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// In 2012 Hasbro received a 1.6 million dollar tax credit from the state of Rhode Island with a promise to create 245 new jobs in the state. Instead they laid off more than 125 workers. 
// Story: I Blame You, Too 
// by Whitestrake 
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$%$%$% Taylor's POV $%$%$%

I carried Jacques over my shoulder, and helped Amos hobble down the tunnel. He had Delphine's bolt pistol in hand, ready to shoot anything that made the mistake of jumping out at us. Every second I wasn't fighting, my body was winding down, cutting off my adrenaline, and making sure I felt every injury I sustained.

“How you holding up, Ripper?”  I kept my voice even so I wouldn't worry the guy. He didn't take a killing blow for me just to hear me bitch about a few cuts. Still, I think he knew I was pretty messed up by how shallow I had to breathe.

“My paws hurt,” He said simply, laughing a bit in an attempt to calm my frayed nerves. I laughed too, which immediately devolved into a coughing fit as the pain hit me again. Amos, honestly, probably got the better end of the deal; his leg would heal, especially once we were in Equestria again. My armor was healing as it always did, but it could do nothing for me, my mask's vision was fully restored, if a little fuzzy in places, but that would fix itself soon enough.

“How about you, Amos; how are you feeling?” He looked at me for a moment, like he was hurt on more than a physical level. I knew Dahl had saved his life and earned his loyalty, and I knew the pain of betrayal, but that was a look of agony worse than my shattered ribs. I knew that look, and I didn't like it one bit. Amos acted angry, and on some level I'm sure he was, but there was more pain than any tangible hatred.

“Like there's a big-ass hole in my leg.” He had a fair point; big-ass leg holes didn’t feel pleasant by any stretch. He shot me a pained grin, like he was laughing at his own injuries. “I still look better than you, boss.”

“Boss?” That was a little unexpected, but so was the Ripper's allegiance. I suppose I had a knack for making strange alliances, and I guess it translated to the xenophobic Imperium.

“Dahl's lost the privilege of me calling him that, and you just wasted a Chaos Marine, so I figured you deserved it.” We rounded a corner as he finished saying that, and say a pair of brown bodies laying in the dirt, next to the corpse of a man. There were dead changelings around them, about six to be precise, all hacked to bits. These were fresh, and it only took a minute for Amos to recognize them for what they were. “Guess your changelings took care of the genestealers for us.”

“Taylor!” Chrysalis yelled from up the hall, catching sight of the mangled pile of wannabe badasses we were. She ran up us, not bothering to hide her worry for me. She resisted the urge to hug me, seeing I was beaten to a pulp that was only held together by a suit of armor. Chorion ran up after her, beads of green blood trickling down her head. “What happened?!”

“We ran into a spot of trouble, ma'am.” Jacques had a way of understating things that I never quite understood; saying we ran into a spot of trouble was like calling a hurricane a bit of dreary weather. Which, by the way, I knew for a fact he'd done before, because he said that to me with a straight face once.

“Ophidia had a Chaos Space Marine with him,” I elaborated, knowing it would be enough for her to understand the gravity of the situation. My wife may not have known how dangerous things were, but she wasn't stupid. “I need you to take these two to the Elements. After that, make sure the girls are ready for Celestia's experiment.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Chorion asked, lifting a hoof as she spoke. That was her tell, my way to knowing how she felt about something. Raising a hoof meant she was nervous, but willing to go along with something. It was kind of specific. She was one of the few changelings who didn't give me dirty looks before Chrysalis became the Grand Matron, so I was a little more willing to listen to her. “Perhaps I could send some changelings with you?”

“Yeah, support would be appreciated.” I gently put the Ripper on Chorion's back, and Chrysalis steadied Amos. I bit back a groan as the dent in my chest popped out, forcing pressure off my ribs. They felt it thought, the ripple through the changeling hive mind; they knew I was falling apart at the seams.

“We can call reinforcements from Canterlot for you; you don't have to do this.” Chrysalis was pleading with me at that point, even if she wasn't actually begging. I wasn't actively tapping into the hive mind, but I could feel her worrying over me. It hurt worse than my injuries, especially when I knew there was nothing I could do about it.

“Amos can't fly like this, and Ophidia probably has the strider blocked off. I need to hit hard, and hit fast, and I already have Jay up there, ready to go.” Chrysalis and I shared a look, the same look she'd given me the morning I left for Canterlot to be shipped out to stop a war from erupting.

“I'm coming with you.” She had said exactly those words six years ago, and I brought up the only argument I had that wasn't born of a personal fear of losing her. Chrysalis could handle raising our daughter alone, because she would have more help than she could ever need. The princesses would over any expense, and the Elements all adored Scipia, so finding a helping hoof wouldn't be an issue.

“Absolutely not.” Chrysalis and I were equals, plain and simple, but there were some things she needed to understand were no good arguing over. This was more than me worrying about her safety, because I knew she could handle herself at a range better than I could. “Scipia needs her mother, Chrissy.”

“And what do I tell her if you don't come home?”

“What will Luna tell her if neither of us do?” In many ways, Scipia was the reason Chrysalis and I hadn't just become mercenaries, not that we were complaining. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Chorion backing up a little, and six colorful heads poking from behind a corner. She looked over as well.

“We'll talk later.”

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

I didn't understand a damned word those two said to each other, but it seemed they were arguing over something. Chrysalis and Taylor were, as I understood, married, so I suppose fights aren't unusual, but this seemed serious. Either way, he ran up the stairs into the palace, much to my confusion.

“Are you alright, Chrysalis?” I asked, knowing she could understand me. Her Low Gothic wasn't perfect, but with so many planetary dialects, no one's was. I smiled at he as best I could, but she seemed about as hurt as I was.

“Yes, just a little tired.” She was lying, but I suppose she didn't need my help with this. The other queen, who I assumed to be Chorion, put a hoof on her shoulder as soon as she was able. The other ponies, including Twilight, crowded around her for something akin to a hug. She seemed a bit, I don't know, out of it.

“Is this because Taylor's an asshole?” She looked at me, and kind of laughed. Whether that meant she agreed, or just found my bluntness amusing, I had no idea. It may have been a little of both. As weird as it was, I actually didn't like seeing Chrysalis sad like that, but I suppose it could be because she was the first alien to never look at me strangely just because I was human. She was bit like one of the Kroot mercs Dahl hired, pretty chilled out and friendly, but not overly so.

“Yeah, and he needs to learn to quit while he's ahead.”