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- >The city was in ruins. Dirty snow fell from a grey sky to settle onto equally grey buildings. It lightly dusted itself over piles of rubble and broken glass; it settled on the abandoned cars and trucks that littered the streets, and it slowly put out what few fires still burnt.
- >On a roof top, two soldiers sat. The first was sitting on the edge, legs dangling over the side. The second was sitting by the stairwell door, sorting through his belongings and cleaning his gun.
- >"I've just noticed something" Jones suddenly spoke up.
- >"What is it?" asked Smith, who didn't even bother to look up.
- >Jones didn't reply at first, staring into the middle distance. "The horses-" he finally began.
- >"Ponies" Smith corrected.
- >"Whatever. The ponies then. They don't kill."
- >This made Smith pause. "What are you talking about?" he said to Jones, with a raised eyebrow. "You DO realise what we've been doing these past few weeks, right?"
- >Jones waved his hand at Smith dismissively. "Well, obviously they FIGHT! What I'm saying is they don't KILL! I mean, we have guns, right? And we aim for the centre of mass, right?"
- >"Right."
- >"See, but they don't use guns. They use their hooves, or their wings, or their freaky magic, or-"
- >"They all sound pretty deadly to me" Smith interrupted, finally putting down his weapon. "Remember when Brown died? One of those unicorns bounced him on his head! Snapped his neck!"
- >At the mention of Brown neither of them spoke for a few minutes, consumed in their thoughts. Then Jones broke the silence again.
- >"Yes, okay, that's true" he admitted. "But do you remember the look on the horse's-"
- >"Pony's."
- >"Pony's face? It looked horrified. Like it didn't know that would kill him."
- >"What about the swords then?" Smith asked. "I suppose they weren't for killing either? Or the wands? Or those weird wooden sticks that shocked people when you hit them?"
- >Jones shrugged, his eyes wandering down to the ruined street. "The sticks and wands seemed more like tasers than anything." His gaze focused on an abandoned tank, lying on its side in the middle of the road. Large circular holes had been carved into its bottom and side. "I never saw one of them stab anyone with the swords. They just used them to carve their way into the vehicles, and pull people out."
- >"And THEN kill them!" Smith concluded smugly.
- >Jones waved his hand at his colleague again, this time in annoyance. "You remember that jet that crashed a few days ago?"
- >"How could I forget! A pegasus landed on each wing and ripped them clean off! Sent it into a tailspin!"
- >"Yes, but do you remember what happened next? One of them ripped open the cockpit and flew off with the pilot! Could have let him die, but didn't! WHY?"
- >Smith rolled his eyes. "I don't know man. Maybe the horses-"
- >"Ponies"
- >"-just want lots of prisoners, or something? No good conquering a country if you kill everyone in it."
- >"I guess." Jones conceded. He gazed out into the sunset, and sighed. "Anyone on the radio?"
- >"Nope. Seen anyone else since this morning?"
- >"Nope."
- >Smith sighed as well, and checked his watch. "Give it a few more hours?" he offered.
- >"Sure."
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