Toy Soldiers

Toy Soldiers

Drake is sitting in his backyard once again. The spring sun shines down on his well manicured yard as he sips a
scotch. "Wuv pway hahaha! yay!" In front of him a young pink and green colt is playing with a few toy soldiers Drake
picked up from the dollar store. This fluffy, known only as fluffy, is giddily playing with the tiny green men.
Hugging, stacking, and knocking them over. He laughs as they fall and are thrown about. He giggles as his squishy
hooves step on the tiny people. "Big fwuffy wuv wittow hoomins! Hah ha ha!" Taking another sip of his scotch Drake
watches the small fluffy body toy with the soldiers.

Over the past week this exterminator has been caring for one of the very animals he disposes of. This little guy's
siblings and mother had climbed up into Drake's car and were asleep when he went into work last week. Needless to say,
they met a grizzly end. This little earth colt was too big and heavy to pull himself up into the warm vehicle, unlike
his pegasus family. Both fortunately and unfortunately for fluffy he was simply scared shitless as the car started
above him. But, now alone this young adolescent wouldn't survive a day on the streets. Feeling guilty about it Drake
took in the little fluffy until he is old enough, which will be in just a few days.

For now though the happy if surly colt is growing up healthy. He's eating grass, learning how to keep healthy and
clean, and not to interfere with people. The least Drake can do for this latest orphan. The exterminator has had
little work this week, but a call has come in for a full squad operation. He can't sit this out especially considering
that he leads the extermination unit. Rising from his chair the fluffy doesn't notice the quiet man move towards him.
Until he is just a few feet from the fluffy Drake remains silent, as he usually is. "Fluffy, I have to leave soon." The
fluffy is startled and turns around puffing his cheeks. "Why daddee weaff? Fwuffy wan pway wiff wittow men! Nuu wan
weaff!" Drake kneels down and pats the fluffy on the head. "No, I'm leaving for a little while. You can stay here,
remember to eat only the grass and poop in the corner okay?" "Otay daddee!"

The extermination went on into the evening. 1,200 fluffies had gathered in a valley and were heading upriver to a
town. The harbingers were restricted from using their flamethrowers in the forest preserve and so the extermination had
to be done by hand. Even Jayce was tired of killing by the end of the day. The giddy joy he receives from torture
replaced with the exasperated dryness that is tedious work. The thirty odd men of unit 7 were exhausted as they
returned home. For a time even Drake had forgotten the world once more and entered the dark existence that is
emotionless slaughter. He swore at himself afterward. This was exactly the reason he left the mercenary business.

Pulling into the driveway Drake notices his fence gate is dug under. The fence extends underground two feet save the
gate. "Damnit." Quickly moving through the gate he finds the young colt lying beside several broken toy soldiers. But,
the offending ferals are nowhere to be seen. Silently Drake moves towards the broken toy. A child or loving home
denied to him at birth, his family taken by cruel fate, and slain by his fellow fluffies. From what Drake can deduce
the ferals tried to sneak in, and fluffy here set up his soldiers to fight them. But, when the herd appeared the young
colt was beaten to death and his toys were crushed. Fecal matter covers the corpse and the small soldiers. Giving
sorry poopies to the defeated foes, or maybe before the fighting started. It's hard to say with the feces spread over
the battlefield, but the offenders had definitely won unscathed.

Tufts of pink and light green fluff litter the surrounding grass. Prints and feces lead towards the porch, but from
here the door looks secure despite stains on the deck. Drake searches the yard but finds nothing, the offenders long
gone. Drake thinks to himself how this is what would have happened anyway as he cleans the yard. He aches from the
long day, but he has long since lost the emotional sting from death. This little life was snuffed out under his care,
but it's not like he would even be here if he had checked his car. Or if his mother knew to stay away from cars. But,
as he cleans the body Drake finds the fluffy has a toy soldier, the type with the walkie talkie without a gun, clutched
in his arms in an attempt to protect it. As Drake carefully peels the legs away he holds the soldier between his
fingers. Seeing this tiny soldier causes something within Drake that has been buried deep within him to break loose.
Clutching the dirty thing to his chest Drake stares at the broken fluffy that protected the soldier with his life. And,
Drake cries.