I Love the Smell of Friendship in the Morning

by Moosetasm

Espresso Elevator to Tartarus, Going Down

Fray grunted with effort.

Her chainblade was stuck.

Again.

She curled, flexing her stomach muscles so she could plant one of her hind-hooves into the gut of the heretic who currently housed her weapon. She kicked away and chomped down on the accelerator bit in her mouth and was rewarded by the revving of the motor, a violent tearing sound, and a whinny/shriek. A fountain of crimson spray doused Fray as her chainblade tore itself free of the heretic’s chest.

What was that? Ten now?

She spun around, her weapon screaming almost as loud as she was, and watched as three more heretics lost vital portions of their abdomens.

Thirteen.

“Commissar?” She called out. Instead of a witty repartee or a comment about being “knee deep in heresy,” she was rewarded with more snarls and the sound of clanking bionics on metal floor plating.

There was no end to the bipeds, it was like somepony was breeding the thrice damned things. The very thought of breeding bipeds caused her gorge to rise, so she compensated by somersaulting to one of the monstrosities and by bringing the chainblade up between their hind legs.

They screamed soprano before perishing.

Fourteen, I wonder if they’ve made it to the Marecanicus Shrine yet?

Fray hadn't seen or heard the Commissar or the Twins for about—

She executed a flurry of furious slashes.

Fifteen, sixteen.

—sixteen heretics now.

The plan had been going so well, how did things get so out-of-hoof?

++ Ten Minutes Earlier ++

The infiltration to the facility started smoothly enough, though Fray watched with some trepidation as an entire platoon of bipeds took off in hot pursuit of Point & Owly.

Even the Commissar seemed surprised, muttering something to the effect of “they must be packing them in there like canned carrots.”

They approached the primary outbuilding, an incredibly large structure which was a curious mix between a cathedral and barn, unseen. They avoided the overly-large loading doors, which were wide enough to accommodate several tanks, and moved towards a smaller postern access. Then they waited as the Twins… interfaced with the security door until it opened with a satisfied sigh.

Fray entered the building first and began to scout a well-lit expanse that appeared to serve as some kind of machinery maintenance bay; it was filled with assorted engines, arcane contraptions, and two deep, ramped recesses in the floor that were similar to the vehicle servicing pits used at Equestrian Guard facilities. She swore under her breath at the Byzantine placement of the equipment; the sight lines in the room were blocked at irregular intervals and made Fray’s ambush sense tingle. She craned her neck to look around the side of some gigantic arcane contraption when Nutmeg called out to her.

“Hey! Fracas! Quit horsing around and—”

Fray leaned back to better hear the Commissar’s order. The action saved her life. A wicked claw rocketed from around the corner and embedded itself in the machine right where her head had been.

She drew her chainblade in an instant and severed most of the head of the biped that had surprised her, as well as the appendage that it was unsuccessfully trying to dislodge from the machinery.

One.

Fray heard the whip-crack of las fire and spun to see a biped go down with a steaming crater where its forehead had been.

“Move it or lose it, Fury!” the Commissar bellowed around his smoking laspistol before shooting two more bipeds through their ugly mugs.

She moved to cross the space between her spotty cover and the wide-open pit that the Commissar and the Twins were occupying, but the Commissar suddenly shouted again: “Forget it! Fall b—” The Commissar fired his weapon multiple times past a giant engine that Fray couldn't properly see around. “Horseapples!” The exclamation came as about two dozen bipeds stormed the pit simultaneously, driving the Commissar and the Twins back and out of Fray’s sight.

Fray’s eyes widened as some of the monstrosities took notice of her and charged in her direction. She bit down and her chainblade roared.

++ Back to the Future Present ++

Two rooms, one tunnel, fifteen additional corpses, and an indeterminate amount of time later, and she still hadn’t found the Commissar or the Twins.

She muttered several epithets as she smashed one of her fore-knees into an errant piece of piping. There was barely enough light to for her navigate by, which meant fine details and anything more than a few standard mare-lengths away were completely obscured. Her nose caught only the most faint smell of unguents and holy machine oils, which spoke of how long it had been since the tunnel had last seen a tech-pony.

Her eyes finally picked up a source of slightly brighter illumination and she followed it to some sort of confluence. The space was a decent size, about thirty hoof-lengths across. Six other unremarkable, and to her eyes completely identical, passages led in different directions. Fray swore and smacked a hoof against the concrete of the nearest wall. She’d lost all sense of direction after a few minutes in the tunnel and had no idea in what direction the Marecanicus shrine lay.

A loud snarl allowed Fray to easily sidestep a series of sloppy knife swings from a maroon mare who sprang from the shadows of one of the tunnels. Fray gave silent thanks to Celestia that these bipeds loved growling so much, it greatly reduced the effectiveness of their ambushes. She hadn't really thought about it until now, but as she easily parried another set of pathetic attacks, realization struck; for a “pinnacle of the profane arts,” the bipeds were about as skilled as foals when it came to blade-play. And tactics.

Fray feinted and quickly spun around when the mare moved to block an attack that never came. Fray’s blade bit into the mare’s neck and Fray leaned in to force the roaring weapon downward. The heretic’s shrieks reverberated in tune with the blade teeth as they did their work:

“Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah—!”

Chunk.

The mare stopped screaming as the blade’s teeth caught on some of the bionics in her neck. Her frantic eyes darted from the mangled ruin currently housing Fray’s chainblade, to Fray, and then back again to the wound.

Fray sighed around the bit of the weapon and rolled her eyes. Trauma wasn’t kidding about the bionics being a pain. She bit down and pulled back. Instead of the weapon coming free like the last three times, it remained caught and she ended up slamming the mare into one of the walls.

She heard a click followed by a chuckle and swore loudly as she opened her mouth to abandon the chainblade and turned to face the new threat.

“How’s them forehooves work’n out for ya, lapdog?” The drawling heretic stallion was a good thirty or forty hoof-lengths away on the other side of the confluence and had a lasrifle aimed at her.

Fray knew she wasn't fast enough to close the distance, and the tunnels that actually offered cover were too far away for her to dive into as well.

“How bouts you turn around. Don't want no more surprises outta ya.” He put a digit on the trigger when she hesitated.

She started to turn but kept her eyes on the heretic. She jolted to a halt when the stallion spoke again.

“Slowly! So’s I can ad’mire the scenery, if you take mah meanin.”

She suppressed her overwhelming disgust as she continued to turn and thought of the options she had. If she was fast enough, she could draw the combat knife in her cannon holster and put it right through one of the stallion’s leering eyes. She also had her laspistol tucked into one of her saddle holsters. She would just need to time drawing one of her weapons with her own rotation to catch him unawa—

“Y’all is be’n real quiet.” The stallion grinned, displaying a mouth full of sharpened metal teeth. “I likes that in a mare, n‘less I wants em ‘ta sque—hrrrk!”

Fray blinked. There had been a flash of movement as the heretic’s lewd declaration had been cut short.

The stallion’s eyes rolled back in their sockets and he started making odd choking noises. The las rifle slowly lowered and he took several stumbling steps forward. The lasrifle fired once, and then again into the floor before the stallion fell face-first to the concrete. The back of his skull appeared to have grown the bit of an Equestrian Guard combat knife.

Fray could barely make out the outline of a pony in the dim tunnel behind the dead heretic. The shadow took several slow steps forward, revealing a chestnut stallion clad in Equestrian Guard flak armor. It was Point!

She galloped over to him and wrapped a hoof around his barrel in embrace. “Wow, am I glad to see you! I was gonna take his perverted flank out myself, of course, but I was just—” her hoof brushed along Point’s side, coming into contact with something wet and sticky. She pulled away from him and looked down at her hoof. It glistened red in the dim light. Her gaze slowly drifted back up to Point’s face, and it was only then that she noticed how unsteady his stance was.

Fray watched with mounting dread as Point looked her in the eyes, put on the stupid grin he always liked to wear, and collapsed to the floor of the tunnel.

Comments

[CoffeeMinion]

It's fun reading the finished version of this. I think it came together well and maintains good tension. Fray's senses of confusion and isolation come through very strongly.

[MisterNick]

It seems Point may have caught his namesake at some moment in time. Good fun. Nice isolation and all with chunky bits too! One note you have There was barely enough light to for her navigate by, when I think you mean There was barely enough light for her to navigate by.

Keep up the good work! This is very fun.

[FanOfMostEverything]

Well, that's several kinds of not good. Heck of a cliffhanger for a heck of a chapter. Great fight choreography. As has been said, you capture frantic chaos and dread anticipation equally well.