Hoku wasn't holding his gun, his furry hands were too busy being wrapped around the neck of an enemy, his claws biting into the flesh, blood running out as he tore. He didn't have the pure finger strength to choke a person, that was a human trick, but sharp claws were about as equally miserable to have invading one's tender flesh.

The lithe weasel-like person beneath him writhed and choked, desperately trying to get the lutrai off of him, but no quarter was given. Hoku went in for a final kiss, sinking his teeth into his opponent's throat and tearing it free with the crunching of sinew. Blood sprayed in an unwholesome display even as a door opened behind him. He wheeled around, grabbing his gun and raising it before he realized it was another soldier, a brother. "Hooah," he spat out with some blood.

"Hooah," echoed the soldier, looking less certain. There was Hoku, his face and chest literally slathered in blood. It was hard to reconcile the cute and playful otter with the... war beast in front of him. "All clear in here?"

"All clear." Hoku pat his stained hands across his front, only making the mess worse really. "All clear out there?"

"Beachhead is secure." The soldier gave a thumbs up. "Hope they'll remember this like Normandy."

They had fought their way up off the beach against terrifying enemy resistance, losing men along the way, but the site had been taken. Hoku would not have accepted less than that, or died trying. He smiled, fatigue starting to overwhelm in. "We win." He slumped against a wall, breathing raggedly. "We win..."

Wakefulness suddenly returned to him, starting up. "Where Paul?"

"Paul?"

Hoku thumped himself in the chest. "Paul." He suddenly darted out, even as his limbs cried out in tired agony. No matter how fast he wanted to go, he could only manage a painful scamper, emerging into the smoky battlefield. "Paul!" he called, looking around. He saw other soldiers, but they weren't Paul.

He had to find Paul, make sure he was alright. Paul had school to get to.

The camp to deliver succor to the people of the nation that had once belonged to the Storm King was making steady progress. The region was stabilizing with care programs to help local entrepreneurs get on their feet and start running, returning things to some semblance of normalcy.

Donations were plentiful from various, almost entirely EFC, sources. Ponies and humans were the most eager to help. Commercials speaking about the abandoned people in the focus of a passing natural disaster had people ready to reach for a wallet and contribute to the cause. With the funds, the people on the ground were able to start initiatives that helped local people help themselves by getting them past the hardest first steps.

Tempest Shadow descended a small hill towards the beach, where the food lines still were, even if others had cropped up further inland, appearing in marketplaces that were starting to revive. They were doing good, and she was a part of it. She smiled with a soft triumph at the weight and scope of her deeds. She was making a difference, and because she wanted to, not at the behest of some crazed lunatic.

She crested the final bump to descend and immediately slid to the side. Peeking around the corner of the building, she could see a variety of creatures, not humans, and not ponies. They were holding hand cannons and though she couldn't hear them, she could still see they were shouting something.

The humans had their hands up. The ponies were cowering, heads covered under hooves.

They were being attacked. Tempest had considered getting a handcannon for herself, but her horn couldn't hold it steady.

That didn't stop her from getting a mouth-operated version. She coiled on herself and wriggled into the harness, holding the gun firmly in place and biting down on the controls, ready to aim and fire on demand. It was time to fight, and she had no intention of backing down. She slipped out the other side of the building and began galloping down the hill, skidding and hopping from cover to cover.

"Get back on your ships and get out of here," barked one huge bruiser of a creature, threatening with his automated rifle. "This isn't your nation anymore."

"This... isn't anyone's nation," argued one man, his hands still in the air. "We're helping its people get to the point they can decide for themselves what they want."

"Yeah--" He slammed the butt of his gun against the man's exposed belly, causing him to double over, coughing violently. "--right. EFC's done taking over the world."

A pony moved to assist the struck man, but stopped as a bullet struck the sand near one of her hooves, the sand jumping up at the impact sight. "You, get on your boat," roared another creature, looking just as ready to visit harm on them.

She shied away from the creature, tail low and limp, a little sniffle on her lips, but that gave away to wide eyes and a slack jaw. The creature that had been threatening her suddenly slumped forward, crashing into the sand as it bowled over from behind.

Tempest was on a rooftop facing the back of the back of the incapacitated combatant. "You picked the wrong beach and the wrong day." She squeezed, prompting the rifle that took up most of her side to fire with a painful bang, her ears folding flat against it. Another assailant went down, howling in pain.

A serpent-creature wrapped around one of the other humans there, holding a gun to their head, eyes locked on Tempest. "Stop shooting or they get it." Guns raised as one, each assailant aiming at a defenseless aide worker.

Tempest's jaw set, but she dared not bite down. She worked out her odds of taking out the snake before it shot the person, but even if she shot perfectly, others could end up injured or worse as a result.

With nary a noise, a human suddenly brought down a pot that had once held grains for distribution. The snake hissed with agony, but that human wasn't the only one. Suddenly it was bedlam. The aide workers were fighting for their lives. Shots were fired. It was too late to reconsider. The die had been cast. Tempest turned her sights and began to snipe as well as she could.

People would die, and possible already had died, but she would minimize it. She would kill as many of them as quickly as she could, if it could save even one of her compatriots down there. "Damn it all..."

The door behind her slammed open. There was a literal bear of a creature, rifle under an arm. Tempest leaped to the side just as the shots began. With a hail of sparks and lightning, she rained magic down on her attacker, causing him to back a step, but he kept on firing. Pain exploded through her side as she hit the ground, then collapsed. The bear was coming for her. There was no time. She rolled over and clenched her teeth.

As consciousness fled her, the last thing she saw was the bear slumping much as she had. She would have to settle for a pyrrhic victory.

Rason grabbed his chiming phone. "President Rason speaking."

"Mister President." He didn't recognize the voice. "I'm moving into position. I'll be going dark. Did you want me to call this number?"

Rason quickly grabbed for a rolodex, flipping rapidly. "Call this number." He gave a number to the CIA. As much as he wanted to know everything, that was officially not what he should be doing. Getting in trouble for ignoring the proper chains of command would not assist him. "I'll let them know to expect you."

"Not from this number." The line went dead.

Rason set his phone down gently. He had to give the not-changelings some credit... they were taking it seriously. That didn't make his job less important. He quickly picked up the phone in the office. He had people to alert what was going on, so they could react appropriately.

"After a hard-earned victory, EFC forces are proud to report having a beachhead on council lands." She gestured to the right where a window appeared, showing a rough line of soldiers, weakly celebrating their victory.

"On a small scale assault meant to bypass coastal defenses, our brave soldiers neutralized the small docks there and the ground-based defenses. Experts are already rushing to get a look at how the TSDI defends itself." The window changed to show a still shot of one of the great minotaur defensive cannons that had put so many terrible holes in the American Navy not that long before. "Casualties are yet to be determined, but spirits are high and plans are already underway to advance inland and see that this war ends."

They had not let the ponies join the initial rush. They were far too precious. Spellcasters were to be kept away from the actual fighting, as far away as possible at all times, just close enough to do their jobs.

Twilight stepped off the plank of her ship into the water, waves splashing at her legs as she quickly ran up to the dry sand. There they were, on the land of the minotaurs. Where Iron Will had come from, some time ago, perhaps? She wondered if the troublemaking bull was alright in all the chaos. As much trouble as he had caused, she didn't want to think he was actually hurt... or worse.

"You look thoughtful." Starlight stepped up beside her, eyes on the horizon. "Whew, enemy territory. We're going to have stories to tell everyone back home after this is done."

Twilight held up a hoof. "About how we stopped this. This has gone on far longer than it should have. They are not some dark force that needs some Elements to the face. These are a people, that we could be friends with. That we should be friends with." She took another step up and started to walk. "Let's end this."

Starlight scowled at Twilight's back end. "Someone has to keep you from getting yourself killed." She strolled after Twilight, ready to offer more pragmatic defense should the need arise.

"Paul!" Hoku rushed up to a collection of body bags. He didn't want to entertain that Paul could be in one of them, but if he didn't look... He reached for the first and a soldier nearby was eyeing him. He drew his furry hand back. "I just want to check if it's a friend... please?"

"Yeah, go ahead." The soldier threw a cigarette aside. "If you identify them, let me know, we could use any help you can give."

Hoku nodded stiffly. "You... can't tell?" He reached for his dogtags, dangling around his neck. That was what they were for, he thought.

"Both sides aren't shy about things that explode, or tear a fighter apart," calmly explained the cadaver watcher. "Go on and get your peek. I know you got somewhere to be."

Hoku glanced away as he stepped forward cautiously. It was a grim task, unfolding each face for a look. Many were mostly intact, allowing him to look quickly before zipping them back up. Not Paul. Not Paul. Not Paul. Oh... That wasn't Paul either, but they had been caught in some terrible... thing. They were barely bipedal in their meat-shape. When Lutrai learned about battle as kits, it was a thing of valor and bravery. Two proud warriors would clash, and one would cut the other down, but there was always a body to bury, to respect. "Oh..." This was not the war he had been raised to revere.

With a heavy swallow, he reached for the next bag. The least he could do was check them all. He had to know if Paul was alright.

Stupid human had school to get to.

Author's Notes:

Ugh, that last scene. It hit me in the feels. Am I being a pansy?

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