I Blame You, Too

by Whitestrake


Girls in Mozambique can be Purchased from Human Traffickers for as Little as Two Dollars

$%$%$% Amos's POV $%$%$%

The double doors opened simultaneously, though with little urgency, so I at first thought nothing of it. Two gurneys rolled out, pushed by the Medic's Warp-energy. Dahl was on the first, pale and mumbling in what must have been a drug-induced coma. Skully was next, equally pale, though his eyes were open and focused on something lightyears away. For once, he was unarmored above the shoulders, though what bits of his suit were not equipped were laying next to him.

“Oh, don't worry one bit; this happens every time the Burned Man tests a new recruit.” Whether the pony psyker meant we should not worry for Taylor or Dahl, I had no real idea. The heretic would pull through, being conscious and all, but I had more than a slight choke in regards to the boss. I've seen the man fight cultists and traitors by the dozen, but I've never seen him asleep within trying to rest. The sight was... unnerving. “The orderlies should show you to Mr. Dahl's suite shortly.”

“What about the Burned Man?” Martellus asked, artificial voice flavored with curiosity. I imagine he was after a peek at his technology, or at least wanted to see how much of the Burned Man was machine.

“I shall see to him.” That voice was new, and its owner was completely unexpected. It was a black xenos much like the one Taylor spoke to in the tree, but its horn was cracked and a trail of pale green scar tissue was etched through one eye, now milked over and blind. The other eye was still a bit duller than the first two bug ponies we saw, but seemed to have full functionality. “If you'll be so kind as to release him to me, Medic.”

“Of course, Arachni.” With a push of energy, the gurney rolled to the new xenos, Arachni. She had a horn, yes, but seemed unable to use her powers as a psyker. Was there some sort of organ, perhaps an extension of the brain, that resided in pony horns that channeled their Warp-energy? That must have been the case, a fact that became evident after the xenos Arachni began pushing the gurney with her forelegs. She moved swiftly, leaving us alone as white-coated orderlies appeared form behind the double doors.

“If you'll be so kind to follow us, we'll have you in your rooms shortly,” The larger of the two said. He was a male with wings, light green with equally light eyes. He regarded us without the slightest curiosity or distrust. This one was familiar with humans, enough so that he couldn't care less about how strangely we looked.

“Lead on, xenos,” Alexander ordered.

$%$%$% Taylor's POV $%$%$%

I hadn't seen Arachni in months, perhaps even a year. She looked much the same, though visibly aged. She wasn't connected to the hivemind anymore, a product of a rifle round that ricocheted off a rock and through the tip of her horn. It cracked enough to destroy her magical capabilities, and the resulting emission blew most of her face open. The Medic patched her up almost as good as new.

“How are Chrysalis and Scipia?” She asked, keeping her eye ahead. I could only barely hear her and my vision kept fading in and out. Learning Ophidia and Dahl were once the best of friends was a shock to my core, but not the reason for my near coma. I made the mistake of pressing into Dahl's mental barrier that surrounded the previous decade and the modern day. Something powerful kept me out, but I don't know if it could be attributed to Dahl's training as an inquisitor or something more... sinister.

“Scipia's fine, really loving school.” I smiled at the thought, then winced as another shock ran through my frontal lobe. Yeah, probably shouldn't be happy when dealing with psychic pains. “Chrissy and I have been trying for another.”

“What happened to no more Deceiver or Grand Matron?” Arachni was referring to the previous regime's configuration, something I nearly died destroying. The Deceiver had been as close to a god as I have ever had the misfortune of seeing up close, and the Grand Matron was the queen chosen as the leader of the changeling species. I had been Chrysalis's champion, and had been given the gift, or perhaps you may consider it a curse, of wearing the Deceiver's armor. “You never did get my humor.”

“That's because you aren't funny.” I grunted a bit as I undid the first seal on my armor's torso, still rolling towards my old suite. In a way, this was a sort of homecoming for me. “Heard any news from Ponyville?”

“Chrysalis and Scipia are supposed to be on their way, with Leviathan in tow. Jay is likewise bringing the Element Bearers in case there is a danger we do not perceive at the moment.”

“Why the hell aren't you working for the Inquisition?”

“You can't afford my salary.”

$%$%$% Amos's POV $%$%$%

“Swanky,” Oleg said, observing our rooms. We were each given our own suite, with Dahl having the nicest, if only by the addition of a single throw pillow that the rest our our rooms lacked.

“What's in the footlocker?” Delphine asked, pointing to a small trunk half hidden beneath Oleg's bed. It looked industrial, a heavy steel number bearing the seal of the Equestrian Inquisition. Oddly, there was no lock anywhere on it. Oleg managed to wedge his fingernails under the lid, but couldn't get enough leverage to budge it.

“Let me try,” I said, waving a hand as my large comrade kicked the box to me. In a flash, I pulled my knife from my boot, testing the edge against the locker's lip. It'd be a tight squeeze, but I could fit my blade in well enough. The steel would hopefully hold against the pressure as I raised my boot over the handle. It flew open like a small bomb went off inside.

“What are those?” Oleg asked, pointing to the collection of what appeared to be rifles that filled the mysterious footlocker. They were made of wood and steel, handcrafted with care and precision. They were all the same model, bolt actions with a six-round magazine. The projectiles were brass with a lead tip, similar to autoguns, though they seemed to have a longer effective range. “Is that a scope on that one?”

“I think we just broke into a cache of sniper rifles.” Well, it only had the ability for precision at range with a scope, so they weren't all sniper rifles per se. Actually, I wonder how they would compare to a standard longlas. We wouldn't have the chance to test them, not with Skully and his friends watching us, but at least we weren't unarmed any more.

$%$%$%$%$%$%
Extra – From the Files of the Equestrian Inquisition: Incident No. 420596
June 8, 1013 AC

Three humans (Amos Till, Oleg Verovsky, Delphine Louise) were arrested for using illicit firearms and stolen ammunition to damage property of the Crown. The three perpetrators used Enfield rifles to take potshots at labyrinth flower pots and one fired a shot in the direction of Prince Blueblood.

The three were fined a total of 800 (eight hundred) bits, pardoned by the Burned Man under grounds of diplomatic immunity