I was standing beside Admiral Nautical again when the recruits joined us. I filled him in on what we needed to do (as well as my new face) and he graciously accepted the job. “Alright team, I need you to stowaway on several crates to make this look good. I'll also need you to don your gang attire for this, with exception to Footfall: I'll need you in a suit.”

The recruits did as I asked, and we were underway shortly thereafter.

We looked like hammered shit, which was good, I guess. Footfall looked like a stockbroker with too much funding up his ass. Also good. Footfall would get to the bank first, then a few minutes later, we'd pop up to assail the place.

I counted down the minutes. One, two, three... five... nine... fifteen. Time to go. I opened up the crate, daylight finding my face. I knocked on the other crates my team was in, each one opening up in turn. I checked the ammo on my battle saddle, TTR rounds with extra red paint. This would be a good day.

“Alright team, check your ammo: TTR only, we are not here to be the enemy, only to look like one. The bank is near Capony's front door, so he will have eyes on us while we run this op. Let's do this fast and smooth. Do as I say, and we probably won't wind up in prison.”

“Sir, what about masks?” asked Daze.

“The balaclavas you were provided should suffice. You all are great shots, so I don't want to see any low blows or headshots. TTR hurts, and it'd hurt a lot more in those places. Center mass to do this fast. Everyone ready?”

“Yes, sir.”

“One last thing, I suggest we refrain from referring to one another in a military fashion. We're supposed to be wannabe gangsters, not private military. Refer to me as 'Boss', if you'd like.”

“Got it, boss.”

“Alright, let's get going.”

We casually walked out of the docks where the Benevolent Exchange was sitting pretty. Our rag-tag outfits made us fit in with various dock workers, but our battle saddles made us stand out. I quickened my pace slightly, the others following suit.

Up ahead it looked like a couple ponies were going to give us trouble. I gave them my “we're heading exactly where we need to go” look, with a touch of “you don't want any of what I got”. They stepped aside, I didn't break stride. A hundred and fifty yards later, we were outside the bank. I looked to the team.

“Masks on,” I whispered, donning my own balaclava. “Daze, stun.”

I heard the pin on Starfire's homemade 9-bang drop to the ground. Daze hefted the thing to the side, readying to throw it. He made sure to keep the striker lever depressed, like a good little soldier. “Solace, if we get split, you're in charge of whoever you're with. Breaching in Three... Two... One... BREACHING!”

I opened the door and in went the 9-bang. I shut it until I heard all nine detonations. I opened the door wide afterwards, letting the whole bushel of recruits bum rush in. There was still smoke hanging around from the explosions. Leading by example, I started muscling the civies to the ground, knowing they wouldn't be hearing clearly any time soon. The bank's masonry walls had great acoustics.

As I shove Footfall's face into the stone floor, I saw a guard holding a shiny new pistol. I guess he never fired it before. I turned to face him and fired a three-round burst into his chest. *Ratatat!* He went numb and collapsed with red splattered across his chest. As far as everyone else was concerned, I just killed him.

The ponies started talking a bit more, so I guessed that the deafening effects were wearing off. They were already tied up on the ground, so they posed no threat. (Wow, the recruits worked fast!)Thinking on my feet (or hooves, in this case), I jumped onto a table in the middle of the room.

I fired five rounds into the ceiling. *Ratatatatat!* “Listen up and listen good, my little ponies,” I announced in my best intimidating, projected voice. They seemed to settle down. “We do not mean to inflict harm onto you. Our quarrel is monetary, our solution guaranteed. Do not try to hinder us in our endeavor, else you would make like the hasty security colt, and fall in such actions. We seek the bank's currency, not you own. Do not be a hero.”

I jumped off of the table, trotting up to the most nicely dressed stallion in the room. I would estimate he wore a 8,000 credit suit. “Are you the manager?”

He barely lifted his face up to greet mine. I gave him a sadistic smile, showing off my new fangs. A foul smell irradiated from his posterior. Now he wore a 0 credit suit. “Yes...” he barely muttered between his trembling and unexpected bowel movements.

“Then we have need of you yet. You heard our proclamations, will you assist us? Or do you wish to hinder us, like the security guard?” I intensified my glare at him. The smell of urea came to my nose. Something tells me this guy can't handle the sight of war.

He shakily stood up and trotted to the back counters. Nearing the vault, I'd presume.

“Boss, we've got company!” Daze said, in a fake southern accent.

I looked towards where he was pointing. A local guard contingent was inbound, most likely from the Benevolent Exchange. I knew the 9-bang would draw unwanted attention. I took aim and fired at them. *Ratatat!* The rounds landed shy, causing the guards to stay back a while longer. They were unarmed, after all. They were panicking too, each claiming the other got hit.

“Make haste with the vault, you wouldn't like to be used you as a meat-shield, would you?” I told the manager. He seemed to agree, trying the combination lock some more. How hard could one combo lock be, anyway?

I remained vigilant as more guards formed up around their comrades. We didn't have much ammo, but they don't know that. I fired a burst at the two from earlier. *Ratatat!* I hit one of the in the shoulder. He fell over as the other tried to drag him away.

I looked to my left and saw the manager trying desperately to pull open the vault door. Apparently he put in the wrong combination. “We do not have time for this!” I shoved him aside and placed my ear against the vault.

Click... click... click... click... click... Got one down. I moved on to the next number. I could almost make an image of the tumblers in my head just off of the acoustics of it... almost.

More gunshots erupted, and I heard more screams from out front. Another 9-bang went off. Solace was barking a few orders in a Russian accent. I was having some trouble with number two on this lock. The manager's stench wasn't helping.

Almost there... click... Bingo. Now on to number three. I heard Solace give the order to fall back to my location. This time gunshots were coming from outside. Two more 9-bangs went off. I could almost visualize the tumblers in my head, but the fighting was getting too loud to effectively hear that last tumbler. I had to guess, based on what I felt was right from the previous observations.
Click. We're golden. The door swung open and inside were piles of golden bits. Conveniently, there was a money bag inside. I could hear the guards continue their advance, forcing the recruits back. It wasn't looking like we could just waltz out the front door (which, hopefully, Footfall did). If I remember right, Daze should have plan B.

“Daze, we need a door!” I called out.

He nodded and disengaged from the fight. I took his place along our lines. I saw several guards and laid down suppressing fire. They scrambled for cover. *BOOM!*

Starfire's own mix of Comp C plastiqué. Somehow, she seemed to be able to make it more explosive. I really hope she doesn't mind us using her supplies for this op.

“Let's bounce!” I yelled to the recruits. One by one, they followed my orders, leaving through the hole in the wall. I was last to follow.

“What now, boss?” Heartstrings asked.

“Now we skedaddle. Follow me!” I ran off towards the docks.

Somehow, we escaped. We all thanked Admiral Nautical for the ride to and from. We had all ditched the disguises in the ocean, and the Benevolent Exchange was nearing Canterlot. I stretched my wings a bit. Today we earned our pay. Tomorrow, we keep it.

“Alright, team, you ain't green no more. Great job out there. We'll try some more advanced training tomorrow. For now, go get some rest or some grub. You've more than earned it,” I told the not-so-green rookies as I wandered over to the mess hall.

I sat down with some hard tack. Then I decided, “fuck it, I've earned it” and swapped it out with some steak and a bottle of Sparkle-Cola. The cap said “Not a winner, maybe next time!” Nothing like the chance at a free drink to get people drinking more.

I was halfway through my steak when I noticed something: absolute quiet. Normally there would always be at least some commotion. I listened more closely. I could hear: my heart beating softly, the recruits breathing quietly as they slept, and the hum of the lights and generator. I only counted five breathing patterns beside my own. I snuck out of the mess hall, heading towards the back of the HQ.

The workshop was dead quiet, and it had a finished Mongoose in it. I checked the rear generator room. Nothing, just the Mantis sitting pretty. I went back and checked the Eye. Spectacles would normally be here to provide overwatch for any op that we'd be running. Where was he? It isn't like he is a combatant.

The Eye was empty, but I saw some activity on the monitors. There was snow... a lot of it. Sporadic gunfire from one skirmish line to another. I saw several Equestrian soldiers get gunned down. It looked like a sniper had them pinned. It was an urban environment: masonry buildings on either side of this cold street our boys were fighting in. Why weren't they inside?

Then I noticed that there were no other soldiers. Just this squad, surrounded. I saw a red blinking light on the keyboard. Somehow I hit it with my hoof on the first try. Audio came through.

“This is Sergeant...” [Static] “...immediate assistance...” [Static] “...Stalliongrad...” [Static] “...Zulu Fox...” [Static] “We...” [Static]“...Evac now!” [Static] The message got washed out with white noise. Were the hostiles using a jammer? Can't say for sure.

Zulu Fox... Zebra Forces, easy enough. Stalliongrad? I had no idea where that was. I would have to guess somewhere up North. Bottom line, they were in trouble. And they sounded Russian, but that was beside the point.

I started fiddling around with the different menus on one of the monitors. Eventually, I found the “world map” button. I zoomed out and tried to look for Stalliongrad... Bingo. Wait... a half dozen friendly IFF tags were moving with incredible speed towards Stalliongrad. They stopped abruptly when they reached the city.

I caught a glimpse of something on one of the other monitors. A black dot in the distance, zooming towards the camera. It's been a while since I've been flying fighters, but... that looks like the Pelican.

It continued to approach, and sure enough, it was the Pelican. Spectacles was flying the thing! Where the hell's Pizza? I saw Spectacles open up with the chin-gun, blasting apart the façade on one building. Then the bird passed slowly over the Stalliongrad soldiers.

A rain of steel came pouring out of the back hatch. Four suits of Steel Ranger power armor, and a red suit of Mjolnir came out of the back. The Steel Ranger armor looked a fair bit improved from the version that was at Well-met. I take it these were the Mk IIs?

Pizza still had his DMR, a good choice for counter-sniping, I'd say. He also had a rocket launcher on his back. Given the agility of the Zebras (and accuracy too, apparently), it wasn't the best choice of armament.

The Steel Rangers had better guns, too. It looked like the ARs they had were swapped out for something more akin to BR85HB Service Rifles. I glanced in the direction of the armory, thinking of my Arctic camo Battle Rifle.

Looks like they meant business, but all I could do was sit here and watch. Or... maybe. There might be a way to get there in time. I marched into the workshop and found the transmogrification armor ability.

I swapped my Thruster Pack out for it. I turned it on.

That was something I could never get used to. It felt like my insides were being turned inside out. I barely managed to take my helmet off before I vomited up my steak. Good thing I didn't finish it. I paused as I grabbed my helmet. I looked into the golden visor.

The face gazing back was most definitely human, but I had slit eyes... and fangs... but no wings. Just when I was getting used to them, too.

When I put the helmet on, the auto-doc seemed a bit confused as to my anatomy. I overrode its preservation setting, changing it from “optimal” to “maintain”. If I had any chronic condition, it wouldn't help it. It would take a full physical to reset it properly, but the clock was ticking.

I clenched my reacquired hands tightly into fists. That felt good, feeling my fingers again.

I marched my way back over to the armory. I opened one of the weapon crates. I grabbed a Jet Pack. I grabbed two of each grenade type. I grabbed by Battle Rifle and the SRS99-S5 AM Rifle. Let's rock.

I left a note on a table in the mess hall for the recruits. I left the HQ and went straight to the Castle. I went to the nearest Lunar Guard in the barracks that wasn't asleep. I depolarized my visor, “Hey there, I need to find Princess Luna.”

He seemed a little annoyed until he looked me in the eye. Then a shadow of a hint of a smile graced his grizzled face and he said, “She's in the observatory. Take a right just past the thrones.”

“Thank you,” I ambled off, walking right through the crowd of various aristoponies and politicians until I reached the throne. I nodded to Celestia as I walked by. She seems a little bit surprised at my being (semi-)human again. The Royal Guards started to move like they wanted to stop me, but the Lunar Guard made sure to set the example for them to followed, letting me pass.

I looked at the staircases, then looked a bit further right and found the door to the observatory. A lone Lunar Guard was outside. “I need to see the Princess. This is urgent.”

“She has requested solitude.”

“I don't care. Lives are being lost right now, and I need to help. Otherwise, her little SF fireteam may become a lone operative very soon. Am I understood?”

“Yessir, but she was adamant about what she said.”

I gave him my most intimidating stare possible. Back in my Marine days, a Corporal started a rumor that I froze a lake (and the Covenant on it) with such a stare. I could see why he started it as I looked at this guard. “Milady, you have a visitor!” he called up the path to the observatory.

“Tell him I want to be left alone.”

“This ain't the kind of thing that can wait, Luna,” I said.

“Joe? Give me a second.” One Mississippi. “Come on up.”

I walked right past the guard and up the path to the observatory. Luna was laying down studying a star chart. “What was that all about?” I asked.

“Nothing, now what did you want to see me about?” She was hiding something, but I couldn't say what. Knowing her, if it is kept from me, it is probably best I don't know about it. She was also unsurprised by my being human again. She really is that good, huh?

“Stalliongrad is under siege. My team went in without me, taking my only ride out there. They are ill equipped to deal with the threat in the city. Can you teleport me there?”

She stared at me for a second worry tinged her face, “No, such a spell would take an unprecedented amount of magic. Plus, I am not familiar with the city. I know its locale, but I can't get you anywhere unless if I know the layout.”

“Why's that?”

“Ever materialize inside a wall?”

“Got it, so why not above it?”

“I have a feeling the fall would hurt, seeing as you have lost your wings.”

“I have a feeling it won't, seeing as I've no need of 'em.” I pulsed the Jet Pack for emphasis.

“That still leaves the problem of the amount of energy it will take to travel that distance. I am not sure if I can muster it.”

I opened up my auto-doc and pulled out one of the many syringes. “Try this. It's epinephrine. I sometimes use it as a combat drug. It makes me forget my limits, so that I can blow past them. I tend to regret it later, when I'm sore but safe. Now, I need to get to Stalliongrad, and I ain't got the time to drive my ass across half a continent. Will you get me there? Please?”

I looked Luna in the eye. A few seconds ticked by (those precious few seconds). She wavered a little bit, then took the epinephrine in her magic. She injected it into her leg. I immediately saw her eyes dilate, breathing quicken and her ears focused forward. She stood up, “Let us hurry.”

She closed her eyes, focusing her horn. It glowed a brilliant purple, then it was enveloped in an overglow. I found myself wrapped in a similar aura. and in a flash of purple, the ground went out from under me.

I looked down. Lots of white. Definitely the North, most likely Stalliongrad. I saw some buildings below. They were distant and remained statuesque. I went spread eagle and tried to guide myself towards the soldier's holdout. I could see a few tracers and some explosions down below. I pulled up my armor's altimeter. It was at 48000 feet.

24000 feet. I could see the muzzle flashes from below. I also saw the Pelican doing strafing runs. The tracers were flying back and forth like paper airplanes in a classroom full of juvenile delinquents. I aimed for the focal point of the lights.

12000 feet. I could start to make out the individuals on the ground. The Stalliongrad soldiers wore green, Steel Rangers were gunmetal grey (duh), and Pizza was being a little red menace. Unfortunately, it looked like they were all holed up. The Zebras were all in black.

8000 feet. I reoriented myself, diverting to the rooftops. There was an enemy sniper team on the building I was headed for. They were still letting loose with hot lead. I figured I should introduce them to cold steel.

4000 feet. Well within sniper range now, but I'm not that crazy. They don't know I'm coming; best not to tell 'em about it. A Stalliongrad soldier went down. There were only three left, aside from my team.

200 feet. Right on target. I went ramrod straight, heading feet first into this slice of hell. I activated my Jet Pack and reentry thrusters.

80 feet. I hit the rooftop hard, leaving a smaller crater. The Zebra snipers didn't notice, seeing as Pizza's rocket detonated just a few feet away from them. They continued firing down at the team and the survivors.

I drew my combat knife and stalked inch by inch toward the striped bastard.

I grabbed the sniper's mane and pulled back. Shock went through his eyes, but not before my blade went through his throat. I plunged it hilt-deep, enough to sever the brainstem via the esophagus.

The spotter turned and kicked me away from his fallen comrade. Shields: 40%. I rolled backwards, using the momentum of the kick to get some distance between us. I had one hand on the ground, both feet there, too. I looked him in the eye. He looked back. I brandished my knife.

Then he reached for a radio. I activated Mjolnir's ECM jammer, givin' static to the stripe. He tried to key the mic, but quickly found it useless. I launched myself at him like an Olympic runner.

He rocked back onto his forehooves and bucked my square in the chest, sorta like a kangaroo. Shields: what shields? I was launched backwards a good 8 feet and was lying on my back. I took inventory of my grenades: two M9 HE-DP, two Type-1 Antipersonnel, one Z-040. I looked the Zebra square in the eye one last time.

“I picked that up from the Chief, you two-toned son of a bitch.” The Pulse Grenade detonated, turning the spotter to ash. I rolled away from the orange ionization field.

I clambered up to their old hide. They had an excellent sight line on my friends down below. I drew the SRS99-S5 AM rifle. X10 zoom showed me everything I needed to know.

“This is what I trained for: sniping. Not training rookies, jumping out of good aircraft, nor falling feet first into hell. Sniping: the surgical elimination of undesirables with finesse, skill, stealth, luck, and distance while remaining a pain in their ass, their worst nightmare and a godfinger,” I uttered to myself.

Zulu infantry advancing on Friendlies. *BOOM* *BOOM* Double Kill! *BOOM* Triple Kill! *BOOM* Overkill! Reload, no more Zulus advancing. Change position.

I retreated back from the edge and moved further down the building. About halfway back I peeked over the edge. There was another adjacent building about 20 feet below mine, and no good sight lines from my current position. I slung my rifle and got some distance from the edge.

Next thing I did was sprint headlong at the edge. I jumped over, landing well within the rooftop perimeter even without the use of my Jet Pack. I noticed that there was a small alleyway between the two buildings. Some Zulu Fox were using it as cover. I dropped a frag grenade on top of them.

I was about to turn around and get back to covering Pizza when I noticed another tall building on the other side of the street. Apparently the Zulu Fox on that rooftop spotted me as well. It looked like they had a jammer with them. I ducked down below the edge of the rooftop as their rounds silently sailed overhead. It seems the Zebras have developed suppressed firearms.

Priority: jammer. I shouldered my rifle and introduced the Zulu hardware to 14.5 mike-mike Sabot rounds. Hostile fire was being pinged off my armor. It was doing damage comparable to a DMR. *BOOM* *BOOM* *BOOM*
The jammer exploded. I saw one of the hostiles glance back at it then point for other forces to repair it. I take it Mr. Pointy is the officer here. *BOOM* Was the officer here. I didn't bother with a reload, swapping back to my BR.

*BAM BAM BAM* *BAM BAM BAM* I laid down some suppressing fire. The BR's 2x scope doesn't help much at these ranges. “Joe to Pizza, you reading me?”

“Boy am I glad to hear your voice, Joe.”

“Pizza, what's your status?”

“Low on ammo, low on men. We're defending this fountain in front of the consulate, it is the last access point to the sewers below, where the civvies have been evacuated. They're to hole up down below while we clear the top. Easier said than done, I guess. The civvies have three days of supplies, but that won't last them long.”

“Pizza, I'm providing overwatch from the tall building nearest you, but am taking fire from the other tower across the street. Interrogative: do you have any Plan B?”

“Yes, sir. Do you want me to demo that tower?”

“Negative, keep it on hand, I'll be down there once the tower gets cleared. Spectacles, you on this channel?”

“Hell yeah! I love this bird. Can you get me one for Hearth's Warming?”

“Well, if you like it, can you show those Zebras across the street why it is such a nice ride?”

“No sweat! Let's see if they like plasma!”

Note to self: Spectacles is wicked with technology. Best to get him something in the way of Covie weapons later. I saw the Pelican cruise in and switch to hover right in front of the tower. Hot plasma spewed forth from the nose, followed closely by a steel rain of 70 mike-mike. Those Zulu Fox were toast.

“Good effect on target, moving in on friendly positions. Sit tight, Pizza.” I jumped over the edge, heading towards the fountain in front of the consulate. The team was holed up inside the fountain, the Stalliongrad soldiers seemed to not mind the cold as much.

The IFF tags revealed Fencing and Pane on the perimeter, with Pizza, Starfire and Lockheart closer towards the middle of the fountain.

“Pizza, what the hell did you get our asses in now?”

“Lots of snipers. These Zebras are sneaky fucks. Too bad for them, I've brought a SWAT device with me.”

“Shoulder Worn Acoustic Targeter?”

“Eeyup, the locals love it. Too bad my DMR's the only thing that can touch the Zebras at this range.”

“No need to fear, I am here!”

“And so am I,” Spectacles added over the radio.

“Right now, we've got to get out of here. Local forces, stay put. Starfire, Lockheart; you're with Pizza. Fencing, Pane; on me. Pizza, push down the main road, as a diversionary force. I'll push back in order to try and flush out their forces.”

“Right away, sir.”

I clambered over the edge of the fountain, following the same path I was on earlier, heading North. Pizza was going South, towards the tower Spectacles had just wrecked. On my left I saw a group of Zulus setting up. *BAM BAM BAM* *BAM BAM BAM* Double Kill! *BAM BAM BAM* Triple Kill! *BAM BAM BAM* Overkill! *BAM BAM BAM* Killtacular! No longer setting up.

My shields flared; taking fire from behind. I spun around but by the time I had I saw Starfire raining grenades into the enemy position. It looked like that corner shop was having a blowout sale. These flanks were clear, I turned to head East, along some lower buildings. There was a greenhouse on the right for some reason.

On the left I saw some more Zulu Fox pouring out of a long building. *BAM BAM BAM* *BAM BAM BAM* I gunned down the ones outside it, then stacked up at the entrance. I tossed my last frag grenade into the building, hearing a fair share of screams when I did so.

I rolled left, entering the structure. The smoke hadn't even settled. *BAM BAM BAM* *BAM BAM BAM* *BAM BAM BAM* *click* Shit. I rolled back, more Zulus returning fire. Reload.

I was about to roll back in, but I saw Fencing charge headlong into the building. More screams ensued, and then all was quiet. I listened. Nothing. I miss my thestral ears... or do I still have them with due to the bleeding effect? I rolled into the building, rifle level.

Want to know what's black and white and red all over? A Zebra after going in close against Fencing, or in this case, six Zebras. Fencing was standing atop the crippled and bloodied bodies of a half dozen Zebras. His armor was heavily dented, but damn was that a lot of CQC kills in not a lot of time.

“That was a lot of Zulus dying at once,” was all he said as he walked past me and out of the building. I followed, eventually leading my team down to what looked like a spa. Some more Zulus were holed up in there. It looked cramped enough.

I tossed my two Plasma Grenades into the building. BOOM BOOM Killtacular! My motion sensor wasn't detecting anything in there anymore. “Fall back to the fountain, this avenue's clear... for now.”

We hopped back into the fountain. “Listen up, the East avenue is clear. We'll head down that way and Spectacles will evac us by air.” One of the Stalliongrad soldiers trotted up to me.

“We will not leave our citizens behind! Go if you will, but I shall remain.”

“We're not leaving them, they'll be the first out. How many are down there, anyway?”

“Five hundred.”

“Oh, man. That'll be twenty trips in the Pelican. Spectacles, how are you holding up?”

“Not good, I think they found the scissors to my paper. They're just taking pot shots at me when my back is turned.”

Given the Zulus firepower, that means the Pelican won't last. “Soldier, is there any other way out of the city, preferably one that can handle that kind of traffic.”

“You said the East is clear? That is in the direction of our metro. We just have to cross that gap.”

“Pizza, status?”

“They just keep coming! I'm down to melee combat. There must be a whole regiment to the South!”

“Starfire, lay down smoke. Pizza, gather up your team and fall back to the fountain. Spectacles, stick with strafe runs, we only have the one Pelican. Soldier, get the civvies to the metro station. We are not leaving them behind!”

“Yes, sir, tall man, sir. My name is Sergeant Khrushchev in case if you were wondering.” Khrushchev opened up the sewer (boy, did that stink!) and the civvies quickly ran out. He was making it clear they had to make it to the metro.

“Pane, Fencing, help with the evac. I'll provide covering fire.” I climbed on top of the fountain and lay prone. BR shouldered, I let loose. *BAM BAM BAM* *BAM BAM BAM* *BAM BAM BAM* *BAM BAM BAM* *BAM BAM BAM* I was just firing blindly into the smoke. Just enough to keep the Zulus at bay.

Pizza, Starfire, and Lockheart were also at the fountain. “Everyone with ammo, lay down suppressing fire. Everyone else, aid in the evac,” I ordered. Spectacles was doing some work behind the smokescreen. An insurmountable roar of firepower rushed forth from our lines to the smoke, halting any attempted advancement by the Zulu Fox.

Khrushchev ran up to me, “We're all that is left, now we retake this glorious city!”

“Negative, sergeant. We've lost this fight. We can take it back later, but not with what we have now. We are leaving. Crimson, pack it up! Head to the metro.”

The three Stalliongrad soldiers were trying to stop me. “We must not leave this land! We will all be a disgrace.”

“Soldier, listen. I've seen many homes burned to glass, my own included. If everyone stayed and fought, no one would be left to fight the battles that need to be won. Now, are you coming, or should we leave you behind?”

They all seemed to pause a bit. Finally, without saying a word, they all bowed their heads and followed the rest of the civvies to the metro. I followed behind them, along with the rest of the Crimson Guard.

We reached the entrance to the metro station when my shields flared again. The Zebras had caught up to us. “Crimson, defend this station! We need to make sure the civvies can get out,” I radioed to the team. I started returning fire, but now the enemy snipers seemed to have gotten their shit together.

Their fire was focused on me, my shields didn't last long. I felt the rounds tear through the gel layer on my armor. They were taking measured shots, avoiding the plating that was so distinctive of Mjolnir. The rounds slammed into the gel layer, and tore through my own flesh. From experience, I knew these were .308 rounds (don't ask, I’m still pissed at that marine).

A yellow system warning appeared on my HUD. I ignored it, returning fire on the Zebras. Pizza's shields popped too, and he took cover. I was about to do the same when a lucky round struck my knee. I fell flat on my ass, but never did my aim waver. Starfire ran up and started dragging me deeper into the metro. She put a detonator on my chest before pulling out a bundle of gauze.

I looked around in the metro, and then I saw the red blinking lights. That's a whole lot of Plan B. My auto-doc pumped some of that good ol' morphine into me, the pain fading away rapidly. Starfire did a decent, yet unextraordinary, job patching my wound. The bleeding would stop soon enough.

“Everyone, fallback!” I yelled. I grabbed the detonator as I stood up as best I could. Pizza was quick to get to my side and help me down the metro tunnel. I waited until we covered about a hundred feet. “Clear!” KABOOM!!! All hell broke loose, dust completely obscuring our vision. The metro lights went dark. My motion sensor was the only way I knew we weren't being followed. I was getting some blue contacts, but they seemed more like debris than a Spec Ops Sangheili, judging by the movement pattern and the lack of Covenant here.

The civvies were just a little way ahead. Next stop: end of the line.

I kept my eyes forward, making sure none of the civvies got hurt by anything. Once the dust settled, I activated VISR. I was rather impressed at how sturdy-looking the subway system was. It looked like even a normal bunker-buster wouldn't crack it. Maybe Rods of the Gods or a Shiva warhead could rend it barren, but nothing conventional. “Khrushchev, these are some rather impressive tunnels you have here, can't say I've ever seen a metro so sturdily built.”

“Да, it is the pride of Stalliongrad. Our underground systems are built like juggernauts. Almost all of our emergency planning leverages off of them, except for flooding, of course.”

“Must have been a hell of an engineer who built this.”

“Actually, Sergei here helped construct it,” Khrushchev pointed a hoof to the other Stalliongrad Soldier to his left. A buck private, but with a mean, 50-grit look on his face. I guess he was all warm and fuzzy on the inside. “He doesn't talk much, unless if you've got some vodka.”

“Sorry, medical alcohol only, vodka's back at base. High-proof, too... Anyway, Khrushchev, who's the other guy under your command?”

“Private Vostok, also rather introverted, but you can always find him at karaoke night.”

“Hmm, back on Miridem I was in a choir. I was stationed there, too. At least until the Covenant glassed it.”

“'Glassed'?”

“It's when, via orbital plasma bombardment, a planet is burned until its surface is glass. It also wipes out the atmosphere, making it uninhabitable. Last I checked efforts are being made to get Reach back, but it won't surprise me if it takes a while.”

Pizza spoke up, “But an effort is being made. We'll have her back before Mdama can say 'what the MAC'.”

The walk was long, maybe three hours before we found our exit. “This way,” Khrushchev said, motioning towards the doorway. Looked like the end of the line to me. We popped out in the middle of some rocky terrain. Trees dotted the landscape. Just past a few trees I noticed a stone archway on the precipice of a clearing. Looks like we had our LZ.

“Spectacles, requesting evac at my location.”

“En route, ETA: pretty damn quick.”

Pizza set me down against a tree. Things were feeling rather cold, so I had him check my bandages. We waited in the cold. I noticed a few of the civvies shivering. I almost forgot how cold it was, 'Damn quick' is how long I'd give until evac if anyone wanted to get out of here before hypothermia set in.

“Pizza, do you have any thermal gear?”

“Negative, why do you ask?”

“People are gonna start freezing to death soon. Let's see if we can improvise something.” Trees... lots of trees, but no axe. How about explosives? “Starfire, you got any precision explosives?” I saw a few civvies look my way at that remark.

“Yes, but I'm down to only one charge of Comp C. Will that work?” She handed the explosive to me.

“Maybe, stand back as I plant this.” I found a nearby tree and planted the mere quarter-pound charge as best I could. It was hardly anything, but it would have to do. “Clear!”

*KaBOOM* The tree fell down, away from the civvies. Spectacles appeared overhead, guiding the Pelican like an expert. He set her down gently next to the civvies. Pizza stepped forward, “Take them to Canterlot. All aboard! Standing room only,” I yelled to the group.

The civvies quickly huddled into the Pelican, women and children first. We only got about 8% of the group aboard before Spectacles had a full load. He sealed her up and took to the skies.

“Crimson, take the branches of that tree and start making a fire. We'll need to warm these civvies up.”

“Stalliongrad has trained us well for the cold,” Khrushchev said.

“Nobody's immune to the lethal, sergeant, not even me. Best to start helping”.

Via a friction bow, we barely got a fire going. Starfire was demolishing the other trees as best she could into burnable lumber. Fencing and Lockheart had ditched their power armor in order to collect some more foliage from the treetops. The ground was lifeless ice and permafrost. Every hour and a half or so Spectacles would come in, taking a few equine popsicles with him. Some of the group started looking a bit blue.

I reviewed that yellow system alert from earlier, and my blood ran colder than the air around me. Heating System Failure! Shit... No wonder it was getting chilly in here. Apparently one of those Zebra snipers got lucky and hit the AC. I moved a bit closer to the fire.

Turns out the one thing Pizza and I forgot to pack when we came to this world was thermal blankets. The only arctic equipment we had was my Battle Rifle's camo pattern.

We were down to the last 100 survivors when we started losing them to the cold. A father who let his family go before him was one of the few to fall. Vostok took the duty of taking their photo IDs for future records. Sergei went through their things for anything that could help anyone else. I made note that he left their coins behind.

Starfire had run out of explosives. Fencing had frostbite on his wings. Lockheart had already stripped the last tree of any kindling. The fire had already died out, and we couldn't revive it. It was just us and the ice. I wonder how the Zebras are doing in the city?

The last survivors started huddling together in groups. “Pizza... do you think we could get a little blaze going by burning our remaining gunpowder?”

“Maybe... best to get a fuel source first.”

He had a point... high temp, no fuel; no fire. We were out of lumber, and foliage. There was one thing, though... “Sergei, I need you to take the clothes off the dead. Distribute it amongst the survivors. Once that's done, we'll burn the bodies for warmth.” He looked disgusted at my order, matching my own distaste of it. “They'd want us to live, let's not have them die in vain.”

The next group to depart looked a bit better than the last one, but their faces told a different story. We treated the dead like plague victims; burning them. We were down to roughly sixty or so survivors. We started doing well with the pyrrhic fire roaring. I didn't see much shivering.... only shuddering. At least we didn't make like the Donner Party. Fencing and Lockheart had since gotten back into their power armor; it had better heat retention.

It would be a while before Spectacles returned. It looked like the city was largely dependent on magic to keep its residents warm through the cold nights. The sun was setting, and I was still surprised the Zebras hadn't found us yet. Something tells me they aren't the types for leaving loose ends. I started patrolling the perimeter, trying to keep my blood flowing.

Mjolnir's heating system would normally keep its user comfortable at these temperatures. When I get back to base, I'll see if Spectacles can build any upgrades for Mjolnir. In the meantime, I had to keep the cold from killing me. I tried to divert reactor power to the heating, but I was getting magnetic overload warnings.

“Pizza, I think my environmental controls took a hit in that exchange back at the station. I can't turn the heating on. I've already tried diverting reactor power to it, but I was getting magnetic overload warnings, the same warnings you get when detonating the power supply.”

“You want to huddle together for warmth, Joe?”

“Let's just try to hold out until evac. That will be our real victory. Plus, the civvies get priority over us. My armor still has some decent heat retention, but I'm not too sure about their clothes.”

“Roger that, Joe.”

“Major Pane, how are you holding up?” I asked.

“Cold, miserable, and in need of alcoholic intake. In other words: practically normal.”

“We'll get that remedied when we get back to Canterlot. First round's on me. Know any good bars?”

“The Artifact Club is a good place for good drinks, but it has raves nightly. The Old Chalice Theater has fancy drinks, and you get a show too (given you aren't too rowdy). Finally, the Hourglass Spa has the worst drinks in town, but you'll love every moment you spend there.”

“So, there's always a catch?”

“Eeyup.”

“How about I piece together a War Cocktail for you back at HQ?”

“War Cocktail? Sounds like my kind of drink.”

“An ODST named Tarkov told me the recipe back when I was in the 105th.”

Khrushchev, cold as he was, seemed to hear the name, “Tarkov? Sounds local. Can you introduce me to him?”

“I don't know what happened to him; Voi was the last time I saw him. Hell of fight, if I memory serves.”

“Most likely, Stalliongrad tends to bring out the inner badass in someone.”

“He was Hungarian.”

When Spectacles returned, we only had enough room for all but a half dozen. I volunteered to stay behind, as did Pane, Starfire, Sergei, Pizza, and Vostok. We waved goodbye to Lockheart and Fencing, the more injured of us (the cold was bitter and unforgiving, but Mjolnir was more so). They were the coldest of us all.

“...And then there were six,” I muttered.

“Two privates, a corporal, an ensign, and a major, all lead by the LT. Disparity, much?” Pizza pointed out.

We all chuckled at that. But we would need more than cheer to stave off the cold. It was still -50o Celsius. This was unfrigginbelievable. I was starting to shiver under my armor. Being born on Harvest wasn't helping; it was always hot there. Better take my mind off the cold. “So, Pane, what made you enlist?”

“The law.”

“Well, that's an odd thing to sign up for. Might I ask why?”

“Got into a bar fight with some colt. Turned out to be a general. Just to fuck with him, I enlisted the next day in a different branch. I was then under military jurisdiction, though the fight was under civilian jurisdiction. Never made it to court. And for the record, I never told you this.”

“So how did you become an officer?”

“Wanted to twist the knife. I'm hoping to outrank that general some day. Maybe even lead a joint op with him under me. I would love to see the look on his face when I say 'remember me?' to him.”

“Are you sure he'll remember you, after all these years?”

“Yeah, I banged his daughter. That's why he tracked me to the bar.”

“No wonder he started the fight.”

“Actually, I did.”

“So you mean to tell me you fucked his daughter, then whooped his ass the next day?”

“Same day, actually. A little 'morning delight' followed by happy hour.”

“Mad props to you, Major. Any soldier with balls like yours almost makes me feel bad for the enemy.”

“So... I told you mine, care to share yours?”

“Yeah... Mine can be summed up with one word: revenge. It goes back to when I was five years old. I was just walking through the wheat fields like I do any day, just trying to pass the time. Next thing I know, there are explosions everywhere and eight-foot-two alien monsters running around. My parents packed me and my brother in the car and gunned it all the way to the spaceport. When we got there, some Colonial Militiamen were waving us aboard the space elevator. My parents stayed behind, to let us go first. That was the last I ever saw of them.

“Fast forward a dozen years and I'm sitting pretty on Miridem. My brother had already went to Reach to enter some marathon and pursue his running career. When my birthday came around, I enlisted that same day. Since then, I was a Marine. Just in time, too. Six years later the Covenant found Miridem. I fought hard for every inch of dirt, but ultimately lost. They pushed us off world and if it wasn't for a group of ODSTs, including Tarkov, we wouldn't have made it out alive. That was also where I met Pizza.

“Pizza recommended I join the 105th, so I did, as soon as my tour of duty was up. I was in the finest outfit the UNSC had, or at least what I thought was the finest. The training was harsh but I eventually got my jump wings. Five years of hellish combat later, I got furlough and went to Arcadia. I heard that there was a farming community there, and I was feeling all nostalgic. Bad move.

“The Covenant came back to Arcadia while I was there. The region was mostly lawless, but it still supported the UNSC. It looked like I was the only military man on the entire planet. Tough break. I organized a small resistance force as best I could. Those sons-of-bitches fought harder than I've ever seen a Marine fight. We only got one evac transport off-world successfully; the Covenant shot down the rest. I'll give you one guess who was flying that one.

“After Arcadia, I went back to Earth, and went through OCS at Luna, using my defense and evacuation of Arcadia as a credential to get into that prestigious school. I came out as Ensign Joe of the 105th ODST. I was placed at Cairo Station, an orbital MAC platform over Earth. Not exactly a job an ODST prefers, but it was nice to that hear my brother was at Mars for more running along the highways. A couple years later and Reach got hit. The forces at Earth were told to hold their positions. Pizza was at Reach for the apex of that brawl, but I was pushing papers and running supply crates 150 kilometers from the ground.

“Then... they found Earth. I went dirtside and linked up with Tarkov's squad, Pizza included. Luckily, some Covie rebels joined our cause and we actually won that fight, and with it, the war. The fight took us clear out of the galaxy and for the first time, I got to fight beside the Master Chief, not once, but three times. We even fought something... too terrible to describe... Anyways, without the Master Chief, our whole species would be extinct. After all of that, I ran into Jun, a Spartan-III who served at Reach. He recommended the Spartan-IV Program to me, so I signed up.

“I was placed on the Infinity, but only set foot aboard after my training was complete. Then I found myself at the Second Battle of Requiem. Miraculously, Pizza had also signed up for the Spartan Program at the same time. We were placed in the same fireteam, and I found my way up to Lieutenant. I wasn't leading the team until later into the battle, when Mormon went down. At the end of all that, we saved the ship after losing Richard to a sniper.

“Palmer then sent us on this mission here, to keep an eye out for Jul Mdama, the bastard responsible for the Second Battle. In the mean time, I'm fighting this war with you.”

Well, shit, there's my entire résumé.

Starfire spoke up, after a long pause, “So basically, you're gullible to recruiters?”

“Heh, yeah, you could say that. But my agendas were already figured. I guess it's good to be hunting Jul Mdama. I basically made it my life goal to do everything I could to wipe out the Covenant. Now they're just remnants. I feel like I've accomplished something.”

“Well, you should, you've been serving longer than I've been alive.”

“Have I? Let's see. Born 2520, enlisted 2538 at 18, now its 2558. That makes it to twenty years of service. You are a corporal, so I'm guessing you were a recent recruit.”

“Yeah. Geez, you're almost forty! But your calendar seems a bit off.”

“How so?”

“Well, I'm pretty sure it's just because of us being from two separate worlds, but your dates have about five hundred years on ours. Our calendars say it's August 29th of 2058.”

“Regardless, I'm still kickin' ass this far into my life, so I have to be doing something right.”

The soft roar of the Pelican's engines warmed all of our hearts. Our ride was here. We all clambered aboard. A quick headcount: Sergei, Vostok, Pizza, Starfire, myself, and Major Pane.

“All aboard, take us home!”

I think we all appreciated the heating of the Pelican's troop bay.

“Lieutenant, if you don't mind me asking, who made your armor? It's a lot fancier than the fatigues we were issued,” Khrushchev asked.

“It was made by three separate corporations, actually. My helmet and breastplate were made by Naphtali Contractor Corporation, a company focused on airborne armors. My visor and pauldrons were built by the Materials Group, the original Mjolnir manufacturers. My leggings and vambraces were built by Lethbridge Industrial, a group specializing in foreign and exotic designs. Surprisingly, Lethbridge makes the Thruster Pack and Jet Packs Spartans use nowadays, yet the armor most airborne units use is either built by NCC or Cascade Stronghold.”

“So I don't have to go to just one company to get some kick-ass armor?”

“Nope. There are about a dozen different Mjolnir manufacturers today. The Materials Group is the most reputable, and they like to focus on the experimental technologies. They started Mjolnir that way. All manufacturers are just a bit out of reach for anyone here, though.”

“Damn...”

Spectacles piloted the Pelican over to the Shipping District with ease. He set her down like a pro, too. Still no TJ Murphy. The back hatch opened up, and we all stood to leave. It was far into the night. I could see Epsilon Eridani, just a little off from Orion's Belt. We had fought hard for her.

Pizza was doing the same. The hour had just rolled past 12. I checked my calendar. Aug 30 2558. “Today's the day, Pizza. Reach fell six years ago.”

“Hell of a fight...”

“We're still breathing, though. We've got plenty of asses to kick in the future. Though now they're more striped than purple.”

“You got that right. Let's RTB. I could use a War Cocktail or two.”

We all walked casually to our HQ, having waved goodbye to the Stalliongrad Survivors. They were going to report to the princesses in the morning, as were we. A refugee camp was set up in the city, and a few stuck-ups seemed to be bothered by it. Guess they don't know what its like to lose your home.

We were at the entrance to the HQ when I noticed something... On my motion sensor, there were seven contacts. Pizza, myself, Starfire, Spectacles, and Pane were accounted for. The others? What were they...

“Halt,” I ordered, holding up a fist, “Pizza, check your motion sensor.” I activated VISR as I drew my BR. Damn... no ammo. Forgot we burned that stuff for heat. Best to intimidate, then.

I quickly saw two outlines of two ponies. Ponies that weren't there. “Pizza, you good on right?” I asked.

“Yes, sir. On your count.” The others started looking a bit nervous. The two invisible targets looked like they were getting ready to pounce.

“Пять... Четыре... Три... Два... Один... Нулю!” On zero we both pounced, jumping right over the rest of the squad. I tried kicking one of the suspects with my right boot. He ducked, and pulled me to the ground. I lit up my Jet Pack, going airborne. Good thing I stocked up the auto-doc before going to Stalliongrad.

He dropped down and shifted priority to Pizza, who was trading blows with the other suspect. I drew my knife and threw it at the outline in VISR. Solid impact, center mass. The hostile didn't stop, but was slowed. I dropped down behind him, the auto-doc's morphine dulling the pain my knee was plaguing me with.

He turned around and tried to punch me in the face, but I dodge it like Neo. Then he tried to sweep my legs. This time, the Zebra was much faster than the Captain on the Caesar. I hit the ground hard. He straddled me and tried to pound my face in. I brought up my arms to block.

I counted out four hits before there was a brief pause in his strikes. I used that as an opportunity to roll onto my front. He let me roll, trying to pull the knife out of his side. I bucked him like that Zebra Captain did a while back on the Caesar. That put some distance between us.

I only managed to get into a sitting position before he pounced me again. I got onto my back and the mother of all kicking battles ensued. I kicked right, he ducked left. He swings right, I dodge left. Eventually I just decided to use my Jet Pack, getting free from that stalemate, and onto my feet.

He stayed back, wanting me to strike first. “Caesar is a cur, sending those who can't be seen to do his dirty work for him,” I said, trying to get him to rush. I was focused on my knife in his side.

That did it, apparently. His Active Camouflage faltered and died out when he dropped the hood on the robe he was wearing. “You do not know of who you speak.” That is on confirmed Zebra infiltrator.

“I know that I am better than him, doing my work personally. I get to see my enemy in the eye that way.”

“Yet you cower behind a mask, like some wild cat avoiding the true light.”

I depolarized my visor. “Those who hide in darkness see a different kind of light. I've seen so much worse than anything you could possibly inflict unto me. You can see it in my eyes. Now make peace with your gods, you will not have another opportunity in this lifetime.”

He seemed to stagger back a little bit. “Starspawn...” he muttered. I wouldn't have a better chance to strike. I charged. He jumped left, trying to dodge. I reached out and drew my knife from his hide, leave a nasty gash behind. I stood tall and walked slowly towards the bleeding Zebra. He was trying to crawl away.

“Joe, backup!” I looked behind me and saw that Pizza was losing his fight. The cloaked SOB had him on the ground, pounding his Hardlight Shield. I threw my knife as hard as I could, narrowly missing. Pizza's shield was already red, it wouldn't last much longer. I started to run toward him.

Something caught my foot, and I landed face-first in the hard soil. I looked back, and the Zebra I was battling was holding onto my boot. Not knowing anything better to do, I overloaded my shields, sending a powerful shock through the Zebra. My shields were gone, but the Zebra, zapped as he was, still would not let go. I tried kicking him loose, to no avail.

I looked back up at Pizza. His Hardlight Shield had run out of juice, just like his standard shields. I could see the tell-tale golden crackle across his armor. The cloaked figure that had him was about to deliver a heavy hit. “Pizza!” I yelled, reaching out to him.

*Ratatatatat!*

*Ratatatatat!*

*Ratatatatat!*

*Ratatatatat!*

The Rookies! They burst out of the doorway, lead by Lockheart and Fencing. The lot of them shredded the bastard that was trying to finish off Pizza. “Joe!” I heard Daze yell out. I looked his way and saw the Mighty Magnum soaring through the toward me. I grabbed it, flipped the safety off, and introduced the Zebra fuck at my ankles to 12.7 mike-mike explosive rounds. *BAM* *BAM* *BAM* *BAM* *BAM*

He went down, missing half his face. I was finally free of his death-grip. I looked over to Pizza. The Zebra that was attacking him wouldn't be getting up anytime soon, but Pizza was on the ground too. I sprinted to his side, sliding the last meter on my knees.

He was still breathing, but he took a pounding. He'll need time to recover, and we'll need to stabilize him. I used a cable to link our armors. Diagnostics confirmed his auto-doc was inoperable. I opened up mine and grabbed some biofoam to inject into his armor. “Heartstrings, get a medkit!”

“Haven't felt that in a while,” Pizza muttered. I take it he meant the cool feel of the biofoam.

“Take it easy Pizza, you look like you've been smashed by a Gravity Hammer.” Internal bleeding popped up via the link.

“Feel like it, too.” He took off his helmet. I could see blood streaming from his mouth.

“Shit, Pizza. We've got to get you to a hospital.” No broken bones, the link said. How?!

“Equines, remember? Better make it a vet.”

“Yeah, I'll be sure to. Just stay with us, Pizza.” Heartstrings was back, Unit Three satchel in tow.

She started practicing medicine on the crippled Spartan, administering a purple potion. The link said he was improving, but his heart was slowing a bit much. I reached for a needle of epinephrine. No dice, Luna used my last one.

Did everything have to go wrong, now of all times? Apparently so. I gave Pizza a morphine syrette, to dull the pain a bit more, but only half to keep his heart beating. “Who's ever fastest, go contact a hospital; we need doctors and medical equipment in here yesterday,” I ordered to Crimson. Starfire took off her armor and took to the skies.

The rest of Crimson kept on grabbing whatever Lyra requested. “We need a sterile place to move him, preferably with medical facilities,” she said, her horn lit up. The boys brought back the judge's table from the shooting range. We moved Pizza onto it, using it as a stretcher.

“I'll need a scalpel, I'm still detecting bullets in him.” I dipped my knife in the medicinal alcohol my auto-doc had. I burned it off using the lighter in the medkit and handed it to her. I helped disengage Pizza's Mjolnir armor and it's gel layer. He was in his skivvies.

Lyra precisely cut him open near his various gunshot wounds from the metro station... or would he have gotten them earlier in the battle? The biofoam would seal up the internal bleeding for us. “I'll need something to stop this bleeding.” She was starting to falter a bit in her speech. Her magic stayed steady, though, as she dug out the what few bullets got through Mjolnir. Rivulets of blood ran down the fallen Spartan's body as Lyra did her best to extract the bullets and prevent infection.

I pulled out a small tube of biofoam. The smaller tubes are used for direct application, whereas the grenade-like cylinders are used of injection. Most of the stuff I injected earlier seems to have already hardened. “Apply this directly to the injuries,” I told Lyra. She was probing around in a wound, looking for a bullet. She generously applied the biofoam to all other locations that were bleeding.

Pizza let out a moan of pain. Lyra pulled her head back, seeming to be confused. “There isn't a bullet...”

“What?” I asked.

“The bullet... it didn't go through, but it isn't anywhere inside the wound.”

“Let me take a look,” I peeked into the wound on Pizza's right side, seeing nothing but blackened powder all throughout the wound. “Dammit, the Zebras hit him with a frangible round, that powder is the bullet, Lyra, and its mostly copper too.”

“That can't be good, but I can't think of a way aside amputation that would remove the copper.”

“There isn't. We'll have to seal up the wound and get some toxicologists to keep a watchful eye on him. They should be able to handle copper poisoning. This right here is against the laws of war: ammunition capable of causing excessive damage to an enemy combatant.”

“You gonna let me rest now, Joe? I'm sorta laying down on the job again, huh?” Pizza mumbled.

“Take it easy, Pizza. You'll be fine.”

“Hardly. I thought frangible ammo was reserved for cops?”

A thought flashed through my mind about the CPD. Lyra spoke up, “Joe, we can stave off infection and accelerate the healing process by applying honey to these wounds. Do you think Crimson could grab me some?”

“You heard the lady, Crimson. Someone, get us a shitload of honey. I won't bother asking where it came from.”

Lockheart, Fencing, and Footfall saluted and ran off to the exit.

“While they're away, let's get Pizza inside.”

“Agreed.”

Everyone that was left helped move Pizza indoors. We placed him and the table he was on in the back storage room, just behind the mess hall. I moved his armor to the workshop. I'd need to repair the auto-doc... and my heater.

Lockheart and his team came back with a crate full of jars of honey in five minutes. I moved it into the storage room, where Lyra promptly massaged it into the various gunshot wounds covering Pizza. It took thirty more minutes for the doctors to arrive. We had them look Pizza over. All they did was nod and tell us to keep up the good work and administer penicillamine if a copper ring develops around the iris. We then cussed them out for taking so long, and sent them packing. Pizza was okay for now. Lyra wouldn't leave his side, but I had a team to lead.

I accessed the UNSC personnel logs, and changed Pizza's status from “Active” to “WIA”. It could never be a cakewalk, now could it? I would have Lyra glance over my wounds soon. I swung by the supply room and grabbed the Auto-Turret we had there from the Whitetail LZ.

I placed it out front, setting it to “kill all”. Under the exceptions list I placed the VISR data for the princesses, the Royal and Lunar Guards, and Crimson. The turret was searching left and right. It was fully operational. I dragged the two Zebras back inside with me.

As I was dragging them, I noticed that one was still breathing, though faintly. “Lyra, we've got a breather!” She came galloping up to me, then noticed the Zebras. She seemed to pause a little. “I need you to take the bastard that pummeled Pizza to the local hospital. Take Daze and Fencing with you, in case if he has a few punches left in him.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, heading back to fetch Fencing and Daze.

I continued to drag the dead Zebra into the workshop. Only half his head survived the Magnum's pounding, his brain not included. I would've liked to cross-analyze a Zebra brain with my own and a pony's to see any unique qualities about it, but I guess you can't win 'em all. I laid the Zebra corpse out on a worktable and pulled out my knife. I needed to figure out why these Zebras can parallel a Spartan in combat.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

“Lieutenant, you had sustained casualties and yet you still didn’t call for the Infinity to evac you?”

“Sir, if you saw what happened to Harvest, Miridem, or even Arcadia you would never pull out and give the enemy an edge. Miller put it quite nicely: ‘Spartans don’t leave things have finished’. I wasn’t going to leave Equestria a safe haven for Mdama.”

“So you sought medical treatment for yourself later, Lieutenant?”

“That is correct, sir.”

“Lieutenant, earlier you mentioned something ‘too terrible to describe’, would you mind telling me what it is?”

“Admiral, I’d rather not say. It still strikes me with fear just by imagining what it does to a person.”

“But does it have a name, Lieutenant?”

“Sir, please don’t make me say it… they followed me, I swear it. They won’t leave me alone.”

“Admiral, I believe he is talking about the Flood.”

“Doctor?”