"On one of my missions to the human world, I visited what those of the world called death camps. At one time, humans were gathered and either executed, or starved to death. As I walked, I met an old man, who through a translator, related to me the horrors that happened. I asked him, "Were you one the prisoners?" He shook his head, and said "No, a guard." From what I know, this old human spent the rest of his days in solitude and repentance, telling the story of what happened in this sad and wretched place. Truly, there is more to humans then what even our eyes tell us."- Luna's private journal

Day 14 of assignment, first week of training

Lero frowned as he gripped the charging handle of the m-16 Mesa had lent to him, jerked it back, and looking down the length of the weapon, could see it cleared. Turning the weapon around, he located the retaining pin, and with the aid of pen pressed it, causing the upper receiver to swing free.

As it did, he said "Nah, I don't buy it. No way Jeanie was ever committed to Major Nelson."

Mesa scowled from the other side of the table, pushing the recoil spring back into his AK.

"Oh come on, how do you figure that?"

The recruit shrugged, and he continued his repairs said "Come on yourself, the girl didn't even get rid of her apartment."

Mesa rolled his eyes as he began to screw the top covering of his weapon back into place.

"Oh come off it, for heavens sake it was just a bottle on the mantle man."

Lero shook his head vehemently as he wiped the rifle, and opened his mouth, then paused. Eyebrows knitting together, said "What the hell are we talking about?"

Mesa shrugged, and pushed the magazine of his weapon back into place, and after a moment of reassembly, Lero followed suit. Taking the weapon from Lero, Mesa slowly looked it over, and after giving a quick jostling of its magazine and a shake of the weapon itself, he let out a low whistle.

"Not bad kiddo. And I have to say, first day aside, you've excelled at your physical conditioning. Most people don't stick out the first day, never mind a week."

The recruit grinned sheepishly, and rubbed the top of his recently shortened hair. "Uh, thanks. But I'll admit, work around town keeps me in pretty good shape, so I may have had an advantage in that regard. Though I might have been a little pudgy without Dash around to rough house with."

Mesa passed the rifle back, and nodded. "I take this Dash is the one who gave that blue feather you wear all the time."

Lero smiled softly, and slowly ran a finger over the pinion. Though he was initially loath to part from its braid, it simply wasn't possible with the cropped styling of his hair he had now. And when Twi and Lyra saw him when he first got home later the day of his new do, he thought they were gonna bust something with all the laughing they did over his newly shave face. Shaking off the warm feelings of nostalgia, he took back his rifle and laid it on the floor next to him.

As he straightened up in his seat, Mesa said "You know though, that necklace of yours looks awfully lonely."

Lero frowned, and sitting up fully, suddenly shot his hand up, and caught something freshly tossed across the table. Opening his fingers, he looked down at the chain and twin steel rectangles, his name emblazoned across both.

"Dog tags."

Mesa nodded. "Yep kiddo, your first step. This past week during our work I've taught you conditioning and the difference between discomfort and pain, and you've learned the basics of equipment maintenance. And you've spared my vocal cords because your quick on the draw in regards to learning things. So, along with the usual workout, I'm gonna start teaching you hand to hand combat. If you get past that, we'll move onto the baton, then the knife. And if your still around, we'll move from the melee to actually firing your weapon."

As Mesa spoke, Lero draped the chain over his head, and laid down around his neck. Tucking the identification pieces into his shirt, he nodded as information was relayed.

"So, when do we get started?"

Mesa opened his mouth to respond, when a blue colored earth mare burst through the door, eyes wide with panic. Pink mane now disjointed from it usual perch, she rushed over to the two soldiers, and grabbed Mesa's fingers in her mouth, and began to tug him towards the now knocked down doors.

Pulling his fingers loose carefully, Mesa held the mares chin and said calmly "Mrs. Cake... calmly. What's wrong?"

Shaking her head, tears began to leak from her eyes, and she stammered, "Pinkie... our shop... Clarke..."

At the name, both humans faces hardened. Taking a spare baton from its holster, Mesa tossed it Lero, who nimbly caught and took a grim satisfaction as it clacked and extended.

"Lets go."

.....

Lero and Mesa pushed through the crowd of ponies in front of Sugar Cube corner, the sounds of Mr. Cakes suddenly screaming filling. Pushing harder, the two men ran into the shop. The place, usually kept neat as a pin, was in a shambles. Broken cups and plates mixed with the ruined confections were scattered across the floor. Propped up against an overturned table, Mr. Cakes sat wincing as he rubbed the side if his head, the fur beginning to swell from the blow he had just received. In the corner, the cake twins whimpered and sobbed, the pegasus of the two being restrained by his sibling as he strained screaming "NO, MISTER, DONT HURT PINKIE!"

The mister in question was a brown coated grey maned stallion, he was poised over the element of laughter, his hindquarters holding her down while he took her mane in his hooves snarling, as his daughter lay weeping under the male.

Looking over her shoulder, she screeched "No, you can't do this! I won't!" and began to buck under him.

Hat now fully dislodged, Clarke bared his teeth fully, and brought a hoof down hard on her head, bellowing "Like hay you won't, you wretched girl!"

As he raised his hoof for another blow, Lero reached out with his free hand. Eyes wide in fury, Clarke bucked a leg back, and the human skidded backwards, clutching his stomach. Still holding Pinkie down, he glare balefully over his shoulder and screamed "Back the buck off monkey! Your whole thrice damn town has done enough damage."

As Lero kneeled for a moment clutching his gut, through the haze of pain he heard the words. The words, though they seemed to come to him as though he were underwater, for a moment helped Lero out of the darkness, and he felt something other then his recent pains.

Rage. Pure, unadulterated, naked fury.

Gritting his teeth, the hand on his gut leaving to tense on his raised knee, Lero tightened his grip around the handle of the telescopic baton he had been given. Pushing on his knee, he slowly began to rise, and as he did, he raised his head and watched in horror as Clarke took Pinkie's head between his hooves and wrenched it up and then down, slamming her jaw hard into the wooden floor. Standing fully now, Leros knuckles turned white and the baton began to shake in his fury.

Through the screams and cries, through the terror of Clarkes wrath, a voice rang out, softly, almost pleasantly, "Damage?"

Everyone paused, Mesa tending to Mr. Cake, who gazed disbelievingly at Lero. In the corner, the cake twins clutched each other at the look in their neighbors eyes, and under her father Pinkie whimpered at the way Lero's lips were set in a horrible grimace, like a smile that wasn't a smile, but a showing of teeth by a beast. Clarkes eye twitched as he slowly turned, and then those eyes went from anger to fear in half a second as he beheld the expression on Lero's face.

Breathing through the gritted teeth, his nostrils flaring, Lero walked forward, and said in the same conversational tone "My dear sir, I'll show you some damage."

Gasping, Clarke tried to jolt off of Pinkie, but as his hooves scrambled, he screeched as he felt fingers dig into his mane, pulling him sharply back. As he teetered on his hindlegs, his forelegs futilely looking for purchase in the air, Lero arched his baton back, and it whistled as he brought it down across Clarkes temple. Grunting, Clarke collapsed, and Lero fell with him, wailing upon his shoulders and back, one hand holding the stallions head down as its owner screamed and begged.

Eye's bulging, Lero screamed incoherently as he arched his arm for another blow, but was stilled by Mesa's hand. Breathing heavily, he looked back, his grimace softening as the soldier said "Enough, recruit." He looked for a moment at his wrist wrapped in the hand of Mesa, then he looked down at Clarke, who lay whimpering, his head covered with his hooves, numerous bloody indents from the batons end covering his neck and upper shoulders.

Looking up, his eyes grew teary as he saw the twins clutching each other, eyes wide. Slowly, he smiled, and the pegasus hide his neck against his sister, the unicorn foal clenching her eyes. Lero's smile faded as he looked behind him. During his assault, Pinkie had crawled to Mr and Mrs Cake, and was weeping, her entire body shaking with sobs. Looking down again, he saw one of Clarkes eyes uncovered, and was looking up at him hopefully. Letting the baton slip from his fingers, Lero rose, his shoulders shaking, and without a word, left the shop, not even noticing when Pinkie called out to him.

Clarke began to breathe rapidly, lips widening in a smile as he realized he would live, but he cried out again as Mesa's fingers curled into the back of his neck. Knelt down, the human ground the stallions chin into the floor, and snarled "The only reason your alive is because I don't want Lero to feel guilty killing the dad of one of his mates best friends."

Clenching the mane, Mesa pushed Clarke onto his back, then grasping a piece of the stallions vest in both hand, he drew him close, his muzzle inches from his nose. Grimacing at the smell on the equines breath, he continued "But after you spend a few nights in lock up, if I ever see you ragged ass again, I swear I will kick you plot into your shoulder blades, is that clear?"

Not waiting for a response, Mesa yanked the equine off the ground, and pushed him out the doors.