Title:           Fall of Cleveland 67 - And Thus, We Come Full Circle
Author:          Spaghetti_Land
Pastebin link:   http://pastebin.com/Cwv8UjVH
First Edit:      Thursday 23rd of January 2014 01:36:52 PM CDT
Last Edit:       Thursday 23rd of January 2014 01:36:52 PM CDT

http://www.fluffybooru.org/post/view/3419
 
Written by Mayclore
 
And Thus, We Come Full Circle
>You are a soldier in A Company, 1st Battalion, 22nd Infantry Regiment.
>And you are being overwhelmed by a swarm of fluffy ponies.
>The fluffies in the airport's area have decided the humans here are a threat.
>Of course, this thought only occurred to them after you'd killed several thousand of their friends.
>They've poured over the piles of corpses clogging the barbed wire and surrounded your barracks, giving anyone who's outside 'big owwies'.
>It's about as effective as tickling a skyscraper with a dove's feather, but the horde is beginning to cause real issues.
>For one, there isn't nearly enough ammunition to deal with them all.
>For another, even though you can stomp them to death easily, that gets very tiring after a while.
>To save energy, your company commanders have decided to offload incoming supplies onto the fluffy ponies.
>The soldiers kick and stomp their way through attacking fluffies to meet the helicopters.
>Despite your dire situation, you've been asked to check on the status of 1st Battalion, 18th Infantry Regiment.
>They're based at Cuyahoga County Airport, which is even closer to the theme park than you are.
>Communication has been lost with them; helicopter flyovers have revealed only piles of fluffy ponies.
>This poses a serious problem; other units are being evacuated because of the overwhelming amount of fluffies.
>Before you can leave, you have to make sure there's no one to save at CCA.
>To this end, the Chinooks are bringing you 120mm canister rounds for your tank company's use.
>HEAT rounds get swallowed up by the fluffy goo, not that they don't do huge damage.
>And kinetic energy penetrators just kill fluffies in a straight line for a klick and a half.
>A Chinook is arriving, a crate suspended beneath its fuselage.
>It just lowers the crate onto a swarm of suddenly terrified ponies, squashing them flat.
>You rush to the crate while the horde is distracted, and pry it open.
>It's full of glorious canisters.
>The soldiers form a chain to the hangars, where the tanks are parked, and pass the shells to the crews that are with their vehicles.
>Another crate is delivered, and within the hour all the tanks are loaded full.
>At least fuel won't be a problem; after one day of trying to fight the fluffy ponies with the tanks, the Captain decided not to bother.
>The company's three platoons – twelve Abrams in all – roll out of the hangars, parting the fluffy sea with no effort.
>They crush a path to the vehicle pool.
>One more Chinook, carrying extra shotgun shells and grenades, arrives.  This one lands.
>Once the cargo is out, the four remaining civilians, people from the neighborhood that helped during the evacuation, are put on.
>They could have left earlier, but they've been killing fluffy ponies for days in an effort to reclaim their property.
>Now, they have no choice but to go.
>Once the helicopter is away, you mount up in Strykers and Humvees for the trip south.
>Four tanks will go ahead, four will be behind, and four will be with you in the middle in case anyone gets stuck.
>Because of the amount of fluffies waddling around, determining whether or not you're on a road is a crapshoot.
>The Abrams just go where the buildings aren't, and you let the Strykers' navigation handle the rest.
>In theory, you're going down State Route 2, the tanks clearing a path with canister shots.
>In actuality, you're just flattening and shredding an endless, waddling flood of fluffy ponies.
>After cutting a path south and ending up on what everyone hopes is Richmond Road, you weave through abandoned suburbia.
>Finally, the airport is in sight.
>Unlike Lost Nation, there are a lot more hangars here and only one runway.
>Some of these hangars have collapsed.
>You have to dismount and check the place on foot.
>Fluffy ponies have filled some of the hangars so full, they blew out and fell, crushing their occupants.
>Any pile of fluff less than human-sized gets a shotgun blast.  Terrified fluffies waddle away, but there are few places for them to go.
>As always, they never shut up.  They beg for food and hugs, or to help find their babies.
>If you found them, you'd just stomp them into paste.
>Fuck these things.
>You finally see some people waving out the windows of a building.
>”Did you find anyone out there?  We haven't been able to leave this structure,” a man says.
>He's wearing Major's insignia; must be the battalion executive officer.
“No sir, where were you all holed up?”
>”In the hangars!”
>You look around.  Only two of them are still standing.
“We'll check, sir.  Just hang tight.”
>With shotguns blazing, you make your way slowly to one of the two intact hangars.
>After ten minutes of shooting at the ones blocking the door, you manage to clear enough space for you to open it.
>”Hooman come fo' fwuffy?”
>”Yay, no mo' dawk!”
>”God damn, about time someone showed up!”
>Inside are about fifty soldiers and five times as many fluffies.
>Many of the ponies have wilted under the afternoon heat, and the humans don't look good either.
“Come on, let's go.”
>”Dawk pwace!  No hawt in dere!”
>You fight back a rush of fluffy ponies desperate for shade with your shotgun.
“Hurry!  Before they all come in!”
>Other soldiers help them out of the hangar.  The Staff Sergeant calls an Abrams and the Strykers around.
>If you can't reclaim this airport, you'll have to carry them back to yours.
>For now, they can get treatment from the medics riding inside.
>When they arrive, the WO that was dropped off a couple of days ago is walking beside them.
>”We should make this fast, almost all of these ponies are swollen...I wouldn't use grenades, either.”
>It takes six Strykers to fit the men you've rescued.
>Another company is helping the Major and those guys get out, so your squad goes to check the second hangar.
>The door has been jammed open. Fluffies try to push in, but can't.
>You see why as you get closer; the pile of ponies in there is at least five feet deep.
>You also see the outstretched hands of soldiers reaching up out of the fluffy mass.
>They're not moving.
“...this one's a write off.  We don't have time to dig them out.”
>You hear one of the Abrams firing their gun nearby.
>You don't think much of it until you hear yells of 'fire'.
>The WO looks around the side of the hangar.
>”I thought the power was out?  That streetlight is sparking!”
>Bloated fluffies waddle around in flames.
“Time to go!”
>Everyone mounts up again, punting away fluffy ponies as they run to their vehicles.
>The Abrams take up point, snuffing out paths with their bulk.
>You ended up in a Humvee, so you can see the flames spread.
>You stand up out of the gunner's position, firing your shotgun at the ponies trying to follow you.
>By the time your whole unit is clear of the airport, it's completely engulfed in flames.
>You receive word that the officers have asked for immediate evacuation.
>It's granted.  You're the last personnel in the theme park area, so all the helos will be coming for you.
>The equipment will have to be left, except for the tanks.  They can drive out.
>The biggest, flattest spot nearby is the space across from Euclid Square Mall on East 260th Street, so that's where you go.
>A large herd is spread out there, so you all scare them off, or shoot at them if they refuse to leave.
>A high amount of mothers defending their foals die this way.
>When the Chinooks and Blackhawks come, corpses and living fluffies alike are swept aside.
>The last fluffy pony you see before boarding is an orange and yellow one a distance away, crying as she hugs something blue and green.