//------------------------------// // 8 - Just. As. Planned. // Story: The Unlikeliest of Heroes // by TheFullCrumb //------------------------------// Many ponies who had witnessed the selfless acts done by the six champions would describe them as heroes. Yes, a few of the champions would have taken it quite well, some becoming intoxicated by it, but two stood back, shaking their heads. “The first day I agree with a xeno. Probably won't be the last.” Creed sat in a large armchair, smoking once more one of his omnipresent cigars. Sighing, he took another puff. Mewtwo floated beside him, a slightly exasperated expression on his face. “Indeed. Those four, especially Minsc, they revel in this. Raimi as well, but he has no voice.” A large apple floated beside him, his gaze falling upon it. With a quick motion, he swiped his hand, a blade of psionic energy slicing the apple in half. Levitating one half to Creed, Mewtwo opened his mouth, eating his half in one bite. Creed paid it no heed, still watching the over-eager humans interacting with ponies. Minsc had begun scratching their heads, which must have felt good, as they continued to push to get near his hand. Raimi was nowhere to be seen, apparently having left the insanity behind. “They have to understand that one of our enemies has shown their hand. I do not know if this 'Richard' is affiliated with Chaos, but I would not be surprised. Well, besides the fact he's undead.” Standing, he pulled out a small device, pressing several numbers into it. Curiosity got the better of Mewtwo's judgement as he inspected it. “What exactly does this device do?” Creed snatched it out of the air as Mewtwo floated it towards him. “A distress beacon. It utilizes warp communication to get out a message to the nearest Imperium starship. I don't know if they will get it before what might be the breaking of war on this planet, but...” He trailed off as he stared off into the distance. There was a small group, and something about them seemed familiar. “... can't be...” He stood up, retrieving a pair of binoculars from his pocket, staring through them. As soon as he was, they were gone, as if they were never there. “What did you see, Creed?” “Nothing, Mewtwo. Emperor, I think this world is making me lose touch with reality.” Jason left the group of ponies to stand with Creed and Mewtwo. “That's fucking beyond believable. It's been a single hour, and we're still getting praise from the fucking nobles, of all people. My opinion? Let the fucking nobles lose all the shit they have, see how they fucking like it.” He slumped down in another large armchair, sighing. There were definitively more nobles than commoners, that was true, but he would rather meet with the commoners than nobles. Nobles always wanted something, wanted you to do whatever their whims wanted at the time. Jason preferred working with the scientists at Big Mountain; at least they were actually correct in saying they were smarter than everyone else. Lifting a radio, he patched into his suit to contact them. “What's he doing?” “How should I know?” “Hey, Mobius! Yeah- no, I was talking to fucking nobility. No, it's not a learning- no! That's wrong on so many levels! That's bad even for you Borous!” Jason continued to explain what he had been up to, as well as the undead warlock who was psychotic, and happily so. Creed walked away, entering the kitchen. The castle itself had been damaged, so naturally the throne room was filled with refugees. Creed had to admit, he had not seen the rulers of Equestria deciding to allow those commoners who had been displaced from their homes to stay in the extra rooms inside the palace. It was something he would never have even thought of, as most of the people of the Imperium's worlds would have been conscripted into the Imperial Guard, the poor being sent directly to the Penal Legions. Creed lifted another cigar from underneath his cloak, lighting it and puffing on it as he sat there. Mewtwo seemed to be in deep contemplation, the three who had remained with the nobles removing themselves to the relative comfort of Celestia's study. Leonidas was shaking, a look of pure, abject horror on his face. “I have fought men who thought themselves gods, I have fought those who would destroy my home, but these! These nobles! They are nothing but simple-minded, snot-nosed, boot-kissing fools!” With that, he hefted his spear and hurled it through a nearby suit of armour. Jason stood up, laying his hand on Leonidas' shoulder. “Dude, chill the fuck out. It's not the end of the world, and while I'd rather see them burn in the lowest levels of Hell itself, we need them to trust us if we're ever going to figure out who is our enemy.” Jason slumped down in a chair, sighing. “Though I get your point, anyways. They have that fucking 'air of entitlement'. Bastards like that fucked up the Mojave Wasteland. House, Caesar's Legion, shit, even the New California Republic had its own share of those stupid fuckers.” He reached inside his jacket, pulling out his trusty Vault 101 canteen. Creed strode out of the kitchen, carrying a tray of bagels. “At least their rations are far better than anything we're used to, anyways, if I am to assume that military rations are of poor quality in any time?” Raimi stumbled up out of nowhere, the heavy smell of alcohol covering him. Mewtwo stood beside him, listening intently. “Well, it appears that Raimi has met with the nobles personally. To be perfectly honest in my opinion, this is a destructive way of dealing with your anger.” Creed set the tray down next to Jason, lifting Raimi to his feet. With a few slaps from his hand, Raimi was semi-lucid, and able to function without falling over. “Meeting with the Inquisition has some of the same effects, if it is to be believed. The Inquisition, however, will arrest on the slightest hint that you might be an agent of Chaos. Or the Ultramarines step on you.” He snatched a bagel from the tray, biting into it. His eyes widened as he dove into the succulent bread product with gusto. “This is incredible! The Imperial Guard have nothing of this sort, mostly just nutrient paste and the like!” He swallowed the mouthful he was happily munching on, stopping to pontificate. “Though, to be honest, Imperium officers do get excellent rations.” He munched methodically on the remainder of the bagel, licking crumbs from his fingers as he finished. Jason looked straight at Creed, his mouth in a firm crease as he shook his head. “You got better food than your troops? Everyone in the Mojave eats the same irradiated shit. That nutrient paste would be a hell of a lot better-” “I never ate the officer's food, Fawkes. I instilled a sense of hope and camaraderie with my soldiers. They were not statistics, but men. Men who knew fear, and still looked down a gun barrel directly at the very definition of fear. Men who survived through ordeal after ordeal, fighting the very same threats as the damned sons of the Emperor, the Space Marines.” A pony trotted in, carrying a tray of what appeared to three of them to be lemonade. “Lemonade.” Jason looked around, finally resting his eyes on the tray. “Dibs.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Celestia was not of a particular breed of patience, but sometimes, she could show a great deal of it when things beyond her control occurred. So, when Jason Fawkes was slammed through a nearby wall by a seemingly furious Creed, she simply lifted a cup of tea to her lips, drinking slowly. Shouting came through the new doorway as Leonidas leaped from the hole onto the other two, attempting to restrain Creed – the man was incredibly strong for a simple officer, he would have to allow him that – and keep Fawkes away from whatever the so-called 'lemonade' was. The drink intrigued him, as he had never heard of such a thing before. Minsc looked up from the petting of ponies to glare at the three who were wrestling on the ground, sighing. Without a word, he stood up, strode between them all, and proceeded to slap them. Boo, Minsc's hamster, crawled out of his shirt, seating himself near Minsc's ear. “Ah. Yes, Boo, I agree. This group could do with a swift kick in the morals.” He hauled Creed to his feet, followed by Jason and Leonidas. Leonidas was looking down at the ground, his expression pensive in nature. “Ares looks upon me with disgust. This was not an honourable battle. I will redeem myself when next we fight those who dare harm the inhabitants of this land!” He stomped away, still staring at the ground in thought. Jason rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, looking around nervously. “Uh, I'm sorry for trying to take all the lemonade?” Creed did not respond with words, but grabbed Jason and tossed him through the opening they had made, a feat not made easier by the powered armour Jason had decided to wear. He turned to Minsc, sighing. “Thank you, Minsc. I regret that I forgot myself in my rage. Those that try to take what is for a larger whole than themselves, I lose myself. It is... not something easily forgotten when it comes to war, and those who forget, well, they repeat their mistakes endlessly.” He turned to the hole, stepping silently. A glow covered the rubble, sliding it back into place as if it had never been broken. Minsc sighed. Magic was impressive for the ponies, more so than Amn or Rashemen magic. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Jason sat down, rubbing his forehead. Even though he had simply wanted to lighten the tension, he had not actually realized just how stressed the group was. Creed had simply tossed him through a stone wall as if it was paper, giving him barely enough time before he had impacted to wear his powered armour for safety. He still felt the sheer force of the impact, which had left considerable bruising, stuff that not even a stimpack would take away. “I guess I walked into that one, eh, Raimi?” Raimi snored on the ground beside him, drool covering the rug he was laying on. “Drunk off his ass, and unresponsive. Cool guy.” Mewtwo floated near the ceiling, apparently sleeping. Creed stood near the window, rubbing his chin in thought. “Hey, Creed!” Creed turned, nodding at Jason. He walked slowly over, looking out at the town. “Tell me what you see, Fawkes. Look hard. I don't want any answers a simpleton could give.” Jason looked long and hard at the city outside. He could not make anything out that seemed spectacular, nor did he see any immediate threat. “You got me. What am I supposed to be seeing?” Creed pointed down, then to various structures and sighed. “These ponies, what you would consider a working class of sorts, are helping each other, working together. Humanity has tolerated each other long enough to do such things, but never to this scale. This is something many an Imperial general sought. Macharius was such a man. Beneath his tactically cold skin, he was alive, passionate, with a fire that matched his devotion to the Emperor. Although his ideals were lofty, when he died, the area he conquered was partitioned by his generals in what was known as the Macharian Heresy.” He raised a bagel to his mouth, chewing slowly. “Food for thought, Fawkes.” Creed left the group to either sleep, or in Jason's case, mull over what he had said. He had more important tasks on hand. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The west wing of the palace was quite devoid of life, much of it having burned down. Creed stood at what passed for a grave marker, the names of all who perished emblazoned in the hard bronze. It was a memorial, and he could not stand the sight of it. With a shuddering sigh, he sank to his knees. Memories of his family came flooding in, his wife and son butchered by the forces of Chaos. His hand rose up to cover half of his face as he stared at the names. “And here I thought Creed was a man above emotion. Sometimes, I love to be proven wrong.” A voice from behind him startled him into drawing his Hellpistols. “No need for that, General. Just stating a fact.” He turned to face a man in a long coat, his torso glowing with a faint blue energy. “What does the Inquisition want with this world?” The Inquisitor laughed, putting his own weapon back into its holster. A small squad of men appeared from behind him, one in a large metal suit carrying a plasma cannon. “It's not what I want, but what is needed. Do not let the others know of our presence, but there are forces in orbit ready for any battle. We will stay in touch.” Creed nodded, looking back to the memorial. “What about the dead?” “What about them?” Creed turned back to find the Inquisitor gone. “Death is inevitable, Lord Castellan.” A small device was tossed onto the ground. It appeared to be some sort of heavily modified vox caster implement. “Burn their names into your mind, Creed. Let their memory fuel your fight. Someone's coming. We have to go.” The quiet sound of small lasers activating announced the departure of the strange Inquisition squad. He could have sworn he had seen them before. Footsteps behind him returned his attention to someone else arriving. He turned and faced Jason, who arrived with armour on and a small revolver drawn. “Sorry for eavesdropping, but I could have sworn I heard someone mocking the dead. Whoever did, he's gonna fucking pay.” Jason glanced around, attempting to locate the scoffer. Sighing, he let his weapon disappear. Stepping out of his armour, he pressed a few buttons and let the equipment disappear. “It was nothing I could not handle personally, Fawkes. Come, let's go back. We need to start a plan, and we need to figure out what is going on. That undead warlock... I have a feeling he was not the first we will face-” “Villains are aplenty, my friends. But Boo reminded me of the strange ponies... in the weird desert... and they smelled like wet laundry.” Fawkes left, leaving Minsc and Creed together. “Minsc, what do you think of the situation?” Minsc looked down at Boo, frowning. He glanced up, sighing as he put his hand on Creed's shoulder. “Villainy is rampant, and we do not know why. Magic is impressive.” He turned to leave, but stopped. “So are we, Creed of Cadia.” Creed stared at the massive mountain of a man who had just spoken to him as if he was a familiar. “Who are you, Minsc, and how do you know of Cadia?” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- In the far reaches of the wasteland beyond the Everfree forest, a light as red as blood shone around, illuminating everything it was near. A man appeared, standing up straight. His assault rifle seemed quite old, with wear and tear from cuts and whatnot marking the metal of it. The eagle on his cap was spattered with blood, his uniform covered in it. He looked up quickly, his eyes glowing a bright blue. Another of the strange gateways opened, and swarms of groveling, moaning, and hungering creatures staggered through. Above him on the cliff stood Richard the Warlock, focusing his magic on a rather large blood-red gem. The man in the eagle cap smiled as he regarded the warlock fondly. “Your portal is done. Also, you lost my fork. Ah, I still have my bag.” He reached into a flowery bag he had draped over his shoulder, withdrawing another fork. He jammed it into the dirt, dancing around. “There's a fork in the road! Get it?.. you're no fun.” The man below began to laugh, wiping his eyes from the tears that were streaming down his face. “Ah, mein goot freund. It is very goot to see you vonce more. Ja, ja, ze undead. I control zem, ja.” He continued to laugh as he pointed at the warlock. “But I do not control you! Ha ha! I find zat funny.” Richard furrowed his brow, thinking. “So, you a friend of Kale's... nevermind.” The man continued to laugh, pointing at Richard with malevolence in his voice. A demonic undertone echoed as he spoke. “Do not worry, mein freund. The Good Doctor, Edvard Richtofen, is here! Let us go see ze infirm... and experiment!” With that, Richtofen followed Richard as he wandered off, humming Panzerlied as he walked. “Ob's stürmt oder schneit...”