Chapter 20
The muted newscast on the back wall holoscreen was filled with emotionally affecting images. Some touching, like the much replayed footage of a Pony and a Human soldier, both wounded, scrambling to help each other across a fire zone to safety.
Some footage was inspiring, like Wrenn and Kephic’s assault on the MEADE.
Other footage was the stuff of nightmares. Dead bodies in heaps, HLF soldiers executing a Pony before marines could intervene, Wrenn removing the helmet from the augmented HLF soldier...
“Escalation. We introduced a way to make ourselves something infinitely more deadly, so they both responded in kind in the best ways they could think of.”
Wrenn pulled his eyes off the holoscreen to look at General Lantry.
The Bureau conference room was full of military command officials, surviving platoon leaders from the Carrenton Battle, most of the ConSec command staff, and ten Gryphons, counting Wrenn.
The six Wrenn hadn’t yet gotten to know had arrived early that morning. Some were there to take positions in the Bureau, others to act as military liaisons. It was the first time Wrenn had seen females of his species, by way of two of the newcomers
It was obvious looking at them; Their faces possessed subtle but distinctly female characteristics, and their bodies were slightly thinner and more lithe. It fascinated Wrenn that the entire visible gender dimorphism of the species boiled down to subtle, yet strongly visible structural characteristics.
No one could mistake a male for a female, or vice versa, even without the added cue of voice.
Wrenn was relieved to find that he didn’t perceive the two females as especially attractive in any way beyond the antiseptic. He had never been particularly affected by aesthetically pleasing members of his species when he was a human, and he had no desire to lose the strong sense of control and security that gave him.
Hutch’s voice snapped him out of his reverie, “You mean they did this because of... Them?”
He gestured widely, to encompass all ten Gryphons.
Lantry nodded, and Commander Aston added her own thoughts, “Sure. Why not. We declared war, and proved to them that we have a weapon ordinary humans stand no chance against. So they changed tactics.”
One of the Earthgov officials, a brigadier general, looked to Wrenn and Sildinar, “I want your analysis of this. Do either of these new enemies present a credible threat to you?”
Wrenn nodded, “Yes. I was lucky to survive my encounter with the augmented trooper.
Taking them by surprise seems to work well, they aren’t quite as fast as we are. But they are strong, stronger than us, and certainly far more durable. If they get more creative with the implants, they’re going to get very hard to fight. Built in LADAR, infrared eyes, implanted jammers... Nanocellular active camouflage panels. The possibilities are endless. I’d wager what we faced was just a first prototype.”
Sildinar inclined his head in agreement, “As for the Diamond Dogs, they are deadly in their own right. Fortunately, some of the most capable subspecies, like the Lupines, are honorable and share alliances with us. But the Bulldog Trolls are not to be underestimated. They have the same pack instincts and abilities as all members of their kind, the thickest bones, and greater digging capabilities than their fellow subspecies. Most are bound by one code and one code only; Profit.”
Sildinar seemed loath to admit it, but he finally spat it out, “Admittedly, they can take a great deal more punishment than we can, and they are appreciably stronger, even if they are slower by the same token. We’ve had border wars with this clan before, and they were difficult struggles.”
The Brigadier General sighed, “So in short, we’ve lost our advantage?”
Hutch shook his head, “It’s been diminished, but not eliminated. We still have more in the way of ships, aircraft, and artillery. If the Carrenton battle proved anything, it proved that Gryphons are excellent force multipliers.”
Lantry chimed in, “We didn’t observe the Diamond Dogs working with the PER soldiers at all. The biggest threat in terms of military power are the new augmented soldiers. They seemed to work with regular troopers just fine...”
One of the female Gryphons interrupted, her voice seemed at once both quiet, and commanding; it had undertones of a lilting accent Wrenn couldn’t place, “We have to play to our strengths, and their weaknesses simultaneously. The PER are more advanced technically, but they have the fewest resources. Our job is to cut those off, squeeze their treasuries, make it harder for them to pay off the Trolls. On the other hand your ‘HLF’ has more resources, but technology that seems roughly equal to your own. The key with them, as with any claw-to-claw war, is to always have the element of surprise, and strike without mercy whenever the opportunity presents itself.”
The Brigadier General nodded, and rubbed his temple, “How is the interrogation of General Piety progressing?”
Varan shook his head, “She is strong of will, but not well trained. She won’t say anything directly, but she rants all the time. We’ve garnered several important tidbits from her ramblings through use of psychological nudges.”
General Lantry gestured for Varan to continue.
“She let slip several statements that confirm our basic assumptions. The PER have strong connections in Equestria who are mediating their new alliance with the Diamond Dogs---”
One of the ConSec commanders interrupted, “We’ve confirmed with the science department that if Equestrian materials were brought here and synthesized into very basic elemental things like gemstones, that they could probably survive barrier transit again.”
Varan nodded and forged ahead, “From further statements Piety has made, and from our own logical deduction, we’ve determined that the leader or leaders of the PER have had direct contact with their Equestrian counterparts. This is a major breakthrough. Heretofore you haven’t been able to begin to identify the leaders of either faction because of the cellular nature of their operations. Now we can track the prey.”
Lantry picked up the chain of thought, “We have to send Wrenn over with them anyhow to get acclimated, so I’d like to propose a joint initiative.”
He took a deep breath, and Wrenn realized he had probably been planning this for some time.
“I want to propose we start forming joint strike teams. Ponies, Gryphons, and Humans.
We need the diversity, and the cooperation. We’re the only player on this board with three unique species in our troop pool. We’d be fools not to make use of that.”
No one spoke, which Lantry took to mean they were amenable to the idea, so he continued,
“I suggest we form a joint military command made up of Gryphon Paladins, Human Generals, and Pony advisors. We can then create strike teams made up of all three species with the best training and equipment who would be above the traditional military bureaucracy and report only to the oversight command.”
Sildinar nodded his agreement, “It's unprecedented, but I agree.”
The few Ponies in the room murmured their agreement, and all eyes turned to the Brigadier General. After a long moment, he nodded, “I’m tired of the politicians crawling up my ass and breathing down my neck. I’m also tired of being handed a report every month on how many good people we lost, or how many of the innocents on this world were Ponified against their will. The end starts right here, right now.”
He turned to Wrenn and his three companions, “Choose Ponies for your team. Anyone you need who’s willing to help you, anyone you want. We’ll get them vetted and cleared. You’re going to Equestria, and you’re going to run down those ‘Diamond Dogs’ and find out who they take orders from. Once you find out who’s in charge, wring their necks until they give you the PER leaders, then you come back here and we’ll smash these pond scum once and for all.”
The female Gryphon spoke up again, “We are setting up twenty four hour guard on your Potion Vaults. If both the PER and HLF are using poison tactics, extra precautions are needed.
I suggest you set technicians to work analyzing everything recovered from the HLF. You traced Carrenton by analyzing discarded equipment, perhaps you can do it again.”
The Brigadier General nodded once sharply, “Make it happen. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go explain to the Council that we just decided to form a military leadership board that operates equal to their authority.”
Wrenn winced. That wasn’t a conversation he wanted to be in on.
Wrenn came down to the cafeteria to find Sildinar deep in conversation with Carradan.
The reporter was furiously taking notes, so Wrenn assumed it was an interview.
It was a testament to the respect the man had earned, that Sildinar would take time to voice his thoughts to him.
Wrenn poured himself a large mug of coffee, and collapsed into a chair beside Carradan.
His right wing was still sore from breaking a Diamond Dog skull.
“Hey Stan. How goes the interview?”
“This guy has *a lot* of war stories... Are you here to take me for Conversion?”
With a sudden jolt, Wrenn realized that Carradan had scheduled his ponification.
When he had tricked the reporter into their agreement, he had tossed out the idea as the best way to both protect Stanley, and keep him quiet. But the Gryphon had thought it a course he was incredibly unlikely to choose.
Wrenn realized he had misjudged the man. His actions in Carrenton had been honorable, and competent. His decision to move forward with Conversion was surprising, and insightful. Inspired even.
Wrenn glanced back and forth between Sildinar and Carradan, “If you want to stay here... Stay human... Well... I’ve seen you in battle. That’s the strongest test of character any being can pass through. I’m willing to vouch for you, and the Bureau can provide protection.”
Carradan, for a change, looked sincerely emotionally touched, “You know... On the one hand, I’ve seen a lot of things that have restored my faith in humanity. On the other, I don’t have any friends here. I ain’t the nicest guy to get along with, incase ya hadn’t noticed. If I had friends here, I might take you up on that. But you featherbrains are the closest thing I have to friends now, and I can’t follow you with thumbs. If you’ll have me along, I think I’ll take the purple goo now anyways. It’s gotta happen sometime. I've known that for a long time, and made peace with it. It’ll be a good fresh start for me.”
Wrenn smiled, “In that case, your final orientation class is in fifteen minutes. I’ll see you on the other side.”
Carradan grinned, “You know, before I met you clowns, I used to do my job from behind a desk. Thanks for showing me a little adventure.”
Sildinar mumbled around his food, “You may not be thanking us by the end of this. It is far from over.”
Wrenn had discussed his proposal, first with Sildinar, then with Kephic and Varan. They had all agreed wholeheartedly; Skye and Carradan were the best choices in traveling companions they could ever hope for. Skye was magically and technically gifted, and Carradan had an eye for political machinations, paired with a startling breadth of knowledge as an investigative reporter. There were perfect compliments to the Gryphons’ more blunt warrior natures.
Carradan had already asked to come along, thus there was no need to inform him, so Wrenn went in search of Skye. Hutch had informed him that she had agreed to see to caring for one of the two Ponies Varan and Sildinar had sprung from the Carrenton brig.
Wrenn found the two Ponies ambling through one of the sixth floor corridors, talking in low friendly tones. Wrenn smiled. It made him happy to see the traumatized orange Pegasus colt acclimating to freedom so well.
“Skye! Can I talk to you for a second?”
Both Ponies turned at the sound of Wrenn’s voice.
As Skye started towards him, a nagging instinct grabbed hold of Wrenn.
Something wasn’t right. Something he was seeing.
He stared into the Pegasus colt’s green eyes, confused and very disturbed.
It hit him in a flash, his memory making the visual correlation.
Green eyes.
Glittering, hard, shiny... Unearthly. An image formed in his mind; A gray pony with exactly the same eyes. A gray Pony that had been on the ill fated maglev. A gray Pony whose body had never been found.
The orange Pegasus registered Wrenn’s expression, and went from friendly to hostile as though a switch had been flipped.
His muzzle contorted into an expression of pure malice that seemed totally out of place on an Equine head. Before Wrenn could cross the hallway, the orange colt thrashed his wings, and bucked hard.
An accelerated brain could be a gift, and now Wrenn could see it as a curse.
The colt’s back legs connected with Skye’s chest, and he watched as she flew backwards from the force, impacting a window, and punching straight through.
Wrenn dove to catch her, but the Pegasus slammed into him at full speed.
The colt wasn’t heavy, but he was moving at a preternatural speed enhanced by innate magic.
The sheer momentum pushed Wrenn back, and for a moment he was pinned to the floor.
He batted at the Pony, but the Pegasus quickly danced out of the way, and took off down the hall at top speed.
Wrenn’s ears just managed to pick out the muffled crunch.
Skye’s body hitting the pavement far below.
The sound of a death she didn’t deserve.
Inside Wrenn’s mind, something snapped.
A primal rage bubbled to the surface like a seismic cataclysm. Reason didn’t matter. Tactics didn’t matter. Life, and the world, politics, Celestia’s countermand against harming Ponies... None of it mattered.
There was only the image of an orange Pegasus choking on his own blood with Wrenn’s talons embedded firmly in his throat. That was all that mattered.
Wrenn barreled down the corridor like an out of control freight train, a roar one part grief, two parts fury tearing from his considerable diaphragm.
He caught a glimpse of the Pegasus colt’s black tail disappearing into a stairwell, and he redoubled his pace.
The others had warned him time and again about the strength of a Gryphon’s emotions.
He had experienced euphoria, now he was learning the true meaning of rage and grief.
The feelings became a coursing throbbing mantra of imagined violence, pulsing through his head as a hazy red mist.
The colt lead him on a long chance, down to the lowest level of the Bureau. Wrenn didn’t even spare a moment of accelerated time to ask himself why. All he could think was that the intruder couldn’t escape. Vengeance would be served.
He finally caught up to the Pegasus at the door to the Potion vault.
The Pony turned and tried to snap at him with his strong blunt teeth, but Wrenn slammed into him with too much force. It wasn’t even a contest. Once he had a hold on the colt, he squeezed until blood ran like waterfalls, drenching his forelegs.
He slammed his head and wings into the creature’s body over and over and over, his rage lending him strength. Long after the colt stopped breathing and screaming for mercy, he kept belaboring the body, until he realized it was melting.
His mind cleared, partially, and he realized the colt’s blood, which was all over his forearms, wings, and chest, was tainted with some kind of silvery viscous substance.
He dropped the corpse, and watched in horror and fascination as the rest of the body dissolved into a red stained pool of mercury like silver liquid.
Wrenn’s brain finally cleared completely, and a dozen questions came barreling in to take the place of his rage. Why had the intruder come here? What was he? Where had he come from?
A soft click demanded Wrenn’s attention.
He turned to see two tan armored soldiers leveling RAC-5s at his chest, the tips of the weapons adorned with sharp shining bayonets.
That answered the question of ‘where’ the colt came from, and in a sense ‘why.’
For whatever reason, the HLF, like the PER, wanted a sample of the new potion.
The strategy was ingenious. Their ambush at Carrenton had come with a built in failsafe.
If the PER won, there would be a prisoner on the inside who could relay information about them back to the HLF.
If Earthgov won, they would take in the ‘hapless poor colt’ and he would have an opportunity to sabotage the Bureau, doubtless the same mission the original infiltrator had been under.
That explained how the two augmented troopers had gotten into the facility.
Wren growled. He didn’t need words. Perhaps the odds weren’t in his favor, and perhaps that was his own fault, but that was no longer the main concern.
The main concern was living long enough to make sure Skye didn’t perish in vain.
That looked to be easier said than done. Wrenn had no armor, and no firearm, only his sword. The troopers before him looked to be heavily armed and armored. That in itself wasn’t a crushing advantage, but there were two of them, and one of him.
He inhaled and concentrated.
There was no way to avoid incoming fire in a space that small, not immediately.
The ceiling in the antechamber was too low for flights or flips.
The walls too close for him to find a space out of the line of fire.
He was going to get shot. That was the grim fact of the matter.
The only thing he could do was keep the impacts in non-critical areas, and close with his enemies as quickly as possible, rendering their firearms useless.
It would have to be a beak and claw close-in fight.
The first augmented trooper Wrenn had faced hadn’t been prepared for the ferocity of his onslaught. Presumably these two were more well prepared. Their bayonets were evidence that the HLF had already begun to learn lessons from Carrenton.
The instant he moved, the two intruders squeezed their triggers. Wrenn twisted and gyrated as best he could to avoid taking wounds in critical areas, but he felt the telltale searing heat of bullets entering his body in at least three places before he slammed into the two soldiers, sending himself into a tangle with them on the floor.
Wrenn grit his beak against the pain, and lashed out with his sword.
The first soldier rolled to avoid his strike, taking a glancing blow to his shoulderguard.
The second raised his rifle, countering with the bayonet. Wrenn adjusted his arc, slipped in underneath, and dealt the man a deep cut in his right glove.
He pulled back as far as he could without giving the two soldiers room to discharge their weapons, and swung again, changing the course of his blade mid-arc to put the tip into the space that soldier number one would be occupying if he dodged.
Wrenn was rewarded with the scrape of metal on metal as his sword put a deep gash in the man’s side. The wound spurted orange blood, but the soldier didn’t seem to care. Wrenn’s hypothesis was correct; The augments felt no pain.
Wrenn ducked to avoid fire from soldier number two, but paid for it when soldier number one clipped his left wing with his bayonet. Wrenn didn’t have the protection of his wing guards, so the strike drew blood and fractured bone. It also hurt far more than the bullet wounds, his wings were more sensitive.
Wrenn did his best to ignore the pain, and held his left wing tight against his body, canting the angles of his attacks to shield the injured extremity.
He was moving and thinking at the maximum speed he could force his body and brain to maintain. Neither soldier could hope to move or think at a similar speed, but they were still fast enough that it was getting increasingly difficult to defend against both of them simultaneously.
Incoming downward stab attack from the right, projectile attack from the left.
Duck, roll, push sword up and out to force back bayonet, lash out with back paw to force enemy projectile weapon off course.
Come up, spin, apply body slam to dislodge weapon from first soldier.
Wrenn’s unexpected tactic finally managed to relieve the man of his rifle.
He adapted quickly, taking a swipe at Wrenn with his fist just as his compatriot made another stab attack. The move was extremely well planned; Wrenn was boxed in and had to take the punch in order to avoid the knife.
The impact definitely cracked something in his head, he could hear the bone fracturing.
The sensation of pain was overwhelming, well beyond a migraine headache or any such miniscule inconvenience.
The shock also produced a new spurt of rage, which seemed to dull the pain immediately, giving Wrenn the impetus to swing his weapon in an instinctive series of twists, ending with it buried in the chest of the man who had been foolish enough to punch him.
Incredibly, the blow didn’t kill the cybernetically defended soldier, but it severed something critical in his nervous system; his right arm went limp. Wrenn pressed his advantage, but the other soldier kept up his bayonet attack, making it impossible to get the killing spinal slash he needed to even the odds.
Wrenn decided he would have to take a risk. If the battle kept up at such a pace, he would be worn down, and thus dead, long before anyone knew of his plight. If he could just separate the two soldiers, deal with one and then the other, he knew he had a good chance of winning.
The two troopers were smart, they knew their best chance lay in working in tandem, something they seemed to have been trained exceptionally well in. Wrenn had an idea how he could stop the joint attacks, but it would require enduring considerable pain, and even more risk.
He thought of Skye. Her broken body lying on a Manhattan street, because of *these* people and their damnable fanaticism. Their inability to cope with change. Their merciless immoral bent for needless violence against innocents.
Isaac Wrenn had one reason, deep down, for going through so much of his life friendless.
After the grenade that robbed him of his vision, and his closest friend, he had reached a conclusion; Relationships ultimately carried risks.
Risk of betrayal, which he had experienced so painfully first hand, risk of death, which he was now experiencing with Skye, risk of separation...
To protect himself, he had closed himself off.
Was it worth it either way?
Were relationships worth the risk?
Was security worth the loneliness?
A friend, one of the few he had so recently made, was dead because of her association with him.
Just like his first and closest friend was dead because he had chosen to squeeze the trigger so long ago.
Perhaps death would end the chain of suffering. If he died, then his actions and inactions would be redeemed by his sacrifice. If he lived, then perhaps the risks were ultimately worth it.
Perhaps he could learn to cope.
There was only one way to know.
Slowly, in order to make it believable, Wrenn began to lose momentum.
He nursed his injuries more than necessary, but not enough to be unbelievable.
He needed credibility.
As he slowed, ever so slightly, he began to open himself to attacks.
A gash here, a stab wound there, a broken bone in one foreleg....
The wounds hurt, but not nearly as much as the pain of loss.
In a way, the pain was cathartic.
It served a sacrificial purpose.
That made it bearable, until his work was finished.
Not long now.
Finally, he collapsed to the floor in a heap as the soldier with two working arms delivered a brutal kick that he dimly knew had to have shattered several ribs.
The man with the non-functional arm held back, nursing the huge gash in his chest to prevent nanotubes from leaking out and causing more damage.
Perhaps it was going to work.
Whether Wrenn lived or died now didn’t matter as much, as long as the two enemies he was fighting went with him.
The functional soldier knelt down, and placed his bayonet on Wrenn’s throat.
Wrenn could see all the damage he had caused to both men, and had they been normal humans, they would be writhing in agony, if not dead. But they weren’t normal humans, and he was the one in agony.
Now or never.
Wrenn reach up and grabbed the weapon, a shooting pain coursing through his broken foreleg in the process. For a moment, he struggled, his final burst of strength equally matched to the cybernetically augmented enemy standing over him.
He leaned into the motion, and rolled, pressing the weapon over and into the skull of his would-be assassin. The blade pierced the helmet and went directly between the man’s eyes and into his cortical node as Wrenn forced himself into a second wind. He let go of the rifle, leaving it embedded in the soldier’s head, and reacquired a grip on his sword.
He raised the weapon and slashed at the man, once, twice, thrice, severing his head entirely.
Wrenn staggered to his back paws, wobbling from the pain. His body needed to shutdown, needed to rest and regenerate, but he couldn’t afford to let it. His mind was still strong, and he poured that strength into his limbs, piling on all his emotions as they cascaded out of control again, dulling the pain and sharpening his reflexes.
The second soldier had recovered his weapon and was firing it again, pumping a steady stream of bullets in Wrenn’s direction, some of them hitting, some of them missing. He didn’t care.
He bounded across the space separating them, taking a stream of fire to one shoulder without pause, and began hacking desperately with his sword.
Whether by sheer dumb luck, or divine providence, none of the incoming rounds pierced his skull or heart.
Had the second soldier had the full use of both arms, Wrenn’s gambit would have failed.
Even with one arm, the man was capable of deflecting nearly half his blows.
But the ones that did land carried the last of Wrenn’s energy, a strength born of anger, sadness, and desperation.
It wasn’t until his strength waned and he was forced to drop the sword, that Wrenn realized the soldier had been dead for almost thirty seconds.
His fifth blow had been a lucky strike, it had bisected the man’s skull diagonally.
With the battle was over, Wrenn became acutely aware of his injuries.
He took stock;
Cracked ribs, fractured skull plate on the left side, broken foreleg, seven bullet wounds, all thankfully in non-critical areas, and a serious gash on his left wing.
Thousands of other small cuts and bruises, some bleeding fairly badly.
Nothing lethal, but any number of them could have been, and very nearly were.
Wrenn scrambled to the stairwell, staggering every few steps as his broken foreleg tried to give out. He switched to two legs again. Even though his sense of balance was still recovering from the blow to his head, his back legs were unharmed, making it easier overall to walk in spite of the dizziness.
He ascended the flights of stairs to the ground floor, his aches and pains gradually numbing once more as grief took the place of all else.
He walked into the lobby to find it in chaos.
The flashing lights of ambulances and police cars emanated from the street outside the front windows. Medical techs were dashing back and forth, as a broken figure was wheeled in on a stretcher.
Skye.
When he saw her, lying there, twisted at an unnatural angle, Wrenn finally broke down and wept.
A gaggle of medical personnel took note of him and sprinted over, one fumbling for an anesthetic.
Wrenn welcomed artificial unconsciousness.
Blissful escape.
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Two things with chapter 20;
1) I hope I did a good job of cementing just how dangerous the HLF really are, and how serious a threat the augmented soldiers present to Gryphons.
2) Bring tissues. (At least, I hope I can elicit a few tears)
I'm being a bit sadistic this time.
Bad stuff is gonna happen to good people.
Not only few tears had escaped my eyes. Poor Skye...
Oh, and good job on the story overall until now. Loved reading it.
Well... fuck.
You certainly did a good job with making Skye's (That name now seems like a morbid pun) death shocking. I actually had to double check it a few times to make sure I read that correctly. Also, that was a really good fight, very suspenseful. I thought Wrenn would be captured or something for a second there.
However, Project Horizons and Murky Number Seven has sort of made me build up a tolerance for the protagonist having to go through crushing (sometimes literally) trauma. Still, it was completely unexpected, making it have more impact.
You magnificent bastard.
The whole "technology can't go across equestria" seem a total FRIGE LOGIC to me, I mean, is it used to limit the amount of chaos that could happen or your headcanon? (remember, you have stuff like gaming consoles, computers and EGGs over in equestria)
754666
Technology can exist in Equestria, it just has to be built there.
Earth materials, and any Equestrian material that comes here, and then is synthesized into anything more complex than base elements and minerals, will dissolve going back over the barrier.
My presumption is that those computers, EEGs, and gaming consoles are actually a result of humanity's integration into Equestria.
We helped them develop Thaumatic computers.
754458
754657
754531
I hate Character death as much as anyone, and I hate doing it.
But it had to happen.
It's also not the last time someone close to Wrenn will die.
The griffins, at home and comfortable in open war and on the battlefield, must now deal with the psychological and emotional warfare that comes with an asymmetrically-minded opponent. Take away the respite needed after combat, and your own enemy's suspicion and hatred of you will wear them down as they try to fill the need to stay on guard at all times. Intangible effects aside, Skye was a big asset to the Earthgov faction. Unfortunately, that meant she was also a single point of failure, and the HLF obviously saw that too.
Another good, tightly-written fighting scene with spot-on pacing. It went on just as long as it needed to. I enjoyed it much more than the large-scale battle scene from earlier. Keep it up!
okay someone get me an ursa major and a book on bear taming, now it's war.
Well, damn. Skye was my favorite character.
And that fight scene, it was something else. Something different. Existential crises are one thing, but having one in the middle of a battle? Interesting.
As for the augmented soldiers, the scariest thing about them (in my combat-naive opinion) is that they can't feel pain. You can incapacitate someone with pain; cause pain, and they aren't going to think straight. If you can't cause pain, then they're just going to chug along at full power, barring any structural damage or blood loss.
You know what could make them really threatening? If they didn't feel pain, but injuring them caused a fight-or-flight response. You hacked off his arm? Nanotech is going to seal the wound very rapidly, and you just gave him even more superhuman physical abilities. Congratulations.
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Traditional Psyops are no good on Gryphons.
You can't scare them in the sense of 'oh no oh no! its coming to get me and hurt me!'
You have to play to their weak spots; their overriding need for loyalty, their deep camaraderie, and their utter refusal to cross certain moral lines.
754811
Yeah, its personal now, for all of them.
754873
There is another strong female lead in the works, hopefully that provides a modicum of partial consolation.
I'm crying too, and heck I wrote her death.
I loved that little Pony.
Wrenn's existential crises are by far and away not over with.
Being a Gryphon fixes *alot* of things.
Your emotional problems are not one of them.
If anything, it makes them a thousand thousand times worse because of the magnification.
that was certainly one of the most underhanded tactics used for info gathering I've ever seen in one of these TCB fics. I mean, really? Using and augmented pony (Newfoal?) just to gather info? How low can these assholes go.
754990
Its actually worse than that, believe it or not.
Explanation in forthcoming chapter.
The big question; how can a Pony kill?
Answer; because its not really a Pony.
755002
We talking changelings? Cuz it sounds like we're talking changelings.
755042
Sorta. Not precisely.
You'll see, in a few minutes hopefully.
Oh dear.....
I was not expecting that at all.
But I still have hope for Skye; her death was never exactly confirmed.
Ponies in general should have a tougher constitution.
Even so, if you, the author, decide to let her live, no doubt she probably be paralyzed.
........Cyber Pony mayhaps? Hmmmm?
EDIT
Gaaaah, never-mind; didn't bother to read the posts.
Still....mayhaps Necro-Cyber-Pony Skye a-la General Grievous?
images5.fanpop.com/image/photos/28700000/Pony-Grievous-my-little-pony-friendship-is-magic-28792642-500-295.png
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A few minutes???? Meaning tonight? AWwww yeah.
Awesome chapter, and a lot of NNNNOOOOOOOOOO!!!!11111
"His mind cleared, partially, and he realized the colt’s blood, which was all over his forearms, wings, and chest, was tainted with some kind of silvery viscous substance.
He dropped the corpse, and watched in horror and fascination as the rest of the body dissolved into a red stained pool of mercury like liquid."
>"silvery viscious subtance"
>"mercury like liquid"
Really?
upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/f/fc/T-1000_002.png
Paid for it.
the blade drew blood
I do love your stuff but these took me out of willing suspension of disbelief (on this read through).
The only thing I can cry from is pain, though sadness makes my throat hurt like someone is strangling me.
There's a pit of rage in my stomach after this. Poor Skye. I have faith that there will be blood for this. More in trade, and much more valuable blood, than Wrenn has already taken.
11569646
Well...
....Sort-of.
Have faith in general. Some setups and payoffs take time, and seem like they've been forgotten... Rest assured the Rube Goldberg machine is ticking away in the background.