//------------------------------// // Hisarna // Story: My Iron Warriors: Ordinance is Magic // by Perturabo //------------------------------// Cadence’s body dropped, face burned clean away by the force of a small sun. The Guards charged forth heedlessly in anger. Sweetie Belle screamed. Zuko was already moving. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to have gone, but the Crusaders’ presence had eliminated any chance of slipping off by himself. He let loose another shot from the Plasma pistol, this time striking a guard and burning him to the bone. He ducked under a clumsy spear thrust and retaliated with a brutal uppercut, shattering another foe. The shards rained down around him, scraping down the ceramite plate. Think. Think. Three seconds to cross the room, three guards to match. Locked door brought him some time, ten seconds at most, but he had counted at least 12 guards outside. Structural weakness in the windows gave another port of access… Or exit. He moved like lightning, shoulder barging another out the way and practically stomping Cadence’s clerk-pony into the dirt. A Guard crashed into him from the side, the momentum for a moment catching Zuko off balance. He stumbled back, stopped only by the wall, and with some effort hurled the equine back. As he did so, the inevitable happened; the Guard crashed into a torch stand, knocing it to the ground unceremoniously. The flames spread wildly, devouring carpet and curtain. Some of the Ponies backed away from the blaze; those not lost to wrath, that is. The fire spread through the throne chamber quickly, its extremities caressing Zuko’s war plate. He did not sweat, but he did back off, conscious of the sensation of cooking inside his plate. He supposed that under his helmet, he was the palest of his brothers anyway. His back was to the wall as he worked out a plan, staring down the encroaching Crystal Ponies. “Push! Come on, you gotta push!” The sound drew his attention, despite his best efforts to ignore it; the sound of tiny hooves pounding on a heavy wooden door. Scootaloo strained frantically at the opening, but even with Applebloom and Sweetie Belle’s weight added to the mix, they could not push it open. Despite the blood that trickled down from some areas of soft armour-the result of lucky spear thrusts-and the oncoming enemies, Zuko watched their plight for a moment. Then, in another deft movement he fired another burst from the Plasma Pistol. The bolt of super-heated energy slammed into the ceremonial doors, blowing them clean off their hinges. True, the fire would have eaten through them soon enough, but the Crusader’s panicked dash through the newly opened entrance allowed Zuko to refocus his efforts. With only a moment’s sigh, Zuko lowered his horned helmet and responded to his aggressors with a bull charge straight into their midst. The sight of a charging, battle-ready Space Marine had the desired effect, and despite their anger the Guards began to disperse out of his way. It was all the opening the Iron Warrior needed. Leaping, he crashed a boot down onto a Guard-probably crushing its crystal skull-and threw himself in a somewhat awkward swan dive out the opposite window. He was saved by luck. Although Zuko was fairly confident that most of the populace couldn’t possibly know about their leader’s murder yet, many of the Guards had already been mobilised and were flying around the tower; no doubt alerted by the sound of fighting. Falling face down, the Astartes somehow managed to crash into one of them, the two engaging in a rough and tumble fall through the heavens. Zuko’s weight had probably broken most of…whatever passed for bones in his body, but the Guard was still able to exhibit a surprising amount of strength, and they did not drop from the air immediately. Locked in violent embrace, it was all Zuko could do to aim them head-first towards an oncoming window. He braced. They erupted back into the castle in a shower of glass, reflective shards scattered over the equally luminous floor. The Pony was dead on arrival, neck clearly snapped as his body lay limp. It took Zuko a moment to rise, coughing and hacking painfully as he slowly made his way to his hands and knees. Some of the glass had punched through the soft armour at his joints, stabbing new wounds in his legs, his elbow…his neck. That one was problematic. Three more guards burst into the room, these ones brandishing horns that pulsed with purple light. The Space Marine practically scrambled to his feet, sending another field of crackling energy around his chevroned Power Fist and raising the Plasma Pistol again. A gauntleted figure decompressed the trigger. “Oh, you have got to be kid-“ He didn’t even have time to chuck the overheating pistol away before it exploded in a flare of light, ripping apart both itself and the first half of Zuko’s left arm. He staggered, blood dripping from where the wound had not fully cauterised in the heat and spraying all over the floor. His ears rang with the sound of the explosion, and had he still been mortal the sight of half one of his bones sticking out from the mangled limb may have rendered him unconscious. As it was, combat-stimms flooded his system, his mind straining against the haze of painkillers. For a moment, a thought of the cigar he’d never finished earlier flashed into his head. It was a shame; that pistol had served him well for years. Though it was just another weapon in the Long War, the sense of its loss was palpable. Zuko bit back his rising anger, instead choosing to direct it at the ponies opposing him. Their shock at the loss of his arm, and the arterial fluid it sprayed when he moved, was their downfall-with one punishing right hook the Iron Warrior crumpled their heads. Vision swimming, he leapt over the corpses before they had hit the ground, running deeper into the crystal castle. The place was a veritable maze, and one not designed for a warrior of Zuko’s stature. His blood left a crimson trail behind him, and he elected to rely on speed more than anything to carry him through safely. This is wrong. Blood of the Primarch, this is no way for an Iron Warrior to fight. He skidded round a corner, using his momentum to knock a crystal unicorn flailing from a window, and tried to focus on the mental map he’d begun to draw up before everything went to hell. The mission dictated he had to keep going down towards the centre, if his navigational instincts were correct, and so Zuko aimed for descending flights of stairs; even in his wounded state he was able to leap down, landing in a kneeling position and often grinding any unlucky Pony beneath his boot. A spear, hurled in desperation, splintered off the front of his horned helmet-missing an eye slit by the narrowest of margins. The Iron Warrior grasped the offending guard by the throat as he charged past, slamming him into a wall and breaking whatever constituted his spine. He kept running, down and down, paying less and less heed as to his exact direction. Eventually, Zuko actually had to squint reflexively as well as in pain as he emerged into the sunlight-having, purely by luck, managed to navigate his way down to the base of the castle. He supposed he was due some of that today. The clamour of betrayal and pursuit could still be heard above him, and even down here the Crystal Ponies that constituted the citizenry of the Empire seemed perturbed by his presence; perhaps more so due to the severed limb. He gave them only the most cursory of glances before disregarding them, turning and sprinting back beneath the towering Crystal castle in search of his true objective. It was clear even to him that the fantastic, burning light he had witnessed earlier was born at this point. Specifically, whatever it was lay between the two spikes of stone-one erupting from the ground, one hanging down from the underside of the castle. As he got closer, the shape of his target became more apparent. It was shorn from what looked to be a peculiar strain of sapphire…crystal. Of course it was crystal. To one of the Ponies, perhaps the Heart would have been of considerable size, but to the Space Marine it seemed little more than a trinket. He cocked his head to the side, wounded body forgotten for a moment, and reached out to take it-ignorant of the attention and gasps his act drew. Surprisingly, for a moment it burned him even through his fist, and he had to shake it to numb the pain as if scalded. Gritting his teeth, the Iron Warrior clamped his talon around it, yanking it from its hold. It fit neatly into his palm. We sacrifice so much, for things so small. He now had no weapons other than his own body, but the effect was still near-instantaneous. The light and shine seemed to be sucked from his surroundings as he ran, a pallor descending over the Empire. Panic came with it, the cry reaching a crescendo as the Ponies seemed to realise what had happened. It would have been curious, had he bothered to stop and look.; the theft of the heart seemed to rip whatever peculiar magic powered the Empire away, subjecting it to the whims of winter. As the snow piled in like a gale, the crystal shine that enchanted the ponies retracted, their bodies devolving to weak flesh all around him. But he saw none of this; Zuko ran for the gate bleeding and fuming, magical blasts from the guards biting at his heels, dragging another kingdom into darkness. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ “Hey, Varviloser, are we there yet?” If there was any tensing in the shoulders of the Iron Warrior at Rainbow’s snide remark, Applejack couldn’t detect it. He did not even slow to acknowledge it, red eyes penetrating the gloom as he took each heavy crashing step into the undergrowth. His brother had already gone ahead, and despite his size Rorke was little more than a shadowy outline hacking his way forward with brutal sweeps of his sword. “Urm, hello, earth to tinhead. I said-“ “I heard you.” The towering warrior replied, the stoniness of his voice enough to coerce even the brash cyan Pegasus into silence. He offered no more exposition, if anything increasing his pace. Hanging behind for a second, rainbow shot a glare at Applejack. The Earth Pony grimaced back, mindful that she’d be getting a berating for agreeing to this later. They’d left that construct of theirs at the outskirts of the Everfree, instead travelling under their own steam through its sinister confines. Even in the middle of the day, the forest was not a place that Applejack relished being. Where once it had been threatening, now it was outright oppressive-ever since the mysterious fire a couple of months ago, of which very little had been officially disclosed to anypony, it’s the once verdant areas were tinged with the grey, ashen reminders of conflagration, and the ground littered with dead sticks. It made every hoof-fall into the litter give a sickening crunch, and not for the first time Applejack considered whether the proffered bits were really worth performing this favour for the Iron Warriors. They were still being downright sketchy on the details-she was used to them being stubborn, could even partially understand it, but this was beyond a joke. She trotted closer to him anyway, grateful for the protection offered if not its source. His armour gave a strange buzz and hum as he walked. The quiet whine was irritating, but it did help offset the unnatural quiet brought about by the lack of birdsong or even wind. “She’s got a point, yah know.” The orange pony said quietly, adjusting her hat as they walked. He did not look down at her, and for a moment she wondered if he maybe hadn’t heard, but she should have known better. “If I wanted you dead, then you would be dead.” He said, apropos of nothing. She flushed, feeling herself tense, but it was not a threat as much as a statement of fact. She sighed, casting another glance around and doing her best to stay out of the shadows thrown by the gnarled, blackened trees. “Now lookee here, ah know y’all are used tah callin’ the shots an’ all, but ‘round here it just ain’t the done thing tah lead honest ponyfolk bobbin’ fer apples lahk this.” She said, trying her best to sound unafraid, and probably failing. “Ah said ah’d help y’all, ah didn’t expect-“ “It would have been a lot easier, as well as probably more forgiving to the sergeant’s blood sugar levels, for us to simply drag some slaves out here to do this for us.” He butt in, speaking slowly. “I heard of your subspecies’ connection with the natural environment, however, and reasoned that there was no harm bringing in more skilled labour. And labour should always be rewarded.” The reply died in her throat at his words, and for a moment she was quiet as they walked. “Y’know, pardner, yah don’t act lahk them other Iron Warriors.” She said at last, softly. Varvillon scoffed, finally looking down at her, although not slowing. “Coming from one of you, I’ll take that as a comple-“ “You’re more lahk a mob boss.” The Space Marine kept his red glare on her for a moment, before returning to following their path. They walked in silence for a while, Rainbow hovering a step behind. It was the butcher that broke the quiet. Rorke came trampling back out from the bushes he had been hacking down, armour returning to its silver sheen rather than a shadowy murk as he stepped into the limited light in the Everfree. His sword was held lazily in his right hand, tip pointed to the ground, and Applejack took a reflexive step back as lightning danced across the blade. Though his face was hidden by the snout-nosed helmet, the Earth Pony could practically see his look of irritation. “It’s there?” Varvillon asked. Rorke’s response was to grunt in what she assumed was the affirmative. They sped up the pace, taking bigger strides into the shadows. Applejack started to join them, when a blue hoof on the shoulder stopped her. Rainbow fixed the farmer with a hard glare. “We can still go back, you know?” She whispered. “We don’t have to let thee guys boss us around.” Applejack looked at her for a moment, grimacing, before shaking her head and gently removing the hoof. “Ah’m sorry, Rainbow. But ah said ah’d do it, so ah’ll do it. Before her friend could argue, she turned and ran to catch up with the two giants. “Oh, and bah the way, ah still wanna know how y’all managed tah get all that money.” She said, pouting a little. Varvillon sighed and made to reply, but surprisingly it was his brother that cut him off. “Colour me fucking curious as well, Varvillon.” He growled, twirling the sword in his hand. “You are a lot of things, but not a legitimate businessman.” Varvillon actually laughed, though it was more akin to the sound of steel being sharpened. “Brother sergeant, Xenos, have a little faith. I acquired the funds in a perfectly reasonable manner.” *** Being the head of Ponyville hospital had its downsides, Doctor Wellwhinny mused. It meant long hours, stressful days, and sometimes having to be the bearer of bad news. But it also meant a sterile working environment, a stable paycheck, and a rare sense of job satisfaction. Luna’s moon was high in the sky as he returned to his office, a contended smile crossing his face as he finally let the tension unwind. It hadn’t been the worst day he’d ever had, all things considered. Golden Harvest had been stung by some insect in her garden and was going full hypochondriac, two colts had come in for foal-flu jabs, one of the Pegasi who worked the market had sprained a wing, and lastly had been local farmer Applejack coming in for a standard check-up. Ah…Applejack. Now there was a mare. Sweet Apple Acres was not too far from the hospital, and on a good day Wellwhinny could see her toiling in the fields from his office. She worked so hard…and so well. From what he observed of her working with hay, the Doctor imagined she was pretty good in it… His thoughts were distracted as the low humming finally reached his ears. It should have been the first indication that something was wrong, but before he could react the door had slammed shut behind him. He turned, seeing two red eyes glaring at him from out of the gloom. He couldn’t even scream as the lights were flicked on. How the two towering aliens had managed to both sneak in and conceal themselves in his office, standing either side of the door, was lost on Wellwhinny. How they even fit was a mystery, but it was a conundrum for another time as they stared down at him. Surprisingly, there were two; the first, with the glowing eyes, wore fairly unadorned armour. The second had no helmet, although his armour was swrathed in dark grey robes. A teacup levitated in front of him-he brought it up to his mouth, tilting it and taking a sip. “Good evening.” He said, in a cheery and peculiarly upper-class voice. “Sorry to burst in on you like this and what, but expediency is I’m afraid an issue here.” “We’re not robbing you.” Said the other, helmeted one, bluntly. “Certainly not.” His brother agreed, frowning. “Not even threatening.” “Damn rummy business, robbery.” “Although…” the helmeted one said, tilting his head to the side. “If, Gods forbid, we did want to rob him, what could we do Mordecai?” “Well brother, if I really had too, I suppose it would not be an impossibility for me to consider reaching out with a portion of my psychic power and crushing our friend here’s skeleton.” Mordecai said, sounding managing to sound genuinely regretful. They lapsed into hush, looking down at the Doctor. Up to the point, Wellwhinny had done little but stammer silently in dumb confusion and fear, eyes wide. It took him a moment to find his voice. “N-now, I’m sure we can reach some form of…arrangement.” He said, chuckling slightly in panic. The helmeted Iron Warrior nodded, whilst Mordecai clapped his hands together in seeming delight. “Indeed we can. Isn’t it nice when everyone co-operates?” Helmet asked, fumbling with his belt. His efforts met with the producing of a brown sack, which he held out in front of him. “Now then, as a licenced professional, we were hoping you’d consider making a small donation-“ “-not robbery.” His brother stressed again. “To the Fourth Legion Charity fund.” He finished, nodding his head. “It’s all going to a good cause, I swear on our Legion’s honour.” It took him a moment to catch on. “Y…You’re robbing a hospital?” the Doctor asked, incredulously. The Iron Warriors sighed in unison. “We’ve just been over this.” “Do try and keep up, old sport.” “We’re not robbing you, we’re asking for a donation.” He insisted, shaking the proffered bag. “Think of it as a celebration of newfound solidarity and co-operation.” His mind was racing whilst he tried to find a loophole. “But I don’t have any money on me?” he tried. “Oh, not to worry.” Mordecai said. “Why, I’m sure you wouldn’t be averse to dipping a little into this marvellous establishment’s rainy day coffers.” Clearly, they were not leaving, nor were they in much mood to negotiate. Gulping, the Doctor turned and padded towards his desk on shaking hooves. He reached down and began to fumble with the locks on the safe stashed into one of the built-in cupboards. “You keep the money in your desk?” the armoured one asked behind him. Wellwhinny froze, but did not turn. “It makes for…ease of access.” He said, in a small voice. When they didn’t reply, he judged it was to allow him to continue. He managed to flip it open, revealing a caseload of hundreds of bits. In hindsight, keeping it all in his office was a tad foolish, but until now he’d never considered the prospect of being effectively mugged by two alien super-soldiers. Without having to even touch them, the bits were telekinetically pulled from the safe and dropped into the bag. The Doctor turned back to them as Mordecai stretched a wrist out. The other one nodded, tying the bag closed and swinging it over his shoulder. “Thanks.” He said, turning to leave. He stopped in the doorframe after flipping the lights off, turning back to look at the Pony. His eyes were two pits of fire. “Oh, and best keep this our little secret for the time being. We’ll get your commemorative plaque sorted soon enough. We’ll be seeing you soon enough.” Then they left, leaving the Doctor alone with only his rapidly beating heart for company. *** The party reached its destination in short order, just as Rorke had promised. The two Ponies stopped dead, whilst the Iron Warriors looked out with either approval or contempt. This area of the forest was not as blackened as the others, and from the green clinging to the grove’s outskirts it was clear the fire had perhaps not reached here. That green was contrasted with the wave of blue that stretched out along the ground; a blue the two Equestrians recognised instantly. “Poison Joke!” Rainbow cried, gritting her teeth. “It’s a set up, I told you! Come on AJ, the evidence is pretty bucking clear!” “Y’all know that this stuff puts a curse on yah, right?” the orange pony asked, casting a sidewards glance at the Iron Warrior. “By my sensors reckoning, the narcotic element of this plant is ready for harvest.” Varvillon explained flatly. “You Earth Ponies have a connection with the natural world, we’ve been informed. Collect it all for us, and the money is yours.” “Earth Pony?” Rainbow asked, practically spitting her words at them. “Then what am I, huh?” The Space Marine looked at her. “Two for the price of one.” She looked like she was about to explode, and Applejack took it upon herself to intervene. “An’ may ah ask what y’all will be doin’ while we slave away for ya?” she asked, raising an eyebrow suspiciously. Varvillon just looked at her, whilst Rorke laughed, drumming his fingers on the handle of the sword. “Do we look like fucking farmers?” That seemed to be the last word on the matter. Applejack stared at them for a moment longer anyway, searching for some reprieve or leeway; as usual, the blank stare of their helmets gave her none. Unable to stop herself pouting a little as she reaffixed her hat, Applejack turned her back to them and, with a heavy sigh, began to pad towards the fields of blue. Rainbow, apparently, was having none of it. “Uh uh, no way.” The Pegasus said firmly, floating to hover in front of her friend. “Not gonna happen, AJ. I am NOT going through being called ‘Rainbow Crash’ again. Besides, I still say that working for these guy isn’t cool…” “If ah get cursed again, then ahm sure Twahlaght or Zecora can just whip us up some of that there potion.” Applejack replied, neutrally. Behind her one of the Iron Warriors coughed, but she gave it no thought. You don’t have tah help me, Rainbow, but even if these guys ain’t bein’ honest with us then shoot, ah won’t have the same said about me.” Before the Pegasus could reply she pushed back, heading into the field of flowers. Rainbow lingered for a moment, seemingly on the precipice between despair and anger. Finally though, her status as the element of Loyalty seemed to win through, and she followed the Earth Pony-though it was not free from disgruntled muttering. Even for such a relatively compacted area, it was hard work. The Poison Joke was a delicate little flower, and it took all of the pair’s skill to avoid being hexed once again. Predictably, Rainbow displayed considerably less care towards the task than Applejack did, seemingly rushing in an attempt to get it done. The orange pony was more methodical; in lieu of anywhere to store the collected plants, and with the Space Marines being as uncommunicative as ever, she elected to pile them up in a heap. The result looked more akin to the beginnings of a bonfire than a resource, but it was good enough. After about an hour and a half of solid work the pair were done-the collection of flowers at least half as tall as one of the Iron Warriors. “Well, that’s the last of ‘em.” Applejack said, breathing heavily as she trotted over towards Varvillon. He looked down at her, then at the pile. “Good.” He said, as if that settled the matter. “Now go and stand over there, and don’t say anything stupid.” Getting dragged into the middle of the Everfree Forest and forced to perform tedious, gruelling work just to be called stupid was more than Applejack could take. She frowned, before gritting her teeth and reddening deeply, but any angry outburst was forestalled by a rustling in the bushes. The pair of Ponies fell back a little, casting furtive glances at one another as the three shapes emerged into the clearing to stand before the Iron Warriors. They were hunched and canine, knuckles dragging on the ground and a foul cloud misting before beady eyes. The gems on their collars somehow still managed to sparkle. “Diamond Dogs.” Rainbow hissed, looking again at her friend. “How the buck did the Iron Warriors find them?” “Ah’m not sure we want tah know.”- Applejack said, forestalling any attempt at an explanation. The tallest Dog, a grey furred creature with a red jacket that Applejack remembered from the whole fiasco with Rarity stepped forwards, looking up at Varvillon with green eyes. The red-eyed Astartes stared back down at the creature, who seemed curiously unafraid of the giant before him. “Not usual to meet in middle of forest.” He grumbled, eyeing the silver warrior suspiciously. “We were hardly going to meet you on anything other than our terms.” Varvillon explained, voice without emotion. “And besides, this makes the whole dealing process easier.” There was some more grumbling and awkward shuffling from the two Dogs behind him, but Red-Jacket just scowled. “Fine. Show me, show me.” He said in his scratchy voice. The Iron Warriors parted, letting the trio take a look at miniature mountain of blue that lay before them. The Diamond Dog’s pupils visibly dilated as their mouths dropped open, hungry drools leaving their lips. Applejack and Rainbow slowly backed off, trying not to get caught up in this. They were not quick enough-Red-Jacket spotted them, eyes narrowing. Fortunately, he didn’t seem to recognise them, but he still kicked up a fuss. “Why you bring Pony?” he growled, casting a viperous look at the Iron Warriors. “Ponies was not part of the deal.” “They had value to me.” Varvillon grunted. The Dog seemed to take that at face value, and returned his attention to the pile of Poison Joke. He licked his lips eagerly. “Not much to smoke in the mines, heh heh.” The Dog cackled idiotically. “Very good to have all these spares. And it goes for at least as much as gems, oh yes, maybe more.” “Don’t need a life story, Xenos.” Rorke drawled. Varvillon let him finish before taking a step towards the canines. “We have fulfilled our end of the bargain.” He told them, hand resting on the grip of his large gun. “Now, what have you got for us?” Red-Jacket looked at him for a moment, eyes wide. His ears drooped up and down against the top of his head. Then, with a click of his fingers, he summoned the largest of his two companions. The Dog produced a roll of paper, warily offering it to Varvillon. The Iron Warrior ripped it from his grip, beginning to unravel it. “They write Gothic?” Rorke snorted derisively. “Apparently so.” Varvillon replied. Another statement seemed to be coming, but it died as he unravelled the paper and stared down at it. Applejack couldn’t see what was written, but for once the Space Marine went utterly still. Even his brother was motionless. “Bloody fuck.” Rorke muttered. Varvillon stared at the paper for a moment more, then looked back at the Dogs. “This was in the mountains?” he asked, and despite the distortion from his helmet the Iron Warriors’ voice was unusually quiet. The Dogs nodded in their usual, hyperactive manner. “And you’re certain this is what it said?” he continued. Again, they nodded. Varvillon took a deep sigh. He folded the paper and slot it into a pouch on his belt. “Thank you for your contribution. The Fourth Legion is not unappreciative.” It was subtle, but Applejack just managed to catch the tiny inclination of his head. Diamond Dogs were deceptively nimble, but Rorke was lightning. The Iron Warrior struck out with a roar, the sword that had moments before been held lazily now drawn in a sweeping curve. It sliced clean through Red-Jacket’s neck before his face even had a chance to contort in confusion, sending the head sailing away. The spray of jetting blood daubed the front of his armour an arterial crimson, some of it fizzling from the blade of his energised sword. He stepped forwards and brought his knee up, crashing it into the largest Dog’s chin. The sound of a neck snapping was audible as his head jolted back, and the body dropped limply to the floor. The last of the Dogs, the smallest, wisely chose to turn and flee. Rorke stopped for a moment, eyes locked on his target, before unsheathing and raising his pistol. The sound of a gun’s report echoed through the forest air, and the Dog just had time to scream before the bullet exploded within him and reduced his body to a shower of fleshy chunks. Applejack’s mind was gone, mind temporarily whitewashed by the scene of slaughter before her. It took a lot to unman the Pony, and she’d seen the Iron Warriors in action before, but what had just happened was not a battle. It was an execution. Even Rainbow Dash was cowed, the only words leaving her lips “Mother of Celestia…” in an unnerved whisper. “You shouldn’t have used the gun.” Varvillon sighed, standing over the bodies. “It was not needed, and we may have been heard.” Rorke’s response was to turn to him and growl unintelligibly. Varvillon returned the glare, before nudging the headless corpse with a foot. “Collect the skulls then, I know you’re into things like that. Then load them on the pile.” He pivoted back, and seemed to look at AJ as if only just remembering her and Rainbow were here. He was silent for a moment. “The money is still at your farm.” Was his justification. “Run home.” Applejack was not a cowardly mare. Far from it; she’d faced Gods and demons, plus a corrupted Princess of Equestria herself, had climbed to a Dragon’s lair, baited Timberwolves, and more besides. But when he spoke, she complied, turning tail and galloping off as fast as her hooves could carry her. Rainbow was not far behind, even her brash attitude failing her as her wings strained to fly faster. The Iron Warriors did not follow, but the sound of smoke and fire from behind them minutes later was all they needed to know. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- LORKHAN. The word streamed across the retina screen within his helmet, shaking the Warsmith from his reverie. Lorkhan cast a glance around the blackened command deck, before remembering it was pointless; even if the source of those words was actually in here, it was unlikely to reveal itself. LORKHAN. What remained of the deck was much as it always was, a lightless place filled with cracked computer terminals and sparking holomaps. It was unusual to find more than 3 or 4 Iron Warriors here at a time, but now it was just Lorkhan that sat there in the shadows. Even Vortun had gone, though he didn’t know where. For a moment, he was unsure how to reply. He drummed his fingers on the armrest of his sunken throne, shifting slightly where he lounged. He considered speaking, but even Lorkhan knew that talking to himself would send the wrong message. Shut up. Go away. A headache started to tingle behind his eyes as he thought the words, and for a moment it seemed to be for nothing as no reply was forthcoming. The Warsmith fidgeted again, not sure how to proceed. YOU SUMMONED ME. The words were merely that; words. Yet, something in them almost seemed to slither across his brain. Had he kept more of his flesh down the millennia, Lorkhan may well have shuddered. No. I gave you a plaything, and I intend to put you to use. At no point does that require conversing with you. No words appeared on his screen, but Lorkhan got the distinct impression he was being laughed at. USE ME. AM I YOUR TOY. AM I STILL BURDENED. Yes. I keep you locked up down there for a reason. How is our guest? HIS SCREAMS SUSTAIN ME. Lorkhan drummed his fingers again. For the ten minutes he had known him, Discord had been nothing more than an infuriating ass, but even he didn’t deserve to be left at the mercy of the Burdened. Sympathy had long since been ground for the Warsmith, along with pity, but a sliver of bad feeling for the Draconequus flared up for the briefest second. Don’t damage him too much. You think his soul will work? USIRIEN LORKHAN. SO QUICK TO QUESTION. SO SLOW TO PROVIDE. The lord of the Iron Warriors gritted what remained of the teeth underneath his half-skull helmet. Do not question me. We are not equal partners, Ch’zar’ako. The screen flickered with static for a moment, and the tendrils slowly gripping his mind writhed slightly as the Daemon recoiled at its true name. It pained Lorkhan too, to think it-though perhaps not as much as it should. HE WILL SUFFICE. Good. You’re going in, too. ONE SLIP UP IN THE PROCESS AND YOU ARE MINE. YOUR SOUL IS TAINTED ENOUGH. The Daemon had a point. “Would you like to be whole again, Ch’zar’ako?” Lorkhan whispered to the dark, words almost lost within his helmet. Once again, it took a few minutes for a reply to formulate. YES. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The painkillers had worn off a while ago. Every trudging step was carried by bloody minded determination, as well as the desire to see his arm whole once more. The blood from the burnt stump was somehow still dripping out, leaving a trail in the snow behind. Once more, the wind lashed against Zuko’s armour as he tried to make his way through the fields of ice. Retracing his steps back towards town was not the problem; even with the disorienting pain that threatened to make him stumble and veer off course despite all his training to suppress it, he still possessed an Astartes’ eidetic memory. It was the sheer melting pot of events that made Zuko’s pace depressingly slow. He had long since stopped thinking about it, filtering all memories out as he focused on putting one foot in front of the other, but he couldn’t stop himself fuming on the inside. The Crystal Heart he held clamped between the talons of his power fist was the most poignant reminder. It no longer glowed, seeming to be nothing more than a chunk of dumb rock in his hand. He didn’t even look at it any more, refusing to bring it to eye level and shelter himself from the elements. Something hit him on the leg. It was only a light touch, barely a glance, and for a moment he thought it was just his arm wound playing up. It took a second, slightly harder impact to stop him. When he turned, the Iron Warrior groaned internally-but he wasn’t surprised. The three little ponies-yellow, white and orange-stood in the blizzard, glaring up at him as they shivered. It was the white one that stood at the front, eyes almost burning as she stared at Zuko whilst assembling another snowball. “Why are you still wearing that?” Sweetie Belle said, hostility dripping from her voice. Zuko may have been IV Legion, but even he was surprised by the bitterness. He adjusted the tattered red cape on his shoulders. Great tears had opened in it where shards of glass had stabbed through. He considered telling them he had forgotten he was wearing it…but there had been enough deception today. He was enough of an Iron Warrior to appreciate that. “It’s cold.” He said, voice perfectly moderate. “I’m resistant to weather, but it never hurts to make sure.” “Ah thought you were mah friend!” Applebloom snapped, seemingly having to physically restrain herself. “Ah thought ah could trust you, that you weren’t lahk the others!” “My loyalty is to the Legion.” He said simply. “I told you that well enough. Strangely, we’re not the most diplomatic of fellows.” “You were better than them!” Sweetie screamed, flinging the snowball at him. This one managed to strike his chest plate. “You said your Legion had changed, that you wanted to be a hero! You WERE a hero…you were a hero to me.” Her voice grew quieter, cracking with emotion and tears. The wind around them was fierce, yet Zuko still heard her sniffles. “All those things you told me…all that about wanting to be a good guy…was any of it true?” She looked up at him, biting her lip in anger. “Did you mean a single thing you said?” He was motionless for a time. “Yes.” He said at last. “I meant every word.” “So now what?” Scootaloo spat, taking her eyes off the stump of his arm. “Are you gonna kill us too, like you killed Cadence?” He sighed, realising the question had been inevitable. “No.” “What then?” The Pegasus said, stamping a hoof. “Are you just gonna leave us?” “If I take you back, you will reveal what I have done. If I kill you, too many questions will be raised. Yes, Scootaloo. I am going to leave you here.” “And that doesn’t bother you in the slightest, does it?” she asked, scornfully. “No.” The Iron Warrior lied. Sweetie Belle stared at him for a moment, green eyes trembling as tears rolled down her cheek and froze. “I thought you were better than them.” She said again, looking to the ground and shaking her head in despair. “You were my friend, Zuko. I don’t care what species or…or Legion you are. I loved you as much as any other friend.” She squinted harder, sniffling to try and stop herself crying more. “But you’re not any better. You’re all the same, you’re all monsters. And…and I hope you all die!” She squealed, furious eyes burrowing into him as she looked up. “I hope every last one of you dies!” For a moment, even Zuko seemed taken aback by the violence in her words. His response was to nod. “So do I.” he replied, and despite the steel in his tone the melancholy that lurked behind it was unmistakeable. He turned and began to walk before they could question what he meant, moving at a more hurried pace than he’d like to admit. His footsteps left deep impressions in the snow, and the blood stained every one red.