I Blame You, Too

by Whitestrake

In 2006 a man hired a hitman to kill his wife. His wife ended up killing the hitman with her bare hands.

@#@#@# Amos's POV @#@#@#

I puffed on one of Oleg's lho sticks as I reclined in the strider, not quite caring about what was happening elsewhere on the ship. Dahl and Delray were kept near-comatose, feed only by intravenous nutrient packs; this was done to ensure neither of them could actively interfere with the Gellar field and allow the ship to truly mingle with the Warp. I felt my face contort around the narcotic stick in mouth as I remembered what I had seen when I made the mistake of looking into the swirling maelstrom mere meters from me. There was nothing discernible to my eyes, though I could feel eternity staring back at me. I could only imagine how terrifying it must have been to be a psyker, what it must have felt to feel something so powerful at all times. Would Taylor and Jay feel that if they were on the Valkyire? Could they feel it on Equus?

“I wouldn't know; I'm not exactly a psyker,” Taylor said, poking his head from behind a corner. A pony, I recalled his name being Shining Armor, did the same, his head coming to a stop just below Taylor's. They were both smiling, and it was then I noticed the pony was wearing a collar with an earpiece.

“We figured we could at least try to make the most of your month in a big, metal box,” the stallion said, doing what I thought of as a poor job hiding his enthusiasm at being spaceborne, much like Taylor had during his first breach. It was then that I realized the collar was a translator, and another example of tech-heresy performed by a man who was arguably the most agreeable heretic I had even had the pleasure of meeting. “We brought booze.”

With that, Taylor reach behind the corner and produced a bottle of what appeared to be amesac, followed by numerous other liquors, some of which I had seen him drink during his recovery. I recalled then something a priest told me back on home, about how tempting the enemies of the Emperor could be, how they took the forms of the Tau, the Ork, and even our fellow men. Was the supposed harmony the ponies lived in, the peace they shared with their neighbors, so different to the Tau's Greater Good? Were the princesses so different to the mysterious Ethereal Caste?

“Possibly, but maybe not, depending on how sound my information is,” Taylor answered, reading my mind again. He and Shining Armor fully stepped in, completely uninvited, and I had no real reason to ask them how they managed to get aboard.

“Listen, man, I need to ask you something,” the stallion said as he pulled a slim bottle form a bag he had tossed over his back. Both of them were clothed casually, or unclothed in the case of Shining Armor, and I suddenly realized it was perhaps the second time I had seen either of them in a relaxed state. “Hoe do you know so much about everything going on?”

Now, I'll say right now that I had no idea where the conversation was going, nor what brought there, but I will say the Burned Man had his stoic face turn into a half-defeated grin. There was no hope there, as though suddenly everything positive inside his soul had been turned to cold lead. He raised the bottle of amesac and took a long swig, smiling grimly as he placed back on the small card table between us. He took a breath and looked at both of us.

“Drink up, guys; this is going to be one hell of a revelation. Amos, the same goes for you, probably more.”

@#@#@#@#@#@#

Lord Inquisitor,

I am Amos Till, former member of Inquisitor Reglan Dahl's retinue. I send this on his behalf to inform you that we have apprehended the rogue inquisitor Leon Ophidia. As we tailed him through the Warp, we came across an uncharted world. The native provided aid as they could, and it is only through them that we were able to complete our mission. Sadly, as joyous as I am to have done the Emperor's will, it brings me sadness to inform you that Reglan Dahl had been seduced by the power of Chaos. We have them both, as well as the corpse of a slain member of the foul Black Legion, locked away on the Skyward Valkyrie, and wish to present them to His Holy Inquisition for proper judgment to be passed.

The limitations of astropathic communications do not allow me to present all the evidence I have against Inquisitor Dahl, but I can guarantee his guilt.

The Emperor Protects,

Amos Till

Lord Inquisitor Dorosa looked over the astropathic telegram in her hands, fresh from the Inquisition's choir. Beneath the actual text was the emotion attached to the message, recorded by her assistant. According to him, the astropath aboard Shipmaster Delray's vessel was easing down from a serious anxiety attack, the memories of pain and death fresh in his mind. Beneath those scribbling was a crude sketch, a fanciful hobby Dorosa allowed her assistant, of a human man, and she only knew it was a man because half his face was visible.

The man was clad in black armor, so dark the ink was still moist enough to come off on Lord Inquisitor's fingers, and his helmet, which was more of a full-faced mask, seemed to be bone-white. In one hand, he clutched a sabre, which her assistant had take the liberty of drawing wavy lines around in order to indicate it was a powersabre; the other hand held a horned helmet, covered in runes to the Dark Gods. This man was known as the Burned Man, a psychic overlay of a figure the Valkyrie's astropath, the one who killed the Black Legionnaire.

“Vincent, deliver a note to the chief astropath; I wish to see this Burned Man when we bring the traitors to justice.” Dorosa nodded to her assistant, Inquisitor Vincent Price, a psyker she had recruited from a small village on a half-controlled world in the Damocles Gulf. That was nearly a century and a half ago, back when she was a field inquisitor with the Ordo Malleus. She knew how to handle daemons and Chaos Space Marines, but she was more interested in the man who managed to kill one of the heretical monsters. As she stared at the crude drawing, she wondered aloud, “Who are you, little psyker? Do you fear the God-Emperor?” She smiled like a hungry shark circling her prey.

“If I find even the slightest taint within you, Burned Man, I'll make sure you fear Him in your final moments.”

@#@#@# Taylor's POV @#@#@#

I could feel their apprehension at all I had told them. I had avoided specifics for as long as I could, speaking mostly of the multiverse as a whole. I made sure both of them understood I was not from Equus, I would never be a native to the world; my daughter was the only point my genes were introduced to that world, that universe.

“Yeah, I knew that already,” Armor said, swaying slightly in his seat. I could feel the drink's effects on him just as surely as I could feel my own. Amos was fairing about as well as I was, barely rocking on the currents Shining Armor perceived when I told him the Valkyrie was a ship. “What's this got to do with anything? Like the fake assassination and stuff?”

“Alright, you know those comics in the newspaper?” I asked, letting the words hang in the air. Amos probably had no idea what in the hell I was talking about. It took a minute for Shining to get it, but I could see the realization spread from his eyes out, putting the pieces together like only a drunk man could. “Sorry, man, you're a moving comic book where I'm from.”

“That's fucked up,” Amos said, taking a pull from the clear liquor in his hand. He looked like he was about to laugh, but saw how much of an effect the news had on the stallion. He patted his free hand on Shining Armor's back, and scooted next to him. “Come one, man; it's not all bad. We've got these pict-vids back in the Imperium that sound kinda like Equus, and people love them.”

“Yeah, Shining, listen to him,” I said, trying not to look guilty. I had kept the secret for the best part of a decade, and only the princesses knew, minus Cadence and Twilight. Everyone else figured we were just a couple guys from another universe who managed to stumble into moderate success. “We're all fiction in the larger scheme of things.”

“Seriously, the Imperium might be a boardgame for all I know,” Amos laughed, looking at me for confirmation that he wasn't just some child's plaything. When I returned the laugh halfheartedly, his expression grew more grim. “We're not, right? Please tell me kids don't toss little Space Marines and Guardsmen around like toy soldiers.”

“Well... not exactly...”

Author's Note:

Comments

[Nightmare Wolf]

I wonder how Amos will react to the news, that he's just a resin cast figurine.

[Coltsguy]

It's hilarious to think just how close he got to nailing it with the board game thing.

[Dubious]

Right, bored again.

[Bronydragon]

You are a game in our world Amos!
Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat!!!!!???
Noooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!
Muhahahahahahahahaha!!!

Dragon

[G S tol Kriaal]

Hoe do you know

I think you mean "how"

[Chuck Baleigh]

3120042
Fucking dammit, I had no idea a plasma cutter was an actual tool. Now I feel stupid.

[Razzy]

Ehh, for all intents and purposes the most probable explanation is that creative people skirt other universes with their imagination and that's where inspiration comes from, hence the similarities.