//------------------------------// // Jay wrote this chapter. Don't bother pointing out any errors, lore rapes, or anything you find unsavory. I assure you, neither of us gives a fuck. // Story: I Blame You, Too // by Whitestrake //------------------------------// 8=====Jay's POV===D~~~ Lazguns are fucking bad-ass. That was my only real, discernible thought as the shot from the rifle cut through the target and into the steel wall behind it. Now, this chamber of the Hangar was normally used for testing high explosive ordinance and the such, so, the fact that this little gun could cut through almost two feet of steel was, in my humble opinion, pretty bad-ass. “Could you please stop wasting the weapons ammo?” Oh fun, that would be Polished Cog, one of the more 'haughty taughty' scientists here at the Hangar. Probably should explain that a little bit as well. Well first of all I'm in what I like to call the Hangar, but what everyone else calls, 'Hangar Neighteen'. Kill me. Please. “I'm just testing it, so calm your teats Coggy.” “I've told you before, do not call me that, Mr. Braden.” “And I've told you before Cogboy, just to call me Jay, it's what everyone else does.” “I'm not like everyone else.” “Clearly.” So, back to the explanation, I suppose. Coggy is one of Equestria's top scientists and researchers on everything that can and will kill. He's also an asshole, but that's beside the point. “And what have you figured out through your, 'testing', exactly Mr. Braden? Hmmmm?” “Well, you can crank these ammunition packs for one thing, so your ammo concerns are rather unjustified, Coggy.” “I already knew that. Genius.” “Hmph, then why the whining about ammo for the gun?” “Simple, I dislike you and would like it very much if you were to leave. “Alright, fine then Cog, maybe I'll bother you later.” I said as I was walking towards the Hangars exit. “For Celestia's sake, please do not.” 8=====Amos's POV===D~~~ “Fuel line needs replacing, one wing is damaged and becomes stuck occasionally if too hard of a turn is taken, and one of the landing gear may become stuck occasionally.” Martellus listed off some of the more obviously damaged aspects of the Strider as he walked around it. “Unfortunately, we're out of fuel lines, everything else should be fixable though.” “How did we run out of fuel lines?” “Aquila Lander fuel lines never did last very long, so I imagine one modified mostly for greater speeds would have even less of a life expectancy for lines.” I remained quiet as I inspected the damaged fuel line. More could always be acquired whenever we arrived at Crius, if the Inquisition even gave us the chance that is. The wing and landing gear should still be fixable though. “What is exactly wrong with the wing?” “Seems some pieces of genestealers have become stuck in the left aileron and have caused it to jam at certain angles during flights.” “Shouldn't be too hard to fix. What about the landing gear?” “Seems to be a an issue with the hydraulics that raise and lower the system.” “That should take...what? A week to fix?” “As long as we can allocate all of the necessary parts and tools, then yes, a week sounds about right.” 8=====Jay's POV===D~~~ “Would you quit staring at my damn legs?” It seemed as if Jacques was beginning to get upset with Lyra, to say the least. I guess I can't really blame him though, she hadn't taken her eyes off his new hind legs since he and I had set foot on the train. “Seriously, it's fucking creepy.” “Jacques!” Did I mention Chrysalis and Scipia were here as well? They were apparently heading home without Taylor in tow, something that the changeling mother seemed none to happy about, by the way. “Shit, sorry. Forgot about Scipia, my bad.” “Jacques!” I just silently listened on with a small smile on my face. Jacques had asked if he could stay at the farm until he made arrangements to get back to the Crystal Empire. Lyra had decided to take a few days off after the clusterfuck that was the last few days. Which reminds me. “Why are you staring at Jacques's hind legs Lyra?” “I wasn't staring at them, I was observing them.” “That doesn't really change the fact that it's weird.” “Fine. I was just thinking, I wonder if it would be possible for me to get prosthetics like that, you know?” “Considering that you'd have to get your legs cut off or something, I don't think that would work really well, Lyra.” She actually looked kinda sad at that. Almost like a sad puppy. Unfortunately for everyone in that train car, myself included, she then perked up as if she had just thought of a brilliant plan. “No.” “You don't even know what I was gonna ask though!” “I'm not going to cut off your legs for you Lyra.” “Whyyyyyy noooooootttt?” “Because that's a stupid idea.” “Come on, you wouldn't even have to cut off the whole leg, just the hooves really. I'd be okay with just prosthetic hands!”