VI. Angels and Daemons
The second battle of the Crystal Castle was, in many ways, like the first. Once again, the forces of Chaos clashed with the soldiery of the Crystal Empire in the winding, twisting maze that the fortress presented to those unused to it. And, again, the kingdom's fate threatened to be forever altered on the outcome of that battle.
The second time, however, there were numerous, notable differences. The first of these was that the armies of the Ruinous Powers consisted of more than just one man - packs of Daemons, the children of the Dark Gods themselves, stalked the castle's halls with murderous intent. The second was that whilst the Ponies may have been taken by surprise with the suddenness of the Daemonic incursion, this time they were not unprepared. Successes against the Nerverborn had been few and far between, but by now most had at least a rudimentary idea of what it was they faced, and if nothing else panic did not spread amongst the garrison.
The third, and most telling, of the differences was that now, the Legiones Astartes fought on the side of the ponies.
Adamant Tower skidded to a halt under a table, taking a moment to catch his breath and watch as one of the robed, green-armoured Space Marines opened fire on a shrieking Daemonette. It wasn't, he consoled himself, cowardice that compelled him to hide - far from it, he knew he was fully capable of fighting, or at least trying to fight. But he was without any weapons, and until he recovered them, the pony recognised that all he would do was get in the way. Ever since the Astartes had been granted permission to dwell within the castle, several of the more zealous members of the Crystal Guard had been interrogating him; perhaps that was understandable, considering that Adamant Tower had been the first to come into contact with the towering aliens. At the no-doubt disappointing revelation that he knew no more than anypony else, they had eventually released him, choosing to ignore his leaving the military for now, considering the circumstances. He'd just been on his way out when the first of the Daemons had materialised - foul, horned things, slimy guts dripping freely and a single bloodshot eye in the centre of their foreheads. The stench had been near-intolerable, and the droning of flies surrounding them an assault on the ears. All things considered, the pony considered it was safer inside the castle than out, for now.
The lithe monstrosity was torn apart in a hail of shot, something it seemed the Dark Angel was becoming proficient at. The Marine in question - Adamant Tower thought it was the one named Uzzael, but it was still hard to tell - held his smoking gun level for a moment, before lowering it emotionlessly. From beneath the table, Adamant Tower watched as the hooded Marine tilted his head, as if listening to someone speak. Then, without further delay, he set off through the castle with gun raised. The pony hesitated for a moment, weighing up his options. On the one hoof, following the Space Marine would probably lead him straight into danger. On the other, having one of the aliens by his side was probably the best defence against that danger there was. The decision made for him, the sea-green pony scrambled out from under the table in pursuit.
"You should remove yourself, Xenos." Adamant Tower flinched as the Dark Angel addressed him; the Space Marine hadn't even looked round. "We will deal with this incursion. If you find any value in your life, you will not interfere." The pony couldn't tell whether or not the Astartes was threatening him, or merely offering information. Either way, and despite the primal dread standing beside the colossal figure invoked, he didn't leave.
"I-if they're attacking, I want to help where I can." The pony insisted, swallowing and trying to affect a confidence he didn't feel. It was followed by an awkward chuckle. "B-besides, after last time, l-letting your kind rampage around on your own in here seems like a bad idea..." He instantly regretted it, squeaking in fear and letting his ears fold against his skull, as Uzzael stopped and looked down at him. Too far, it seemed. After a moment of the crimson glare burrowing into him, the Space Marine just gave an exasperated growl, heading off again.
They reached the main foyer of the castle soon enough, arriving from a side chamber. Around the giant, crystalline grand staircase leading up, the main battle raged. The other four Dark Angels had assembled around the top of the staircase, Sergeant Nehemiah co-ordinating the unshakeable defence from the middle, using the construction as a natural defensive feature as they rained fire down upon those Daemons trying to slavishly dash their way up the stairs. As Uzzael moved to join his brothers, his own bolter spitting death, Adamant Tower found he could identify two major distinctions of Daemon. One was a sinuous, but muscular breed of horned creature, their skin a visceral red. They were invariably at the front of the Daemonic charge, a tangible need to slaughter and maim burning in their eyes, but the volleys of bolt fire were enough to put them down it seemed. Advancing behind them at a more measured, even lumbering, pace came the plague-infested creatures the pony had seen earlier. Though their approach was far, far slower, it also took considerably more firepower to drop one of the creatures.
The difference between the two breeds worked in the Daemons' favour. Trying to ignore the buzzing of flies, or the sonorous chanting of the diseased creatures that reverberated through the foyer, Adamant Tower's heart nevertheless began to pound harder still as one of the Bloodletters made its way to the top of the stairs. It bore down upon a Dark Angel, the Space Marine distracted by putting a bolt round through a Plaguebearer's eye. He turned as the howling Daemon's sword fell, unable to fully move out the way in time, raising an arm to defend himself. He avoided the worst of the blow, but not all of it; Adamant Tower reckoned he had a fairly good idea of just how strong power armour was, which made the way the sword sailed through it as if it were paper even more horrifying. The Dark Angel stumbled back as his severed limb dropped to the ground, blood gushing from the wound.
Before the Bloodletter could bring its sword round in a decapitating blow, it was knocked off balance, a group of five armoured ponies slamming into it; the Space Marines might have been bearing the brunt of the fighting, but the residents of Equestria were equally committed to doing their part. As if energised by the blood it had spilt, the daemon of Khorne lashed out again, cleaving two guards clean in twain with a single sweep. A third died as his head left his neck, but before the Bloodletter could move again, a volley of bolt fire cut it down. Elsewhere, where the Daemons were not so gorged on their own successes, the Guards were having slightly more luck - dragging the warp-spawned monsters down through sheer weight of spear-thrusts.
"Xenos!" Uzzael's bark swiftly recaptured Adamant Tower's attention, the pony jumping a little as the Dark Angel addressed him. The Astartes had formed a perimeter around their wounded brother, shielding him with a hail of fire whilst his super-human body worked on stabilising itself. "You wish to ingratiate yourself to us? Seek out the Apothecary, bring him to us." The transhuman knight ordered, the pony taking a moment to work out that he was referring to the Blood Angel. Nodding, and deviating only to retrieve a spear from a dead Guard - well, it wasn't like they'd be needing it, after all - Adamant Tower sprinted away from the battle.
At first, he had no idea where to even begin looking for the other Space Marines. The pony was mainly concerned about not being killed, ducking and skidding along the floor as Pegasi clashed with airborne Furies overhead in the corridor. More than a few of the walls were dripping with blood - most of it pony, but some of it daemonic. Eventually though, Adamant Tower realised that he might be able to track his quarry by listening for the sound of their weapons. Sure enough, as he took a fleeting moment of stillness to listen, he heard the guns barking from what sounded like all over the castle. It wasn't much, but it was a start.
The distraction nearly killed him. The Daemon that came at him now was something out of a drunkard's nightmare - arms ending in pincers, a head that looked almost equine filled with far too many glassy back eyes, its body sinuous and multi-breasted. Even so, Adamant Tower found something...almost beguiling in it. A pleasant scent tickled his nostrils, sapping his will to fight, beckoning him closer to the Fiend of Slaanesh with a silent siren song.
The monster shrieked as more bolter fire slammed into it. The spell was broken, and Adamant Tower screamed, dashing back just in time to see the two Iron Hands march down the corridor with their weapons raised. This monster seemed more resilient than many of its cohorts, coiling and dashing out, all of its limbs skittering across the ground as it closed with the Medusans. In one movement, the two Astartes locked their guns to their thighs and drew swords as long as the pony's forelegs. They fought with merciless, cold and calculated anger, ignoring the multiple slicing blows the Daemon rained down upon them. In short order, the two Marines had despatched it, not a sound leaving them except for the occasional sparking of armour joints and the last tremors of the creature's death-shriek.
They looked down at it for a moment contemptuously, before setting off again as if they had not just been fighting for their life. They didn't even look down at the pony as they passed, Adamant Tower having to leap out the way to avoid being trampled. He sprinted after the two machine-men, his pleas for them to listen thoroughly ignored.
In the end, it was the Apothecary that found him. Even with the majority of his armour being red to begin with, it was still clear that Zuriel was caked with gore. The medical tool affixed to his left wrist had clearly seen use, but it was his whirring chainsword and bolt pistol that were out now. As Adamant Tower searched the castle, the Blood Angel rounded the corner, looming over the pony. For a moment, the former Guard froze, hoof tensing around his spear. There was something unsettling about the Blood Angel; he twitched, eyes glassy yet rage-filled, as if some deep-seated anger threatened to overtake him. For a moment, it seemed like the Marine might even strike the pony. Eventually, though, he calmed, letting out a shuddering breath as his blood-streaked face became more noble again.
"...o-one of the Dark Angels." The pony squeaked, still shaking a little even as he got his voice back. "H-he's injured...they sent me to get you." The Space Marine nodded, imposing features nevertheless twisting to a look of gratitude.
"Where can he be found?" The Apothecary asked, voice measured. Adamant Tower looked down, trying to swallow his nerves as he thought.
"I...t-they were at the foyer's staircase, when I left them..." He recalled. "B-but they might have retreated..." He gave the matter a few second's more thought. "They'd probably go to the throne room...i-it's the most defensible position."
"The majority of the Daemonic taint has been purged, though at great cost to your kinfolk." The Blood Angel told him, still sounding at least a little sympathetic. "Your assumption seems viable...come, let us go."
They did. They ran fast, the pony just about managing to keep pace with the Space Marine despite his exhaustion, hooves and boots pounding along the ground. On the way up the castle, they passed Spike - he had recovered a spear from somewhere himself, and had taken to guarding the door to Fluttershy's room. It was unlikely he could've done much if the Daemons did attack en masse, but for now it seemed secure enough. Despite that, the piles of Pony bodies they passed on the way up - most mangled in some way, and often decapitated cleanly - did make Adamant Tower feel a little bit sick.
At the top of the tower, in the throne room-come-council chamber, the Dark Angels and Iron Hands had indeed focused their defence. It wasn't clear where the councillors themselves were; maybe they were dead, co-ordinating the defence elsewhere, or had simply fled. Even so, as the pair of them sprinted and galloped through the great doorway, battle already raged.
Only one Daemon had made its way to the chamber. Only one was needed. It was kin to the red, horned Daemons that Adamant Tower had seen before, but slightly larger, with its body clad in thick plate of blackened brass. Four horns erupted from out its head, jagged and coiling, and the sword it clutched in one claw burned with an incandescent white light. In the other claw, a flail struck out in great arcs, the screaming skulls attached to the end of it never shattering or even cracking despite how many times they smashed into power armour. Bolter fire streamed from the warriors of the First and Tenth Legions, but the Herald of Khorne seemed unaffected despite the volume slamming into it, the shells either exploding harmlessly against the rune-marked armour or otherwise dissolving into thin air.
"Stay." Zuriel commanded, and Adamant Tower had no trouble following that particular order as the crimson-clad warrior advanced on his foe. The Herald turned, staggering only a little as it seemed to register a bolt round - though it still wasn't hurt. With a roar, it charged, muscles rippling with every movement. The few ponies that remained in the room did, in spite of their obvious fear, move to intercept the Daemonic champion. It didn't even slow down as sword and flail lashed out, dropping the heroic guards to the ground in a particularly unheroic heap of spilt blood and mangled bone.
Some of that blood sprayed onto Zuriel's face. As it did, a change seemed to come over the Blood Angel Apothecary. The look on his face from when Adamant Tower had seen him earlier, the expression of glassy and towering fury, returned with even greater force. His mouth hung slightly open, and the pony's eyes widened as he noticed the sharpened fangs the Astartes possessed. What was even more surprising was that it seemed the Space Marine was about to leap and meet the Herald in single combat, despite the death sentence that was. As his hand hovered over his blade however, Zuriel evidently straining at the leash to act the Daemon was knocked out of its leap with a howl as bolter rounds finally found their mark. It rolled, armour smoking, landing in a crouch and wasting no time before it was moving again.
By now, Adamant Tower had found his way beside the Dark Angel with the missing arm, though it didn't appear the Space Marine even noticed his presence. The Dark Angels were surrounding the Daemon, sergeant Nehemiah's sword crackling with energy as the power field played around it, whilst the two Iron Hands stuck together. Whilst such a stratagem prevented the Daemon's escape, however, it also spread the Calibanites out.
It had reached Uzzael, and to the Space Marine's credit, he did not waver. He did not even stop firing as the Daemon bore down upon him, shells opening up more wounds on the Herald, before dropping his bolter and drawing the sword at his side in one deft movement. It intercepted the hellblade, but only just, by some miracle not being sliced clean through. The Dark Angel adjusted his posture to compensate for the unwanted blade-on-blade contact, intending to bring it round for another chop, but the Blood God's warrior would always be faster. The flail slammed round at lightning speed, the sheer force even knocking the sword out of the Space Marine's hands. The sword followed suit, opening up a great gouge through his robes and green power armour, already sinking right down to the black carapace within his body. Finally, as Uzzael reeled, the Herald dug the talons on one of its feet into his chest, raised himself up, and thrust the blade downwards tip-first.
It parted armour with ease, sinking into the Space Marine's body all the way to the hilt, serrated edges and all. Uzzael tensed, the noise of blood being vomited up faintly audible as every muscle locked. Moment's later, the Herald tore his sword out his front; the Space Marine practically folded open, collapsing down to the ground as his organs poured out with him. Adamant Tower just watched it all, and as far as he knew, his heart had stopped; he had never seen a Space Marine die before, let alone in such an ignoble and messy way. He hadn't even really considered that they could die.
Nehemiah's anguish at his brother's death manifested as a roar, the sergeant closing on his foe with righteous fury, sword in hand. It did not, apparently, particularly bother him that his chances of surviving such a duel alone were negligible - honour had to be restored, and a death avenged. Adamant Tower made the tactical decision to cower as the Astartes officer swung his blade, the energised edge of the power sword parrying the Daemonic sword with far greater ease than even Uzzael's length of refined steel. The two clashed and riposted, almst too fast for the pony to follow, Knight of Caliban matched by the manifestation of war. Nehemiah's bladework was impressive, and his artificer-wrought plate allowed him to weather the blows that did penetrate his guard and return with his own, but gradually he began to be pushed back.
One of the Iron Hands elected to intervene before a fatal blow could be struck, any acrimony between the factions momentarily forgotten. He advanced, bolter mag-locked to his obsidian-black thigh in favour of pistol and gladius. As Nehemiah overbalanced on a strike and the Daemon swung, he stepped into the path of the blow, pistol barking once before the sword meant for the Dark Angel carved a diagonal line from shoulder to waist. He toppled backwards, the sword thankfully sinking nowhere near deep enough to bisect him, but the flail crashing into the side of his helmet was enough to drop him unmoving onto his front.
That sacrifice, however, gave Nehemiah his chance. The Dark Angel took his sword in a two-handed grip, lashing out with all his might. Almost miraculously, it found its mark - the Herald howled as the arm he used to hold the flail was cut away at the elbow, disappearing into ethereal vapour. The Daemon staggered, but if Nehemiah had wounded it, its end was revealed a moment later. With a maddened howl, Helsturnn finally arrived. The Wolf was covered, almost head to foot, in blood, the liquid sinking into his beard. His black-pinned eyes were wild with bestial fury, the murder-make beating as loud in his blood as his chainsword whirred in his hand. With a cry of 'Fenrys Hjolda!', the Space Wolf hurled himself into the air. Preoccupied as it was by deflecting a blow from the Dark Angel, the Daemonic Herald saw the danger only seconds before the Fenrisian's chainsword bit town, teeth chewing the air and screaming, before biting deep into Daemonic bone; the Astartes did not stop, pushing down further as the Khornate howled and thrashed, only savagely tearing the blade out when it had become firmly lodged in whatever passed for a skeleton within the Herald. It barely had a chance to stand, almost dazed, before Nehemiah's sword flashed round and separated its head from its neck.
As the decapitated body slumped down, the malignant presence in the air slowly started to ebb away - the Daemons had lost their leader, and so drew back, like wolves surprised when their prey bit back. Even so, the stench of blood remained thick in the air. Adamant Tower stayed motionless for seconds longer, before daring to take a step forward, watching the Astartes with wide-eyed awe. They did not seem tired, though a stranger feeling he couldn't place had descended upon them. As two of the Dark Angels knelt beside the corpse of their brothers, hooded heads bowed in mourning, the downed Iron Hand slowly picked his way to his feet.
"You live." Nehemiah didn't move, or even turn his head to look at the Medusan, still gripping his sizzling power sword in a green gauntlet. The Iron Hand received no help from his brother, and asked for none, instead tapping his chest - which sparked, rather than bled.
"They forget who they are fighting." He said, with customary monotone bluntness. The Blood Angel, for his part, was kneeling beside the dead Angel, wrist-mounted device already whirring.
"Would you rather we leave his legacy here?" Zuriel asked, when the Dark Angels looked at him with evident suspicion, despite their helmets. "I swear, if at all possible, we will return this to your brothers." The First Legionnaires looked unsure for a moment longer, before one gave a wary nod. Adamant Tower winced in surprise as the Apothecary buried his medical tool in the the remnants of Uzzael's chest, eventually retracting it with a sickening *crunch*. Whatever it was, the pony couldn't see.
Helsturnn was silent for a moment, staring at the ground. Then, with a roar, he turned to Nehemiah - almost as if he was going to start the Dark Angel. "This is on you!" He howled, gesturing around the room with his bloodied chainsword. "All of this, your brother's death...it is on your head, Angel!" One of the other Dark Angel's stood, hand moving to the grip of his sword, but a raised hand from the sergeant halted him. They stared at each other, Nehemiah's crimson glare matched with Helsturnn's wild, naked eyes. Adamant Tower, for his part, just retreated back a step. "We have stayed here, at your directive." The Space Wolf went on, voice now a low growl - but no less threatening. "We have waited, patiently, for you to offer some form of leadership...and all we've received in return is death, and Maleficarum." As the two Iron Hands stepped to stand behind him, Helsturnn took a step forward. "I will not wait here a day longer, Nehemiah." He promised, voice now at its lowest yet. "Not a single day more."
Tension crackled in the air. It was palpable, prickling over Tower's skin, and had his muscles not been locked in fear - he was smart enough to realise when he was watching something he shouldn't be - he would almost certainly have given a reflexive squirm. Nehemiah stood, as stony as ever, helmet betraying nothing of whatever thoughts lurked below. After what felt like an hour, but couldn't have been more than a minute, he did move, gaze shifting to stare out one of the few remaining windows in the throne room. The tortured sky raged above, seeming to roil with even greater fury now that it had been offered sacrifice. Nehemiah was still silent, though even the pony could tell that a million thoughts must have been running through his head. When the Space Marine did speak, it was with a tone of grim finality.
"We go into the storm."
***
"You know, if it had worked, it would have been very effective."
The most irritating thing about Zuko's statement was that he was correct. The group had managed to escape any pursuit by their self-imposed rivals at Canterlot High - though, none were actually sure whether or not their had been any pursuit in the first place, though Lorkhan would doubtless tell them there was - and if Principal Perturabo was aware of their escapades, he had given no sign. It seemed like they'd actually gotten away with it...until, of course, one took into account the smell. No-one was quite sure what Lorkhan had done to create it, but after the stink bomb had fallen on them no amount of scrubbing that night had allowed any of the boys to fully was away the pungent aroma. It clung to them, a tangible reminder of failure that also served to make all their fellow students stay well, well away from them. Varvillon had proposed it would fade in time, but until that time came the seven of them found themselves relegated to the computer lab as the lunch hour dragged on - a wide berth having formed around them all.
None of them answered Zuko's assertion. Instead, with the sole exception of Lorkhan - who was still sat slamming his head into one of the desks, as he seemed to have been doing all day - their response was to a man was to glare at their helmeted companion. He looked at them all in turn, blank visor slowly panning across their faces, before a sigh left him. "Look, I said I was sorry, can't you just let it go?"
"Letting things go is hardly our speciality." Mordecai chuckled quietly, but it was swiftly overshadowed by a growl from Rorke.
"All you had to do..." The short boy began, hands clenched tight into fists as he narrowed his eyes at Zuko. "Was throw the fucking balloon. That...that was it." He snapped, one eye giving an involuntary twitch.
"They were all looking at me, what was I supposed to do?" Zuko snapped back, his own temper rising at Rorke's aggressiveness. "If I had thrown it, we'd have been in even deeper shit, and we probably would have gotten decimated again today!"
"You think zat ze Principal would care?" Vortun asked, slab-like body rumbling as a gurgling chuckle left him. Zuko's helmet quickly turned to look at him, the boy evidently not enjoying the two-pronged attack.
"Yes...no...look, I don't pretend to know what the Principal thinks." He muttered. "But I do know that you smashing your way through like the Terminator, or whatever, that didn't help!"
"Or picking me up and carrying me around like a ragdoll." Rorke added, both he and Zuko looking a little uncomfortable to be agreeing on anything. Vortun, either way, was unfazed.
"You vere just lucky I didn't twist zere little heads off...zat vould have sent a message."
"Really?" Zuko asked, chuckling humourlessly as he sat back and folded his arms. "Even the girls?"
"Especially ze girls." Vortun answered, without missing a beat. A moment passed, before Zuko shivered, looking away and shaking his head.
"You're a scary bastard, you know that?"
"Don't try and change the fucking subject!" Rorke piped up again, returning his eternally-enraged gaze onto Zuko as he twitched again. "This is all still your fault, you soft little prick."
"Oh, well, I'm sorry." He said in an exasperated sigh, clearly not sorry at all. "Though you have to admit that the plan itself was more than a little flawed."
"Well, duh." Varvillon snorted, before tilting his head, tongue licking over his braces thoughtfully. "Why are you even wearing that helmet? We all know what you look like now."
"Oh, for God's sake, not you too!" Zuko snapped, irritation finally boiling over as he stood from his seat. "Look, does it even matter? The point is-"
"Gentlemen, please, let us not grow unsettled." Mordecai sighed, the scant signs of anger fading as he he stretched a little. "Though I confess that the stench we all give off is...unpleasant, it is hardly the end of the world."
"How come you're suddenly so cheerful?" Rorke muttered, before his brow furrowed in a frown, mind slowly ticking over. "Wait...I saw you...talking with that Canterlot bitch." They all looked at him, once again with the exception of Lorkhan, Mordecai's face creasing into an irritated frown of his own at Rorke's choice of terminology.
"Yeah...yeah, I saw that." Varvillon nodded, looking at Mordecai with something getting dangerously close to admiration. "The one with the legs."
"Most people have legs, Var'." Zuko pointed out, voice deadpan.
"Yes, but not like these." The boy expanded, eliciting another amused giggle and roll of the eyes from Mordecai.
"Oh, for the love of..." Zuko sighed, shoulders slumping a little in despair. It was a posture he was slowly getting used to. "You're as bad as him." He insisted, gesturing over his shoulder at Lorkhan. "Not having some burning hatred for them is one thing, but-"
He was cut off as Lorkhan, suddenly, moved into action. The boy sat up straight as an arrow, eyes wide and synapses in his brain almost visibly forming connections. He moved no more, but the suddenness was still enough to make Zuko flinch, looking his companion up and down. "I...didn't think it was going to offend you that much." He offered, glancing at his equally confused comrades for support.
"...no." Vortun said slowly, leaning in a fraction closer. "No...zat is ze face you wear ven you have just figured something out, Herr Lorkhan." Granted, that was a rare enough occurrence, but none of them had time to inquire any further before Lorkhan exploded into movement. He practically dived into one of the empty chairs in front of a computer - they were old, inelegant, but functional models - frantically booting it up. The others crowded in behind him, looking over his shoulder and trying to veil their intrigued and bemused expressions. Eventually, Lorkhan had found his way to the internet, loading up the video of some girls from Canterlot High forming a flash mob and dancing on the cafeteria tables while singing.They all knew he had watched this video countless times; whatever it was that possessed him to now, it must have been a veritable epiphany.
"There." He paused the video, at a position that all of them had overlook before. The camera recording had focused on two figures, standing on a table - one of them, a boy with spiked blue hair and a guitar. Flash Sentry, they all knew him. That wasn't what Lorkhan was focused on, however. "Who," He asked, poking his finger at the image of the purple girl singing beside him. "The bloody hell, is that?"
They looked at her, for once concentrating intently. Not even Mordecai made any immediate remark, as they one-by-one realised that they didn't know. "Dunno. Probably just some bitch we haven't seen before, who gives a shit?" Rorke growled, shrugging in annoyance.
"Must you always use such profanity?" Mordecai tutted disapprovingly, but Lorkhan didn't even appear to hear him.
"This 'bitch', as you put it, is the same one who...grows wings and a horn, and shoots the rainbow laser...thing at the Daemon teenager in the other video." Lorkhan explained, the strangeness of that sentence apparent even to him. "You know...not the kind of person who'd just disappear off the face of the planet afterwards?"
His logic made, for a change, an uncomfortable amount of sense. The other boys glanced amongst themselves, each of them noticing the admittedly strange nature of his point, whilst Lorkhan continued to work what he'd 'discovered' through in his mind.
"Well..." Zuko spoke up at last, swallowing a audibly even within the helmet. "The song's about 'helping Twilight win the crown', right? I'm guessing that's Twilight."
"I don't care what her name is." Lorkhan muttered, not tearing his eyes from the glow of the screen as his musing reached its zenith. "I'm guessing she was there a week, maybe two at most...then she disappears, but why would she just leave?" Something seemed to suddenly occur to him, the boy hurriedly scrolling down to the video's comments. Navigating his way through the repeated utterances of 'fake', and...less savoury things, he eventually found one that brought him to a halt.
"'Isn't that the girl who lived in the library?'" He read out, sitting back in his seat. They all listened, and all wanted to ask why that was so important, but at the same time none wanted to run the risk of disturbing him now. Mordecai, it seemed, worked it out seconds before anyone else did.
"Lorkhan, old friend-"
"You can just walk in." For the second time that day, the light of epiphany glimmered in Lorkhan's eyes as a rare grin blossomed across his face. "By all that's...you can just walk in." He sounded in complete awe, possibilities flooding his mind at the revelation. Even the others had to admit, it was something none of them had considered before.
"Lorkhan, I...frankly, I'm pleasantly surprised that you figured this out on your own, but I really would caution against attempting infiltration..." Mordecai began. Even he flinched in surprise, however, as Lorkhan spun round in the chair and pointed at them all with an intense expression.
"Tell me you don't want to." He said, addressing them all. "Tell me you don't want to just...just see what it's actually like in there. You know...walk amongst them, and they wouldn't even know!" They tried. None could - even if it was perhaps the most petty form of 'revenge' imaginable, they were to a man bitter individuals. Any chance had to be taken.
"Wait...wait...hang on." Zuko said, trying to inject some calm to counterbalance Lorkhan's exuberance. "It's tempting, but we can't...they know what a lot of us look like, after last night's debacle." It took a moment to sink in, but when it did, even Lorkhan sighed - his enthusiasm nipped at the bud.
"You have a point." He mumbled, the admission clearly wounding his pride. "We would need someone who managed to avoid getting themselves noticed last night..." They all reached the answer at the same time; as one, the group turned with painstaking slowness, eyes coming to rest on the target.
Barbus had been quiet until now, just spinning in the chair and fiddling with his car keys. After a moment, he seemed to realise they were all looking at him. He raised his head, glancing amongst them in confusion, before reality sank in.
"...oh, no."
***
"I told you! I told you there was something off about them!"
Ever since the Dazzlings' song in the cafeteria at lunch, and the division it had torn open in the student body at Canterlot High, Sunset Shimmer had hardly stopped reminding the girls that she'd been right. Normally, the constant insistence would have irritated Applejack - but her newest friend had been having a hard time recently, and such obvious validation would make anyone get a little hyper for a while. Even so, as she sat in her seat in the classroom - trying to ignore the glares shooting around the room from everyone else - she found herself wishing things were otherwise. In her heart, AJ knew Sunset did too.
"Yeah yeah, okay, we get it." Rainbow said, folding her arms as she rocked her chair back. Applejack was between the two, and took the brunt of Sunset's irritated expression, but she knew neither of them were truly mad with each other. She also reckoned she knew why Dash's temper was on such a hair-trigger.
"Are you still moody 'bout last night?" The farmgirl asked, making sure to keep her expression sympathetic as she looked at her friend. Rainbow's expression creased in annoyance, before a sigh left the athlete.
"Not...annoyed." She explained, running a hand through her multicoloured hair. "Just, like...confused. I'm still not really sure what the heck happened...and Rarity going all gooey doesn't help." Dash finished. Applejack could agree with that - their fashion-conscious friend had been a little distracted all day, and the only explanation they'd really gotten out of her was that she'd met some guy the night before who was, as she put it, 'the perfect gentlemen'. If he was involved with the individuals that Rainbow had described then Applejack doubted that very highly, but she hadn't wanted to get into an argument with her friend.
"Ah...guess that makes sense." Applejack nodded, before turning to Sunset. "And ah know what yah gonna say, sugarcube...ah agree, we need tah figure out what's goin' on with 'em, but panickin' ain't gonna help nothin'." It wasn't the answer that Sunset had wanted to hear, plainly, but she could see the sense in it. She sighed, giving a nod, retreating in on herself a little again. Applejack grimaced, opening her mouth to offer something supportive, when Rainbow cut her off.
"Besides, if it's a Battle of the Bands they want, they're gonna get crushed by the Rainbooms and the most awesome guitar-player in the world!" She grinned, face lighting up with glee, before noticing the looks the other two were casting her. "Oh...and a pretty good bassist, too." Dash amended, blushing a little. It swiftly gave way to a perplexed frown. "Where's Mr Cranky Doodle? Aren't I usually the one who's always late?"
No sooner had she spoke, the classroom door swung open. Chatter almost immediately died as the figure strode in, powerful steps carrying him to the front in short order. He was tall, clad in a dark green jacket, heavily muscled body evident even at a glance. Even so, Applejack considered, he wasn't attractive - something in his form made him imposing, and even more than that, simply unsettling. She cast a glance at Sunset, who returned it furtively; whoever this was, it wasn't their regular teacher. He reached the front of the classroom, almost instantly beginning to scribble on the board. The students all watched him, wide-eyed and more than a little fearful.
"Umm...you're not Mr Cranky Doodle..." It was Flitter who piped up in the end, asking the obvious question. He stopped writing, Flitter giving a whimper and sinking down into her seat a little more as his arms fell to his side. The towering figure turned - he was at least six foot, Applejack estimated. At least. As his face came into view, the farmgirl found herself staring - there were a few scars, here and there, but the eyes were the most drawing feature. They were old - the eyes of someone who had all the answers, and wasn't telling any of it yet. Flitter gave another nervous whimper, but the man didn't seem angry.
"Your teacher, I'm afraid, had an accident last night preventing him from working at the moment. For the foreseeable future, I will be your substitute." He explained. His voice was deep, but not unkind. Normally, such an explanation would have elicited whispering from the room, but none dared now. The vagueness only deepened Applejack's suspicions, but it wasn't her that spoke.
"Alright...then, who are you?" Dash asked, trying to remain nonchalant as she folded her arms again. She gave a quiet gulp as the substitute's searching eyes fell on her, but her firm expression held.
"'Sir' will be more than sufficient, Rainbow Dash." He answered, in his rumbling voice again. Yes - definitely suspicious. The use of her full name made Rainbow pale a moment in nervousness, but she just about managed to hold it off.
"Well, like...what if we need to find you or something? Should we just ask for the big guy?" She chuckled, though it swiftly faded into awkwardness as the athlete realised she was the only one doing so. The substitute certainly displayed no levity, merely holding Dash's slightly nervous magenta gaze. After a moment, however, he did the last thing Applejack expected; he smiled.
"You may refer to me by my title." He offered, nodding. "Mr Cypher."
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So Whenever an Astartes or Primarch dies, they are reincarnated in this version of the Equestria girls Universe?
Unless I'm mistaken and Cypher is not the Dark Angel who just ate it.
5179394
Nah. Zuko was still alive last time we saw him. There's probably a counterpart for everyone.
5179394
5180849
Murder Knight is correct, they're just equivalents, kinda like the ponies have - except Cypher, who is actually Cypher, and been changed into a human due to Equestrian Portal shenanigans as was kinda implied at the end of the first story. I realise it's kind of convoluted, but a lot of things about that movie were strange (where the heck does Sunset Shimmer live?) so eh.
5181536 hmm I don't remember Cypher from the first story. I'll have to go back and reread it.
5181536 i dont remember cypher from the first story. Could you jog my memory?
5181536