My snout, why? Why is it alway the muzzle? Picking himself up, Jason took a look around and came to a single conclusion, Is this Candyland? Seriously, theres a fucking gingerbread house. I didn't say it was a smart conclusion. Being the good soldier he is, barely noting the receding sounds of two musicians who would normally keep to their separate areas of expertise, Jason followed the rules, checking his weapons and finding nothing wrong. Duffle bag with Obamacane and spare equipment, checked. MP5 with a flashlight, laser pointer, muzzle flash suppressor hybrid that can turn into a compensator with a small twist and a holographic sight with the ever comforting smiley face, checked. 9mm Glock with with a flashlight, checked. Flashbangs, concussion, smoke, EMP and frag grenades are all safe in a small pouch, small satchel of C4 and several detonators, 2 combat tomahawks, a Kabar knife by Cutco, a LHR combat knife, med kit with body augmentation supplies and three syringes of instant gauze, small set of bolt cutters, needle nose pliers, and several dozen feet of paracord.

If you were to ask Jason 'whats the definition of overkill?' Jason would point to himself. Truly, he didn't believe that the excessive amout of stuff in his kit was a burden, perks of being a test subject for dangerous mods. For instance, his bones had to density of lead while his muscles had the density of gold.

Jason then checked for any obvious injuries. Nothing broken, nothing bleeding, next is location. Looking around, Jason did not see anything thay reminded him of his time in Israel. Running a quick check on his data pad revealed he had no satellite connection. Looking around revealed an empty street flanked by wooden houses with thatch roofs, something that is definitely illegal in every state in America. Finally looking over his armour and his wingsuit, seriously worried about there being even the slightest tear in the fabric because that would result in him being grounded. Thankful that he found nothing wrong, Jason decided he needed a direction that will lead him to someone who can tell him where in the seven rings of hell is he.

Boom!

That way, towards the weird purple explosion. Explosions means 2 things, US friendly troops, or more bigots with pipebombs made with some shit from a fireworks stand. Looking towards the explosion, Jason grabbed his H&K MP5 and checked the magazine. Finding it full, Jason took a right at a lamppost and headed towards the fight.

Rrroar!

The fuck made that? Sounded like a... Is the a GEMO? The moment Jason got to the fight, his brain shuts down at the sight. 6 anthro horses like him were fighting a cross between a bee and a panda. Behind several crates were a dozen anthropomorphic people wearing gold armour and wielding wooden crossbows, meanwhile there was at least 20 more anthropomorphic civilians just watching, sometimes mere yards from the fight. Firing at the bear-bee thing, and somehow not hitting the civilians, the guards kept firing and reloading their ancient arsenal. (Jason couldn't bring himself to respect them enough as soldiers. They failed the first objective, clear the AO.) Multiple colours among the 25 plus civilians, as well as some with wings, or a horn, or neither. The purple one that was flying around the creatures head had an extra appendage. So the purple one wasted money on a simple way to break her neck.

Other then that, neither of them has a wingsuit, or anything to assist their wings with holding up the weight of their bodies. Maybe selective mussle density increases along with hollow bones.The weird golden armour wearing guards were all similar except for the horns, wings and none with both. So maybe Purple is richer then the rest, despite Whitie having fancier clothes. Maybe think more about my very weird day later.

Okay, secure the civies, and take that abomination down. Then maybe someone in this amish town can point me back to civilization. "US Marines, get back!" With that out of the way, Jason ran over to the nearest piece of cover and gave a nod to the confused guard next to him and lined up a shot at the beast's wings.

Rat-tat-tat. Rat-tat-tat. Rat-tat-tat. Despite being suppressed, the others couldn't help as their ears layed against their skulls. Firing in short bursts severs one of it's wings, effectively grounding the beast. The civilians backed off and covered their ears. With the civilians distracted, the creature raised a paw with the intention of hitting the white and purple one. A quick burst to it's arm stops it's attempt on her, as Jason finds out after she turns towards the sound of his gun, life.

"US Marines, get outta here now!" Firing whats left in his magazine results in the bee-bear turning towards him. A deep anger lights the creatures eyes as it runs at the marine. Grabbing the shell shocked guard and jumping to the right, seconds before the cover they were just using being destroyed. Rolling onto his back and pulling the trigger, Jason is shocked by the sound it spits out.

Click-click-click. Fuck! The beast charges as Jason plants his hooves on the things jaws, keeping it a semi safe distance away as he tries to load a new magazine. Trying to get close enough and tear him a new one results in the beast being on top of Jason. Because of it's new placement, the monster was able to get one of it's forelegs into striking distance. The sling snaps as the submachine gun is sent flying. Thankfully unreloaded. Jason pulls his Kabar and readies himself. Bending his legs to get closer to his target. Jason slides the knife below the jaws that intend to close around any part they can. With a sickening soud of tearing flesh, the Karbar sinks into the beasts spinal cord.

"Fuck you. Get. Off!" Kicking the corpse off of him, Jason stands up and looks around. Civies are safe, the weird armour wearing guards are staring at me with wide eyes, hope their ok. Seriously, calm down, you guys look like a bunch of kids fresh outta boot. "Anyone know what that fuckin' thing was?" The guards back up and point their crossbows at Jason, and, if it was possible, stare at him with even wider eyes.

"Heh, cute. Now go find an adult before you put someone's eye out." The guards exchange a few glances before saying something that confused the marine. It wasn't english, wasn't French or German or Russian or any human tongue. It was an entirely equine language, every whiny, snort or neigh said something to the marines core. You don't belong here. Here, we have our whole world, safe from your taint. Whether or not that was the guards intention, Jason didn't find out. Hearing the comfortable sound of wings behind him, Jason noticed three things. 1, a yellow and pink haired equine was staring at the corpse and openly crying. 2, the blue one who was flying earlier was comforting her and glaring at Jason, and 3, The orange one and blue 1 shared a look before nodding and walking up to the marine. Immediately cocking their fist and clocking Jason on the chin.

Crack!