatest peace possible. Their only fault was they didn't know enough.

So how does that compare to the Centurion? I only know he retreated from the city and had a platoon defect. The Wonderbolts only knew that we were unknowns at a known pirate base, and had the civilians with us. I really can't say that the Centurion is innately evil, nor can I claim him good. Pravus... his name shares a root with depravity... Can't be good, but names are deceiving. Joe means “average” nine times out of ten. Guess I must be the tenth, given me being a Spartan and all.

Thinking on a scale way above my pay grade, how does this level with the grand scheme of things? Centurion to Zebra... Crimson to Equestria... or would the Zebras be better represented by the Wonderbolts at the island? If so, we are both fighting towards a better end, but are killing a powerful ally over it. We really need Zebra intelligence assets, if that is the case. This whole war might turn out to be a great big misunderstanding. Come to think of it, many wars are... Guess you can't win them all.

Canterlot was approaching on the horizon, and these defectors would need to be debriefed by Equestrian command, although it seems the command they acknowledge is mine. CQC also has some form of deep cultural significance to them. Is it a challenge of mettle? If so, mine was proven greater than that Zebra's, possibly asserting my own strength over the defectors. I guess they pride themselves on powerful leaders. One is not simply given the name “Fist of Caesar”.

The Legate would also be a powerful contender in the coming battles, I could feel it in my bones, smell it in the air... a storm was coming. A big one. I have a feeling this Legate is at the heart of it, where its destruction cannot reach. Legate Fortis, if what the defectors said of him is true, would be difficult to eliminate. Good thing I knew the Arbiter, former “Will of the Prophets”.

While I studied on Sanghelios, prior to heading to Requiem, the Arbiter taught me much about codes of honor and martial discipline... as well as how to fight it. Between the tutelage of the Arbiter, Thel 'Vadam, and the Shipmaster, Rtas 'Vadum, I learned much about warrior races and their codes of honor. From my impromptu autopsy of that Zebra infiltrator, it is within reason to assume the Zebra's to be a warrior race, and with that, a possible code of honor amongst them. I'll need to study up on Zebra culture some more after Trottingham, and cross-reference the information with the defectors.

The Pelican was coming in for landing. I'll swing by the Princesses, then grab a Mongoose and rearm at the Whitetail HQ. I nodded for Pizza to get ready. “Team, take a break and rest up while you can. It won't be long before we're headed back out into the wild country. Spectacles, make sure to examine that rifle when you get the time to. Defectors, you're with me. The same goes for you, Pizza, we've got to rearm.”

We all stood up as the Pelican set down.

The guards had panicked greatly when the defectors hopped out... guess we should've called it in, huh? Eventually, I managed to contact the Night Guard and the situation was settled without incident. The Ministry of Morale apparently had jurisdiction over any defectors. I escorted them to the shiny new hub building in Canterlot. The Ministry hubs seemed to spring up overnight.

I left the defectors with a group of MoM officers and told them to follow their orders. Gazing out to the horizon I saw that the sun only had a couple hours left before it set completely. I still needed to inform the Princesses of my insight to the situation. I looked over to the Pelican. We had apparently emptied out its weapon crates in the last couple deployments, having left most of the gear at the Whitetail HQ.

Shotguns won't be handy on the desert plains of the Marejave, but they would be great inside Trottingham. Too bad the Marejave was the only way to Trottingham by land, with sea being too dangerous a route without ample diversions. I would need a versatile weapon, like the BR for this upcoming bout.

Luna said she'd take note of the situation, and Pizza was riding on the back seat of the Mongoose. The Whitetail forest was coming into view, and I slowed down a tad to avoid crashing into everything. We were passing through the old LZ. The Whitetail LZ was washed out by the passage of time and the ensuing rainfall, but I could still discern bits of brass sticking out of the mud from when Pizza almost committed fratricide on me. Nearby would be the hatch to the Whitetail HQ.

The HQ still didn't have power, but in its current state, it was probably best to leave it off the grid. We were heading over to the armory, getting ready to grab some better urban and desert gear. What Pizza had to say hit me like a flying mallet.

“Joe... We've got a problem here.”

“What is it?”

“The Battle Rifle ammo... It's gone, or at least most of it. I don't think we loaded enough to fight a war, just enough for lots of hunting. With how much we've burned up against the Zebras and Mafia, nothing's left.”

“Dammit... The BR uses a classified propellant as well, to get the kind of velocities it has. Do we have the formula on record, so that we can reload?” I moved next to the supply crate that had our excess ammo in it.

“Negative, Joe. That stuff is still all black ink, and I couldn't get authorization to read it, being an ensign and all. Though, we might be able to reload some TTR rounds, but we'd need the bullets for the ammo.”

“Guess we'll just have to make due without. Any other munitions that we're low on?”

“Just grenades, but I think the MWT is turning out some frags on par with the M9. Plasma and Pulse grenades we'll have to be stingy with. What weapons should we bring to the Marejave? I don't think the Zebras will let us rearm between there and Trottingham.”

“While we figure that out, try this on. Lyra got us a pair of dusters,” I tossed over the duster that a certain mint-colored unicorn gave us.

Pizza donned it with ease, “Fits like a glove! I think we'd be the first duster-clad Spartans to enter a theater of war.”

“Back to the mission at hand... Urban sniping has always been fun, and the desert will make it a cakewalk at range. I'll take the SRS99-S5 AM rifle and an M7S. The Thruster Pack should help when going from rooftop to rooftop. How about you?”

“Might as well bring some more rockets, we've got plenty of those.” We planned on using the Rocket Launcher to pass the time when things got boring (as lengthy deployments always get), so we packed plenty of ammo for it... good thing, too. “I'll also grab my DMR, should get plenty of use out of it. My Hardlight Shield hasn't done me wrong thus far, either.”

“How long have you had that DMR, Pizza? I got my BR at Requiem, but as I recall, you've had your rifle for much longer.”

“Joe, I'm surprised I haven't told you it's story yet.”

“And you're going to tell me now?”

“Not now... maybe in the desert, maybe a little longer. You'd really like the story... Might even tell you the classified stuff.”

“Does this have to do with how you got off Reach?”

“Yeah, and a few other things. Helluva fight, too.”

“Any spoilers?” I grabbed a few more mags than I should ever possibly need for my M7S, leaving behind a few mags for the Sniper Rifle.

“It's why I'm a Spartan.”

“Since you're not gonna tell me your secret, here's another one for you: we recruited a Zebra spy.”

“What?”

“Those infiltrators that ambushed us outside the HQ? They mentioned the codename 'Chuck Finley', the name we gave that CPD leak. Now I'm thinking it wasn't even CPD to begin with, but possibly EAF or some other branch. Bottom line is: there's a spy in our fireteam and I don't know who it is. Once we wrap up the goings on in the Marejave and Trottingham, I think we should confront the princesses about this. Do not tell another soul until then, Pizza.”

“I didn't expect a spook would catch our eye is all.”

“They did more than just that, Pizza. They were recruited from Luna's list, remember? Whoever it is, they are embedded deep in Equestria's government and military. We're going to have to have them tip their hand and then pounce on them. I think the Night Guard will be a valuable asset here. Just keep an eye open for suspicious activity, and try to monitor any comms you can.”

“Maybe after we catch the spook, I'll tell you my story.”

Rewind half a decade to the end of the Human-Covenant War, and from the ashes of the battle, the UNSC started up something known as the “Heroes Never Die” campaign. It was launched to keep morale high and recruitment up... And it worked, maybe a little bit too well.

Eventually, the top brass decided to launch something called the “Living Monument”, which was plastered all over the galaxy as something tremendous. As time progressed, it turns out the Living Monument was the Spartan-IV program, and everyone and their dog hurriedly signed up for it... myself included (even if it took some urging from Jun).

Some 5 million people signed up for the program... too much for the UNSC to fund, so they did what was unimaginable: turn down the recruits. After 27 years of war, turning down a recruit seemed impossible. You enlisted, you got a rifle and armor. But this was not a war; we had already won that conflict. This next batch for the Monument would have to be the best.

And so they looked for the best. That's around when Jun, a former Spartan who participated in the Battle of Reach, talked me into joining the program. The UNSC needed more than just recruits... they were looking for heroes. Although not all of us were in the spotlight, we all did monumental things in selfless acts. Mine was at Arcadia. Apparently, Pizza's was at Reach.

Eventually, that 5 million was whittled down to just five hundred, myself and Pizza included. We were then assigned to Fireteam Crimson after the christening of the UNSC Infinity. The Infinity would pursue the threat of the Halos, but some Spartan teams would be given more specialized tasks. Fireteam Crimson was one of many such teams. Our next stop was Sanghelios, where we learned all we could of the Elites and their culture, to help us in tracking down Covenant Remnant forces.

During that time, Pizza kept on talking to a few of the other Spartans, and even a couple Elites, about Reach. Whenever I asked him, he told me it was classified and that I'd have to clear it with Lord Hood to hear any of it. He said he could talk about it with those who were there, and the officers from the debrief, but not another soul. Pizza has never lied to me ever since he evaced me at Miridem. Guess I was finally going to learn how he got off Reach. But first, we had a war to win.

We returned to find that the defectors were gone, but the rest of Crimson was relaxing by the Pelican. “Team, it's time to hustle!” I yelled out, driving the Mongoose up next to the Pelican. Pizza quickly dismounted the vehicle. I moved up to the cockpit and started spinning up the engines.

“Spectacles,” I radioed, “We need you to stay behind and provide overwatch from the HQ.”

“Yes, sir,” Spectacles responded, leaving the troop bay.

Our flyers weren't going to be wearing the Steel Ranger armor that Spectacles had been developing and improving; they would need to be mobile. The armor wasn't at a full production model neither, so the forces in the Marejave weren't likely to have any of the heavies deployed. Looks like we'd be doing most of the heavy lifting again.

I heard the back hatch seal, “We're secure, Joe. Ready for takeoff,” Pizza radioed. I eased forward on the throttle until the Pelican was above the rooftops. I aimed it in the general direction of West and punched it.

“Joe,” Spectacles began, “I've been getting reports that the forces in the Marejave area have halted their advances. Something about ghosts and snipers, so I'm suspecting Zebra Infiltrators may be there. What I can't make out are these reports of monsters out there. The reports are few, and are far apart, but I think there might be a truth to the matter.”

“Can you get the ones who filed those reports to clarify?”

“Negative, snipers got 'em.”

“Anything else in the AO?”

“The defectors say that Legate Fortis was last reported in the Trottingham area. I think we'd all sleep a little easier if you put him down like a sick dog.”

“I thought Fortis was at Neighagra?”

“Nope, just Pravus, the Centurion. Although, Legates are known for having a powerful influence far and wide. I'm suspecting some form of telecommunication, I'd suggest jamming, but that didn't work at all at Neighagra. Probably on some other frequency that the Pelican's ECM can't reach.”

“So priority targets are Fortis and his telecomm device, if there is such a device? Is there anything else I should know?”

“The Marines are giving him hell, no surprise there, but something has our Marejave forces spooked. The Marines are reporting similar. I'd keep your eyes peeled out there, it might just be the Monster that they're reporting.”

“Solid copy, Spectacles. Keep feeding us intel whenever you can. We'll be back shortly,” I killed my transmission, switching to the intercom. “Listen up, boys. We're heading into the middle of the desert to fight some ghosts, snipers, and monsters, as the locals have been reporting it. I think we should show them that there is nothing to fear but fear itself. Afterwards, we'll be pushing West through the mountains and into Trottingham proper. The Marines there can handle themselves, but I think they'd appreciate a helping hand. Most of the fighting will be in the desert, and in the city, but I suspect that the mountains may have troops in it. Keep an ear to your radios, and Spectacles will fill us in as the situation develops.”

Just as I killed the intercom I saw a puff of smoke on the ground. Looking more closely I saw the tracer headed straight for us. I hurled the Pelican sideways, but was a second too slow. The round blasted apart our right, front engine, and we were going down.

“Joe, wake up! We've got to get the hell out of here!” I heard Pizza yell.

I opened my eyes and looked around, finding that the pilot's harness was the only thing preventing me from falling. My visor was cracked slightly, along the left side, but it didn't obscure any of the HUD elements. I pressed the quick release on my harness and tried my best to land on my feet.

The Pelican was down and capsized. Red emergency lights illuminated the troop bay. I grabbed my M7S and made my way towards the back. Starfire had sustained a head injury during our abrupt landing, but it looked like Pizza had patched it already. Aside from her, Crimson was still battle-ready. I hit the switch to open the back troop bay. I kept my SMG level as it slid open.

Outside, we were greeted by Equestrian ground forces. Apparently a squad was sent over after we were shot down. Now their only objective was to get us back to friendly lines.

“Is this the Crimson Guard?” one of the soldiers asked.

“It sure is, trooper. What's the situation?” I replied.

“Not good, sir. The Zebras have these new war machines. Our bullets are just bouncing right off them. We've been retreating these past twelve miles. I don't think we can make it to Trottingham.”

“War machines? Can you tell me what they look like?”

“No, sir. Everypony who's gotten a good look at them never lived long enough to tell us much, though it looks like you got shot down by one. We could really use your team to cover our evac.”

“Trooper, we are not retreating,” I said, the resolve clear in my voice.

“Sir, we don't have the firepower...”

I gestured over to Pizza, who was readying his Rocket Launcher, “We've got that part covered, trooper. Now, where were these war machines last reported?”

“I don't know, sir. The snipers in first recon do, but they only report to the General.”

“Then lead the way. I'd like to have a chat with the General.”

“Yessir.”

The soldier shuffled out with Crimson on his tail. The rest of his squad helped Starfire out of the gunned down bird. I left a radio tag on the craft, broadcasting on the UNSC high-band, so that we could recover the Pelican later.

We didn't find many hostiles on our way back to allied lines, but cresting the final hill, we knew why. It was clear this was no easy fight. The Equestrian Heavy Guard was fighting tooth and nail against the Zebras. To our left, the battered and bloodied Equestrians, fighting to reclaim their home. On our right, the unrelenting horde that was the Zebras Forces, fighting to win a battle they have already lost so many for.

A few Zebras turned their attention towards us as we made our way back to the friendly lines. Our combined firepower made short work of them, but announced our presence to the rest of the Zebras. We passed by some soldiers on the front lines who were down to nothing but hoof-to-hoof combat to stave off the Zebra onslaught. Unfortunately, the Zebras were better in CQC. Those troopers wouldn't last long.

“Crimson, hold the line here! Starfire, you're with me,” I called out to the team. They hurriedly joined our forces on the front as I progressed further back towards whoever was leading the Equestrian forces here.

The situation was just as I expected: not good. The contingent of Crimson I sent here earlier was in the command tent. The General didn't take too kindly to our unannounced visit, but he was willing to take all the help he could get. He assigned Crimson to taking out the war machine that was giving our boys such a tough time. Help had already been radioed for, but was a long ways out. In the meantime, it looked like Pizza and I would have to hunt ourselves a few monsters.

I popped out of the command tent, seeing the scorching sun overhead, and the lethal tracers flying back and forth from the two armies. The wind whipped at my duster, buffing it with the coarse desert sands. I waved Crimson towards the front, where Pizza was readying his rockets.

I charged forward with Crimson, jumping into the trenchline on the front. The rest of the team was dug in and engaging the enemy. “Crimson, we have a mission update. Our new objective is to eliminate all Zebra war machines in the area. Keep them distracted and Pizza will mop them up.”

The team began suppressing the enemy positions more. I readied my M7S and peaked over the edge. What I saw was a whole load of nothing, for at least 600 yards. That's a bit too far for the SMG. I ducked back down, shifted my position, and drew my Sniper rifle.

This time when I looked up, the Zebras were easy enough to see. They were operating in two-man teams. One sniper, one spotter. They were engaging us from far out of range of what the Equestrian's were trained for. Too bad for them I trained better than that.

The first couple sniper teams were easy enough, but then the other hostiles became aware of me and my rifle. I ducked down into the sandy trench and rethought my approach. Another tank shell soared overhead with unprecedented speed and landed somewhere behind our lines. I pretended not to hear the screams following the blast. My priorities shifted to closing the distance, getting our force's weapons in range of the enemy.

Pizza slung his Rocket Launcher across his back, “Those damn Zebra snipers keep shooting my rockets down before they can hit anything. We're gonna need a new strategy.”

I nodded in agreement, “Those snipers are starting to prioritize me. I don't think I'd be able to take another shot without losing my shields. This cracked visor ain't helping too much either. Do you think we could lay down some smoke?”

“I've only got three grenades, Joe. I don't think that's enough to get you to that war machine nor their lines.”

“Let my try something.” I keyed my mic, tuning it to Equestrian military frequencies. “Lieutenant Joe to any Equestrian naval assets in Trottingham. If you are receiving, acknowledge immediately.”

There was a pause... and then a familiar voice came through, “Joe, it's Admiral Nautical. Looks like you've found us the mother of all battles. Our Marines are barely holding a line in the sand, let alone the beachhead!”

“Same case here, Admiral. I'm sending you some telemetry, do you think one of your ships could send us some smoke shells?”

“That's a helluva shot to make. The Tartarus has the longest-ranged guns in the fleet. She's sending her shells your way, but don't make a habit of this. Our Marines need those guns to take this beach. Nautical out.”

I looked to the West, and in only a few seconds, naval shells began raining down in the divide between our lines, filling the gap with thick, white smoke.

“Fix bayonets!” I yelled at our forces. More than a few eyes went wide with that order. I drew my M7S and chambered a round. “Charge!” I yelled, waving our forces forward as I clambered over the trench. The battle cries at my back told me I was not alone. I cycled Mjolnir's optics to thermal, seeing through the smoke with ease.

There were several white contacts to our front, but I kept my eyes on the real prize: the war machine. Finally being close enough, and having the time to get a good look at it, I saw that it looked a lot like a UNSC Cobra. It was apparently lifting its lockdown, preparing to go mobile. I doubled my pace before I ran out of time.

I saw the yellow, friendly contacts on my motion sensor quickly fall behind, replaced by twice as many red contacts toward the front. I stayed true to my target, getting to the tank in no time.

The commander still had his head poking out of the top, trying to direct his vehicle and supporting infantry away from the smoke. I scoped in on him and let loose a 12 round burst from my M7S. I saw his white silhouette go limp and drop back into the tank. I was only a few yard away from the war machine. I switched back to normal optics.

The tank was gunmetal grey with red & gold trim, and was the size of a small house. I was only a little intimidated by it, but having dealt with plenty of Wraiths on Requiem, it was all standard procedure to me. I climbed aboard the tank's frontal armor. I holstered my M7S so I could prep a Plasma Grenade, tossing the explosive into the open hatch their commander was courteous enough to leave open.

I jumped off the mechanical beast as the grenade detonated. I looked around and spotted Pizza's IFF tag just North of my location. I shouldered my M7S and jumped into the Zebra trench, making my way toward my fellow Spartan.

The trench was mostly vacant, at least until I neared where all the fighting was. There were a half dozen Zebras all with their backs to me. Rather than shoot, I tossed a Promethean Grenade right in the middle of them. When the grenade went off, I open fired with the SMG, turning them, to chum, then to ash.

I found Pizza fighting alongside Crimson, and quickly joined their ranks. The smoke was starting to dissipate. I switched to thermals, stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Pizza, and open fired at anything white and in the direction I came from. Occasionally Pizza would point at a target before he started reloading, marking them as my kill.

Game over. Victory!

When the smoke had finally cleared, destruction was everywhere. I looked over toward our old trenchline to the East. Then at the trench we just took. Several Zebras gave their lives defending this patch of sand in the middle of this godforsaken desert. A price many Equestrians also paid. The Zebra tank was still burning wreckage. I made note of its similarities to the Cobra. Maybe Chuck Finley stole the design from our Pelican's database? It would complicate things, but explain a lot more. My shields hummed back to full in a golden shimmer.

“Pizza, get back to the Pelican. Secure its crash site. Do not let anyone near it. You got that, Spartan?”

“Yes, sir,” Pizza responded, “You might want to take these then.” He handed over his Rocket Launcher. I had to readjust my Sniper Rifle in order to make room for both it and the Rocket Launcher on my back. Mjolnir only has so many magnetic holsters, after all.

Pizza ran off back toward the Pelican's IFF tag. I looked at the forces around me. They were all cover in blood, mostly of their enemy, but some of their own. Looks like Starfire would have some company in the medical tent. The General walked across the battlefield toward me.

“That was an awesome display! I don't think I've ever seen better fighting in all my days. Looks like the Marejave is ours again, thanks to you, Lieutenant.”

“General, our mission isn't over yet. We need to take Trottingham. Help those Marines if we can.”

“Lieutenant, our forces took heavy casualties because of that Zebra war machine. We are combat ineffective as of now. If we stay put, rest up, and get reinforcements, we'll have a fighting chance. If we pack up now and take Trottingham (which we only might), we won't be able to hold the Marejave, and all of this fighting would've been for naught. We're staying put for rearmament and reinforcement. Until then, we can only pray the Marines can take Trottingham.”

“Sir, those Marines are going through hell right now. The Zebras are on the brink of repelling their assault. If we stay put, the Zebras will have a port city to funnel in more of their infantry. We can lose the Marejave, but the Zebras aren't going to get reinforcements if that's the case. If we lose Trottingham, they'll have all the reinforcements they'll ever need.”

“Lieutenant, my orders are clear: I'm to hold the Marejave at all costs. If the Zebras take Trottingham, they'll have to go through us to get at the rest of Equestria. Half of my forces are dead or wounded. In our current state, there is no way we can retake Trottingham.”

“Then what about my team?”

“The addition of Crimson was unexpected and our plans don't have them factored in at all. It doesn't seem like they're equipped for desert operations so much as urban ops, but you do have a wounded mare... Starfire, I believe her name was. I can let your team go, but I must advise you take care of your wounded first. I'm not one for allowing ponies to die needlessly.”

“Understood, General,” I popped a salute and then turned to my team, minus Starfire and Pizza. “Crimson, it looks like we'll be on our own for the time being. Our goal is to break into Trottingham and link up with the Marines at the beach. Trottingham is looking like a good place for the Zebras to let in their infantry, so it's our job to stop them. Footfall, I'd like you to stay and keep an eye on Starfire. Everyone else, let's move out,” I checked the mag on my Sniper Rifle, then slammed it home. Footfall gave a salute and headed off toward the medical tent.

It was a couple hours' march at a brisk pace until the city came into view. There were a few smaller houses on the outskirts of the massive port city. Gazing into the town, I could clearly see over a dozen towers taller than even the highest skyscraper in Stalliongrad. This was a town of business and trade. Even from the outskirts, we could hear the Zebras and Marines trading lead for lead, and blood for blood inside the city.

Nautical had informed us that no progress was being made on the beachhead. It was looking like our rendezvous was just as it was before. Seeing how many snipers there were in the Marejave, I could only assume just as many were in the city. I zoomed out of my binoculars and ducked back into the abandoned house Crimson was holed up in. Keen Eye and Lyra were already drawing up potential enemy positions on a road map we found. Things were not looking pretty.

“Alright, team. Judging from the forces we encountered in the Marejave, I'd say we should expect a lot of snipers. Just remember that this is an urban setting, so if you start taking fire, there will be plenty of cover nearby,” I told Crimson. “I'd say given the terrain, the Zebras would expect a massed assault along the rail lines, just like what we did at the Liberation of Stalliongrad, which is why that is not an option here.

“If we are to fool the Zebras, we'd need a convincing assault to draw their attention elsewhere. Lyra, seeing as you weren't at Stalliongrad, I don't think the Zebras would expect you to be part of our assault. Your job is to link up with the Marines. Just getting there will tell them the Zebras can be beat.

“Everyone else, we'll divide into two teams. Alpha team will consist of Lockheart and Fencing. You'll be doing rooftop-to-rooftop fighting, engaging the enemy from above and assisting Bravo if they need it, otherwise you're just going to be a general pain in the ass of the Zebras. Harass them and cause chaos.

“Bravo team will consist of Solace, Pane, Keen Eye, and Daze. You'll be our ground game. You have two objectives: first is to get me into the tallest tower in the heart of the city. Your second objective is to attack the Zebras in the streets and clear their positions to make life easier for our Marines. Look for sniper nests and clear them out. I'll keep you covered. Any questions?” I concluded.

“What tower do you need to get to, exactly?” Keen Eye asked.

I pointed at a large building in the middle of the map, pock-marked with several red dots. “The Beaumont Vitality Complex, tallest building in Trottingham. Are any of you familiar with it?”

Solace spoke “It's previous tenants were a coalition of entrepreneurs that decided to pool their funding to try for bigger endeavors. Right now, it looks like stripe central, with a hundred and twenty floors of hell between the heavens and earth. I've been there a couple times on past deployments, but I think the Navy would have given it enough of a shellacking to make it's floor plan inaccurate.”

“Is everything settled, then?” I looked around at the team. Lyra looked a little worried, “Something wrong, Lyra?”

“Is it really such a good idea to have me be alone in the city?” she responded.

“We'll be providing a major distraction for the Zebras. Additionally, Alpha team will be escorting you until I get in position. You just need to link up with the Marines and tell them that the Crimson Guard is in the city creating chaos for the Zebras. I'd keep the magic to a minimum and stick to the shadows. Stay low to the ground and move quietly and quickly. The Zebras don't know you're part of Crimson,” unless Chuck Finley has already leaked that intel. “You have nothing to worry about, I've been a sniper ever since the battle of Installation 00.”

VIP!

The team was ready, and we were moving into the city. I was with Bravo, heading into the East side of Trottingham. Alpha was with Lyra, infiltrating from the South side of the city. The streets were dangerous to travel down. Stray naval shells occasionally hit nearby, once only a few yards to our front. We kept moving, never loitering long enough for the Zebras to find us.

We were moving deeper into the city, about a kilometer from its center. The tall towers nearby seemed to lean over us, almost forewarning of what we'd be facing up ahead. An explosion in a nearby store caught our attention; it was too small to be naval fire. As the fireball subsided, I motioned for the team to move in and investigate. Something was off.

I listened carefully. There was the rattle of distant weapons fire from the West; our Marines earning their pay. I tightened the grip on my SMG as we ventured deeper into the building. We reached a back storage room, with crates stack about thirty feet high, to the ceiling. Something was off... things don't just explode in a fireball without reason.

I closed my eyes, thinking deeper and focusing on my senses. I could smell the metallic scent of Mjolnir's air scrubbers, I threw that scent to the back of my mind. I inhaled again... I could smell the ash from the fireball, the sweat on the brows of my team, the odor of fresh leather radiating from my duster, and the lingering scent of cordite from our excursion in the Marejave. Nothing by my nose, maybe another sense.

I could hear the subtle breathing of my teammates, and the rustling of objects as they moved about the room. The beat of their boots on the ground... even my own heartbeat. I counted the breaths: Pane, Daze, and Solace were accounted for. One was missing... Keen Eye, the first member of Crimson I saw back in the Whitetail a long time ago. The one leading Cupcake... I needed to find him, but I also needed to know where to look, and for that, I'll need my eyes.

Another shell struck overhead, knocking some dust off the ceiling, as I opened my eyes. “Keen Eye is MIA,” I whispered, barely catching the attention of Solace.

“He was just behind me. Where did he go?”

“I'm not sure, Solace, but I have a feeling he wasn't alone.”

“Infiltrators?”

“More than likely. Team! We may have Zebra Infiltrators on the premises. Keep a sharp eye out for them as well as TEC-5 Keen Eye.” I started walking back to the entrance that we came through. The scorched hole in the wall was all that was left of there being a firebomb here moments before.

Normally explosions don't make a fireball unless if you want them to, so why was there one here? Somebody wanted there to be one. Why a fireball and not a demolition charge? They wanted our attention, not the building's destruction. Why did they want our attention? So it wouldn't be elsewhere. The “Why” of things can reveal so much. I looked carefully at the scorch marks.

It looked like one of Starfire's incendiaries. Last I checked she had a head injury and was bedridden, with Footfall keeping watch. I looked on the ground for any other indicator of what went boom. Then I found it: a familiar-looking UNSC remote detonator. I started getting the feeling Chuck Finley was here... and very near.

I lifted up what was left of the detonator. Just a few circuits and some scrap metal left. I pocketed it for later. The only UNSC clackers Pizza and I packed had a max range of 300 yards. Probably less, given we're in a city. Normally, we'd send off det codes via the high-band on a matching frequency using Mjolnir's comm suite, but this world doesn't have Mjolnir. I activated VISR.

Whoever planted this charge would have a very unique residue on them. Using Mjolnir's atmospheric controls, I managed to make a rough map of the chemical signature of the bomb. Activating the ARGOS sensors, and uploading that data to the VISR system, I managed to get a series of waypoints on my HUD showing where that chemical signature lingered in the highest concentration. I filtered out other known signatures, leaving only the fireball's. It'd be a long shot if the signature was strong enough for a complete trace, but we've got a general direction right now.

I motioned for my team to rally on me, the set out around the corner, and down an alleyway, following the ARGOS data. ARGOS was always the preferred bomb-sniffing program of the UNSC, came in handy during OP: TREBUCHET, so I've heard. VISR on the other hand, was mostly all washed out in white, given it being low-light night vision that I was using in broad daylight. VISR had the necessary software to run ARGOS through it, which my normal HUD somehow lacked.

I'd have to be sure to add another soft-patch to my HUD after this battle. We were headed down Mane Street when the ARGOS sensor split into two directions. I held up a closed fist, motioning for my team to halt. I got down on one knee and turned off VISR, examining the roads ahead. One went West, towards the tough fighting, the other went South, towards Alpha. I looked for any clue of which way to go. None presented itself.

50/50 odds... I went West. My team followed, with me being the only one with any form of ARGOS sensor. I switched back to VISR and the HUD was showing a stronger and stronger chemical trail further up the road. I shouldered my SMG. We went around another corner, following the trail some more. Up ahead was a short telecomm tower, five stories tall. I ducked back to inform my team, then I heard the distinctive crack of a bullet impacting nearby. I started counting but heard no report to gauge the range of the sniper.

“Sniper,” I whispered, “Not too sure on the range. The vapor trail is leading towards a five story structure at the end of the street. Good money's on the stripe rifleman being up there, most likely in the back of a room on the left side of the building. Most likely fourth or fifth floor, depending on what's behind the building.”

“How do you know this, Joe?” asked Solace.

“It's where I'd be,” I said while pulling out the map of Trottingham. It looked like the central plaza was right behind that tower, with a ring of vendor kiosks encircling a central fountain on the other side. What was it with Equestrian architecture and central fountains in town squares? Regardless, given this information, if I was a sniper waiting in ambush, I'd be at the highest floor I could harmlessly jump down from: the fourth.

I'd also be positioned where I could duck back into cover and move about without detection. The left-most window (from my current perspective) would allow me to quickly roll into cover and change positions without crossing a window. Finally, I tend to notice silhouettes first, so I'd stay away from the roof. Additionally, focus tends to go inwards from such a silhouette, so the top floor would be uncanny. Perspective would also apply to this, so this sniper would be sniping from inside the room, not from a window sill, for risk of the rifle barrel being spotted from the side. Of course this was assuming the shot came from that telecomm tower and not an adjacent structure. Only one way to find out.

I put my SMG on my right hip holster and unslung my Sniper Rifle from my back. I checked to make sure a round was chambered. Next I turned to face the tower, being sure to not step out from around the corner. I remembered all I could from that glimpse at the tower, and took aim where I thought that sniper would be. I aimed my Sniper Rifle as best I could, the used my Thruster Pack to dodge around the corner at high speed. As soon as the Thruster Pack ran out I planted my feet firmly beneath myself to halt my movement.

Next I scoped in on the suspected spot, only seeing a pitch-black room beyond that window. I recalled the Zebra rifle design from Big D's Dinner in Stalliongrad, figuring these stripes would be shooting from a bipedal, standing position. I adjusted my aim in a millisecond, then let the 14.5mm armor piercing flechette fly. The window shattered... and all was quiet for seemingly an eternity. I remained statuesque a moment longer. Nothing dared challenge me, but the chatter of rifles in the West.

Finally I stood upright, and lowered my rifle to a resting position. Before I waved my team over, I scanned the rest of the street. There were no practical sniping positions anywhere else. I walked towards the tower, waving for them to follow me. I swapped back to my Silenced SMG.

We reached the fourth floor unabated, and I kicked open the only locked door there, letting it fly off its hinges. Inside was the sniper's nest, plus one dead sniper. A cool breeze came in through the window, making my duster wave with it like it was a victorious flag. I walked over to the sniper's body.

There were finer glass particles on the ground next to his rifle, finer than the shattered window suggested. This Zebra sniper was in a flashy red-and-gold uniform, a much higher-quality uniform than the Zebra infantry I'd encountered in previous engagements. I'd take this to be an officer, then. I noticed that the rifle seemed over-sized for the Zebra, and grabbed it for a closer look.

It had a wooden stock, a seven foot barrel, and a suppressor on the end. When I looked at the scope, it was shattered clean through. None of the magnifying lenses were left. The rifle was bolt action, so I checked the chamber. Inside was an armor-piercing round of .50BMG. There was no magazine for this rifle, neither built-in nor detachable. I already have plenty .50BMG rounds, and this rifle isn't going to help the others on my team without a scope. What was more curious was that the rifle was stamped “Ironshod Firearms” on the receiver. I'd have to look into that later.

Seeing as he was an officer, I searched his uniform for anything that could help in this battle. My team had already cleared the rest of the floor. I checked his pockets, only finding more .50BMG AP rounds. Then I moved in on the interior pockets of the uniform. There I found a coin pouch, and a letter. It was written in Zebra, and apparently encrypted as well. It could prove useful, though. I pocketed it.

I looked at the Zebra one last time in his only remaining eye, then I looked at the wall behind him. Even through the blood and splattered brain matter, a small hole could be seen where my round continued onward. I wasn't too impressed, but it is important to appreciate the kind of damage that a rifle that can penetrate 19 inches of steel can do. One thing I didn't appreciate was that the stripe didn't have a UNSC clacker on him. I shouldered my SMG and marched to the stairwell leading to the fifth floor.

On the fifth floor was seemingly nothing. Seemingly. We went room to room, looking for anything out of place. It wasn't until we reach the roof access that I spotted something suspicious. The door was rigged to an alarm system. A system that was disabled.

It looked like the alarm was reliant on magnets to trigger, seeing as a large natural magnet was taped to a conspicuous bar at the top of the door and no sirens were blaring in our ears. Chances are the officer downstairs either had this as a pre-planned escape route, or had come from this direction. I switched back over to VISR, looking for any ARGOS indicators. Whoever had planted the bomb, probably still had the clacker. The waypoints showed a route going off of the roof and across the plaza to a store opposite our tower. This smelled of a trap.

Every building in the plaza had its windows blacked out. I looked back at the rest of Bravo as they stacked up behind me. “I think we're headed into an ambush,” I said.

“Well, don't forget about Alpha team, we could always call for help,” Solace told me.

“I just might, but the VIP needs them more than us. Daze, do you have any non-lethals?”

“Just a few 9-Bangs. Why do you ask?”

“I'm thinking that the stripes will be expecting us from this building. So, I'll stay here, and use those 9-Bangs to make it look like we're all engaging the Zebras like we walked into their trap. Solace, you take the team and flank to the North. I believe we passed a side street that will lead you to a building on the Northern side of the plaza, it's a small, two-story structure. Can't miss it.”

“On it, Joe. Bravo, on me. Let's get Keen Eye back,” Solace waved a hoof for the team to follow him back downstairs. I readied Pizza's Rocket Launcher as Daze handed me his three 9-Bangs. I gave the team a few minutes to navigate around, but I moved before they were in position; they'd need a diversion to get through these streets unmolested.

I switched over to thermal optics, scanning for peculiar heat signatures. There was a good dozen, all in pairs, but those were only the ones I could see. I aimed at one pair that still seemed to be setting up, and let the rocket fly. Immediately, I switched over to another target position, and let the second rocket loose. Both impact sites swelled like a white cloud through my thermal optics, and I saw nothing leave those areas.

Then the Zebras started firing back at me. My shields flared bright as I ducked back to cover. I switched over to my Sniper Rifle and waited for the gunfire to subside. Given how much my shields dropped, it looked like they were using .308 rifles. My rifle's mag still had three rounds left, and I had plenty more in reserve. Quiet permeated the battleground for a brief moment, a moment I wouldn't let slip by.

I rolled out of my cover, scoped in and fired on a third sniper nest. Following through, I ran off the roof of the building, rolled through my landing, and stopped just behind a kiosk. It looked like there was three more nests... at least. I reloaded my rifle and drew out my fiber optic cable. I switched back to standard optics, since the fiber optic cable didn't convey IR or UV light. Using the thin, flexible device, I used it to gaze out from cover without putting my neck on the line. I could count a dozen good spots for hides. My shields hummed back to full strength as I sat there thinking of which positions to attack.

The decision was made for me when .308 rounds started hitting me. I tracked back to were those rounds were coming from. A sniper team was bearing down on me from a structure just South of the tower I jumped from. My shields were taking some heavy hits, and they wouldn't last long. I tossed a 9-Bang over to the sniper. As the explosions stunned and disoriented him, I rushed to another kiosk toward the north, close to where my team should be punching through.

I activated my Thruster Pack and slid the rest of the distance, using my momentum to keep me headed forward as I rolled over to get a shot on the stripe snipers behind me. I started getting some déjà vu of a locale of Requiem's called Sniper Alley. I get shot down, then there a more snipers than I have ever seen before, all in one deployment. Unfortunately for these Zebras, I made it through Sniper Alley.

I looked northward towards the building I directed my team to. They should be coming up in a minute or two, then we'd make the push further West, along the ARGOS trail. I would have to eliminate the snipers first, and for that I'd need a plan. A crazy plan. I switched over to my SMG, leaving my other two weapons on the ground in my cover. Next, I took off my helmet and duster. Using some tape, I attached the duster to the helmet.

I pulled the pins on the last two 9-Bangs and tossed them into the middle of the plaza. Before they even detonated, I tossed my helmet back towards my previous kiosk. The Zebras engaged it as though it were me, giving me a window to use my Thruster Pack and sprint across the plaza. Rounds started pinging near my feet, the Zebras too stunned by the 9-Bangs to deliver accurate fire. I made it into one of the buildings they were using for hides. Without my helmet, I'd have no shield manipulators for my head. At least I didn't have to deal with the cracked visor any longer...

Have I ever told you that sniper rifles don't make the best CQC weapons? Well, nobody bothered to tell these Zebras that, either. Going room-to-room was dangerous by one's lonesome, but doable for a Spartan. The Zebras were better in hand-to-hoof combat than myself, but that didn't matter if they couldn't get close enough to use such an advantage. That is why I loved the M7S Silenced SMG. Whisper quiet, high fire rate, with caseless rounds. The enemy might see me coming, but the only thing they're going to hear are their asses hitting the floor.

I had already cleared two more of the nests in the complex by the time my team arrived in the northern building. They were trading rounds with the Zebras, but neither was getting a good enough shot. I'd have to chalk that up to earth pony agility. I could hear muffled thumps coming from a room up ahead. Suppressors dampen sounds, but doesn't nullify them completely. I guess the next team was in behind door number 3.

I kicked the door open, and spotted the sniper with his rifle aimed to the north. I aimed my SMG at him and pulled the trigger. Only three rounds got off, before I was knocked to the ground. I'm not sure who hit the floor first: me or the sniper. I tried to turn my SMG on the offender, but it was kicked free from my grasp, and I took a blow to the head, nearly knocking me out.

My vision was blurry, my ears ringing, and all I could taste was copper, but I had to fight to survive this encounter. I boosted myself towards the window with my Thruster Pack. The dark room wasn't helping me find my target. I'd need a silhouette to find him easily, like with the sniper. My senses gradually returned to me. The lights came on in the room, and as I stopped seeing stars, I came face-to-face with my attacker. He didn't have a gun, but he now held a sword in his jaw.

He had white and black stripes across his entire body, but something seemed off about those stripes. It was like the white was where the black was supposed to be and vice versa. It was uncanny, but what I found odd was that he just waited there, sword at the ready. He was on his hind legs, seeming to try to mimic my own stance. We stared at one another for what felt like an eternity. I think I knew why he wasn't attacking.

It was all for honor, just like in Neighagra. I was unarmed, he had a blade. I was trapped, he wasn't going to change his position. I killed his shooter, he wanted revenge. I drew my combat knife from my left vambrace and adopted a better stance. Now it was an even fight.

He jumped at me, soaring through the air like a rocket. I dodged under him with my Thruster Pack. While he was passing above me, he tried to land a kick to my head. I barely brought my arms up in time to block. We both rolled back up into our stances, positions reversed. We locked gazes again. He seemed intent on killing me, like I was the only thing he was focused on. Good thing too, because a round came flying through the window and struck him directly.

He turned around, looking to see who had challenged his honor in the fight. He was clutching his side as he collapsed onto his other three hooves. He almost turned around to face me again, but I had already stuck it to him.

I waited for the residual plasma to dissipate from my last grenade, then I grabbed my SMG. I was about to head over to the last nest, but it seemed to have gone quiet. Bravo started waving me over. Smart money was on them having eliminated the last nest before me. I found my way down and across the plaza.

“About time you guys show up,” I told the team as I grabbed my duster and helmet, donning them again.

“It's called 'dramatic suspense', Joe. We were just waiting for the perfect moment,” Pane said.

I grabbed my Sniper Rifle and Pizza's Rocket Launcher. My helmet was showing green across the board for Mjolnir's systems. “Every second counts, Pane. Now, let's go rescue Keen Eye. The trail leads West.”

“How are you even tracking him? Does our equipment have IFF tags on it?” Solace asked.

“Negative, Admiral. ARGOS sensors are used to track and find explosives and their residues. The firebomb back there had a unique signature, so I'm tracking the residue from it. Whoever planted it has us on their tail.” I slapped in another pair of rockets and slung the launcher across my back. “And the trail is hot,” I added.

Entering the western building in the plaza was easy enough, but every door was locked. I almost wish I'd brought a Shotgun to breach these damned things. So far, we were finding nothing in every room. I've never picked a lock before, so I opted to try and bypass the lock. The old credit card trick seemed to work well enough with a combat knife.

We had cleared the last of the rooms on the third floor, and were stacking up at the top floor's stairs. It also looked like we were out of explosives, so my standard breach was out of the question. We inched up the steps, making it to the door. It wouldn't budge. The ARGOS trail lead right here, but according to the map, there was no way out, not even an adjacent alley. This building only opened to the plaza, which we had sufficiently cleared.

I pulled out my fiber optic cable, and squeezed one end through the bottom of the door, patching the feed into my helmet. The cracked visor was making it a bit more difficult to view than normal, but it was coming through clear enough. There was only one large room, apparently still under construction. I guess that would explain why the rest of the building was devoid of most furniture. I twisted the camera around, trying to get a better view of things, but it was too dark to see any specifics. I pocketed the fiber optic cable, and got my boot ready.

The door came flying off its hinges and my team rushed in. I reactivated VISR to see better in the dark room. In the middle was a pool of blood. Far more than there ever should be. “Clear!” I heard Daze call out.

I walked closer, not taking my eyes off the pool. I put a finger in the blood, to make sure it was in fact blood. My first guess was right, and judging by the color, it was sitting here for a little while but not long enough to dry up. I saw something poke up out of the blood. I pulled it out.

Eye, Keen
26595255 TEC-5
AB POS EHG
They were Keen Eye's dog tags. Not exactly in a UNSC-standard format, but this wasn't exactly the UNSC. “That's a lot of blood, Joe,” Solace said. I pocketed the dog tags.

“If he's still alive, he isn't here.” I checked the ARGOS waypoints again. “And it looks like the trail goes cold here. Somehow the bomber managed to get rid of his chemical signature. We have nowhere to go from here. Let's get going to our original objective... it's not far from here.”

The team gradually walked out of the room, but I lingered a second longer. I did one last sweep of the room, looking for any possible hint as to where Keen Eye went. VISR was highlighting something. I switched back to standard optics and activated my helmet-mounted flashlights. There was definitely a glint on the floor, about two feet west of the blood pool. I walked closer to investigate.

It was the UNSC detonator. I picked it up gingerly, looking it over carefully. It looked like the detonator had already been used, judging by the lack of a safety pin. I placed it next to Keen Eye's dog tags in an ammo pouch and followed my team to the ground floor.

The Beaumont Vitality Complex was even bigger up close than it was through my binoculars. From down here I could barely see my perch: three floors down from the top, just in front of the complex's telecomm tower, north side.

Between that floor and where we stood was a hundred and five floors of sniper nests. Those hostiles were giving our Marines a pounding, and it looked like it would be our job to stop them. I checked to make sure I had a round chambered in my SMG. We'd have to find Keen Eye after all this blew over.

“Okay, Bravo. You'll need to escort me up to floor 102, from there, I'll be in position to cover both you and Alpha. Once I get in position, I'll wave you guys off. From there, you'll proceed to cause havoc for the enemy throughout the city. Link up with the Marines if you can. Solace, once we split, you'll be leading Bravo. Alpha should be able to give you some top cover once we get out of there. Is everypony ready?”

“We're all set, sir,” Solace said.

We advanced to the front of the building. “Daze, you got any stuns?” I asked.

“Negative, Joe. I gave you the last.”

“Looks like we've got to do this the hard way. I'll lead, my shields can take some of their fire, but we've got to rush to cover. Ready?”

“Ready!” the team responded.

“Breaching!” I yelled, kicking in the door. The lobby was a massive room. There was a pair of palm trees on either side of the front desk. It was very open, not much in the way of cover, but the planters the trees rested in could suffice. Behind the front desk, there was a pair of staircases headed in opposite directions, leading up to the second floor mezzanine. Toward the back of the second floor, in the middle, was a grouping of elevator shafts, with stairwells further back from them. Oh, and there were snipers.

My shields flared as I ran into the middle of their kill box, drawing their fire. I could only stay a half-second before I had to bolt for the planter on the right. My shields were down, but it looked like Bravo got to cover using what little time I bought them. The Zebra snipers were keeping me pinned, as well as the rest of my team. I waited for my shields to hum back to max.

“Cover me!” I called out to my team. I jumped up from my cover, and ran just below a sniper position on the mezzanine above me. I activated my Thruster Pack to boost my jump up to the second floor, clambering over the railing. I shouldered my SMG once I got topside and unloaded half a mag into the nearest Zebra. The other hostile snipers turned their attention from my team to me.

When they open fired, I grabbed the Zebra I shot before he could hit the floor, using him as a meat shield. The Zebra rounds were still penetrating, but they weren't hitting all that hard. My shields were barely fading under their concentrated fire.

I fired from around the corpse-shield until my mag ran dry. With a flick of the wrist, it clattered to the floor. I would have to drop my improvised cover to reload, which would most likely spell my doom, given how quickly their combined fire can whittle my shield down. “Back up!” I radioed.

Bravo charged up the stairs, and the Zebras started zeroing in on them. A series of cracks rang through the air as shattered glass rained to the floor... then all was still. I looked up from my corpse-cover.

“Alpha team reporting in, Joe. The VIP made it,” Lockheart greeted me.

“Alpha, glad to have you back. Bravo was kinda getting in a tough bind,” I replied, relieved to see the Colonel.

“I thought you were supposed to be covering us by now?” Fencing said.

“We got delayed; Keen Eye is MIA.”

“What happened?”

“The Zebra's set off an incendiary bomb to distract us, and jumped Keen Eye while our backs were turned. We tried to follow him, but the trail went cold when we found his dog tags. We can continue the search for him when less pressing matters need to be dealt with. Right now, we need to take this tower and provide support to our Marines,” that brought Alpha up to speed.

Storming the floors was somewhat similar to the plaza, and eventually we got it down to a routine. Kick the door, storm the room, sweep the corners, Alpha flanks through the windows (if available). We went through about a hundred floors like that, clearing sniper nest after sniper nest. Eventually, I couldn't even hear rifle reports from within the building.

It was looking like we cleared the building thoroughly, and with no casualties to boot. I radioed to the teams, “It looks like my hide is secure. You guys should head out into the streets and be a general pain in the ass of our enemy and support the Marines when they get to your location. I'll set up and provide long-range support. Bonus points to whoever drops the Legate. Once the city is secure, we'll rendezvous at the house we set up in before entering this godforsaken hellhole. How copy?”

“Good copy,” Solace and Lockheart said in tandem. Solace headed for the stairs while Lockheart and his team went for the nearest window. As they left, I started gazing around my chosen sniper den. This was a conference room for the executives of the Beaumont Vitality company. It was rather cramped with the large table in the middle of the room. I decided to move some furniture.

I positioned the table towards the North side of the room; the windows there had a better overlook on the city, whereas the others were blocked partly by the building's exterior façade. I moved all but two of the chairs against the South wall, barricading the door with them. The East wall was bare, and I left it as such. The West side had all the windows, which wrapped around to the North side partially. I killed the lights to the room, that way anyone looking in would just see it as a mirror, until I shot out one of the windows.

The last two chairs I moved into position behind the table, using one to sit down on and the other to hold my extra magazines. I unslung my Sniper Rifle and deployed its bipod on the conference table. I grabbed three extra mags from the chair and set them up next to my rifle, so that I would have them at the ready for faster reloads. I pulled out my fiber optic cable and plugged into into my helmet and sniper scope.

Mjolnir's systems automatically booted up the ballistic computer and a moment later highlighted the path my shot would take. This high up in a skyscraper, it looked like there was notable wind currents just outside the window. I scoped in on the beach. The Marines came into view, and things weren't pretty.

“Nautical, you reading me?”

“Loud and clear, Joe,” the Admiral responded.

“I'm set up in the Beaumont Vitality Complex and have a good sight line on your Marine's positions. Tell them they can designate targets with flares. I'll provide sniper support on those targets.”

“Right away, Joe. Nice of you to return the favor.”

“Just don't shell the Complex and everything will be fine.”

I waited for the designated targets to come up, eliminating targets of opportunity between designated kills. I only saw a couple stripes down below in their officer's uniform like what I'd found at the telecom tower. I saw a Marine fire a flare gun into an enemy pillbox, South of his position. The ballistic computer recalculated for the shot, showing a distance of 700 yards. The thin red line matched up with the gun port on the pillbox, and I let a shell fly. The window of the conference room shattered, but the round didn't deviate from its course; after all, it could punch through 19 inches of armor.

A half second later, the 14.5x114mm APFSDS-T round went into the pillbox, and the position fell silent. Moments later, the Marines charged out of their sandy trenches and charged the position, bayonets affixed. I switched my radio channel over to the Marine frequencies. There was a lot more chaos on the airwaves than on the Navy's channels. I started to focus on the channels, listening for any call-outs for hostile locations. What I heard was the cries of desperate warriors.

“Move up! We've gotta push them back off our beach!”

“Last mag, I need ammo!”

“Corpsman! We've got wounded!”

“Hostiles in the building South East of us, sir!”

That was my call. I shifted my aim 300 yards further down range, and I found a den of snipers setting up, with basic infantry suppressing the Marines. Before I could take them out, the snipers broke my line of sight, headed straight for their hides. I focused on the hostile infantry instead. The last three rounds of my mag clattered to the floor along with three Zebras a thousand yards away. I grabbed one of the mags I set up earlier and loaded it.

It looked like the Marines were pushing South due to my support. I saw Lyra with some of the wounded, doing her best to patch them up. She seemed a little shaken, but there were bigger fish to fry. I saw a flare to the North of their position.

I shifted my fire and looked for the target. This one was an officer leading an infantry charge against the Marines' crippled North flank. One shot cut the head off the snake, but the infantry already had their orders. I switched over to Navy channels. “Nautical, requesting artillery support on designated target North of current Marine positions.”

“Target spotted, Joe. Destroyer Outta Your League, engage!” I looked out at the warships. One of the ships had her guns drop in elevation and shift North. Almost as soon as it fired, I saw a chain of explosions walked up and down the charging Zebras. Only bits and pieces remained. Immediately after, it shifted its guns back to focus on sniper dens in the city.

I refocused onto the North flank. The Marines were digging in, not having enough numbers to push the Zebras back. A glance back up at the warships revealed another wave of landing craft headed toward the beach. A handful of these boats were painted matte black, very different from the OD green of the other boats. These black boats were headed toward the North, all the other boats were headed to the South.

Another flare popped, this one between me and the Marines. Their eastern flank was getting pummeled. It looked like they were at the apex of a Zebra kill box. The Zebras had set up MG nests, they looked like the same type of HMGs I faced in Cloudsdale. Those would chew those Marines apart. I engaged the designated MG operators before moving on to the other MG nests.

Before I could offline the next nest, the previous one was re-manned by more stripes. It looked like the stripes where coming out of the buildings all over the eastern flank of the Marines. I decided to shift my fire from the MG operators to the guns themselves. I let loose the last round of my current mag and reloaded. The round impacted the receiver of one of the .50 Cal machine guns, damaging it beyond repair.

The Zebra crew drew their rifles and charged out of the nest against the Marines. I barely had enough time to engage, dropping the last stripe at the edge of the Marine's trenchline. I was glad I set up those mags earlier. Without taking my eyes off the scope, I grabbed some more mags from the chair and set them up on the table like before. I was about to eliminate the second of their three MG nests when I heard a bolt click closed. My gaze immediately went over to the barricaded door.

Something was off here... I disengaged the fiber optic capable and my HUD returned to normal. I aimed my rifle at the door, and waited. “Nautical, I believe my position is compromised. I'll have to relocate before I can engage any more targets.”

“Solid copy, Joe, but it doesn't look like you'll be needed for much longer. Our forces have taken the North, and are flanking the East. The South is being held steadily by the forces already there.”

“I thought we were loosing the North?”

“Not any more, some hotshot SF team popped up and volunteered themselves to take the North flank. Things are looking good there.”

“Where's the most likely point I can link up with them?”

“The Eastern trenchline, probably, but these guys are like a hot knife through the Zebra's butter. The fight might be over before you can make it to the beach.”

“Copy that.” I heard something shuffle around on the other side of the East wall. I turned to face that wall, expecting something to spring out at me. A good fifteen minutes passed with me just aiming a Sniper Rifle at a blank wall. I didn't hear any further sounds, though. I pressed my ear up to the wall as best I could with a helmet on and concentrated on my hearing.

I could hear my heartbeat and my blood flow through my veins. I could hear myself breathe, and I could hear the chatter of small arms fire from the beach several hundred yards' distant. I held my breath and tried to ignore my heart and blood for the time being. I could hear something faint... almost too faint to hear. I couldn't decipher what it was.

On a hunch, I switched to VISR and had ARGOS scan the door, this time for any variety of explosives, instead of a particular signature. A half-dozen icons appeared on the door. I almost forgot to breathe. My only way out would likely get me killed. I guess I'd have to make a new way out. I aimed back at the wall.

I was out of explosives... or was I? I looked back at the door and aimed at one of the ARGOS icons. I fired an APFSDS-T round through the door, forcing a premature detonation of the explosives. The explosion took out the entire South wall as well as the door. I could see into the floors above and below me. I rushed out of the room, switching over to my Silenced SMG.

Then something hit me like a truck. I was knocked westward, landing on my side, my SMG a few feet beyond my reach. Immediately, I was being pummeled. My visor cracked some more, my shields were down. I quickly brought up my arms to block. The blows shifted lower, now targeting my core. I could feel this bastard straddling me, so I activated my Thruster Pack to boost between his legs. This got me out of his grip, and gave me some room.

I rolled onto all fours and looked up. This Zebra was unique, compared to the other militants. He had what looked like steel armor, custom-fitted around his body to allow maximum mobility and protection. He also had a red cape, for some reason.

I shifted onto one knee and drew my Sniper Rifle. Before I could scope in, a flashbang went off and he was gone. My eyes immediately shifted to my motion sensor... it was blank. I looked around the hall some more. I couldn't see him, but the room adjacent to the conference room was open. Three guesses where he went. I grabbed my SMG and slung my Sniper Rifle, then inched my way inside.

Looking left and right, the room looked clear. Now, bad guys just don't vanish into thin air... unless if I have a Wraith. So where did he go? I turned, about to head back into the hall when a red dot appeared directly above me. I thrusted backwards immediately, leveling my SMG on the bastard. I fired off only a few round before he closed the distance and knocked my SMG loose. I really should get a sling for that damned thing... The rounds pinged off his armor, not affecting him in the slightest. He grabbed me and threw me through the West wall before I could even put up my dukes.

I crashed right through the drywall and maybe a stud or two. I landed against the conference table I was sniping from, and looked up at this steel-clad warrior. He looked like he was going to kill me... Understandable. He looked as though I wasn't even putting up a fight... Unacceptable. I stood up as I drew my combat knife from its concealed sheathe in my left vambrace, getting in a good fighting stance. My auto-doc reported it had used a morphine syrette.

This hostile also had a lengthy combat knife of his own, and he wasn't too happy with me. Gripping the knife in his maw, he charged forward as I did the same. When we were feet apart I jumped upward, and used my Thruster Pack to accelerate my landing. I touched down behind him, and we both spun clockwise to face each other. I reversed the grip on my knife and tried for a backhand strike to his head. He ducked down, dodging the strike.

He dropped his knife from his maw and caught it between his right fetlock and corresponding hoof. He tried for an upward strike, and I rolled left to dodge. I followed through with an elbow to his ribs, and a crack greeted my ears. Switching striking arms, I tried a second elbow towards his head. Yet again, he ducked.

Now that he was below my center of mass, he grabbed onto me and lifted me skyward. He twisted and threw me towards one of the windows. I went tumbling out amongst several shards of glass. My Thruster Pack kicked in and brought me back from the brink, hurling my back into the building. As soon as my feet touched back down on the carpeting of the conference room, I spun counterclockwise for a haymaker. My strike connected to the stripe's head as he tried for another grapple, and he collapsed in a heap. He started chuckling a little, but I ignored this distraction. I wasn't going to be caught monologuing just because he decided to laugh.

I grabbed onto his mane and tail and threw him like he was a mischievous ruffian, right out the window he just tried to send me through. I watched him fall, my eyes following him down until I found the source of his laughter. Did I mention how numbing morphine can be? Apparently when I landed my haymaker, he planted his knife in my gut. He wasn't trying for another grapple, but for a finishing blow. Blood started dripping out of the wound. I looked back at the splat on the ground that was the bastard who stabbed me. His knife was a little to the left of where the ballista ran me through so long ago.

I tried to sit down, my back propped up against the window sill. I switched back over to the Marine comm channels. Another flare popped near another pill box on the South flank before I could listen to any chatter. I reached over and grabbed my Sniper Rifle. “Lyra, if you're hearing this, I need immediate medical assistance in the conference room on floor 103 of the Beaumont Vitality Complex. Northwest corner. Alpha, Bravo, help her out. I'll do what I can from here,” I radioed.

I shouldered my rifle and scoped in. I wouldn't have the advantages of my fiber optic cable and integrated ballistic computer in this situation. That striped bastard worsened the crack running down my visor. My blood was starting to stain my duster. To top it all off, my auto-doc said it was out of biofoam. Great. I looked in at the pillbox. My rifle was swaying a bit too much for me to get a clear shot. I switched to a lefty grip, took another deep breath, and cradled the rifle. This time, it was a bit more stable. I saw the target clearly; he had a helmet none too different from that of King Leonidas in ancient Sparta. I lined up the shot, fatigue ravaging my body. I aimed and let the lead fly. I saw the round arch over, and it struck the target in his hind leg, stumbling him. I set down my rifle. I needed to catch my breath before my rifle's sway had those rounds landing in friendlies.

I saw a flash from down the hall, just around the corner. Equal parts paranoia and concern played at me. I crawled over and grabbed my Silenced SMG from the floor. I kept pressure on my wound with my right hand, holding my SMG as steady as I could with my left. I saw a silhouette of a shadow cast from around the corner, approaching at a casual pace. It wasn't the silhouette of a unicorn. I kept my sights level.

Around the corner stepped a young colt, too young to be enlisted. He had a red mane and a butter colored coat. He was also armed with fancy-looking a shotgun. His cutie mark was seven polished ball bearings arranged randomly. He meandered right up to me, unfazed by me pointing a gun at him. “Hey, it's you! Can't believe that old man's spell actually worked! You look kinda hurt, and I don't have much time. Take this, chug it down, and pull out that knife,” he said as he handed me a bottle with a purple solution in it.

“Who are you?” I asked, cautiously taking the bottle.

“My name's Buckshot. I guess I'll be seeing you around, probably later rather than sooner... for you at least,” He left the room, heading back down the hall. As soon as he rounded the corner, a bright violet flash occurred and all was silent. I felt my strength sap somewhat. I looked at the bottle. It had a Ministry of Peace insignia on it. I took off my helmet, popped the top to the bottle and downed the solution. Almost immediately a tingling sensation was felt around the knife. I slowly (and painfully) withdrew the blade. Blood started spilling out, but it was a lot less than I thought it would be.

Right before my eyes, the wound started to heal. The gel layer resealed over the split moments thereafter. My auto-doc started saying I was all green. I started feeling a bit better too, but residual pain was still there. Some of the purple substance was still left in the bottle. I put the cap back on it and pocketed the bottle. I would have to figure out what it was later. And whoever the hell that Buckshot kid was as well.

I tried to get up and was surprised to find success at that. I looked over the blade that had moments before been in my gut. I looked a lot like a Tanto knife, but with the hilt of a Kukri. Definitely a somewhat unique blade. I pocketed it, my empty mags, and spent shell casings. I holstered my SMG, re-slung my Rocket Launcher and Sniper Rifle, and headed out the door.

“Lyra, belay what I just said. Give me a SitRep, over.”

“Joe, an SF group rolled in, and now the beach is secured. Marines are advancing into the city with little to no resistance. You sure you don't need that medical attention?”

“I'm somewhat certain, Lyra. But are you certain about the Marines facing no resistance?”

“Well, I'm right now at the bottom of the Beaumont Vitality Complex, and we took no casualties en route.”

“Shit, this is starting to sound a lot like Neighagra. Do you think the Marines can handle securing the city?”

“Joe, it looks good from down here. Nautical says the fleet will hang around for a while, make sure the Zebras don't try anything.”

“Solid copy, heading down to you,” I switched to Crimson's comm channel, “All Crimson callsigns, head over to the rendezvous. It looks like our job here is done.”

The walk back to the Marejave was long, but quiet. It was the perfect welcome to our team. I only wished Keen Eye could be with us to feel this peace. We eventually made it back to the General, who said that he got his reinforcements and would be heading to Trottingham ASAP. We kindly reminded him that the Marines, with a little help from Crimson, had already taken back the city. He seemed a little riled at that. Good thing my visor was polarized, I didn't want to know how he would've reacted if he good see me grinning ear-to-ear.

We found our way over to the medical tent, and found some leather restraints holding Starfire down. She had a gauze bandage over her head, and Footfall was holding an ice pack up to his head. “Who the hell strapped down my EOD technician?” I asked the two.

“I did,” Footfall said, lazily raising the hoof that wasn't holding the ice pack.

“And I take it the ice pack is because of her?”

“Yes, sir,” Footfall responded.

“Starfire, what happened?”

“I'm fine,” she said vehemently, “I don't need to see a doctor.”

“I think I've heard this story before. A few times, at least,” I said, recalling my service in the UNSC Marines (and later, ODST). “I take it that you didn't want to sit around in medical as your friends were out there fighting, so you tried to escape. That is the very reason why I assigned Footfall to you, who did a greater job than I expected. I honestly thought you'd break out and make a beeline for Trottingham, with Footfall trailing behind. Though, I think the leather restraints are a bit much.”

“She kicked me in the head,” Footfall countered.

“It could've been a lot worse. Anyways, Trottingham is secure, and we're homeward bound.”

Starfire had something to say, “Last I checked, we were shot down. How do you plan on getting back to Canterlot? By hoof?”

“The general's reinforcements got here somehow, right? I was thinking we could just hitch the return ride. Either that or see if Nautical could give us a lift.”

Lockheart and Lyra were left to undo Starfire's restraints and get her ambulatory. I ordered the rest of Crimson to stay put. I walked back out into the desert and looked around for a certain IFF tag.

“Pizza, still holding the fort, I see?”

“By your command, Joe. No one got too close to the Pelican while you were gone. I take it Trottingham is ours?”

“You got that right, Pizza. Now, how are we going to get this thing back to base?”

“I don't think it's possible, Joe. You got any ideas?”

“Aside from getting the princesses down here, in the middle of a recently hot warzone, to carry our luggage? No. But we might be able to make this thing more capable of being left behind. You still got your neural implant?”

“Yeah, all officers do, just like you.”

“I was thinking we could offload the sensitive data from this bird and then enact the Cole Protocol's procedures to wipe the system. We'll offload it all back at the HQ later.”

“If you're needing two neural implants for this, just how much data did you upload to the Pelican before we left?”

“Well, I like to read and look over technical manuals... and I packed enough data to last us about 15 years... so a lot? Maybe all of it, or at least all of what would be interesting. Textbooks are rather dull to read through.”

“Alright, it's your bird, you should do the honors first.”

“Got it, Pizza,” I walked into the overturned hulk of the dropship, advancing into the cockpit of the aircraft. I looked up and the controls, near the AI stand. I reached up to the back of my helmet and yanked the neural implant chip. I reached up and inserted the chip into the stand. The controls flickered back to life and I reached over to the computer controls. I transferred about half the files onto my implant and yanked it once it completed. “You're up, Pizza.” Wash, rinse, repeat.

The transfer completed and he reinserted his implant. It looked like all the files were duplicated successfully. I opened up a very old file embedded in the Pelican's data banks. I highlighted it and punched the “Enter” key. In an instant, the screens blacked out, then returned on the infamous blue screen of death. “Point of no return,” I muttered to Pizza.

“Not really, the computers back at HQ should be able to handle this data just fine. Also, it'd give us an excuse to check that proximity scanner again.”

“I also need to tell you that Chuck Finley is still in play, and getting more active. Thus far, I believe he was behind Keen Eye's kidnapping, the ambush that almost iced you, intelligence theft for the UNSC Cobra, and maybe much more. I'm not too sure who it is, and with everything that Finley has done, I am almost certain he is on our own fireteam.”

“So you're saying the spy we somehow recruited is getting more bold?”

“There is a good chance of it. That Cobra was something that was on the files in the HQ. Aside from the princesses and their messengers, the HQ is known only to Crimson. Those messengers never got into the HQ itself, only just outside it, so they never had access to our files. Additionally I found a UNSC detonator while tracking Keen Eye. We need to do a full audit of all our materiel before we conduct any further operations, but the hard part is that we'll have to do it without Crimson knowing.”

“And how will we do that?”

“I'll head out on a special assignment, leaving you in charge. We've done this before, so it won't look too suspicious. While I'm out, I'll take note of all of our UNSC gear at our old LZ and figure out what else is missing, and maybe get some help on this job from the Night Guard. Outside the HQ, at the ambush, the Zebras there seemed somewhat shocked when I depolarized my visor. They called me “Starspawn”, their equivalent of a demon. I'm thinking it's safe to say the Zebras would never work with a thestral. I'll see if a few bats will be willing to help us out. From there, were should be able to set up Chuck Finley, and catch red handed.”

“Your plan sounds solid to me. What should I preoccupy the team with?”

“Training... wargames... that sort. And focus on their long-range accuracy. I mean extreme long-range, a mile plus. You think you can do that?”

“Two to one odds, but I'll take that bet. This will also leave you alone to do this investigation, aside from your thestral friends. You think you can trust them?”

“I've trusted outlaws at Arcadia just fine, and that was notably worse than here. Now, let's regroup and get a ride back home.”

____________________________________________________________________________________________

“So Chuck Finley managed to steal UNSC files?”

“For the most part, which made him my priority target. Not the best position to be in, with a sniper on your tail.”

“If the Admiral heard about such a leak, he wouldn’t wait to get back to Earth for your execution.”

“Good thing we aren’t going back to Earth, then. I’ve made a lot of friends back there, and they will help me. Now, two more things: where’s the motor pool, and why is the Admiral really riding my ass about these mundane details?”

“The motor pool is amidships, C deck, port and starboard. We are currently on G deck, in the aft compartments. And the Admiral thinks that your presence is more than coincidental. It has to do with the Infinity.”

“What does the Infinity have to do with this?”

“It’s actually about the mission that landed you in Equestria, and why it took us so long to get you back.”

“Doctor, stop beating around the bush: what does the Infinity have to do with- Get down! Marine patrol. You think they know of our escape?”

“If not, they will soon.”