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- >You are a soldier in A Company, 1st Battalion, 22nd Infantry Regiment.
- >You're currently at camp on the grounds of Lost Nation Airport.
- >That godforsaken theme park is six klicks due south, but you can still just see the huge spaghetti tower.
- >It's been almost a week since you were first deployed here.
- >In that time, E Company, your battalion's engineer and forward support company, has erected barracks.
- >2nd Battalion's engineers have arrived by land to help them finish up.
- >They were among the last to get here by truck; the area is too choked with fluffies to make land transport feasible any longer.
- >They're helping finish the barracks, and preparing for the next task.
- >That would be building up facilities and lengthening runways to accept fully laden C-17s.
- >Until they're done, only hit-and-miss airdrops and CH-47s will be supplying you.
- >Your job is to get and keep the fluffy ponies off the damn tarmac, and out of the engineers' way.
- >To this end, concertina wire fencing has been erected around the camp perimeter.
- >It's absolutely choked with fluffies, trapped in the barbs and unable to escape.
- >”Hooman, pwease hewp fwuffy! Meanie tingy gif big owwies, no wet fwuffy wun!”
- >”Move fwuffy! Wan wun to hooman, hooman gif nummies! Fwuffies hung'y!”
- >Fluffies outside are ramming against those stuck in the fence, pushing some through and slashing them open.
- >”Nuuuuuuu, fwuffy make boo-boo juice! Why meanie poni huwt fwuffy?!”
- >Elsewhere, fluffies climb over the piles of dead and enter the perimeter.
- >”Fwuffy see wock ting! Wock ting go to sgetti wan'!”
- >A herd of twenty waddles directly toward a runway.
- >You and your squad run over and shoo them away from it.
- >By 'shoo', you mean 'kill and throw the corpses out of the way'.
- >Fluffy patrol is endless.
- >The damn things have totally clogged the fences and are climbing in over the corpses.
- >The company commanders authorize the use of grenades to scare them off, unless they're on the runway.
- >Those on the runway have to be removed manually so not to damage the tarmac.
- >All the companies that aren't engaged in construction are now ordered to keep the runways clear.
- >Even with over seven hundred soldiers, it's still a task.
- >”Pwease hooman, onwy wan' nummies fo' babehs!” a mother with four crying foals pleads.
- >She's on the runway, so she dies, as do her children.
- >You receive word that a C-17 is inbound to land.
- >It's carrying, among other things, the Air Force traffic controllers that will be relieving the civilians who stayed here.
- >Those poor guys are due for a break. They helped direct the helicopter evacuations of the north side of Cleveland.
- >Not only do you have to prevent fluffies from reaching the runways, you have to clear the remains of those who did.
- >They may be the most pathetic creatures alive, but they're still stronger than sensitive turbofan engines.
- >You start shooting fluffy ponies at random.
- >The noise makes most of them scatter, but some are persistent.
- >”Hooman, onwy wan' know whewe big sgettis!”
- >Pop, right in the head. Throw the corpse out of the way.
- >The runway is mostly clear when the C-17 from 437th Airlift Wing arrives.
- >Everyone has to stand off to the side to avoid being blown away by the engines.
- >Fluffy ponies do not comprehend this.
- >They waddle over to hug the 'big fwy fwiend' and get hurled through the air.
- >The ones with wings seem to be happy until they crash into the ground.
- >All the others cry and shit everywhere.
- >Your company is removed from patrol to go help unload the plane.
- >This one is carrying, besides the controllers, some supplies for the camp.
- >Mostly food and some ammunition.
- >There are long wooden boxes up near the front of the cargo bay.
- “Hey, what's in these things?”
- >A loadmaster checks the manifest.
- >”Fifty new build M202s.”
- >Oh, fuck yes. You got to use an M202 in Afghanistan.
- >It's a four-barrel rocket launcher that fires incendaries.
- >Should be a huge help against the fluffy horde.
- >Under the watchful eyes of the loadmasters, it doesn't take your company long to empty the plane.
- >Unfortunately, while you were doing that, the companies on fluffy patrol lost control of the tarmac.
- >Fluffy ponies choke the runways.
- >You'll fix this. You ask for a crowbar to open up a box of M202s.
- >Your company commander approves of your idea, and soon all fifty of the launchers have been distributed and loaded.
- >After the other companies get out of the way, you begin firing rockets into the fluffy herd.
- >They catch on fire like kindling, shrieking in pain and waddling around.
- >Dumber fluffies hug them and also ignite.
- >Four rockets just set about eight hundred of them on fire.
- “That was easy...”
- >”Don't gloat, we still gotta clean all that up,” your Staff Sergeant grumbles.
- >The sight of flames causes smarter, uninjured fluffies to become afraid and flee.
- >They can't get out. There's no corpse pile to scale on this side of the fencing.
- >As it turns out, a fluffy pony burns pretty well.
- >Still have to sweep away the bones, but it's not that bad.
- >More fluffies are coming, bleating about the 'big fwy fwiend'.
- >Fuck! You'll never be able to stop all these damn things!
- “Sir, call the Captain! The plane's gotta leave before the fluffies overwhelm us again!”
- >You grab another M202 and catch a Humvee driving to the middle of the runway.
- >Once there, you stand up in the gunner's position and start launching rockets, one at a time.
- >”Nuuu! Fiuh ba' fo' fwuffies!”
- >”No cwy babeh, mumma gif huggies!”
- >”Pway?”
- >Behind you, you hear the C-17's engines power up.
- >They to taxi to the runway.
- >”Corporal, behind us!”
- >Shit, a ton of pegasus fluffies broke the perimeter.
- >”Big fwy fwiend! Wingie fwuffies wuv you, pwease take to big sgettis?”
- >You fire your last rocket into the clump.
- >”Nuuuuuuuuu, wawm! Too wawm! Fwuffy no wike! Hewp!”
- >They don't scatter.
- >”Big fwy fwiend hewp fwuffies! Meanie gif owwies!”
- >They're running right to the damn plane.
- >The C-17 has already begun its takeoff run, barreling down the tarmac.
- >The driver moves your Humvee away from the runway.
- “Sir! The runway's not clear!”
- >”It's the clearest of the two! Besides, they're empty, they said can get over the ponies.”
- >Bloated dams are being rolled toward the C-17 as it approaches.
- >”Big fwy fwiend, pwease hewp mummas fin' nummies?”
- >The increasing noise terrifies them.
- >They begin exploding out of stress, two and three at a time.
- >The C-17 is already off the ground as it reaches the pegasus fluffies, but not by too much.
- >All the remaining dams explode at once, their foals tumbling through the air.
- >Every one of them gets ingested by the number two and three engines.
- “Shit!”
- >You watch the C-17 trail flames as it tries to come back around.
- >An explosion in the number two nacelle shreds the wing, and the plane tumbles out of the sky
- >It finally crashes near the corner of Lakeshore Boulevard and Reynolds Road.
- >”Damn it! Fuck the fluffies, we've gotta get the medics over there!” your Captain yells over the radio.
- >The rest of your company and B Company mount up and head toward the camp entrance.
- >Medics are loaded into 56th's Strykers, and you all drive out toward the column of billowing black smoke.
- >You take the gunner's position again.
- >All the annoyance with your assignment is gone in a flash.
- >You're going to kill every single one of these little bastards, if it's the last thing you do.
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