The long road home was complete with in-flight entertainment. We all took turns interrogating the HVIs we captured. I made it a point of identifying every inconsistency in their stories by flipping through Sunny's ledger.

We single-handedly (or is it hoofedly?) brought down the entire Cloudsdale Chapter of the Marecago Outfit Mafia in a single day. Al Capony would be pissed, but Baby Face would be scared shit-less. If there is a leak in the CPD, then Chuck Finley would tell Baby Face about it. If not, we'll catch Baby Face with his pants down.

Our legally-questionable interrogation methods netted us some more information about the Well-met Chapter of Al Capony's Mafia. Similar to how Sunny ran the Cloudsdale Chapter, the Well-met Chapter was run by Baby Face. He didn't have too complex of a network, doing most of the work directly.

He stayed at large by doing lots of help for the locals, making it impossible for the police to get reliable information on him. The WMPD (Well-met Police Department) however, doesn't seem to have any sort of information leak. Baby Face primarily gets his revenue from shaking down ships that come to port. With Well-met being a massive port city, plenty of trade is to be had there.

Baby Face's 'toll' doesn't detract much from merchant vessel's profits, but those that don't pay up are liable to get hijacked. Baby Face made the Marecago Outfit the first Mafia in the world to have a dedicated navy. The Marecago Outfit Navy protects the merchant vessels whilst they're in port, and the low toll and great protection makes business preferable to many merchants there.

Baby Face however, uses this trade reputation to commence in acts of pony trafficking, international arms trade, body disposal, and smuggling of illicit goods. If it wasn't for that last little caveat I would probably leave him alone.

His toll, though comparatively low to businesses, nets him millions of bits a year. He uses that money for his own business and for public projects like building schools, railways, churches, casinos, and paving roads. Of course, it is also used to maintain the MON fleet. Because of how isolated Well-met is and how helpful Baby Face is to the locals, very rarely are forces sent to crackdown on him, and those that do are constantly misguided by the locals.

This will need to be a crafty operation.

In Canterlot, we handed the HVIs off to the Royal Guards, who were more than eager to take them into custody. “I take it you had an eventful night on the town?” Celestia asked.

“You don't know the half of it. Save Sunny Capony for us, we'll need him later. And between you and me, there may be a mobster working in the CPD, leaking information to Al Capony's mobsters constantly. I think I've found a way to rout him out. Just screen all mail coming from Cloudsdale for suspicious phrases and wording. I let slip to the CPD that I'm heading to Well-met on a lead. The leak will tell Baby Face about it, to give him fair warning. Also, I'll need a train to Well-met, preferably a freight car.”

“This leak cannot be good news, I'll inform the guard at once.”

“Don't. I'm not entirely sure if that leak is CPD or EAF. It was what got Master Sergeant Liberator killed, but he was in a classified investigation at the time. Only the EAF would know about that, but it would require a leak in the CPD to protect the Mafia as much as they were. I would screen the mail, call it a search for Zebra spy networks. Look for a letter mentioning both Cloudsdale and Well-met. It may only be hinting vaguely at the points, not being blunt, but subtle about the warning. Find the letter, find the leak. Same applies to Zebra spy networks, if they exist.”

“I'll be sure to do that, Joe. And I'm sorry about what happened to Liberator.”

“I'm not. I never knew him, but he was a brother-in-arms and he deserved better. His death allowed the Crimson Guard, my SF team, to take over the investigation. Because of that, and what intel he had gathered beforehand, the entire Cloudsdale Chapter was annihilated literally overnight.”

“I'll be sure to make note of that to his family.”

“Remember: don't name names. A single name from my team and the whole SF team gets routed.”

“Understood, Joe. Thank you.”

“It's always good to be helping.” I walked out of the throne room and made my way over to our underground base.

“Starfire, Lockheart, this is your new home. The main operating base of the Crimson Guard. This here is Spectacles, you know him as Crimson Actual. And... Holy crap! Spectacles, you actually built the entire base while we were gone?”

“Yes, I did! It turned out rather nice, if I do say so myself, but then again, I'm no architect... Why don't you go on in and check it out yourself? It is fantastic, I just need to wire up the Mantis and it'll be on an entirely independent power source!”

“Belay that, Spectacles, we need the Mantis for a new op. So, what is powering this, at present?”

“Oh, just the Castle. Recently the Nerve Center invented some neat stuff and their power generators are running said stuff in the Castle. I'm just intercepting some of the juice. Clever, huh?”

“I'll give you that one, Spectacles. Come on Crimson, let's check out our new living space.”

Inside was everything as Spectacles had laid out: mess hall, gunnery range, comm center (he called this “the Eye”), workshop, barracks, storage, reactor room, and a CIC. Looks like a full-fledged operating base, but underground like a fallout shelter. I like it.

“Nice digs. Thanks, Spectacles.”

“Oh, don't mention it, I was just doing what I always do: research and development. Only here I researched a bunch of stuff on the terminals you brought, and developed it immediately. Kinda nice, if you ask me.”

“Well, I think the team's earned some rest. I'd say maybe... 3 days until we embark upon Well-met?”

Everyone grunted in agreement. I think we've done far more than what was asked of us for the day. Besides, they did well out in the field, I just need to talk to Starfire about explosives. The local caverns should prove an excellent training area for such weaponry.

“Starfire, I need to talk to you about something.”

She walked over, “What is it, sir?”

“From the last mission, it became apparent to me that you are unaware of how to properly apply large amounts of high explosives. I want to make sure you're up to speed on everything before we head to Well-met. We'll be walking into an ambush, after all.”

“I'm sorry, but that was the first time I've ever handled anything that goes 'boom' aside from some fireworks.”

“Then we'll start there. Grab the crate from storage labeled 'HE', and follow me.”

I followed her to storage and grabbed the crate labeled “Survival”. Pizza wrote “MacGyver” across the front with black spray paint. Of course he'd do that. I guided Starfire to a large, open area of the cavern. This would suffice as our new bomb range. Hopefully the residents of Canterlot don't mind minor quakes for the duration of our stay.

“Alright, Starfire, first thing's first: cooking. In here I've got a bunch of neat supplies for any occasion. To the inept, it may seem like useless junk. But to the tactile, it is an armory. I want you to take any three items from here and weaponize them.”

“Uh... what should I grab, sir? It looks like nothing more than ash, cake mix, and salt. And is that petroleum jelly?”

“Yes, it is, and it's entirely up to you what you take.”

“Alright, sir...”

She grabbed some hardtack, the jelly, and the sulfur powder. You can't make a bomb out of that!

“You done goofed.”

“What?”

“Let me show you some basic bomb making.” I grabbed the coal dust, sulfur powder, and salt peter. The ingredients to black powder. I mixed them together carefully, “Remember: don't go too quickly, else it will detonate prematurely. Slower is smoother, smoother is faster. Same goes for reloading firearms.”

She grabbed the same ingredients and started mimicking my actions, “Slower is smoother, smoother is faster...” I heard her repeat.

“Okay. Now that we've got a small charge, place it carefully in a plastic bag, then grab a fuse. Let's see what you've got.”

Charges placed. I lit my fuse first. Ten seconds later, KaBoom. Next I lit hers. Ten seconds, KaBOOM! Damn, that was a lot of bang for not too much buck! Seemed she was a natural with explosives. Come to think of it, the comic blurb on her cutie mark could very well be an explosion that is breaking the board.

“Excellent work, Starfire! You seem to have black powder down nice. Next: dynamite! Or something a bit more stable than that. Just put this mask on and we'll begin.” I handed her a gas mask.

“Yes, sir, that was fun!”

I reached back into the crate. “This is called methylbenzene, or Toluene, as many prefer. It can cause massive neurological damage when inhaled, so keep the mask on. We are going to turn this into something more harmful, so watch closely, and follow my lead.”

She grabbed another bottle of Toluene, her eyes glued on my hands.

“This is also a solvent, so don't touch it either. Now, grab a bottle of nitric acid, and a bottle of sulfuric acid.”

“Is this going to be another chemistry class, because I hate chemistry...”

“This is the fun part of chemistry they don't teach you in schools, and for good reason. Anyone who isn't a professional with this stuff can get seriously hurt by the slightest of errors. In fact, the folks who invented black powder actually did burn their house down with it. They were trying to find an elixir of life.”

“Ha, shows them!”

“As it will show you, if you don't pay attention.” I carefully mixed the three liquids together, nitrating the Toluene. She was a mirror of my actions.

“Next, separate and repeat.” I managed to separate the now-mononitrotoluene, then re-nitrated it into dinitrotoluene. Almost there. “Are you ready for the next step?”

“Sir, what exactly am I doing to this stuff?”

“You are adding Nitrogen atoms to the compound, increasing the explosive yield.”

“Alright, I think I'm ready.”

“Next you just separate the mixture and nitrate it again.”

“Just as before?”

“Pretty much, but follow me through this, we are making high explosives here.”

Everything went smoothly, and we managed to separate out the finished trinitrotoluene, something better known as TNT. We heated what we got into a molten state, then we poured it into various fun little molds. The molds we used were: the classic tube, an ice cube, a tiny dinosaur, and a box. Each explosion of her's was flawless (and I've seen plenty of explosions in my time).

“Looks like you've got TNT down, let's try something with a little more application...”

Over time, I had Starfire producing anything that went boom from T4 and C-12, all the way to anfo and torpex. She was a master at explosives, it just seems that she needed to know how to make them before she could strut her stuff. She even found a way to use unconventional ingredients in explosive manufacturing, like somehow using epsom salts in black powder or petroleum jelly in plastiqué.

All that was left was for her to actually use this new-found knowledge in the field. I told her all I knew about the different types of charges and how explosives are deployed, but I was never a sapper. She would have to learn the rest out in the field.

“Alright, Starfire, that's all I know about explosives. The rest you'll have to figure out on your own.”

“Maybe we can make some fireworks around the holidays, huh?”

“That would be great.” I noticed she stopped calling me 'sir'. Is this because she now views me more of an equal than an authority figure? Maybe. “Why don't you get some rest, I'm sure we've kept the boys up for a while now.”

“Ha, I'll bet.” She flew off in the underground fortress that was the Crimson Guard HQ.

I didn't have anything better to do currently, so I went into the CIC, next to the long range sensors. Still nothing, as always. I should just link this thing to my comm and save the future trips. Nothing else to do now anyways.

While that was doing its thing, I accessed a terminal and patched it into my Mjolnir armor. “Time to update VISR,” I said to no one in particular.

Using combat footage from my neural implant and anatomy files already on record, I managed to develop a model for VISR to identify. Now it should be able to identify a pony just as easy as it would identify anything else. How it determined friend or foe, I still have no clue, but it does. Normally I'd say “magic”, but that apparently actually is a thing here.

Everything done, and the sensor patch finished, I figured it best to turn in for the night. It was 0300 already, so I should be able to get in my five hours. Kinda funny actually, I either get five hours, or twelve hours of sleep, but I can go just as long on either; roughly a week with proper motivation. Motivation just like Jango Fett's.

I stripped down to the gel layer and found everyone else (save for Spectacles, who was analyzing some more UNSC stuff) already asleep on their beds. I found an open bed just down from Pizza and plopped myself down there. Nighty-night.

“Spartans don't leave a job half finished, Crimson,” Palmer's voice rang out in my earpiece. I was back at Apex site, advancing on a Covenant portal network I needed to disable. I saw some UNSC crates to the left.

“Dibs on Sniper!” I called out and sprinted over. The SRS99-S5 AM was a superb weapon. Apex site, I learned from my previous incursion, had long sight lines despite being cavernous and rocky. Captain Mormon lead Chief Petty Officer Richard and Chief Warrant Officer 5 Pizza up the hill and into the cave.

We were somewhat new to the Spartan program, but definitely not green.

I stayed back, being the Ensign with a Sniper Rifle. We were all trained for various weapons, but I had the truest aim. I heard gunfire from Pizza's DMR, Mormon's AR, and Richard's Lightrifle from around the corner. Some Covenant plasma fire erupted when I rounded the corner to meet up with the rest of Fireteam Crimson. I looked left and high.

Jackal Snipers! *BOOM* *BOOM* Double Kill! Two down. “Ghosts incoming!” Mormon said.

“This'll light 'em up!” Richard tossed his Pulse Grenade. *Whoowmpang* The pulse killed the driver of the first. Richard, having the Resistor Package, charged the second, ignoring the incoming fire and hijacked it. He didn't even need his Boltshot. Pizza was the next most adept at alien tech, so he hopped in the first Ghost.

I ran with my Mobility Package, while Mormon was optimized for enduring heavy fire with the Shielding and Explosives packages. Hell, Mormon's armor was even designed to take heavy fire; he had the Soldier helmet, EOD breastplate, Air Assault pauldrons, Recruit vambraces, LG-50 Bulk leggings, and the Pioneer visor. His Brick and White color pattern really made him easy to spot, too.

We reached an energy shield the Covenant set up... along with the patrol that was setting it up. Richard stayed back and peppered the Covie's cover with his Ghost's Plasma Cannons. Pizza was not so patient.

An Elite stuck his Ghost, so Pizza boosted right into the hardpoint, bailing out before impact. The explosion was spectacular. As Pizza rolled back to his feet, my shields indicated I was being hit from behind. I turned to face the threat.

We somehow missed a team of Jackals that were headed down. *BOOM* *BOOM* Double Kill! I made short work of them, and reloaded. Pizza also seemed to find some more Jackals on our left flank and was picking them off.

Roland got on the comm, “You'll need to hit this switch here to overload the Covenant shields.” A waypoint popped up, labeled “Activate”. Mormon ran up and activated the button. There was a rumble. Rumbles are never good.

Roland again, “Get out of there!” *KaBOOM*

Incompetency at almost lethal levels. Not the first, not the last. Why couldn't it be the last?

A massive fireball wrecked the shield. Mormon and Richard were caught in the blast. Mormon's armor took the hit in stride, and Richard's Ghost took the hit for him. For once, luck saved us from Roland.

Without transport, we advanced on to the next objective. The Covies here were also dug in pretty good. *BOOM* Sniper Spree! Their Shade was offline. Mormon and Pizza rushed in to clear out the infantry (mostly Jackals and Grunts) and shutdown the portal while Richard stayed back to support me; Elite's shields can endure a sniper round, but anything on top of that will defeat them.

Booyah! A General walked into view from the opposite side of the Shade. *POW*

*BOOM* Down he went. “Objective complete,” Mormon radioed. He ran around the corner and took point. The caverns here were rather long...

We were about halfway through the cave when- “Sniper!” Mormon called out. I scoped in. CZSHH *BOOM* What was that first sound? I scoped out. My God...

A leader fallen in combat.

The Captain was in two halves. A Spec Ops Elite was clutching the blade that did it. Everything was deafened, my vision tunneled. My heart raced.

I did nothing.

I locked up. My CO is dead, that puts me in charge. But he can't be dead, right? We've made it so far without any losses, so he can't be dead... right?

The Elite collapsed quickly under our focused fire and Pizza's knife, but I didn't take note of who dropped him. I can't even recall pulling the trigger.

“Mormon... are you with us?” I prayed more than said.

“Not... for long...” he replied. My heart skipped a beat. He was still alive after that? “He... got me good. Did you get... the sniper?”

“Yes, sir. We got 'em.”

“Good... I guess my Regen Field ain't gonna cut it right now, huh?”

“Sir, you're our medic. You're our commander. You're our friend, no... family. We're in this together. You will pull through... you have to!”

“Nah... You're in command now, Joe. I'm sure... they're in good hands.”

“Sir... I don't want to lose you...”

“You won't. I'll be... expired, but I'll live on. You die twice, you know... With how painful this one is... The next one will probably be a paradise...”

“What do I do sir? How will I lead Crimson?”

“You just need to wake up, Joe. Please, wake up!”

“What-”

I awoke in a pool of my own sweat being suspended against my skin due to the gel layer. Mormon almost sounded like Luna at the end there. I checked my clock. 0700. Only got four hours in. I looked around, exhausted.

Everyone else was asleep, so I went ahead and got suited up. Best to walk off the nightmare.

Outside I found Luna waiting for me in the early morning air. “Did you sleep well?” I asked.

“No, having seen your nightmare.”

“So you can see my dreams, huh?”

“Yes, but what were those monstrous creatures?”

“Remember what I told you about the Human-Covenant War?”

“Oh, I'm sorry.”

“Don't be, we won. It's those loyalist fucks under 'Mdama's command that still think the war is on. They're the ones who killed Mormon.”

“About that... he must have meant a lot to you?”

“Hell, he taught me how effective an AR can be when burst fired, and showed me how powerful the Magnum really is. He was my Captain, I was his Ensign.”

“You said you were family?”

“Brothers-in-arms are brothers for life. That's why I still run with Pizza. He enlisted alongside me into the Spartan program. He found me after Harvest, but he wasn't there for the glassing. We hit it off like something special when we met each other at Miridem. He was a Reach native, so we've both lost our homes to the Covenant. None of us were there for Reach's last stand, though.”

“What's Reach? And what happened to Captain Mormon?”

“Same story: dead and gone. Reach, Epsilon Eridani was glassed in late 2552. It'll be uninhabitable until the 2580s, and that's with lots of terraforming efforts and generous estimates. Mormon was taken back to the Infinity for a full burial ceremony. Turns out he had no known family, they were wiped out in New Mombasa when Earth was invaded. Can't believe he kept that from us for so long...”

“It must've been hard for you.”

“The 19th century whiskey he willed to us made things a bit easier, but nothing has quite filled the hole he left. On Requiem we could cope with it by ignoring it. There was always something to do, no time to think about the fallen. Afterwords... not so much. I think that's why Palmer sent us here, as a retreat more than a mission.”

“It seems that it has been anything but.”

“True, but I'm a lifer for a reason, same with Pizza: we like the fight. Not so much for the war; that's terrible. We like it for the valor. Nothing can ever be so beautiful as a man volunteering himself so that no one else has to, because someone has to.”

“Sounds... like an odd stance to take on such a matter...”

“Hell, I'm the only one who wears blue in Fireteam Crimson. I'm just the rifleman of the team. Mormon was the medic. Richard was the tech specialist. Pizza is the CQC killer. Me? I'm a nobody compared to what they can do... did.”

“I think it is best not to think about Mormon, to avoid the fright that is sure to come. Can you promise me that?”

“Never. You heard his words: 'You die twice, you know'. That second death isn't some kind of reincarnation, it's his memory. When Mormon's name is uttered for the last time, he has then died his second death.”

“I see, but how does this cope with loss?”

“You should know that nothing can replace a lost loved one. It leaves a permanent hole in your heart, but it's a bit like a carving on a tree. It doesn't get any smaller, or hurt any less. It stays the same as when you first got it, only as you grow, it becomes a smaller part of you. Eventually, it is those losses that define you: who you loved, laughed with, and grew together with. Everything leaves a scar...”

“I take it you've studied over this matter for some time?”

“Countless hours, in fact. It didn't help that we lost Richard shortly thereafter, on our way to free the Infinity from Requiem. Him we couldn't recover. We didn't even have a second left to spare, and he was incinerated by a Knight Lancer.”

“Sounds like an absolute nightmare to live through...”

“That's what war is: Hell. I even seen a psychiatrist about Mormon and Richard shortly after Requiem. She determined that I have 'mildly sociopathic tendencies'. Just like the Spartan-IIs of legend. I'm not sure what she said about Pizza, though. When I checked the definition of 'sociopath', I fit it like a glove.”

“That was probably disquieting to you.”

“Not really. I was rather unsurprised about such a point. It was merely expected, nothing more.”

“You have definitely been through a great journey. Hope things get better for you.”

“The 'Great Journey' is what the Covenant was preaching about when they saw it fit to exterminate humanity. And things always get better.”

“Oh... I'm sorry. I'd best be off, the moon will not raise itself.” Luna flew off into the the twilight sky. Funny, on Earth, it did. Two days until departure for Well-met. Hopefully the war effort was going smoothly now that Cloudsdale has been freed up.

Maybe that's what I need... someone to talk to about all these problems of mine. A close someone. With an outside perspective.

I'm getting too philosophical again... better RTB before some upper-class snob spots me wandering the streets. All soldiers in Equestria, by dual order of the Princesses, agreed to keep my existence a secret, at least until a later date. That day was coming.

Inside I found Spectacles passed out at a terminal. The others were still asleep, so I scooped up the tired egghead and found a bed for him. He's definitely deserved the rest he's getting.

Time for breakfast! Let's see what we've got: MRE, MRE, MRE, hardtack, MRE, and, ooh an MRE! I think I'll go with the 'not here' option. The sun was just cresting the horizon when I set out to see what I could snag from the Castle.

The guards were easy to get by (I outrank them after all). In the main entrance, I turned left, and went through a door underneath the stairs to the upper landing. Inside was the royal kitchen, with only one chef. I guess MidRats aren't too common a thing here, then?

The chef hadn't spotted me yet so I decided to play the stealth game with him. What? I needed some fun in my life! My prize lay close to my left: the royal fridge of delicious! It would surely tell the chef I was here if I tried to open it. I need a distraction.

I found a saucer laying on the table between me and the chef. I grabbed it and tossed it across the kitchen, to my right. *Crash* It shattered and the chef immediately looked over to his right, at the broken ceramic plate. He started walking towards it. I made my move.

I opened the fridge and found... nothing. Just more stuff I couldn't eat, but that which a horse probably could. I was honestly expecting cake. Mission failed. I snuck out of the kitchen and out of the Castle.

Well, if I wanted the blandest food ever devised by man I could always settle for the hardtack. If I wanted something that actually has the luxury of flavor, I'd have to find it, and soon. Looking towards the horizon, I would estimate an hour or two before folks would start to wander about. Not enough to find anything that I could harmlessly steal. Maybe tomorrow? Tomorrow, I agreed with myself. Ha, 'mildly' sociopathic she said! Or is that insanity?

I was almost in the base when I saw a thestral land next to me, cargo in tow. “Sir, requested supplies for the Crimson Guard, sir!”

“That's me, soldier. You can leave it here.”

“Yes, sir!” Something was non-standard about his devotion to duty; it was too great. Come to think of it, every thestral I've met is like that compared to Royal Guards. Better ask Luna about that next time I see her. I may want a thestral or three on my team by war's zenith.

In the crate was a bunch of saddles with mouth bits and some sort of weapon system mounted to it. Not quite the armor I was hoping for, but a step in the right direction. I left the crate in the CIC, against the North wall, across from the long range sensor.

I made my way to the mess, checking my weapons before entering, as is standard operating procedure. Colonel Lockheart was there along with Fencing. It looked like they were trying to figure out how best to eat the hardtack. It took me a while my first time, too. I grabbed an MRE.

Beef ravioli! Oh yeah, luck is once again on my side! I tossed it into a heating packet and added some water, to start the chemical reaction. I let the food heat up as I found a seat next to Lockheart, across from Fencing. “I find that hardtack is easiest to swallow when mixed with a choice beverage. The thing is baked three times, after all.”

“Why would anypony ever invent something like this?” Fencing wondered.

“Well, there is a slab of the stuff in a museum back on Earth that has been around for 610 years. It's still edible from what I hear.”

“Wow, what did they make this out of, nails?”

“Flour and salt, mixed in water, then baked multiple times. Ain't delicious, but it'll last through almost anything. You can survive off of it for a while, but these MREs have everything you'll need to last as long as the meals do. Only an MRE has a shelf life of roughly three years, but I've seen 'em last ten with proper storage.”

“So what's in one of your MREs, then?”

“It's random nowadays. MREs are just stuffed into the same style of khaki bag. They've stopped labeling them once a whole regiment worth of REMFs started hoarding all the candy about a decade ago. Thus far, no one has complained any more than usual about them.”

“So whaddya get in this one? And what's with the bag?”

“I lucked out and got some beef ravioli, the bag is a chemical heater that reacts when wet. Makes most of the MREs much better.”

“Beef?” both Lockheart and Fencing seemed to pause a little. Maybe they're stalwart vegans?

“Yes, beef. What's the matter with that? Aside from this whole dietary difference across species.”

“I don't believe I've heard that word much before. As I recall it had something to do with cows?” apparently not even Lockheart knew what 'beef' is. Probably because they're horses and it is a term commonly used in food.

“Yes, Lockheart, it does. The meat from cows, specifically.”

“You're eating a cow?!” now they both seemed shocked.

“Different cultures, colts. Besides, the cows the UNSC has aren't sentient, unlike what I've heard about the local bovines.”

“And you think calling it a cultural difference is justification for it?” Lockheart seemed hellbent on winning this culinary conflict.

“Well, when you lose almost half of your species in a war, then you can tell me all about eating that which is well within your natural diet. You may not like it, but there are also some other differences I don't take too kindly about your culture for. And you're a soldier! Death should be no matter to you.”

“I think it might be best if we just turn a blind eye to this... so long as you don't get any 'fresh' supplies.”

“That would be the best course of action, Colonel. I don't intend on getting fresh supplies, either. Besides the heifer I'm chowing down on now is already dead. It isn't like not eating the beef will bring it back. You can't fix dead.”

Fencing broke the truce somewhat, “What about our culture don't you like?”

“The list is mostly nitpicks: you worship only one of your leaders as though they are a goddess, you have two leaders of equal rank, you're a monarchy of sorts, your monarchy is headed by princesses instead of kings and queens, you don't have much technology, there is no death sentence, and some things in your diet I just do not find particularly appetizing.”

“Just drop it, Fencing. Every little cultural difference will vanish with all due time. As of now, it is no point to quarrel over; we're both on the same side here,” and Pizza entered the fray.

All of us just nodded at what he had to say, then went back to our meals. Lockheart and Fencing finally took my advice on the hardtack and were dunking it in some coffee. Pizza had something to say, “Spectacles is up and tinkering away. He said that since the guns arrived, he'd like the team to test 'em out for him. I was also thinking that we should give the kill-house upstairs a good breaking-in. What do you think?”

“Sounds like a plan to me. Is it ready for CTF, or should we grind the grunts?”

“It's set for CTF, but I was thinking we should run through multiple different exercises.”

“Agreed. Maybe we could do VIP, CTF, then wrap it up with something like Infection?”

“You're the boss,” Pizza knew that also discouraged me.

“Fair enough. I'll check up on Spectacles, you set up the war games.”

We finished our meals, then left the mess. Pizza took the stairs up to the kill-house and I went right, towards the workshop. The racket inside told me Spectacles was eagerly at work. I wouldn't be surprised if he woke the entire team. I'll add soundproofing as soon as he invents it.

“Howdy, Spectacles. What are you making this time around?”

“Oh hello, Joe. I'm building the armor you requested, but I can't seem to solve this whole power problem. The joints require more power than can be carried via batteries in the armor. How does your armor do it?”

“Mjolnir uses a nuclear fusion reactor for power. Too bad Equestria doesn't have that kind of tech yet. Maybe you could use some sort of magic crystal instead?”

“Oh, don't be ridiculous... You can't have unicorn magic in crystal form... unless...”

“Unless what, Spectacles?”

“Well, when I checked over Zebra culture, I noticed it mentioned they used talismans, enchanted gems, as their own means of magic. There are a wide variety of enchantments, but I'll need to find out how to enchant something first. I might get the armor done ahead of schedule if that is the case.”

“They look like something from Hobart's Funnies; not the most aesthetically pleasing, but functionally superb. You get those enchantments figured out and then we'll be in business.”

“Yes, sir. This is going to be fantastic if it works, if not, then it'll be exciting!”

I left him to tinker on his own. I grabbed the new guns he moved down here. “Are these those new prototype rifles you mentioned a while back?”

“Yes, that they are! I designed them based off of a saddle. I think Equestrian infantry should be able to handle that adequately enough.”

“How do they work, aside from how guns normally operate? We may need to use these sooner than you think.”

Sooner it was. Capture the Flag! I was leading Alpha squad against Pizza's Beta squad. The team was locked and loaded with TTR rounds. We had the time limit set to five minutes, I'd like to make this fast.

The spawn room shields dropped and I rushed out of Red Base, heading right, to the MG nest. The gun wasn't there, but it was still a hardpoint. I saw Fencing and Spectacles head opposite of me, through the CQC area. I waited, camping out our flag.

I looked from left to right, hearing pockets of gunfire erupt from beyond the wall to my front. Spectacles walked out, covered in paint, he dropped down via the flag, as the spawns were strictly one-way. He'd have to clean off that paint before he could re-enter via Red Base (that's how we determined it best to respawn). I looked right just in time to see Starfire duck back behind another wall. I dropped down from the hardpoint.

I saw a paint grenade fly through the air towards where I was. *KaBOOM* Definitely Starfire's work. I saw her run around the corner, assuming I was fragged. *BAM BAM BAM* She took three TTR rounds to the face. Ouch...

I heard some hoof steps from my left. I spun around and took aim. Fencing. “Sir, I got Pizza, but think they'll try a flank next. What's the plan?”

“Push through to their flag, I'll escort you there, then we split up on the way back. They'll have to go through us to capture our flag. Spectacles should be back soon anyways.”

“Yes, sir.”

I pointed forward, through where Starfire had come from. Fencing took the lead. I followed.

*Ratatat!* A three-round burst from one of Spectacles' new guns struck Fencing in the flank, chest, and ear. Not very accurate, if you ask me. It sounded similar to the MA5D.

I pressed my back up against the wall Fencing had passed through. I watched him trot on by. I studied the impacts.

All three shots came from the same rifle. Given the areas hit, the Tango would have to be pressed against the same wall I am. I rounded the corner, BR raised.

*BAM BAM BAM* Kill confirmed, Lockheart: KIA. He walked back to the Blue flag. Just to the right of my objective was the Blue spawn room, and Pizza and Starfire walking out of it.

I used my Thruster Pack to close the distance- *BAM BAM BAM* Double Kill! -firing at the further target during the boost. Pizza went down, seeing as shields weren't allowed just yet against the recruits. Now it was Starfire and I in CQC, not Pizza (I'd be screwed if that were the case!).

Starfire swung a right hoof at me. I blocked it with my left arm and fire the BR from the hip with the right. *BAM BAM BAM* Triple Kill! She went down again. I sprinted along with Pizza and Starfire towards the Blue flag. No loitering was allowed in the enemy base, so it was grab and go.

Flag Taken! I had to sling my BR to carry the flag, but my Magnum would prove an excellent replacement. I ran back as fast as I could. En route I saw Spectacles, who promptly started following me.

Gunfire popped behind me, Spectacles taking a few rounds that had my name on 'em. Almost there... Flag Captured! Game Over! Victory!
Bingo. I dropped down to the lower level and found Fencing almost done cleaning the paint off his ass. “We won that match right quick, huh?”

“Oh yeah, and it was FUN! What's next, sir?”

“Once everyone else gets here, we can give you the rundown on what's to come.”

Infection! The Red Base's shields dropped and I rushed out, Pizza by my side. We flanked to the left, into the CQC area. I hid in one dead-end room, Pizza in another. It was us two versus Fencing, Starfire, Spectacles, and Lockheart. Their mission was to eliminate the instructors, ours was to survive for five minutes.

No respawns for us, unlimited for them. Since when was that fair? We sat in silence. I regulated my breathing like a sniper to slow my heart. The reduced noise from breathing should make me harder to find, but this wasn't a big area. I was pressed against the wall, next to the doorway.

I could hear hoofsteps passing by... nearing... nearing... right there! Fading... fading... They passed. *tink* sounded like a grenade bouncing off the floor... oh, crap! *KaBOOM*

Infected! My armor was covered in red paint. I slung my BR and walked out of the room, exaggerating my footsteps so Pizza could hear. Sure enough, Starfire fragged me, but Pizza knew as much. Lockheart was also out there. “Excuse me, Colonel,” I said as I passed him, hoping Pizza could hear his rank and note his location.

I was down with not even a minute off the clock. I was slipping! Pizza was still up there, somewhere. I had to stay down here until one side won.

“Glad to see you, Joe.”

“Luna, good morning.”

“Judging by the explosions, everything is fine?”

“Yes, ma'am. We're just running through some combat sims, getting ready for heavier combat. So what brings you down here?”

“I was hoping you could come with me to the Shades, the home of the Night Guard.”

“I was wondering, what's with the Night Guard? I don't mean bad by it, I'm just curious about why they seem far more dedicated than the Royal Guard.”

“That would be due to the recruitment process. Ex-cons and those with nothing left. I give them a chance at what they thought they could never have, and they serve loyally for it. I covertly monitor their dreams prior to selection, then give them the location of the Shades in their dreams. Nopony actually knows its location aside from the Night Guard.”

“So why do you need me in the Shades?”

“There is a new spell that needs to be tested, and I was hoping you'd volunteer.”

“You know it. So what does it do anyway?” we started walking out of Crimson HQ.

“It's a transmogrifying spell. It should change the subject into a pony.”

“Sounds painful enough. I take it you think this will make everything a lot easier for me to do covertly?”

“That is correct, though I made sure the scientists there already have a reverse spell figured out, in case if 'things go South', as you would say.”

“That I would. Glad to see you've got a Plan B ready before Plan A begins.”

“The only caveat of it is it needs a sample subject to turn the target subject into, and that it requires about as much magic as that individual possesses to cast it. Reversing it is easy enough, and can be done at any time.”

“So I take it that I won't be an alicorn?”

“Only if Celestia were to cast it could it work like that, so no. There is already a volunteer in the Shades, waiting for your arrival.”

“How long do you think this will last? I planned on having some more vigorous training with my team.”

“It will take several days, five at the minimum.”

“We're supposed to take down Baby Face in Well-met in two, and that's counting today. The current war game ends in two minutes, and I also plan on bringing down Al Capony later this week. Later would be fine with me, but right now I do have higher priorities than testing.”

“Understood, Joe. When you're ready, come see me... alone.”

“Alone?”

“The Night Guard is a rather exclusive group, and I want to keep those who know about the Shades to a minimum. Plus, I have my reasons...”

“Oh, well then, milady. Ahem. I'll let you know as soon as I'm ready. I eagerly await the day...”

“I didn't mean like that! Different reasons!” we were both red-faced with that little bit of conversation. I'm not entirely sure how that kind of relationship would work out, though. Unless if it was after the transmogrifying spell. Creep factor: 8.3.

VIP Killed! Game Over! Defeat! Just what I expected having Spectacles be our VIP. He definitely was not fit for combat. He got two betrayals and no kills during the instructor elimination round and in this round of VIP.

That was, however, our last competitive kill-house war game. “Pizza, reset the kill-house for noncompetitive play. I'll take everyone to the range to better their firing discipline.”

“Right away, Joe!”

This time I had the team load up with FMJ. Thinking back on Spectacles' shoddy performance, I probably should walk through basic weapon safety before we engage some traffic cones. We didn't didn't have any cardboard cut-outs yet, but we do have a surplus of otherwise useless traffic cones. I like to call one of 'em Skiddy (he's evil).

“Alright, ladies, listen up. I take it that this is your first time handling an actual firearm, so I'll walk you through basic weapon safety. Any questions?”

Fencing spoke up, “Sir, is this anything like handling a crossbow?”

“I'm not sure, I've never handled one of those archaic devices. Best to pay attention then.”

“Understood, sir.”

I showed them how to secure their weapons: safety on, eject magazine, cycle bolt, and lock the bolt if you like. Next I showed them never to put your finger on the trigger unless if you want to destroy whatever is downrange; they were using mouth bits instead, but the principle holds strong.

“Since our weapons are already secure, let's go through basic maintenance as well.” I showed them how to remove the locking pins, allowing the upper and lower receivers to detach, splitting the weapon in two. Next up: Pull the charge handle back slightly, then remove bolt carrier. The charging handle followed shortly thereafter.

Then I walked them through removing the buffer and spring. Then we returned to the bolt carrier and removed the firing pin, “This is what makes the magic happen... not your kind of magic, the fun kind.” The I walked them through removing the cam pin and bolt from the bolt carrier. Finally I removed the extractor from the bolt. “And that's that.”

Starfire spoke, “Seems rather complex for a weapon system...”

“Trust me, these things can kill with a single well-placed shot. The sharpened sticks the Royal Guard was using before just won't cut it. This firearm is your life on the battlefield. It will be the bane of your enemy, and the pity of your comrades, so long as it keeps running.”

“I take it a single one of these guns can have a single soldier rival an entire fusillade of Neighpolean's finest,” Col Lockheart commented.

“That is correct, and these are only small arms. The more advanced stuff, or even the heavy stuff, could decimate an entire regiment. Hell, Fencing, you've seen us stave off an entire invasion fleet with just a laser, a cannon, and a few autocannons.”

The team all nodded in agreement, having seen what we can do at All-Can-Tries.

“Crimson, just make sure you keep these parts clean, well-oiled, and in good repair. Dirty: it jams, most commonly when you need it not to. Dry as the Sahara: it'll seize up and shut down. In disrepair: it'll literally blow up in your face. A poorly maintained weapon is more dangerous to yourself than a frag in your foxhole. Trust me, I've heard stories about a teen who survived two frags before body armor was commonplace.”

“Must've been standing way far away...” Starfire commented.

“He was right on top of them, something about the black sands of Iwo Jima saved him. His buddies found him a couple days later, and he lived on to be the only person to enroll as a freshman in highschool who had received a Congressional Medal of Honor, but that was 600 years ago, not today.”

“Wow...” the whole squad was awestruck at that piece of ancient Earth history.

“Don't get any ideas: he broke more than a few ribs. Anyways, get a cleaning kit and scrub your weapons down, then we'll rendezvous at the shooting range.” I cleaned my weapon with the kind of speed and autonomy from a thousand practiced drills and field deployments. It only took me about a minute.

I was popping rounds downrange when Starfire walked in, weapon sparkling clean. She seems to learn rather fast, compared to the rest of the squad... we're getting a little bit too big to be called a squad for much longer, huh?

“Five minutes, not bad for only having been around firearms as of today.”

“Gracias. What are we doing now?”

“At present, we're going to be trying to take down some rather close targets: traffic cones for now-” click “and it looks like it's your turn on the range. Since it is your first time with live ammo, I would recommend more caution than normal for you. Keep your weapon pointed downrange until you run out of FMJ ammunition.”

“Sir, what does FMJ stand for?”

“Full Metal Jacket. It uses the standard lead core, coated in copper, because the high-velocity propellants used in smokeless ammunition burns hot enough to melt lead, but not copper. It minimizes penetration, but unlike other ammo types that minimize collateral damage, it isn't banned from war.”

“Ammo types?”

“There are several different ammo types: FMJ, Armor Piercing, Shredder, Depleted Uranium, Explosive, Incendiary, Wad Cutter, Boat Tail, Tracer, Sabot, HEAT, Taser, Jacketed Soft Point, Hollow Point, Tandem Warhead, Shaped Charge, Napalm, Slugs, Buckshot, Flechette, Dragon's Breath, Bolo, Rhodesian Jungle, Pitbull, even full-sized arrows, Harpoons, Rocket Ball, Frangible, and just about any combination of those, too.”

“Sounds like a lot of variety in a small little package!”

“And that's not even a full list. Most of that stuff is for other weapon systems, but we'll get around to them eventually. For now, we'll be using FMJ, the least spectacular of all the ammo types.”

“Aww, and I thought I was going to have to get some popcorn...”

“Nah, we'll be having too much fun for that stuff. Come on up, I'll walking you through proper shooting techniques.”

She came up, aimed downrange, and got ready to fire. I did my best to adapt my knowledge of shooting stances to that of equines. Progress will be made!

I had her take a steady stance, something that could absorb recoil just fine. Then I had her sight her target before engaging. There were only three cones, so I decided to call out which one she should shoot. I couldn't think of anything else for equine weapon handling, they physically cannot easily get in a poor firing stance, being quadrupeds.

“The one in the back,” I called out.

Ratatatatatatatatat!
“Cease fire! You're way off target, plus you need to fire in short, controlled bursts. Ammo is the other precious metal, and you'll need every last ounce of it in the fight.” She hadn't even hit the 100 yard cone with that burst. This time I decided to keep a closer eye on her during the shooting.

“Engage!”

Ratatat! Ratatat! Ratatat!
Miss, on all counts. She was closing her eyes when firing, and she was tensing up while pulling the trigger. Double foul, ref. Red card! Red card!

“Alright, Starfire, there's a few things wrong here. I can tell firearms aren't your forte. Look at me this time, closely.” I grabbed my BR off my back, slapped a fresh mag in, and took my helmet off, she'd have to see my eyes for this.

I shouldered my rifle, aiming down its sights. “First: I noticed you were tensing up while pulling the trigger. This will cause your shots to go wild. Do not anticipate the recoil, your stance will handle that.” *BAM BAM BAM* And the cone took three hits. “Additionally, don't close your eyes when you pull the trigger, keep both open: one for the sights, the other for situational awareness. If you close 'em, you may end up hitting friendlies.” *BAM BAM BAM* Another three hits. “Your turn.”

Ratatat!
She took to my advice well, her burst put three new holes in the furthest cone, but I didn't need to be sniper to see that she had a wide grouping. “I hit it!” she let out a cheer.

“That you did, but your precision is lacking, and I would consider this close-quarters. That is not a good thing. Tell you what, sometime I'll take Crimson to the Whitetail for some longer-range practice.”

“That would be great!” she seemed rather happy at having hit something. Fencing joined us and I had Starfire secure her weapon.

Everything was pretty much the same for the whole team, only worse for Spectacles who kept on saying he'd never have to be a skilled marksman, being on-base the whole time, and better for Lockheart who took to it like a duck to water. Pizza had finally set up the targets upstairs and found us in the range. Pizza and I have been working together for a couple decades now... Maybe we could demo some of the heavier guns we've got? That'd be perfect.

“Pizza, you up for some HMG practice?”

“Hell yeah, Joe. You know me.”

“Alright Crimson, pay attention. Some of you may end up needing to man a Machine Gun at some point in this war.” That caught their attention. They gathered to our left and right, Pizza behind the trigger, me feeding the ammo. We were prone for this one. “Now, in the field, if you're manning one of these things, a lot of bad folk would really like to change that and it is paramount that they don't. An important part of this is minimizing your cross-section, or how much can be seen of you.”

I overlapped my right leg with Pizza's left, “This is a position I prefer for both MG and Sniper work. It keeps the crew very close, making the overall crew smaller and harder to see. Another thing: you need to keep feeding the rounds into the MG. It may seem like it'll do it automatically, because it will, but it is likely to jam when doing so. I would recommend a crew of three: one for the gun, two for the fun, and three for the spree.”

Pizza translated that last part, “One to keep the gun firing, another to feed the ammo and minimize jams, and a third to get extra ammo. Now, it is possible for one man to perform all of these actions alone, but not indefinitely.”

“Lockheart, call out the targets you want us to engage.”

“Right,” he called.

Pizza grabbed onto the Traverse and Elevation controls and moved the gun on target. *BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM* The cone was obliterated. Minus one surplus cone. I called back to the team, “Keep in mind that only an idiot freely spins a stationary gun around. It has something called the T&E which is used to aim it. This gun's max range is roughly five miles, but don't expect to kill anything at that range, it's mostly just for suppression at that point.”

Pizza had something to add, “If it is a Light Machine Gun, it might not have a T&E, so just go nuts. Also, if the baddies get within spitting distance, I would recommend you move the gun. If you've been runnin' the thing hot, you'll need a bit of assistance to move it about, either that or you could just man up, like this.”

Pizza stood up, slipping past my leg and picking up the HMG. He had the right trigger grip in his right hand and the carry handle in his left. He carried the weapon around with more than a fair amount of effort. The gun weighs 130 lbs, if you count the ammo box on its side.

“Normally you would take it apart, but if you're strong enough, the carry handle is plenty.”

*BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM* *BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM* There goes our last traffic cones...

“Keep that in mind, Crimson. The Mafia in Well-met will be dug in, and may have looted a few of these guns off of some shipping. Your armor may not be able to take their firepower for too long, so stay behind me when the time comes,” I said.

“Until then, the range is open for you, so you'd best use it while you can. Find a speck of something and aim for it, and then try to stack your rounds on top of one another. Be safe, be lethal. And remember when reloading: slower is smoother, smoother is faster,” Pizza added.

“Spectacles, you're with me, we need that armor done by tomorrow.”

The rifle reports kept on reverberating throughout the base, but in the workshop was a fighting work of art. It looked like some ancient concept of power armor, maybe 21st century US Army projections. It didn't use synthetic muscles like Mjolnir, but powered joints like the Cyclops, allowing anyone to operate it if they knew how (which I did, if it was anything like a Cyclops or Mantis).

“Is it finished?” I asked Spectacles.

“Yes, and another is almost done, but I don't think I'll have enough resources for a third, let alone a fourth. Equestria is just starting to industrialize, after all, so a lack of Titanium AA and hardened steel alloys is understandable. So what do you think?”

“It still looks like it belongs in the Hobart's Funnies: downright fugly, but functional beyond belief. It looks like it'll get the job done, though. But for the lack of suits, I guess you and Fencing will stay behind for the trip to Well-met. You'll play the commander role again, and I guess Fencing will just relax for the time being. Once the other suit gets finished, we'll run a live-fire exercise in the kill-house. I want to be sure that they can take heavy fire...”

“Yes, but they are prototypes, so I do plan on making several upgrades to it. The final version will be much more like Mjolnir. Just be sure to tell me all about how they perform, it'll help further development. Ooh! I'm getting my inventions field-tested after just two days of them being finished! This is exciting!”

“Glad to be helping. Pizza, go get Starfire. I want to see how she can handle the powered assault armor.”

“Right away, Joe.”

I walked Starfire through what I knew of Power Armor, specifically of the Cyclops. It seemed I was all tutorials today, huh? Anyway, it took her some getting-used-to, but she eventually managed to maneuver in the armor quite nimbly. Not very dexterously nor fast, but her strength and endurance were greatly amplified, though she couldn't use her wings in it.

Time for another test.

“Alright, Starfire. I'm going to shoot you to test the defensive plating on the armor. I want to make sure it can take a hit before it has to. Are you ready?”

“Wouldn't it be easier to shoot it with me out of it?”

“Yes, but you wouldn't know what it's like to actually be shot, plus the armor may translate forces through to the operator. This would be a big problem in Well-met. I'm not going to go for a lethal hit, just one on your hind, left leg.”

“Why the leg?”

“If it comes down to it, you could remain in the fight as an airborne asset even without all four legs working, plus your forelegs are used much more commonly than the hind legs.”

“Well, I guess I'm ready then...”

I loaded an FMJ round into the Mighty Magnum, double checking it was there in the chamber. The mobsters wouldn't have access to quite as diverse a set of ammo as we would, so I estimated FMJ, the same kind I encountered in Cloudsdale. “Alright, on three.

“One-” *BAM* The round bounced off, embedding itself in the floor. Looks like the armor will hold.

“I thought you said 'on three'?!”

“I did, but anticipation can lead to placebos. This way, you felt exactly what you normally would. So what did it feel like?”

“I didn't feel a thing, maybe like a bee sting?”

“Spectacles, you're a son of a bitch,” I said, grinning under my visor.

“What? Did I do something wrong?” he responded.

Pizza interjected, “That was a compliment. We've sort of picked up some Marine humor from serving alongside them for so long. You'll know when we mean bad by it, this not being an incident of such.”

“Aah, so I did good?”

“You did fantastic, Spectacles.”

It looked like the armor prototypes would work. As I left the workshop, I noticed Spectacles had labeled the designs “Steel Ranger – Mk. I Prototype”. Steel Ranger... I liked that name. Where was he when we needed a squad name?

I found Princess Celestia and Luna in the throne room at the dawn of the next day. I needed to discuss Plan B with them. “Celestia, Luna, this is the eve of an assault on the Mafia. The target is Well-met, HVI: Baby Face. I know they're waiting for us there, and that's what I'm counting on. However, I have no Plan B at present. Do you think the Equestrian Navy will be able to help remove a thorn from their side?”

“What are you getting at, Joe?” Celestia asked.

“Milady, my Plan A involves the Crimson Guard getting ambushed by Baby Face's goons. Plan B will be if we can't handle Baby Face's forces and fight our way out of the trap, we are to call Naval artillery on their strong points, and have a blockade runner bypass their Marecago Outfit Navy, and evac Crimson so that we can try again another day.”

Luna seemed a bit surprised, “Your plan is to walk into a trap?”

“One thing they teach you in Spartan training is: if you find yourself in a trap, you need to fight harder than you ever fought before to survive. Another thing is: if we're surrounded, that means we don't need to worry about where our lead will be flying. I'm confident that Baby Face would evacuate the town before our arrival, minimizing civilian casualties.”

“So your plan is to walk into a trap.”

“Yes, ma'am. We will have superior armor the likes of which has never been seen before. They won't even leave a dent in it. Just tell the Navy that red smoke marks the bad guys.”

“I'll be sure to send a Task Force over there immediately, but how will you get there?”

“We will arrive via train, in a car clearly marked 'Crimson Guard'.”

It seemed that everything was in order. We said our goodbyes and departed. My team still had 24 hours to train for the ultimate firefight. Deep behind enemy lines... Surrounded on all sides... Just me, my gun, and a whole lot targets. This was starting to sound like my 105th days, and I considered those guy crazy!

Back at base, Spectacles had finished the last Steel Ranger suit. Starfire and Pizza were helping Lockheart figure out how to use power armor. It looked like he was almost getting the hang of it.

“You know, back in my day... armor was just a slab of gold that you wore on your torso. Not contoured Titanium plating that was on your everything,” Lockheart said.

“Well, get used to it. There will be a lot more of the Steel Rangers by war's end,” I countered.

Alright, everything seemed set. Lockheart was suited up and up to speed on Powered Assault Armor. Starfire was already rocking her armor like a pro. Pizza and I were Spartans, so we were set from when we touched down in the Whitetail. Time for some War Games.

SWAT! No shields, no motion sensor. Just me, my gun, and a whole lot of headshots... um... better not go with that rule just now. “Remember: body-shots only. Aim for center mass, these are real bullets we're using this time, but your armor should hold against light arms fire. No explosives. And happy hunting,” I radioed to Pizza, Lockheart, and Starfire.

For tactical reasons (and team balancing), I placed Lockheart with Pizza. One tactician, one Spartan. Starfire and I were on Blue Team this time. One tactician, one Spartan (even if I was also the tactician).

Starfire and I chambered a round simultaneously. The shields dropped.

We charged out, myself leading. We were headed left, to the MG Nest. I got to the corner and halted, motioning for Starfire to stack up. I needed a mirror, Red does have faster access to the MG Nest and I don't want to walk into a trap just yet. Tomorrow definitely, but not today.

The only reflective surface I had on hand was may pretty little visor. Fat chance I'll use that. “Starfire, do you have a compact? I need something reflective.” Sure enough she did... and on her combat armor no less. Not going to question that.

I held it around the corner, peaking at the Nest. Nothing. They're not there. They probably went left as well, which is what I'd've done if I were them. Need to think like the enemy: Pizza is a CQC expert, so they'll fight in the CQC area. I'm a marksman, so they'll expect me to fight from range. They would wait me out, or I them. This would be interesting.

They would expect me to take the Nest, so I won't do that, no matter how tactical it might be. I rounded the corner, checking left to right. Nothing. Shit...

I snuck up to the Nest and set down my BR. Taping the rifle to a wall with duct tape (always have it on me!), I also grabbed some paracord and wrapped it around the trigger. Decoy in place. I snuck my way back to Starfire, paracord in one hand, Magnum in the other. I nodded for her to move towards the CQC side.

We were at a corner again, and I checked yet again. It took only a second for me to see Pizza camping in the corner, with Lockheart covering him. They didn't see the compact. I handed it back to Starfire.

I turned to Starfire, holding out three fingers.

Two fingers...

One...

I pulled on the paracord, and my BR reverberated from across the kill-house. I rushed around the corner. *BAM* Nailed Pizza square in the chest, Lockheart was looking toward where my BR's report was coming from. *Ratatat* Lockheart got a three-round burst square to the side, all bouncing off, but for the sim's sake we would be counting hits like that.

Game over! Victory!

Looks like we did it, and I still don't know why my sprees are carrying across games. Might just be a glitch, but who cares?

“Now how in Tartarus did you do that? You had to be in two places at once!” Lockheart was not pleased.

“I just strung up a decoy to catch your attention. Misdirection is an aspect of warfare, one that has trumped you. Pretty clever if I do say so myself.”

“You did what now?”

“I taped my BR on a wall and strung up some paracord through the trigger. When I pulled on the cord, the BR fired, even though I was on the other half of the kill-house. That caught your attention, allowing my to breach and take down Pizza. Starfire took you down no problem.”

That shut him up. “Good game,” Pizza said.

“Good game,” we all replied in unison.

We ran through the War Games a few more times, each trying to achieve a definite lead on the other team's victory count. It was constantly neck and neck, so we called it a tie after game 30. Downstairs, I found Fencing at the range. He seemed surprised to see the new power armor.

“Fencing, you'll have to stay behind for our deployment to Well-met. We don't have enough suits of armor. Keep training whenever possible, we should have a suit for you soon.”

“Wait, you're leaving without me?”

“Lockheart scored better than you at the shooting range, making him ideal for engagements at range. Starfire learns faster than just about anyone here, making her ideal for new areas and power armor training. Spectacles is... well, he's Spectacles. With only the two suits, you just drew the short straw this time around.”

“I'll be sure to train then... I don't want to miss out on any future battles...” Fencing seemed distraught. I think he was really looking forward to this operation.

“Take it easy, Fencing. You were there in the Frozen North with us, they weren't. And trust me, this is just a little side-mission compared to what the future will yield. I promise you'll be with us for many more operations to come. Keep your ear to the ground 'til then.” That seemed to cheer him up a bit. Morale was never my strong suit, but PsyOps was something I knew a bit about.

I brought the assault team to the mess to discuss the battle plan. “Okay troopers, listen up and listen good. The intel I leaked to Chuck Finley in Cloudsdale should have Baby Face fortifying the ever-loving fuck out of Well-met. It will be the most formidable hard point the Mafia has ever had, more so than All-Can-Tries.

“We will not be having air support for this mission, but Luna has lent us a Navy Task Force to aid us if the shit really hits the fan. If that's the case, and only if that's the case, you will be able to mark hostiles with red smoke grenades.

“We will be arriving via train, and aside from the operators, we'll be the only ones on it. Starfire will fashion some explosive bolts linked to my comms so that I can blow the entire car apart without harming us. This'll give optimal lines of sight, and will let us bring out our ace in the hole.

“The Mantis will be the main work horse for this operation, drawing and dishing out fire like no other. The Mafia will most likely gun down our car before we ever open the side door, so keep your heads down until I blow the bolts. Form up behind the Mantis when I do.

“Pizza's Hardlight Shield will provide excellent cover if you can't get behind the Mantis. The town should be evacuated of almost all civilians, but check your fire just in case. Hostiles are in pinstriped suits. The locals may engage us, as the Mafia has aided them greatly. You do not fire unless if fired upon.

“The main objective is to eliminate all hostile strong points and capture Baby Face, the chapter's leader. He runs everything in Well-met, including the signing of paychecks. If he goes, the mob dissipates. The Marecago Outfit Navy is our secondary objective. If I believe we can, we'll sink their battleship.

“But if the shit does hit the fan, a Royal Equestrian Navy blockade runner will infiltrate the Well-met waters and very briefly dock. This is our ticket out, and it will not wait for us. Otherwise, we'll be walking out of there on our own. The REN is just an assurance. Any questions?”

Lockheart spoke up, “What's the estimated opposition?”

“Seeing as we have Baby Face scared shit-less from our endeavors against the Cloudsdale Chapter, I would say extreme. That is why we'll be using the Steel Ranger Prototypes Spectacles built, and that we tested.”

Starfire was next, “When will the assault take place?”

“The train is scheduled to arrive in Well-met at high noon. Seeing as it's a priority line, I don't think there will be any delays. This will be a broad daylight raid.”

Pizza had a concern, “What if we lose a man in the field?”

“We either pull him out of their, dead or alive, or we detonate the suit's power supply. This applies to Mjolnir and Steel Ranger armors. Mjolnir's classified materials makes it too hazardous to be in unfriendly hands, same goes for the Steel Ranger Prototypes.”

“What is the probability of success?” asked Spectacles.

“I would estimate between fifty and sixty-five percent. I've been through tougher.”

“Why are you so sure Baby Face will be there?”

“If he leaves when he hears that we're coming, it will shatter the confidence of the Mafia, encouraging insurrection within their ranks. If he stays, it will have to be a hard-fought battle to try and make an example of us. He will stay to try and prove the Mafia has nothing to fear but fear itself, but we'll show them we are fear incarnate.”

“What about the Zebras? We are at war with them.”

“We'll have to deal with them after Al Capony. Right now, a domestic threat is much greater than a foreign one, plus the Zebras may attempt an alliance with the Marecago Outfit. We've already staved off a massive invasion in the Frozen North, so we have some time before they attempt another attack.” No more questions. Good. Now to get ready. “Team dismissed.”

It was morning the next day, and we were marching out of the underground fortress that is Crimson HQ. I was piloting the Mantis. The sun was well into the sky and pony folk were out and about. Their curiosity captured them when they saw Crimson's assault team walking down the street.

The locals only came up to the base of Pizza's sternum. They didn't even make it past the first leg joint on the Mantis. I was towering over them.

I rather liked the Mantis's controls. Two peddles, two sticks. The sticks controlled the arms. The peddles controlled the hydraulic pressure in the legs, enabling standing/crouching. The seat itself was another controller, having sensors in it to detect movements in your ass to determine the pivot of the vehicle's hips, enabling walking. To spin around, just move both sticks to the side, though this may be a bit hard to get used to when trying to aim one way and walk another.

The HUD displayed to my forefront gave every vehicle read-out I needed. I was glad this thing had separate shields... and a 20 mike-mike rotary... and an MLRS (Multiple Launch Rocket System, though I prefer the term Катюша).

Starfire was on my right, Lockheart to the left, Pizza front. We were marching right through the busy streets, crowds parting like the wake of Spectacles' CRRC. It was time to get serious.

We found our way to the awaiting train. I had to crouch down to have the Mantis fit inside the train car. The rest of the team was already tucked inside. On the outside, in big, bold, red letters, was two little words: “Crimson Guard”. It was the only car labeled as such, making it easy to spot. The time for covert activities was long over.

We waited there in complete silence as Starfire placed the explosives around the train car interior. After she finished, it was dead silence as we sat uncomfortably in the train car. This was a cargo car, so there were no luxuries, just blackness. I started counting time.

Three hours is what I counted off in my head, when the train slowed. We were here. “The only easy day was yesterday,” I radioed to the squad, breaking the silence. They all assumed a prone position, leaving me to sit in the twenty-eight ton tank.

All hell broke loose. Shrapnel and lead flew threw the crew cab like we were in a hurricane. My shields barely lost a sliver. Daylight spilled in for the first time in hours. After what seemed like an eternity and a half, the storm ended as quickly as it had begun. Time to take back the light.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

“Lieutenant, you even went so far to give UNSC secrets to these completely alien strangers?”

“Yes, sir. They were friendly and in need. Plus, it felt like the right thing to do, I only wish I knew what it would lead to.”

“You should have. Further, that is why I believe you are still a Lieutenant and not a Captain, unlike what these creatures made you.”

“Admiral, I would suggest you show them some respect, they have been through a lot more than you ever will.”

“Is that so, Lieutenant?”

“Yes, sir. They are dead, after all. I believe the military has a reverence for the deceased. In the Navy, ‘we stand upon the backs of giants’.”

“Admiral, I believe the LT was merely pursuing his science objective on the planet.”

“Doctor, he got directly involved in the affairs of another race, against First Contact protocols.”

“Admiral, I swear on Harvest that was in the pursuit of good.”

“Regardless, you did break protocol, Spartan.”

“He was completing his mission, Admiral!”

“And I will mine, doctor. Now, what happened next, Lieutenant?”