Advertisement
Not a member of Pastebin yet?
Sign Up,
it unlocks many cool features!
- >You are a soldier in A Company, 1st Battalion, 22nd Infantry Regiment.
- >Your unit is currently in Humvees travelling toward the city of Cleveland along Lake Erie on Ohio State Route 2.
- >Just about to reach the interchange with I-90, and there's not a soul on the roads.
- >You'll be meeting up with C Company, 2nd Battallion, 56th Stryker Brigade, a unit from the Pennsylvania National Guard.
- >They've been here for a while; their vehicles were required to help make a path for evacuees.
- >Clumps of fluffy ponies dot the roadside.
- >You've lost count of how many your vehicle's run over.
- >It's not long before you see the Strykers up ahead.
- >After coming to a halt and exchanging hellos, their company commander and yours start fleshing out details.
- >III Corps in Fort Hood, Texas, the final word in the field for this operation, issues orders.
- >They want your two units to determine how far light vehicles can penetrate into the city.
- >You're not even bothering with the theme park itself, it's overwhelmed.
- >”Pway?” a fluffy pony asks, waddling over.
- >“Why hooman fwuff wook funny?”
- >Kick that bastard clear off the bridge.
- >You hear a chorus of 'new fwiend!' and 'gif huggies!'
- >Mount up again and continue down I-90, Humvees leading the way.
- >The closer you get to Cleveland, the more fluffies begin choking the roads.
- >Pretty soon, you're driving through a living sea, screaming 'pwease move!' and 'fwuffy no can wun!'
- >”Damn it, it feels like ice!” the driver complains.
- >Fluffy pony gore defeats the traction of your tires.
- >He opens the door and looks down. Several fluffies try to hug him.
- >”Hey, Ramirez! Open up with the forty!”
- >The gunner, standing up in the back, acknowledges. Grenades begin pelting the fluffy ponies.
- >The explosives manage to dent the squirming fluffy glob, and the noise makes them scatter.
- >Scatter might be a generous term.
- >They waddle at top speed, which is approximately not very fast miles an hour.
- >You can move forward again, but you only reach Gordon Park before you get bogged down.
- >”Fuck me upside down on a pogo stick,” the driver exclaims. Fluffy ponies choke the landscape.
- >Untold hundreds are washing up on the shores of Lake Erie to your right.
- >”Charlie Company, bring up your Strykers and clear us a path, would you?”
- >The IFVs rumble past you, their sloped forward undersides shoving piles of the screaming creatures away.
- >They look like wakes of water, if they could talk, bleed, and cry.
- >Your Humvees fall in behind them and continue on
- >When you reach the East 55th Street bridge, there are so many ponies, their compressed corpses lift the Stryker's front ends up.
- >Not even their eighteen tons can squish the dead enough to press on.
- “I'm calling the Captain. Sir, we got to East 55th and I-90, but not even the Strykers can get any farther.”
- >You have to yell over the noise of fluffies begging for food, screaming in pain, and asking where Spaghetti Land is.
- >”Roger, I'll send it along to regimental HQ.”
- >”Man, we need a fucking Abrams,” the guy in the left rear seat says.
- “Now that you mention it, where the hell is Dealer Company?”
- >Before you can ask the Captain, you realize something.
- >Your vehicles are surrounded by fluffies, two and three deep.
- >They want hugs, and food, and directions.
- “Oh...shit.”
- >You try backing up, only for the pile of dead you create to lift up your rear tires.
- “Captain, we're stuck and surrounded!”
- >The Strykers have better luck.
- >Their infantry passengers emerge and start blasting fluffies with their M1014 shotguns.
- >The shots scatter enough grieving fluffies for the Humvees to start rolling.
- >”Why huwt fwuffy?!”
- >Fuck, do these things ever shut up?
- >Everyone but the drivers have to get out now, stomping and kicking and shooting fluffies so their vehicles can get going.
- >This oughta look real good in the regimental history. From Hemingway in France to slaughtering living kids' toys in Ohio.
- >More fluffies are coming in from behind you, half screaming about that damn theme park.
- >Others are crying about a 'big wooshy munsta'.
- >You look up. Thank fuck, an M1A2 is coming.
- >Its sixty-eight ton bulk flattens the little bastards into bloody puddles.
- >It pulls up to the rear of your procession, does a pivot turn, and plows a path back.
- >After a lot of three point turns, you fall in behind it.
- >The fluffies waddle away from the turbine noise, so you have much better luck getting back to the interchange.
- >Now the ruined theme park is off to your right.
- >The best way you can describe the sight surrounding it is a pile of fluffies.
- >Once you get back, your company checks in and gets the word from other companies that have attempted to reach Cleveland.
- >Sounds like those west of the city have fared a little better than you, as they were going with the fuzzy flow.
- >Fluffies continue to accost you, begging for help in reaching the 'big sgettis'.
- >You kick them. Some of the other soldiers turn them into bloody poofs with a shotgun shell.
- >The company commander is already talking about artillery and air support.
- >He also remarks about reports of people still in the city, but they're on their own.
- >III Corps will have to take the fluffy problem a bit more seriously now.
- >You continue to kick fluffies that waddle up to you.
- >You're not shooting them, yet.
- >Probably will on your way back to the camp at Lost Nation Municipal Airport.
- >If these fluffy little bastards haven't overrun it by now.
Advertisement
Add Comment
Please, Sign In to add comment
Advertisement