//------------------------------// // Rock-em Sock-em Renegades // Story: My Iron Warriors: Ordinance is Magic // by Perturabo //------------------------------// It took all of Rarity’s determination, as well as a little bit of fear, to keep her moving forwards. After recovering Sweetie Belle, she’d been running as fast as her legs could carry her ever since those ghastly brutes had broken out from their incarceration at the Castle and begun fighting back against Celestia’s troops. That had already stressed Rarity out to such a degree that, assuming she got through this, she just KNEW there’d be wrinkles on wrinkles. Coupled with the Changeling’s return, whom for all the unicorn knew could be working with the ‘Iron Warriors’…well, of all the worst possible things, Rarity considered it the worst possible thing. Beside her, Rarity could see her friends Pinkie and Applejack running alongside her. The athletic farmer Pony showed little obvious signs of physical distress, although looking into her eyes Rarity could see worry, confusion and fear. To the right, Pinkie Pie bounced along as fast as she could. She didn’t seem as obviously concerned as Applejack, but Rarity knew the party pony well enough to know when something was frightening her. No songs to ‘giggle at the ghosties’ this time, like when they’d first met. Rarity doubted that laughing at the Iron Warriors would have any greater effect than making them angrier. Rainbow Dash had taken to the sky earlier, along with Fluttershy. Rarity wasn’t sure whether her shy friend was still around, but Rainbow had been taking the battle to the Changelings in the sky. Her words earlier about executing the Iron Warriors came back to Rarity-at the time, she’d been shocked by them, but now she couldn’t help but feel that Rainbow Dash had a point. Before she could consider this any further a stray thought wandered into her head, almost bringing her skidding to a halt; where was Spikey-wikey? Rarity had a look around, expecting to see him running close to her in a darling little effort to protect her, but twilight’s assistant was nowhere to be seen. Panic overtook her, and for a second she considered turning back to try and find him. It was only reasoning that she was no good to him dead that stopped her. Rainbow Dash-or something that looked like Rainbow Dash-came hurtling out of the sky at the three running ponies. Before, at the wedding when they first encountered these foul creatures, the Elements might have been duped by it; but now, they were ready for any sign of deception. Applejack leapt and turned in mid-air, delivering a devastating kick with her strong hind legs to the Changeling. Its head cracked back as the disguise melted away, and the black monster fell to the ground unmoving. The ponies didn’t let themselves slow down, running towards the train station. Swarms of Changelings were buzzing through the air and tearing apart Canterlot’s buildings under their mass, but it was still possible to get everyone out on the trains if the guards could hold out just a little longer. Three more Changelings, these not bothering to hide their true forms, attempted to block off the end of the street. They span round as the three friends ran towards them, hissing and baring their fangs. Applejack, Rarity and Pinkie sprang towards them, not giving them time to disguise themselves. A serious of-to Rarity’s eyes, exceedingly uncouth-hoof blows left the shape shifters in a heap. “Come on gals, jus’ a little more!” Applejack called, putting her head down and holding onto her hat to allow her greater speed. Rarity pushed herself even more. Ugh, all this sweating is going to just RUIN my mane she grumbled internally, before chiding herself for such childish moaning. At the very least, the Changelings seemed to be concentrating more and more of their forces on the castle, giving the Element bearers a little more breathing room. A second thought crossed her mind, another sense of something missing. This time, she couldn’t help herself as the horror seeped into her mind. Her legs went rigid, freezing Rarity in place as the sounds of screams and battle echoed all around. Breathing did not come easily, every inhale short and ragged. She could feel herself shaking slightly as terror rose again. The other two stopped, turning and looking at her with a mix of shock, fear and-at least in Applejack’s case-anger. “Come on Rarity, this is no tahm for bein’ a drama queen!” she shouted in frustration. Rarity just looked at her, seemingly whiter and paler than usual. When she did speak, it was little more than an emotion-choked whisper. “Where’s Sweetie Belle?” --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “Do you even actually know where we’re going?” Scootaloo didn’t bother answering as she navigated the scooter through Canterlot’s streets. The Crusaders had managed to acquire it from a store they’d ran past that had had its windows smashed in. Scootaloo vaguely remembered Rainbow Dash once telling her that doing things like that was ‘looting’, or something, but as far as she was concerned she reckoned that her idol would cut her some slack this one time. Applebloom and Sweetie Belle had managed to squeeze on the back, hooves wrapped around Scootaloo’s waist for stability-it was a tight fit, the other two fillies usually being transported in a small cart behind, but although they were almost thrown off at a number of corners fear gave them the strength they needed to hold on. “Well? Do yah?” It was Applebloom asking the question, Sweetie Belle electing to stay quiet and let Scootaloo concentrate. The Pegasus cast an irritated glance backward, expertly navigating their small transport around a piece of debris that had come to rest in the middle of the road. “I think ANYWHERE’S better than here right now, AB.” The Earth Pony didn’t look convinced, grimacing as her head was snapped forward painfully as the scooter jerked over a newly created pothole. “Shouldn’t we be tryin’ tah find Rainbow Dash, or mah sister, or someone like that?” No sooner had she said it, a bolt of blue sailed overhead, crashing into some hovering Changelings and knocking them down to earth with a crash. Despite herself, Scootaloo let her jaw drop in admiration, the gust of wind Rainbow Dash’s flyby had created cooling some of the sweat that had beaded across her brow. “They’ve probably got bigger problems right now!” She called back as she accelerated, Sweetie Belle making a noise that sounded like she was about to hurl. Scootaloo decided that her friend’s queasy stomach was a problem for later-right now; she just wanted to escape this battle zone intact. After those strange metal things, or whatever they were-nobody had told Scootaloo exactly what was going on-had broken free and started fighting the guard, the Cutie Mark Crusaders had along with the other Ponies managed to evacuate the throne room more or less unharmed. Initially they’d stuck close to Applejack and Rarity, trusting their big sisters to keep them safe. If the young Pegasus was honest with herself, the whole thing had been a major adrenaline surge that wasn’t altogether unpleasant. That had changed when the Changeling’s had attacked-Scootaloo remembered the last time they’d encountered the icky bug-things, at the Royal Wedding, and she’d had more than enough of them then. This time though it was far worse; the Changelings didn’t seem particularly bothered about taking over Canterlot, rather electing to tear the city to the ground. In the confusion and panic the Crusaders had wound up separated from any sort of authority figures, and had taken it upon themselves to make their own escape. Despite their youth, even they could see the city was a disaster zone. Buildings and the very street had had chunks blasted out of them by the force of the Changeling’s impacts, with some houses and ships being dragged into ruin by sheer weight of numbers. Above their heads, Equestrian royal guard clashed with the Changeling invaders, though for the most part Celestia’s warriors were on the back foot. There were already bodies from both sides starting to litter the ground, though Scootaloo tried not to think about them. Her attention was brought back to the present in a hurry as a Changeling dropped onto the ground in front of them, hissing with sharp teeth bared. Ignoring Applebloom and Sweetie Belle’s screams, Scootaloo threw the scooter into a power slide, kicking up grit into the monster’s eyes and causing it to screech in frustration at its temporary blindness. She beat her little wings faster, struggling to maintain a grip on their transport as it wobbled almost uncontrollably. She finally managed to force it to straighten out, but she had no time to celebrate as two more Changelings started flying behind the Crusaders, pursuing them furiously. “Hold on!” Scootaloo called out, slightly unnecessarily. She darted through tight back alleys and round sharp bends, but still they were chased. The Crusaders ducked as another Changeling sailed overhead, taking a small measure of satisfaction as it crashed into the side of a building. All the while their pursuers edged closer and closer, until they were literally snapping at the Ponies’ heels. Just when Scootaloo was about to break down from fear, Sweetie Belle finally chose to contribute something. “Over there!” she cried, gesturing with her hood. Following her friend’s arm, Scootaloo saw a strange piece of debris angled skyward in the middle of the street. For a moment it didn’t click, but before she could say anything Scootaloo realised what Sweetie Belle was getting at. She grinned, and gave a small nod. The scooter sped up even more as its pilot pumped her little wings even harder, blinking tears from her eyes and gritting her teeth in effort. In response, the pair of Changelings began to fly faster, unwilling to let their prey escape so easily. Finally reaching the rock Sweetie had pointed out, Scootaloo didn’t slow down but just kept going, throwing herself upward as she did so. Applebloom and Sweetie did the same, pushing off the scooter and sailing through the air as they cannoned off the end of their makeshift ramp. But the Changelings couldn’t slow down, and with howls of anger they sailed between the Crusaders and the now empty scooter, turning circles far too wide to make going back practical t such speed. Whilst they’d avoided the immediate danger, it didn’t take long for the three fillies to realise their own mistake. Scootaloo reached out for the scooter that was now plummeting towards the ground, but it was in vain. They tumbled head over head through the air, before impacting the cobbles with a hefty thump and skidding along the ground, finally coming to rest in a jumbled heap at the foot of a building. For a moment they were too dazed and confused to move, before finally they managed to pick themselves up and shake away the stars dancing before their eyes. “…yeah, remind me not to follow Sweetie Belle’s advice in future near-death situations.” Scootaloo said sarcastically. Sweetie just pouted. “Well, at least we got away.” Applebloom interjected, eager to avoid an argument now. “Come on, we can’t be far from the station, maybe we can get a train back tah Ponyville or somethin’” As the Crusaders turned to run, a shadow loomed over them. They looked round in terror, backing away and closer together as they did so. The Changeling slowly descended to the ground, empty blue eyes showing the three fillies their own frightened reflections. It grinned as it advanced, slowly and menacingly like a predator taking sadistic pleasure in the last moments of an animal it knew couldn’t get away. Scootaloo quickly glanced at her two friends-they were both shaking, eyes wracked with terror. She tried to put on her best war face, to show this monster that she wasn’t afraid of it, but in truth she knew that she must look just as bad as the other two. She’d never thought it’d end like this. It would always have been something more…awesome. Something amazing, not being murdered by an animal in the streets of Canterlot. And of course, Rainbow Dash would be there. That was what hurt the most-the fact that Rainbow Dash couldn’t save them. Scootaloo would never get to tell her how much she meant to her, how much she inspired and gaze Scootaloo hope. “Girls...” It was Sweetie Belle. Far be it from the loud screams Scootaloo had expected, her voice was barely above a whisper, and choked with emotion. “Do you think we’ll get our Cutie Marks in being best friends?” The simple honesty of the words broke the dam Scoots had erected inside. The tears flowed down her cheek slowly, each one of them glistening in the afternoon sun. She wrapped her hooves around those of her friends as the Changeling advanced, the display of togetherness more meaningful than any words. There was a strange, rhythmic banging hammering away at the edge of her consciousness-Scootaloo dismissed it as her heart. Despite herself, she smiled. “Yeah…you girls are awesome.” She breathed out slowly and waited for the blow. Memories flooded back to her-flight school, meeting Applebloom and Sweetie Belle at Diamond Tiara’s Cutesinera, forming the Cutie Mark Crusaders, the talent show, the sleepover at Fluttershy’s…it was all going to be gone. It had been good though. She heard the Changeling coiling for an attack, and tried to make a brave face. The banging, whatever it had been, suddenly stopped. Scootaloo’s eyes snapped open as the second dark shape sailed overhead. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- They’d fallen like stars from heaven, angry gods of the firmament bringing their wrath to the mortals below. Lorkhan had released his hold on Zuko and Rorke as soon as they were free falling-complainers by nature though they might be, their sense of self-preservation was far stronger. For a couple of seconds they’d just dropped, speeding up with every moment and feeling the wind whipping past them. They hugged close to the Castle’s wall, bodies angled feet first. Looking to his right, Lorkhan saw Mordecai, his skirt blowing upwards and revealing his silver coloured greaves. Parchment ripped from his armour, carried away by the force of the updraft. To the Warsmith’s right was Zuko; although the wind made hearing anything difficult, even over the vox, Lorkhan was pretty sure his Champion was swearing. After falling for about ten seconds, and still a fair way up the castle’s sheer wall, the Iron Warriors deemed it time to slow their descent. They punched one gauntlet into the wall, easily smashing through the stone and digging their armoured fingers in to try and catch on to some handgrip. Pieces of masonry flew back as they grabbed on, dust and rock clanking off power armour. They still fell, but constantly smashing through brickwork with one hand brought more and more resistance force into play. Not all of them made it; Lorkhan saw a piece of jutting rock that brother Vortax had attempted to grab onto come loose. He flailed around in an attempt to restart his slide, but he found no purchased and with a scream fell down and down, disappearing into the streets below. The Warsmith shook his head as he grabbed tighter onto the wall. Idiot. Eventually, they had slowed enough so as to nearly have stopped, still dangling a considerable way above ground level. They pushed off the wall with their legs, turning round in the air and throwing their arms back, giving the impression of great apes leaping through the treetops of ancient Terra. They sailed through the air, before crashing down onto nearby rooftops of what the Iron Warriors assumed must be the habitation for the Xenos of this city. Thirteen pairs of power armoured boots landed on one, leaving irreparable cracks in the roof tiling, whilst twelve more crashed down on the identical house across the street. Lorkhan rose from his crouched landing position back to his full height, Mechatendrils snapping at the air in excitement. “Not the most conventional deep strike method, but it’ll do.” The Obliterators had not followed the rest of the Grand Company to the window, initially staying behind to hold off the mass of bug-like aliens in the throne room. Seeing that their brothers had more or less landed in one piece, Vortun’s warriors decided it was their turn to leave. They stepped backwards and just tumbled through the sky, accelerating rapidly like huge black comets. Their ‘unique’ biology meant they weren’t able to grapple onto the wall, and for a moment Lorkhan wondered whether they were going to end up as warp-tainted paste smearing the ground alongside Vortax. His concern was dispelled as Mordecai stepped to the edge of the roof, watching the Obliterator’s fall. The Telekine extended a hand, curling his fingers into claws. Immediately the cult’s descent slowed invisible energy acting as a counter to gravity’s press. Mordecai gave a grunt of pain as his fingers twisted uncomfortably, and for once Lorkhan didn’t mock him-it must have taken considerable psychic force to slow down such heavy objects. Finally, the Obliterators touched down on the streets far below the rest of the Iron Warriors. Their impacts made considerable shockwave, blowing both bug and guard pony backwards. Without a moments delay Vortun and his brothers began to blast out great streams of flame from their newly morphed heavy flamers. The stink of burning flesh could be smelt even high above. “At least someone’s having fun.” Lorkhan muttered. Behind him, Mordecai sagged slightly, breathing heavily as the exertion manifesting such power required took. Zuko moved to support him, earning a nod of thanks from the Sorcerer. The Iron Warriors didn’t bother debating their next course of action. They’d managed to escape custody, and whilst they still didn’t have their weapons, the unspoken consensus seemed to be that they’d be better served retreating to the wreck of their ship and then launching a counter-attack. The buildings they’d landed on seemed to be some kind of high rise apartment block, with smaller housing below. Fighting between the two Pony races was going on in the air and the streets, but as far as the Iron Warriors were concerned as long as they got through to their objective, everyone was an enemy. They started to run, armoured footfalls causing more cracks to appear across the roof tiling. They bludgeoned their way through any Pony or Changeling they came across, trusting more to brute strength than battle skill. On the other rooftop, Lorkhan saw Rorke dropkick a dazed Changeling’s head off, snapping the neck clean in half. He couldn’t help a feral grin covering what was left of his organic face. Lorkhan’s group leapt down another storey or two, splitting off as they crashed onto the smaller house’s roof. Mordecai and about five other Iron Warriors followed Lorkhan; two more peeled to the right, whilst Zuko and two others went left. They dropped into the streets and began carving their way through Xenos soldier and frightened civilian. Blood caked their armour as it spurted from torn flesh, and although such rampant violence was at odds with the typical controlled aggression of the IV Legion, it did give Lorkhan a sense of righteous vindication. “Zuko.” “Lord.” The Champion’s reply was curt, the sounds of the dying carried plainly over the vox. Lorkhan shook his head slightly in amusement as he run; they hadn’t died. Zuko was wrong. He was probably never going to live this down-not if Lorkhan could help it, anyway. “Do you see a way out of the city?” The Warsmith asked. There was no reply for a moment, before a confirmation rune blipped on Lorkhan’s optical display. “Yes, there’s a single bridge that seems to lead out to surrounding countryside. We could try the mountains I guess, but we would have to navigate the gorge between here and there.” “Affirmative. I’ll patch co-ordinates to all brothers and we’ll rendezvous there.” “Rorke’s helmet is broken, sir. He may not get the message” “And?” “Lorkhan.” The Warsmith sighed, stooping down to pick up a rock as he did so. He hurled it through the air with pinpoint accuracy and considerable force, striking one of the armoured Pony xenoforms in the head and causing it to crash into the street as the rock exited the rear of its skull. “Oh, fine then if you’re going to get whingey about it. I’ll get Kravix to babysit Rorke.” Lorkhan didn’t wait for the reply, closing off the vox link. Behind him, Mordecai sped up his jog, coming to run parallel with Lorkhan. “Lord, far be it from me to question your flawless command, but I do believe you’ve made a rather considerable oversi-one moment, please.” The Changeling dived at Lorkhan from behind, screaming and howling. Lorkhan heard it and begun to swing round to give it a right hook to the jaw. Mordecai had already seen it; he shot an arm out, palm open, before swiftly contracting his hand into a fist. The Changeling exploded in mid-air, green blood and chunks of black flesh raining down. The sorcerer watched his handiwork fall, seemingly quite satisfied, before turning back to the other Iron Warrior. “As I was explaining, before we were so rudely interrupted, whilst your plan is deserving of merit I would not feel comfortable within myself if I were not to offer slight critique.” “You know Mordecai, you have an amazing ability to talk a hell of a lot, and have all of it be utter shit.” Lorkhan grunted. Far from being perturbed, the Psyker seemed to take this as his cue to continue. “Whilst we were incarcerated in that ghastly castle, I took the liberty of taking a look out the window whilst you and Rorke explained in great detail to our equine friends why we should not have left that room alive. From recollection, I do believe that the exit you described to Zuko was built primarily to serve as a hub for these Xenos’ primitive locomotive service.” Lorkhan just stared at him for a moment. “So…you’re saying it’s a train station?” “I believe so.” “And why is that a bad thing?” “Well, sir, it stands to reason that if we are strategizing to make our escape via that exit then these panicked Xenos-crude minds though they may possess-will reach the same conclusion.” “Again, I’m not seeing the problem here.” “Put simply; there will be a mob, Lorkhan. This will hamper our exit strategy in a way that could prevent it success, and even if we do get out we may well become separated.” “We can kill our way through.” “I fear you’re not seeing my point, sir.” “I fear you’re a fucking idiot, Mordecai, and all these rainbows and sunshine have finally made your brain snapped.” For a second, the two merely stared at one another. The Iron Warriors who had been running with them, for the most part finishing off their own kills, turned to watch them-this display of tension far more entertaining in this brief moment than the fairly unchallenging slaughter. After a while, Mordecai drew breath to speak again, when they were both distracted by the sound of something large and unpleasant landing a few hundred metres down the road. They turned to look at it. Mordecai swore, his voice still quiet and polite. Corrupted magic shot from the tip of a black horn. It struck one of the Iron Warriors square in the chest, blasting him back in a dark alleyway. The Queen of the Changelings faced down the few Astartes that stood in her path, blowing the smoke from the end of her horn. Behind her, at least fifty Changelings hovered on their insect like wings, filling the air with a horrible droning. A tower loomed over the street, bedecked in stars and swirls and a golden roof that seemed to contain an observatory. The Xenos swarmed over that too, giving off a chittering that further reminded Lorkhan of the Tyranids. “I must say, you’re surprisingly effective killing machines my friends, whatever you are.” She said, flashing a fanged smile. “The fact that now the ride has to end for you saddens me a little-you would have been more than satisfactory allies as we grind this pathetic kingdom under our hooves.” She turned her head to the side, feigning an air of disappointment. “Alas…you have no love to drain. You don’t, it would appear, care about anything. You’re no good as food, and I highly doubt we’d last long in a military conjunction without one side betraying the other, so dying really does seem to be the only option left to you.” “Wait!” The Warsmith raised a hand, causing Mordecai to look at him in mild surprise. “That’s not true! We can be valuable to you. We like lots of things.” The Changeling Queen raised an eyebrow and smiled, her amusement and incredulousness both written plainly across her face. “Such as?” “We like…erm…we like…” Lorkhan rubbed his hands together idly as he wracked his brain to think of something-anything-the thirteenth company didn’t hate. Beside him, Mordecai had placed both palms over his faceplate, shaking his head slowly and sadly. “We like…We like the Gods!...no, actually, not really…erm…we like revenge? Well…no, we wouldn’t have chosen this life, if I’m being honest…come on there must be something, what about…no, we hate that….oh, how about….no, we hate that as well…erm…” he looked up finally, seemingly in defeat. “You know what, fuck it, you probably are going to have to kill us.” The Queen looked at the ground, smiling even wider and chuckling to herself. “Well, if you insist.” Her smile dropped, all trace of levity suddenly gone as she addressed her subjects. “Get them.” ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “Oh, fine then if you’re going to get whingey about it. I’ll get Kravix to babysit Rorke.” “He may be a dickhead, but I’m sure Rorke can look after himself. I was only saying that-“ The link was dead. Zuko gave a growl of frustration as he ran-classic Lorkhan, right there. Sometimes, Zuko regretted dragging him out of the wreckage the Raven Guard had made back during the War. Zuko and Barbus ran side by side, leaping from rooftop to rooftop with considerable ease. Basikor had broken off a while back, taking an alternate route down on the streets. In truth Zuko didn’t give a shit about what exactly had happened to him, provided he didn’t do something that got them all killed. “What do you reckon the plan is?” Barbus asked as they jumped. Zuko grunted. “Is now the really the best time, brother?” “Just trying to make conversation.” He had a point. “If you want my opinion, first we break out of here. Then we go back to the ship, before launching a counter-attack to get our weapons back.” “And then?” “We murder every living thing on this Gods-forsaken planet.” “Fair enough.” They ran on a brief while before he spoke up again. “So how exactly are we getting of this world.” Zuko stopped almost in mid-air. He crashed into the next roof, sending tiles flying under his weight. Barbus skidded to a stop, looking at him with a mixture of disgust and concern. It was…it was a damn good question. How were they going to get off this planet? Their ship was the wrong side of useless, and in all the years Zuko had known him, Mordecai had never displayed any sort of psychic power that allowed teleportation. They could always beseech the Gods, but…well; this place hardly seemed strong in the powers of Chaos. The question stuck in Zuko’s mind and stuck fast. No matter how hard he fought to dislodge it, it hung there like a splinter. He looked around almost in a daze. A couple of metres away, on ground level, there was one of the Changelings menacing some unseen enemy. Whatever that enemy had been was probably already half-dead, Zuko reflected, but just looking at the Xenos monster made the Iron Warrior’s choler rise. His hands bunched into fists. He began to take steps towards it. “Zuko?” Barbus placed a gauntlet on the Champion’s pauldron. Zuko shrugged it off, not looking back. “Go on ahead, I’ll catch up. I just really need to go and kill that thing.” “Brother…” “Go, Barbus.” The other Iron Warrior turned, and kept running, dropping to street level. Zuko glared at the Changeling for a moment more, before starting to run. His boots made heavy footfalls in the roof tiling, a rhythmic banging caused by his movement. It still hadn’t noticed him. Whatever it was after, it was obviously a tempting target. He reached the lip of the building, rage now burning inside him like the Eighteenth Legion’s furnaces. He stopped running. The Changeling coiled to attack. He jumped. A dark shape sailed at the Changeling from above, causing it to snap out of its attack and look up in fear and surprise. Zuko gave it no time to react, slamming into it feet first. His mass and velocity did all the work, reducing the Xenos to nothing but paste smeared along the ground. Landing in a crouch atop his foe’s remains, Zuko punched straight through what was left of its skull. The monster was already dead, but it sure as hell made him feel better. He straightened, looking down at the mangled body. Memories flashed back-strangling a warrior in black war plate on the fields of Istvaan. He couldn’t remember if it was a Raven Guard or an Iron Hand. It had been the first time Zuko had spilled another Legionaries’ blood. Back then the war had mattered. It had felt…not right, never right, but like he was accomplishing something. They hadn’t lost yet, Zuko supposed. He’d still hoped they would make the galaxy a better place. He’d still thought that was that bastard Horus had wanted. Looking down at the body, Zuko tried to feel that pride again. All he felt now was cold burning disgust. “You…you saved us.” Zuko turned sharply, dropping into a combat stance. Three small ponies were cowering in the shadow of the house; they must have been what the Changeling was going after, Zuko reasoned. The one in front, the one that had spoken, was orange with tiny wings. From her body language she seemed nervous, but also awed by him. The second was yellow with a red bow. She too seemed more curious than scared. The last one, white with purple hair, stayed at the back. She only tentatively moved, not bothering to hide her fear. “That was awesome!” The orange one said. “Gross, but, awesome!” “Yeah, and you gahs don’t look like Changelings. So…ah’ you on our sahd?” The yellow one asked. “You saw them back at the castle, Applebloom! Did they look like they were on our side?” That was the white one now, her voice cracking and squeaky in fright. For his part, Zuko couldn’t help but stare at them in incredulity. Did they really think that he might be on their side? Oh shit…oh shit, they really did. That was hilarious. For the first time in decades, Zuko nearly laughed. “’Ah know Sweetie Belle, ah saw it too. But these gahs are pushin’ the Changelings back pretty darn quickly.” The yellow one replied, not a trace of irony in her voice. “Yeah, plus they look pretty awesome! Their cutie marks are a helmet or something!” The orange one piped, face creasing in a wide grin. Zuko didn’t move or say anything, unsure of how to actually respond to that-the fact that they’d referred to the iron helmet of the IV Legio Astartes, the cold skull feared across the length and breadth of humanities’ galactic empire and the harbinger of inevitable violent death, as a ‘cutie mark’ had sort of left him reeling. “What’s your special talent?” she asked, seemingly genuinely interested. “It’s probably something to do with scarin’ everypony-ah mean, it is kinda’ frightnin’.” The yellow one said. Her peculiar accent was starting to grate. “No, it looks more like something from a skull and crossbones. You know, like those pirates that we learned about with Ms Cheerilee used.” The white one said. Her voice still quivered slightly, but now that she had something to distract her it sounded more absent-minded than anything. “So, they’re like, really overdressed pirates?” the orange one asked. She looked unconvinced. “Well, they’re hardly privateers.” “Wuts ah’ priv-ee-tahr?” the yellow one said. Yep, that accent was DEFINITELY more irritating than it was a few moments ago. “It’s like a licenced pirate. You know, like a police-pony, but for water.” “I don’t think they’re pirates, Sweetie Belle.” The orange one said. Zuko wasn’t sure whether to agree with her or not, considering her argument was based on his attire. “They are too!” “Nuh uh!” “Yeah haw!” “Nuh uh!” “Yeah haw!” “Nuh uh!” “Yeah haw!” This was too much. As the two small Xenos still bickered, Zuko tensed a leg and started bringing it back to drop kick them into orbit. They didn’t seem to notice, and Zuko was about to turn them into mush when Barbus’ voice crackled into life across the vox. “Zuko, wherever you are, drop what you’re doing and converge on my position. Lorkhan’s gone and got himself in a spot of bother.” “In a minute, Barbus.” “Now, Zuko.” “Please let me kick these little bastards.” “Boss…” “ugh…fine…” Zuko practically growled the world, sighing in frustration as he lowered his foot. The Ponies still weren’t paying attention to him, caught up in their infantile argument. For a moment, Zuko considered flattening them anyway, before deciding that the Warsmith needed all the help he could get. He turned and began to sprint back to the main road and towards Barbus’ co-ordinates. “Hey, where yah going?!” The yellow one called out. Zuko didn’t look back. Away from you was all he could think. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Lorkhan ducked the bolt of dark energy, punching through the chest of another Changeling. He grabbed the heart in his fist and pulled with all his strength. It ripped clean away, still pulsing slightly. The Changeling coughed up a little blood, seemingly not comprehending what had just happened, before dropping to the ground. Lorkhan chucked the organ away nonchalantly, returning his attention to the battle at hand. It wasn’t looking good. Even with the Iron Warrior’s considerable advantage in terms of individual skill, the sheer number of their enemies was presenting a problem, not to mention the fact that their Queen had elected to join the fight proper. Their ability to change shape was also starting to have an effect in the swirling melee, some Iron Warriors struck down by Astartes they thought were their brothers. He’d lost sight of Mordecai early on, but didn’t believe luck would smile on him today and let the Sorcerer die. The smell of smoke and burning flesh through his helmet’s skull-shaped grille brought Lorkhan a moment of satisfaction, heart rising only a fraction as he realised that Vortun must have entered the battle. All the Iron Warriors in the Company had been called to make their stand here, and those that remained were leaping into the brawl from rooftops of side-streets. Lorkhan saw Zuko sprint out of a small alleyway, clothes-lining two hovering Changelings and snapping their necks. As for the Obliterators, they stomped into the field of war screaming chants of corrupted binary and spewing out great balls of plasma. Two of them scattered, yet the final one did hit two of the monstrosities, reducing them to ash. Another Iron Warrior fell beside Lorkhan, his throat ripped out by a Changeling. Lorkhan grabbed the creature and brought its back down over his knee and snapping the spine clean in half. Tossing the corpse away, he almost yelped involuntarily as he pirouetted out of the way of a laser blast. The Changeling Queen glared down at him, insect-like wings beating furiously. She unleashed another beam, Lorkhan dodging to the side again. For all his agility, Lorkhan knew that eventually he’d slip up, and that would probably lead to him dying in a way that was hilarious to his subordinates but unfortunate for him. Three more Xenos jumped on him. He beat them off with his Mecha-tendrils, breathing heavily. Blood of the Gods, just how many of these things were there? “Vortun.” He hissed over the vox. “Ja, mein kapitan?” “Do something” “Fein.” The Obliterators lumbered their way to the front of the fight, power fists swatting the enemy away like flies. They formed a rough firing line as they took aim at the Queen, arms morphing to take the form of Multi-Meltas. Lorkhan turned his head to watch in hope, not bothering to look at the Changeling he was strangling. The first beam fired. The Queen darted to the side, the buzzing sound getting worse as she flapped harder. The beam of molten energy sailed into the air struck nothing. The second beam fired. She darted aside again, in front of the tower that loomed over the street. In response, another beam of dark energy shot forth from her horn. It struck the Obliterator that had fired in the chest, causing him to stagger back and grunt in pain. Vortun closed one eye, breathed out, and fired. “Hit it, Vortun!” Lorkhan screamed. For a single moment, it looked like the bolt would hit, atomizing the vile Xenos. Just when the Warsmith dared to believe, she fell into a straight dive, smashing down into the floor and gouging a small crater in the flagstones. The Multi-Melta beam glanced into the tower, reducing the stones that made up part of the wall to nothing but molten slag. It stood like a tree that had had half the trunk cut away, leaning slightly from side to side unsteadily. The Changeling gave a hideous, mocking laugh. “Really? Is that the best you can do, a couple of bumbling oafs spewing out fire power any which way? My dear sir, if that is the case then I fear my earlier praise may be very much misjudged.” Lorkhan could only sag his shoulders. The Multi-Melta beams would take a while to recharge, and in that time they’d be swarmed again-rendering the Obliterator’s guns worthless. He let out the breath he’d been holding. It wasn’t supposed to end like this, not to some pastel coloured ponies and their fucked-up cousins. He’d wanted to do more. Punch Rorke in the face one last time, for a start. Behind his helmet, he gave the best steely expression he could. If this was the end, for once he’d do one thing right and die like an Iron Warrior. He took a few steps forward, fists balled, when a heavy claw on his shoulder stopped him. He looked round in confusion. Vortun had placed his power fist on his shoulder, gripping tightly. What was left of the Obliterator’s face, that which hadn’t been corrupted by the virus, was twisted in what could only be described as a knowing grin. “Vait for it.” Was all he said. Lorkhan turned back to stare at the Queen, not comprehending what the Obliterator meant. Then he saw it. The tower that had been struck and had half of its support blasted away by the errant Melta-beam swung slightly in the breeze, groaning slightly as its tortured structural elements struggled to keep it upright. It leaned away from the wide street, threatening to fall onto what looked like some shops for the Xenos, before it tilted back the other way. The wooden beams inside cracked. Stone crashed down onto stone. It began…it began to fall. It almost seemed to go in slow-motion. The angle was too perfect. It had to be engineered; there was no way in hell that this was happening. Lorkhan didn't move. He didn't even turn away to shield himself. He just stood there, staring open mouthed as the top half of the tower fell towards the ground. “What have you done, Vortun?” was all he could ask. His voice was barely above a whisper. Still it fell, further and further towards the ground. The Changelings noticed, heard it coming, heard it croaking and screaming as it fell. Many of them fled, flying away and chittering in fear. But the Queen was too caught up in her victory and gloating to notice. The sky grew darker as the shadow of the falling tower passed over her, but still she didn’t move. The ecstasy of this revenge seemed almost too much. Finally, as the sun was blocked out almost completely for her, she looked up. Her momentary confusion as to where many of her subjects had gone quickly distorted; for a single second, Lorkhan registered a look of absolute horror on her face as he realised she could not run. She started to say something, tried to back away and run. She never finished. The tower crashed down with an almighty roar. The shockwave blew Lorkhan back slightly, and this time he did shield his eyes as the dust was blasted against his armour. Only the Obliterators stood firm. When he looked back, the tower lay in a broken heap of masonry, blocking off the other half of the street. Bricks and debris lay everywhere, both from the toppled structure itself and those houses it had crashed into as it hit the ground. Many Changelings still hovered and stood around, gazing at the shattered tower in incomprehension. But of the Queen, there was no sign. Nobody spoke. Nobody moved. Xenos or Iron Warrior, they just stared. Lorkhan didn’t know what he even could say, he didn’t believe what he’d just seen was real. Of course, it was Vortun that broke the silence. “Ka-boom.” The vox exploded. Laughter, howls of laughter, echoed around the street. Even Mordecai was giggling profusely. Rorke was almost on the ground, clutching his sides. Only Zuko still stared forward in shock. Lorkhan fell onto his back, unable to stop the stream of laughter that came from him. He rolled slightly, trying desperately to get back up and yet breaking down into hysterics every time he did so. In the back of his mind, he was concerned the Changelings might attack in a frenzy, but blinking away the tears he saw that there was little danger of that. The Xenos were still staring at the collapsed building in shock. With the loss of their leader, that was starting to convert to fear. Lorkhan unsteadily rose to his feet, still chuckling a little and turning to look at the Changeling masses. The other Iron Warriors, as one, fell into a large group behind him, flexing their fists or folding their arms. Despite the situation, Lorkhan felt a brief flicker of pride in his men. They were together as a Company-that was rare to say the least. The Changelings turned to look at the Iron Warriors. Lorkhan could have sworn some of them gulped. “This is the part,” the Warsmith said, tilting his head to the side slightly and putting on his friendliest voice “where you run away.” And they did. As one, they turned and fled like they were being paid to do it. None of them even tried to fight back, the hordes taking to the skies in great droning masses. The black clouds flew into the sky, making for the horizon as quickly as possible. The few that hadn’t been in the mass brawl still answered the call to flee, rising into the sky with their brothers. In a few minutes, they were reaching the skyline, far away and no more harmful than a flock of birds. The Iron Warriors watched them go in silence, none seeking to tarnish their victory with idle wounds. Lorkhan thought he saw Barbus wave slightly from the corner of his eye. “Well…I do believe that was a rather successful jaunt, gentlemen.” Lorkhan could almost hear Mordecai’s breathless grin. For once, the Warsmith didn’t begrudge him it in the slightest. Finally, the group broke up and turned away, milling about seemingly unsure of what to do. Some of them started to move towards their brother’s corpses. There were no specialist apothecary’s in the thirteenth company, but Lorkhan knew that at least a few were trained to extract gene-seed. They’d done it before in any case. Before any general plan could be made, a flash of light broke the brief calm that had descended. The Iron Warriors fell back into a circle, already seeing where this was going. The Obliterators primed their weapons. The Ponies manifested around them cutting off their escape, spears lowered and fire in their eyes. They looked tired and ragged, armour beat and bent and bodies riddled with blood, cuts and scars. But the few that remained still stood, looking ready to unleash their anger in a moment. Lorkhan was almost impressed. A few hovered in the sky, spears still lowered. They were joined by a blue winged pony with rainbow coloured hair, and the yellow one that had run off crying earlier. The blue one had her hooves raised in a fighting stance, and an expression of absolute fury covering her face, whilst the yellow one tried to hide behind one of the Guards. Lorkhan knew where this was going, turning towards where the flash had originated from and being completely un-surprised with what he saw. The Pony princesses stood there, White and blue, expressions cold and disdainful. They were joined by five others-the purple unicorn that had asked some questions during the ‘trial’, an orange pony with a hat, a pink one that for some reason was smiling, a white one with blue hair that looked nearly as angry as the rainbow dick, and the Guard Captain Zuko had duelled with earlier. They all looked absolutely exhausted, but still ready in a moment to wipe the Iron Warriors off the face of the planet. “Oh, for the God’s sake.” Lorkhan heard Rorke mumble. This was starting to turn into a habit of theirs.