There are few things more deeply seeded in the human mind than the ambush. From our earliest ancestors crowded around a fire, all the way up to the modern era, being taken by surprise meant a death sentence for any and all on the receiving end. At the moment, Trixie and Chrysalis analyzed the viewscreens for any movement, even using the ultraviolet and infrared spectra to find anything that wouldn't show on human normal. From there observations, and my own, it was safe to assume we were surrounded. Princess Celestia had made it clear that there would be no rescue for us, no cavalry to come bursting in to save the day. In shirt, we were stuck far from home with limited supplies and at least one bandit clan out to kill us, and smart enough to wait until we slept to creep up on us.
Those poor bastards wouldn't know what hit them. Leviathan's targeting system lit up six individuals on thermal. By the looks of them, I'd say it was two humans, three zebras or ponies, and one shadowy thing in the rough shape of a centaur. Yeah, whatever it was had chitin covering it; the exoskeleton allowed only minimal heat to bleed into the atmosphere. As stealthily as servos would allow, the Baneblade's turreted autocannon aimed itself as I adjusted the frontal bolters. Chrysalis pressed a button on Trixie's headset. Leviathan's guns opened full stream as a gout of concentrated flames burned through the inn's corrugated metal walls.
That's another thing I've noticed about myself. This time last year, I would have been horrified at the thought of gunning down my fellow man, but now it seemed almost easy to do. A heavy impact of a boulder to the tank's side was returned in the form of a lascannon blast, which thoroughly destroyed the catapult in question. More goons rushed from behind cover, somehow thinking their makeshift clubs and spears would do anything against a fully armored Mars-manufactured Baneblade. The sight of melee fighters made my blood boil in the best of all possible ways, and part of me wanted to jump into the fray. A light clinking sound alerted me to the fire of automatic weapons, and my lack of armor besides a low-quality police vest reminded me why I was inside a mobile fortress of death.
But seeing Jay's discarded powersword leaning against the cab's wall gave me an idea. I gripped the saber in my dominant hand and clutched the half-empty .38 in the other. With one look into a view screen, and a short walk to the main hatch, I issued a single command to Leviathan.
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“Jesus Christ, Bon-Bon, you're a badass!” Jay hadn't slept during the night, none of the ramshackle band of mercenary wannabes had. The adrenaline rush of combat removed his fatigue as surely as the candy maker he spoke to had crushed a giant scorpion with her bare hooves.
“I don't like bugs.” The earth pony tried to clean her ichor-covered hooves on the threadbare sheets to no avail, leaving her hind legs partially covered in greenish gunk. The dakkadakkadakka of automatic weapons made the three stop in their tracks. A loud boom told them there was more than one heavy gun outside, with the blast being slightly smaller than Leviathan's main cannon. Holes appeared in the tin walls as bullets soared through the inn, startling the team into action.
“Follow me!” Jay ran through a large hole he'd melted into one of the walls, his trusty flamer spewing forth a fire that made napalm extinguish itself in shame whenever he saw an appropriate target. Rather than follow the direct path into the battlefield, the flautist kept turning and weaving through the maze-like structure. The strategy allowed them to reach the back entrance, just as a strong blade cut through the metal door. A foot crashed through the broken threshold, and a familiar bandaged face came into view.
“Come on, you're missing the fun!” Taylor did not sound like his usual self. There was a gruffer, almost insane side to his voice, and his bloodshot eyes lent him no aid. The larger teen stumbled as a gun sounded off, the low-caliber bullet lodging itself firmly into his cheapo vest. The tanker turned and casually shot the offender in the face, splattering a liberal amount of grey matter on the shanty behind him. “How about we really get this party started?”
Behind the semi-broken teen, the shantytown of Cuatla had devolved into a warzone. Some of the raiders that were trying to kill the ragtag mercs had turned their guns on each other, adding infinite amounts of chaos to the already discordant forces. Maimed men moaned on the ground as they bled to a slow death from compounded minor injuries, or rather quick ones if Taylor had reached them. Near the wreck of some a burned house, Chrysalis impaled a griffon on a broken support beam. With the dieing embers and rapidly fleeing attackers, it was made abundantly clear that there were no more enemies to fight.
“Or, perhaps not.” Taylor was sounding like himself again, much to the relief of those around him. The feeling of someone grabbing his leg almost made the teen jump, and seriously scared the other when he flinched.
“Help!” A wounded local, Semeru, clutched the bandaged tanker's boot like it was his lifeline. Depending on what he would say, it very well could have been. With a nod, Trixie came from the inn's front carrying a box of medical supplies. The white-haired man's injuries were painful, but superficial. After the Borderlands native looked about for the source of the magical humming, it was made clear that he either no longer had use of his eyes, or the organs were gone from his head entirely. “Oh shit, it's you, isn't it?”
“Indeed it is, now I only wish to know if you’ll cooperate.”
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I'm getting really tired of this. The chapel was back, with its gilded crucifix and marble throne. The statue looked none too pleased with me, blacks tears streaked down the porcelain face as a scowl seemed to form in the smooth material. I wanted nothing more than to reach out and strangle the mockery of human life, to crush that featureless face beneath my boot. Holy shit, I did not sound like myself. Maybe the statue would have some zen introspective message for me. Or maybe it would try and guilt me into feeling bad for destroying Cuatla.
The cathedral changed to the Borderlands, where Semeru held a caravan leader at swordpoint. The white-haired man looked remorseful for what he was doing, and also a few years younger, so maybe this was at the start of his criminal career. The scene skipped to later in the afternoon, where the local was hanging over a hefty sack of coins to what appeared to be a scorpion man. It was obvious that Semeru was under the insect, serving its whims without question. A map appeared on a nonexistent wall, displaying in detail the area the scorpion controlled and every supply line that ran through it.
A beacon signaled the center of the scorpion's empire, and it was made clear to me that my temper would be put to use in a rather easy way. With no small amount of pleasure, I noticed Cuatla was only a few hours away from the capital, so I would be able to end this rather quickly. Just as the point was memorized, the statue changed the scene. At least it wasn't directly sabotaging my efforts.
Gurabba was sobbing into his desk, mourning his own actions. He regretted sending my friends and I to fight the raiders, but he understood that it had to be done. At least he left our payment with the princess, all the better that he avoid facing us again. When I looked at the otherworldly representation of humanity, it only nodded. The statue had tied up every loose end I could think of, and gave me a clear point to attack. The inky tears that once streaked the alabaster surface of its mask were gone, and it seemed to have a new air about it.
No, I just had to figure out my place in all this.
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Extra – Negoshiatin' Goes Fasta!
Two weeks into Dark Crusade, at the Equusian/Tau meeting place.
“So, this alliance would merely be temporary, and would only last until only our factions remained on Kronus.” The human was quite eloquent, a fact that struck the Water Caste ambassador as odd. Yes, many members of the Imperium were well-spoken, but few of them were willing to speak with so-called xenos scum. It was refreshing to see a Gue'la that could make allies instead of kill everything that wasn't like him.
“And once we have removed the invasive threat?” Por'El Shesh was pleased to see the human offer his Tau guest more refreshments, provided by his honor guard of praetorian changelings. It was shocking to know that several hundred of the insect were shipped planetsdie by the Valkyrie's Flight. Taylor, as the human was called, refused to tell anyone where the actual fleet was.
“Then we can discuss matters in detail.” The hooded teenager was friendly enough, certainly no Water Caste member, and there was a certain charisma about him that inspired his troops. Being around the Gue'la was soothing enough for Shas'o Kais to remove his own helmet, an act that would have been blasphemous were it not condoned by the Aun'El. “Now, I assume you gentlemen have questions?”
“How are the changelings like this?” The Shaper spoke before the others had the chance. The gene-integrator ay have been able to sense the inherent shifting abilities of the insectoid equines. Surprisingly, Taylor took the blunt question with ease and understanding.
“Just a little mutation the I convinced the queens to allow.” The human went back to his drink, the bitter concoction known as Imperial Stim in the Tau Empire. But Shi'Ores was aware that the Imperials referred to it as coffee. “Of the twenty changeling queens we have, nineteen are constantly producing drone eggs. They each pop out about four hundred a day.”
“And what of the one that does not, is she sterile?” Shas'o Kais was taking the same approach as the Kroot, hoping to have similar results. Much to his surprise, the young adult quirked a brow. That gesture was unfamiliar to the Fire Caste commander, but he believed it meant curiosity or mild amusement. Given the strangeness of the assassin, it could also have meant both.
“Far from it, Chrysalis is actually carrying another queen.”
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I'm not gonna lie or beat around the bush.
I'm considering a 40k sequel or spin-off of I Blame You
Votes of yay or neigh shall decide, as well as its status as sequel or spin-off.
Basic plot points would also be appreciated, because you guys do my job pretty well.