During a mass teleport spell gone wrong, six... well, heroes would be giving them too much credit. Six beings of differing abilities are brought into Equestria, not knowing why they are there, but that someone needs liberal buttkicking!
During events in their worlds gone wrong, six... well, heroes would be giving them too much credit. Six beings of differing abilities are brought into Equestria, not knowing why they are there, but that someone needs liberal buttkicking!
A king, a general, a ghost hunter, a psychic being, a delivery-person-turned-soldier, and a ranger.
And then came a day unlike any other, where six champions would be needed. Champions that, for lack of a better explanation, had no business being together.
Warning: There will be liberal butt-kicking, for goodness!
Within the Canterlot Library, there existed a section, books upon prophecy lining the shelves. Usually, even the librarians would rather not stay in that area for too long, as some would say it was haunted by those doomed by prophecy.
That day, one single lavender unicorn had decided to embark on a quest to discover a prophecy that would change Equestria. She had no inkling of what her end result would be, but she dove head-first into her research anyways. One particular book, simply title “Book of Champions” intrigued her. Delving into the pages between the dusty cover, she stared at a single prophecy, one that foretold of six that would come.
“'And in that time would be a day unlike any other, where six champions would appear in the land that existed. A general, a ranger, a hunter, a mercenary, a king, and a being of powers beyond understanding. Six would come, where they would do battle against foes most insidious, foes that no being before them would ever have prepared for.' That... sounds like something I should bring up with Celestia.” The unicorn, her horn glowing with magenta energy, levitated the book into a saddlebag that rested against an old wooden bench that appeared to have not been cleaned for years. She tied the bags tightly, her horn flashing as she disappeared.
Inside the palace, two princesses were seated. The room was sparsely decorated, save for a single gold-and-red rug that ran from their thrones to the entrance of the main hall. The eldest, a white alicorn of modest nature, a sun emblem adorning her flank. The younger, a dark blue alicorn with a moon adorning her flank, sat still, her eyes wandering. Both seemed bored, as the eldest let out a sigh. Nothing of merit had happened recently. No evil villains, aside from Discord returning. It seemed all was well again. A large flash returned their focus to the present. The lavender unicorn stood panting, her eyes wide.
“Princesses! I have found a prophecy you both might want to see!” The eldest stood, walking slowly down the steps.
“My faithful student, what kind of prophecy has you in such-” Her gazed hovered over the Book. “Is that-” The younger, not wishing to be left out of the proceedings, followed suit. Her mouth was open as she stared at the simple cover of the Book.
“That is the book of champions! Where did you find it, Twilight Sparkle?” Twilight looked towards a stained glass window, depicting six faceless champions, each in a different glowing armour, fighting away a dark evil that was unknown.
“In the almost-unknown Prophecy section of the Library. I found this book there, with various other books and tomes.” She levitated the book out, revealing the prophecy to the princesses. Their expressions changed from concern to outright worry.
“You were right to bring this to us, Twilight.” The eldest approached the window, staring up. “Years ago, before even I ruled with Luna, there was a darkness. Something beyond the comprehension of ponykind. It threatened all life in the nations, not just ponies.” She turned back around, her eyes seeming distant. “I only heard stories, but according to legend, six champions, ones that seemed to possess power even beyond our own, entered our world. The darkness fought the six heroes, to no avail.” She sounded as if she was remembering events as they unfolded. Her voice was quiet as she spoke of the darkness. “It summoned dark champions, fighters of unbelievable evil that threatened to rend the very fabric of this world. They did battle against the champions of good.” She turned to the window again, the faintest of smiles spread across her face. She turned back to Twilight. “The champions of good decimated the dark champions, banishing them to the dark worlds they had come from.” Her face turned towards the ground. “But-” Her sister turned to her.
“I remember what comes next. 'But the darkness was not defeated. It vowed to return, when the world would not know of it, and when the champions could not know to save the world.'” She stared at her sister, a small frown crossing her face. “Unfortunately, the world no longer knows of such evil, my sister. That means...” Celestia nodded to her sister.
“That the time of the return is approaching fast. Twilight, there is something I must show you.” Twilight nodded, obediently following her mentor.
Within a dark corner of the Canterlot Palace, a room, empty save for two alicorns, a unicorn, and a pentagram, stood as a dark reminder of the past.
“Twilight, my dear student. Our father let us know of this room before he... disappeared. This was the room that, in ancient times, the six champions were summoned by. In that time, there were five unicorns to summon champions that were of great deed, and pure of heart. Now there are only us three that can perform the spell effectively.” Twilight silently pointed to herself under the dim glow of the white pentagram. “Yes. You are one of the three. It will be a dire time soon, I fear. That means we must be prepared. Luna, Twilight.” Celestia stood at one point of the pentagram, her sister taking up another point. Twilight stood at a third point, staring down at the centre. “Just follow my lead, and we should be fine.” Each focused their magic in turn, the energy swirling around them. A small ball of pure magic gathered in the centre, becoming a flat disc. The eyes of all three were glowing white, their magic at its peak. Lightning, blue in colour and ethereal in nature, crackled as it arced across the pentagram. Six forms began to permeate the disc, their forms shifting. Almost as soon as they began to solidify, the disc began to collapse. The figures shot away through the walls, to parts unknown. The spell began to fully collapse, the room shaking itself apart. Celestia and Luna stepped back, their eyes wide in fear. Twilight began to sway, her magic reserves almost completely empty. The two sisters dragged Twilight with them, their own reserves too depleted to attempt even a simple telekinesis spell. As they left, the room collapsed, stones blocking the pentagram. Twilight lay still, unconscious. Celestia looked at Luna, who shrugged with her wings.
“I do not know what happened, dear sister. All I can ask is, if we were successful in summoning our champions of good, where in Equestria are they?”
Tzeentch, the God of Change and Master of Fates, stared at the chessboard in front of him. The mortal he faced stared intently at the pieces on the board, a dark cloak covering his entire form. He had wanted this mortal's soul for either millenia, or only a few short minutes, who could tell from within his realm?
The mortal moved a piece, waiting for Tzeentch.
Smugly, Tzeentch moved another piece.
The chess game had been going on for what would seem to the mortal hours, but Tzeentch had played chess for many years before with the lives of mortals instead of chess pieces.
The mortal moved for several turns.
Tzeentch moved for several turns.
The mortal finished one move, staring smugly at the board. Reaching beneath his dark cloak, he retrieved a thick Cuban cigar, placing it between his teeth. Staring at Tzeentch, he smiled.
“Got a light?” Tzeentch shook his head in amazement, his finger lighting on fire. The cigar began to smolder, smoke trailing off the end. Tzeentch stared at the mortal's smug face. He had planned this moment from the beginning of time immaterial, for the mortal to fall in this game to a “convenient” counter in chess. The mortal moved one more piece, leaning back in his chair as he stared contently at the board. Tzeentch stood to laugh, preparing to gloat.
“I am Tzeentch, the God of Change, the Master of Fates, the Lord of Destinies! I am ever-present, ever-moving, ever-shifting! There is no way-” Tzeentch stared down at the board. Something was off. The mortal had begun to chuckle.
“Check again, Tzeentch.” The God of Change stared down upon his chessboard, realizing what the mortal had meant. There was a pawn, just behind his line, that he had never even noticed. Tzeentch screamed, for he knew what it meant.
It was checkmate. He had lost, albeit unintentionally.
“No~!” Tzeentch's scream echoed throughout his realm, the agony of loss portrayed within. The mortal stood to leave, waving at the Master of Fates.
“Maybe next time, Tzeentch. Your strategies need work.” Tzeentch stood to face the mortal.
“No! There is one last thing I have to say!” Tzeentch pointed a single, elongated finger at the cloaked mortal. “Goodbye!” A large portal appeared behind the figure, much to the mortal's chagrin. Without a sound, just a smug look, the mortal was sucked through the portal, to worlds unknown. Tzeentch settled down into another chair. In his mind, this would never come back to hurt him. Not one of the others that ruled his realm alongside him would know of his loss to a mortal.
In another world, another time, another place, a large battalion of Griffon soldiers marched in turn to drumming by their regimental drummer. Their dark grey steel armour contrasted greatly with their brown and white feathers. Two figures stood upon a balcony, staring down.
“King Justicar, is it not time for us to retire to our quarters? The drills can wait until this afternoon, right?” A female griffon, dressed in dark red and blue, bowed before the regal male that stood in front of her.
“Gilda, it's not time yet. Maybe you should regale me with the stories of your Equestrian 'conquests' again?” The king laughed at his own joke, much to the chagrin of Gilda.
“That's not funny at all.” Gilda stepped away from Justicar, standing inside the Great Hall of the Griffon capitol. Made of grey slabs of granite, it was sparsely decorated with swords, spears and shields, each weapon engraved with a dead warrior's name. The two thrones for herself and Justicar sat side-by-side near the door to the balcony. She stood there, sighing. “I wish I could have told you, Rainbow. Being royalty is stressful.” She wandered over to her seat, slumping down in the red velvet cushion attached to the oak chair. Almost as if on cue, a guard griffon, panting and grunting, charged through the entrance doorway to the Great Hall.
“My princess!” The guard turned around to protect itself in case something were to attack fro the rear. “Something has attacked the castle! We know not what it is!” A loud blast of what sounded like a cannon echoed through the structure.
“Get the battalion out front, and find whatever is doing this! Kill them!” The guard nodded, turning around to come face-to-face with what appeared to be a metal tube. Towering over him was a large figure, cloaked in a material that did not appear to be anything made by Griffons. It stood on two legs, what appeared to be a five-fingered claw grasping onto a small metal box with a tube attached. The guard backed up quickly, just before a crimson blast issued forth from the tube, crisping his chest. He was dead before he hit the ground.
“You should train your guards to expect the unexpected, and to prepare for any eventuality. My troops would never have been taken by surprise so easily.” Gilda stood up, her legs shaking. She was a griffon! Why did this bipedal make her so afraid?
“How did you get past all the guards without them catching you?” The figure smiled smugly. Grasping the cloak with his free hand, he ripped it from his self, tossing it to the side. Underneath, the bipedal looked like no creature Gilda had ever seen before. His dark green jacket was adorned with medals, and two metal skulls attached by a single chain. His uniform was dark grey, with strange armour covering it. His face was pockmarked with scars, the most prominent one over his left eye. His mouth was upturned in a smug grin, a cigar burning in his mouth.
“Tactical genius...” He smiled even further. “... hurr.” The bipedal stood at attention, his short, black hair attributing to his military career.
“Who, and what are you?!” The bipedal stepped forward, placing the metal box into a leather sleeve attached to his side.
“I am the Lord Castellan of the world Cadia. My name is Ursarkar E. Creed, in charge of the defense of my homeworld.” He stared at the smoking corpse of the griffon. “He was the only casualty. Don't worry. I'm a general, not a mass murderer.” He sat down on a chair in the middle of the Hall, staring at Gilda.
“I am the Princess-” A voice from behind her startled her.
“Who is this strange creature, and why is he in my general's seat?” Creed merely smiled. He chuckled, his soft 'hurr' reaching Justicar's ears. “Why do you dare laugh?” Gilda stepped in front of her father, holding up one clawed paw.
“Father, he is Creed. He's a general from a place called Cadia. He was able to get past our best guards, all 99 of them?”
“99?” Creed motioned to the corpse of the guard still by the door. “... oh.” Creed returned to a standing position, moving towards the window.
“Drills. Pointless unless you are practicing for war.” Justicar glared at the back of the general.
“And what would you know of these matters?” Creed did not even turn to give consideration to the question.
“I've fought in wars that would make you tear your own eyes from your sockets. It was a sad day when that squad of promising guardsmen did that. Too bad.” He stared down. “You always must be prepared for war.” He turned back to the king. “Let me train them.”
“I'm sorry, why should I let you do that? You burst into my throne room, making it past my veteran guards-”
“Tactical genius, hurr.”
“Stop it!” He huffed, angry that Creed would dare interrupt him. “- and dare to ask to train my forces?” He stopped for a second. If that single bipedal had been able to make it past his guards, with only one dead, then Creed was right. “All right. You train them. But if you try to overthrow myself or my court, you will be executed!” Creed merely shrugged.
“You're just like a Space Marine Chapter Master. 'You Imperial Guard soldiers will make your last stand today!' Flying away in their transports before they even get hurt. Bastards.” Justicar looked over to Gilda, who whispered harshly.
“I have no idea what a 'Space Marine', or a 'Chapter Master' is. You know as much as me.” Creed turned back to the two.
“All right. Let's get this started. I don't want to keep your troops waiting.” Creed stopped, reaching into his jacket to pull out another cigar to replace the one he was smoking. It was almost burned out. Retrieving a lighter as well, he lit the end, breathing deep. “Nothing better than a cigar from holy Terra.”
Days turned into weeks, and those weeks became long and tedious. Creed ran those griffon troops through every Imperial Guard training regimen he knew, and he knew almost all of them by heart. Firing drills, marching in pattern, scout tactics, and anything else his tactical mind saw fit to use.
One day, he stood in front of the griffon army, turned from what would be called a bunch of lily-livered, gut-sucking cowards, to a force to be reckoned with. He smiled smugly down at them.
“Today is the day you all may have dreaded, or waited for. The day you march. I know not all of you know why we march, but there is war. Always war to be had, no matter where one looks. To be prepared for any fight is the best defense, and offense.” He stared down at the griffons, the sergeants he had appointed yelling orders to the troops. “And before everything, what is there?” He yelled down at the troops. Every single one repeated in unison.
“Tactical genius! Hurr!” Creed smiled. He was so proud. They all wore dark green armour, similar to what he would have given a Guardsman recruit. He felt elation that they, even though they would never be a part of the Imperium, they would still uphold the honour and dignity of the Imperial Guard.
“For the Emperor!” Justicar stood behind Creed, sighing.
“I know you are a general, but changing our country to the Griffon Empire? Does that not change things for you?” Creed turned to stare at the newly appointed Emperor.
“I serve an Emperor of sorts, back on my world. It would take too long, and take too many resources, to explain who he is.” Creed stepped down from the platform, drawing the cloak he had arrived in tightly around himself. “We shall meet again, although it might be under different circumstances. If my Emperor would give me the honour, I would enjoy testing the mettle of your troops against my Guardsmen. Farewell, Emperor Justicar! I hope you reign wisely, and with great tactical prowess!” With that, the Lord Castellan of Cadia left in a flourish, walking down the stairs towards a cart that had been prepared for him. Seating himself beside two griffons that had been appointed as his personal guard, he smiled. The cart moved, an ox dragging it slowly.
“It is an honour to serve you, Lord Castellan Creed. We will serve ours and your Emperor with all of our ability.” The griffons saluted, the cloaks they wore matching Creed's. Unlike the other griffons in the green armour, theirs was black, with twin skulls on the chestplate, although cleanly covered by their dark cloaks.
“Please. It is just Creed for you. Lord Castellan is my title of office.” He stared up at the sky. Snow had begun to fall, the sensation thrilling for Creed. Snow was always a sign of rebirth, something that many under his command had experienced, becoming veterans instead of heroes and martyrs. He looked at the road in front of them. It was going to be a long ride to the place that the griffons called “Canterlot.” He was looking forward to seeing another place, and maybe become a general there, high-ranking, with all the power he already held. He knew one way to get it. The griffons that sat with him did not understand his smug look, or what he said. “Tactical genius... hurr.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Author's Notes are non-functional:
Yes, the first person of the six beings entering is none other than LORD CASTELLAN URSARKAR E. CREED OF CADIA, a pivotal figure of Warhammer 40,000, a tabletop game created by Games Workshop Just wait for the next chapter. You might enjoy that, too.
The loud battlecries of a soldier echoed through the accursed halls of the vampire lord. The flash of his sword, the guitar-like sound of his bow, and the clanking of claw against gleaming armour that would be befitting of a king. The hero's helmet shone with the glory of battle, his boots allowing him to dodge many hits. A vampire stopped to stare at his adversary, attempting to talk him down.
“Why do you act as such, ranger? You could join with us, be even stronger.” The ranger threw his fist forwards, smashing the vampire's nose squarely into his face. He fell, the blood pooling around his head.
“No. I do not act. I fight, and fight for real!” Slinging his bow across his shoulder, and sheathing his sword, he stared down the crowd of vampires that he faced. “Is this how it is? Then, it shall be!” He charged forward, squeaking in his pocket not even bothering him. Bringing his fist into one vampire's face, he carried the vampire into the next, crashing them both into a convenient wooden spike pointing out from the wall. Their hearts pierced, they vaporized into dust. “Liberal butt-kicking, for goodness!” The vampires began to back up, their red eyes smoldering with anger.
“Die, ranger! You will face my wrath this day!” The vampire lord, a terrible being of twisted flesh and bone, indescribable, at least by the ranger. The ranger began to charge forward, breaking through the lines of vampires in front of him, the creatures flying left and right.
“Ma-” And that was all that came from the ranger's mouth as the vampire lord held his hand to the ranger, a strange energy overtaking him, although he still kept his momentum. Within seconds, the ranger vanished.
“Now he is the problem of another. Come, let us feast upon the blood of hamsters!”
Within the Badlands, there existed a certain hive. A hive of pony-like beings that could shift forms, shapeshifters, Changelings. Usually, the hive would have been quite, the darkened tunnels only navigable by their own kind. At least, before that day. Something was screaming in the darkened tunnels. One changeling stared at another.
“Is something... yelling at us? I don't quite understand it.” The other stared back, dumbfounded.
“It sounds like a battle cry-” The sentence was not finished as the burly form of the ranger barreled through them, coming to a stop in the midst of a large chamber. Changelings stared at him, their fangs shown, their eyes wide in shock. The ranger merely smiled, put his head down, screamed a battle cry, and charged.
“Make way, villainy! Hero coming through!” Changelings, just like the vampires he had fought mere moments before, went flying right and left as before. The Changelings had more sense than the vampires, as they had backed away from the ranger, although some poor souls still ended up in the ranger's path. “Liberal butt-kicking, for goodness!” A small hamster made its way to the shoulder of the ranger, squeaking in his ear. The ranger ignored the hamster's squeals, continuing his charge until the changeling horde spread out into a circle. The ranger stood still, staring at a very large Changeling that stood in front of him. His armour was dull white in the dimness of the chamber.
“What are you doing to my subjects, you foul beast?! My Changelings did nothing to you!” The ranger stood still, staring backward in confusion.
“I do not cause trouble! I merely seek it out and put the bootheels of justice to it!” He held up the small rodent, who stared. “Ask Boo!” Boo squeaked loudly, shaking his head. “Boo! Tell the strange four-legged creature!” Boo shook his head. The ranger turned around, facing the Changeling horde. Many of the ones he had knocked out of the way had stood back up, albeit covered in purple bruises. “Those... were no vampires?”
“I don't care what a 'vampire' is. You attacked us! For that, you will be imprisoned!” Without warning, bars of steel fell from the ceiling, covering the ranger. The ranger's forehead pulsed with a single vein.
“These bars will not hold my wrath! Minsc will be free! Butts shall be liberally kicked in good measure!” Minsc, the ranger, gripped the bars tightly. His armour bulged slightly, hidden muscles bulging as the front of the cage was rended open. Minsc stood still, staring at the large Changeling. “Make way, evil! I am armed to the teeth, and packing... a hamster!” The large Changeling stared down at him, unsure what to make of what he just said.
“A hamster? You expect me to be- Aah! Get him off!”
“Go for the eyes, Boo! Go for the eyes! Raaauuuggh!” Minsc charged forward, only to be lifted off his feet. Boo floated beside him, staring intently at the strange Changeling.
“I am Queen Chrysalis! Bow before me and tremble!” Minsc stared down at Chrysalis, his arms crossed.
“This behaviour must not continue. Feel the burning stare of my hamster and change your ways.” Minsc's helmet fell off, clattering to the ground. His bald head, along with the peculiar blue tattoo that was painted just under his right eye, but reached up to just below where his hairline would be, was bared to all. He stared down, drawing his bow. Reaching into his bag, he drew forth an arrow that he knew would work. “Arrow of Piercing!” The arrow let loose, unfortunately flying backwards through a line of changelings. Their purple blood flowed quickly onto the ground, leaving Minsc with a puzzled look on his face. “Those never work...” He stared at Boo, who squeaked quickly. “Of course! They have no armour, and thus, no defense!” Within a few seconds, Minsc was holding five of the Piercing Arrows. “Perfect!” With a precise shot, the five arrows found marks, and continued to move, unhindered by the carapaces of the Changelings. Chrysalis stared wide-eyed at the ranger's mayhem.
“Stop! I beg of you! Stop slaughtering my Changelings!” Minsc stopped again.
“They were most definitely not vampires, right?” Boo slapped his small forehead with his paw at Minsc's stupid question. He squeaked at Minsc quite angrily. “They were not, Boo? Oh, my mistake!”
“They are not evil at all!” Minsc stared down at the Changelings.
“They look evil-”
“Do you always judge everything by how it looks?!” Chrysalis changed into another form, that of a cream-coloured filly. “I can change my appearance!” Minsc rubbed his hands together. He drew his sword, Foebane, one that had extra damage against shapeshifters,
“Boo points, I punch. Is very simple relationship, but it works.” Boo nodded, then pointed at the wall. “Where Minsc goes, evil stands aside!” With one solid punch, the brittle wall of the hive came crashing down. Minsc was blinded temporarily by the sunlight that pervaded the room, his armour gleaming in the sudden light. Minsc clambered out, staring at the Badlands, an arid wasteland of nothingness. Minsc stared back inside at Chrysalis.
“How dare you?!” Minsc held up a hand.
“My skin may not have scales, but it has seen many suns come and go.” Boo squeaked beside him. “Boo thinks you could use some sun too.” He turned back around. “Then you might not smell so much like wet laundry.” Minsc strode forth, completely and utterly forgetting one thing. Boo squeaked. “My helmet!” Minsc quickly sprinted back inside, placing his helmet back on his head. “Goodbye, shapeshifters.” He sheathed his sword, staring at the Badlands again. He broke off at a sprint, Boo just barely holding on to the neckguard of his armour.
For days and weeks, Minsc walked. When he had arrived at what he assumed was civilization, he stood in front of the strangest town he had ever seen. It was pink, bright pink. Even Boo did not have an opinion. Equines wandered about, only to stop and stare at the giant of a man. Minsc removed his helmet, scratching his bald head. Some ponies stopped to point at the strange purple tattoo on his head. His armour glinted once more in the bright sunlight.
“These are... these-” A huge smile spread across his face. Something he had always wanted to do, but never got a chance to. “Ponies!” He reached deep into his travel sack, removing a small brush. “Brushie, brushie!” He proceeded to drop his bag, his helmet, and Boo, to chase around the pony inhabitants of the town, attempting to brush them down. Boo slapped his forehead with his palm again. He squeaked, shaking his head.
For the next few hours, the inhabitants of the pony town were chased around by the strange, giant minotaur-like being. The clanking of its armour gave Minsc away when he was chasing the ponies. One he had set his sights on dove quickly into a small doorway. Without even a second thought, Minsc charged forward, only to have his head collide with the upper part of the doorjamb. With the loudest slam possible, he fell backwards, metaphorical stars in his head. He stared at the sky.
“There must be more pretty flowers, right, Boo?” Minsc passed out, a large gash on his forehead slowly seeping blood. The ponies gathered around, lifting the strange creature up. There was only one place that would be safe to contain such a strange creature, along with the best creature expert their side of the Everfree.
Boo followed the group of ponies, squeaking at them to point out the equipment. The bag and helmet just sat in the middle of town, a clear target for thieves. Boo clambered up Minsc's trailing arm, hearing the man snore while mumbling. “Mmm... liberal buttkicking... mmm... for goodness...” The group of ponies stopped outside of a cottage, the size much larger than the normal houses they had. Depositing him on the ground, they knocked on the door.
“Miss Fluttershy? Can you give us a hoof out here?” A cream-coloured pegasus pony, with a cotton-candy pink mane, slowly opened the door, then threw it open when she saw Minsc.
“Oh my goodness. Is it all right? It looks hurt.” She touched her hoof to Minsc's forehead, the blood having coagulated from before. Boo stepped up onto Minsc's head, staring up at the pony. He squeaked, a tear in his eye. “Your name is Boo? Oh, this is your friend? He ran into a door? Oh, how dreadful!” She whistled, many of her animal friends wandering out to help lift the heavy giant of a man into her house. A single white bunny hopped onto her back, locking eyes with Boo. Their eyes glared daggers back and forth, unseen by Fluttershy.
Minsc slowly woke to the sound of items being thrown. His eyes opened to see Boo catching objects and throwing them back to where they had come from. Turning his head, he saw a rabbit throwing food, small dishes, and seeds at Boo. Without thinking, Minsc grabbed a pillow, and hurled it at the rabbit. The rabbit lost its temper, throwing a pan at Minsc. Minsc caught the pan with his hand, holding it tightly.
“No beast shall throw a metal pan at Minsc!” Boo hopped off Minsc as the ranger sat up. He slid off the bed, charging the bunny as Minsc would a crowd of enemies. His angry squeaking was all that could be heard as Minsc just plainly stared. While Boo was his hamster, and Boo would usually go for the eyes when he said, he had never seen Boo get in a rumble with a rabbit before. A door opened, startling Minsc. He attempted to draw his bow, realizing that it was not with him. Looking around, a glowing outline showed itself to him. He was about to go for it when a cream-coloured pegasus pony entered. She simply stared at the miniature fight happening below, while Minsc froze.
“Oh my. You two shouldn't be fighting. Angel? Boo?” Boo stared up at the pony with big eyes. Angel merely tapped his foot angrily. Minsc slowly moved towards his gear, grabbing it quickly. Even though the pony only came up to his waist, he was still wary of her. “I'm sorry, but when they brought you, you were hurt badly. I had to remove your armour-” Minsc held up a hand. He decided to look down for the first time since he had awoken. He was naked. He stared wide-eyed, while Angel laughed. Boo punched Angel, causing them to roll around again fighting.
“Uh, I am glad. My name is Minsc. My miniature giant space hamster's name is Boo- wait, how did you know Boo's name?” He stooped to pick up Boo, placing him on his shoulder. Boo squeaked. Minsc nodded, understanding. Minsc was barely resisting the urge to brush her mane, but he was without his brush. “Let Minsc get his clothing back on, and we shall talk.” Minsc turned the corner to find himself in a large cottage, filled with cages, animals, and pet food. He scratched his head, preferring to put his armour back onto himself instead of dwelling on the fact that the cottage fit him. He hummed to himself, Boo merely staring down the other animals in the rare case they wanted to attack Minsc. He slid his armour on quickly, years of practice allowing him fast dressing and undressing. He returned to the room once his armour was on, staring down at the small pegasus pony. “Might I ask what your name is?” The pegasus pony whined as she spoke. “I'm sorry, Minsc did not catch that.”
“I'm... Fluttershy.” Minsc clapped his hand together.
“So, the good host has name. Perfect.” He searched his equipment, not locating his brush. “Where is Minsc's brush?” He realized his bag and helmet were not amongst his items either. “Where is Minsc's bag, and helmet?!” He started looking wildly around. “Boo, where are they?!” Boo squeaked, the ranger calming down. “Ah, I left them in town? The gentle nature of these creatures would not have many thieves, right?” Boo shrugged. He did not know. Minsc packed up what equipment he had with him, and opened the door. Ducking down low, he crept through the door. “Minsc will not be hindered by doors!” Fluttershy flew beside him, trying to stop him.
“But, didn't you want to talk? There's so much I want to-” Minsc turned, a big smile on his face.
“Swords, not words!” With that, he charged down the hillside towards the pony town, intent on recovering his helmet and bag. Fluttershy shook her head, following him from a safe distance, the shining white armour not hard to follow. Why did this creature intrigue her so?
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author's Notes non-functional, at least for me:
Minsc, the ranger/berserker from Dungeons and Dragons and the Baldur's Gate series, enters the fray. AND YES! He did call Chrysalis wet laundry.
Within a deep, subterranean compound, a single ghost hunter found himself trapped within falling debris. Strapping the assault weapon he currently held to his back, he broke into a full sprint without hesitation. Giant stone statues of ancient warriors collapsed behind him, destroying former walls, breaking apart what was left of the secret project he had single-handedly toppled. Throughout, strange creatures exploded, dying in various ways that belied their malicious nature. A former doctor set down her SMG, staring at the balls of protoplasm left behind by the strange creatures. Soldiers stopped fighting when the creatures they had been fighting disappeared all together. Cheers echoed through the ventilation shafts as they found themselves free. Free from the issues of the project. Free from the tyrannical attitude their employer had adopted only a short while before.
The hunter, however, was not celebrating. While they were walking out of the complex in the elevators, the hunter was trying to prevent himself becoming a red smear on the ruins that were fast gaining on him. Beautiful hieroglyphs, strange artworks and various other items... all were as nothing before the tide of destruction that followed behind him. He jumped from a ledge that had appeared to one across the way. Clambering up quickly, he watched the collapse. Standing up, he continued to sprint, his eyes wide-eyed. There was not even a dog's chance in hell that he was going to stay to see his work finish. A large opening appeared in front of him. Floating outside, a helicopter was floating with two figures in it, a brown-skinned man wearing combat armour, and a former doctor, who was smiling. The man in combat armour was holding out his hand.
“Come on! Jump!” The hunter pressed a single button on his wrist, two strange panels appearing from his back. His speed was increased as the panels boosted him forwards. Jumping, he grabbed onto the landing gear underneath the helicopter. “That, that was too close.” All three turned to watch a mountain collapse, the ruins of the strange facility falling out. Bodies could be clearly seen tumbling down, leaving nothing to the imagination. “At least we made it out alive, eh?” He stared down underneath the helicopter. The hunter was nowhere to be seen. A blue flash of light, and something below disappeared. The man did not notice it, just wondering what happened to his friend.
If the hunter's friend had seen what happened to him, he would not have believed his eyes. The hunter, even though he had been hanging on for dear life with a death grip, a flash of energy from the roiling dust cloud below had zapped him, turning parts of him invisible. He tried to scream, but it was at his mouth before he could even open it. He lost his grip, falling rapidly into the dust cloud, disappearing in a blue flash.
“He's... gone. My friend's... gone.” The man sat down, his head resting on his hands. “Raimi's gone...”
In a rather dark area, a flash of blue light occurred, followed by a loud slam. Raimi stared up, trying to discern what was going on. The light that would have been lit on his shoulder was crushed to pieces. He stood up, looking around. Another flash of light, and the weapon he had been using before crashed into a nearby solid barrier. He looked around. There were no lights, nothing. It seemed overcast overhead. Raimi shook his head.
How did I even get in this mess? One minute, I'm hanging on for dear life, and the next- flash and gone. I don't even know... He walked slowly over to where the weapon had hit the 'barrier'. He felt around in the darkness, locating it, along with what felt like a thick stone barrier, considering the imprint his weapon had made in it.
“Hey! I heard a noise over here!” Beams of light flashed around, the first light source Raimi had seen since the flash of light.
Hide! Gotta hide somewhere... but where? He looked up at the barrier. The clouds had just begun to clear, giving him a visible sign of what he was looking at. He had not been feeling a barrier, but a stone statue to some kind of hero. He gripped his weapon tightly, yanking it out quickly, but tumbling backwards in the process. As he stood there staring, something glinted in the corner of his eye. Can't be... As he sat there staring, the statue in front of him blinked. Wait- no! The statue began to move, a redux of what he had to face before, albeit much smaller. He rolled sideways, barely dodging a… hoof?! His brown hair was skimmed, barely registering on his already excited system. At that point in time, he had two options:
Option One was to obliterate this thing like he had the other two before, but then explain to whoever came about why some pony statue came to life and tried to murder him.
Option Two was to run from it as fast as possible.
Raimi pulled the slide back slowly. As it clicked back into place, he held his weapon steady.
All right... come on, you stone bastard! Come and get me! The stone statue, unable to see Raimi, began to stomp in various directions, attempting to crush the partial human. He turned his head to look over his shoulder. Those beams of light were getting closer. He did not want to endanger the civilians, but he remembered what he had been forced to do within the Volks Corp installation. He glared at the statue. If he let it continue its rampage, it would harm innocents, something that he could not abide. He looked at the statue carefully. There were glowing blue areas. He frowned. Weapons fire would alert the others to his position- the statue nearly stepped on him there. He hoisted it up, aiming. Well, let's throw caution to the wind. I'd rather protect innocents than my own identity.
A short distance away, several unicorns were galloping forwards, their horns glowing bright with light. Rays of light shone forth, cutting through the darkness in front of them with ease. While one of them had heard what sounded like something impacting the ground. Nothing could have prepared their minds for what resounded throughout the area next.
Raimi held the trigger, releasing a torrent of lead into the glowing areas of the statue. Pieces would fly off, allowing a moment's time to destroy. With the practice he had garnered from fighting the two within Volks' personal compound, he found it much easier to deal with the single statue. The statue stared down at him, its blue eyes locating him finally.
Gotta keep it occupied! Running out of ammo... gotta reload- wait! Spirit Grenades! Raimi reached his hand underneath, priming a small tube underneath. His trigger hand moved down the handle slightly, grasping the grenade handle. He stared, backing away. If I get too close to these, I might end up removing myself from my body! He backpedaled as fast as he could, launching off one explosive after the other. Just... one... more... patch... The last remaining blue patch had been uncovered. As Raimi backpedaled, he flipped over backwards. Staring up as he hit the ground, he was able to witness several... ponies? He made a mental note to get himself a shrink. They were staring at their beloved statue as it attempted to kill them. One stared down at Raimi, fear in his eyes.
“You were fighting this, weren't you?! If you destroy this abomination, we'll help you!” Raimi could not see his mouth move in the darkness, but the voice was definitely male. Raimi stood back up, the unicorn's head coming up to his chest. He stared at the statue. Two unicorns were thrown around as it rampaged, another ran in fear. He set his jaw in an unseen expression of determination, anger rising in his throat. His weapon raised slowly as he ran forwards, blasting off entire belts of ammunition. The statue appeared... frightened? Raimi could not tell its expression, but he did not care. Innocents were becoming injured, and that had to stop. The statue, under the hail of bullets, turned to run, exposing the uncovered blue patch. Each bullet found its mark. With a quick flick of his wrist, two panels flipped up from Raimi's suit, his speed and reaction time doubled as he entered Boost Mode. Everything was tinted with a blue hue as he fired off as many rounds as possible. As the last bullet found its mark, the patch exploded, the statue crumbling. Raimi stood still, the Boost deactivating. His breath was ragged, sweat pouring off his face. He had never felt so angered before. Then again, the people of the Volks' Corp installation, there had been no innocents. He was brought back to reality by the unicorns behind him cheering. A light flashed on him as one decided to bring some light on the statue. Something red was floating above the statue. Raimi aimed. It was a Project Z spirit, trained to possess and infiltrate. He hated them. He aimed, letting fly a grenade. Impacting the ground in front of it., the unicorns shrank away in agony as a high-pitched scream of God only knows issued from the spirit. It disappeared in a flash of yellow light. A unicorn approached Raimi, different from the other one. It was female.
“You're... you're a hero... Come with us. We'll give you something to eat. You must be starving.” Raimi, eyebrow raised, decided to follow them.
Raimi just stared at the food in front of him. When they had brought him to a place to eat, he had not expected they would take him into their homes. The male was apparently White Hunter, white coat with grey mane and tail. He seemed older than the others. His blue eyes belied his true age. The female was White Heart. She was red, with a black mane and tail. Her red eyes were trained on Raimi the entire time.
“Is it not to your liking?” Raimi just stared with a look of 'You have got to be kidding me.' On his plate, they had pilled daisies, assorted other flowers, and hay. Hay. Consumables for a horse, not a human. He pointed at a pad of paper and a pencil in the corner. Nodding, White Heart floated it over to him, letting him write out what he wanted. Several minutes later, he was done. With a single thought, the pad was brought to her. She almost dropped it as she read it. Hunter appeared as if he was going to be ill.
“But-” Raimi crossed his arms.
“'What I want is to see who is in charge. Also, none of what you gave me is digestible for my kind.'” Heart stared down, thinking. With a quick flick of her mane, she looked back at Raimi with a pained look in her eyes. “All right. Well, if you mean what I think you mean, then we have to take you to see Princess Celestia. She'll know what to do.” Raimi shrugged, pointing at a bowl full of lettuce. When that was levitated over through the use of their power, Raimi dumped his entire plate onto another unicorn's, filling his with lettuce.
Better a salad than flowers. Too bad there are no dandelions. At least those are edible. He ate in silence, the entire event with the statue and the spirit of Project Z still fresh in his mind.
The sun was out, revealing the sort of place Raimi found himself in. It was like he stood in Manhattan, except it was populated by ponies of various hues and colours. His weapon was strapped to his back tightly, a long cloak stretched around his shoulder.
“Well, there's the directions. I hope the cloak works out. We used an old saddle blanket to make it.” Raimi sniffed it. There it was, the scent of pony. He shook his head. This was already more strange than when he had fought against Wraith, the spirit that had originally taken his body after spirit separation. He nodded to the two unicorns that had shown him great hospitality. “Don't get lost in Manehattan! It's a great big city!” He laughed at that. Manehattan. They had their own version of Manhattan. He held a piece of paper in his hand. Directions to the nearest train station. If this had been closer in appearance to the Manhattan he knew, there would have been a subway station. He shrugged. There was no use dwelling on the past. He started walking, the cloak flowing around him. He stared around, looking at each structure. Although spartan in decoration, each structure served a clear purpose, although what that purpose was eluded him.
After hours of searching, turning the wrong way down a street due to the directions he had been given, he eventually tossed the garbage piece of paper into a nearby waste receptacle. He tore off the cloak he had been wearing, tossing that away too. Feeling around in his suit, he removed a small Personal Data Assistant, reading the last information he had on it.
Volks Corp. A sinister company with ulterior motives, most in world domination. Alexander Volks, the maniacal, demon-possessed leader of said corporation. I killed him, and set him free.
Raimi stared down at that last entry. No one would know of what he did on Earth, nor, as he assumed, would they ever find out. He looked up to see a sign that, in clear English, declared “Train Station.” He shook his head. Reaching into another pocket, he removed the ticket that White Heart had given him. It was for a one-way trip to a location known as “Canterlot”. He looked ahead, making his way to the station. He was going to meet this “Princess Celestia”, and if he had enough paper, he would give her his questions, and a single demand.
Tell me why I am here. He stared down at the ground as he entered the train station. The train itself was a smaller version of the ones he would have been used to, but what was a bit of a shocker for him was the fact that the train was run by two teams of ponies dragging it along. He shook his head. This day was shaping up to be one of the strangest days of his entire life.
A single man stood still upon a small mound of dirt, staring out at the ruined landscape before him. His mask was a network of metal and tubing, connected to an exhaust fan on his back. Stark black armour covered his entire frame. He raised his hand to his ear, holding a small radio.
“Yes. Is that so? Thanks for the info, Doctor. I'll take that into consideration.” He lowered his hand, looking at his wrist. The device on his arm glowed, the screen green with power. He tapped the screen lightly with his gloved finger – various cracks around the edge denoting that he had accidentally pushed too hard on several occasions. He stared down at the ground. He liked his missions for what many called the most brilliant minds in the wasteland he called home. He called them absolute nutcases. Sighing, he started forwards. His Heads Up Display showed his compass marker for the new objective he had been given. It was another useless item that the scientists he had been helping had requested that he find. Reaching into a carrying case he kept attached to his side, he removed a small syringe filled with a red liquid. Removing his power armoured glove, he slid the thin needle into his rough, weathered hand, the liquid filling his veins. Breathing slowly, he stared forward at the desert. “Stimpacks. A wanderer's best friend in this godforsaken wasteland.” Stepping down from where he stood, he collected the empty syringe and his glove, returning both to where they had been before. Starting off towards his objective marker, he began to hum to the tune of “I Don't Want To Set The World On Fire.”
The man in powered armour stopped to catch his breath, his objective marker close in front of him. Staring ahead, his eyes fell upon a large dumpster.
“You've got to be kidding me.” With a sigh, he jogged towards the dumpster, reaching his hand inside. With a heavy tug, he brought out what could have been considered as impossible, at least for an item inside of a dumpster. He had brought out a partially constructed plasma rifle. He lifted the radio to his ear, staring around.
“Ah, teddy bear? Is that you?” The sultry female voice on the other end was surprised that the man was calling.
“Yeah, Doc. I've got the... thing you guys wanted. Gonna use the device now.”
“The 'device'?” The man in powered armour shook his head in amazement.
“The Transportalponder, naturally. Should be fully functioning after the day I let it recharge, right?” The voice on the other end sighed. A voice behind her spoke as well.
“It is ready for you to transport, lobotomite. Hurry it up! We don't have all day!” With a slight nod, the man slid his radio away. A quick press on his wrist device, and a small pistol-like object was brought out. The tubes in the middle of the device glowed as he pressed the trigger, the Transportalponder warming up. He smiled until it began to flash rapidly. He looked up at the sky.
“This isn't right...” Something glowed across his arms, his arms becoming transparent.
“Lobotomite! Your coordinates are changing! What's happening?! Respond!” With a bright flash of light, the man was gone, part of what appeared to be a plasma rifle still glowing from light that had sheared it in half.
On another world, a storm had gathered, a storm beyond all reasoning of the land that it was appearing over. Lightning flashed, winds howled, and rain hammered structures of a small town within what appeared to be a vast desert, with various areas like oases. Various creatures ran around, screaming. Lightning struck all over, setting fires. Although none of them would notice, a particularly large blast of lightning struck a far ways into the desert, smoke rising from where it had struck.
A tall, bipedal figure landed in the midst of the large scorch mark he now inhabited. He was kneeling, his balled-up fist slammed into the ground. With a quick movement, he stood up, staring around. Something was incredibly off about where he stood, but he could not place it. He turned, barely making out what appeared to be a small town in the distance, the storm above rapidly dissipating. He shook his head, jogging towards the town, his uncertainty pushed to the back of his mind.
“Yeah. Nopony knows what happened, but the storm just came in, and hit like nothing that anypony here has ever seen before-” The small blue pony with a black mane stared up at the strange figure that had entered through the doorway. Every creature in the small tavern had fallen silent, dust blowing through the door. Without a word, the strange creature sat down, staring at the barkeeper. He turned, looking around.
“Must be a Tuesday.” He removed his helmet, revealing a shaved head, grey hair, and piercing blue eyes. He brought out a small bag, staring down again. He slowly untied the top, bottlecaps pouring out. “Give me the strongest drink you got-” He was interrupted by something large on his shoulder. Something was grabbing him.
“We don't like deadbeats 'round these parts. Understand?” The bald man chuckled. Without a single warning, he turned around, his fist slamming into the creatures stomach. With a kick, the creature flew out the door. He fastened his helmet back onto his head, a satisfying hiss issuing forth when it locked. He jogged out, readying himself in a fighting stance, his knees low to the ground.
“Don't you fucking touch me.” The anger was tangible in the man's voice. His knuckles cracked as he squeezed his fists tightly. “If someone touches me, that means they want to fight. So, I'm going to fuck you up. No hard feelings.” The man's fist lashed out, slamming into the creature's face. Blood sprayed as he threw punch after punch. Once the creature had fallen down, to only twitch on the ground, did he look at what he had been fighting. He had never seen anything quite like... the mutilated face of the creature he had just bashed the face in of. It reminded him of stories of a creature called a minotaur. Man of a body, bull head, and below the waist was a goat... or something along those lines. He grabbed the minotaur's neck, hauling him to stand up.
“I-Iron Will can take you! Iron Will is s-scared of nothing!” The man shrugged.
“I said I'd fuck you up, and that's exactly what I fucking did.” He poked the minotaur in the chest for emphasis. “You think you're the shit, but you're nothing. Go give your shitty advice to someone who gives a fuck.” The man turned to a crowd of ponies, all with angry glares. “Oh, don't you fucking start!” With a quick glance, he scrolled through his wrist device, selecting something that read “Compliance Regulator.” A flash of green, and it was in his hand, pointed towards the angry crowd.
“You beat up somepony in the local tavern, and expect us to accept your... caps to pay for a drink? What do you think we are, patsies?!” The man was staring at the sky, sniffing a flower.
“Not really. Naturally, this is just a normal Tuesday for me. I've seen some crazy shit, and this is pretty much just more of the same. Probably some hallucination from that stim from earlier.” He looked back at Iron Will, who now had goats attending to him. He had gotten himself cleaned up quickly, the wounds barely visible on the surface. “Just be glad I was holding back, or you'd be dead.” The man held out his hand to the minotaur, frowning. “I'm Courier Six, although everyone just calls me 'The Courier'. You can call me Six.” Iron Will took the hand, frowning as well.
“Well, Iron Will-” Six stared at Iron Will, irritation playing across his face like a piano.
“Stop referring to yourself in the third person. Very irritating.” Six looked past Iron Will at the tavern. The entire front side of the tavern was gone, debris scattered all around the dirt road. “Okay. There's definite reason for them being pissed off at me. Fuck.” He let go of Iron's hand, raising his hand to the back of his helmet, rubbing it slightly.
“You did kick me through the wall, if that means anything.” Six frowned, staring at it.
“That's easy to fix, especially even with a basic understanding of construction and engineering.” He looked down at his hand, his radio still crackling. “That should have died by now.” He held it up to his ear, a familiar voice bringing a warmth to his heart.
“Doctor Mobius!”
“Shut up, Mobius.” He put the radio away, looking back over at the ponies. “All right. I'll help with the repairs. That had better net me a drink, though.” He looked back at the town in front of him. “Fucking Tuesdays.”
Each repair brought the small tavern more popularity. The bar was replaced, a shiny, heavy mahogany top gracing it. The piano inside, something that had not worked for years, sang its songs once more when Six finished with it. The front end was repaired piece by piece, becoming something beyond what it had been before. Wooden pillars supported a brand new porch, tables adorning the tough oak that had been used for the construction.
A few weeks later, the entirety of the repairs was complete. Six stood in front of his handiwork, smiling. He had long since removed his powered armour, instead switching to a work jumpsuit.
“Perfect.” He wiped the sweat from his brow, looking back at his work. “Better than I expected. Should withstand... mostly anything I throw at it now.” He stripped down out of the jumpsuit, laying it carefully on the ground. Pointing the device on his wrist at it, the jumpsuit disappeared, appearing as a line of text on the screen of the device. He pressed several more times, a flash of light appearing all over him. His familiar powered armour began to materialize. He looked down, balling up his fist. He looked around. “So, quick question. Do I get that drink now?”
Several bottles of their hardest drink later, Six wandered out of the tavern, smiling with drunken pride. He stumbled towards a group of ponies who were also just as tipsy.
“You know what? For something out of my own messed up head... you're... all right.” He staggered, falling over. He picked himself up, looking around. The alcohol ran its course faster than he had anticipated. Raising his hand to his head, he waited for the inevitable hangover which did not come. He stared at his hands with confusion. “This is new.” He looked around. He had seen symbols of a sun, in places that some in the Mojave would have reserved for flags of affiliation, especially the New California Republic. He sighed. Jogging over to what he assumed was the town leader, he cleared his throat, startling him into realizing that Six was standing behind him.
“Whoa nelly! Y'all startled me there, pardner. Y'all looking for something?” Six held up a small flag with a sun centered on it.
“Who is your leader? NCR, Caesar's Legion, Enclave?” The pony stared up at him, his green eyes blinking with no knowledge.
“What the hay are those? Some kind of strange idea of yours?” Six stared down with a little irritation. Something was really starting to feel off for him. Although he had spent weeks repairing their little tavern, he had still assumed that he was in the Mojave. His mind was trying to process that somebody had no knowledge of any of those groups.
“Okay. Here's a better question. Where the fuck am I?!” He gripped the pony's... well, what he assumed were shoulders. He did not understand physiology all that well, only well enough to kill a target easily, or to heal himself. He shook the pony hard for emphasis.
“W-Whoa! P-Pardner! Y'all are in Equestria!” Six backed up, the information finally being processed by his brain.
“This... this isn't the Mojave?! What the fuck happened to me?! What in the actual fuck happened!” He gripped his radio tightly, bringing it up to his ear. “Mobius, Klein! Where the fuck am I?! Am I even on Earth anymore?!” A slight crackle was followed by the unmodified voice of Doctor Zero.
“I checked the coordinates, lobotomite. No, you are not on Earth. To be perfectly honest, we don't know where you are. You're beyond anything we've recorded before.” Six dropped the radio. He was no longer on Earth. That realization hit hard. Underneath his helmet, a smile crept over his face. He was beyond any technology that the Brotherhood of Steel could use to track him, and only the scientists at Big Mountain had any chance of contacting him. He picked up his radio, dusting it off.
“Could you check the status of the ARCHIMEDES II satellite weapon? I need my last resort weapon.” A whirring sound issued forth from the radio, followed by Zero's voice.
“ARCHIMEDES II is tracking your position. You're apparently around another star... the planet you're on... it's orbiting... Proxima Centauri?!” The apparent surprise was evident in Zero's voice.
“I can hazard a guess that what you said is really bad.” Excitement poured through the radio as Zero ignored what Six had said.
“You've transported to another planet! This is an incredible feat of science! Klein and the others will be so happy!” A whirring sound issued forth as the line was shut down from the other end. Six shook his head.
“Fucking eggheads.” He turned to the pony. He looked him over. He was orange, with a short blond mane and tail. His cowboy hat was interesting. He pointed out in the distance. “Tell me where your national leaders are. I'd like to meet with them.” A familiar voice made him shake his head.
“Iron Will will take you to Canterlot. Courier! You will meet with the princesses, and then Iron Will will-” Iron was met with a fist in his stomach.
“Yeah. Take me there. But I'll beat the fuck out of you again if you even try to peddle your shitty advice there. Sometimes you've got to cut loose, and try something new.” Iron Will quietly led Six to his personal train, where a team of twelve goats stood, ready for Iron Will and Six.
“All right. Also, would you be willing to teach Iron Will your methods of fighting?” Six stared at him, smiling.
“All right. While we're heading there. Just remember, if you're going to convince someone you're serious about hurting them, you do not smile, or even let them know what you're going to do. Example.” He turned to another minotaur that walked by. “I'm going to kick the living shit out of you!” The minotaur backed up, running away scared. “Reputation, my friend. Reputation is everything. Show you're scary, and people will always be intimidated.” They entered the train together, Six staring at the inside. There was a full training room, complete with punching bags. Six began to remove his armour when Iron Will held up a hand.
“Why do you remove your armour?”
“This device on my arm, this Pip-Boy, stores items, armour, weapons, you name it, in a small pocket dimension. Some things... can get sucked in if you're not careful. I learned that one the hard way.” Removing his shoulder and arm plating, he revealed robotic limbs instead of flesh and bone. “I lost my arms. Painful, but some scientists were happy to replace them with robotic equivalents. That's how I was able to hurt you so badly, besides the fact I was wearing powered armour.” He sat down, pressing his Pip-Boy. The armour disappeared in a flash, reappearing as representative icons on the Pip-Boy's screen.
“You mean, you could carry anything you wanted to in there, and no one would know?” Iron Will's curiosity had been piqued.
“Takes too long to explain, but in short, yeah. Let's get going. I want to meet... what kind of leaders does Equestria have?”
“Two princesses.” Six smiled.
“Then let's meet these princesses.” I always wanted to meet a princess. I wonder what they're like. As long as they're not fucking ponies, I'll be fine. “And don't talk to me for a while. This whole ordeal has been like a long fucking Tuesday for me.” The train rumbled as it left the station, leaving two individuals silent within. Far in the distance, two more were arriving at his destination, a fact he would know soon. He laid back, staring up at the ceiling. It was going to be a long train ride.
In a grand battlefield, scores of soldiers clashed. Heavily clothed peasants collided with the combined military might of the greatest of ancient soldiers, their leader a fearless man beyond compare within their ranks. Light blinked off of his bronze cuirass, his sword still attached to his side. His helmet shifted on his head as he stared forwards. The battle slowed to a standstill as he strode before his own soldiers, staring them down.
“The world will know that free men stood against a tyrant, that few stood against many, and before this battle is over, that even a god-king can bleed!” He raised his shield and spear, slamming the two together in a battle call. “Spartans! Ready your breakfast and eat hearty! For tonight!” He pointed at the opposing army, a scowl of anger crossing his countenance. “We dine in hell!” Three hundred heavily armed and angry Spartans stood behind their leader as he lead the charge down the hill, the Persians following suit as the two forces collided once more, blood flying all around. The Spartan leader himself slew many men as he swung and sliced, chopped and lopped, leaping from one enemy to another with a fury unlike any that had come before. His anger flowed in his movements as his combat seemed like a dance, enemies falling before his precise movements. One Spartan stared up at the dark-skinned leader of the enemy they face.
“Immortals... we put their name to the test.” Tightening the chin strap on his helmet, he shouted an unintelligible battle cry, flying forwards as he shouted. His leader grinned as they fought side by side. Almost as soon as their army had made their way into the thick of it, right in the center of the valley, arrows darkened the sky. Archers let loose the barbed doom that each carried, arrows crashing down over the Spartans. Many fell to the arrows, the barbs finding the weak parts of their armour and piercing through with a lethality some Spartans had never witnessed. Few remained standing from the onslaught. For the longest time, the Spartans had held back the tide of the enemy, but they found their end that day. Their leader looked at the army in front of him, a look of longing on his face.
“My Queen!” An arrow pierced his cuirass. “My wife.” Three more pierced, bringing him to the ground. “My love...” And with a single breath, he was resigned to his fate. The opposing leader laughed, his mirth echoing through the valley. That was, until a bright flash of light appeared from nowhere. The dying, broken body of the leader of the three hundred Spartans disappeared in a brilliant, pulsing blue light.
An area far from where a storm would take place, a bright blue flash occurred. While one would appear in the midst of no such inhabited area, the other was flat on his face, in the midst of what one would assume was a Lakota hunter camp. A shield flew past, while a sword and a pair of javelins stuck into the ground. A spear embedded itself in a nearby rock. The man rolled over, sitting up. He immediately felt his chest. No arrows, not even a single mark. He stared around as many creatures of a strange shape gathered around him. His vision was blurry from whatever that flash had been. He looked around again, standing up only to encounter a strange feeling from his gut. Muscles were contracting, along with a gurgling. Without even a pause, everything within his stomach spewed forth, covering a small area with chunks of meat and half-digested foodstuffs. He fell over, his vision turning black as he passed out.
Hours later, the man awoke in a bed of hay. He glanced around. Against the side of the tent-like object he found himself in, he noticed his sword, javelins, and armour. His shield was laying next to him. He sat up, his vision finally clear. A bowl of water sat next to him. His black hair and beard were still short, but scars sat across his face. Dried blood marked the area where the Immortal he had fought had cut his face.
“By the gods themselves, I survived Xerxes. But where have I found myself?” With practiced precision, he swiftly returned his armour to its place upon his person, his sword to his side, and his javelins in his shield. His helmet was not among the armour that he still retained. “My queen, my wife, my love. Without me, she must be worrisome about my well-being.” He stepped out into the bright light, strange quadriped creatures raced around, tearing down the strange tents. He stopped when he felt a tug at his leg.
“Mister, where are you going? The Chief wants to speak with you!” The man stared down at the quadriped that tugged on his leg. It was a darker orange, with feathers in a concentric circle on its head.
“Your chieftain wishes to parley? With no hostility? What manner of world have I entered?” He followed the little creature to a larger one, who wore a more elaborate feather headdress. He was dark brown in colour, with the look of years upon his countenance.
“Ah, little Strongheart. You brought our guest to me before he decided to leave. I am called Thunderhooves, of the Buffalo Tribes. May I ask your name?” The man pulled his sword, keeping it at the ready.
“I am Leonidas, King of Sparta, and leader of three hundred Spartan warriors!” His mind returned to the battle. “We were beset by an enemy so insidious in nature that he dared threaten my land, my people, and most horrible of all, my wife and queen. Their messenger I had driven into a well with my heel. My own personal guard entered that battle with Arcadians at our side. Three hundred Spartan warriors, their only profession war, seven hundred other countrymen from the area, three thousand from other areas, and three thousand, four hundred from the rest. The battle of Thermopylae pass was a bloody one. I, with my Spartans, and those that had chosen to remain, fought one, even with the enemy attacking from both front and back. Myself and three other Spartans... we were the last to fall that day.” A single tear escaped his eye as he thought of his queen, of his family, of Sparta. Leonidas composed himself, a steel eye focused on the buffalo in front of him. They were unsuited for any war that even the gods of Olympus could dream for him. He lowered his gaze, his hands coming into view. Scars adorned them, Scars from battles long past, battles that he, as the king of great Sparta, had fought in personally.
“You are a brave creature, Leonidas of the Spartans. We would be honoured if you would join us for our meal. It is... a custom of ours to allow guests to eat alongside, as if they were one of our own.” Leonidas looked at the buffalo with a confused look crossing his countenance. This... beast, it would offer food that it might require for its own survival to him, without him offering something in return? Leonidas shook his head from side to side, indicating his decision.
“I cannot accept this. Without proper recompense, it would not be honourable for myself to partake of your meal without offering something in return.” Thunderhooves looked down at the ground. He did not know of anything the proud warrior king could offer them. Then it struck him like a train. He had a single idea.
“Train a small amount of my fellow buffalo. They will be your own guard, King Leonidas. That will be the greatest recompense you can offer me at this time.” Leonidas stared down at his sword, glancing at his large round shield. Spying a rock not far from where he stood, he realized where his spear had landed. Striding over, with a single motion, he tore the spear clear from the stone, breaking it apart with the action. Thunderhooves' eyes became as saucers, his surprise evident.
“Then I shall teach your buffalo the ways of a Spartan. There can be no greater honour than to become a Spartan warrior!” He shouted into the sky a single cheer, for his homeland, for his people. “For Sparta! For all free Greeks! May the gods smile on us today!” He looked down, and frowned. He was not sure how he would teach any older buffalo, especially if they could not effectively hold a spear or shield. Nevertheless, he would try.
The measly two that stood before him appeared no more than young adults, barely in their prime. Leonidas knelt down, staring them down.
“I am King Leonidas. From this point forward, you are not buffalo. You are not of your tribe.” Leonidas stood up, raising his shield. “You are honorary Spartans, bound to heed the call of battle wherever it happens!” He raised his spear, slamming it into the ground with ferocity. The buffalo stepped back, wide-eyed. “You will not fear the spear, nor will you fear death. You will not fear. If you are hurt, injury is only a setback.” A young buffalo stepped out from behind them.
“I want to fight as well!” Leonidas knelt down. He smiled at the young one.
“Ah, Little Strongheart. You have the spirit of a Spartan woman. But you lack the skill and tenacity. However, I would rather you stay with your chief than become scarred by the deeds of war.” With a sniffle, and a little sob, Little Strongheart bolted away. Leonidas shook his head. “I don't understand it at all.”
The training would go on for weeks. With access to materials, Leonidas himself forged shields and armour for the buffalo. Two shields for either side, with a front chestplate, and a Spartan-style helmet. The sword... that was more complicated. As they had no hands, they could not even grasp the sword. The spear was simpler. A small bow-like device was constructed on their backs by the other buffalo, holding each a spear of their highest quality. The two buffalo that stood before him charged each other every day, fighting with ferocity, and without fear. Whenever one would attempt to spar with him, Leonidas would charge into them, knocking them over.
“You are still not ready for the rage of the true war that can be had by Spartans!” Leonidas stood off to one side, Chief Thunderhooves by his side.
“They are most... interesting, now. You have instilled in them a spirit which not even I could.” He nodded to Leonidas before moving away from their part of the camp. Leonidas nodded. Turning to the buffalo he was training, he smiled.
“Always use everything at your disposal to defeat your enemy!” Training dummies were destroyed, countless hours spent drilling them in the art of war, the way that Spartans saw it. They fought, bled, and bonded. Their minds were sharpened to warfare, and dulled to fear and pain.
Leonidas stood back from his new warriors. They stood proud and strong. Although they may be buffalo, to him, they were new Spartans. Their faces were steeled and angry. Leonidas strode before them, staring them down.
“What is our mission!”
“War! War! War!” Leonidas pulled his sword.
“What is our profession!”
“War! War! War!” Leonidas stood before Chief Thunderhooves, staring him down.
“This is what we trained for in Sparta. Not life, not love, but war. War is a Spartan's profession, and by the gods, we will die honourably in battle!” He raised his spear, to which the two buffalo behind him stomped their hooves. Thunderhooves nodded to Leonidas.
“There is a train... it will be coming to a nearby town called Appleloosa. I advise you to hurry. There have been talks of... unrest amongst several areas. You would do best to have council with the pony leaders, the Princesses.” Leonidas nodded.
“Then I shall, with my new honour guard, find them, and know where I am, and why I am here.” He watched the sand blow around the camp. He stepped to the edge. It was wide, and empty. He lifted his new bronze helmet. Adjusting it to his head, he stared out across the rock, dust and sand. “To me, Spartans!” The two buffalo stood by his sides. “Today, we march!”
In another part of the land, two trains arrived at their destination. Two men stood across the platform from each other. John Raimi, of CR-2, and the Courier, of the Mojave. With a silent step, they approached each other. The Courier stuck out his hand, smiling.
“I'm the Courier, or Courier Six. Some people hear have taken to calling me Six.” Raimi nodded, shaking the Courier's hand. Holding out a piece of paper that he had hastily scribbled on, he let the Courier know who he was.
I hope I don't have to deal with shock and awe over this again. He stood there, waiting.
“'My name is John Raimi, of the government branch CR-2. I specialize in biological and chemical threat disposal.' So, you're a scientist... and a soldier? Then we've got something in common. I'm guessing you're here to see the princesses as well?” A muffled shout behind them startled them both. A tall, bald man with a strange purple tattoo over one eye, wearing bright, shining armour, was being levitated by two unicorn ponies. He was gagged, although, if looks could kill, the entire planet would have blown to pieces.
“Hold him, girls! We have to get him... to... the... oh my.” One of them, a lavender unicorn pony, stared at Raimi. The Courier looked at him, shrugging.
“I've got no idea. This is pretty much a Tuesday on average for me.” He stepped forward, kneeling down to bring him to eye level with the lavender unicorn. “Would you mind putting him down? That would be good.” The screaming man was let down, almost attacking before the Courier grabbed his arms. “Whoa! Calm down, pal!” He dodged a wild swing. “Okay, if you fucking hit me-” He was slammed hard in the stomach, getting launched by the panicking man. The gag was torn off with powerful hands as he stared the two men down.
“You... you are not ponies. Ponies are not friendly to Minsc and Boo!” A hamster hopped onto Minsc's shoulder, glaring angrily. “Sorry, I have not introduced myself. I am Minsc, a ranger and berserker of the highest degree in the Ranger lodges of Rashemen!” He smiled and shrugged. “They do not accept Minsc... ever since the incident.”
“What... incident?” Minsc scratched his head, confused.
“I don't remember... all I remember from then is a h-h-head wound.” Boo squeaked, though it went unnoticed by Minsc. The Courier smiled.
“We're here to see the leaders of this land, the Princesses.” The lavender unicorn stopped, staring.
“Y-You're here to s-see the Princesses?! How d-do we know that you won't hurt them?!” Raimi stepped forward, looking down. He touched his hand to her head, his spirit connecting to her mind. Images flashed through her head. Tears welled up in her eyes as she witnessed the cruelty of Volks Corp as seen by Raimi himself.
“You don't understand. I was taken by a bright flash of light. I don't know how the Courier here got here, or Minsc, but all I know is that we are here for some reason, and I intend to find out.” He spoke without moving his lips, the very act scaring the unicorn. “Twilight Sparkle.” She recoiled as she heard her name spoken in her mind. Raimi stepped back, crossing his arms.
“L-Let's take them to the Princesses. I think there's something that needs to be explained.” Twilight moved away, an orange-coloured pony following.
“Hey, Twi, what did that there... thing do t'ya?” Twilight turned around.
“He showed me... what he had gone through. I'm not sure how, but they need to see the Princesses... and there's something I haven't told you all yet. You'll need to talk to all three of us before you understand.” Twilight raced off, followed by six ponies, and three humans. The humans did not understand what exactly was going on, but in the situation they were in, they did not care. They were about to get answers, and they would not stop for anything. The Courier grumbled.
“They had better not be fucking pony princesses. I'm starting to get a little sick of all this colour.”
Author's Notes are NOT currently working at this time:
Okay, so... I mixed the history of the battle of Thermopylae, the main inspiration behind the 2006 movie, "300", and the movie... along with some headcanon.
Leonidas always stuck out to me as a leader of men. While generals can lead, those who truly understand the art of war, and actively participate in it with their fighting force, can be the leader of men like King Leonidas of Sparta. He is, and will always be, one of my favourite ancient historical figures.
So, comments and criticism. And if anyone wants to, point out to me in a PM what I could have done to use the history better, as I'm always looking to improve!
A fair distance away, surrounded by clouds as they flew, various forms glided through the air, drawn by a large pink and purple humanoid-like being, who flew by the sheer power of its mind.
How can I find a purpose, when I do not know what to even look for? The being in the forefront questioned itself as it flew, its blue eyes always darting around, the mind behind them always pondering, always calculating. It spied a distant island, one seemingly untouched by the humans it had once served, the humans it had once attempted to destroy. The forms behind him were lowered onto the island. Staring down, he watched blue forms, red forms, flaming forms, and even an electric rodent run around, confused at their new home. The being vanished, its mind drawn elsewhere as it flew.
A forest. In its mind, a forest drew it closer. A deep forest of untouched wilderness, ruins, and promise of solitude, where it would never be bothered. With a flash, it appeared within the ruins, crossing its legs, and folding its arms.
“This will be adequate. What that human meant... it requires further thought. I am no experiment, but what is my true purpose?” It closed its eyes, reaching out to the natural world around it. It did not sense an overwhelming presence of humans roaming around the world, but those it detected, it did not concern itself with. A sound from beyond the dilapidated walls of where it was floating, something was crying, weeping. It floated to where the being full of sorrow lay, staring up at a broken statue.
“Why can you not see what I see? I love you!” He sobbed. The floating being lowered itself to the ground, looking down. A small equine lay in front of a statue of a very regal equine, one with wings and a horn.
“Why do you weep, young one?” The small equine turned, its eyes wide as it stared. Its eyes darted back and forth, sweat wetting its spotted coat.
“N-None of your business! W-Who are you to ask, anyways?” The being stepped forward, holding out one of its three-fingered hands.
“I do not know who I am, only that I have no purpose. I am Mewtwo.” The equine stopped crying, staring up.
“M-Mewtwo? I've never heard of you before.” Mewtwo sat beside the small equine.
“What is your name?” The young equine pawed the ground, his nervous behaviour obvious.
“I-I'm Pipsqueak. AndbeforeyouaskyesIaminlovewithPrincessLuna!” He panted, his words having tripped over one another as he delivered them.
“... love? What is love?” From somewhere, strange music played for a few seconds. Mewtwo turned around to find three ponies bobbing their heads. “No. Just... no.” With a single wave of its hand, Mewtwo sent the strange three flying. “Well, now that there is peace and quiet-” Pipsqueak had backed away, fear in his eyes.
“H-How did you do that without magic?” Mewtwo glanced down at its hands, confused.
“... magic? I only used my psychic abilities-” Pipsqueak screamed.
“Monster! Monster!” He galloped away as fast as his little legs would take him. Mewtwo disappeared from behind, only to return in front of Pipsqueak. “Get away from me!” Mewtwo held up his hand.
“I am no monster... well, technically, I could be considered as such. I am a being beyond most understanding.” Mewtwo stood up, floating slightly above the ground. His brow was furrowed in an attempt to read the features of the pony in front of him. He could see fear, but not something that he was not used to. The pony in front of him gasped before falling over. “Are you... still alive?” Mewtwo reached his hand down, only to feel something gazing into his back, as if to pierce his very soul. He spun around in midair, staring down the new creature that opposed it.
“What hast thou done to our subject?!” Mewtwo did a once-over of the new pony. It was blue, deep blue, with a glowing, flowing mane that seemed to shimmer like starlight. On her flank, a white crescent moon seemed to glow with a strange inner light.
“I did nothing, I can assure you. But-” He was interrupted by a blast of pure energy slamming into his chest. He recovered, still floating. “You really believe I harmed him?” A ball of energy began to gather in his hand. He waved it around menacingly. “I do not wish to harm you, but if you leave me no choice, I won't hold back.” Mewtwo began to realize something new. He was wearing the same armour that Giovanni had built onto him to help him focus his power. He channeled all of his raw psychic power into the ball that now floated above his hand.
“Art thou telling us the truth?” The pony stared down at Pipsqueak, who had just begun to revive. Mewtwo's eye flashed inside the helmet he wore, the ball of energy stabilizing at its current size.
“As much as I want to at this current moment. Blast me again, and there will be consequences.” He leaned forward, his feet now touching the ground, his tail moving slightly as he shifted into a more combative stance. The pony in front of him bent down, a horn in the centre of her forehead glowing with energy.
“Art thou challenging us?” A blast escaped from her horn, narrowly missing Mewtwo. He glared from behind the mask of the helmet.
“I did warn you.” The ball of energy flew towards the pony as Mewtwo swung his arm. It resonated with dark energy, slamming into the pony with an immense amount of force. Pipsqueak merely stared as Mewtwo sunk to his knees. “I... used too much energy in that attack...” He fell forwards, his vision fading to black. Before he passed out, the last word he heard were spoken not toward him, but toward another entity altogether.
Light. It streamed in from a nearby window. Mewtwo struggled awake, his eyes taking in his surroundings. He did not understand. There were iron bars across the window, and iron reinforced walls blocking his path into the corridor. It struck him then and there.
“They seek to imprison me. We shall see-” The door to the cell opened, revealing a large white pony with a horn and wings. It walked in, nodding to various armoured ponies in the hall. It began to speak, the gender of the voice a female. Her voice, when she started to speak, felt like a calm wind. It eased Mewtwo's worry.
“I'm very sorry. I didn't think that you would be so... odd. Then again, prophecies usually are cryptic beyond reason.” Mewtwo stood up, floating slightly. His eyes flashed blue behind the mask that was still attached.
“Apology accepted. I'm assuming you are here because of...” Something piqued his curiosity. A head peeked out from behind the pony. A human head.
“So, this is him? Well, I thought the fucker'd be taller.” A rather strange, bald man sauntered into the holding cell, metal plates adorning his person. “And I thought he'd be fucking human. Well, at least, more human than he appears.” The man stuck out his hand, staring at Mewtwo. “The Courier, Courier Six, although some still call me Jason Fawkes.” The Courier shrugged. He had not had to use his real name in a long time. It felt... relieving, to say the least. This strange creature before him reminded him somewhat of a deathclaw, although deathclaws were mostly hostile. Another, taller bald man entered.
“Your name... is Jason? Curious. I want to know what this is.” Minsc, without any single allusion to his action, poked Mewtwo in an unprotected area. Mewtwo recoiled at the unfamiliar touch, holding his hand up.
“Stay back. I do not wish to harm you.” His eyes flashed. He lowered his hand. He felt a familiar presence. The pony that had attacked him entered beside the slightly taller mare.
“Luna, I believe you have something to say? And don't shout. We want this place to stay in one piece.” Luna, the darker winged, horned pony, stared at Mewtwo.
“We apologize for jumping to conclusions. We saw one of our subjects, and thought-” Jason held up his hand.
“You seem to jump to conclusions far too fucking quickly. I really don't give a shit, but seriously, your people think the worst of us. Well, with Minsc here-” he jammed his thumb in a backwards direction towards the slightly confused ranger. “-I would say it is not entirely undeserved.” Mewtwo floated towards Jason, holding his hand out.
“You appear to be a respectable human-” Another presence he felt, floating past them into the corridor. A man in an orange shirt, a light attached to his shoulder, and a heavy weapon in his hands, ran his hand through his short, brown hair. Although he did not speak, Mewtwo could still hear his words as clear as day.
“I am John Raimi. Although you probably can't-”
“I can hear you, Raimi. I do not understand how, as you seem... disconnected from yourself.” Mewtwo held his hand to Raimi's head. He could feel the inner push and pull between Raimi's mind and body, as if the two were not entirely one and the same. He removed his hand, looking at Raimi. “I am the psychic Pokemon, Mewtwo. The strongest psychic pokemon in my world, and the only one here.” He stood back, crossing his arms. Raimi rubbed his chin, contemplating the thought.
“So, I don't have to keep using a sheet of paper to talk? That's a relief. Any way you can fix this?” Raimi looked to Mewtwo expectantly.
“Sorry, Raimi, but I do not understand this fully enough to help.” His reaction elicited confused murmurs from the rest of the group assembled. “Unlike the rest of you assembled, I am psychic, which allows me to hear even now the supernatural speech of this John Raimi.” The others quietly nodded, leaving Mewtwo as the de facto interpreter for Raimi. Jason put his hand on Mewtwo's shoulder.
“So, if you're done with the introductions, why not tell us what your name is?” Mewtwo stared down at his hands, the armour adorning them. He looked up with a fire in his eyes. A psychic aura stormed in the small area around him.
“I am Mewtwo, the strongest Pokemon in the world!” He stopped, staring down. “... also the only one.” He shrugged, looking back. “I can sense two other humans. They are not far, but one might need assistance.” Mewtwo focused, attempting to see who the man was.
Near the outskirts of the Equestrian city of Canterlot, a large man in a dark cloak was flanked by two griffins in black armour and dark cloaks. He pulled down his hood, spitting on the ground. Dropping the butt of the cigar he had been smoking, he lit up another, looking ahead. One of the griffins piped up, curious.
“Lord Castellan Creed, sir! What is your plan, sir!” Creed merely pointed with his cigar at the distant towers.
“We walk in there, and meet with their rulers. By the Emperor, it's like I'm home on Cadia!” He chuckled, his distinctive 'hurr' echoing softly. He stopped to think for a minute. “Minus the fact that I'm not on Cadia, and there are no mystical creatures lingering about on Cadia. Come, guards! We have a meeting to attend!” As Creed left, a shadow detached itself from a nearby crevice in the mountain. Disappearing, it returned to its master. Creed shivered in the distance. Something did not feel quite normal.
“So, Creed has landed in a place that has not heard the whispers of Chaos Undivided, nor of the pitiful words of the Imperium's Corpse-Emperor? Beautiful. More souls to corrupt and return to the fold! Our warriors! Our legions!” Thousands upon thousands of heads turned to face the beings in front of them, the Chaos gods Tzeentch, Khorne, Slaanesh, and Nurgle. Former men clad in heavy, clanking powered armour shouted their praises to the Chaos Gods. One stepped forward. He was a former champion of the one that Creed served with all his heart.
“My lords! We are ready to bring the glory of Chaos to this world! Just say when.” He smiled, his formerly human face twisted by decades of Warp exposure. Mutations had deformed most of the armoured soldiers throughout the Legions of Chaos. He himself was not spared, the most hideous mutations bonding him directly to his armour, as if it was fleshmetal. Tzeentch held up his hand, silencing the soldiers before him.
“Traitor Legions! We do understand your thirst for battle, and blood, in Khorne's servants' case. But it is not time. There will be the time when we strike down Creed, take this 'Equestria', and show them the power that is to serve Chaos Undivided!” The other three Chaos gods murmured in agreement. The Traitor Legions before them screamed in lust-filled anger. A new world untouched by the Imperium was almost too tempting to forget the commands of Chaos Undivided. Slaanesh turned to Tzeentch with a question that was as important as warranted.
“Do you really plan to open the gateway near that world? Once the Imperium discovers it, and our influence, we will lose another world-”
“In glorious bloodshed! Beautiful bloodshed!” Khorne had risen from his Skull Throne and was shouting. His Berserkers down below pounded the ground with their powerful close combat weapons, their red armour streaked with the blood of many a battle. Tzeentch held up his hand.
“Khorne, truly it is not time! Be quiet until it is an appropriate time, or else Creed may force our hand yet again-” Slaanesh pointed at Tzeentch and began to laugh.
“Is he not the human that defeated you, the Lord of Fate, in a chess game?” Khorne, not one for simple subtlety, bellowed out a long, dark laugh. Tzeentch looked down.
“Yes, but he will die for his transgressions! When the time is right, all of our Traitor Legions will descend upon this unsuspecting world, and we will consume it!” Tzeentch breathed out slowly. There were still many preparations to make if he was to commit to this. Including the preparation of the gateway between the warp and the material universe. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author's Notes STILL not working:
So, to write this chapter, I had to watch the first Pokemon movie. THE FEELZ! I loved it.
Mewtwo was always my favourite pokemon, and people who said he sucked were always beaten by me in Pokemon.
I needed the meeting of the four of them so I could show that at least one character could interpret for Raimi.
Also, needed DESPERATELY to introduce what may become a force of evil in future chapters. I will be throwing up a poll at some point for people to vote. I would appreciate all of your votes.
So, as always! Criticism is welcome, along with opinions.
Ponies throughout Canterlot watched as a hulking figure marched through the main square of town, his cloak flowing in the chilling breeze. His scarred visage was grinning, a cigar pointing to one side. He chuckled, a distinctive 'hurr' escaping his lips as he walked through.
“I thought this world was populated by warriors, not the innocent.” He turned to one of the griffons that flanked him. She shrugged, staring down.
“Our emperor may have... embellished that fact.” The griffon glanced down at the ground, a look of shame passing across his countenance. It seemed the griffon 'emperor' had been too quick to become so powerful. Creed rubbed his chin thoughtfully with his right hand. He would have to remember that for the land of ponies that had appeared before him.
“We'd best find ourselves a base of operations. No tactics without a place to plan, right?” The griffon to his left, a rugged-built male, sneezed. A momentary chill filled the air, flowing quickly around Creed and his two griffon guards.
“What's with this weather? It's like its following us!” Creed stared up at the clouds. Something flashed around. He shrugged. It seemed like it was nothing, so he would treat it as such. As he approached the front gates of the palace the griffons had led him to, the guards crossed their spears momentarily, before looking around in confusion.
“Wasn't there a giant minotaur with you a few seconds ago?” Beyond them, just out of sight, a hand stretched out, a thumb pointing upwards. Creed had given his approval. He leaned out to watch the two griffons seemingly disappear, only to feel a tap on his back.
Mewtwo struggled to read the man he had detected. Raimi was watching, his form unmoving. Jason stood there, staring at him in wonder.
“Hey, Minsc? How can you tell if someone's dead? No breathing, right?” Minsc was seated by a large round table, vegetables and cheeses of all varieties laid before him. He was munching away, muttering something through the food that caused Jason to groan. “A lot of help you are.” Mewtwo's hand raised, pointing in a moving direction. His voice came out strained as he continued to follow.
“My power... is not as great as I assumed... follow him. He seeks the princesses. He has two... strange creatures I do not fully understand following closely. Be careful.” Mewtwo opened his eyes to Jason in a full, jet-black suit with wire trimmings, a small, arcing weapon in his hand. “Do not... kill him.” Jason held up the small handgun, a taser-like apparatus attached to the front.
“Compliance Regulator. Non-lethal... unless I, you know, zap him a few times?” Anger crossed Mewtwo's face. “I was kidding! No damage, just freezes up the body!” Mewtwo seemed to relax, returning to the reading of the second human that was incoming, quickly. Alarmingly quickly. “Buzz-kill.” Jason left the three others of their little group alone to locate the new human. His suit began to talk to him.
“Hello again. Stealth suit is now online.”
“Good. Now shut up.”
“Volume mut-” Jason sighed. Sometimes he hated the suit, but it had been the best way for him to get past all the roboscorpions. Without it, he could not have survived as long as he had. He glanced at his wrist. The Pip-Boy screen was dark, just the way he needed it to be. He clambered up an outside wall, further ahead from the point that Mewtwo had given him. Seating himself, he watched the ground, looking for the human. A ring of cold steel pressed into the unprotected back of his head.
“Stand up, right now.” Jason stood, slowly. He made sure that his weapon had disappeared before he did so. “Turn around and face me.” He turned to face the grinning mug of what seemed to be some sort of soldier. “Thought you could get the drop on me, huh?” He tapped the side of his head with his free hand. “Tactical genius. Never let your enemy gain the upper hand.” Two griffons stood behind him, mirroring his impish grin.
“So, what, you're just going to shoot me?” In response, the man put his weapon away. His hand shot forward, hovering between them.
“It is good to see another human on this world, not just myself. I am the Lord Castellan of Cadia.” Jason stared at him in confusion.
“You say that like I'm supposed to know what it means. What the fuck is a Lord Castellan, and what the fuck's a Cadia?” The man shook his head.
“Rank and homeworld. My name is Ursarkar E. Creed, although it would be more favourable to just simply call me Creed.” Jason grasped the man's hand firmly, a light shake.
“Jason Fawkes, The Courier of the Mojave Wasteland... at least, the only one that mattered, anyways.” He looked down at the ground. “So, I'm guessing you want to meet the rest of the team, right?” It was Creed's turn to have a look of utter confusion. He did not understand. There were more humans on this world of ponies? It seemed too good to be true.
Mewtwo was lying down, two ponies wearing lab coats standing over his still form. He was breathing in short, shallow breaths, a heart monitor beside him beeping, ponies bustling to and fro. His heart rate would rise in short bursts, then settle down. Minsc stood over him, frowning. Leonidas was seated in the far corner, sharpening his spear for combat, while Raimi stood watch at the window. Creed and Jason, concern on their eyes as they entered. Before they arrived at Mewtwo's bedside, Creed already had his hellpistol out, aimed directly at the psychic's head.
“Stand back. Xeno scum are not to be trusted, nor trifled with. They pretend to be on your side, and then, they strike.” With a flash, Mewtwo's eyes were wide open, flowing with psychic power. Creed's hand was forced open, the pistol clattering to the ground.
“You believe in your Emperor, Ursarkar E. Creed?” Creed was floating above the ground. He could feel unseen hands approaching his throat. His frown grew even darker.
“More than you will ever know, xeno.”
“Would you like me to send you to him... in a casket?” Mewtwo's hand was up, tightening slowly. Creed was struggling, breathing irregularly. Jason put his hand on Mewtwo's shoulder.
“That's enough! Mewtwo, like it or not, we need him. Alive, if at all possible... damaged, if you want.” Raimi had turned around, his weapon out and aimed at Creed. His face was drawn in a scowl, the anger of so much pain targeted at Creed. Minsc stood between them, smiling.
“Do we kill that which we do not know? Boo is the one you should fear!” For everyone, once more, to see, he held out his hamster, Creed staring in utter confusion. Mewtwo dropped Creed in shock, before laughter erupted from the non-existent mouth of the Pokemon.
“That is very funny, Minsc! Really! 'Boo is the one you must fear!'” Jason and Raimi caught the humour of what was said, themselves falling over in their mirth. Creed disregarded his hellpistol for the simple reason of utter and complete confusion.
“A... hamster? Really?” Minsc shoved Boo into Creed's face, causing the Lord Castellan to move backwards quickly.
“A giant, pygmy, space hamster! Boo is very, very good! There is no better!” He leaned close to Creed, sniffing. “You smell like wet laundry.” Those present in the room once again began to laugh, much to the chagrin of Creed.
“We should focus on the task at hand, mainly, why were we brought here?” Jason stared at his feet, his shoes suddenly becoming much more interesting. Mewtwo simply floated in place, staring at Creed. Raimi was cleaning his weapon, each barrel gaining tender loving care. Leonidas was laughing at stories that Minsc was telling of his adventures in Baldur's Gate. Mewtwo was the first to break the metaphorical silence, revealing the elephant in the room.
“None of us actually have any idea of why we are here, Creed of Cadia. We suspect that the princesses of the land will give us our answers soon enough-” An explosion rocked the palace, sending Raimi and Jason into immediate combat readiness, while Leonidas lifted his shield, staring out the window.
“The fires of Hades himself spread through the settlement of these creatures!” Minsc cursed under his breath, hefting his blade. Raimi frowned, staring out the window. Jason's body flashed, his armour appearing in a mere moment, a monstrous chain-blade weapon gripped tightly in his hands.
“Let's go kick their shit in, right?” All six nodded, following Creed to the fires.
The flames were rising higher as something kept up its attacks, laughing as it did so. Sometimes it would stop to talk to a rabbit that appeared to be following closely behind it, but then continue to burn and kill wantonly as it pleased. Creed was the first on the scene, the horror of the destruction barely fazing him. The creature turned to throw fire at him, its hands becoming alight with an audible 'fwoosh.' Creed was no longer there, instead standing directly behind the creature with both of his Hellpistols drawn.
“I suggest you leave now before you meet your end here.” The strange being, white-faced in a black cloak with cloth covering part of its face, began to laugh, falling over.
“My 'end?' I can't really die here, you see. It would be too boring!” Creed was, once more, no longer where he had been standing before. The creature looked up to see Creed jumping from rooftop to rooftop, in an attempt to get away. The creature smiled. “Please stay right where you are. Running makes you less tender.” Creed merely continued the smug look on his face, disappearing from sight once more. The creature dropped down into an alleyway, pitch black to the eye. “Where are you? Come on, I won't eat all of you! I'll save some of you for later!” Without warning, something revved up, contacting its neck. A saw shredded its neck, severing the head.
“Gotcha! Good plan, Creed! Minsc and Raimi should be coordinating the effort to combat the fires!” With an augmented kick, Jason sent the body of the humanoid creature flying away. Picking up the head, he was decently surprised to witness that the head was still alive.
“Well, at least it's not Kethenecia all over again.” Jason groaned, holding the head in front of him. It refused to be quiet, and began grating on Jason's nerves.
“You're not going to be quiet, are you? Don't make me put you in my pocket.” Jason held up his Pip-Boy, pressing a few buttons.
“Your pocket, why would I be- oh.” A small portal opened up, beginning to suck the head in. “I really need to think twice before I do stuff.” The head disappeared, showing up on the Pip-Boy as 'Richard the Warlock's Head.'
“Huh.” Lifting a radio, Jason contacted Creed. “Apparently, this fucker's name is Richard the Warlock- hold on a sec. His body is still moving. Yeah, I decapitated him. That wouldn't be fucking possible unless he's a fucking zombie- oh, fuck this shit!” The body of the warlock stood up, attempting to feel its way around. Jason retrieved the head, pointing at Richard's body. “What the fuck is going on?!”
“Maybe we started off on the wrong meal? No, that's wrong... I'm Richard.” The body's hands were alight with fire once more, albeit facing the wrong way, and wandering off. “Chief Warlock of the Brothers of Darkness, Lord of the Thirteen Hells, Master of the Bones, Emperor of the Black, Lord of the Undead, Lord of the Dance, Mistress of Magma, Mayor of a small village up the coast -”
“Seriously? Dude, shorten the fucking titles. That's a fucking mouthful, even for me.” Richard seemed to visibly.
“Rejoice, for very bad things are about to happen.” With that, Richard's head flew out of Jason's hand, reattaching to his body. However, instead of immediately attacking, he walked up to Jason and knocking on his helmet. Turning around, he faced the now smouldering city of Canterlot, joy in his voice.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Richard flipped around, his hands clasped as he spoke.
“I. Like. To. Kill. Things. How is this not clear by now?” With a quick flash, Richard disappeared, Jason scratching his head before lifting his radio.
“Uh, Creed? We have a problem, mainly being a happily psychotic warlock who is still at large. Oh, and he's a fucking regenerating zombie.” Tapping quickly on his weapons list, the Monster Ripper disappeared, replaced by Jason's favourite plasma rifle, the Q-35 Matter Modulator. With a whir and zap, the rifle charged, ready to fire. “I'll start a sweep from my position in the west part of the city. You start from the east. I recommend Leonidas and Mewtwo begin sweeping from the north and-” Mewtwo interrupted him while he attempted to finish his thought.
“I am sorry to interrupt, but I cannot detect the warlock within Canterlot anymore. He appears to have left. We should redouble our efforts to combat the flames.” Jason nodded, a flash indicating the return of the plasma rifle to his inventory. Creed sounded his agreement, moving to the worst of the fires from his position in the east. Minsc, having been given a radio by Jason, and shown its function, laughed in his acknowledgement.
“When we next meet this Warlock, I shall put him to the bootheels of justice!”
The better part of a week was spent suppressing the fires. It was made worse by the fire igniting some kind of primitive powder, detonating it and spreading a blaze to a large portion of the city. Creed had been first on the seen, tossing water onto the blaze. Minsc had joined him quickly after dealing with looters who had made the unfortunate mistake of threatening the ranger, with Boo quickly scaring them off as well. Leonidas was guarding innocents as they evacuated into the palace, where guards waited with blankets and disaster supplies. Jason stood with Mewtwo and Raimi inside with Celestia and Luna. Jason was visibly livid, his anger clear.
“Shit! You could have lost your city, and that fucking warlock is still out there! A happily psychotic, murdering warlock! We should be out there, hunting him down! He's a fucking threat to us!” Creed sat in a large chair, not speaking. His cigar burned brightly in his mouth, the third one in two hours. Mewtwo stared down Jason in an attempt to stall his hostilities.
“Jason, you're better than this. Don't let anger or hatred consume you.” Everyone turned to look at Creed, who was now standing. Dropping the end of his cigar, he crushed it underneath his heel, his face as still as stone.
“Creed? What the fuck do you-”
“Have I told you about Chaos, the Ruinous Powers?” Jason quieted down. It presented itself as something he wanted to take note of.
“No, actually. What are the Ruinous powers?” Creed pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing.
“Chaos was born out of the collective psychic natures of every being in the universe who has potential for psionic abilities. In the Immaterium, it was once simply a smooth sea over which you could warp-jump and have no problems. Then the lesser races, like humans, came along, and it became awash with Chaos, giving birth to the entities known as the Ruinous Powers. Those who serve them are no longer alive, in a sense, and end up.... like a Chaos Marine, or a Traitor Guard regiment.” Creed looked around, shrugging. “Eldar history injected with some of the Imperium's history.” Jason sat down, staring forwards.
“So, can we resist their power?” Creed nodded. He lifted a small Imperial Aquila mark from his pocket, laying it on the table.
“The Imperium has its undying devotion to the God-Emperor of Mankind as protection. I do not doubt the Emperor is screaming inside his chair – most cannot even stand in front of the Golden Throne anymore. Most simply are burned to a crisp... at least, that's the official story. No one really knows at all.” Creed took his seat once more, staring forward at the floor. Something was uncertain in the air, and Jason could read it well. There was something Creed was not telling them. Mewtwo seemed to sense it, if he ever showed any emotion besides narrowing his eyes.
“So, Creed...” Jason laid his hand on Creed's shoulder, bringing his attention to him. “What exactly are you not telling us?” Creed's hand tightened into a fist, his ever-present smug grin quickly disappearing. Jason backed away, for once unsure of what would happen.
“I've felt... something following me. It is cold, unnerving, and the true nature, in my honest opinion, is one of the Ruinous Powers. Chaos is preparing for an invasion, no doubt. And I have- wait...” Creed stood, his cigar falling from his mouth. Pieces fell into place, his mind latching onto the conclusion he had reached. Pointing at Celestia, he smiled once more in his usual way. “Can your summoning, well, can it be used for specific requests?” Jason smiled at Creed's thinking. He knew where Creed might go with his idea.
“Unfortunately, unless we know exactly what we are summoning, we cannot actually summon them. We summoned the best of what we knew.” Celestia looked at Creed. “The greatest general there was.” Turning, she focused on Jason. “A mercenary of extraordinary talents.” Minsc could see she was describing them, and stood at attention, a grand smile crossing his face. “A ranger of impeccable ability.” Mewtwo stopped her before she continued.
“I know the next three. Do not forget, I can read your mind, Princess Celestia, no matter how many mental blocks you create.” Celestia visibly flinched, shrinking back from Mewtwo. Raimi held his hand up to stop Mewtwo.
“I know, Mewtwo. I can see it on her face. Being unable to speak makes reading body language a great skill.” Raimi sat down on a nearby stool, staring out the window. His thoughts were on those who had lost their homes, how they would be compensated for the loss they suffered. They were the hapless few that should have died, that should have never come to the land they had found themselves in. He shook his head. There was no point in dwelling on that any more. He needed to focus, they needed to focus on the problem at hand. A villain had shown his cards, and another had yet to play.
“Inquisitor Furio!” A battle raged around the red-armoured force that pushed its way through the horrific forces of Chaos, their weapons cutting through exposed flesh with ease. The whirring of servos punctuated the report of bolters, the sheer tenacity of the force bringing soldier after soldier down.
“Get down, you fools!” A large purple blast slammed into the Inquisitor's bunker, an enemy plasma emplacement opening up on them. With a growl of anger, Furio stood up, a sniper rifle in his hands. With a couple of well-placed shots, the gunners were down, but that offered merely a momentary reprieve.
“Inquisitor Furio! Our request for assistance is unheeded! The Imperium has abandoned Janus!” Furio swore under his breath. Varik was going to have his head if he survived, if any of them survived. Someone approached from a tunnel underneath the bunker. If Furio had not been wanting the abilities of that individual, he would have shot them.
“You have need of my skills, Inquisitor?” An Imperium Battle Psyker, a powerful psionic trained specifically for offense, stood in front of him, his demented face smirking as he witnessed the force's last stand.
“Yes, I do, psyker. Please, assist us. We cannot abandon Janus, as the Imperium has abandoned us.” The psyker nodded, the energies of the Warp surrounding him as a shield to protect him as he exited the structure, his mind set, his task at hand. Furio waved his soldiers down, making certain they fell to their knees.
“Witness!” A large amount of energy was building up, the ground crackling. Most who were holding weapons dropped them, jumping into the holes that led to the underground catacombs. The forces of Chaos had turned their attention to the psyker, who seemed very angry. “Your!” The energy continued to build, swirling around the psyker in a powerful blue vortex, white energy intermingling as well. Chaos soldiers had begun to take cover, the realization hitting them like an Exterminatus warhead. Many had simply dropped their weapons, fleeing in fear. “Doom!” The psyker released the energy of the Warp, a powerful wave of psionic energy unleashed against the routed forces of Chaos. Marines were burned, Traitor Guardsmen fell to pieces, and Daemons were completely eradicated. The psyker returned to the bunker, looking down the tunnel. A voice drifted up to him, his smile shifting to one of a smug nature.
“Is it all right to come out?” The psyker laughed, clambering into the hole.
“Inquisitor-” The psyker's voice trailed off as he witnessed the Inquisitor. The eight-point star of Chaos was upon the armour of some of the Guardsmen in the tunnel, the Inquisitor's black hair long against his head.
“Traitors. How could I not have seen it? You betrayed your friends, your family!” The Guardsmen laughed, their arms twisting and mutating before the eyes of the psyker and Furio. Before Furio could react, a lashing of Warp energy slashed apart the traitors, rendering them into pieces. Furio turned to the psyker, who merely shrugged. “Squad, how many of you remain?” The squad with him stumbled out into the light. One carried the tank and tool necessary of a heavy flamer, promethium still alight in the main barrel of the weapon.
“Sergeant Cassius. My squad was wiped out.” He saluted, moving back to allow a clanking, armoured soldier forward, a large plasma cannon in his hands. As he spoke, his voice was synthesized, a large helmet on his head in the guise of the Grim Reaper.
“Sergeant Martus, Furio, callsign Reaper. All that remained of my squad are those traitors that lie on the ground in pieces.” His body whirred as mechanical components ground and shifted, the only possible way for a simple Guardsman to handle such a weapon. Two more crawled out of the darkness, standing at attention. Both wore long coats, helmets with visors obscuring their faces. Modified plasma rifles stood at the ready in their hands, advanced cooling systems removing much of the hazard of their use. The Ignus twins operated as one, leading some to believe. Neither of them spoke, merely nodding or clicking their radios twice in agreement. Furio frowned.
“There's not enough of our forces left for an effective counter-attack. We're outnumbered, outgunned, and short on supplies. What do we have left?” The psyker stumbled forward, the pain of his previous attack evident on his face.
“You have my abilities. Since we have been removed from the eye of the Emperor, I would assume you need to know my title, Inquisitor?” Furio shrugged, following Cassius as the group began to move through the tunnels, the man with the flamer taking point due to his close quarters combat proficiency.
“It couldn't hurt. I mean, to know the name of a psyker, without them threatening to slaughter me if I ever mention it to any others? That, in of itself, is a completely new opportunity.” The psyker stared at the ground, as if to signify that it was something that normally he would kill to protect.
“I am Janus, of my cabal of psykers. We were sanctified to protect this planet from the perils of the warp, although we failed.” Furio placed his hand on the psyker's shoulder, prompting Janus to shy away from the contact. Before he even spoke, a great, multi-hued portal appeared, something Furio had never expected. While the Imperium had abandoned them, the portal before them did not appear to be malevolent.
“Janus, do you sense Chaos in this portal?” The psyker shook his head, approaching it. His hand hovered over, as if scanning it with his mind.
“I sense... compassion, freedom, elements that humanity no longer has. That we now have.” Screams from outside the tunnels, coupled with the echoing laughter of Chaos Marines, startled them all into action.
“Everyone, through the portal! We may not be able to defeat them all if we stay! Whatever is beyond this portal, let it be better than this!” With that, the small group charge through the portal, Furio firing at the charging Chaos Marines. “To hell with this!” He turned, jumping through the portal, the hole in space and time closing behind him.
Furio looked around, the room he was in pitch-black. A steady hum accompanied a grating sound like metal, incredibly similar to the low hum of an Imperial Navy transport. Flashlights flickered on, shining around.
“Squad, sound off!” The others in the squad shone their flashlights around, their faces etched with confusion.
“Cassius, here!”
“Martus, here!”
“Janus, more or less!” The Ignus twins merely blinked their flashlights in agreement. Furio was about to sound off when the lights inside the room flickered on, revealing what appeared to be a massive cryogenics chamber. A window on the side looked out into space, towards a planet.
“Squad! We're no longer on our world anymore! We're... somewhere else entirely.” Guardsmen in black armour and clothing began to file into the room, their lasguns aimed at the squad. Furio, sensing a situation, carefully set down his rifle.
“Quite true, Inquisitor. You are aboard an Order of the Black Hand vessel, the Crimson Guardian. We are here tracking the signal of Ursarkar E. Creed, the Warp having sent us back in time, if that is even possible-” The squad in front of the soldier that spoke shouted in unison, something that he could never have foreseen.
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...”
Although the day had started out normally, it had eventually devolved into a situation that was beyond what Jason Fawkes had ever decided that he could handle.
“No.” He stared down at the ponies who looked up at him from his perch on top of a local coffee shop, his little bastion of safety from the group below him.
“Why not?! It's only for a short while-”
“You don't understand. I graduated from the Academy of 'Fuck This Shit', a doctorate in 'Nope, Not Happening,' and a minor in 'Hell No.' You understand what I mean?” The ponies still stared up at him as he tried glaring at them. His 'Academy' reason to say 'no' was not working, which meant he was stuck on the roof until they either left or he went with them. Standing up, he looked up at the rising sun. It was still the middle of the morning, and he could not see the outlines of Mewtwo or Creed, the two of their group that had followed him on his little excursion into the city. Sitting down, he shook his head in exasperation. A voice behind him drew his attention as he flipped around, his hand flashing as he withdrew the Compliance Regulator from his Pip-Boy. He stared directly at Minsc, who stared down at the ponies below.
“Why do you not wish to join the ponies in their mirth? Minsc and Boo join them! It is incredible fun!” Jason covered his face with his hands, sighing as he turned to look at Canterlot from his rooftop perch. He sat down, shaking his head.
“Can I be honest with you, Minsc?” Jason turned to see Minsc settling down beside him, staring out over the city. The ranger nodded.
“The anger, the swearing... it's all an act, really. I'm angry at myself more than anything else.” He let the Pip-Boy digitize the Compliance Regulator, looking down at his knees. He drew them up to his chest, shaking his head.
“Why are you angry with yourself, Fawkes? This I would definitely like to know.” Jason turned to find Creed sitting on the other side of him.
“I let so many people die in the Mojave. So many I could have helped, but I did not. I was stabbed, shot, and burned, and it never kept me down. An entire town burned to the ground because I couldn't deal with a few gang members.” Jason looked down at the ponies below, sighing. A tear fell from his eye.
“If I let myself feel anything towards anyone, they died, without any warning. I can't get attached to anyone. Everyone I get attached to dies. The only reason the scientists at Big Mountain never died, well, they're massively intelligent. They designed a teleporter gun, for crying out loud!” Creed put his hand on Jason's shoulder, sighing.
“Jason, might I let you in on a little secret? I'm not the great general that Cadia wishes I was. The impure forces of Chaos invaded so many times... the fact that I have the lowest casualties is the only reason I am the best. I fight alongside my own soldiers to prove to myself that I will not let my men believe that they are alone in the fight. I will not eat the food of officers, but of the grunts, the true soldiers. Guardsmen who give their lives every day, and are still giving their lives.” Creed stopped to breathe, panting. Jason and Minsc both glanced at him in shock, unsure of what to say. Never before had their compatriot fully explained anything. Minsc lifted his hamster, looking whimsically off into the sky.
“I am not the unintelligent ranger that everyone believes me to be. Minsc may be my name, and I may be a ranger and berserker of Rashemen, but there is nothing preventing me from being brilliant. I feigned a head injury to allow myself some leeway in matters regarding the Bhaalspawn of the land I come from.” Minsc leaned back, sighing.
“I had a love once, friend Fawkes. I lost her... to a terrible wizard by the name of Jon Irenicus. I watched him die, screaming my most powerful battlecry!” He withdrew his sword, Boo perching on his shoulder and squeaking.
“'I grow tired of yelling battle cries when fighting this mage! Boo will finish your eyeballs once and for all so he does not rise again! Evil, meet my sword! Sword! Meet! Evil!'” When he finished, he smiled, letting the sun glint off the grand sword that he knew had once brought a vampire lord to their knees.
“My friend, you have camaraderie with us. We may be the unlikeliest of heroes, considering most of our backgrounds, but we still have one another. There might not be-” Creed looked off in the distance towards something shambling. Jason was already standing, his hands typing in commands to his Pip-Boy.
“Creed, please don't tell me that that is what I think it is.” Creed swallowed, nodding. Jason turned to Minsc, who was already jumping off the roof.
“Follow the ranger, Jason! I will find the rest of our compatriots!” Jason needed no prompting, his powered armour appearing around him as he leapt off the rooftop to the street.
--------====||====--------
As he arrived at the place where he saw the strange shambling creatures, he watched as Minsc charged through a crowd of them, their limbs scattering as their gray uniforms acted not unlike tissue paper to the ranger's powerful sword. Jason rolled out of the way of another, the symbol on the uniform similar to something he had read from an old history book. Withdrawing his Q-35 Matter Modulator – he was rather proud of his plasma rifle's name – he started taking potshots at the ones that were closest, the flesh slowly bubbling as the corpses slammed into the ground. He raised his hand to his head, blocking out the sun so he could see. More of those creatures poured into the town, many simply keeling over and piling up as their heads smashed into the ground, the blood black in colour as it sprayed the cobblestones. The ones who still stood were contending with Creed and Minsc as they either slashed or burned holes through them.
“Fawkes! I bring assistance!” Mewtwo floated down from the sky, his psionic voice booming to the crowd. An orange blur underneath him was replaced by Raimi as he slowed down. With a click and a whir, Raimi's chaingun spun up, the shells clattering to the pavement as the bullets tore through the somewhat-alive walking corpses.
“Thanks! Try and round those things up! They are-” A scream from above forced the group to look up as the enraged form of Leonidas lept down from the rooftops, slamming his spear into one of them and spinning around, using his new spear tip as a blunt instrument.
“The dead walk again, and you speak of strategy? I have never had such battle as this!” With a smile drawn across his face, Leonidas lept from creature to creature, nimbly hopping on their heads as he made his way to the other side. Fawkes leaned towards Creed, irritation in his voice.
“I want to know how he did that in bronze armor.” Creed glanced at Fawkes, sighing.
“You are wearing powered armor. Any attempt at such would simply crush the-” Without another word, Fawkes was off, attempting to follow Leonidas across the field of corpses. Ponies scattered as the armor slammed into the ground repeatedly, the dead merely banging off the outer shell. In a flash, his Ripper was brought forth, the Q-35 Modulator disappearing in a similar light.
“Less talk, more action, guys-” As they continued to fight the corpses, Raimi overheard two arguing voices nearby. One sounded distinctly like a certain warlock, and the other was as stereotypically German as one could get.
“I am Richard!”
“I am Richtofen!”
“I am Richard!”
“I am Richt- mein Gott! Those pathetic excuses of heroes vill be here zoon, you dummkopf!” Raimi peeked over the near wall he stood by, staring down at a lower path, and the very warlock he had been told about. The other – Richtofen, by the name – was poking Richard in the shoulder, yelling and cursing in his native language.
“You sent undead, Richtofen. Surely we are to expect better of such theatrics from the S.S.'s very own 'Good Doctor', hmm?” Another figure entered the roadway, causing Raimi to cover his mouth. Alexander Volks, the founder of Volks Corp and the very project that had ripped his soul from his body, was walking and talking below him. Before he could leap down and engage, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Creed shook his head, frowning at the three men below.
“I'm sorry, Raimi, but revenge is not what we are for. However,” he shouted as he slammed his fist into the skull of another creature, “we are here to protect the innocent, and let the world know that we will not die!” Raimi nodded, turning away, not noticing that Volks had slightly turned his head, smiling as he saw Raimi, a look of something that would be welcome anywhere else.
--------====||====--------
As the sun set later in the day, the corpses still made no sign of slowing. Fawkes could no longer use his Pip-Boy, as the screen had been smashed when a zombie had forced his arm up against the wall, while Leonidas, stout as he was, continued to be forced back. With a glow of brilliant yellow, the corpses floated up, leaving the six warriors standing still. Looking straight up, Fawkes could only smile as he saw Celestia herself descending.
“Must be a fucking Tuesday again if you're going to join us in the muck, Princess. We were just cleaning up these... Dammit. Creed, know a good word for them?”
“Undead, Fawkes.”
“These 'undead.' Now, I've faced some pretty fucked-up shit in the Mojave, but this is just out of the ordinary for me. Creed's fought these things before, while the closest I fought were robot suits with skeletons inside. Trauma Harnesses.” Fawkes removed his helmet, sitting down and leaning up against the wall. His helmet sparked, the Heads Up Display inside completely ruined as he leaned his head back. Creed sat down beside him, offering him a cigar.
“Here. Takes the edge off.” Fawkes nodded, taking the cigar. After he lit it, he took a couple of puffs and continued.
“These fuckers, well, they're wearing the old uniforms of Nazi Germany. Before you ask Creed, they're an old group of genocidal fuckheads that thought they could take over the world. Then again, they're dead now. That's what happens when you piss off most of the free world.” Fawkes took a few more puffs, chuckling to himself.
“Minsc and Boo, we are fine.” Minsc walked up, cleaning his sword of black blood as he hummed. Raimi was doubled over, panting and wheezing as if he had just run a marathon.
“You protected my little ponies again. For that, you have my thanks. However, there is another matter to be dealt with.” Raimi looked up as his most hated enemy walked around from behind Celestia, clasping his hands and flexing his fingers.
“Yes, well, such a good job can come from the one who brought me down. You do have my thanks for that, John Raimi. Oh, don't be surprised. You aren't the only one who has come back from the dead. While I am not allowed to directly interfere, Raimi, I can offer some advice.” Raimi was standing directly in front of Alexander Volks, about ready to lift his hand against him once more when Mewtwo placed his hand on his shoulder.
“Raimi, it is time to let the past be the past. Volks is more different than you or I understand, but he is sincere.” Volks nodded to Mewtwo, who floated away to see what assistance he could offer the rest.
“Well, that... thing, it has a good point. I've let my past go behind me, but I have learned from it. Besides erasing all connections to the occult, I've led a fairly active quest to quiet those who would do harm with such dark powers.” He held out a file folder, one that was dank from age with mildew. The name on the file read 'Doctor Edward Richtofen.'
“Huh, something on our enemy, right?” Fawkes stood behind Raimi, raising an eyebrow in question.
“Yes, actually. Well, just one. Due to my work with spiritual energies and the occult, I've been... scouted as a partner to rather unsavory individuals. Oh, don't look at me like that, Raimi. It isn't like I was exactly myself when that all happened. Look, either way it happened, and I was brought here as a consultant. Problem is, I have no want to assist those men, or the monsters that they work for, get what they want.” Volks looked up to see Creed, Leonidas, Minsc, and Mewtwo arrive behind Fawkes and Raimi. He frowned, looking at each one of them in turn.
“Monsters? What kind of trickery is this?!” Leonidas was about to grab Volks jacket when Creed held his hand back.
“Volks is here to help us, King Leonidas. While you and your friends were fighting these undead, we were busy closing the rifts they came through. Normally, asking the Elements of Harmony-”
“'Elements of Harmony?' What the fuck are those, some kind of superweapon?”
“-asking the Elements of Harmony-”
“You're not going to explain what those are? Some of us are quite curious, if you can't fucking tell.”
“-asking-”
“That's still not answering the most pertinent question-” Minsc grabbed Fawkes and tossed him to the ground, shoving a torn piece of cloth from a nearby awning in his mouth.
“-asking the Elements of Harmony would have been enough to stop them, as the energies of the Magic of Friendship would suffice to remove such horrible disharmony.” Fawkes removed the piece of offending material, and spat on the ground.
“Allow me to ask another question.” Celestia thought for a minute, squaring her eyes on his.
“Go... ahead.”
“Are you a fucking communist?” The other five, Volks, and Celestia all stared at Fawkes blankly as he glared at Celestia, his hatred evident.
“A... communist?”
“Disharmony? Peace? Lady, I hope you remember why you brought us here. We don't negotiate for peace. We fight for the end of wars. You send us in not when you want a calm resolution, but when you want a fucking body count! Talk to me when you think I'm needed. Fuck this shit, and fuck this place.”
“Fawkes-”
“And fuck you too, Creed!” Fawkes slammed his fist against the nearby stone wall, cracking it and leaving the impression of his hand as he walked away. He tossed his helmet over the nearby wall into the street below, scowling when he heard it slam into a cart of apples. Creed clenched his fist as he followed behind closely.
--------====||====--------
“Fuck them, and fuck this place! Can't even get through to fucking Mobius with this broken piece of shit!” Creed ducked as Fawke's Pip-Boy flew out of the room he occupied, various pieces of his power armor scattered around the room as he pulled himself out of it. His Ripper lay against the wall, a journal open on the desk.
“Fawkes, what were you thinking?!” Fawkes looked up, his emotion evident by the tears streaming down his face.
“What do you think I was thinking, Creed? That I have a damn choice?! That I fucking want to be here?! I might very well be the last sane person in all of the fucking Mojave Wasteland, and yet, I can't even keep myself from realizing that the entire fucking Wasteland relied on me when they were all a bunch of stuck up shitstains who couldn't even change a fucking fuse without someone leading them to a switch they knew was already fucking there!” He tossed a gauntlet at the mirror, scowling as he watched the shards hit the ground.
“Fawkes-”
“You want to know what the worst part is? I had a girl in the Mojave. A sweet thing. I loved her to pieces, Creed, and what happened to her?! I was tied down while they beat, raped, and finally ate her in front of me! I'm not ever going to forget her face so filled with the mark of betrayal as all I could do was sit there and watch!” He lay down on the ground, staring up at the ceiling. Covering his face with his hands, it was all he could do to keep from screaming his head off. Creed sat down, crossing his legs as he shook his head.
“I cannot pretend to understand what you've gone through, Fawkes, but there are times where we cannot hope to understand what has befallen those we cared about. Chaos ripped my family apart – my wife and daughter – right in front of me. Chaos Marines and Imperial Guard traitor scum.” He sighed, shaking his head. Standing up, he headed for the door.
“Creed-”
“Fawkes, when you are ready to man up and choose to fight instead of letting the fight rule your life, come and talk to me. Otherwise, keep crying about something that happened to you in the past. Trust me, Chaos will do that and far worse when it comes to this planet.” The door closed as Fawkes sat up, staring at the door.
Fawkes stumbled out of a small tavern holding his jaw as he clenched his other fist. Three minotaurs stood in a line, one holding a broken bottle dripping with blood. Another minotaur stumbled out, standing next to him as he righted himself. Running his fist across his jaw to wipe away the blood dripping from his lip, Fawkes smiled.
“Well, you and me against the world, eh, Iron Will?” Iron Will held up his fists, spitting blood onto the ground. He seemed to be having trouble standing, favouring his left leg. The three minotaurs spread out, circling the group of two as they kept each other from falling over.
“Iron Will will not be defeated!” His shout gave the three minotaurs pause until they jumped towards Fawkes, whose smile only grew even wider. As if in slow motion, he brought his armored fist up quickly right into the stomach of the minotaur, the sound of bones cracking signifying that he had, in fact, connected exactly where he wanted to.
“You'd better stay down, motherfucker.” He flipped around, landing a roundhouse kick directly into the chest of the second minotaur, sending him flying through a nearby fence. Animals held in the nearby fenced-off pen scattered to the winds as the third minotaur seemed to regret his decision as Iron Will raised up to his full height.
“As my human friend would say,” Iron Will stated as he grabbed the minotaur's arm, “'go to Hell.'” With a mighty shout of strength, he flipped the minotaur over his shoulder, slamming him into the ground as others started to filter out from the tavern. Fawkes spat out the blood in his mouth, cracking his wrists as he frowned.
“Iron Will, that's the third job you've had me out on with you. I know I asked you to keep me busy, but this is a little ridiculous.” Iron Will stopped as Fawkes spoke a sentence without swearing once, thinking back to Fawkes' explanation of events that had transpired before everything that they had done together.
----==|THREE DAYS PREVIOUS|==----
“Creed, I'm not changing my mind. I'm fucking useless here without fighting, and I know jack shit about dealing with politicians and law enforcement.” Fawkes was wearing only pieces of his power armor, mainly the gloves and the boots, the rest of it piled in the corner along with the dented helmet he had tossed away.
“Fawkes, you've inspired many to join Celestia's Solar Guard. Don't deny the hope you've given many!” Fawkes stopped, turning quickly. He stood still as Creed adjusted his power armor, making sure the camouflage t-shirt was not caught.
“Thanks for that. Still, I've got to think some things over, Creed. I can't do that while in the seat of fucking richness and luxury.” Creed was given pause by the lower amount of swearing that Fawkes was using. Fawkes was serious. He pointed at his duster, pointing out the patched holes in it.
“I hope you've got some idea of who you're doing these jobs with. I-” Almost as if on cue, a large, grey minotaur burst in through the door, wearing a black t-shirt and thick leather gloves.
“Good to see you, Fawkes! Iron Will is ready to leave. My show is being put on hold while I help you, my friend.” Creed's jaw dropped when he saw the minotaur shake Fawkes' hand, smiling.
“Fawkes, you will have to tell me the story about how you and him became friends one day.” Fawkes smiled as he strapped his Monster Ripper to his back. Flipping up the collar of the duster, he waved as he followed Iron Will out.
“So, bounty hunting. This is a fucking new one, even for you, Iron Will.” Iron Will silently held up a poster of three imposing minotaurs, each one guilty of crimes that gave even Fawkes pause.
“Vandalism, theft, murder, treason, the list goes on, Fawkes. I've followed the trail of these minotaurs to the edge of Equestria. To Appleloosa.” Fawkes' smile grew even wider as he held up a bottle cap in one hand, flipping it over as he read the inscription somepony had scratched in it. 'Come back anytime! - Braeburn.' He stuffed it in his pocket, following Iron Will out of the castle.
----==|PRESENT DAY|==----
Fawkes dragged the unconscious minotaurs against the partially destroyed fence while Iron Will sprinted around and gathered up the animals. Producing a cord of rope from a bag that one of the three had been carrying, he tied them tightly down, making sure to avoid anything that might cause too much pain to them. Wiping his forehead, he turned and looked at Iron Will, who was gathering pieces to repair the fence.
“That's it for this job, then. I'll see if I can call it-” A flash of light behind him startled him as he and Iron Will watched something akin to a rift ripping open the wall of reality. Hefting his Monster Ripper, Fawkes smiled as he stood up, standing beside Iron Will as an orange pony approached them.
“Fawkes! Y'all gotta help us-”
“Interdimensional rift, possibly bringing through a large number of enemies, and we're the only ones in the town with combat experience. Braeburn, do you even have to ask?” Iron Will merely chuckled as he lifted a large machete.
“Whatever happens, Fawkes, remember that I will always fight beside you.” Fawkes lifted his hand in a fist, staring straight ahead at the rift. Iron Will returned the fist bump as they took off running, their shadows long in the glow of the setting sun.
--------====||====--------
Creed stood at the edge of the castle wall, looking out to the edge of Equestria. He could sense that he might be needed, but ignored the instinct to fight, as he had an inkling that someone he knew was already on it.
--------====||====--------
Fawkes stood at the edge, staring down at the rift that was forming. He drew his Ripper as he crouched, creeping closer until he could clearly see what was happening. Dead bodies of creatures he had never seen before lay on the ground, green blood and clouds of toxins spreading around.
“They're on your left!”
“Grenade out!”
“Martinson, behind you!”
“You bloody fucker, come get some!” Fawkes raised an eyebrow, looking over at Iron Will who shrugged, signifying he was just as confused. He set the Ripper down, getting closer until he was almost at the edge of the fog that had started to appear. Almost as soon as he was at the edge, something started glowing behind it, a deep crimson red. His mind clued in quickly, leaping to the side as a beam of crimson death flew overhead.
“We've got movement!”
“Ah, shot wide!” As he was standing back up, a soldier in heavy armor jumped out of the mist, tackling Fawkes to the ground and aiming his rifle at Fawkes' head.
“Down on the- sir? We've got... a huma-” His sentence was cut short as Iron Will tossed him like a ragdoll back into the mist, dragging Fawkes back as their eyes were still wide, taking in the scene.
“Dammit, Martinson's down!”
“Fujisara, toss a grenade!” An object landed between Iron Will and Fawkes and began to beep rapidly. Looking at each other, they dived for cover, Fawkes almost taking a piece of shrapnel to his shoulder. Peeking over their respective bits of cover, Iron Will flashed Fawkes a thumbs up to relay that he was all right.
“Fuck that was close. What kind of fucking idiots throw a fucking grenade in a fucking cloud of smoke?! That's batshit insane, if you ask me.” Three forms exited the mist, aiming wide as they scanned the area. The soldier that Iron Will had tossed was held up on their shoulders, groaning as he regained consciousness.
“Miller, Martinson shouted something about a human. Could it be... you know-”
“EXALT? Not likely, Fujisara. Lance had better be alright. Doesn't look like whatever tossed him was trying to hurt him-”
“Yeah, because the fucker decided to jump me. Good thing he didn't jump my friend, or he'd be fucking dead, you assholes.” Fawkes stood up from behind cover, walking out towards them with his Ripper drawn.
“Whoa, hostile!” They dropped Martinson, training their weapons on Fawkes while he watched Iron Will sneak around behind them.
“Down on the ground!” Fawkes ignored them, firing up his Ripper.
“You came to this world, shooting a fucking laser rifle, nearly take my fucking head off, and expect me to listen to a damn thing you shitheads have to say?!” He sat down on a nearby rock, turning off the Ripper.
“What are you-”
“Eh, I've seen worse reasons to listen to someone. Iron Will, don't hurt them.” Iron Will backed away, giving the three a wide berth as he moved to sit beside Fawkes.
“Who are-”
“Jason Fawkes, Courier Six, and you just tried to kill me and my friend. Hope that clears that up.” The two standing set their rifles down, seating themselves in the dust as a large rush of wind blew through, a white light disappearing as darkness fell, the rift dissipating into ash.
“So...”
“Iron Will, could you set up camp? I don't like being out in the dark too long.”
--------====||====--------
Fawkes stood by the fire, warming his hands as the three soldiers explained what had transpired. Their leader, a Colonel Isaac Miller, had ordered a retreat when EXALT – the pure opposite of their anti-alien defense force XCOM, or the Extraterrestrial Combat Unit – forced their hand and caused their Skyranger, a Vertical Take-Off/Landing combat transport, to leave them behind. Aliens had swarmed them as EXALT had kept them suppressed, forcing one of them to test out a new device they had been equipped with, a quantum bomb that, instead of creating an explosion, ripped apart reality and sent the three of them through.
“That's.. a lot to take in. So, what about Alaska, China invading?” Miller and Fujisara stared at each other, their eyebrows raised.
“There was no conflict between the Chinese and the rest of the world, especially the United States. My wife was Chinese, Courier-”
“It's Fawkes.” The colonel sighed, rubbing his forehead. He regretted detonating that quantum bomb, but he knew it had been the only way to take out that specific cell of EXALT, and their alien ally contingent, without causing, hopefully, too much damage.
“You're aware of the Multiverse theory, right?” Fawkes had to think about that one. He remembered the eggheads at Big Mountain having mentioned something along those lines, which started to make sense.
“The one about there being an infinite number of universes where every probability is possible, every possible decision we could have ever made?”
“Precisely. What it sounds like is that you've come from not from this dimension-” Fawkes held up his hand, sighing.
“I was in contact with scientists from my Earth. They said they could track me, but I was on a planet orbiting Proxima Centauri.” The colonel choked for a minute, his eyes going wide as he stared at Fawkes, his hat quivering in the light breeze.
“P-Proxima Centauri? Then we've traveled farther than any other person in the entire universe!” Fawkes raised his hand, smiling. His smile faded when he heard movement nearby.
“Tell me you've got a sidearm I can use.”
“Just a laser pistol, but I don't see-”
“Give it here.” The colonel tossed it to Fawkes, who looked it over in amazement.
“We didn't have laser weapons like this. The battery pack is self-contained, and the beam is more highly concentrated. Must have a hell of a punch.” He pointed the pistol at the darkness, growling deep in his throat in anger.
“Fawkes-”
“Come on out! I know you're watching, so there's no point in hiding!” An older man entered the light, making Fawkes shake his head in amazement.
“Fawkes.”
“Alexander Volks. To what do I owe the fucking pleasure?” Volks merely smiled, seating himself at the fire. He held out a small PDA, letting Jason take a look through.
“Proof, Jason. There's a little research I've done about the world at large now. You're not actually from Earth, but from a terraformed copy that, unfortunately, felt the sting of apocalyptic nuclear war.” He sighed, staring at the fire and watching the tongues of flame lick at the dry wood in the pile.
“Colonel Miller, you might want to come here and look at this.” Miller moved over, staring at the screen.
“But, that's... that's not possible. We're all from this dimension, and all from different time periods?!” They both stared at Volks, who merely raised his hand and smiled.
“My friends, there's a lot more going on than what you understand. A gathering darkness will come upon this world. On that day, I will be able to assist, but until that day...” He vanished from sight, causing Fawkes and Miller to jump.
“You're going to have to learn about who you really are.”
--------====||====--------
Creed stepped away from the edge of the wall in Canterlot, returning to the palace and Celestia, the one pony he had discovered he could fully disclose a lot of what he had faced and she would not run. Instead, she would just let a single tear escape, the face a person, or pony, who had faced horrific war of unimaginable proportions that none could fathom. Leonidas was training with his buffalo compatriots, competing against Minsc who, in fact, was laughing and smiling as they tried to knock him over. Raimi and Mewtwo were meditating, the supernatural energies surrounding Raimi visible as colourful lights. Pushing open the doors, he entered the main corridor, pulling out another Cuban cigar and lighting it up. He leaned against the wall, closing his eyes and lifting his head to relax.
“Something on your mind, General?” The two griffons who had come with him came out from where they were watching and looked up at him.
“My home. Cadia still has a large enemy force of Chaos Marines and Traitor Guard that are deeply entrenched. Peace my home has never known. I was just wishing we had even a small squad of Kasrkin, the most elite soldiers of Cadia. Born and bred for war, in the sense. None else can look down the sights of a weapon at the mutated horrors of Chaos and pull the trigger without so much as a blink of the eye.” He sat down, the griffons taking a seat on either side of him.
“Sir.”
“The Eye of Terror is the greatest concentration of evil the entire universe has ever known. Chaos' forces stream forth every time of a black crusade, and have ruined my planet many times. Fawkes was telling me the horrors of atomic warfare, and it reminded me-”
“Of the planet of Krieg, sir?” Creed looked up to see four troopers wielding lasguns staring at him. The griffons got up, standing between Creed and the Death Korps soldiers.
“Sergeant Michaels.”
“It's just Tallius now sir. We had a... disagreement with the Space Marines over deployments, and we said something we shouldn't have. One thing led to another, and we ended up here. Just to let you know,” Tallius stated, “The Order of the Black Hand has several ships in orbit. We've got the forces and the technology to equip it.” Creed was about to hold up his hand when a shiver went down his spine.
“Did you feel that?”
“Yes sir. I did.”
“Something horrible is coming.”
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Fawkes looked up to see a streaking flame, pieces of metal showering off of it as it slammed into the ground.
“Get to cover!” The pod, of sorts, blew its doors off, letting out a foul stench. Fawkes covered his nose, his face wrinkled in disgust. He heard clanking and growling, almost as if- he shivered. Remembering what Creed told him about the Ruinous Powers before, he shook in fear. He was staring at honest-to-God Chaos Space Marines. He looked over at Iron Will, who stood beside the XCOM soldiers. He lifted his hand, making the motion for them to circle around behind. He flipped the switch on the laser pistol when he heard something land in the sand beside him. Picking it up, he realized that Colonel Miller had tossed him a radio headset. Smiling, he quickly put it on, tuning it to a frequency he knew by heart.
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Creed was about to continue talking when he felt his communicator click. Lifting it, he raised an eyebrow as he heard quiet voices, and then his eyes went wide. He could hear the telltale sounds of Chaos, and of Traitor Marines. His free hand clenched as he lowered the communicator. Pointing at the soldiers of Krieg, he started barking orders.
“Get on the vox with your ships in orbit! We have a Chaos incursion. There is a small warband of probably around five or six, but one is carrying a Heavy Bolter, another with a Missile Launcher! Area outside of a frontier town, probably six kilometers out.” The soldiers from Krieg nodded as a Vox Trooper entered the room.
“Get on the comms, Private. Give Captain Ackeron the coordinates of the drop zone.” They looked at Creed, who seemed incredibly puzzled.
“Drop zone? I thought you would use Valkyrie Dropships?”
“Dropships? You underestimate the Black Hand, Creed. We are the best of the best, for one reason: We will willingly jump into hell to prove we will fight for humanity, no matter what we believe.” A crackle and a low voice barked a response from the Vox Trooper's receiver.
“Then they've got reinforcements?”
“They're sending Kasrkin, Creed.”
“Wait... you mean...”
“Your own people fight alongside us, Creed. We fight secretly on Cadia to free her from the grips of Chaos using whatever weapons we've... 'procured' in our long fight against pretty much the entire galaxy.
“You boyz gonna get dem Chaos boyz, eh?” Creed raised an eyebrow, very curious.
“The Orkz decided to help us in exchange for scrap. Specifically, Warboss Gorgutz 'Eadhunter.” Creed could only gawk as the troopers disappeared in a flash of light, shaking his head as to what he just witnessed.
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“Slaughter them! Blood for the Blood God! Skulls for the Skull Throne!” Fawkes had to stay behind his rock as the rounds from the heavy machine gun that one Marine was carrying pounded pieces from it.
“You fuckers are going to eat shit, you hear-” More light above made him crane his neck. There were ten, no twenty, no- Fawkes gave up counting them as they had begun to slam into the ground, doors flying off.
“Kill them all! Leave none alive, troopers!” Laser beams and plasma blasts peppered the air as the Marines turned to face the new threat, shells pouring on as Fawkes watched both sides engage in a battle that the Marines, quite honestly, were not in good chances of winning. There were a lot of soldiers, and he could hear the whir of cybernetics. Fawkes stood up, smiling.
“Leave some of the fuckers for me!” Firing off his laser pistol, he was surprised to see the beam cut right through the armor. Smiling, he charged forward, firing off more shots as the troopers came from the other side, supported by the XCOM soldiers. Rolling and firing, the troopers took down two of the Marines, one of the remaining ones hefting a rather large rocket launcher to fire at the other troops. Fawkes could not allow them to kill the soldiers that were fighting on his side. Without thinking, he leaped onto the Chaos Marine, wrapping his cybernetic arm around the Marine's throat.
“What the-”
“You motherfuckers are going to die-” Suddenly, he was accosted by visions of evil and destruction.
“You know not the power you contend with, mortal. Give yourself to Chaos, and true power will be yours-” Fawkes put the gun to the Marine's neck, firing three times before jumping off and kicking the corpse to the ground. The other troopers had already taken down the remaining Marine, piling the corpses and weapons on a funeral pyre. One came forward wielding a large flamethrower, setting the entire pile on fire, bodies, wood, and weapons. He shook his shoulders, sighing as he removed his helmet. Looking to Fawkes, he smiled and held out a hand.
“Captain Jonas Ackeron, commander of the Crimson Guardian, at your service.”
