When the dogs came for Texas, they were harshly rebuffed. Emerging into cities and towns, they sowed chaos in the first passing moments, but the response came with equally frightful immediacy. More people had guns than didn't, and few felt shy about firing them, especially at people threatening their property.

The TSDI forces regretted that decision, but not before causing desperate damage in the interim. The invasion of Texas was ended barely after it had begun. This wasn't to say there weren't casualties. There were far too many, on both sides, but the fight was over and done, as if they just got it all over with at once.

More rural portions of the country were struck the hardest, with roaving gangs of TSDI forces having plenty of time to take shots at Americans before they could react or even know they were there and a threat. Farms were put to the torch and ranches left as burnt out husks. Great semi-mechanical farms were torn apart, the local police forces no match for the invaders and insufficient populations, armed or not, to push back the invaders.

It wasn't until the local armed forces mobilized that the destruction could be ended, and that took precious time that allowed horrific damage across such states and areas. Entire communities were wiped from existence. The armed forces would fall on them and crush them with brutal efficiency, but not before so much damage had been done.

The same ganger that had narrowly escaped did not run immediately home. He met up with others of his gang, and others. There was panic, and fury. Some were not ready to fight, but many were. "Those niggas choose the wrong ghetto," grunted one, ratcheting his shotgun needlessly. "The way I see it, killing them gets a fool medals, not jail time."

Others cheered, gang differences being cast aside a moment. They could hear the damage being done. The turf they had fought over was being torn apart. They could settle their differences once what was rightfully theirs was protected.

"Yo Yo, check this out." He spilled out a bag full of improvised grenades, each lovingly made in preparation for a need that never seemed to actually come.

"Shit son, when the hell did you stock up on these?" Many hands reached in, grabbing up the offered explosives with grins.

They would suffer tragic losses, but they met the invaders in those critical moments between the police and the army, slowing down the invaders.

Handguns and long arms proved only moderately effective at hindering them, but didn't put them down, whereas the civilians only needed a shot or two on average to put down. The grenades tore through their personal armor far more effectively, and city blocks became an active battlefield.

Those that could hear it had several choices. Some simply ducked down and hoped it would pass. Some fled away as quickly as they could, creating traffic jams throughout the city that slowed responses from those that could more meaningfully add to the battle. A few trickled in, joining the battle. Many were braver than they were effective, managing a few wild shots before a bullet or a beam found them in return.

Fires and smoke choked all sides of the conflict, firefighters completely denied access by traffic and gunfire. There just wasn't a way to start fighting the fire when others were just as ready to fight them with lethal reprise. The city was burning, the screams and cries as if the urban entity itself were calling out in pain.

However one may feel about gun control during peacetime, their appearance in California, New York, and other strict places meant that fewer citizens could even choose to sacrifice themselves on the metaphorical spears of the enemy. They were allowed to roam with relative impunity, unleashing hell on an unprepared police body that was just not equipped to handle hundreds of military-grade combatants and anti-ballistic armor.

One man whistled sharply, ducking just in time to be missed with a clang of a bullet off the metal door he had ducked behind. When a bull slammed open the same door looking for him, he wasn't there. The bull stepped in cautiously, peering around for the human.

The human rushed him, and wasn't alone. Four tackled him from different angles. A sharp report announced the death of one of them, sent staggering back with a gut shot, but the other three bore the alien menace to the ground, fists pounding and beating on him with a desperate will to survive.

One wrenched the gun away from the bull and turned it on the enemy soldier. Another pried his bullet-proof helmet free. With a second loud bang that left their ears ringing, the bull went still, becoming so much meat and leaving them panting and heaving over the first sapient thing they had ever killed.

They were not the only ones to fight back. If they didn't have guns, they took them. The invaders had plenty for the taking, if one were brave and insane enough to get them. Those with guns helped get more, turning the tide slowly.

"911, please state the nature of your emergency."

Gunshots could be heard, faithfully recorded over the line. Something was crackling. "911?" repeated the operator. "Are you there?"

"Yeah I'm here," came a male voice, breathing heavily. "Everything's crazy. Where are the police? Where's the army?! Send everything!"

"Calm down, Sir. Tell me exactly where you are and what's going on." The female operator tried to keep calm, as was her job.

"I'm on 5th and Broadway, Jesus Christ... People are being..." He went quiet.

"Sir?"

She reached to begin dispatching when a hand came down on her shoulder.

She turned to see her shift manager standing there with a severe expression. "If they're there, try to calm them down. They already know."

She had never seen him with that expression before. Her blood ran cold but she nodded softly. "Sir?" she asked into the headset. "Are you there? Help's on the way."

"Please," whispered the man as if afraid to even speak. "Please..."

Princess Celestia strode purposefully through the hallways of her castle, a deep frown etched on her face. "Pray tell me you are embellishing somewhat."

Rainbow Dash trotted alongside her, having to almost gallop to keep up with Celestia's steps. "Look, you know me... uh, yeah, I guess I do that, but this isn't one of those times! He..."

She willed the doors to the infirmary open and stepped in, eyes widening at the sight. There was Soarin, not propped up, as there were no broken bones to hold in place. He had a great bandage where his leg once was.

Soarin looked over towards her, a wry smile on his face. "Uh... hey... I'd get up but..."

"Do not speak another word of it." She stepped inside, eyes locked on him. "Just tell me what happened."

So he did, recounting the fierce battle that sent the TSDI forces retreating. Three bolts were injured, him most of all, but they had secured Canterlot.

"You... have sacrificed much for me, and everyone else that lives here. It will not be forgotten." She raised a hoof to set gently on his forehead, looking into his eyes. "Awaken Luna."

Soarin looked baffled, but a guard understood the command and rushed off to do just that.

"I must go. Rest and recover as long as you need. You will never want so long as you draw breath." She turned from him. "But this battle is far from over."

Rainbow ducked out of the way, letting Celestia storm past. "Eesh... She looks... mad. Like even madder than when her sister was taken and I didn't figure it came much more angry than that." She raised a brow at Soarin. "You two got something going on you feel like sharing?"

"What?! No!" His cheeks burned bright at the insinuation. "I... think I know what it is." Rainbow was looking at him expectantly. "Her sister wasn't actually hurt."

"Oh..." She eyed the missing leg. "It'll take some getting used to, but I bet with some practice, we'll get you back to flying shape in no time."

"Rainbow?" came the voice of a bandaged but intact Spitfire. "Can you kindly buzz off and let us get some sleep? That's an order."

"Yes, Sir!" She saluted with a wing and left them to their recovery.

"They called me crazy." He was high up, looking out through the high powered scope of his rifle. "They called me nuts." With a squeeze of the trigger, he knocked a soldier flat on their back with a satisfying suddenness, but the soldier didn't stay down, knocked dizzy but not dead thanks to their helmet. "Damn it..." He took a quick shot at another soldier helping the first, pinning them. "Ain't moving with me here."

But they were not the only enemies around. His shots were loud and easily tracked even in the chaos of the city. Other TSDI agents arrived at his tower. Rather than charge up to him, they set it on fire with a beam of intense magic, leaving him to fight the fires instead of their fellows.

"Aw shit." He could smell the fire coming, and touching the handle of the trapdoor was enough to tell him it was already a death trap to try fleeing that way. "Shit," he elegantly repeated. "Fuckin' shit hell damn." He thrust his gun back out through the window and squeezed off a shot at a bull making a straight run, knocking them down.

It was time enough for some other humans to get involved. "At least I won't be alone." Rather than calmly wait for the fire to consume him, he pulled himself through the narrow window, hoping to find a fire escape or something, anything.

What he found was a lack of cover. Bullets and blasts peppered the building around him and his body fell to the ground with a loud crunch, torn apart before even reaching it.

The reserves began to arrive in force. They couldn't drive up as close as they would have liked, traffic being what it was and forcing them to hurry the rest of the way. Moving in disciplined units, they told people to get out of the way, and engaged with the enemy. Military-grade firearms fared better against even the bullet-proofed armor.

They fired only single shots, but there were suddenly so many of them, taking their more careful shots in the thick urban environment. It sounded as if they were using automatic weapons, with so many soldiers firing. A rough cheer erupted from what civilian fighters remained, realizing that reinforcements had arrived, in force.

While their armor could turn aside a bullet or two, turning it into a more generalized blow instead of a lethal piercing blow, this become noticeably less effective when the gunfire raised over the saturation point of the armor. Being literally crushed by incoming munitions wasn't any better than simply being shot, and TSDI forces began to crumple under the onslaught.

In some cases, the TSDI did try to charge the reserves, which was exactly when the firing mode was flipped from single to automatic and entire streets became nothing but flying bullets. They died with the same recklessness that had them thinking rushing the American soldiers was a wise idea.

The invasion of America was put down among the fire and smoke. With people cheering and dying; crying and begging. There would be no winners that day, but America would not be taken. Prisoners were gathered from those too injured to fight or wise enough to realize how hopeless their situation was rapidly becoming.

Others fled into the smoke and urban jungle, to become guerilla fighters that would plague the city they vanished into for some time, but the great invasion was a failure.

An infantryman dropped down into a hole, flashing his light left and right. "It's a tunnel. Looks huge..."

Author's Notes:

America was given a black eye that day, but it was not beaten. Some proved they were made of sterner stuff, while others simply tried to get away, and who can really blame them?

The damages? I should imagine it is in the many-billions if not trillions. Never has America suffered a calamity so dire.

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