//------------------------------//
// Stormy Weather 
// Story: Gear in the Machine 
// by SFaccountant 
//------------------------------//

Gear in the Machine

Chapter 12
Stormy Weather





Sector 4 – Mechanicus Temple Lambda-9
Testing arena Omega

“Engaging target array. Test pattern 688-2. Field shielding is operational.”

Engines underneath the rockcrete flooring kicked into gear, soon followed by the clanking of moving chains. Ten posts rose from a series of holes cut in the floor, each one made of crude scrap metal salvaged from vehicle wreckage. Scraps of clothing and dented helmets were bolted onto the posts, giving a vague impression that they were meant to proxy Ork warriors.

“Vid-capture active. Subject flag… released. Miss Shrike, you may begin when ready.”


Scarlet Shrike took a deep breath, shifting her legs to a takeoff stance. She could feel a deep soreness in her muscles behind her shoulder blades, where her bones were now melded with rods of heavy durasteel. The metal shells sat on her back, the blade-like impulse crystals packed together and retracted. Between the two bionic wings was a blue cylinder plugged into the center of her back. It was some kind of high-capacity energy cell; a necessary accessory, Gears had assured her, since Scarlet did not possess a micro-reactor and the waste heat dispersal for the wings was simply too intense to risk in-built power supplies.

Her view was half a green-tinged vid display melded with her familiar organic vision. The insertion and neural integration had gone perfectly; her bionic eye shifted and focused as naturally as the organ it had replaced. The coloration was still disconcerting, however, and she had already activated the photon beamer twice by accident.

A surge of current ran up her spine, and her neck tingled as the bionic wings opened and the arclith shard thrusters fanned out and extended. There was no warming of engines or safety check to prepare for operation. There was no idling or standby mode. All she could do was initiate the thrusters very briefly and try to control her landing.

Her vision shifted toward one of the posts to her left, and Scarlet Shrike plotted her attack. It was about ten meters ahead, and she reasoned that if she could direct herself to pass by it closely enough then her wing would cut through it on landing without further attention. Once she was on the ground again, each target could be destroyed with a brief sweep of her wings while they were still venting heat.

“… Miss Shrike? Should I reset the testing parameters?”

Scarlet shook her head to clear it, and then glanced back at the observation balcony. Gear Works was standing before the control cogitator (on top of a crate, as it was of course built for a human’s height), one leg hovering next to an override switch. Lieutenant Dusk Blade was lounging on the deck next to him, lying down with his head sticking through the safety railing.

“No, I’m fine.” Scarlet turned back toward her target, and she set her jaw as her wings spread open further. “Engage!”

The arclith shard thrusters flashed a brilliant red and Scarlet was launched forward like a rocket.

She blasted past her initial target, being far too high in the air to hit it with her wing or anything else. To her credit, Scarlet didn’t scream or otherwise express panic while she fought to control her descent. She did release a distressed neigh when she crashed into a different target post at the far end of the testing arena, though.

Scarlet fell end-over-end after impact, snapping the target post in half and then rolling across the ground. Her wings flailed about, slicing deep, molten scars into the flooring for nearly eight meters until she slid to a stop. Smoke poured from the arclite thruster blades, and a series of brilliant crimson plasma arcs buzzed across the razor-edged tips.

Gear Works groaned. The objective counter on the controls beeped, and a big “1” appeared.

“Pretty impressive,” Dusk offered.

“What, that the sheer velocity enabled her to destroy a target by accident?”

“No, that she didn’t slice off her own leg after crashing. You were really on the ball making sure the wings wouldn’t flex the wrong way.”

Gears tapped the screen. “Miss Shrike, are you injured?”

“N-No! No, I’m fine!” Scarlet jumped up, her wings spreading to her side. They were still glowing a bright red, and occasionally a blast of hot sparks sputtered from the blade tips. “I can continue!”

“You just hammered a metal pole in half with your face,” Dusk Blade pointed out, leaning into toward the vox receiver.

“Yes, I noticed,” Scarlet grumbled, tenderly touching a hoof to her jaw. “Nothing broken! HYAH!!”

Scarlet Shrike bolted into a gallop, her wings dropping flat to either side and spreading out as far as possible. She ran between a pair of posts and they were severed instantly at her passing, throwing half the helmet-topped tubes of metal into the air. The counter on the controls switched to a “3” and the pegasus rounded on another target.

She swung around to again cut at the test target with her wing, and this time the limb jolted while it tore through the post, spraying hot sparks across the floor. She galloped to another, slicing it apart with the other wing, but it suffered even more resistance as the crystal blades cooled.

“I’m going to try another boost!” Scarlet declared, her wings tilting upward. “I’ll try a higher jump arc.”

“Bad idea,” Dusk said immediately.

“Terrible,” Gears agreed. “You shou-“

The boosters fired, and Scarlet Shrike launched high into the air. The arena was very tall to allow for some degree of flight maneuvering, and she had used an even shorter activation cycle this time to cut the total amount of thrust.

Thanks to such caution, when she reached the top of the arena she merely banged her head on the ceiling rather than slamming into it at lethal velocity.

Gears and Dusk winced at the impact, while Scarlet restrained a pained yelp. Then she began her descent, trailing streaks of brilliant red from the blades of her bionic wings. To the spectators’ surprise, the glide down from the ceiling was almost perfectly controlled, and after a steep drop from the peak Scarlet swooped down into a fast but steady landing.

Granted, she landed several feet out of reach of any of the targets, perhaps due to the early impact to her head, but it was a far more graceful failure than either of the stallions were expecting. The pegasus shuddered, shook her head, and then charged forward at the nearest target. She slammed a hoof into it half-way up, and the metal pole almost cracked apart entirely as it bent over from the impact.


“Man… I dunno about her,” Dusk mumbled.

“Hm? What’s wrong?” Gears Works asked while the target counter ticked up again. “She obviously misjudged the power of the arclite thrusters, but that’s to be expected. If anything she’s performed better than I’d anticipated. I’ll have her checked for concussion after she’s cleared the training sequence, she’ll be fine.”

“No, it’s not that.” Dusk frowned, his eyes narrowing. “It’s just… this is the best she can do? This is a Reaver’s fighting ability?”

“Well… hmmm…” Gear Works glanced up at the target counter as it ticked up again, trying to work out how best to phrase his next statement. “It WAS suggested by her former teammates that her combat skills were below unit proficiency. But I don’t know if we should expect a Khorne cultist to bring any great feats of violence against mere test targets. There’s no blood or deep enmity to be had for scrap iron poles.”

“Good point. Okay, let’s kick it up a notch,” Dusk suggested, spreading his wings and lifting up off the ground.

“Huh? Wait, what-“


Scarlet lashed out with her rear legs, breaking off another metal post. The helmet, plates, and other bits of Ork wargear that was charitably referred to as “armor” went flying from the impact, clattering across the deck in a dry, bloodless facsimile of battlefield carnage. The next pole was several meters ahead, and the massive mare sped into a gallop to break it.

As she bore down on the target, she could hear something beating at the air behind her, like a towel or cape whipping against the wind. Scarlet was fully focused on the training exercise, however, so she ignored the noise until it suddenly passed her by. A blue and gray streak zipped ahead and struck the target pole, smashing the helmet off before bouncing up and away from the impact.

Scarlet Shrike recoiled with a slight whinny, sliding to a stop. Dusk somersaulted through the air and then landed in front of her on all fours in a cat-like display of agility. He looked up at her, his neck craning considerably to meet her confused gaze. The bat pony had his mask and optics on, obscuring his face behind a shell of armaplas and gleaming green lights, but otherwise he only wore a light jacket and his amulet.

“Lieutenant? Wh-What are you doing?” Scarlet asked, sounding worried.

“I’m gonna bump up the challenge level a little bit,” Dusk replied, his voice sounding thick and raspy through the mask. “We can see you can smash metal poles apart, great. Let’s see how you handle a moving target.”

Scarlet looked alarmed as the thestral started trotting around her. “What? You mean… you? You’re the target?”

“Yeah. Is that a problem?”

“Uh… Well… not necessarily, but…” Scarlet was glancing back at Gear Works in the control dais anxiously, as if hoping that he would intervene. “Isn’t there some machine that can do it? It’s just that… fighting against friends and allies is always so awkward…” Her ears pinned back, and she winced at her own words.

Dusk stopped. “What do you mean? You don’t do combat sparring for training?”

“I… do, yes. I’m not very good at it, though. I like fighting Orks, but training by fighting my teammates just feels-“ Scarlet’s protest was cut off when a hoof smacked her in the nose, and she flinched.

“Come on mare, quit whimpering and let’s see some of that Khorne rage!” Dusk taunted, darting out of reach.

Scarlet Shrike looked doubtful. “Um… but… what if I hurt you?”

“Are you serious?” Dusk retorted. “Who cares?!”

“You’re friends with Acolyte Gear Works, aren’t you? He cares!” Scarlet protested.

The vox caster crackled briefly. “No I don’t,” Gears corrected before the vox shut off.

Scarlet Shrike looked like she was about to argue the point, but Dusk darted forward and jabbed her lightly in the snout the moment she opened her mouth.

“Come on! What’re you afraid of?” Dusk didn’t even step out of range of counter-attack this time, trotting a circuit around the mare with his wings spread.

“I’m afraid of breaking your spine. I know it sounds strange and a little conceited but I’m very strong and you’re not even wearing combat armor,” the pegasus explained, wrinkling her nose.

A hoof struck her in the rear, and Scarlet yelped and jumped in surprise.

“Moon’s sake, her butt is like a hunk of granite,” Dusk volunteered, giving another experimental kick to the other cheek. “What’s your workout like? I might want-“

Dusk jolted backward just before a hoof the size of his head flew past his nose. Scarlet’s kick displaced a considerable amount of air in its passing, and as he felt the rush of wind through his mane and watched her rear leg slowly pull back, the stallion took a moment to consider whether he would have survived such an impact. Then his lips quirked into a smile under his mask.

“Better,” the thestral said, smoothly stepping out of leg’s reach.

Scarlet turned around slowly, her expression grim. Her bionic eye seemed to be glowing slightly, leaving a neon green trail with her movements, and her jaw was set in a dark frown. It was a stark difference from her earlier mannerisms, if still very restrained for a Khorne cultist. Once she was facing Dusk she started walking forward, her head held high so that she could properly tower over him while she glared.

“You’re going to want to apologize now,” the Reaver said, her tone set to freeze blood.

Dusk felt more than a tinge of fear confronting the massive equine looming in front of him, but he pushed it aside. “Hit me and I will.”

“You don’t want me to do that,” Scarlet replied, snorting angrily.

“That’s why I’ll be dodging, yeah,” Dusk retorted. “Judging by what I’ve seen so far, you won’t be able to touch me.” His wings flapped, lifting him off the floor. “Wanna prove me wrong?”

“Then make peace with whatever useless idols you pray to, Lieutenant,” the pegasus said, her voice a simmering growl. “Khorne will have your skull this day!”


Scarlet bolted forward, her charge considerably more energetic than before. Dusk lifted higher into the air, and then spun into a dodge as a fan of red crystal blades swung at him. He kicked off the wing and then landed off to the side, running a wide circuit around the larger pony.

Scarlet spun around and then charged ahead again, looking as if she intended to simply trample the thestral. Dusk kept racing to the side and then jumped just as the pegasus reached him, avoiding a hoof that would have surely broken something on impact. Dusk spread his wings and kicked with a back leg, landing a solid strike on the side of Scarlet’s head.

The disgraced Reaver shrugged off the impact and chased after him, her hooves thundering against the flooring. Dusk flew higher as he led her around the training field, keeping an altitude just a few feet over her head. She sped up into a sprint and extended a wing to slash it at him, but Dusk twisted into a dodge and then kicked off the flat edge of the crystal shards. Without the excessive heat bleed of a recent thrust cycle they made for a very clumsy weapon, albeit they were still heavy and sharp enough that he couldn’t afford a direct hit.

While Scarlet was surely a mortal threat to anything closer to the ground than she was, equine physiology meant it was harder for her to attack enemies above her. Back when she had her organic wings this was surely less of issue, but at present she was at a disadvantage against any opponent who could fly. Dusk circled around the massive pegasus in the air, constantly staying just far enough away to let him react when she jumped or tried to swipe with her wings. After the third such attack was tried and kicked away fruitlessly, the bat pony clicked his tongue in disappointment.

“C’mon now, is this really all you’ve got?” the stallion taunted, swooping down and jabbing Scarlet directly in the nose.

She released an infuriated growl and reared up, but Dusk simply flew higher to stay out of reach of the flailing hooves and gnashing teeth. “I get that you’ve been maimed and all but I don’t know how you’re gonna talk the psychopaths into letting you join up again if your Khornate rage can’t even get you a single hit on me.“

“Get down here and say that again!” Scarlet snarled.

“Really? You want me to give you a handicap? Are you going to go to war and ask the Orks to go easy on you before the battle?” Dusk did an aerial backflip as the crystal blades of Scarlet’s wings cut under him. “I guess it could actually work; Orks are just that dumb and they actually like a challenge. But I don’t think it will convince your Reaver buddies to take you back.“

“Stop squealing and fight me!” Scarlet shouted, leaping in Dusk’s direction.

The thestral bounced up in the air, and then bobbed back down behind the angry pegasus. “Hey, is that little blue cell in your back volatile? Like, if I cut it open would it explode or power you down or just-“

“SHUT!! UP!!” Scarlet barked, her wings snapping back and pulsing with energy.

Dusk desperately sped up to try and get clear, but it wasn’t quite enough. Scarlet Shrike rocketed into the air, bashing her head into his leg and sending the bat pony into a wild spin. As she flew past a stream of searing hot air swallowed him, and he gave up trying to maintain his flight.

Dusk’s wings wrapped around himself and he curled into a spin. He hit the ground and rolled with it as best he could, and then opened his wings again to push back upright as soon as he slowed down. Steam was rising from his body; he felt like his skin was burning under his coat and his leg throbbed like it had been struck by a crowbar (a sensation he was unfortunately familiar with).

Scarlet kept flying upward, and then shifted her wings sharply to spin around and face backward as she neared the ceiling. “Blood for the Blood God,” she hissed, tilting them back down.

Then she activated the impulse cycle again, rocketing back down.

Dusk’s eyes bulged in shock as the pegasus turned into a bright red comet, and he missed any possible window for reaction.

Scarlet hit the floor, and the flooring plates surrounding the impact immediately buckled  under her before the mare was obscured by a shock wave of debris and hot dust. A pair of practice targets near the landing zone were ripped apart by the force and turned into steaming shrapnel, striking the shielding wall and leaving a series of black scars along the metal barrier. Discarded helmets and sandbags from barricade obstacles were blown across the testing field, landing in shredded heaps or bouncing along until they struck something else.

The heated air swirled around the impact crater for some twenty seconds before it started to disperse. Wings of blazing red extended above the cloud as it parted, and then the glare of Scarlet’s bionic eye pierced the shroud.

“All right, we have some good data. Thank you, Miss Shrike. Testing pattern concluded,” Gear Works announced through the vox.

Scarlet stared straight forward through the smoke of her impact crater, her expression inscrutable and unblinking. Then she looked up, utterly confused. “What? What’s happening now?”

“The test is complete. You didn’t destroy all the practice targets, but that’s fine. After that diving technique I really need to run a medical diagnostic and ensure your stabilizers are still intact,” Gear Works explained further. “Disengaging practice field shielding. You may exit the test area when ready, Miss Shrike.”

Scarlet Shrike blinked several times while the shield barricades slowly descended back into the flooring and ceiling. Her ears flipped down, and then she looked up at the spectator balcony.

“I, uh… I think I just killed your friend,” Scarlet admitted, her facing paling somewhat as the full ramifications of her battle-frenzy started settling in on her.

“No you didn’t,” Gears replied, already tapping away at the holo-screen and sorting through the collected data.

“He… wasn’t your friend?” Scarlet guessed, arching an eyebrow.

“Of course I’m his friend,” Dusk said, walking past Scarlet Shrike with a slight limp. “You missed.”

Scarlet recoiled, almost tripping over herself. “What?! How?! How did you dodge something like that?!” she demanded.

“I didn’t dodge it. You were like twenty feet off-target. Still felt it, though,” Dusk replied. Then he hesitated and looked back. “Also you DID hit me on the way up, so I’m sorry about the sexual harassment.”

Scarlet gaped for a few seconds, and then turned around to look at the testing field, utterly flabbergasted. Dusk Blade continued walking to the observation balcony, and then lifted off from the floor to join Gear Works.

“So how’s it look? That last move whiffed but it looked pretty impressive, I’ll bet.”

“It was, yes. Here, I’ll run the replay.”

Dusk whistled as a hololith projection appeared, tracking Scarlet’s ascent. “Yeah! Yeah, this is almost perfect!  Can you edit this zoom? So that you can’t see I’m gawking at her just behind the impact zone.”

“Should I also cut out all the parts where she’s swinging at you uselessly?”

“No, I think those parts are necessary. The build-up to the big attack looks good!” Dusk looked back over his shoulder. “Hey, you coming? The test’s over.”

“I… Uh… Yes, okay,” Scarlet Shrike hesitantly approached the balcony, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “I’m a bit confused as to what you’re doing right now.”

“We’re trying to get some cool vid of you trying to murder me to show your Reaver boss and impress them,” Dusk explained.

“But… I missed. I barely even touched you,” Scarlet pointed out, looking somewhat ashamed of the fact.

“Yes, hence the editing, to obscure that,” Dusk explained in a condescending tone. “Don’t worry, Reavers are dumb as bricks. The boss won’t suspect a thing.”

“Present company excluded!” Gears quickly added.

“No it isn’t,” Dusk said, reaching into the hololith with the tip of his wing. “Can you add some fire here? It would look cooler if there was fire.”

Scarlet sighed and sat down, her wings folding up into their case sheathing. Gears paused in rotating the hololith to give Dusk Blade a better look, and then started descending the stairs to the testing floor.

“Miss Shrike, are you well? That was quite an impact you caused, and you have no equipment to facilitate it other than sheer body mass,” the tech-cultist pointed out.

“I’m okay. The impact was pretty hard on my knees, actually, but my pride hurts worse than my legs.” She looked into the arc of gloomy aqua-colored lights under Gear’s hood. “Do you think I did well?”

“Negative,” Gears replied bluntly. Scarlet winced, and he continued. “Putting aside your specific performance against Lieutenant Blade – my understanding is that he’s an unusually capable fighter anyway – you were unable to complete the standard exercise and attack all test targets within the maximum allowed time.”

“B-But… the Lieutenant! He challenged me in the middle of the exercise!” Scarlet complained. “How was I supposed to continue with him badgering me?”

Gear’s sensor lights blinked. “It is fairly common during deployments for enemies to try to divert you from your mission task. If I recall correctly, this was one of the specific complaints Sergeant Folgore mentioned when criticizing your combat history.”

Scarlet winced harder. “I thought the exercise parameters had changed! Wasn’t I supposed to defeat him instead?”

“I suppose that’s a reasonable assumption, and would likewise be a worthwhile training effort. But you didn’t really accomplish that, either.”

Scarlet Shrike hung her head and Dusk Blade snickered into a hoof.

“Okay, look: you can always just restart the training exercise and smash some more immobile poles. That’s the point of these tedious, standardized training routines,” Dusk pointed out. “The IMPORTANT thing is that I got you a little steamed and you invented a cool special attack to use! This footage is great! Edit this down, show it to Sergeant Psycho, and change the subject if anypony asks what happened to me. You’re golden!”

“Do you really think it will be that easy?” Gear Works asked.

“Yeah! If she can bring that kind of power against some obnoxious stallion, just think of what she’ll do to the Orks!” Dusk flew up above Scarlet and held up a hoof for her to clap. “You’re going to tear the greenskins to pieces, babe!”

The pegasus looked up at him uncertainly, and then looked away. “I’m not feeling very confident of that right now.”

“Well if you can’t dig up any confidence OR inchoate fury on command then I’m really at a loss for what you’re getting out of this souls-for-Chaos deal you’ve got going on here,” Dusk said, lowering his hoof. “If you want to give up, nopony’s going to stop you. But if you want to try to trick your teammates into thinking you’re a good fighter then we’ve got your back. What’s it going to be?”

Scarlet Shrike set her jaw and lifted her head. “That’s not good enough! I’ll get better, and then I’ll prove to the Sergeant that I won’t hold them back! Even if it takes months! Or years!” She unfolded her bionic wings and snorted. “I’m done being a burden to everypony else, scraping by on cheap promises and hollow sympathy! I’ll become a worthy warrior of Khorne or perish in the attempt!”

Dusk and Gears blinked in surprise. Then Dusk smiled slightly. “Well, if that’s how it’s going to be, I’m going to have to bow out of being your sparring partner. I don’t think I’ll survive if your aim improves.”

“That’s quite alright, Lieutenant!” Scarlet Shrike said, beaming. “I really didn’t want to fight you anyway! I mentioned that, right? It was very annoying!” Then she turned around to face Gear Works. “Dark Acolyte, please reset the training field! After that, you may depart to your official duties. I’ll take it from here!”

While Dusk smiled back at her, pleased with her enthusiasm, Gear Works hesitated. “You said… months? You’re planning a long-term training regime to fulfill your personal goal of rejoining the Rozen Wings?”

“That’s right! Trying to trick the Sergeant into thinking I’ve improved is hopeless when I can barely control my bionics,” the enormous mare said, her raven mane swishing back and forth as she shook her head. “If I can’t stand on my own as a Reaver I’m just going to get left behind again and again in battle and I’ll end up right back where I started! As long as I have these bionics and can stay here in Ferrous Dominus I can take my time and become a worthy servant of the Blood God!”

Scarlet seemed quite optimistic about this plan, and Gear Works couldn’t help but cringe a little as he replied. “And what if you… couldn’t stay in Ferrous Dominus?”

“That would be crushing, obviously. There’s no place else in the world I could train, worship, and have a constant flow of opponents. And who knows how long these wings would last without the facilities here to maintain them, too. I would be absolutely miserable.” Scarlet paused, her brow furrowing. “Why do you ask?”

“I suppose, given your general attitude and outlook, you have not reviewed your residency status as of eighteen hundred hours yesterday?”

Scarlet could feel her heartbeat getting faster, and a feeling of dread that she hadn’t felt since her blood trial started creeping down her spine. “Wh-What happened? Please, tell me!”

A long sucking sound came from Gear’s respirator mask as he prepared himself, although he resisted the urge to step back out of lunging range. “As of the previously mentioned time, a discharge and removal order submitted by Sergeant Folgore was approved. I registered my objections to the order, but was unfortunately dismissed. You have been given 200 hours to leave Ferrous Dominus before your access credentials are nullified and you are ejected by force.”

Scarlet’s jaw felt slack and her ears pinned back against her head. Dusk slapped a hoof against his face.

“What?! But… But you said he couldn’t do that!” she protested, horrified.

“Yes, it is against standard protocol. That was the premise of my objection. I regret to inform you that did not carry nearly as much weight as I believe it should.”

Scarlet slumped into a seated position, stunned. “This can’t be… I already got so far.”

“I really must apologize. I assumed you were aware of your change in status and imminent discharge until you spoke of an extended training regimen,” Gear Works said, hanging his head. “With the discharge order in place I am afraid there is nothing more I can do.”

“Then… it’s over? In ten days I’m going to get kicked out of the city?” Scarlet whimpered.

“It’s a little over eight days, actually,” Dusk corrected.

“It was as of approval. It’s now more like seven-point-four-one days,” Gears corrected again.

Scarlet Shrike released a strangled groan and her wings closed up. “This can’t be happening! It just isn’t fair! He’s going to get me thrown out of the city?! Isn’t that going too far?!”

“I agree; I find it perplexing that he’s taken the additional steps to have you exiled from the city even after dropping you from his unit.” Gears paused, weighing internally whether he should ask the next question. “Do you… have any idea why that may be, Miss Shrike? He seems to bear some sort of grudge against you. A grudge that doesn’t manifest in simple, open violence, either, which is… fortunate, but even more bizarre.”

Scarlet Shrike flinched, turning away. The light in her bionic eye dimmed somewhat. “I… I don’t. It doesn’t really matter at this point, does it? It’s over. He’s won.”

“Well, yeah, if you’re just going to roll over for him,” Dusk said with a snort. “Are you really going to let him get away with kicking you out the city?”

The massive pegasus hung her head, exasperated. “I can’t defy Sergeant Folgore! You don’t understand!”

“That’s probably why he doesn’t respect you enough to keep you around even as a trainee or reserve fighter,” Dusk retorted. “Look, like I said before: if you want to give up, none of us can make you fight for your place here. But if you want to stay as badly as you say you do, then do something about it!”

“You mean the idea you had before? Showing him an edited training vid?” Scarlet looked doubtful. “Do you really think that would work?”

“Actually, since this particular pegasus is being a key impediment I was going to suggest just taking him out,” Dusk admitted, “but I guess we can give plan B a shot first, sure.”

Scarlet’s face visibly paled. “Take him out?! Sergeant Folgore?! Y-You can’t.. The v-very idea… I c-couldn’t… NO!”

“Have I mentioned that your reluctance to use violence to achieve things probably harms your prospects as a soldier of the Blood God? I don’t know if I brought it up but it’s very important,” Dusk replied. “Like, it’s fine if you don’t WANT to hurt your friends to get what you want, but you should at least be open to it as a matter of strategy.”

The pegasus looked almost panicked, but Gear Works interjected, “I can make the modifications you described, although I share Miss Shrike’s skepticism about this plan.” Another holo-screen opened in front of him. “The odds of success are surely better than that of assassination, at least. Sergeant Folgore has the second-best combat record of any equine in the fleet, only surpassed by Princess Luna herself.”

“Yeah, sure. Good for him,” Dusk scoffed. “We’ve seen what Shrike’s capable of. If she weren’t afraid of fighting him they’d be scraping his feathers off the walls.”

The thestral had intended to goad her with the comment by implying she was afraid, but Scarlet offered no protest and just cringed. Gear Works shook his head and continued tapping away at the holo-screen with a hoof and his servo arm while a few other screens opened up.

“If we cannot convince the Sergeant to restore Miss Shrike’s rank and station, perhaps we might at least appeal his discharge order,” Gears mused, “or at least learn WHY he’s so insistent that Miss Shrike be ejected from service. I find this mystery quite frustrating.” After a few more seconds the holo-screens suddenly closed, and a wheel icon appeared on the nearby console. “There.” He withdrew a dataslate from the bottom compartment of the console and connected it to the machine’s data port. “Miss Shrike, unless you have some other affair to tend to or wish to complete another training circuit, I recommend we confront the Sergeant immediately.”

“You… You’re going to… come with me?” Scarlet asked, perplexed. “You know it’s dangerous to confront Sergeant Folgore, right? I can’t ask you to accompany me. This isn’t your problem anymore.”

“Strictly speaking it was not my problem once you were recovered from the battlefield and stabilized, Miss Shrike. However I really feel it’s necessary that you have assistance making your case to the Sergeant. I suppose Lieutenant Blade could go, but he’s quite likely to kill somepony for no reason.”

“What do you mean ‘no reason?’ I already came up with a reason!”

“This is precisely what I’m talking about, Lieutenant.”

Scarlet sniffled, instantly catching the stallions’ attention. She slowly stood up again, blinking as a single tear crawled down her cheek under her remaining organic eye.

“I’m… I’m so glad to have your help. I don’t know if it will work, but… but thank you. Thank you for doing this.” She sniffled again, raising one of her huge, muscular legs to wipe it away. Her expression was pitiful, but she steeled herself as best she could before offering a quivering smile to the ponies craning their necks up to maintain eye contact. “I’m not sure I deserve this kind of favor-“

“You don’t,” Dusk Blade reassured her immediately.

“… Right. Of course.” Scarlet cleared her throat and then continued, her tone somewhat less sentimental now, “But if you’re willing to confront Sergeant Folgore, then what excuse do I have? I’ll do it!”

“So just to be clear: assassination is COMPLETELY off the table? Even if this other thing fails?” Dusk asked.

“Yes! Nobody is killing Sergeant Folgore!” Scarlet snapped, a small spark of genuine heat entering her voice. Gear Works recoiled, and Dusk’s wings snapped open on reflex, preparing him to evade. The Reaver took a deep, calming breath, and her demeanor quickly reverted back to normal. “I realize that my behavior is unorthodox for a Khorne cultist, but I don’t want to hurt my friends, even to my own benefit.”

“Yeah, okay, fine. Have it your way,” Dusk scoffed, carefully folding his wings again. “I was just trying to help.”

“Why would you do that?” Gear Works asked suspiciously.

“And why does your idea of ‘helping’ involve killing my superiors?” Scarlet asked uneasily.

“There aren’t really a lot of other kinds of help I can give,” Dusk confessed. “Unless you need something stolen. Would that help? If I stole his amulet could we use it to trick the cogitators into thinking we’re him and get the order reversed?”

“No,” Gears replied flatly.

“Is he always like this?” Scarlet asked.

“He doesn’t always brainstorm strategies with the rest of us before he starts killing things, no.”

“All right, all right, I get it,” the thestral backed away, holding up a wing in a gesture of surrender. “You guys do what you need to do. No skin off my wings.” Dusk turned around and trotted to the exit. “I’m gonna go hit the patrol circuit. Let me know if everything turns out all right!”


Gear Works watched him leave, his sensor lights narrowing suspiciously. Once the door closed, he turned his head back toward Scarlet Shrike.

“Should we go now? According the noosphere registry Sergeant Folgore is currently in his quarters. I would imagine he’s not very… agreeable when he’s been woken up, so I would recommend speaking with him before he retires for the evening.” Gears explained.

“Of course, Acolyte,” Scarlet nodded her head, her voice admirably free of the dread she felt in her gut. “Please, let me show you the way.”





Ferrous Dominus
Sector 18
Residential complex G-6

“You seem nervous, Miss Shrike.”

“I do? Well… I am. Very nervous. And why shouldn’t I be? The last time we spoke Sergeant Folgore suspended me and declared I wasn’t allowed to live here anymore! What if he expected me to be gone by now? Will he be mad?”

“I… I don’t know. What would he do if he were to see you and become enraged at your presence? Attack? Do you think you may be in danger?”

“I… No. No, I’m not. Keep it together, Shrike. Head up, eyes forward. If I can face down a five-ton rock construct wreathed in lighting I can manage a tense meeting with my… my former squad commander!”

“… Are you sure about that?”

“Not even a little bit. But I can lie to myself and I can keep walking forward, and that will have to be enough.”


Gear Works and Scarlet Shrike trotted down the residency hall at a slightly subdued pace, the larger pony following behind. This particular section was devoted to Khorne cultists, and the décor reflected the fact. Ork skulls were prominent, hammered onto iron stakes in the wall or strung from chains hanging from the ceiling. Crude, damaged melee weapons were on display from hunting or gladiator bouts, bolted to the walls next to doors. Surprisingly the hall floors were mostly clean; apparently the maintenance cycles were carried out with strict efficiency to keep the public area free of blood and other detritus from the many battle trophies being strung up.

It was easy to tell which rooms belonged to ponies and which housed human cultists, since the larger and more experienced Chaos troops had larger skull trophies around their doors. They were also inevitably ground-based creatures, primarily Orks and Kroot. The ponies – who were almost all pegasi – had a few Ork and griffon skulls pinned up but otherwise featured the largest bird skulls they could attach to a chain without feeling embarrassed. The pony doors also tended to feature iconography that was more colorful and varied than the Mark of Khorne, with many featuring cutie marks, squad badges, and one with birthday balloons and celebratory cards taped to it that was frankly spoiling the entire theme.

Gear Works identified Folgore’s room ahead, and then he stopped. “We’re here, Miss Shrike. If your nerve has failed you, now is the time to abandon this approach. Otherwise: steel yourself.”

The enormous pegasus pursed her lips, her bionic eye gently pulsing. “Actually… I have a request, Acolyte. Do you still have my eye patch?”

“I do. Why? Do you want it back?”

“Y-Yes. Please.” Scarlet sat on her haunches as Gears withdrew the patch from his robes, and she took it in her hooves. “Not that your work on my eye isn’t exceptional, but it DOES looks slightly… uncanny, I think is the word. I’d prefer to face him with this.”

Gears waited patiently while she strapped the eye patch over her head, covering the pulsing green light in her left eye socket with a black flap bearing the Mark of Khorne. Then she took a deep breath and ran a hoof across her long black hair. “Is my mane okay?”

“… Pardon?” Gears asked.

“I was training before, and I didn’t wash,” she began to fret, her eye glancing about nervously. “It isn’t all dirty, is it? That move where I flew down to try to squash Lieutenant Blade kicked up an awful lot of debris…”

“Miss Shrike, your mane is fine. And if it weren’t fine, I don’t think it would bear notice when you’ve had fusion-powered bionic wings installed.” Gears tilted his head to the side.

“You’re right, of course. I just can’t help fretting,” Scarlet sighed. “Please, go ahead.”


Gears looked hesitant, like he wanted to ask something else. But eventually he turned around again and glanced at the door panel. An access lumen started blinking, followed by the muffled sound of a buzzer going off on the other side. Scarlet flinched and her ears pinned back.

It was a matter of seconds until the door slid open and Gear Works found himself staring at Sergeant Folgore’s stony frown. The pegasus looked to be in a state of mild disarray, with his mane askew and his coat damp and frayed, like he had just come from a difficult training session. His eyes shifted upward, glancing at the mare towering over Gear Works from behind, but they settled back onto the Acolyte’s optic lights without the slightest change in expression.

“Greetings, Sergeant. I apologize for any interruption, but-“

“Apology accepted,” Folgore interrupted, slightly startling the robed stallion. His tone managed to convey that he was deeply unhappy about this meeting but was tolerating it out of professional obligation, which Gears very much appreciated.

Scarlet made a slight yelp, having an excellent view over the stallions’ heads directly into the room behind Folgore. Stormy Ruin lay in a tangle of blankets, tenderly preening her wings. Her coat and feathers were not as messy as Folgore’s was, but it was not hard to tell what the two pegasi had been doing before she and Gears arrived. The feeling of dread Scarlet had been feeling intensified, mixing with numerous other difficult emotions that tangled around her heart.

“Right. Well then, I’ll get right to the point,” Gear Works continued. “As you’ve probably noticed, Miss Shrike’s debilitating injuries from her last combat deployment have been addressed. The new bionics have been tested, and I have compiled some materials for you to review.” His servo arm nudged forward, holding the dataslate.

Folgore looked up at it, and then back to Gear Works. “Why would I do that?”

“I believe the bionics address some previous shortcomings in Miss Shrike’s combat performance, and render her fit for regular combat duty. I implore you to study the training data and reconsider your suspension and eviction order,” Gears said, bowing his head. “I understand that her posting here in Ferrous Dominus is extremely important to her, a matter that I am sympathetic to. It is unnecessary to remove her entirely from Company service.”

Folgore stared at the other stallion expressionlessly, then lifted his bionic hoof face-up to take the dataslate. Gear Works interpreted this as a good sign and placed the device on his hoof. Folgore promptly smashed the dataslate into the door frame, breaking it into pieces. Gears hastily revised his earlier judgment and his ears flipped down.

“Acolyte, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea here,” Folgore said calmly, using a wing to brush the stray plastic shards off of his bionic. “I have great respect for you and what you do. I’m obviously no stranger to the miracles of the Dark Mechanicus.” A blade suddenly emerged from the center of the hoof, accompanied by the sound of steel sliding against steel, and Gears jumped in fright. “Although I feel your efforts here were in vain, I appreciate you taking your time and resources to aid Shrike. It puts me at ease that she has allies who are not so…” he started moving the bionic-mounted blade in a circle, gesturing uncertainly while he fished for the right word. “… demanding as those of us in the Blood Cult are.”

Gear Works gulped, and Folgore let the blade withdraw back into his hoof. “However, as you know Shrike well enough to intervene on her behalf, surely you understand WHY we judge her to be unworthy.” He looked up at the enormous red pegasus, meeting her eye as he continued. “Your steel can replace her flesh, but it cannot harden her heart or temper her will. She is weak in mind and spirit, no matter how formidable her raw strength.”

“I think you underestimate her,” Gears replied.

Folgore’s attention snapped back to the tech-cultist, and Gears flinched at the anger in his eyes at being contradicted. “Even now she hides behind you while you make her case for her,” he spat, his lip starting to curl upward to reveal his razor-edged teeth. “She meekly accepts failure time and time again while the enemy wears down her body and her begging wears down my patience. Scarlet Shrike is not good enough to fly with the Rozen Wings.”

A quiver ran down Scarlet’s spine, but she forced the words out anyway. “Maybe you’re right, but I want to try.” She gulped as the smaller pegasus looked up at her again, his golden irises boring into her. “I want to serve Lord Khorne. I want to help the 38th Company. And I want to protect Equestria. If… If I can do that by your side, I want to. If I can’t, then I’ll do it in some other unit and you never have to see me again. Please, Sergeant. Don’t exile me. My future is here, where I can wage war against the enemies of harmony in the name of Khorne.”

For the first time, Gears saw something akin to uncertainty flicker in Folgore’s expression. It lasted for the blink of an eye, replaced immediately with smoldering contempt. He again settled on facing Gear Works, probably to save himself the strain of staring upward.

“No. Shrike is no longer needed here. To the extent she still serves the Blood God and the greater fight against the Orks, she can do so as a border guard or something. Are we done here?”

Scarlet hung her head sadly, utterly defeated. Gear Works looked over at her, and then back to Folgore.

“You are not authorized to void Miss Shrike’s residency or her service under the 38th Company,” Gears declared.

“So you’ve said. I found the men in charge of things like rank filings and access registers far more flexible,” the other stallion retorted.

“So I was correct. You contravened operational protocol to have Miss Shrike thrown out of the city,” Gears narrowed his optical lights. “Why?”

Folgore didn’t answer right away, staring at the other stallion curiously. “I was not aware that I answered to the lower rungs of the Technology cult. When was this new rule established?”

“Acolyte, let’s go,” Scarlet said nervously, taking a step back. “I’ll be okay. There’s no point in aggravating him.”

“I am not seeking to challenge you, Sergeant,” Gears assured him. “You have gotten your way and I cannot reverse that decision. But I am puzzled by your conduct and want to know why you insist upon Miss Shrike leaving Ferrous Dominus entirely. It makes no sense to me.”

The Reaver Sergeant grimaced slightly, which frankly confused Gear Works even more. The subject didn’t seem to move him to anger, so what was the matter? Scarlet Shrike seemed even more anxious, constantly glancing at something behind Folgore and then turning her head away. Gears was starting to get annoyed himself, although the heightened awareness that the ponies in front and behind him could easily break him in two tempered his own attitude.

“I’ve said enough. If Shrike hasn’t told you, then there’s no reason for me to do so. She’s endured enough humiliation,” Folgore said.

“What? What does that mean? Why would she know?” Gears asked.

“Good night, Acolyte. Farewell, Shrike. May the Dark Gods watch over you both and grant you fortune and victory.” The Reaver Sergeant bowed his head and then stepped back into his room. Seconds later the door slid shut, and a lumen on the side blinked on to show that it was locked.


Folgore sighed deeply once he was inside his room again, feeling a familiar weight on his heart that seemed to settle over his smoldering fury like a damp blanket. Scarlet’s expression – pleading, helpless, and despondent – was burned into his mind. It was surely not the impression she’d hoped to leave after having her wings rebuilt and making a bid to return to her old unit, but that was simply her nature. It hurt him to see her like that, and to know that he had caused that pain.

He looked up and saw Stormy Ruin staring at him impatiently. She was still lying on her side where he had left her. Stormy had surely heard the entire confrontation, but didn’t seem the least bit interested in bringing it up; her tail lashed back and forth across the floor, aggressively drawing the eye toward her rear.

Folgore walked up to the mare and leaned down, kissing her tenderly on the nose. “I’m going to go wash up.” Then he continued on to the washroom, tapping his hoof on the door access pedal near the floor.

Stormy cast him an annoyed look as he left her behind, but then glanced toward the entrance.

Her eyes narrowed.





Ferrous Dominus
Sector 18
Residential yard G

Gear Works and Scarlet Shrike walked in silence, exiting the halls into a larger yard area with metal benching and an armorglass skylight above. The window did practically nothing, as the pollution masked any natural sunlight and the dozens of lumens placed in the building provided plenty of illumination. Mostly the areas were used as gathering points and exercise yards, as the claustrophobic nature of the residential rooms and the autoturrets placed in the building lobby discouraged people from meeting there.

This particular space was decorated with murals and ironwork sculptures incorporating weaponry, skulls, and the Mark of Khorne into their design. The Chaos cults had taken to the beautification campaign for Ferrous Dominus with surprising enthusiasm, even if most of their efforts were crude or downright appalling. Like in the hallway, skulls were hung from chains and capped the points of spears and glaives driven into the flooring, but in addition there were more complex craftings with more conventional materials. In particular there was a huge mural in one corner that featured a lone white pegasus caked in blood and thrashing a mob of Orks surrounding her. It was Scarlet’s favorite painting and she usually felt her heart lift every time she saw it, but on this occasion the sight just made the throbbing pain in her heart a little bit sharper.

“Acolyte… I… uh… I want to thank you again,” Scarlet Shrike said, trying to push through everything else that was happening. Her remaining eye was a little blurry from the tears, but she possessed enough fortitude to bury her immediate feelings and express her appreciation. “You didn’t have to do… any of this. There’s nothing I can really do for you in return. And I feel like your efforts were wasted now. So… thank you. Thank you so much.”

Gear Works stopped ahead of her, grasping for something to say. He was, naturally, much less invested in this endeavor, but he found their apparent failure scathing as well. In his opinion Scarlet’s bionic wings were a travesty; a trite mockery of the Warsmith’s miraculous devices that Scarlet had managed to turn into a useful weapon through stubborn resourcefulness. But if he had made an optimized bionic, would it have mattered? Was there any result, any approach that would have been satisfactory to Sergeant Folgore?

“… In my limited analysis, you are an enigma, Miss Shrike,” Gears said after several seconds of silence. “You are not a very mysterious pony, but rather a creature of inexplicable contrasts. A pegasus of incredible strength and middling fighting skill. A grateful servant of the Blood God with an extraordinarily cool temper and beneficent heart. A soldier who obeys orders and deeply desires war yet finds herself facing suspension.”

Scarlet tilted her head to the side, blinking as Gears continued. “I feel like there is some piece missing from each of these contrasts that escapes me, but I am simply not capable enough to find or correct them.”

“No, that’s… You did your best! And it was good work!” Scarlet insisted.

“But it was not good enough,” Gears said, his strange, mask-distorted voice nearing a growl. “My previous endeavors under the Dark Mechanicus, flawed as they were, have ultimately succeeded in their immediate goals. Your gratitude is appreciated, but I’m not convinced I have made the slightest difference in the outcome. You would have been better off without those things on your back.”

“I know that feeling all too well,” Scarlet sighed, hanging her head. “Sometimes we just… we do what we can, and we put everything we have into something we love and need, and… and it just doesn’t work. It hurts, but it’s true.” She looked back over to the mural. “I’m going to miss this place a lot. The thrill of the battle. The wonderful, tender touches. The celebration after a successful slaughter. But I’m still alive. I still have a future, I still have those treasured memories, and no one here can take those away from me.”

“Actually there is a process called mind-scrubbing that CAN take your memories away but I’d like to back up a little first: wonderful, tender touches?” Gears asked, turning to face the pegasus.

Scarlet jolted in surprise, and a few droplets of sweat appeared as she stuttered. “I m-mean, uh, I was t-talking about… Khorne! Yes! The loving, passionate embrace of… the Blood God!”

“… Is that what it’s like?” Gears asked, skeptical. Scarlet smiled nervously.

“Good grief, are you losers STILL here?”


They both recognized the voice immediately. Gears jumped in fright, instantly on edge. Scarlet simply turned her head to address the interruption.

Stormy Ruin walked into the yard with her head lowered, looking every bit the image of a large predator cat advancing on a victim. Her expression was hard to interpret, exactly, but Gear Works was extremely discouraged to find that her eyes were fixed on him and not the other mare.

“We’re done here, Stormy,” Scarlet announced, disappointed. “You won’t have to see me again.”

Stormy Ruin only briefly glanced up at her, still stalking forward toward the two ponies. “Yeah, fine. Then turn on those ridiculous mecha wings of yours and fly out of here. I’m here for the nerd.”

“Wh-What? Why?!” Gears yelped. Scarlet frowned.

“I don’t really share the Sergeant’s professional respect for you little lab rats and lens-polishers,” Stormy admitted, changing direction to walk a circuit around the other two ponies. “ESPECIALLY when you start poking around in other ponies’ business and interrupting my special private time with Sergeant Folgore.”

“I apologize for the interruption! I didn’t know you were in there!” Gear Works yelped.

“Making excuses now, are you?” Stormy’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Stormy,” Scarlet interjected, her voice sad but firm. “You have no quarrel with the Dark Acolyte. Leave him alone.”

“Oh?” the smaller mare swung her head around toward Scarlet, her exquisite, chocolate curls bouncing at the motion. “Do I have a quarrel with YOU, now? What’s wrong, Scarlet? Any problems you’d like to share with the rest of the class?”

Scarlet’s ears flipped down and she looked away.

This response, unsurprisingly, seem to aggravate the Reaver even more. “UGH!! You always do this! You always back down at the slightest challenge! Why don’t you stand up for yourself for once?!”

“Because there’s no point. It’s over. I have to leave. You win,” Scarlet said morosely. “But let the Dark Acolyte be. He’s done nothing wrong.”

“He’s poking his stupid cyber-nose where it doesn’t belong!” Stormy seethed.

“He helped me make my case to stay here in Ferrous Dominus. It didn’t work. We’re leaving. There’s no reason to fight now, is there?” Scarlet reasoned, lifting her head up to loom over the smaller mare.

Her tone was firm but cool now, and she sounded every bit like a mother chiding her upset daughter. Gears expected that to just make Stormy angrier, but the beautiful Reaver actually seemed to be calming down, somehow. It was less that she was accepting Scarlet’s argument and more that her earlier mood was simply being smothered beneath the larger mare’s firm benevolence. Gear Works had never seen this phenomenon before, but judging from their mannerisms – and the way Scarlet had described their relationship before – he guessed this happened all the time when the two had fought in the same squad.

“What do you mean ‘you win?’” Gears asked, looking up at Scarlet. “What did she win?”

In retrospect, that query was a bit too intrusive given the circumstances.


Stormy launched herself off the ground, crossing the 8 feet between her and Gears in an eye blink. Her hoof crashed into the side of his head with a burst of sparks and blood, and the tech-cultist was knocked clean off his hooves. He landed on his bionic shoulder and skidded across the floor, soon slamming into a nearby metal bench. The sound of creaking metal accompanied the impact, and a few small parts came loose and bounced across the plaza floor.

Scarlet’s jaw dropped open in shock. “STORMY!!”

“What did I say about sticking your nose where it didn’t belong?” Stormy Ruin landed lightly on her hooves and then lifted a hoof to brush at her hair. “He should have left when he had the chance. Or just not bothered to get involved.” She sneered over at the other mare. “I mean, really, what did he think was going to happen? You were never going to succeed, even with a new collection of metal junk hammered into you. Complete waste of blood and effort.”

Scarlet rushed in front of Stormy, sliding to a stop between her and Gear Works. “You stop that THIS INSTANT!”

“Yeah, okay. I’m done,” Stormy scoffed and turned her head. “If he survived I don’t think it would be much fun to harvest whatever bits of scrap metal make up his skull, so whatever.” She started to turn around.

“STORMY!! What the hay is wrong with you?!” Scarlet demanded, a ghastly green light bleeding from the edges of her eyepatch. “You couldn’t just let me leave in peace?! Why would you follow us just to hurt him?!”

The smaller pegasus was starting to turn around, but she stopped and quirked an eyebrow. “Because I felt like it, obviously. Why? Does it make you mad? Are you going to do anything about it?”

Scarlet quivered slightly, clenching her jaw. She didn’t attack though, nor was there any greater indication of rising fury. “I don’t hurt my friends,” she said firmly.

“Of course not,” Stormy snorted, turning away, “you barely have the gall to raise your voice. And you want to defend the world! Go home, you useless lump of muscle.”

Stormy took precisely two steps before a tiny piece of chain link bounced off her head. It was not thrown with great force, although the impact certainly hurt, and she immediately started to whirl around to retaliate against Scarlet. Then she hesitated, her warrior’s instincts warning her against it. The angle of impact was too steep to have come from Scarlet Shrike, who hadn’t budged from her position guarding Gears.

She twisted her head the other way and looked up right before a dark streak slammed into her.


Scarlet’s eye bulged in surprise as Dusk Blade kicked off of Stormy’s wing, throwing her off her hooves in much the same way she had done to Gears. Unlike the hapless Acolyte, she adjusted immediately, lifting her uninjured wing and shifting her hooves to recenter her stance. She skidded across the floor plating and pivoted on one leg, turning just enough to face the newcomer when she stopped.

“… Huh. A bat. Don’t get a lot of you vermin around this part of the fortress,” Stormy remarked. Her voice was much calmer and more casual than before, which Scarlet immediately recognized as a sign of inchoate fury far beyond her usual violent tantrums.

“Lieutenant Blade?! What are you doing here?” Scarlet gasped.

Dusk had his eyes set firmly on Stormy Ruin, although his respirator mask hid his enraged expression. “Is that a trick question or something? I’m going to kill your ex-teammate.”

Scarlet was very alarmed at this declaration, but Stormy just sneered. “The hay you are! Rats don’t kill raptors!” She started to spread her wings, but her right wing just twitched, the bones either broken or dislocated by Dusk’s opening attack.

“Some Lunar Guard would have gone for the head for the opening attack,” Dusk said conversationally before lifting off into the air again, “but there’s no way that would have landed so easily. Wings are bigger. Softer. And you dumb birds slow down a LOT when you can’t use them.”

Scarlet winced. “All right, look, can you both just tone down the racism a little bit? I’m sure that-”

Stormy screamed and bolted forward. Dusk darted to one side through the air, dodging and winding up for a counter. When the Reaver leapt again Dusk attacked, striking her on the side, while Stormy’s own kick cut low beneath her opponent. The moment the mare landed Dusk was swooping down toward her, and he barely veered out of the way when she suddenly bucked at him.

Dusk gained altitude again and Stormy took off at a run, building up speed as best she could before jumping toward a spear jutting out of the floor and then deflecting off of the haft.

“KHORNE TAKE YOU!!” Stormy raged, sailing past Dusk as the thestral swung through the air. She reached the wall and launched herself again, this time lashing out with her good wing and successfully striking her opponent across the side of his head. “YOUR SKULL WILL DECORATE MY SHOULDER PLATE, YOU COWARDLY VERMIN!!”

Dusk was quite impressed with the strength the mare could put behind her wing given how brittle they tended to be, but he didn’t retreat this time. The Lieutenant darted forward through the air, spinning and smashing a hoof into Stormy’s shoulder. She was flung away toward the ground, and again opened her left wing to create some drag and right herself just before she landed.

“You’re a pretty good fighter! Stupid, though,” Dusk taunted, lifting higher into the air. “That seems to be a theme with your Blood cultists. Go figure.”

“BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!! SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE!! GLORY TO THE LADY OF THE SUN AND THE SAVIORS OF EQUESTRIA!!” Stormy boomed, speeding up again to try to leap at the stallion.


Scarlet looked up anxiously as the two ponies became blurs of brown and gray, clashing in the air with meaty thumps and snarled curses. While she imagined the two soldiers may have been evenly matched in a fair fight, Dusk’s first attack to disable Stormy’s wing had been decisive; the Reaver was simply unable to use most of her usual tactics and techniques without being able to fly. Stormy Ruin was in a near-berserk state where the impacts of Dusk’s kicks probably felt like mere pinches, but the bat pony was nearly untouchable and landing several stronger blows.

With a sigh, the cyborg pegasus look back down to Gear Works, who was still lying in a twitching heap behind her. She could tell he was alive, at least, but part of his optical hood was badly cracked by Stormy’s kick and some kind of dark fluid – and blood, although there was much less of it – was leaking out onto the ground. She didn’t know if the unfamiliar fluids were vital to the Techpriest’s survival, but decided it was necessary to get him to someone who did.

Scarlet took off her respirator mask and bit onto Gear’s servo arm, gently lifting the stallion’s body up onto one of her bionic wings. Most ponies surely would have struggled to lift the weight of a full-grown stallion with numerous cybernetics, but Scarlet Shrike merely needed to be careful she didn’t wrench the servo arm the wrong way and snap it off. Once he was settled on her wing she lifted it up to move him fully onto her back, ready to be transported.

Then an especially loud impact came from the battle in front of her, followed by a scream of pain and anger.


Stormy Ruin rolled roughly across the ground and then opened her good wing, pushing herself upright again and flipping back onto her hooves. The Reaver’s normally immaculate hair was matted and dirty, and there was blood dribbling down her face and legs from her injuries. Her wounded wing had hardly been spared further abuse during the combat, and now definitely sported what looked like a major fracture as well. The wounds were serious and rapidly getting worse but Stormy was in a frenzy, her eyes focused on Dusk Blade with deadly intensity. Dusk Blade had not been unscathed either, but the damage appeared to be trivial; it was clear Stormy hadn’t landed a single good hit the entire time.

Stormy Ruin suddenly bolted to the side, slamming a hoof against a pike that had been erected in the deck flooring. The haft bent sharply and then broke, throwing the skull on top across the room. Before she could pick up her new weapon, Dusk rocketed into her side with an aerial kick. Stormy Ruin was knocked off her hooves again, and Dusk Blade backflipped through the air and then landed on the dropped pike.

“Please, stop this! Both of you! I have to get the Acolyte to a medicae!” Scarlet begged.

“Then DO IT! What are you waiting on us for?!” Dusk snapped, kicking aside the loose weapon and jumping up into the air again.

“Not so fast,” Stormy huffed, slowly advancing on her opponent, “she might need to take one more soon.”

“And you think it’ll be me, huh?” Dusk asked blandly.

“Won’t know until I try!” Stormy’s eyes flashed as she spread her (mostly) undamaged wing, and she scuffed at the floor with her front hoof in preparation to charge again. Blood spattered the deck with each movement, but she didn’t seem to notice while she psyched herself up for the next assault.

“Ruin, desist. You too, thestral. This fight is over.”


Stormy and Scarlet almost jumped at the sound of Folgore’s voice, and Stormy immediately seemed to snap out of her battle trance. The stallion was seated at the entrance of the yard, his mane still damp from a recent shower. He wore nothing except for the amulet bearing the Mark of Khorne, and was using a small towel to dry off his bionic leg.

Stormy Ruin grimaced, her ears flipping down and her wings carefully folding. Then she jumped to avoid a swooping kick from Dusk Blade, yelping in surprise and stumbling on her landing. “Hey! What are you-”

“I’m your opponent, not him,” Dusk snarled, gaining altitude again and looming over the mare. “I say when we’re done!”

“You won,” Folgore said blandly, looking up at Dusk. “I would rather not have Ruin injured any worse when we’re due to be deployed again soon. Such a petty conflict isn’t worth the loss.”

“Not your decision,” Dusk snapped. “If you want to stop this, you can step up and end it yourself, Sergeant. Otherwise, shut up and turn around!”

Stormy and Scarlet boggled at the challenge in disbelief. Folgore looked less impressed, and started walking out into the yard toward Stormy Ruin.

“I’m guessing this whole affair is due to the Acolyte on Shrike’s back?” Folgore asked while he approached the injured Reaver. “I respect your efforts, Lieutenant. You fight very well. I think it’s fair to say you’ve avenged his injury.”

Dusk Blade dove to the floor, landing and skidding to a stop right in front of Folgore. The other stallion stopped, a single eyebrow arched.

“What did I just tell you?” Dusk hissed, his amber eyes pulsing with a strange light. “This fight ends when I say so!”

Folgore looked slightly perturbed. “Lieutenant, I hardly think-”

Dusk Blade’s hoof slammed into the side of Folgore’s jaw, pitching his head to the side. Folgore blinked repeatedly. Scarlet gasped, the pupil of her eye shrinking to a pinprick. Stormy crouched into a combat stance again, immediately ready to continue the battle.

“You narcissistic, blood-addled, half-witted vultures kick around whoever you want for whatever reason you want and laugh about it until somebody stronger than you comes along and makes you stop,” Dusk seethed, a strange, dark gloom starting to surround his spread-out wings, “today, I’m that someone. Gears tried to help your dead weight get back into fighting shape and Ruin broke his face for it. Now I’m going to do the same to her, right after I gut you like a cave serpent.”

A few seconds of dead silence dominated the yard. Stormy’s stance wavered. Folgore slowly turned his head back to stare straight forward again, blood trickling down a cut in his cheek. Scarlet’s heart was pounding hard, a deep sense of dread gnawing at her guts.

Then Gear Works groaned, shifting upright on Scarlet’s back. “Lieutenant, please do not murder anypony on my behalf. This damage is not permanent, much less fatal.” He coughed a few times. “Also, what are you even DOING here? You said you were patrolling.”

“I am patrolling!” Dusk protested, his aura of deadly menace rapidly vanishing. “I saw someone starting trouble and-”

“This is nowhere near your patrol routes, you liar. You followed us,” Gear Works accused, gently pushing down on Scarlet’s wing. She quickly opened and lowered it to create a ramp for him, and the tech-cultist started crawling down to the ground.

“Okay, fine. YES. I followed you. You got me. Then I saw this…” Dusk paused to swallow the first profanity that came to mind, aware that the tone of this encounter had suddenly shifted. “… mare slug you. So I did something about it!”

“I noticed. And now the Sergeant is attempting to de-escalate the confrontation and I’d appreciate your compliance,” Gears said.

“Why are you acting like this is MY fault?! I’m defending you!” Dusk complained.

“No, Miss Shrike was defending me. She positioned herself to prevent further harm and terminate the conflict. You were avenging me, not defending me.”

“Semantics!”

“Hardly. You had no idea what my condition was. I could have bled out on the deck while you were busy fighting and the only one who would have noticed – again – would have been Miss Shrike.” Gears coughed again, and a few bits of glassine fell onto the floor in a thin puddle of viscous fluid. “That said… I do appreciate your concern, Lieutenant, and I thank you. Do not think me ungrateful.”

“You sound a little ungrateful!”

Folgore observed the argument silently, his eyes shifting between the brutalized cyborg and the thestral standing in front of him. He raised his hoof and brushed it against his jaw. The kick had not been terribly strong; he was certain a stallion who spent so many of his nights slaying Orks was capable of much worse. Even so, he could feel a bruise forming beneath the trickle of blood. The Reaver’s brow furrowed.

“Ruin,” Folgore said, his voice instantly putting a stop to the other conversation, “apologize to the Dark Acolyte.”

Stormy recoiled, her expression twisting into one of shock. “Wh-What? Are you serious?!”

“Yeah, actually, I’m also kind of confused,” Dusk admitted, looking suspicious.

“It’s exactly as you said, Lieutenant. We do as we please, until someone stops us. You intervened on your friend’s behalf and have purchased our contrition with the only currency that matters: force. We will do as you wish. There is no mystery here.” Folgore looked curiously pleased as he stamped his bionic hoof on the floor. “Ruin! Proceed!”

Stormy flinched, but she offered no further protest. She limped across the room toward Gear Works and Scarlet Shrike, feeling the full weight of her injuries now that the adrenaline and battle fury was draining away. Her left wing sat at a strange angle and her elegantly curled and styled mane was matted and dirty with blood. Gear Works almost felt pity for her as she stopped and dropped her head into a bow, despite the pain still coming from his own wound.

“Dark Acolyte Gear Works. I have been… humbled,” the mare said through clenched, bloodied teeth. “My offense was unwarranted. I’m… I’m sorry for striking you.”

“Apology accepted!” Gears yelped, still nervous about being so close to her.

“Thank you, Stormy,” Scarlet said, looking relieved.

The smaller mare glared up at her, but didn’t say anything further. Stormy Ruin turned around and limped back toward Folgore, sulking. Dusk watched her, but the tension was slowly draining from his body as well. Folgore watched the bat pony carefully, his lips curling into a (very) slight smile.

“We have never had a thestral in Khorne’s ranks. Your people have a reputation for cunning and treachery, not strength,” the black stallion said, gesturing to Dusk, “but were you to be the first of your kind to attempt the Blood Trial I would gladly vouch for your courage, Lieutenant.”

Dusk made a face, but then quickly schooled his expression. Ultimately he was glad he wasn’t going to have to fight a pair of Reavers (probably to the death) and was pleased that he had actually gotten an apology out of Stormy. He wasn’t nearly so happy at the sudden sense of warm camaraderie coming out of Folgore, though.

“We don’t really do the Chaos God thing in the Lunar Guard,” Dusk admitted, his ears flipping down, “but that aside, as long as you’re feeling cooperative I’ve got a question: what’s the deal with you and Shrike? Why are you trying to get her booted from the Company completely? Why does she get flustered every time we bring it up?”

Folgore quirked an eyebrow. He glanced over at Scarlet Shrike, who immediately winced. Stormy glared at the huge red mare.

“Yeah, like this! You see what you’re doing now? Every time somepony asks you all just clam up and start making weird faces! What’s going on here?!” Dusk huffed.

“I suppose you do deserve an explanation,” Folgore said reluctantly. “It is a very private matter and slightly embarrassing, but by now it’s entangled you and the Acolyte. Very well.” He gently coughed into a hoof, and then schooled his expression (for all the difference that made; the stallion’s face may as well have been made of stone). “I’m not sure how much you know about Shrike, but she hails from a small outskirt pegasus settlement called Airbrook.”

“Yeah, we did know that, actually,” Dusk said, “and then it got attacked and she decided to join the Company to take the fight to the Orks but they kicked her butt so she turned to Chaos and so on and so forth.”

“Ah, is that what she told you?” Folgore asked, arching an eyebrow. “Well, I suppose there’s no falsehood in that much. What you probably do not know is that I am also a guard from Airbrook. We were a couple at the time of the attack, and we left for Ferrous Dominus together.”

“A… couple?” Dusk asked, his eyes darting over to Scarlet Shrike. Then he looked back at Folgore. Then he narrowed his eyes and scratched his chin.

“… Do you need a minute?” Folgore asked.

“No, it’s fine. Just doing some math in my head. Keep going, don’t mind me,” the thestral replied, staring up at the ceiling with a fascinated expression.

“Right. As I was saying…” Folgore turned to look at Scarlet with exasperation. “Although we started at more or less the same point, our paths diverged dramatically once we were here. Shrike had great difficulty adapting to the Iron Warriors’ methods of warfare. I excelled at it. I completed my blood trial by slaying my daemon opponent. She finished hers by flailing about in a panic and leaping out of the ritual circle while the daemon tried to grapple her, and was victorious only technically. I was empowered by the fury of Khorne to ever-greater feats of bloodshed and earned the rank of Sergeant. In Shrike’s case her middling enthusiasm for fighting Orks was finally freed of her persistent cowardice.”

“My understanding is that was still a substantial improvement to her combat efficacy,” Gears interjected.

“Yes, fine. I’ll grant her that much,” Folgore admitted, glowering up at the cherry red mare, “but it wasn't enough, was it?”

Scarlet Shrike, who had so far endured the explanation in ashamed silence, slumped. “No, it wasn’t. I was never the equal of the other Reavers, even though I dearly wanted to be.”

“Because you’re NOT a Reaver, Shrike. You never were,” Folgore said with a grimace. His words were harsh, and his tone grim. “You were admitted by whatever whim of Khorne granted you your mark, but you are not one of us. I was willing to play along up until your recent maiming, hoping that perhaps experience would eventually compensate for your lack of zeal and fury, but I was wrong to do so. My leniency led you to lose your wings, and now I’ve decided to end this farce once and for all.”

Scarlet twitched and pursed her lips, looking like she was about to protest. But Folgore turned back to Dusk Blade and continued speaking.

“A short time after we were marked by the Blood God, me and Shrike separated. Since then me and Ruin have become much closer.” He gave the injured mare a perfunctory nod. “I’m sure you can now see the root of all this.”

Dusk tilted his head to the side, frowning. “Well… no? I can see that you have a habit of shacking up with your subordinates – which is a serious problem by the way – but I’m not clear on what that has to do with anything else here.”

“Then let me spell it out for you,” the black pegasus grumbled, “I only tolerated Shrike’s position in the Rozen Wings because of my own feelings, and that was an error. And SHE only wishes to be part of the Rozen Wings – and the 38th Company more broadly – because of her feelings; to stay close to me and continue her anemic rivalry with Stormy Ruin for my affections. This is also an error. I am correcting these errors. It’s time she gave up on me and went back to Airbrook, where she belongs.”

Realization dawned on Dusk’s face, but Scarlet immediately stood up straight and objected.

“That’s not true, Sergeant,” she said, her voice only slightly shaky.

“Don’t lie to me, Shrike,” Folgore commanded, his eyes narrowing. “You know as well as anypony that you don’t belong here. Your feelings are what they are, but by humoring you for so long I’ve put your life and our missions at risk. It’s over. GO HOME.”

“I don’t want to,” Scarlet retorted, her voice becoming just a tiny bit heated. “I’m not here to follow you around like a lovesick puppy, Sergeant. I’m here to fight the enemies of harmony and harvest skulls for Lord Khorne!”

Folgore snorted, and then gestured to the others with a wing. “Do any of you believe her?”

“Of course not. If this isn’t about you, she’d have dropped out of the Rozen Wings a long time ago,” Stormy scoffed.

“I disagree emphatically. Miss Shrike would never leave the Rozen Wings of her own accord,” Gear Works interjected. “She likes you. All of you. She dearly wants to be around her friends, almost as much as she wishes to continue fighting the Orks.”

Stormy’s expression turned angry for a moment at being contradicted, but it rapidly shifted to one of confusion. Scarlet lifted her head higher. Folgore look annoyed.

“Is that what she told you? Foolishness,” the Khornate stallion scoffed, “she doesn’t care about anypony else in the unit. And her stubborn attachment to me is just going to get herself killed.”

“Which… would be an acceptable fulfilment of her worship, right?” Dusk Blade asked. “I thought the only real benefit of being a Blood Cultist was you got to take stupid risks and it fit your crazy religious doctrine.”

“It’s slightly more nuanced than that, but you’re not entirely incorrect. And while I sympathize with the Sergeant’s criticism of her combat record, his attempt to remove her from the city is clearly an overreaction,” Gears added, “aside from being, strictly speaking, against protocol…”

“You may think that if you’d like. Such permissive negligence was how THIS happened,” Folgore retorted, pointing his wing at the bionic ones on Scarlet’s back.

The enormous mare took a step toward him. “Why does it matter so much that I lost my wings? When you had your leg hacked off nobody treated it like it was a huge failure!”

“Because no one doubts my capabilities or service to the Blood God,” he replied sharply. “No one coddles me so that I can share in other ponies’ glory! My scars are the price I pay for victory! Yours are shameful reminders from when you got distracted and fell behind! It’s time to end this childish façade!”

“It’s not a façade!” Scarlet said firmly, clearly upset. “I’m a servant of the Blood God and a warrior of Chaos, even if I’m not as good at it as you are! You can’t throw away my entire career because you think I’m… that I’m faking it to stay close to you!”

“You are, and I can,” Folgore snapped back. “Unless you’re going to do something about it?”

Scarlet immediately froze up, and then her ears flattened. “… There’s nothing I can do, is there?”

“Are you SERIOUS?!” Dusk shouted, causing her to flinch. “Mare, the guy is practically begging you to deck him! DO IT!!”

“B-But I, uh, I can’t j-just-” Scarlet start stumbling over her words, her eye wide and anxious.

“As you can see, you’re just wasting all our time,” Folgore said, walking past Scarlet. “Ruin, follow. We need to have that wing set and your other wounds treated immediately.”

Dusk made an intensely frustrated noise that sounded like a high-pitched squeal. Scarlet Shrike sighed and looked away while the other Reavers walked by. Gear Works looked up at Scarlet for a moment, and then turned his cracked optics veil toward Folgore.

“Sergeant, if I may-” Gear Works began.

“You may not,” Folgore replied curtly, not slowing his exit. “It’s getting late and this pointless affair has spent enough of my patience.”

Gear Works felt a chill down his spine at the firm dismissal, and once again braced himself. “I… I must insist, Sergeant.”

The pegasus halted and then glanced back, his golden eyes narrowed to slits. Gears flinched, feeling his circulatory engine increase its compression cycle of its own accord. Folgore didn’t turn away, however, so he swallowed the dread in his stomach and continued.

“I believe the… crude, spontaneous nature of this conflict troubles Miss Shrike. A more formal arrangement might be more feasible,” Gears said, his voice slightly shaky.

“What are you going on about?” Folgore snorted, turning around completely.

“It is somewhat difficult for me to interpret your wishes, mired as they are in your psychotic warrior culture, but if you wish Miss Shrike to overcome her exile through violence I believe a simple arena match would be the optimal format,” Gear Works explained.

“Why would I agree to that? I’ve already made my decision,” Folgore said, his voice a dark rumble.

“I believe that such a trial would be a viable a test of her combat proficiency, which is at the core of your claim for dismissal, is it not?” Gears asked.

“It is, but I don’t need some arena bout to know what her fighting skills are like; I’ve trained her myself and seen Shrike in action time and time again,” Folgore growled, “and that was when she had wings. What are those hunks of glass in her back good for?”

“Accept the terms and you’ll get to find out,” Dusk interjected angrily. “What’re you afraid of?”

The pegasus stallion hesitated. “… I’m not sure I’m the one you’ll have to convince. What does Shrike think of this arrangement?”

“I accept,” Scarlet said, having been silent since Folgore tried to leave.

“Really, now?” the Sergeant arched an eyebrow. Scarlet’s expression was calm and grim for once, and he couldn’t tell whether she was seized by determination or just desperate. “You’re not going to be facing some hapless greenskin, you know. Do you think you can take down a real Reaver?”

“If that’s what it takes then that’s what I’ll do. Give me the chance to prove myself or fail properly, Sergeant. That’s all I ask,” Scarlet said firmly.

“Fine. No more excuses and no more bargaining. One last embarrassment to bookend your sorry career, and then you can go back to chasing off petty bandits on the outskirts.” Folgore sighed wearily, and then turned around to leave again. “Tomorrow, at 1500 hours. Be at the Pit of Thorns in sector 5.”

“Yes, Sergeant,” Scarlet Shrike said. “Who will be my opponent?”

“You will face me, naturally,” Folgore announced. Seeing Shrike flinch, a slight smirk crossed his lips. “You should feel free to accept your exile and flee the city instead. But should you show up, I’ll tear those ridiculous machines out of your back and send you back to Airbrook a proper war casualty. Is that understood?”

The larger pegasus turned her head away briefly, centering herself, and then she took in a deep breath. “Understood, Sergeant. I’ll make you work for it!” she said, staring back into his eyes.

Then Dusk slapped her in the cheek with his wing, and she blinked repeatedly in surprise.

“NO!! No, no, NO!! Stop it with the defeatism, you loser!” the Lunar Lieutenant shouted angrily, leaping up and hovering right in front of the enormous mare. “Tell him you’ll break him apart like a soup cracker! Say you’ll plant his skull on your bedpost to remind you of the old days! Tell him you’re going to break off that cheap bionic and stuff it down his throat!!”

“Uh, b-but… I’m not going to do any of those things,” Scarlet protested anxiously, edging away from the agitated thestral, “even if I win, I don’t need to-“

“IF you win?! At least give us confidence! Show a little guts!”

“Good luck with that,” Folgore grumbled, again walking toward the exit. “Ruin, let’s go get you treated.”

Stormy nodded hesitantly, watching Scarlet out of the corner of her eye. Then she grimaced, limping after her squad leader and lover.


Scarlet winced as the bat pony berated her, her ears pinning back against her head. “I accepted the challenge, didn’t I? Why are you so mad?”

“Because these psychopaths left you in the dust and tried to kick you out of the fleet and BROKE MY BEST FRIEND’S FACE and you barely even raised your voice over it!” Dusk snarled, shoving his nose into hers. “If I wasn’t so peeved at them I’d be on their side! What kind of Khorne cultist are you?!”

“Lieutenant, calm down,” Gear worked ordered blandly. “It’s no wonder the Sergeant took a liking to you so quickly; you look like you’re on the verge of aneurism.” His servo arm idly picked up a chunk of armaplas broken off from his mask while he turned to address Scarlet Shrike. “Miss Shrike, I’ve done all I can. Your fate is now in your hooves, and unfortunately that of your former squad commander.”

“Yeah, about that,” Dusk interjected hotly, backing up, “when were you planning to let us know you and the Sarge were shacking up?”

“I don’t really see what it matters,” Scarlet replied, exasperated. “What exactly would have gone differently had I said from the outset that Sergeant Folgore is my ex-coltfriend? It’s embarrassing and… honestly, still very painful.”

“Why’d you guys split, anyway? Were you too docile for him?” Dusk asked, causing the mare’s bright red face to darken considerably. “Or was he too small?”

“Wha-What do you… Neither! He’s not SMALL!” Scarlet protested, badly flustered.

“Well, okay, maybe not on average, but compared to yo-“

“Lieutenant, can we go?” Gears interrupted. “I would really like to get my optical veil repaired, and your behavior is rapidly getting worse.”

“I have a lot more questions, though!” the thestral complained.

“Then I should really go back to my training,” Scarlet announced, fitting her mask back into place. “Acolyte, once again I really cannot thank you enough for all you’ve done for me. You’ve saved my life, intervened again and again on my behalf, rebuilt my body, and granted me one last chance to be a Reaver. What’s more, you’ve suffered for it, both in your studies, your labors, and physically. I can’t begin to imagine how I could repay you.” Scarlet bowed her head deeply. “Whatever happens from here on, you have my deepest respect and gratitude. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.”

“You’re very welcome, Miss Shrike,” Gears replied, bowing back. “I am still ashamed by the inadequacy of my work on your bionics, but it is a great comfort to hear your words. May the dark gods bless your augmentations, and may they sunder the flesh of your enemies with Khorne’s bloodthirst.”

Scarlet Shrike hesitantly turned to face Dusk Blade. “Lieutenant, I should thank you, too. But not as much. Please don’t kill my friends.”

“I get that a lot,” Dusk admitted. Then he paused and clarified, “Not the thanks, the other thing.”

With a slow, uncertain chuckle, Scarlet turned away.





Sector 4 – Mechanicus Temple Beta-3
Maintenance cloister 2-G

“So the Pit of Thorns, like most of the cult arenas, is named for its primary obstacle setup. There are spikes on the wall, mechanical spikes that emerge out of the flooring, and parts of the ceiling can break off and fall, attached by chains that can lift them back up. So that they can fall again, later. The ceiling also has spikes, of course. Duh.”

Dusk Blade cupped his chin with the tip of his wing, and then raised a hoof to the hololith outlining the arena’s area. With a nudge the image rotated, and then he pointed to a particular point in the stands around the combat pit.

“The Pit of Thorns doesn’t have a control center exactly, since it isn’t considered an active obstacle arena. That’s really weird, in my opinion, but the fanatics don’t think it counts as ‘active’ unless the arena traps are specifically trying to kill you, I guess. The setting here has the traps activate on a predictable cycling timer instead, meaning they don’t use triggers, either. They’re all controlled by a minor cogitator located here, in the maintenance cloister.”

With a gesture, the hololith zoomed in. “Now: the combatants need to be in the arena by 1500. The final sweep is done immediately preceding the starting horn to turn on the death trap machine. I think we can be in there right after the horn, as everyone will be absorbed with the fight. You know how to clear mag-seal access registries, right?”

Gear Works sat on a repair dais, his mask being slowly repaired by several small servo arms drawing over the damaged armaplas covering. “Lieutenant, I have no idea what you’re going on about.”

Dusk huffed and turned to the Techpriest. “Okay, sorry. Got a bit ahead of myself there. Let’s back up: We’re going to help Shrike kill that Folgore guy.”

A larger servo arm swung down while carrying the end of a long tube that ran into the cluster of cables covering Gear’s neck. “I’m not going to do that, no.”

“Gears. Buddy. Chum. Friendo. You know she’s going to lose without our help, right?” Dusk asked.

“I’ve calculated her odds of victory at 3.72%. That meets most statistical thresholds to presume a loss, yes,” Gears Works admitted while the hose was fitted into his respirator mask. “What of it?”

“You don’t care if she wins or not?”

“It would be somewhat gratifying for Miss Shrike to achieve her goal of remaining with the Company, but I cannot say I’m invested in a particular outcome,” Gears admitted. “I have done my part. The rest is up to her.”

“But she SUCKS and needs our help!” Dusk protested. “C’mon, man! I can’t alter the cogitator without you!”

“May I ask why you care for her victory? You seemed quite irritated with Miss Shrike just hours ago.”

“I’m mad at her because she didn’t pulverize the ponies that I hate!” Dusk fumed. “Now she’s going to be fighting them, which is great! So we should help her murder her ex in ritual combat to prove herself or keep her job or whatever.”

“I must confess that I’m surprised at your enmity for Sergeant Folgore. What did he do to offend you?”

Dusk grunted in annoyance, banishing the hololith with a wave of his hoof. “He’s responsible for this whole mess! Whether he’s right about Shrike or not, if he wasn’t such a self-absorbed mule she wouldn’t be in this position and YOU wouldn’t have to deal with Ruin batting you around like a cat with a ball of yarn.” Then he shuddered. “Also it kind of creeps me out that he was so receptive to me kicking his marefriend around. So yeah, I really want to see him smashed into a wet paste.”

“I can see why he was so impressed by you,” Gear Works drawled. The smaller servo arms started removing the cracked pieces of the glassine visor that protected his optical cowl. “Anyway: no. I will not interfere with a formal combat trial between Khorne cultists because you have a grudge against one of them.”

Dusk frowned, and then brightened as he got an idea. “Would you do it for friendship?”

“I just said I was not going to participate in this to fulfill your inane animosity for the Sergeant. Invoking ‘friendship’ – as if it means anything to you other than leverage to extract favors from others – does not change my motivation,” the cyborg pony retorted.

“Okay, first off: it really hurts that you’ve become so cynical, Gears,” Dusk chided, “second: if not for me, won’t you do it for Shrike?”

Gear Works hesitated, and Dusk sensed weakness. He jumped over to the dais and stood next to Gears, wrapping a wing over his shoulder and pulling him closer. The servo arms delicately removing broken shards from his face shifted to compensate, the machinery beeping and whirring noisily.

“I’m not totally clear on where you stand with the definitely-not-a-Space-Marine chick, but I don’t really believe you’re cold-hearted enough to set her on a collision course with the second strongest stallion in the Company and then let raw luck and the most capricious God in the known galaxy decide her fate,” Dusk said, arching a brow. “Shrike was already defeated. She was going to watch the mule trot away with his new girl and then leave the city forever. If you don’t really care whether she stays or leaves, then that would have been the best outcome. But you DO, don’t you?”

Gears gulped, which sounded kind of like gravel being sucked into a vacuum cleaner. “I… I just think, logically, that I’ve performed enough unsolicited favors for her,” Gears said, his optics lights somewhat blurry and misshapen without the screen. “And what you’re suggesting is no mere favor! If we were to sabotage the match and get caught, or even have our participation deduced after the fact, then I don’t believe she would appreciate it! Also the other Reavers would probably kill us.”

“Good points, very solid, so here’s the plan: We will NOT get caught,” Dusk said, smiling darkly.

“Lieutenant,” Gear’s ears fell flat while the servo arms finished picking out glass shards and withdrew.

“Gears. GEARS. You’re the master of engineering and machines and rules and I respect that, okay? But I’M the master of hurting ponies and getting away with it,” his amber eyes seemed to glow as he bared his fang. “If there’s anything you can trust me with, it’s this!”

Gear Works looked away. “There is a moral valence to this project that doesn’t sit right with me, Lieutenant."

"Of course there is! Because you’re a big wuss who always follows the rules and backs down rather than hurting someone,” the bat pony scoffed, “it’s probably why you’re so sympathetic to Shrike. But which of us has actually gotten results against these savages?”

Gear Works groaned. “You did, Lieutenant.”

“So you should trust me when I tell you that my plan will work and it’s not immoral to cheat against Khorne cultists,” Dusk said smugly, moving away from the cyborg and pressing a hoof to his chest. “But remember, this isn’t about me, you’re doing this for Shrike!”

“She’s an incidental beneficiary of your own petty grievance, but yes, I suppose I would be doing it to aid her.” Gears paused as a new lens covering for his optical veil was lowered from the ceiling port. “… However, you’ve made your case, Lieutenant. It… is a bit negligent of me to have delivered Miss Shrike to this point only to abandon her. And I see no other opportunity for assisting her in her match.”

“That’s the spirit!” Dusk said brightly, shoving the visor lens into place. Gears yelped and recoiled, and the servo welders followed after him to seal his face plate in place as best they could. “With your brains, her brawn, and my… uh…”

“Amoral belligerence?” Gears guessed when Dusk trailed off.

“I was going for something more like ‘cunning’ but yeah, that works!” the bat pony said brightly. “We’ll get through this together, Gears! For FRIENDSHIP!”

“Friendship… sure…”