WHERE'S MY POWERFEET, DIPSHIT?!

“JESUS CHRIST, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING TO MY HAND COCKSUCKER?” Pounder bellowed as the mare clamped itself around his appendage and giggled manically.

“I was right, I was right, I was right!” She chanted, completely ignoring Pounder’s quickly rising fury.

“NOT THIS SHIT AGAIN! GET THE FUCK OFF ME XENO OR I WILL RIP YOUR FUCKING HEAD OFF, SHOVE UP YOUR ARSE AND THEN WEAR YOU AS A HAT.”

The aqua pony ignored him, stubbornly remaining locked around his wrist.

Roaring in anger Pounder lived up to his threat, ripping the ponies head clean off in a shower of gore before shoving the still gibbering head up its own anus. Finally, Ponder plopped the remains of the pony on top of his helmet where it defied several laws of physics to sit like a grisly trophy.

“That piece of headgear is not an Departmento Munitorum approved piece of equipment”

“SHUT YOUR MOUTH FAGGOT, HATS ARE FUCKING COOL.”

“I SWEAR THAT JOKE IS MORE OVERUSED THAN A PRETTY MARINES VAGINA. FUCK.” Pounder rumbled. He hadn’t wanted to kill the pony but she had pushed him to the edge. Wishing he had something more interesting to fight, Pounder stomped off again.

It wasn’t long before something good happened. Pounder had only just rejoined his marines when his helmet’s vox snapped on.

“CAPTAIN, CHAOS DROP-SHIPS INBOUND. LOOKS LIKE A FUCKLOAD SIR.” The excited tones of the Battlebarge’s captain said over the vox.

“DID YOU STOP SUCKING THE SERVITORS DICK LONG ENOUGH TO TRACE THE SOURCE?” Pounder asked.

“YOU FUCKING BEAT WE DID SHITHEAD. MOVING TO ENGAGE.” He replied before the link snapped off.

“ALRIGHT LISTEN YOU DICKHEADS, THE PRETTY MARINE DICKMUCNHERS ARE COMING DOWN FOR ROUND TWO, LET’S MAKE THEM WELCOME WITH A SOLID KICK TO THE FUCKING BALLS!”

The assembled score of marines cheered in approval and the ground shook as the Belligerent Engine that accompanied them smashed the earth around him in excitement; the ancient warrior’s battle-rage already building to titanic proportions.

A quiet noise of someone clearing their throat made Pounder turn around. PRNCESS HORNFUCKER stood behind him an alarmed look on her face. She gaze flickered to Pounder’s helmet where the grisly remains of the pony were still jiggling around. With a sad sigh her horn lit up and the remains of the pony stitched themselves back together in a way that made even Pounder’s skin crawl in disgust. After a moment to pony sprang back to life, gagging and choking.

“LIKE THE TASTE OF YOUR OWN SHIT, PONYFAG?” Pounder boomed, glaring at the pony in a manner which would send most mortal creatures running in terror

“Up yours!” She bellowed before marching away indignantly.

“Please refrain from killing my subjects, bringing them back is… a painful experience, to say the least.” She said sourly, undoubtedly put out by Pounder’s action.

“AND WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT HORNFUCKER? STAB ME TO DEATH WITH KINDNESS?”

Celestia quietly sung something that sounded vaguely like ‘Fly me to the moon’ under her breath. “I possess great power Captain; you would be wise not to cross me.”

Pounder snorted derisively and tuned back to his marines, quickly figuring the Princess was not worth his time. He noticed many of his marines twitched angrily at the use of witchcraft; a few chainswords revved loudly and his super-human hearing could hear many tire irons and bats being hefted in a threatening manner.

“ARE YOU ALL FUCKING STUPID? GET MOVING COCKBAGS!” Pounder bellowed, gesturing in the vague direction the Chaos dropships were expected to land. One of his veterans fell into step beside him and pointed angrily at the princess. “BADGER. CUNT. FUCK. DICKS!” He roared insightfully making his opinion of PRINCESS HORNFUCKER apparent.

“YEAH SHE’S A FUCKING BITCH BUT WE’VE GOT PRETTY FAGGOTS TO FUCK OVER. WHERE THE HELL IS THAT FUCKING TECHMARINE? THERE’S SOME FAGGOTS THAT NEED A KICK TO THE BALLS AND THIS CHAIR WON’T CUT IT.”

The veteran thrust his finger in the direction of the crashed Thunderhawk. “DIPSHIT IS OVER THERE. BUSY SUCKING THE MACHINE SPIRIT’S DICK LAST I SAW.”

“WELL I HOPE HE GIVES GOOD HEAD, I WANT THAT THUNDERHAWK HIGHER THAN FUCKING DOOMRIDER BY YESTERDAY.” Pounder grunted, stomping towards the wreck, oblivious of the fact that several large hedges stood in his path. The tall bushes stood little chance as the enraged Space Marine tore through them like a Lascannon through a grot. As he reached the crash site he was surprised to see a few incredibly brave (or stupid) ponies sitting around the crumpled war machine, mouths agape in awe.

“WORK YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT. THE OMNISSIAH COMMANDS YOU.” came from the wreck, each word punctuated by the deafening peal of a hammer striking metal.

“Your flying machine appears to be broken.” A quiet voice said next to Pounder. Concealing his surprise, the captain looked down to see the diminutive form of a purple pony next to him.

“TWILIGHT FUCKTARD.” He rumbled, resisting the urge to punt the pony into the side of the wrecked Thunderhawk to see how big a bloodstain he could make.

“Hello Captain.” She said uneasy. “Your mechanic seems very… enthusiastic.”

Pounder grunted loudly and folded his arms across his chest.

The odd silence was split by a raging cry followed by another hammer blow. “CUNTNUGGETS!”

Silence.

“LOOKS LIKE DIPSHIT HAS GIVEN UP. FOR NOW.”

“What the fuck was that for?” Twilight asked. “He’s doing his best, no need to insult him!”

Pounder raised an eyebrow at the ponies foul language before remembering he had accidently taught her how to swear during his original visit. “DIPSHIT IS HIS NAME YOU STUPID FUCKING BITCH. NOW GO AND FIND SOME STALLIONS DICK TO SUCK BEFORE I DECIDE TO PLAY A GAME OF DARTS WITH YOU AS THE DART.”

“Oral sex is not what I had in mind for the evening…” Twilight said flatly.

“CHRIST.” Pounder said simply, slapping his armoured hand across his face. “JUST FUCK OFF, YOU’RE MORE ANNOYING THAN A PRETTY MARINE LINING UP FOR A JUSTIN BIEBER CONCERT.”

“Who?”

Pounder cupped his head in his hands and wondered what he’d done to deserve this.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING OUT HERE ANYWAY, DON’T YOU HAVE THE ‘MAGIC OF FRIENDSHIP’ OR SOME SHIT LIKE THAT TO HAVE SHOVED DOWN YOUR THROAT?”

Twilight shrugged “I noticed your mechanic was having trouble and I thought maybe I could help. I want to ask though, how does this thing fly anyway? It looks like you told aerodynamics to go fuck itself. Hard.”

“THE FUCK IS AERODYNAMICS? SOUNDS LIKE SOMETHING FOR HERETICS OR WEEABOOS.” Pounder asked before marching over to the Thunderhawk and smashing the hull with the palm of his hand a few times. After a moment a red armoured techmarine appeared from behind the turbolaser mount, a gigantic hammer held casually in one hand.

“WHAT DO YOU WANT FUCKFACE? I’M WORKING HARDER THAN A SLAANESHI WHORE UP HERE.”

“PURPLE FUCK OVER THERE WANTS TO HELP YOU, DIPSHIT.”

Dipshit looked at the small crowd of ponies and picked out the purple pony Pounder described. “WHAT THE FUCK COULD SHE DO? LUBE THE ENGINE? YOUR MOTHER COULD DO MORE THAN HER AND ALL SHE’S GOOD FOR IS GETTING FUCKED IN THE ARSE BY HAIRY MEN. FUCKING XENO PROBABLY KNOWS AS MUCH ABOUT THREE POINT POWER CONVERTORS AS YOUR DICK, WHICH IS TO SAY, NOTHING.”

“FUCK OFF.” Pounder yelled back, gently unholstering his powerchair and placing with almost loving care against the bent hull of the Thunderhawk. “YOU GOT ANY POWERFEET? FAGGOTS NEED THEIR BALLS KICKED IN.”

“”WHAT DO YOU THINK? COURSE I GOT SOME YOU FUCKING IDIOT. YOU TAKE JUST ONE THOUGH, IF I FIND YOU WITH POWERFEET STRAPPED TO YOUR ARMS AGAIN I’LL SHOVE THIS TURBOLASER DOWN YOUR THROAT AND OUT YOUR FUCKING ARSEHOLE.”

“FUCK YOU, MACHINE WHORE.”

Dipshit happily raised his middle finger, flipping Pounder the bird with unrestrained joy.

Pounder returned the gesture and ripped off the side door of the Thunderhawk in his haste to get to the destructive equipment kept inside. Ignoring the loud and ungraceful protests of the Techmarine on top of the hull, Pounder entered the darkened interior and looked around slowly. After a quick scan of the cargo bay his eyes locked on a metal crate labelled 'FOR KICKING THOSE FUCKS IN THE BALLS!'

Pounder grinned widely under his helmet. This was going to be fun.