//------------------------------//
// A Man Escaped Prison in a Cardboard Box, Solid Snake Style 
// Story: I Blame You, Too 
// by Whitestrake 
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	We touched down surprisingly quickly, right in one of the palace's courtyards. We were, obviously, surrounded by more of the quadrupeds, the vast majority of which were wrapped in black cloaks. One of them, however, stood out to me, a face I'll never forget. He, and I was sure of their genders at this point, was white, with, oddly enough, a blue mustache. He seemed, in sharp contrast with every other native we had at that point, optimistic and on the whole rather happy about the day. Skully and the purple female were already out of their carriage by the time ours pulled in.

The psyker and new male, which had a horn, therefore making it a psyker as well, seemed to exchange pleasantries like a pair of old friends. I only really payed them any attention because the strider was put down behind them, and that's the absolute truth of the matter. Still, I couldn't help but notice he wore the same void-black and ivory clothing as the other Equestrian inquisitors. However, this individual wore armor instead of the leather coat, and his full-face helmet was clipped to his... flank, I suppose? The mustached alien waved to me with a foreleg that was obviously a prosthetic, and not the cybernetic sort favored by the Mechanicus.

Our friends, and I use the term rather loosely, set Shipmaster Delray's atmospheric vessel down next to the strider. However, unlike our arrival, which was completely expected and likely scheduled beforehand, the remaining members of Dahl's retinue were the subject of cautious worry. Before meeting the members of the Equestrian Inquisition, I thought our Ordos didn't fuck around, but at least we wait for positive identification before pulling out the guns. As soon as the small ship's hatch hissed open, dozens of rifles were pointed at it, ready to spit hot death at whatever came out.

I think Alexander decided to be funny then, because he came out with his hands raised above his head. The savant walked sideways, never taking his eyes off the xenos, and paying extra attention to Skully. With a single word from the psyker, the aliens lowered their weapons, allowing Magos Explorator Martellus to exit next. That only left the Adepta Sororitas, Sister Delphine of the Order of Serenity. Considering she was armed, and very much a woman who despised xenos, witches, and heretics, things could very easily get ugly. As I suspected, the woman in power armor slowly crept from the small vessel, bolt pistol at the ready. She may have been a medic, but she was just as ready to resort to violence if need be, and, sadly, she saw need there.

A single crack filled the air as she fired. Skully's head jerked back as the explosive round detonated against his faceplate, which, I must admit, was a pretty good shot at that range. Immediately, the xenos were lining up shots, but did not fired. Slowly, and very creepily, Skully returned his head to its resting position. A large scorch mark marred his mask's facade, with bits of the silvery alloy showing through the paint and soot.

“I did not do that.” Was Sister Delphine seriously trying to deny responsibility for actions Inquisitor Dahl bore witness to? The Sororitas's hand shook as she dropped the pistol, a sure sign of resisting psychic suggestion. I curiously looked over to the boss, only to see him just as shocked and angry as Oleg and I. A small rumble came from Skully, crystal-clear even through his armor. The rogue psyker was laughing, but that was not the most disturbing part of this; far from it. As I said, there was a large scorch across his faceplate, well, it was receding. Nevermind the fact that he may have forced Delphine to shoot him in the face to prove a point, his armor was fucking healing itself.

You know, I expected a bolt pistol to have more punch than that. Skully's emotionless mental voice sounded bored and a little disappointed. The man must have sincerely wished to put his power armor through its paces, but was denied the chance. On that note, it was then I realized he was suicidally insane. Keep that in mind for later.

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“Taylor, you are reckless and a complete idiot.” Fancypants, Secretary of the Inquisition and leader of the Inquisitional Temple of Canterlot, had been a member of the Burned Man's organization since day one, a favor for not having the man arrested for banging his daughter, Fleur. As it were, the stallion was absolutely loyal to Equestria, a fact which was proven five years ago. “But you certainly get results.”

“Viscount, don't get any funny ideas about authority.” The man in black was still chuckling at the display of firepower. Fancypants wasn't much more than a noble in Cantlerot society, but he was also the face of the Inquisition in the capital, which made him a man to be feared and respected. He was also, by far, its most approachable member. Being so close to the princesses, he was officially dubbed Viscount for all correspondence with foreign Temples.

“Trust me, I am well-aware that you are in charge.” The stallion grinned at the man, an expression that had been born in war. It was not the friendly smile one often saw on the pony's face, but the same predatory look that had heralded the downfall of a number of the kingdom's enemies. “So, what do we do with these people?”

“Inquisitor Dahl will be escorted to Celestia and Luna to arrange a more accurate contract of peace.” Official matters were a bore in every institution, and the Equestrian Inquisition had a lion's share of its own red tape when not kicking in doors and seizing suspected criminals. To be an inquisitor was to be above the law, yet bound in more ways than the average citizen, and that meant answering for each and every expense and action taken. In this regard, Fancypants was perfectly suited. “By the way, the robot comes with me as well. This language barrier is a complete bitch.”

“What happened to telepathy?”

“My lords, what are your orders?” Forbidden Query was a new member of the Inquisition, and eager to prove himself in the wide, wide world. This made things completely horrible for his superiors, and shit assignments did nothing to solve things. The gunmetal stallion saw everything as a learning experience, even laundry duty. He was banned from laundry duty for trying to devise a method of cleaning leather that would save time and money. “I am willing and eager to serve.”

Taylor and Fancypants shared a look, before the human cleared his throat.

“Yes, Query, I have a task of the utmost importance for you.”

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I have no idea what Skully said to make that one male run off like that, but he seemed excited to be leaving. I think it was a shit assignment of some sort; I recall Dahl doing the same with his last interrogator, the one who got eaten.

“This is most unusual.” Martellus was a sneaky bastard for a guy with metal feet. I could never tell where he was looking because of all the lenses on his face, but he seemed interested in more than just the xenos.

“Strange readings?” I asked, half expecting some answer I would not understand, if only to humor the tech-sage. I don't get surprised very often, but it is always something extraordinary that sets me off. Like, say, Skully's power armor being able to communicate with the magos's implants.

“Text message from your psyker.” See? Kinda weird, isn't it? I ever learned how Skully got the frequency needed to send messages to the magos, or how he had access to a Low Gothic alphabet. It actually made sense in some way, given the cyborg's brain was well-protected against psychic invasion, so the next best solution was obviously texting. “He is rather well-spoken, and seems to have a solution to our language issues.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Dahl asked out of the blue, still keeping a wary eye on Delphine. Skully, at least at the time, was proving to be a magnificent bastard. I think it was because he was on the job; he still had his youth about him.

“We also say you and I are to follow him to meet the leader of these, as he calls them, ponies.” There a bit of static in the final word as he put emphasis on it, which was as close as his artificial voice got to disbelief. I'd ask why he was so surprised at the terminology, though it was out of my own ignorance of what the word meant. “I will get right on his solution while we walk, if you do not mind.”

At that moment, I realized Alexander, Delphine, Oleg, and I would be left at the mercy of the Equestrian Inquisition.