//------------------------------// // Let Loose the Dragon of War // Story: The Dragon and the Force // by FenrisianBrony //------------------------------// Spike was silent as he walked forward, his gaze fixed on the jungle before him. The rest of the Special Forces were formed up beside and behind him, helmets, coolant packs and extra rebreathers firmly attached to their armour, making sure that they were not reliant on oxygen in the air to keep fighting, which was good, because soon, there would be little left. Behind them was every unengaged unit the Republic could spare. Tanks, infantry, walkers, robots, everything Spike could imagine. In the air, fighters duelled with Basilisks, vying for air superiority. He hadn’t spoken to Meetra before leaving, but word had got around camp quickly that that Special Forces were moving out en-mass, and when Spike had marched out, others had marched with him. Truth be told, he didn’t care if Meetra had ordered them to follow him or not, he would have done this even if he had to do it alone. “Spike, would you stop and think about this for a second?” Tarhal grabbed hold of Spike’s arm as he walked, his voice muffled by the armoured hazard suit that covered every inch of him. “Time for talk is over,” Spike snarled back, pulling his arm free from Tarhal’s grip, barely breaking stride. “Now is the exact time for talk!” Tarhal roared, moving in front of Spike and placing both hands on his chest, putting all his weight into the dragon, trying to stop him, but only succeeding in slowing him down. “We will fight the Mandalorians, but you are not ready! You need to think about this, hundreds will die!” “Thousands,” Spike corrected him, before grabbing Tarhal’s arm and moving him to one side. “But the Mandalorians die today.” “Let the robots go first then,” Tarhal pleaded. “You’re going to start a fire and then march men through it, and for what?” “For Corinna!” Spike roared back, glaring at Tarhal. “For her, and for Asho, and for Parn, and for everyone else slaughtered by the Mandalorians. I can’t end it everywhere, but I will end it here, now, today.” “We can’t do it, Spike,” Tarhal shook his head. “We just can’t.” “You can’t,” Spike snapped. “Go, run to the back, fight with the Padawans, I’m sure Katara will show you what a backbone looks like.” Tarhal looked like he wanted to respond to that, before letting out a snarl and turning, stalking away from Spike. Spike didn’t even turn to watch him go, instead holding up a fist. As one, the army behind him stopped, the front rank bringing their flamethrowers into position, the sound of fuel being pumped from the tanks on their backs easily audible to Spike’s enhanced ears. Normally the rain that almost always fell on the planet would have made burning the jungle difficult, but Spike had ensured that the flame units were filled with sticky fuel, ensuring that nothing would survive the cleansing. With a roar that shook the branches of the jungle, Spike added a gout of his own flame dousing the trees before him in fire. Taking this as a signal, those armed with flame weapons opened fire as well, and with a surge of heat, the jungle began to burn. Spike poured his anger into the roar, and into the flames, breathing magic into the fire, increasing the ferocity of it tenfold. In short order, the first part of the jungle was burning from root to tree top, branches falling to the floor as Spike took a step forward, swinging his head this way and that, making sure he burnt as much as possible. His men had to wait as the flames died down slightly before they could continue on, but Spike had no such qualms about walking through the smoky hell he had just brought into life, still burning branches occasionally falling and bouncing off his scales and bionics. He could feel the heat beginning to rise all around him as he walked deeper and deeper into the jungle, warnings starting to appear in his bionic eye, before he deactivated them with barely a thought. He had swum in lava for fun once, though he could barely remember such care free days. Now all he could think of was his prey, and how to cause them as much pain as possible before sending them screaming into the abyss. It didn’t take long for him to reach the final marker point he had programed into his mapping function, and allowed himself to look back for the first time. The jungle immediately behind him was ablaze, smoke rising high into the air, forcing anything in the air to divert away from it. Further back, the flames had burnt the trees to a crisp, leaving little but blackened stumps, forming a corridor in between the fire as it spread to the sides. It would probably be incredibly difficult to stop this fire now it had started, but all Spike cared about was the progress of the army. Special Forces advanced quickly, their weapons ready for anything as they tried to peer through the smoke, their helmets sensors able to pick out things normal eyes wouldn’t have a hope of seeing. Behind them, tanks and infantry carriers advanced, ferrying the first wave of soldiers through the hell they had created. Turning back around, Spike set off again, breaking into a run as he went, setting trees alight, and when the fire didn’t burn them quick enough, his Lightsabers made short work of the remains. The hunger for battle began to overwhelm his system, and a familiar voice echoed in his head. Faster, get to grips with them now, make them suffer, make them scream, make them bleed and die. “Oh I intend to,” Spike snorted. “But me, not you.” Why not me? You said yourself you do not care how many die, let me free and I can destroy the Mandalorians. You know I can. “But I want to do it,” Spike cackled darkly. “This is my mission, my revenge.” His voice began to rise as he ran faster and faster, the distance counter rushing towards zero. For the first time, he saw Mandalorian warriors, the distinctive armour visible through the smoke. They were standing atop of tall metal wall, easily double Spike’s height, and as he got closer, they began to point him out, calling for others to sound the alarm, before aiming their rifles in his direction. Light blaster fire slammed into Spikes chest and arms, but he barely even slowed, glancing up at them and locking three targets into his droid brain. Acting on autopilot, his gun arm swung up, three shots leaping from the barrel and striking the Mandalorians dead in the centre of their T-Visors. Turning his flames on the wall, Spike gave it everything he had, the dark silver turning orange, then red, before turning a brilliant white. “My prey! My kills! Mine! All, Mine!” With a final roar, Spike dived at the wall, wrapping his wings around him as he hit the semi-liquid metal. He was barely slowed as the metal spewed out around him, the surrounding parts of wall collapsing as the weight of the top was no longer supported by the rest of it. Mandalorians screamed in agony, but Spike didn’t look back, instead unfolding his wings and looking around. Time seemed to slow as his droid brain took over briefly, scanning the battlefield and highlighting targets, hundreds of them, all ready for the slaughter. As time returned to its normal speed, Spike blurred into motion, his Lightsabers activated and his gun charged. Operating on autopilot, Spike pushed into the Mandalorian base, scattering the warriors who thought that the forest and their walls would discourage attackers from attacking at that angle. He barely had to think as his gun arm and his brain worked in sync, acquiring, targeting and killing Mandalorians, before beginning the cycle again, which left Spike’s mind open to taking full control of his biological arm, his Lightsaber lashing out and cleaving Mandalorians with every blow. Duck, strike left, uppercut slash. Spike didn’t hesitate, dropping his head and spinning Dusk, before slashing upwards, cutting deep into the armour of one of the Goliath-class war droids the Mandalorians used. The Goliath was nowhere near a Basalisk in terms of roar power, but it was still dangerous, and its heavy sword presented a problem to most targets, even to Spike. Luckily, its armour was not as good as its offense, and Spike’s Lightsaber easily went through it, ripping out through the top of its head in a puff of superheated oil vapour. The droid fell back to the floor in two halves, Spike stepping through the falling machine, only to have something heavy slam into his chest, sending him flying backwards. I must have missed that one. “Yeah, no shit,” Spike groaned, pushing himself to his feet again as he looked at the damage done to his chest, the outer layer of his armour was stripped away in a ragged hole, exposing the more vulnerable bionics below. “Get your head in the game and spot targets.” Let me out, and I’ll do better. “You’re not coming out,” Spike snarled, before setting off at a sprint, heading towards the cannon that had fired at him. Smoke was beginning to fill the battlefield, the fire raging in the burning jungle behind him spewing out enough to blot out the sky, and it was already beginning to descend. Soon, it would be hard to see more than a few meters around you without sensor data. Spike knew that he could fight in those conditions, as could the Special Forces when they finally got here, and the Mandalorians certainly could, but the rest of the army would struggle. The fight needed to end, sooner rather than later. Just before Spike reached the cannon, it exploded in a fierce fireball. Spike hissed as pieces of shrapnel peppered his body and face, and he quickly turned to protect his remaining eye. As the fireball disappeared, Spike turned to find what had destroyed the gun, his eyes instantly focusing on a large tank. Mandalorian tanks. Spike whirled around at the warning, leaping into a run as two Mandalorian tanks rolled through the smoke, both of their turrets moving round to aim at the Republic one. Letting out a roar, Spike jumped into the air, using his wings to control his leap so he landed on top of one of the tanks. Cutting a hole in the hull, Spike tucked his wings into his body, before dropping through the hole. It took him only a moment to slaughter the crew, those inside having nowhere to run as he cut them apart. Hurry up. Leaping out of the tank, Spike dived towards the other one, before the cannon fired, and the back blast of air knocked him off course, forcing him to divert to land away from the tank. Looking round, he saw the Republic tank in ruins, smoke pouring from the top hatch and adding to the smoke already filling the air. The wreck was now plugging the gap in the wall, stopping any more vehicles getting into the base, even as troops finally began to stream in, and finally coming up with an answer to the Mandalorian fire. Snarling, Spike turned his attention back towards the tank, focusing his magic into the barrel of the tank and doing his best to bend it upwards. The cannon creaked, and slowly started to buckle, before Spike shot out a stream of fire, the metal heating up and softening, allowing Spike to bend the cannon upwards at almost ninety degrees. Running up to the side of the declawed war machine, he stabbed forward with both Lightsabers, cutting a thin line into the hull, before grabbing it with his claws. His muscles and bionics screamed in protest, but he managed to create a small hole. “Burn my tank, I’ll burn you,” he laughed cruelly, before taking a deep breath in and spewing fire through the small tear. Smoke immediately began to billow from the vehicle, and Spike took a few steps back to watch his handy work. Soldiers were running up to him as the top hatch opened, a burning man screaming as he pulled himself out, dropping to the floor and writhing in the dirt, followed by a second, and a third. One of the soldiers went to fire his rifle, before Spike flagged him down, his lips twisting into a leer. “Let them burn. They deserve the pain.” “Sir?” the soldier asked uncertainly. “I said we let them burn,” Spike snapped, rounding on the soldier. “Do you have a problem with that?” “It’s cruel!” the soldier shouted, looking at the other soldiers. The men exchanged glances, before they raised their rifles, firing at the screaming Mandalorians. Spike blurred into action, blocking some of the shots with his Lightsabers, but enough got through to kill the Mandalorians. Instantly, Spikes anger rose tenfold, and he dived at the man, letting out a feral snarl. Just before he grabbed hold of him, he was knocked to the side, skidding into the dirt and carving a deep furlough into the ground. It took him a few moments to get his bearings again, shaking his head, before looking around, absolute fury filling his eye as he searched for what had hit him. “Spike.” The one word, and the voice that spoke it, took the fury right out of Spike as he peered through the smoke, focusing on the small mare that was standing by the soldiers. She was not like he remembered, the green coat that was once bright and vibrant was now dull and matted, large bruises showing through some of the thinner patches of fur. Her mane was equally as bedraggled, knots marring the usually perfect hair. “Moonstone?” Spike croaked, pushing himself up. “Yes,” She nodded weakly, swaying from side to side. “It’s…” For the second time in as many minutes, Spike was thrown to the side, pain erupting in the side of his head as warning lights burst into life. He recovered quicker this time, looking up in time to see a fist slamming into his face. Bionics shattered as he staggered back, trying to see his opponent. He expected to see another Goliath, or even a Mandallian Giant. Instead, he saw his own fist rising up, his brain working to process the information it was getting as he was knocked backwards again, falling to the floor hard. “D-Desolation?” he asked, his voice slurring slightly as his vision swam in and out of focus. The dragon before Spike looked almost exactly like Spike had, once upon a time, way back before the Mandalorian Wars broke out. There was no metal fused to his skin, no scars marring his scales. Instead, muscles rippled beneath his skin, far beyond anything Spike had ever had, and his claws and fangs were much longer and sharper, and when combined with his bright yellow eyes, made him look much more feral than Spike had ever been. “What, you think only the bitch can manifest like this?” Desolation sneered, standing over Spike, before turning and looking back at Moonstone. “I’ll address you later.” As he spoke, Moonstone shrank back, her tail tucking in tight to her body as fear wrote itself across her face. Using Desolations momentary distraction, Spike lashed out with his foot, aiming for Desolations knee. If Desolation was anywhere near as strong as he was, Spike knew it would take everything he had to put Desolation out of action. The blow connected, and Spike waited for the feedback from his bionics from hitting the solid target, before he overbalanced himself, the kick passing harmlessly through Desolation. “Nice try,” Desolation smirked, stepping back as Spike sprawled across the floor again, before lashing out with his foot. Spike flew backwards from the kick, moving a split second before the kick actually connected, slamming into the burning wreck of the Republic tank and groaning. A few soldiers ran over to him, looking around in confusion for what had thrown Spike, even as Desolation advanced towards him, moving on all fours at a leisurely pace, and savouring the thrill of toying with his prey. “Fire on that thing,” Spike panted, groaning as he tried to regain control over his left leg, wire sticking out of the cybernetic. “On what, Sir?” one of the soldiers asked, looking around in confusion and peering through the smoke. “That!” Spike roared, before cursing and diving into a roll as Desolation threw a punch at him. There was no sound from the punch, but Spike didn’t have time to think about that, getting to his feet and getting ready to fight, aiming blow after blow at Desolation, putting everything he had into his attack. His punches dented the thick armour of the tank when he connected, the soldiers letting out cries of alarm and scattering, while Desolation simply stood still and chuckled, getting back onto his hind legs and standing head height with Spike. “Come on, you can do better,” Desolation sneered, gesturing with his hand for Spike to continue to attack him, even as Spikes attacks passed straight through him like he wasn’t there. “Why, won’t, you, die?” Spike roared, unleashing a gout of fire at Desolation, the other dragon simply parting the flames with his hands, before clenching a fist. Spike found himself unable to move as he was lifted off the ground, a yellow haze surrounding him, before he was slammed into the ground like a rag doll. “Don’t you get it?” Desolation snarled, repeatedly slamming Spike into the ground and the tank. “You can’t hurt me Spike, you can’t beat me. I’m in your head! I know what you think, I am what you think, and you have got a vivid imagination.” Thrusting both his hands forward, Desolation tossed Spike across the base like a ragdoll, his left arm tearing free and landing far out of Spike’s grasp. His legs kicked weakly and ineffectively as half of his vision faded to black, his replacement eye failing as Desolation walked towards him again. “You’re old news, Spike,” Desolation looked down at him, disgust openly written across his face. “All dried up and past his prime. Time to step down and let the new guy play. Do you want to know something funny, Spike? Something that that bitch, Twilight would probably know? Lions?” Spike tried to get up, only for Desolation to aim a compressed ball of magic at his chest, knocking him painfully back to the floor. “Do you know anything about Lions, Spike?” Desolation continued. “You know what happens where the head lion gets killed by a younger lion? They all go straight into heat. Maybe when you’re dead and gone and I have your body I’ll make a stop by that little Padawan of yours.” “Don’t you dare, don’t you touch her!” Spike roared, his anger forcing him to his feet as he stuck out his remaining arm, launching a bolt of magic at Desolation. For the first time, Desolation was forced to take a step backwards, before he grinned and recovered. Spike launched another bolt of magic, intent on pressing his advantage, but Desolation simply launched his own bolt, the green and yellow magic colliding in the air and disappearing. “Ooh, temper temper Spike. You could poke someone’s eye out like that. In fact…” Desolation snarled as he leapt forward, and magical version of his claws surrounding his arm, making them bigger and sharper than before. Spike only just managed to turn his head, protecting his eye as the magical claws dug into his head, parting his scales like they were paper. Pain lanced through Spikes head as he saw a tiny bit of grey flesh spiral away from his head. The loss of a small part of his brain wasn’t the only thing that happened though, as Desolation let out a scream of his own, far more terrible that Spikes was, seemingly encountering true pain for the first time as he staggered back, clutching his own head where a wound had opened up, yellow light shining out from it. Spike managed a small smile as pieces suddenly clicked together, and he pushed himself to his feet once more, staggering as he tried to use his left arm that was no longer there to steady him. “You’re…in my head…are you?” he coughed, bringing his claw up to the exposed part of his brain and poking his claw into the squishy surface. The pain was incredible, but when compared to being blown apart, it was bearable. Desolation on the other hand clearly didn’t see it that way, and let out another wail of pain as a tear opened up on his chest, more light shining through it. “You want to take my body, to take my life?!” Spike roared, advancing towards Desolation, his mind desperately working to figure out a way to keep this advantage going without killing him in the process. “This is my life, Desolation! Pain, and suffering! You are a child, grasping at things you couldn’t hope to understand and are not ready for.” “You’re a relic,” Desolation snarled, his face contorted in in a mixture of rage and agony. “You don’t deserve the life you have!” “I don’t deserve a lot of things, but they’re what I’ve got,” Spike laughed, his mood fluctuating wildly between ecstasy and misery as he pulled out a bit more of his own brain. More tears opened up across Desolation’s body, the dragon falling to the floor and rolling around in pain, as Spike finally clicked on a plan. It was a simple one, and Spike should have probably thought of it earlier, but in his defence he was missing half of his brain. “Backing up…memory cores,” he grunted, forcing his bionic brain to work overtime as it inloaded data as fast as he could from his biological brain. As he spoke, he turned back to Desolation and sneered. “Play time’s over junior.” With that, he plunged his hand into his head, working his claws around the brain, making sure to grab hold of everything. He couldn’t describe the feeling of having something clawing at his brain, but he forced himself not to think about it so he didn’t lose his nerve. “Any last words, Desolation?” “I’m going to kill you!” Desolation roared, his flight or fight instinct giving him the strength to get to his feet as he sprang at Spike. “And then I’m going to kill everyone you ever cared about!” “No, you’re not.” With a roar of determination and fear, Spike ripped his hand from his head, his brain coming with it. Every nerve in his body instantly felt like it had caught fire and been doused in ice simultaneously. Memories slammed into him like a physical blow as he collapsed to his knees, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Everything was jumbled up as he saw snippets of his past fused into one. Applejack raised him from birth after Lyra hatched him, while in another memory he threw Fluttershy at Discord to stop him from stealing the love from Equestria. Nothing made sense to him, but he kept his nerve as he starred at Desolation, the dragon screaming at the top of his lungs as more and more beams of light tore out of his body. With a final roar, Spike closed his claws, crushing the brain to pulp in his hand, before falling backwards. The yellow light grew until it was blindingly bright, before suddenly disappearing. Everything seemed eerily quiet now, and Spike managed to sit upright, looking around in a daze. Soldiers were running back and forth, but none of them seemed to be firing. Did that mean the battle was over? Had they won? Had they lost? Without being able to hear anything, Spike couldn’t tell. Staggering to his feet, Spike took an unsteady step forward, swaying uncontrollably, and crashing to his knees more than once, before continuing on. He didn’t know why he was moving this way, but a memory told him he should, and so he followed it. Soon, he found why he had come this way, and bent down, picking up his severed bionic arm and holding it loosely. He starred at it for a long time, before he felt a hand press against his back. Whirling around, he saw a Wookie and two female humans, one tall and one smaller, clearly younger. All three of their mouths were moving, and Spike knew he should have recognised all of them, but every time he thought he had grasped at their names they seemed to slip through his claws. The silence was almost deafening as Spike concentrated hard on their mouths, following the movements with his own mouth, as he finally heard something again. “S-S-S-Spi-ke?” he repeated, and with that, sound came crashing back over him like a wave. “Spike? What happened?” The wookie asked. Tarhal? “Master, your arm!” the one he seemed to remember as Katara cried out, scanning his arm and the broken socket it had been torn from. “Just wait, we’ll get you medical treatment.” “I think the hole in his head is more pressing,” the one who had to bee Meetra replied, peering up at Spike’s head. “He may have brain damage, he looks out of it.” “Brain, damage?” Spike asked slowly, looking up at the bits of brain still stuck to his claws. He wasn’t sure why, but he started laughing as he looked at his claws, a slow chuckle at first, before soon turning into hysterical giggles as he showed them what remained of his brain. “Brain damage? Yeah, something like that.” Then he fell forward, and the last thing he knew was his face slamming into the mud.