My Little Warhorse.

by Director Waffles

Rating: teen
Tags: Gore, Dark, Alternate Universe, Halo, Other, Original Character, Equestria Girls, Science Fiction, Profanity, Adventure, Violence, Crossover, Death, Human, Sunset Shimmer, Twilight Sparkle
Length: 29552

Sunset Shimmer is a hardened veteran of war, brought to the New World by a magical accident. Twilight Sparkle is a sheltered mare, arriving under similar circumstances. The two must journey a harsh world to survive a new threat from beyond the stars.

(Story is part of a greater crossover universe, yet to be named, first installment. Criticism is welcome!)

Sunset Shimmer is a tool of war; a damned good one at that. Since as long as she could remember she was clawing and fighting her way through whatever her leaders threw her at and whatever was thrown at her. Where all others are born into the all-encompassing war machine, she is adopted, for she is not human. Although she knows it not, Sunset Shimmer was born a pony.

Twilight Sparkle, born a unicorn to a pair of political dissidents in a world of tyranny and oppressive governance, knows herself to be a harbinger of friendship and the farthest anypony could be from a soldier, despite her upbringing.

Two fates, hideously intertwined by bad luck and chance. Will they overcome the obstacles ahead or will they falter?

Published 2018-07-28 16:50:01 UTC
Last updated 2019-02-14 10:55:51 UTC

Prologue: The Thames.

“Just a gigolo… And ev’rywhere I go…”

The VNC Thames floated dormant within the vast expanse of space within the Aristotle’s Eye, a system hundreds of thousands of light years away from the Sol System where Earth and her colonies were just beginning their development into a galactic power, a massive system surrounded by beautiful clouds of gases and star formations, filled with many hospitable planets and stars orbiting a greater star that made each planet, gas giant and star look miniscule in comparison, a beautiful blaze of white-blue flame that burned bright enough to illuminate and warm every planet and star in its orbit.

“… People know the bar I’m playin’…

Among the Thames, were the Venators Mecca, Gao, and the Edison, hulking vessels that spanned roughly seven kilometers in length and half that in height and a third in width, forming a thick, triangular base that sloped upward toward the back, where six massive thrusters were stationed, powered by cold-fusion engines. The triangular rear supported a large, oblong frontal hull that shared the same width of the ship, albeit longer and making up the entire front half of the ships, supported by thick, rigid and edged patterned armour plating, with the exception of the ‘head’ of the ships, which was bulbous with rounded corners and curves to contrast the blocky design of the rest of the ship. The Thames was the exception, as rather than having a triangular base, it had two protruding rectangular blocks with the secondary thrusters on the back, the primary thrusters and engines mounted on the middle, central body of the ship. Less blocky armour, the outer covering being smoother and less dotted with various protrusions except for the top and bottom sections.

“… Paid for every dance… Sellin’ each romance…”

Below the Thames, a planet of red—really orange—deserts, seas of glistening, clean water, and the remains of civilization that were left over from wars that left the planet in such a state of anarchy that it was abandoned. Ships laid half-buried in the many deserts of red sand, with entire cities and towns in similar states of disarray. Others within the beautiful biomes of green grass and blossoming flora, often with nature taking back the super-cities and towns from a once booming civilization, now a monument to what could go wrong.

“Every night some hearts… betrayin’…”

Within the winding corridors of the Vanguard Naval Cruiser Thames, an atrium was bustling with activity. Soldiers in reddish desert-pattern digital camouflage combat uniforms were lined up in messy lines and groups, listening as a Non-Commissioned Officer of the Vanguard Colonial Army—adorned in a crisp, double-breasted uniform jacket, jackboots and dress-pants of similar colouring—was being publicly commended and promoted by another person, a Commissioned Officer of the Navy, dressed in a similar uniform, except his was white, and his epaulettes were gold with a single blue star woven into the fabric above the golden maile.

“There will come a day…”

The officer spoke highly of the woman, giving her praises for acts of bravery and courage on the battlefield. Her expression was violently neutral; however, her eyes showed her displeasure, and gave a glimpse into the kind of woman she was—cynical, experienced, the term ‘scarred’ comes to mind. A hardened veteran of war, with one leg held up at a ninety-degree bend, with a form of crutch holding it up, with a rubber foot and metal-legged peg supporting the weight she could not, and one arm in a sling, with only a bandaged nub from a little past the elbow within.

“Youth will pass away…”

The crowds of soldiers were made up of uniformed or armoured men and women, sometimes creatures of non-human origin. Some were roughly seven feet, others rounding out to about nine to ten feet, wearing thick armour that matched—mostly—in design compared to their human counterparts.

For the tall, alien creatures, they had thick breastplates and abdominal plates, two belts of equipment along their hips, a sheathe or two on the back of the hip, sleek greaves and thigh plates. Pauldrons on the top pair of arms, with a universal set of upper-arm plates, elbow-pads of sorts, and forearm protection. Simplistic full-head covering helmets, with a “pinched” oblong style of visor that stretched to cover their four eyes and provide accurate view-sight, sometimes with 40mm-esque filters or tubes attached to the “cheeks” of the helmets, the tubes would stretch to the back of the helmet, serving mostly an aesthetic purpose. Some of the humanoid creatures sported white symbols on the left breast of their torso-plates, glyphs or sigils, one could say. Plain ghosts to their old allegiances, often simple, crude and used drippy white paint that bled when applied.

The humans had similar armour—minus the symbols, rather sporting basic emblems or family coats of arms. The armour composed of similar helmets—smaller, thinner visors, with basic “muzzles” that pushed out a bit further, with either filters on the sides, or tubes. Their armour composed of two thick plates that made the breastplates, with thinner plating that lined the abdomen, with small bumps and spiked pieces along the spine and plates covering the lower back, a thick set of plating covering the upper torso, linking with the thick breastplate. A large, bulbous pauldron on the left shoulder, a smaller, often spiked or visceral plate armour on the right. Form-fitting plating on the upper-arms, elbow and forearm protection, with a TAC-PAD mounted on the non-dominant arm’s bracers. Sleek leg armour—greaves with knee-pads and shin-guards and thigh-plating. Some had robotic replacement limbs, either from the shoulder or pelvis down. Never was there only a replaced forearm or calf.

“… Then what will they say about me?”

“… And I bestow upon you, Miss Sunset Shimmer of the Vanguard Thirty-First Army, Mesa Corps, Vulture Division, Twelfth IMAT Regiment, Cavalry Battalion, Company D, the rank of Gunnery Sergeant. May you lead your soldiers well and fight with honour.” The officer replaced her simple silver epaulettes with a set of similar ones. They shared the same primarily silver colouration, except for one golden chevron at the top, and a single red star. They were fastened to her uniform’s shoulders by the officer. Afterward, he threw up a salute—the right index and middle fingers positioned near the temple. Sunset returned the salute, stepping down from the raised platform in front of her fellow soldiers. She walked through the crowd to leave, getting bumps to the arm or pats to the back in recognition.

“When the end comes I know…”

Sunset barely reached the edge of the crowd when the Thames suddenly rocked, sending most of them to the floor, or in a similar state as explosions suddenly shook them to their cores. Sunset was sent flying into the door. Her head impacted the bulkhead hatch, and she soon made close friends with the floor, with a steady line of blood trickling down the side of her head. Her ears rang as she slowly lost consciousness.

Sunset awoke to the feeling of falling. Alarms rang out all around her. She was being dragged out of the atrium by one of the humanoids from the crowd—an Eliksni Corporal of one of the EMC—Emergency Medical Care—Battalions, in two arms one of the narrow-bodied precision rifles for Riflemen, the barrel was short, however the “scaffolding” rails and supports around the barrel that made up the body of the rifle allowed for a wide-variety of modifications. Thin rib-style rail covers covered the internals of the bullpup rifle, a bulbous, ribbed scope mounted on the receiver’s rail—a TZ12 medium-range scope. She was placed against a wall as the Eliksni rushed forward to engage what was assumed to be the attacker.

It stood at twelve feet, with long, lanky limbs and black, callused skin, with wisps of smoke rising off of it, with three-fingered claws that were curved and ready to slice open whatever came close. Its face was hidden, covered by a brown hood attached to a cloak that hung low and covered the legs and body of the beast, hiding any armour that it may have. The EMC Corporal fired the piercing rounds of his rifle at the beast, only for them to tear into the cloak and either plink harmlessly off of an unseen metal, or dent the thick, callused skin.

The beast screamed at the corporal and launched itself forward with a frightening pace, impaling it on one claw, using the other to crush its helmet like a tin can, causing a burst of white matter to rise from the body as it went limp. It tossed the body away and turned to face Sunset, ready to move on her dormant form, when two smaller Eliksni jumped onto its back—Stealth Drakes, as they were nicknamed—armed with light kukri-esque serrated blades, stabbing at it in hopes to kill the monster. Sunset couldn’t make any more of the fight out before blacking out again…

”… As life goes on…”

Sunset’s consciousness returned to her with a start. She was lying, pinned under a shattered pipe, her leg impaled on a sharp piece of metal. She saw fires alight in the distance, the sound of gunfire filling the night, along with screams and howls of utterly inhuman beasts. The sound of flowing liquid caught her attention, as she looked slightly to her left, to find a tipped fuel barrel slowly leaking its fuels onto the metal beside her, slowly dripping down to her face. Fear wracked her mind as she struggled to move—let alone save herself.

Looking around, Sunset found she was surrounded by piles of corpses and debris—some on fire, with a few of them being taken from the piles by those black creatures to be placed onto pikes or Hedgehog-like barriers… Some were still alive. Dozens of the hulking monstrosities limbered about, doing the previously stated task, or adding to the piles. The sounds of footsteps approached as Sunset let her head hit the ground, panting. The exertion from holding her head up was too much—blood loss and injury left her weak.

“Well, well… It appears one of the vermin is still alive… and kicking.” The voice penetrated the air and made Sunset grimace. Deep, gravely and full of arrogance and pride. Sunset cried out as she felt herself picked up by one of the black beasts. Her leg spurted blood, and she screamed, crying out in agony as the excruciating wound was worsened. It took her a few seconds to open her eyes, and when she did, Sunset wished she hadn’t.

Standing ahead of her, towering a few feet taller than the rest, was a light-gray skinned monstrosity, with the same lanky limbs, with an almost regal air about him. He wore not a hood, rather thick, rusted metal armour on his body, and a crown of bone and flesh. His face was disgusting—with six, beady black eyes that oozed malice, hate and entropy. And a mouth holding several long, disgusting tongues that hung out, with several mandibles lined with teeth that opened up far more than they seemed like they were supposed to, supported by bolted metal plates. It let out a laugh and tossed Sunset back to the ground. She coughed, and rolled onto her stomach, desperately trying to crawl away.

“Your entire army is weak.” The Alpha—as she dubbed the bastard—kicked Sunset, causing her to fly to the left, impacting a large metal hull piece. She tried to get to her hands, only to find herself off-balanced due to her lacking a leg and an arm.

“Undisciplined.” He planted his clawed foot on her back and pushed her down, causing her to lose whatever strength she had gained. Sunset coughed and sputtered.

“A dirty bug that doesn’t know when to give up.” He picked up Sunset and stared her in the eye.

“Remember me… I am Orruth, Conqueror of Worlds and Destroyer of Civilizations… and I will eradicate all… filth… from this planet!” He threw Sunset onto a plate, next to the same fuel barrel, now forming a puddle that splashed across her face. Orruth scraped his claws against the barrel, causing sparks to ignite. Sunset desperately tried to get away as the flames approached. Orruth strode away, a wicked grin encompassing his face as Sunset’s screams filled the air, and the smell of burning flesh reached his nostrils…

“… Without me…”

Author's Note

This is the final reboot of the Sunset-Shimmer-In-Vanguard-AU story I'll be writing, if it doesn't gain any traction and gets grounded, the series shall be put to rest, as I've written 2-3 other variants of this story before.

This story is going to--primarily--focus on the story of Sunset Shimmer, her life, as well as Twilight and how she adapts to this new world she's been thrown into, once she's introduced.

My Little Warhorse takes place in the Vanguard-AU.

Chapter One: The Beginning of the End

Author's Note

Reuploaded after bulk-rewrite of the pony-parts!

Sorry.

Chapter One: The Beginning of the End

Sunset expected not to wake up. She expected that she’d succumb to her wounds, and die, maybe peacefully. Maybe she wouldn’t have to fight a war with the savages that sought to destroy the way of life that she had never experienced—or wanted to fight for.

Her memory was scarce of what her life was before she was fourteen except for the rigorous training, being a shithead with the few friends she had. Sunset was told it was amnesia from being hit with a crowbar by another “student.” Knowing herself, she probably deserved it. Sunset tormented and downright tortured the other child soldiers of the Harmony-One Project. She made a living hell for the Instructors—slave-masters, a nickname she aptly gave to the Drill Instructors of HOP.

Thinking about her ‘childhood’ in HOP brought a splitting headache and mangled feelings of nostalgia and pride, intermittent with regret and anger that she couldn’t place, as if they were hidden in a massive vault buried under a field of concrete, point-defense guns and chains.

Speaking of… Shouldn’t I be… not capable of pain? Self-thought? Or any thought for that matter…? Sunset pondered. This left her with a few conclusions; she was a vegetable, she was in a coma, or worse… She didn’t die. A seething pain decided to suddenly embed itself within, and Sunset found herself annoyed.

I suppose self-awareness has its cons, perhaps…? Or I’m waking up. Either way, I don’t like this… She pondered. As these feelings became prominent, Sunset felt what she thought to be consciousness coming to her.

Sunset’s eyes cracked open, and she felt the need to cough. She was in a medical tunic and a pair of sandals, with a cool breeze crossing her face. Sitting beside her, in a stool, was an Eliksni Vandal—a middle-class of their hierarchy, and a lower-ranking of soldier. A grunt, if there ever was one, with a stature not much taller than six feet, with all four arms, though. The almost insectoid Eliksni relied on a system of ranking to determine how large they grew to be, and this continued after the war between them and the Vanguard Colonial Federation. Lower-ranking members of the Marine Corps, Army, Navy, whatever, would receive less of the “ether” as it was called, that allowed for their bodies to continue to grow. Most common were the six-to-seven-foot Vandals and seven-to-ten-foot-tall Captains. Vandals made up a minority of the enlisted ranks as skillful marksmen and CQB specialists, whilst Captains dominated the frontlines as Commanding Officers, engineers and Heavy-Weapons specialists.

Sunset recognized the Eliksni immediately from his armour and the weapon that sat between his legs and had all four arms resting on. This was Staff-Sergeant Ferleks, her once platoon commander, now second-in-command… that is, if she survived long enough to stay in service. As far as Sunset knew, and was concerned, she was dying, and command would stay with Ferleks. Sunset coughed and tried to sit up.

“Morning, ‘Licks…” She croaked out, coughing and sputtering. Ferleks noticed and helped her into an upright position.

“For a few moments, I thought you were dead.” Ferleks responded. His voice was gravely, and it reminded her of Scream from the Scary Movie series, an ancient creation spared from the massive loss of cultural artifacts that came from going through a vicious Worm-hole.

“As did I… Am I? … Dead?” She reiterated. This roused a quiet chuckle from Ferleks.

“No, Sunset… You’re dying, not dead.” He replied. Sunset gave a solemn nod and stretched.

“Damn… What the hell even happened? I feel like my face is on fire, and… Why are you giving me that look?” Sunset stopped mid-sentence to note that Ferleks was giving her a grim smirk.

“I mean, it’s not far from the truth. Need a mirror?” ‘Licks asked. Sunset nodded, and was handed his helmet, which bore a dome-stylized EVA Visor, akin to the old helmets used by early twenty-first century astronauts used, albeit more… metal, and sturdy, with black foam padding lining the inside of the helmet. She caught it with two hands—and found that her stub had been replaced by a shiny metal forearm with a lithe, black metal chassis. Likely, the rest of her arm had been replaced too. She clenched her robotic hand and unclenched, placing the helmet beside her for a moment. Crude graffiti had been stenciled into her arm with spray-paint or Crewman’s paint—the stuff they used to put markings on the titanium plates of hull on the outside of ships, that required military-grade explosives to chip. She smirked for a moment, before taking the helmet into her arms, looking at the damage done by the hostile… alien… thing.

A good two-thirds of Sunset’s face was burned up, thankfully most of her hair—somehow—remained unburnt, shaved into a crew-cut. The lower right half of her face, jaw and neck were deformed with scarred flesh that signaled the close of the healing process from a seriously bad burn wound. It centered around the cheek, somehow not leaving her looking like a DC villain.

The burns were deep, but left her with a closed mouth look, rather than a charred corpse. At the curve of her cheekbone, the burn began to almost… branch out, in long, narrow lines that split off individually in a sort of outward-splatter. The scarring went down and followed her jawline, covering the underside in more of the serious burns, reaching down to her neck, going down further beyond her eyesight. A frown encompassed her features, and she unbuttoned the first few buttons of her top, and found a disturbing sight awaiting.

The gorget that once was placed upon her chest as an ornamental item had burned through her shirt and stamped its texture into her skin, most prominent was the image of two bulls clashing horns.

“Someone left me in the microwave for too long…” She muttered, watching with distaste as she noted that half of her lip had become thick, scarred tissue.

“More like they tossed you face-first into a frying pan for a few hours… I’m surprised you don’t look like Two-Face.” ‘Licks chimed in. Sunset snickered and threw his bucket to him. Another cultural artifact that Ferleks and her had shared as an experience.

“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. Just glad I don’t have to eat out of a straw…” Sunset grunted. She took a moment to look around the room before speaking again. Tarp made up most of the structure—whether that be the floors, slanted roof, or the walls. Hazy-white contamination/clean-room tarp covered and made up the temporary medical tent—she assumed it was that, by the many other hospital beds with occupants—with a few tables and cabinets against the walls. Off to the right, was a hallway with a flap-door that likely would lead out of the tent.

“Where’s everybody else… did they make it?” Sunset hesitantly asked. The question had lurked at the back of her mind, unwanted. ‘Licks gave her a look of reassurance.

“Yeah… The platoon’s been split in half, but thankfully they all made it. Private Skerrhes lost a good chunk of his face, but he’ll make it. With all the Mods he’d signed up for, you’d think he wanted this. Wouldn’t surprise me.” ‘Licks chuckled and leaned back, wiping his face with a claw.

“Corporal Aski decided that he’s finished after losing a good part of his leg, he’s being replaced by one ‘Lancer Corporal Morton Stein.’ A kraut from the reserves, bilingual. He’ll make a good addition and replacement for Aski… Old bastard was losing his touch, anyway...” ‘Licks finished up. Sunset nodded in reply, and slowly shifted her body, grunting. She pulled her legs over the side and took a minute to rest, noting that the entirety of her left leg had been replaced, with a similar appearance to her prosthetic arm, without the graffiti, just the serial numbers.

“Sarge—” ‘Licks began, quickly getting to his feet. Sunset held her synthetic hand up.

“I’ll be fine, ‘Licks… They got me on meds?” Sunset asked, using a nearby IV stand as a support. ‘Licks grumbled and stood up, walking over to follow Sunset.

“Some basic steroid-type drugs to get your strength back up. That’s all I was told.” ‘Licks followed, offering his rifle as a better support, to which she declined.

As she opened the flap to her tent, the climate of Eiter-VI made itself apparent. The air burned her lungs, and her feet were just about melting from the heat of the sand.

“Agh! Fuck’s sake—!” She bounced back into the tent with a vigour she didn’t have since she was young. Ferleks snickered and followed her back inside.

“You suck.” Sunset grumbled at Ferleks. He offered her a claw up, to which she accepted.

“I’m not going anywhere, so might as well go over a sitrep. Enlighten me.” Sunset said as she lowered herself onto her hospital bed, sitting upright.

“To put it simply? We’re stranded. No word from HIGHCOM, and our signals have been spotty since the attack. We’ve been flooding every emergency channel with an S-O-S, warning of a new threat. Not even automated responses. Just… silence. It’s making the rest of the army troops uneasy, not that I blame them. Jarheads seemed unphased, unsurprisingly.” Ferleks reported. “Speaking of, did you catch a sight at the bastards who took down the Thames?” He then asked. Sunset took a moment to think before she replied.

“Yeah… Tall motherfuckers. Leathery skin, black mostly. Their leader had gray skin, taller than the rest, wore armour made of bone around his head and chest. Called himself ‘Orruth, the Conqueror of Worlds and Destroyer of Civilizations.’ What an egotistical prick…” She answered, muttering her last words.

Ferleks merely nodded in reply, then gave Sunset his best wishes and left the tent to allow her rest.

The next few weeks were spent by Sunset gathering intelligence and getting back her strength. Getting used to the new prostheses, relearning how to use her body. By the time she was ready to get back to the fight, barely a week had passed. She stepped out of the medical tent in the Battle Dress Uniform of the VCA—a black bodysuit, with similar properties of a wetsuit, combined with bits of metal and small hooks and holes for the ‘Kavacha’ Mk. VI Combat Armour that she wore.

The survivors of the crash had assembled a small camp of tents and shacks made of scrap in long lines, with wood and steel plates lining the ground as a form of hardened surface to step on, with a plethora of trenches lining the outskirts, the shacks and tents nearby lined with sandbags and metal plates scavenged from the Thames crash site. The Thames had crashed a kilometer to the East, and due to some seismic activity and the sheer speed of the Thames, the ground around it had caved, leaving the ship semi-buried in sand a dozen kilometers below surface, overlooked by a massive rocky cliff, which appeared to be a mere sand dune from the perspective of the makeshift town of tents and shacks made by the survivors.

To the North, was a mass grave where they had buried whatever dead they could recover, marked by a metal-and-stone fence, with headstones made of rifles and helmets. Whenever personal effects were recovered, they were pinned to the helmet, or tucked inside the helmet. Looking South, there was a massive concrete wall with barbed-wire fencing atop, surrounded by the ruins of small refugee camps and towns, with concrete foundations, separated from their camp by a massive river and a crumbling bridge. There was only desert and scattered natural formations of rock to the West. As Sunset was finishing up with her summary of the landscape, the sounds of laughter and music filled her ears.

A gaggle of engineers, dressed in Kavacha Plate-Armour, with lightly-coloured wraps of bedsheets forming cloaks around their shoulders and bodies were passing around a bottle of rum and singing a cadence, fooling about, roughing each other up and cackling like hyenas. Sunset slowly walked over, admiring the sight of the shacks and tents.

“There are no airborne rangers in the navy!” One of them sang out. “In the navy!” The rest of them roared in response. The engineers passed the rum along, taking a swig before giving it to the person to their right.

“They just sail around in boats, doing god knows what with goats!” The engies noticed her one by one, their singing and laughter dying down slowly, until the only soldier—coincidentally also the one with the rum bottle—singing was the one in front of Sunset, looking away from her. He took a swig from the rum and went to pass it to the next person over, only to find them staring at him, hiding a smirk.

“Oy, the fock are yew lookin’ at, Stanley?” He jokingly yelled to his colleague.

“I think they’re looking at me, corporal MacDheorsa.” Sunset said to the engineer, placing her hands on his shoulders, whispering in his ear.

“Oh… hello, Goony… Could ah interest yew in some rum?” He offered Sunset the bottle, to which she accepted, staring at the bottle for a few moments before taking a long swig and tossing it to the engineer to MacDheorsa’s right. The others in the Corporal’s group began laughing and singing once more. Sunset only went back to walking toward the large half-cylinder hut made of corrugated sheet metal, wood and brick, with a large scrap metal sign hanging from the window, with three spray-painted bullets over a teal fantasy-style breastplate, marking it as the Armoury.

She pushed open the door to be blasted with the smell of weapons and damaged electronics. A few civilians dressed in torn rags of what were once crewman uniforms were sitting along tables lined with broken equipment. Damaged small arms, pieces of armour that were half-melted or shredded, pieces of tech reduced to scraps, and all in between. A few marines were stocking shelves with ammunition boxes, arming weapon racks and sorting through crates of armour, with piles of junked gear strewn about. At the end of the room, was a fenced off area where a synthetic humanoid was examining a large revolver with a melted receiver. Sunset walked over to the synthetic and greeted him with a whistle and a nod.

“Hello, Hephaestus. You got my gear behind that desk of yours?” She leaned an arm against the desk and shot him a smirk. Hephaestus was one of the Thames’ Quartermasters, with a sleek gray and black chassis made of flexible materials, with glowing eyes and mouth, coloured fuchsia. One eye sported a cracked design, causing it to flicker, with half of his jaw missing. To compensate, scrap plates were welded to the left side of his face to hold the damaged casing together. A light coloured tunic and wraps covered his shoulders, torso and legs.

“Good afternoon, Gunny—and don’t worry, your precious rifle is back here. Had to make some repairs, though; changed some of the metal bits to carbon fibre, adjusted or replaced the internals, recalibrated to take 7.62’s. Your armour’s in working condition, too. Left pauldron was reinforced with some street signs and junk metal from the town over, too much damage for the nanobots. Ferleks put some decoratives on it, too.” Hephaestus explained as he knelt to rummage through some shelves, before standing up. He placed a rifle and three double-stack sixty-round magazines on the table, along with two charred cardboard ammo boxes.

The rifle had a bullpup design, magazine-fed with three different fire settings, semi-automatic, burst, and automatic, and basic foam padding and duct-tape wrap lining the stock. A picatinny-rail mounted scope was clicked into place above the receiver, with a holographic red-dot and a few scratches along the glass. Duct-tape, cloth and basic bindings were wrapped around the stock, with a similar design to the Tavor Tar-21, with varying differences, such as picatinny-rail mounts, material differences, and internal differences. Sunset was quick to pick up the weapon and stroke the horizontal group mounted on the bottom picatinny. Next was a Modular Tactical-Utility-Combat-Knife, or M-TUCK, with a non-reflective titanium-carbide 24-centimeter blade and comfortable rubber-mesh grip in a black sheathe that’d clip onto PALS-Webbing or strap to the thigh. Finally, a Colter M2256 Combat Pistol, sharing an outer appearance with the MEU(SOC) pistol, albeit bulkier and with a picatinny rail mount on the top and bottom of the slide and barrel, chambered in 12.7x40mm HE/AP rounds.

“Your armour’s in the frame over there in the closest frame to the door.” With this knowledge, Sunset strode over to the frame after giving Hephaestus her thanks. It was circular, with different pieces of armour held by miniature claws that connected to a rotating spherical object comprised of metal and circuitry. Sunset stepped onto a pair of metal footprints, the process of arming up beginning for her.

A set of gauntlets were attached to her forearms, sporting a rounded design, with blocky pads protecting the elbow joints. On her left arm, a rerebracer was attached, reinforced with scrap metal, originally made of smooth, white titanium, now using corrugated steel to reinforce the damaged plating beneath, whilst the right rerebracer was spared the damage and reinforcement. The plating wrapped around her upper-arm, leaving her shoulder exposed. Next, a set of bulbous, rounded pauldrons were mounted on the rerebracers. The left pauldron was reinforced with road signs and license plates, whilst the right pauldron remained undamaged, save some scratches and minor markings.

Her chest-plating was a few inches thick along the centre, thinning along the bottom and edges, with a thick titanium collar along the chest, starting along the collar-bone, ending at the base of the neck, her serial numbers etched along the band of the collar. The rear-plate was rounded and thick, interlocking with the front-torso plate under the arms and over the shoulders. Thin, light plates were mounted along her abdomen, with neat columns of webbing built into the plates, with a tactical holster along the hips and lower back, with a ceramic-plated kitbag mounted on the rear of her waist, the bag containing PALS webbing, much like the abdominal plates, with several smaller pouches locked into place on the sides and front of the kitbag. A few smaller pouches were hooked along the thinly-plated tactical holster, along with an empty hardcase on the left thigh, attached with straps and magnetic plates on the thigh-armour.

Sunset’s legs were encased in the same white plate-armour of the rest of her body, with the thigh-guards protecting the back, outer and lower inner thighs. A pair of metal plates attached to her boots, leaving only small bits exposed to the elements. Titanium greaves took to protecting what the plated boots did not, protecting the majority of the calves and shin, with small, diamond-shaped plates cropping up over the top to protect the joints. Magnetic-plates were infused with the outer thighs, and more PALS-Webbing was lining the sides of the greaves.

To top it off, her helmet was sleek, with a dual-fin brim above the visor, a cyan-coloured composite of different materials, shaped similarly to an upside-down trapezoid. A set of fins formed across the jaw of the helmet. The fins and brim were gun-metal gray, and with the exception of the visor and a stripe down the middle of the dome, the entire helmet was a bluish white colour like the rest of the armour. As the helmet slowly slid over her head, with a steady hiss as it pressurized, her vision went black. Immediately, the air filtration came online, as well as internal lighting, allowing her to see the dull gray hexagonal-pattern blank screen that spanned the helmet, illuminated by a dull, bluish LED.

Sunset took a moment to get used to being in the suit of Kavacha-VI Powered Combat Armour, with her HUD flickering to life.

Systems booting up…

Life Support… Online.

XK12 NF Engine… Online.

Fine Motor Function… Active.

Navigations… Online.

A radar bubble appeared in the lower left sector of the screen, and a compass spanned the top of the HUD. The radar was flush with red dots, indicating hostiles surrounding her, and the screens flickered for a moment, before her sight was returned to her, the dull interior of the poorly-lit armoury becoming visible yet again, however silent.

Identify Friend-or-Foe… Online.

A sweeping effect went over the radar—which doubled as a miniature map—and the red dots became yellow, indicating friendlies.

Testing Internal Speakers… Online.

Testing External Speakers… Online.

The din of the armoury immediately returned to her, metallic clanking and idle chatter between the personnel.

Artificial Intelligence Port… Locked.

Communications… Long Range… Offline. Short Range… Online.

Weapons Systems… Online.

The upper right corner flickered as the symbol of her AERSW-BCR48 Bullpup Battle Rifle, followed by marking the amount of ammunition left in the magazine beneath the symbol. Empty, with an ejected magazine.

Chameleon-Class Camouflage Generator… Online.

Sunset’s armour went from bluish-white to a rust-orange digital camouflage, with the visible bits of armour under the scrap reinforced left shoulder flickering to a rust orange. Sunset made a mental footnote to apply some paints to the armour, so it matched the camo pattern.

X-7 Poseidon-Class Energy-Repulsion Shields… Offline. Shield Generator has been obstructed, damaged or removed. Recommend immediate replacement.

XR-Class SRD-Booster… Online. Fifteen of ninety doses remain, restock recommended.

EMP-Shielding… Active.

All Essential Systems Nominal. Boot-Up Sequence Complete. Thank you for choosing the KAVACHA-VI Shevade-Tek Support-Defense-Armour Platform. Have a SAFE AND PRODUCTIVE day.

With that, the HUD boot-up was complete, and Sunset was quick to stretch out, and stride over to a set of crates and lockers in the corner of the room, gathering equipment into a box before taking her spot at a bench to get prepped further.

Sunset strapped a CLS-Kit to her right thigh, and removed the kitbag from her waist, dropping it to her feet. She’d fill it with gear once she’d finished with her current task. She slung a pistol harness around her shoulders, clipping a black leather holster to it, as well as a half-dozen clip pouches, followed by her sliding her M2256 into place, locking it in with a buckle. She pulled a black fabric sling from the box, sliding a few 8-gauge shotgun shells into the webs along the ends, and clipped it to her BCR48’s stock and body, pulling a small weapon from the box—an M66 Support-and-Breach Close-Quarters Weapon, a miniature shotgun designed for—as the name implies—close quarters combat, support, and door breaching. She placed it in a divided section inside the kitbag, separate from her other gear. Sunset loaded a few magazines with 7.62x51mm AP/HE’s and HP’s, with a revolver loaded with high-power tracer rounds holstered on her thigh. She filled the kitbag with her other miscellaneous items, weapons repair/cleaning kits, zip-ties, a few MREs and an armour cleaning kit, which really served only to fill up her bag. The kit would help her clean her suit’s air filters when they couldn’t clean themselves.

She loaded a few double-stack thirty-round mags into the ammunition pouches on her abdomen, six in total, then loaded her BCR48 with a quad-stack mag, her M2256 with a standard eight-round magazine, and put on the decorative items that were given to her by Ferleks—A sleeveless army-drab half-caped duster and a chameleon-camouflage hooded poncho/cloak that she stored in a sling bag, along with a few non-lethal gas, flashbang and shock grenades. She attached a few pouches to the bag, slung it across her back, fixed her kitbag to the back of her waist, and left the Armoury, stepping down onto a pallet used as a walkway. Ferleks was waiting by the stairs, wearing his rust-orange camouflaged Kavacha-EVI Armour, with a torn khaki scarf wrapped around his neck and covering his upper-most shoulders, his lower pair of arms clutching a rifle, the PAISW-KR33 Assault Rifle, an automatic, magazine-fed rifle with a sleek, armoured exterior hiding the internals from the elements, with a twin-drum two-hundred-thirty round magazine clicked into the receiver, with a padded built-in grip behind and in front of the magazine-feeder, with a carry handle along the top of the rifle’s bulbous, hexagonal plating, and a mounted holo-scope on the picatinny rail below the handle. There were two other picatinny mounts on the left and right side of the rifle, with a grenade-launcher mounted on the right side, a flashlight on the left.

“You ready? I’ve got an op for us, to chip off any rust left.” Ferleks greeted, to which Sunset nodded, and followed Ferleks to a large, hastily constructed dome-topped concrete building with parapets lining the roof, guards adorned in hulking suits of bulky armour, with arm-mounted chainguns and carrying railguns. Ferleks walked up a set of wood stairs up to a small terrace reinforced with barbed wire, sandbags and fences reinforced with corrugated metal, where another guard stood, dressed in the same hulking suit—a Battle Casket, as they were nicknamed, with his hulking rail-firing boomstick lowered.

The suit had a bulky design, based off early Kavacha Prototypes, with dome-like shoulder pauldrons and bulky forearms, yet nimble gloves that were controlled via a Neural Interface that all Vanguard Coalition Personnel had. The helmet was dome-like, with an oblong-pinch visor, a dual-fin brim, and a sort of ‘muzzle’ outcropping over the mouth, a heat-sync style mouth guard with dual filters on the sides of the muzzle. Their boots looked heavy enough to crush the front of a heavy-duty APC with a swift kick, with a bulbous, simplistic aesthetic to them, except for fins along the sides of the boots. An added height to make any human operator tower over most Sangheili or Eliksni made them a terrifying threat, the added energy shielding making them nigh invincible.

Sunset and Ferleks gave the guard a nod before walking through a pair of double doors into the main interior of the building, illuminated by yellow industrial lighting. The main atrium was about two stories in height, with catwalks at the second story leading to small chambers lining the walls, stocked with computer equipment. The massive dome that was atop the building was entered through a maintenance lift off to the back of the room. Naval Intelligence personnel moved about the room, some working at holo-tables off by the walls, whilst others chatted with Army Rangers or Advanced Scouts adorned in suits of Kavacha-VII Prototype armour, their suits a slate-gray, with a bulbous, advanced aesthetic. Sleek, hexagonal plating that rarely parted, forming patterns similar to muscle, almost as slim as the operators, yet durable enough to take anti-tank rounds and have only scratches left behind. The helmets were simple, shaped around the head enough to allow the operator to wear headgear over it, such as hats or masks. Many of the operators wore hats akin to that of bandits of the Wild West, sometimes cloaks, keffiyehs or scarves, others wore jackets and dusters. Marines dotted the room, adorned in the same Kavacha-VI/EVI Armour as Sunset and Ferleks. The lighting was dim, with the center and catwalks illuminated with yellow lights, the bottom floor lit by light blue terminal or holotable screens, despite that Ferleks skillfully navigated and led Sunset to the maintenance lift at the end of the room, hitting the third-floor button.

“So, this is Ground Command?” Sunset asked, breaking the silence between the two as the slow, rickety lift brought them up to the Dome. Ferleks replied with a crisp nod.

“The spooks have set up downstairs, and have the Advanced Scouts and Rangers doing recon. They’ve got the Dome being used as a briefing room for the bigger ops, however I got us and the team a reservation of sorts, so we get to prep up there.” Ferleks explained, to which Sunset nodded.

“Who’s going with us?” Sunset asked, tapping her foot and checking her rifle. Ferleks did the same, glancing up at the groaning cables that barely held the old service lift.

“Just our squad. Skerrhes, Stein, Corporal Louis, Lloyd, Kettelie and Fedir.” Ferleks replied. Sunset was pleased with getting to see some familiar faces yet again.

The service lift clanked to a stop and shook as it reached the Dome, where a massive holographic display was playing out on the hexagonal pattern of the interior paneling of the walls and ceiling, photographs and short video clips of a massive cramped space of clay-brick, concrete and scrap-reinforced housing, with bombed out residential one-story clay-brick houses making up the outer ring of the city, with the second-most ring made of massive apartment complexes, basic Khrushchyovka architecture, with few buildings not toppled, burned or damaged in some way, with even fewer being reinforced or barricaded. The inner-most ring was made up of two-to-three story shops, with blue rain tarps, dark red fabric and wood or corrugated steel paneling used to create a massive canopy over lines of buildings with a once-bustling marketplace underneath, now barren, with many shops looted or destroyed. Corpses were spotted on the tops of buildings or in piles in the middle of empty streets, however the image appeared quite grainy, so distinct features were hard to make out. An aerial view revealed it to be quite close, beyond the concrete wall across the river, a few hundred kilometers down a dirt road.

“Welcome back, Sunny!” Lloyd greeted. Esme Lloyd was one of Sunset’s close friends from her early days as a teenager training to be a super-soldier. She was a woman of short stature, wearing a black desperado-style cowboy hat and a large scarf wrapped around her shoulders and neck, covering her mouth, with a pair of road goggles over her eyes. Her armour was the Kavacha-VI, with a short-barreled, pistol-grip shotgun akin to a Remington M870, a mounted holo-sight and sling lined with eight-gauge shells over her shoulder. A pair of serrated machetes were strapped to her waist, with a M-Tuck strapped to her left thigh-plate and a pair of holstered M2256 machine-pistols on the rear of her waist, modded with extended magazines and holosights. A large backpack with a red cross painted across the webbing was across her back, lined with pouches and gear, such as a canteen, a frying pan, among other utensils. Her armour was basic, with a smooth design akin to Sunset’s, with the bulky pauldrons replaced with slim plating to allow for sleeved overcoats. Her chestplate was broad, much like a Mark V MJOLNIR chest plate.[1]

Sunset gave her a quick greeting, before moving over to a small terminal in the middle of the room that would begin the briefing, pressing a few buttons. She moved to the side and gave Ferleks the floor, so to speak.

“A pair of Rangers discovered a small city to the South, and GROUNDCOM needs it checked out. Very few signs of life, and we may be looking at a sizable group of hostiles. Most likely a group of raiders or especially sadistic bandits, however there’s rumour of it being the same hostiles who grounded the Thames, although nothing’s confirmed.” Ferleks began. He highlighted the North-facing entrance, specifically two concrete guard towers in the middle of sandbag fortifications, some trenches and a few tents.

“Skerrhes, you and Lundy will garrison at this location and cover our entrance or emergency exit. We’ll be riding in on an HTT Bulldog-88 APC, with artillery support from a trailer-gun and the only Mark-V Tank we’ve got. We’ll set up artillery by a ridge, some fifty kilometers to the Northwest. The Mark-V will be hidden under Active-Camo by the breach in the Northeastern wall, where we intend to make an exit toward, lest shit hit the fan. The city’s divided into four blocks, with checkpoints separating the outer ring of clay housing from the middle-class apartment structures. We’re to enter from the Northern entrance and secure the Northern block. After that point, we split up into two teams of three. Sunset, myself and Lloyd will cover the Western block and move toward the centre, led by me, identify Bravo team. Alpha team, led by First-Sergeant Sayenko, comprised of Stein, Sayenko and Louis, will cover the Eastern residential block. Assuming that the city is occupied by hostiles, Alpha team will clear out their block to allow the Mark V to move into the Northern block and push into the central market, where Alpha will come in from the North-East, and Bravo will come in from the North-West and we clear out the hostiles from the market, and either occupy it until further support can be called upon, or we make it an indefensible position, the latter which is a last-ditch only—we’re trying to keep damage to civilian property, owned or dormant, low. Questions?” Ferleks briefed. Louis raised his hand, to which Ferleks looked to him.

“What weapons can we use?” Louis asked. Ferleks opened up a tab on the terminal’s screen.

“Small arms and moderate explosives. Thermite shotgun and grenade shells are authorized, so grenade launchers and high-power rifles max.” Ferleks answered. Lloyd raised her hand, same deal.

“Under what circumstances are we to retreat?” She asked. Ferleks examined the terminal screen before responding.

“Delta-Epsilon-Seven-Seven Protocol is in effect, so if we suffer any casualties, set the armour reactors to blow, and fall back, use that to your advantage if you must. We retreat if we’re outnumbered or out-skilled and it is, without reasonable doubt, a situation where the ends do not justify the means, and the situation is completely FUBAR.” Ferleks replied. Somber feelings were felt among the eight-man squad.

“If that’s all, make some final minute preparations before we head out. Dismissed.” Ferleks ordered, and the army troopers cleared out, except for Lloyd, Ferleks, Fedir Sayenko and Sunset, who stayed behind to wait for the second lift.

“Y’know, when I joined the army, I didn’t expect intricate squad-work like this. I was expecting company or regiment-wide ops.” Lloyd commented. Sunset chuckled in response.

“That’s the case, more often than not… However, these are extraordinary circumstances. Expect anything and be careful. We have lost too much to this so-far unseen threat, I’m not willing to lose anything else.” Sunset replied. Ferleks gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder with a closed fist.

“Wise words. Let’s hope that this is just a simple, quiet op… I’m not ready to go knee-deep. Ankle-deep, maybe.” Fedir quipped. Lloyd scoffed in reply.

“When have we ever had an op go right? The ops always flop—like that one time in Ceril-VI when we had to go toe-to-toe with those ZK bitches, and we were just expecting those apes, only to get surprise rape from the massive artillery nest in the city.” Lloyd commented. They all reminisced on the memory before they were snapped out of thought by the lift coming to a halt in front of them. The newly-formed Bravo Team piled in and silently stood as the lift lowered to the first floor. The trio made their way out a back exit, where a large truck was waiting.

The Heavy Troop-Transport Bulldog-88—nicknamed Bulldog for the appearance of the grille and headlights—APC had sixteen wheels, twelve in the back, with four in the front, massive tires with durable mesh to make them near bullet-proof. The cabin could hold four passengers, with two front seats with a wide windshield protected by vent-style armour and using holographic screens to maintain visuals. A backseat was behind the front seats, made up of two opposite-facing benches that were accessed by a second pair of doors, with an octagonally-shaped bed made of bolted titanium, with four windows, two on either wall, with seats built into the walls, and rubber floors, and many a buckle and strap on the middle walls and floors to lock down any equipment. The seats could be removed and stored in a locker behind the cabin, with the cabin and the bed making up two separate entities mounted on the sixteen-wheel frame, the cabin shaped more-or-less like a square, divided from the bed by two titanium-composite walls. The rear doors were thick with circular glass windows.

Other variants included using cloth-covers for the walls instead of solid titanium, allowing for decreased weight and cooler temperatures at the cost of less armour, or molding the walls to have bulges in the walls where Box-HMGs could be positioned, costing decreased maneuverability.

Sunset climbed into the bed with Alpha and Bravo teams, and the APC rumbled to life before setting off to the South. Sunset watched as they crossed a dirt road out of their makeshift camp, passing over the bridge and diverting its course to the East to reach the gate a few kilometers downrange. Soon enough, late-twentieth century and early-twenty-first century rock and pop music blasted through the speakers, and the chatter in the bed quieted down. Sunset chose to keep out of it and watch the barren dirt road. She saw the occasional rabbit scurrying to shelter, their fur coats lighter than the sand by a few shades due to weather changes. The cold seasons were nearing, and they were long and harsh, contrast with the short, melting-hot summers. The occasional dying shrub or bush was positioned along the road, and rarer were small closet-sized shacks that were abandoned, reduced to rubble or bombed out.

The APC slowed as it made a turn into a long concrete tunnel, and past the Southern Border Wall. The tunnel was barely lit with dim industrial lights, half of which were broken or dead, leaving them in near complete darkness, were it not for the built-in light on the ceiling of the APC. The drive took up the better part of a few hours, quiet except for static-laced music and the occasional joke.

After a while, the truck slowed to a halt, and the SHORTCOM crackled to life.

“Sergeant Ferleks, there’s a massive blockade of rubble and scrap… someone caved in the tunnel. How copy?” The staticky accented voice of Lundy came through the built-in comms of every soldier in the APC.

“We’re a few hours ahead of schedule… How much debris is there?” Ferleks asked. It took a few minutes for Lundy to reply.

“A good few pounds of thermite and a brick of C6 should clear us a pathway… Think the scouts blew the path?” Lundy theorized. Ferleks was quick to deny this.

“No. They’re Army boys, they wouldn’t do that… Besides, there’s no logical reasoning to do so.” Ferleks explained.

“I dunno, sarge… humans don’t think rationally and logically when we’re hysterical. I don’t think any species does, in fact.” Lundy countered. Ferleks had no response, only pondering the situation as Kieran Louis prepared an explosive pack of Thermite, as well as a brick of C6 breaching explosive, unique for its “softening” effect on concrete and most stone materials.

Louis popped open the rear door of the APC with an M2256 drawn, using the flashlight mount on the pistol to guide his way as he waded through what appeared to be ankle-height water, planting a metal-lined brick of green plastic explosive in a little nook of concrete, doing the same with the sticks of thermite, attaching them with wires and walking over to use the APC as cover. He lit the wire fuse, causing the thermite to light up, whilst the green brick of explosive began to glow.

Fssssshhh…

A bright green flash lit up the entire tunnel for a half-second. Once it had faded, where there was once a wall of concrete, was now a mound of dust that was quickly becoming smaller and smaller, mixing with the water. Louis snipped the wire off, stored it in his bag, and climbed back into the vehicle.

The APC continued on its way down the tunnel, with the apparent sound of sloshing water for a good forty minutes, stopping abruptly as they left the tunnel, and began back down a dirt road.

“We’re on approach, ETA five minutes. Everyone be ready—I’m counting a dozen civilians surrounding a pair of jeeps blocking the road, accompanied by concrete blocks. Armed, using MA1 ICWS’s. Got a couple wearing scrap as armour… Should we stop?” Lundy asked. She was met with an affirmative beep from the comms. The APC slowed to a stop, and one of the unarmoured civilian walked over. He was dressed in a leather jacket, bluish track pants, sneakers and a gray backpack with a marijuana leaf outline on the back. He and Lundy exchanged a few words, before he walked back to his companions.

“They’re bandits. Get ready for shit to get loud in about thirty seconds, maybe not even that.” Lundy filled in the rest of them, spinning the chamber of her revolver, a .44 with a holosight and high penetration power.

Sunset and Ferleks, being the closest to the doors, got their rifles ready, aimed at the door, whilst Louis and Lloyd knelt down at the back of the cab, weapons centered on the door.

Three of the bandits came back, one wearing a scrap breastplate under a ripped up black leather trench-coat, clutching a TOZ-34, one carrying an MA1, the other carrying a modernized AKM, with synthetic parts and a holosight.

Two went around the back of the truck, whilst the third, the one wielding the shotgun, took his place at the driver-side door.

“vykhodi iz gruzovika, suka!” The bandit yelled at Lundy. His endeavors were met with resistance in the form of being hit in the face by a door, followed by taking a .44 round to the abdomen. At the same time, the two bandits behind the truck were lit up by 7.62’s and 12.7mm rounds, falling back with the life leaving them. The remaining nine bandits yelling out and taking cover, firing wildly at the truck. Lundy and Skerrhes quickly ejected themselves from the front seat to take cover, using a nearby boulder. Skerrhes, armed with two miniature SMGs, compact MP7-like weapons with high stopping-power 12.7mm rounds loaded in, holosight mounts and twenty-round double-stack extended mags.

Skerrhes rolled to the left and fired two-round bursts wildly at the bandits crouched behind a concrete block, before rolling back behind cover. Lundy took aim with her magnum revolver, waiting for the perfect moment to fire.

CRACK!

Her revolver’s .44 round made itself a new home in the cranium of a dim-witted bandit who fully revealed himself to spray at the APC. Sunset and Ferleks hopped out of the truck and rushed forward, rolling into cover behind the concrete blocks as Skerrhes and Lundy provided the necessary suppressive fire to get them to that position.

Sunset waited for the bandit in front of her to pop up, unsheathing her M-Tuck and driving it into his chest, causing him to drop his rifle, an MA1K Carbine, and drop to the floor in a heap. His nearby friend cried out and jumped up to empty his magazine into Sunset, only to take a burst of 7.62x51mm rounds to the chest and fall back against a jeep before a single round left his rifle. Ferleks quickly ducked back behind cover to keep from getting blown away as a heavily-armoured bandit wielding a PKM began to blast the concrete blockade, slowly chipping away at it, roaring. It took only a second for him to get knocked onto his back by a .44 hitting his makeshift steel mask and deliver a hard-enough hit to knock him out. Sunset used hand motions to tell Ferleks to circle around the left side, so the duo could catch them on both sides to gun them down. The bandits would be unprepared if they were quick and aimed inward to prevent a crossfire.

Ferleks nodded, and with a count of three, the two ran around either side and let loose their entire magazines into the remaining bandits taking cover behind the jeeps, shredding up the weak armour they wore and causing them to crumple. Sunset keyed her comms and reported their success.

“All hostiles taken care of. Skerrhes, Lundy, you guys take any hits?” Sunset called out. Skerrhes replied with a green affirmative light.

“Lundy here. Took a round to the shoulder, pauldron stopped it though. Going to leave a nasty dent and Hephaestus is going to be pissed as hell, but other than that I’m good.” Lundy reported. Sunset flashed an affirmative light, using her HUD to check her ammo count. Twelve rounds. I’ll refill the magazine when I get into the APC. She mentally noted, slinging her rifle. Sunset slowly strode back to the APC, with Lundy, Skerrhes and Ferleks following behind.

“What about the guy with the PKM?” Lundy asked. Ferleks gave her a shrug.

“Let’s just leave him. He’s probably concussed or dying from internal bleeding from that hit—nice shot, by the way.” Ferleks complimented. Lundy flashed a green affirmative light in acknowledgement and climbed into the cab. Sunset and Ferleks got into the bed and strapped in as the APC got back onto the path set for them.

Much time passed, banter was exchanged, and last-minute preparations were made. The small army group arrived at the city of New Leningrad at 2100 hours, right on schedule. Other than the small skirmish with the bandits, they had seen no other civilians, some abandoned vehicles but not much else. Evidence was pointing toward this place being abandoned, beginning with the cracked roads and heavy amount of overgrowth along the outer city. The Northern Block Entrance was a massive wall of concrete blockades lined with rusty barbed wire and overgrown with dying flora, a massive half-opened gate flanked by a pair of concrete watchtowers, with tents and sandbag fortifications covering a 1KMx0.5KM rectangle of space, making up a makeshift military encampment that had been picked clean some time ago.

Lundy hid the APC in a tent behind some crates and under a tarp and got her sniper rifle, an OA-Long-Ranged Marksman Rifle Model 716—also called the LRMR, M716 or LRMR-716—and set up in one of the watchtowers. Sleek body, with an extremely long barrel and chambered in 20mm AP/HE rounds, designed for the ZK/VC War, as ZK grunts wore armour that was so thick that traditional small arms couldn’t penetrate, and with not a single bit of the target unarmoured, it required hundreds of HMG rounds to make dents. With that challenge in mind, the Orion Armouries company created the OALRMR, often nicknamed the Judas, as it was joked that not even holy deities could stop the high-explosive, armour-piercing 20mm shells fired from the rifles. The first models required Battle Caskets to operate, however Lundy was using an advanced prototype using forerunner tech. It was this tech that got them the upper hand in the Zeri’Kahni-Vanguard War.

Lundy slid a single-stack five-round magazine into the bullpup receiver and bolted the rifle. Skerrhes was set up in the other watchtower, acting as a spotter. Lundy took the opportunity to take a good look at her surroundings and reported to Ferleks once finished.

“I can keep a watchful eye on you from up to the central ring. Too many obstructions by then. I can use thermal to watch you in the second ring apartments, and the outer ring has only one-story buildings. How copy?” Lundy reported to Ferleks. He pondered the information before responding.

“Make use of Skerrhes as a spotter. By the time we get ready to hit the center, artillery and the Mark-V should be here.” Ferleks replied, doing a final equipment check before giving the greenlight to move in. Bravo team would cover the western half of the northern block, alpha would cover the east.

Sunset, Ferleks and Lloyd moved up through the streets, moving from the building corners to the alleys, utilizing cover rather than confidently striding through the streets like Alpha team. Ruined cars littered the road, and looted small shops were on every corner, papers littered the ground, and the occasional wall made of wooden junk, scrap plates, tires and debris blocked off a pathway. The rare barrel full of scorched wood was the only sign of civilization that they came across for a while.

“Alpha-One, this is Bravo-Three. You guys encounter anything yet?” Stein called out over the comms. Sunset took it upon herself to reply.

“Negative, Bravo-Three. I’m assuming you haven’t either?” Sunset responded to the call. A green acknowledgement light flashed from Stein. Sunset felt uneasy. The silence was making her anxious, however she braved the unknown and continued onward.

Buildings became less bombed out and more or less just abandoned the farther in, with more broken-down vehicles crowding the streets. Bodies, half decomposed, began to fill the sidewalks and line the walls, some lying on the ground or against a wall with evidence of them being lined up and executed. Sunset’s unease was far from being put to rest, as armoured bodies soon began to pop up. Checkpoints began to dot every corner, with bodybags piled up behind walls of wood paneling and sandbags.

“Shit… this isn’t the bandit MO. The bandits can be sadistic, but they wouldn’t go this far…” Fedir muttered over comms.

“You guys got bodies, too?” Sunset asked. A green light was her response.

“Civilians… fuckin’ hell, they were executing people, men, women, children… shit. What group does something like this? This is genocide. ZKs don’t even do shit like this… Not like this, at least…” Lloyd pondered. Sunset knelt beside a body dressed in brown robes with strange symbols painted on the back, most prominent was a wide-open eye with a diamond in the centre. Lloyd and Ferleks kept going on, chatting idly amongst themselves about politics.

“I found the body of one of those weird cult bastards… That’s a rarity.” Sunset called out. She received a few green lights in response.

Sunset flipped the body, finding much of the same—half decayed, riddled with bullet holes. She grabbed the wrist and noticed a crumpled, bloodstained note in its hand, clutched tight. Sunset painstakingly removed it from the yellowed, bony hand and opened the note.

SPREAD THE WORD OF THE GREAT ORACLE TO THE INFIDELS OF THE RED IMPOSTER, BROTHER VAXIM.

GRACE BE TO THE ORACLE.

-CONFESSOR RENDWELL

Sunset paid it no mind but kept the note and stashed it in a pouch on her kitbag anyway. Too far above her paygrade.

Before she could call out to Alpha team of their status, the air was abruptly knocked out of her chest, and Sunset was sent rocketing into the floor, a cry of agony releasing from her. She was quick to look up and identify her attacker, freezing in fear as she stared up at it.

The figure had to be twelve-feet tall, wearing brown scorched robes, with a chunk of his shoulder blown away. Its eyes were white and glassy, with its jaw broken and unhinged, in a constant scream as it rammed her into the ground, causing blood to gush from its wound. Sunset’s hand scrambled for the revolver on her thigh, fumbling with the holster, whilst her other hand went for her rifle. The creature planted its thick, leathery hands around Sunset’s neck and squeezed, trying to choke her. Sunset stared into its glassy eyes, tears leaking from her own as she felt consciousness beginning to slip.

CRACK, CRACK, CRACK, CRACK!

The figure stumbled back, as four large holes began to ooze from its abdomen, Sunset’s revolver pointed directly at it.

CRACK, CRACK!

She fired two more rounds, this time into its chest, before unholstering her pistol, firing one round into its head and two more into its chest, where the heart would be if it were human.

“I heard gunfire, what happened?!” Ferleks rounded the corner, rifle at the ready, only to find Sunset standing over the corpse of a figure in drab, holstering her revolver and pistol.

“I got jumped by that sick fucking thing after I examined the corpse of the Oracle Follower.” Sunset answered truthfully. Ferleks slowly lowered his rifle as Sunset staggered over to the hardened clay wall and leaned against it, ripping her helmet off to let the contents of her stomach paint the packed-dirt. Ferleks simply stood by and waited. Sunset wiped her lip, spat, and took a deep breath, the nervous shaking that had encased her body as she vomited ceasing.

“Sorry. First time killing one of these disgusting things.” She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then slid her helmet back on.

“You good, Sunset?” Lloyd asked. Sunset flashed a green acknowledgement light quickly, scooping her rifle up off the floor.

“I’ll be good. Just need some liquor once we get back.” Sunset made a half-joke and strode down the street, clutching her rifle to her chest.

Ferleks and Lloyd followed behind with hesitation plaguing their movements. Sunset’s movement steadied and became more relaxed as they passed through the narrow, blockaded streets, and reached the first major checkpoint. Ferleks checked in with Charlie Team.

“Charlie, this is Bravo Team. We’ve reached our objective. Encountered one hostile—had a close encounter with one of those lanky bitches like the ones that attacked the ship, but we’ll be alright. He won’t, though.” Ferleks reported with a quip. A green light from Charlie.

“This is Alpha, we’ve reached our objective as well. How copy?” Fedir called out over comms. Ferleks flashed a green light.

“Proceed to next block. Bravo going silent.” Ferleks silenced the local Comms. The blockade in front of them was made up of concrete blocks topped with wire-fences, once electrified by a generator, now only rusting and growing weaker. Sandbag blockades flanked the gate, with a toll booth with a dead soldier lying over the window, a black MP helmet with a large hole through the top lying on the ground beneath him. The toll guard had been broken down by a utility, which was riddled with holes and crashed into a Humvee nearby.

Sunset paid the body no mind and strode past. There were two fences, with a half kilometer between the fences, with tents, corpses and gear strewn across the concrete floor, with a hard transition between the districts. Where there were once dirt roads and packed dirt instead of pavement, there was a concrete jungle with occasional patches of dead grass with the rare shrub or tree, equally dead, vehicles lining parking lots behind massive, cramped housing complexes. A massive blockade of debris kept them from advancing into a large park area, however there looked to be the secondary entrance of a large complex, although Sunset couldn’t identify it. The building was somewhat still intact, albeit the floors above had collapsed onto the second floor.

Sunset motioned to the building and led their push toward it. Decaying bodies had been tossed against cars, with a majority being soldiers. Their armour consisted of steel pads over the joints, and loose combat pants, with two leather pauldrons over their shoulders, forming arch-shapes across their shoulders, with fabric masks and helmets, their bodies sunken, their uniforms rotting and rusting.

“Wouldn’t want to be around when these guys were holding out.” Lloyd commented, nudging a body with her foot.

“Whatever killed these guys was fuckin’ strong. It melted right through their bodies but didn’t cauterize.” Lloyd commented, pointing to a few burn marks by a few corpses slumped down around a sandbag fortification against a van.

“Sounds painful.” Sunset replied.

“They probably took hours to die, which is worse… very little blood worries me, though.” Ferleks noted, pushing a body off the marble steps to the building, which led to a small overgrown terrace with a pair of double doors, a crowbar lodged between the handles, a dead soldier in a suit of rusted titanium-ceramic battle armour lying over a shattered glass panel, with dried blood staining all around the door. The floors above were collapsed to the first floor, so it would be luck that they didn’t cause the building to cave in, or that they could even get in.

“Should we risk going in?” Ferleks voiced his thoughts, nodding to the massive amount of damage.

“Yes. We need to get to the top floor to overlook the courtyard, see what’s left.” Sunset replied, jogging up the steps with Lloyd in tow.

“This place gives me bad vibes…” Ferleks grumbled, to which Sunset slugged his shoulder, and shoved the corpse off the door, removing the crowbar and pushing open the doors. The doors led to a small lobby, that turned to two narrow hallways, one caved in with rubble. Thick layers of dust were settled on everything, with bodies huddled together in the dark corners. A wave of dread passed over Sunset as her headlamp flickered once it passed over the corpses.

“Was it just me, or did you guys hear a scream?” Ferleks asked, fear rising in the back of his voice.

“Nutcase, you didn’t hear anything. Did you get enough ether or are you suffering from something?” Lloyd asked as Sunset took the left hallway—the only hallway, leading. Her lights and visuals constantly flickered, and Sunset swore she could hear whispers as she traversed the halls, stepping over the decaying bodies lining the floors.

“There might be a window through this door.” Sunset called to her companions, who were just about up her ass with how close they were. The door was wooden, with a glass window that was too smudged to make out what was inside. She turned the knob and tried to push, only to be met with resistance. Sunset took a deep breath, and shoulder-rammed the door, causing it to pop open.

c-c-crack.

Sunset was horrified at the sight before her. The resistance that kept the door opening was the body of a child—a small one, maybe twelve or thirteen. There were more of them, hidden under desks, or hiding with what Sunset assumed was their teacher in the corner. Sunset’s light flickered and dimmed, the whispering becoming screams in her ears.

“S---et! --nset! -----t!” Sunset could only make out the call to her, and closed her eyes, before she felt a pair of bony hands grasp her shoulders. Sunset spun around and was ready to draw her pistol—

“SUNSET!” Ferleks yelled. Sunset’s hand rested on the grip of her M2256, with his arms gripping her by the shoulders.

“Sunset get a fucking hold of yourself, or I’m putting you in as a section eight when we get back. We clear?” Ferleks demanded. Sunset nodded.

“I feel it too… this place gives me the creeps. I think you just spooked her with those spindly fingers of yours, ‘Leks.” Lloyd defended Sunset, not taking a step into what was assumed to be a rotted middle school class-room. Sunset and Ferleks stepped out and maneuvered through the halls, reaching the large, open corridor that was the central entrance, debris blocking off the hallway to their left, which was parallel with the entrance. The hallway across from them had desks and lunchroom tables blockading it. Beside the hall they entered through, was a shattered moldy wood case containing rusted awards of varying sizes and shapes. Books, bags and papers littered the ground, whilst a leaking pipe dripped from above.

Sunset took a right turn through the main doors and stepped down the large concrete steps. There was a massive statue of a horse, with the front legs, head and upper body lying in a pile around the base, rust encased the once polished silver engravings on the walls of the base, except for a single, blank plate, that was as shiny as the day it was assembled. Sunset found it unusual and knelt to examine it.

“What do you make of that? One side is polished and tidy, whilst the rest look like they haven’t been touched in years… what the hell happened here?” Sunset asked to nobody in particular. Ferleks stood beside her, alert, sweeping the area.

“My guess? Rebels overthrew local government. Might’ve been why we were patrolling so far from ZK Territory. We might be fighting a war, but if we can’t uphold the laws and keep the troublemakers in line, it’d be anarchy.” Lloyd said, examining the body of a dead man, wearing a wool cap with black and red-style digital camo pants, with a Mars-Tek soft-weave ballistic vest, with a strange symbol of a cobra in front of crossed muskets spray-painted onto the chest. The vest was made up of soft fabric-mesh and weak, light metal plates, forming rectangles in a pattern across the vest, with the fabric making them less defined, and a small metal plate on the front for the emblem to be painted.

“Lloyd, you might be onto something, however it’s not like it matters. Those bandits outside the city, all these bodies, and this rebel all just mean that whatever objective of defending this place was failed. The local military must have been holding off rebels when all hell broke loose… all these bombed out buildings? I’m thinking rebel artillery strikes, and they might’ve got their hands on a Nuclear Warhead, considering there’s signs of unnatural seismic activity, and my suit’s Geiger counter spikes around the larger cracks in the ground.” Sunset speculated.

“The kids under the desks? Nuclear sirens would’ve caused a panic, hence the massive number of cars, and why the outer sectors are so barren. Farther in you get, less prepared they were, and the hastier they were… Question is, why isn’t this city either, A.) a crater, or B.) why didn’t we find a crater, or more damage for that matter? An XR Nuke would level everything from here to our camp and leave enough fallout to last for hundreds of years.” Sunset’s speculation was cut short when Alpha Team contacted them through their comms.

“This is Alpha-One, Bravo Team, what’s the sitrep over there?” Fedir called to them. Ferleks was the one to respond, whilst Sunset and Lloyd began to pile up the corpses inside the main entrance of the school. Sunset found a pair of students huddled together by a classroom door, less decayed than the others, wearing odd clothing with even more odd features. One was a short girl with pink hair, in her late teens, with an odd pendant around her neck with a trio of balloons on it, and a purple-haired girl in fancy clothing, a young adult in her early-to-mid-twenties with a similar pendant sporting instead a trio of diamonds. Sunset pocketed the items and left the bodies be.

“It’s getting darker, the trip through this school was longer than we thought, and we’ve been trying to speculate on what the hell happened here, so we’re going to set up camp for the night, continue on in the morning if some more of those freaks don’t push us out. I’m betting twenty creds on it being some sort of dirty bomb. Irradiated the city without going boom, would’ve died down enough to just rest in the higher soil levels.” Ferleks reported, with his added bet. Fedir chuckled over comms.

“We’ll camp out on the roof of the incomplete complex toward the checkpoint. The debris walls will keep out any monsters of the night, and hey, if we die in the night, you can just steal our loot when you come burn the bodies.” Fedir joked before going radio silent. Lloyd and Sunset had used the remaining scrap and wood lying around to block off the school entrance and windows, whilst Ferleks had gotten their camp set up. Ferleks got first nightwatch shift, Lloyd got second, and Sunset was happy with being awake at 0200 cleaning her rifle by firelight.

The sounds of crickets were a welcome sound. Sunset’s sleep had been restless, and she was glad to get some peaceful silence whilst she processed the events of the last few days and checked up on her gear. She field-stripped her rifle, cleaned the internals a few times, then blinded herself by deactivating her Visual Sensors and reassembled the rifle within three minutes, a record for herself, before activating her visual sensors afterward, repeating the process a few times out of boredom.

Her thoughts drifted to the creature she’d killed. The thing was deformed, and almost… scared looking, in a way. It was angry, but it was not all there in the head, given away by its eyes. The jaw, and the chunk missing from its shoulder were enough evidence for Sunset to keep her guard up when they got moving again. Even now, she hated their surroundings. They were boxed in, with a scrap-metal wall and barred door closing off the courtyard, and barricades keeping the school doors sealed. Her hands started shaking, and Sunset had to hold her hands out in front of her and take a few deep breaths before she did anything else, in fear of damaging something. The synthetic arm was synced with her nerves in a way and shook just as much as her right arm.

Once her hands had steadied, she reached up to take off her helmet, only for a white glow to catch her off-guard. Her pistol was quickly out of its holster, and she whistled to the others over local Comms, awakening Lloyd in a flash, whilst Ferleks took a little longer to wake up.

“Contact, coming through the polished silver plate. Weapons hot.” Sunset readied her pistol, but no matter what gun was in her hand, the armour protecting her body, nothing would prepare her for what bewitchment that would follow.

Suddenly, a burst of air swept through the courtyard as a young woman, sturdily built, with dark purple hair sporting a magenta streak, adorned in bloodied, tattered rags, was thrown through, clutching a small mutt in her arms, with a sucking wound in her abdomen, bleeding fast, in a semi-fetal position—as if she’d just smashed through a window.

“Oh, shit.”

A FEW HOURS EARLIER, CANTERLOT CASTLE, EQUESTRIA. 2100 HOURS, 2278. CURRENT DIMENSION UNKNOWN.

Twilight sweated, with nervousness wracking her frame as she stood by the large double-doors that led to Princess Celestia’s study, flanked by two bulky white-coated unicorn stallions dressed in dark gray uniforms, with orange bands on each of their right wither, sporting the image of a rising sun in a darker orange surrounded by a red circle, the words ‘Excedere omnem’ curving around the top-half of the circle, and the words ‘moverunt lapidem’ curling around the bottom of the emblem. To leave no stone unturned, the motto of the Coming Dawn; Celestia’s personal guard and secret police.The only differentiating that could be done between the two guards, was that the left-side guard sported a long crescent scar across his cheek. There was loud arguing inside, followed by a loud SMACK, then silence, before—presumably Celestia—said something. A white unicorn was dragged out of the study by a pair of maids, one male and a female, his face swollen and bloodied, the white suit on his features stained with the same thick, coppery gunk. Crescent-scar guard stepped into the study for a moment, stepping back out to regard Twilight.

“The princess will see you now.” The left-flanking guard drawled. Twilight nodded and pushed open the doors with her magic, taking a gulp and a deep breath.

The study had red, floral-patterned wall paper and polished sequoia wood flooring. The design hadn’t been changed in over five-hundred or so years, as told by the Victorian design of the bed off in the corner, the desk and the fireplace that sat opposite the door, behind the desk, where a neatly-dressed Celestia was sitting back down. Her attire was an olive-green jacket that held her cutie mark on an orange band on her right wither. Twilight immediately noticed the small puddle of blood by the corner of the desk, and the few droplets on Celestia’s cheek and coat.

“Good afternoon, young Twilight. I hope you had an easy trip here?” Celestia greeted. Her voice seethed of venom and power, giving away no hint of emotion at the same moment. It was the common drawl of the Solar Princess, many had found out when speaking to her directly and not from hearing her speeches or propaganda. There was an arrogance deeply embedded in the voice, however Twilight pushed it aside. The aspiring alicorn mare chuckled nervously.

“Y-Yes, My Princess. It was, erm, calming.” Twilight replied. Nervousness wracked her mind like an automatic crossbow, whilst sweat beads the size of cannonballs dripped from her face. The warm fireplace did her no favours, either.

“Twilight Sparkle, you have been a faithful citizen and a promising acolyte to my… dear sister. There are few who have your fervor when it comes to studying and knowledge.” Celestia began. Twilight took a gulp.

“T-Thank you, my Princess.” Twilight replied wearily, fear and anxiety at the front of her thoughts.

“Because of this, I have decided it is time that you complete a final task; something to fully christen your status as a member of Equestria’s Elite… You see, Twilight, Equestria has been endangered by the reckless actions of a terrorist.” Celestia turned to face the fireplace as she levitated over a prism that depicted a three-dimensional coloured image of a unicorn mare, in her early-to-mid-thirties by the looks of it, with a fiery mane and a yellow coat, maybe five or six years older than Twilight, if she were to guess.

“Sheis a traitor—my personal pupil all those years ago. She… betrayed me, tried to kill me. The coward managed to escape through a portal that had been snuck in by the false-princess Mi Amore Cadenza—Sombra’s wastrel. I followed her, and was able to cripple her, were it not for my pathetic sister, I would’ve slain her, yet here we are. To make a long story short, she knows too much about Equestria and poses a threat. I need you to kill her.” Celestia turned to Twilight and gave her a smug, malicious grin. Twilight was pale and looked queasy.

“I-I don’t…” Twilight stuttered. Twilight’s memories of Celestia were… foggy, conflicting. It made her mentally furrow her brow when she thought of it. Some of them were of a maternal, loving leader… others were of an angry, vengeful authoritarian dictator.

“Twilight, this is a test of courage and bravery—I know you will succeed, because you are courageous! I know you well enough to know that you will not disappoint me.” Celestia’s words made Twilight freeze, her queasiness only getting worse. There were two obvious options here, and neither had an outcome that didn’t end in somepony dying; whether it be Sunset at her hooves, or Twilight at the hooves of an enraged Sun Goddess with an army of magically-engineered false-alicorns and unicorns behind her. Celestia could see the hesitation in her eyes from a mile away.

“Sunset Shimmer was my pupil. She was bright and had a knack for handling her problems head-first—and leaving no loose ends. For that, I magically enhanced her and turned her into a pure-blood alicorn, rid of her… sub-equine, muddled genes. Then, one night, she tried to murder me in my sleep. My advisors and myself haven’t the faintest clue what caused it.” Twilight realized that, at the least, the last sentence was a lie. It was her body language and facial features. Celestia corrected herself and cleared her throat.

“I was able to catch her, and I almost was able to take away her alicornian genes, however I was distracted and the filly was cunning and escaped before I could finish—I was able to sap away her very age using a complex magic, though, taking two-thirds of her age from her, leaving her a whiny brat that would die in the harsh otherworld… So I waited, seven years, for the alicornian genes—ones I had to sacrifice to give that ungrateful whorse her power—to come back. When it didn’t, I tracked her down and I almost killed her, were it not for my sister. I took what was rightfully mine and left, however I do not take that filly as a fool—she was the vengeful type, so I know what she will do now that she’s grown. She has likely amassed an army—the denizens of that world were degenerates, greedy and murderous, would follow her every order at the faintest hint of reward. Twilight Sparkle, the beings of that world are manipulative. Monsters, that if they knew about Equestria and how to get here, they would destroy everything in their path to get to me and to take control of the world, with the traitor as their poster filly. It is a necessary step to securing the survival of Equestria.” Twilight hesitated once more before answering.

“Fine. I’ll… I’ll make sure Sunset Shimmer… dies. Let me go get my friends, and—” Celestia cut Twilight off.

“No, you must do this alone, Twilight Sparkle. Moondancer is but a wastrel and Colgate is but a fool who won’t amount to much other than being a breeder.” Twilight hid her confusion at the mention of the two; mares whom she hadn’t been connected to since fillyhood. Twilight felt her headache getting worse and decided to simply go along with it until she could come up with a better solution.

“I… I will not disappoint you, My Princess.” Twilight caved. Celestia smirked.

“Good! You will leave tomorrow night. You are dismissed…” She motioned for Twilight to leave, before beckoning her to look at her for one last sentence.

“And Twilight? If you betray me, I will know.” Celestia emphasized, wiping the specks of blood from her cheek and jacket with a white cloth—a shred from that beaten-up unicorn’s suit. The message was clear.

“I-I won’t, Princess.” Twilight replied and trotted out, the massive oak doors closing with a loud SLAM behind her, causing her to jolt. Her mind raced with questions, however the one most prominent revolved around her headache, the conflicting memories and wondering what happened that kept Celestia from killing Sunset Shimmer—the memories of the dictatorial Celestia suggested that she killed opposition and held grudges. She trotted back to her room, ready to sleep on it.

Despite these intentions, Twilight could not sleep. Her mind was wracked with unanswerable questions, fear of the unknown among other things. The threat that Celestia made was what scared her the most. Celestia hadn’t ever done such a thing—she barely had any memories of being close enough to Celestia for the threat to even be necessary—anypony else would have died for their Princess. Twilight lifted herself out of bed—careful not to wake the sleeping baby dragon, of course—and left with a candle wick. A walk would do her troubled mind wonders. Luna’s room was on the way, so Twilight decided she might stop in for some advice while she’s awake, considering Luna was like a second mother to the purple alicorn. Upon nearing Luna’s room, Twilight could hear Luna and Celestia arguing, quite an intense argument, too.

“—I’m telling you right here, right now, Sister, that you’re wrong!” Luna began to yell. “You’ve gone too far! You’re sending yet another of our subjects, my personal pupil no less, into the Otherworld on a Faust-damned suicide mission!” Luna screamed at her sister. Celestia replied in kind.

“Sunset Shimmer is the greatest threat to Equestria since Tirek! She was ambitious, and too intelligent and charismatic for her own good! Were it not for your filthy meddling, I would’ve killed the wretch when we found her in that metal pigsty!” Celestia roared back.

“You were just afraid that she would see how weak you’ve gotten and overthrow you!” Luna yelled back. There was the sound of a short scuffle, followed by the breaking of glass.

“DON’T YOU DARE QUESTION MY STRENGTH! You may be my sister, but you will never be my equal. You could train for as long as you have left in your pathetic life, and you still couldn’t be half as strong as me!” Celestia barked. Twilight could hear Luna groan, followed by the sound of grotesque crack of bone and the popping of joints. Twilight cast an invisibility spell as the thumping of hooves grew loud, and a pair of Thestral Guards spun around the corner and burst through the double doors.

“Princess Lu—” The guard was cut off as both were instantly killed by large shards of porcelain embedding themselves into their skulls. Twilight shuffled to the door and peeked her head in.

Luna was hunched down, blood trickling from the side of her head, a foreleg sprained and twisted into an unnatural position. She hissed in pain and glared at Celestia with burning hatred in her eyes. “You’re just as much of a monster as Mother. I may never be as strong as you, but at least I won’t inherit her disgusting, inbred genes! My time is little, and I’m glad I won’t live long enough to experience her insanity, I only regret not dying in time to avoid watching you turn into her.” Luna spat out at Celestia. Rage seemed to boil from the white-coated princess, before she grabbed a sword from the mount across the hall and drove it through Luna’s chest. Twilight suppressed a scream with her hoof and a soundproof bubble of magic around her mouth, tears leaking from her eyes. Luna seemed… shocked, before crumpling to the floor. Celestia scoffed, her expression as if she expected more.

“I may be a monster, but at least I will be remembered.” Celestia spat on the dying figure of the lunar princess, the word ‘degenerate’ being muttered under her breath as she left. Her mane glowed orange with the flames of the sun, and she strode out of the room, the blood of her sister staining her hooves and her hoofprints as she made her way to—presumably—her study. Twilight waited until she was sure Celestia was gone, before rushing to Luna’s side.

“O-Oh my God, Luna…” She whispered, the invisibility spell faltering. Luna coughed blood and adjusted herself—lying on her side, the edge of the blade jutting out her back, the dark, coppery substance of life pooling beneath her.

“T… Twilight Sparkle…” Luna whispered, her eyes drifting off to stare at an indiscriminate spot on the ceiling.

“L-Luna, it-it’s going to be okay, we’re going to get you help…” Twilight lied through her teeth, whether she knew it or not. Luna coughed and fixed her gaze on the purple alicorn. The dying princess began to cry.

“I… I’m so… sorry… Twilight. I’m sorry…” She rasped. Tears filled her eyes as her body shook softly. Twilight shook her head and held the dying princess’ face in her hooves.

“No, no, no… you can apologise later when we… we get you better!” Twilight said, choking back tears. Luna shook her head ever so gently.

“… Sunset… Find… Sunset Shimmer. She will… save us all… If not for me… for Spike and all your friends…” She began violently coughing, before she began to go limp. Twilight choked back a sob and nodded.

“I… I will, Luna…”

“So… tired… I’m going… to sleep now…” Luna’s eyes fluttered shut and her mouth lolled open. Twilight didn’t bother holding back and cried into the neck of the lunar goddess. It was a few moments before she could move or respond.

“S-Sleep well…” Twilight gently rested Luna’s head onto a throw-pillow from a nearby sofa in her room, when an odd purple box on Luna’s dresser caught her eye. It had her cutie mark on it, and a note. She grabbed the box and read the note aloud.

“… ‘She has the key… Find the Rightful Sun Goddess.’” Twilight shook her head and tucked the box under her wing. Where the box once sat was a narrow dagger with Luna’s cutie mark embedded into a jewel in the grip. Twilight hesitated before tucking it under her free wing, then hauled flank back to her room to grab Spike and get out. She avoided the patrolling Coming Dawn, shutting the door behind her. The commotion awoke Spike, who groaned as he rubbed his eyes. Good, that’ll make my job just a bit easier… Twilight thought. She trotted over to the young dragon.

“Pack your things Spike, we’re leaving. Now.” She said. Spike’s confusion was evident on his features.

“Huh…? Twilight, what time is it?” He mumbled. Twilight groaned and grabbed his shoulders, waking him up right away.

“Spike, something very bad has happened, and we need to escape the castle if we are going to survive… Luna’s gone, so she can’t help us.” Twilight, albeit censoring it for the child, explained what happened. The fear got him awake and moving. Twilight packed her things and slung her saddlebags and noticed that Spike was sitting dormant on the bed, terrified. She trotted over to the young drake. He turned to her, tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

“Are… Are we gonna die, Twilight?” Spike asked, fear in his quivering voice. Twilight stopped to shake her head.

“I won’t let them hurt you, Spike. Just hold onto my neck and don’t let go.” Twilight ordered, to which he instantaneously responded, climbing onto her back and hugging onto her neck for dear life. Twilight quickly left her room and navigated the corridors with caution, keeping a lethal stun spell charged in her horn. What am I doing? Am I really going to kill anypony? Twilight thought to herself, although she already knew the answer. The Coming Dawn were just as responsible for Luna’s death as Celestia—she was their puppet master and they were her marionettes.

“Hey! Princess! What are you doing out so late?” Horse apples. Twilight swore internally, turning around to see a Solar Guard, his helmet off, the disguise spell disabled—she recognized him as Flash Sentry, he was new. Perhaps…

“Princess, you look like you’ve been crying, are you—"

“Flash, I need you to listen to me. I need to get out of here… Something terrible’s happened, and the life of myself, and everypony I care about, is in danger. I need you to tell me where the mirror portal is.” Twilight demanded, placing her hoof on his wither. She took a risk and told him everything that transpired.

“I… Don’t… It’s down the hall. It’s guarded by the Coming Dawn, so be careful. I’d come with you… but they put us on the watch for suspicious individuals and Lunar Guards… They said that they’re all being controlled… that they killed their Princess. I think they’re after you, Twi. Get going, I’m going to try and round up the rest of the Lunar Guards… maybe I can get them out.” Flash said and gave her a nod before galloping down the hallway in the opposite direction. Twilight took a deep breath, and teleported herself just inside the portal room, using an estimation, and thankfully didn’t get herself stuck in the floor. She trotted up to the large mirror on a pedestal surrounded by steps, with two dead Lunar Guards splayed across the ground in front of it, staining the surface of the mirror with blood. Twilight told Spike to close his eyes and moved the bodies. She channeled her magic into the portal, causing the blood to waver, before seemingly melting off and evaporating into the air. It emitted a loud hum. Maybe, just maybe she’d get out of this without violence—

Creeaaaak!

The sound of the door opening tossed aside these thoughts immediately.

“Oh, horse apples.” Twilight grabbed the discarded weapon of one of the Lunar Guards, a battle axe, as two guards of the Coming Dawn stormed in. Twilight tried to back into the portal, only to feel the massive amount of heat radiating from it and realize it was charging up. The two false-alicorn CD drew short-bladed swords, slowly approaching. Twilight placed Spike down and charged forward, roaring and swinging the axe, blasting one Dawn pony with a spell.

The guard used a golden shield bubble to block, then swung his blade at Twilight, creating a cut across above her eye, deep enough to cause a nasty bleed, whilst his partner did the same with the other eye. Twilight growled as her vision became impaired by trickling blood, and she picked up the other dead night guard’s weapon, a spear, and threw it at the left-flanking CD Guard, causing him to drop his blade from his magic to focus on grabbing the spear. Twilight used the second of time to launch the axe into the guard’s head. He screamed as a loud CRACK indicated it had split his horn and his skull. Twilight was suddenly thrown against a wall by a strong gust of wind.

“Twilight… Oh Twilight.” Celestia’s voice plagued Twilight’s hearing. She wiped her eyes and looked up, to see Celestia towering over her, Spike clutched in her magic as she stood off to the side from the portal, grabbing at his throat. She was… choking him. The portal behind her was no longer emitting steam, so if Twilight timed herself just right, she could snatch Spike and launch herself through the portal.

“Why did you need to get involved? You were destined for such greatness…” Celestia pondered for a moment, before smirking and drawing a long blade, ready to thrust it into Twilight’s chest for what she thought would be an easy kill.

“I’m going to have fun with this.” Celestia’s grip on Spike weakened, having diverted the energy into both choking him, and holding the blade. Bingo. Twilight propelled herself at Spike, grabbing him with her hooves and clutching him to her chest—however she was painfully aware of Celestia as she sliced open Twilight’s abdomen upon passing. Twilight’s vision became blurry as she passed through the portal, Spike secured in her arms, a stream of blood trailing behind her as her consciousness left her, and the portal closed.

Celestia growled, watching Twilight pass through. Angrily, she grabbed the edges of the mirror, and applied pressure, causing the glass to crack and creak. She roared and applied a massive amount of force, causing the portal to shatter, an airburst knocking down the other CD guards and Celestia. The frame was warped from the heat of the energy. Celestia got back up and huffed.

“Have the guards clean up the bodies, and I want that framed melted down for the silver.” Celestia barked at the CD Guard, before heading out of the room. There was much to be done. Now that Luna was dead, the Sun Goddess had her freedom of power back, which meant she could get her war machine moving again, which meant she could finally stamp out the pathetic insurrection cells in the North and continue her march across Equis…

[1] For reference only. MJOLNIR Armour was not even a concept at the time.

Chapter Two: Enter Twilight.

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Chapter Three: First Contact

Twilight felt numb as her eyes fluttered awake. It felt as if her eyelids weighed as much as sandbags. She groaned and tried to sit up, rubbing the side of her head with her… hand?

Twilight’s heart began pounding as she realized everything was very wrong. Her anatomy was all off—no muzzle, bipedal, hands… like that of a monkey, except off in many other ways. She had olive-coloured skin, with short purple hair. Her body was covered by an odd outfit—a pair of leggings, slippers and a top that were grayish blue, with black hexagons across the entire surface. The hexagons along her abdomen were orange, and she noticed a strong tingling sensation along the area. The external appearance was smooth and shiny—like flexible plastic. The inside felt like fabric… cotton? Likely 75-80% cotton to be specific. Twilight was torn between screaming and fainting from excitement—on one hand, she just woke up in a foreign place, with a foreign body, wearing foreign clothes with no idea how she’d gotten the—

Twilight’s heart fell as her memories came back at her like an offensive kinesis spell to the head. She remembered escaping through the portal, getting injured by Celestia, then blackness, with the occasional nightmare about Luna intermittently shoehorned in. She hissed in pain at the headache that arose from it, jolting upright as she felt a cold metallic object grab her arm. Twilight exhaled with fear and turned to look at what had grabbed her.

It was a tall, bipedal creature—not unlike her, likely a male of the species, or a male-defined robot—wearing some sort of thin white plating underneath an olive-drab Ulster coat with an inverness half-cape and ruffled batwing sleeves, an orange-reddish camouflaged—made up of odd, almost random tiny and large squares—gaiter and an odd white helmet/head (she hadn’t decided if it was a robot yet) that was round and smooth toward the front, curving back to a basic, smooth and soft-seeming triangular blade at the top-back of the helmet, as if it was supposed to have a feather-plume or something of the sort along the top. Down the back were overlapping, flexible soft-edged triangular plates. It had a glowing bright blue V broadly cut into its face from temple to chin, made up of some odd glass-like material with hexagonal patterns. It had pronounced fins along the jaw that formed corners, odd tubes hidden beneath them, only visible if someone were to look up at the helmet/head from the bottom. The chest piece was pronounced, yet basic, save for an odd device mounted on the broadest section of the front—a glowing blue interface on two angled rectangles that made two sides of a triangle, forming a floating, glowing… screen of sorts in front of the helmet. Twilight recognised a… picture of her in the corner of the screen, with odd writing beneath it that she could not understand. She opened her mouth to speak, only for the odd machine-person-thing to place a finger over her lips.

“Do not speak, save your strength.” His—she could confirm it was a male, likely just in some sort of special suit of armour—voice had an odd accent she could not pin down. It closely resembled a Czechosoclopian accent, with some influences of other accents that she didn’t recognize.

“W… Where—” She was cut off as he shushed her, then… pulled a block of text off the screen in front of his helmet and threw it across the room, onto another screen. It shut Twilight up and had her nearly dropping her jaw as she watched.

“You are on the planet Eiter-VI—an abandoned Vanguard Federal Military-demilitarised zone. A joint squad of marines found you in the city, barely alive—were it not for their Non-Com you’d be dead, little lady.” The man explained. Twilight only gave a nod, still processing everything.

“I’ll tell you whatever you want to know in a few hours—we had to sedate you, so you’d calm down, you were experiencing a very bad nightmare. Anyway, one of the Non-Coms who found you would like to speak with you. Be… calm, she is quick to react and quicker to judge. One thing… what is your name, for the record?” He asked. Twilight hesitated before answering.

“… Twilight. Twilight Sparkle.” Her truth would benefit her or come back to bite her—her drug-dulled brain didn’t care. The man typed something on a glowing hollow blue keyboard, then it disappeared.

“Thank you. My name is Kamil Rezek.” He gave her a curtsy and walked around a corner out of sight. Twilight heard a zipper, followed by a hiss of what she assumed was pressurization, followed by metal against metal. What greeted her, was a seven-foot wall of mismatched parts. It wasn’t entirely organic, with one leg and one arm on opposite sides being metallic, skeletal with odd painted plates covering them. Her helmet was clipped to a belt along her abdomen, with a menacing black brick with a rubber handle poking out of a brown leather bag on her hip, alongside many square pouches and what Twilight recognised as a knife, a military one if the design was anything to go off. The right side of her face was covered in red scar tissue, surrounding a blank, glassy eyeball with wiry bits and pieces of circuitry bolted into the tissue around it. She held an expression of monotony and tiredness—the bags under her eyes and the smell of body odour indicated she likely hadn’t slept or bathed in a while. She wore armour akin to Kamil’s, except it had the same camouflage pattern as his neck gaiter, and was a tad bulkier along the remaining arm, with odd, miniature tube-like pieces poking out of the pauldron-bit, likely where a needle or some sort of electrical circuitry would connect to. A soft-cap with a matching pattern of camouflage and a set of three chevrons, two connected with another at the bottom with two shapes in between that Twi couldn’t make out. Something about her seemed familiar to Twilight, yet so foreign… she couldn’t quite put her hoof—er, finger, on it. The female bipedal placed down a metal folding chair she’d been holding under her good arm and took a seat beside Twilight’s bed.

“I don’t believe we’ve properly met. Now, maybe its for the best that we change that. What’s your name?” Her accent was off. It sounded like mid-southern Equestrian—a modest, less apparent accent than what Applejack or Braeburn had. Twilight repeated her name, to which the female nodded and pulled out a small white package with a red triangle along the lid.

“You smoke?” She asked. Twilight hesitantly shook her head. The female shrugged and pulled out a lighter, flicking the lid open and setting ablaze the end of the cigarette. She took a few cautionary puffs before letting it sit in the edge of her mouth.

“Suit yourself. Now, why don’t you tell me how in the blazes you miraculously just appeared outta thin air?” The woman asked. Twilight didn’t respond, taking a vote of silence to think. Her first choice, if it were ponies, she would be to simply explain who she was, a princess of the Equestrian Empire—however she wasn’t dealing with ponies. She was dealing with strange creatures that she couldn’t recognize and found herself mystified at her hesitation. Within her was a deep, primal sense of self-preservation and fight-or-flight that was never there before she’d awoken.

“You gonna answer me or just sit there lookin’ like a braindead Zulu-Kilo?” Her vernacular sought confusion.

“Zulu… Kilo?” Twilight clarified, which the woman replied by giving her a look of utter bewilderment, as if Twilight had just sprouted a pair of antlers.

“Yeah, Zulu-Kilo. Jerry, thing-o-nightmares, Satan’s illegitimate child with alcoholism? You know. Them.” The venom dripping from her voice was as apparent as the scars on her face.

“Oh, yeah! Those… rascals.” Twilight began to improvise, letting out a half-hearted laugh. The woman frowned.

“Don’t dodge the question—who are you, where you from?” She asked again. Twilight gulped—Here goes nothing.

“My… My name is Twilight Sparkle. I hail from a distant land known—” She was cut off by a snicker.

“Your name is Twilight Sparkle? Jesus Christ, that’s almost as bad as ‘Sunset Shimmer!’” The moment those words came out, Twilight remembered where she recognised the female. The hair colour, the yellowish skin—this was Sunset Shimmer, the pony she was warned about by Luna and sent after by Celestia. Twilight kept a straight face long enough to respond.

“I… I hail from a land known as… uh… Rez…Ekistan. Yes. Rezekistan.” Twilight gave her a false smile, unable to detect the shivering motion her hand was making, or the eye twitch or the cold sweat. Sunset hummed and nodded, before removing the knife from the sheathe on her leg and placing it in her dominant hand—the right one, her organic one.

“I call bullshit. You don’t seem very confident in your answer and you look like you’re ready to crack open like an egg at a loud sneeze. Give me the truth, or I take this thumb,” She placed her fake hand’s thumb against the orange spots on Twilight’s top, “and jamb it in somewhere real sensitive.” Twilight’s heart was thumping in her chest and she gulped. “I… I am from a planet known as E-Equus, in a land k-known as the Equestrian Empire.” Sunset gave her a once-over. There was hesitation… and recognition in her expression, although the latter was less prevalent than Twilight would’ve liked.

“You ain’t from around here, are you?” Sunset asked rhetorically, removing her thumb. Twilight let out a breath and nodded quickly.

“I apologise for my hostilities, then. Never can be too careful these days… As you may have guessed, my name is Sunset Shimmer, pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Sunset held out her hand to shake, a gesture that Twilight didn’t recognize.

“You gonna shake it or just lay there lookin’ braindead?” Twilight’s mind flicked back on and she hesitantly shook Sunset’s hand, which dwarfed hers just a wee bit. Her grip was gentle, but strong. She released Twilight and coughed.

“Now then, with that out of the way… I’ve been instructed to get some information out of you. I think that I will still do that…” Sunset began. Twi’s heart started back up, her pupils shrinking to pinpricks. “… however, I think instead of extracting that information, I believe I will… trade you, for it.” Twilight tilted her head.

“Do you know the transdimensional coordinates of Equus?” Sunset asked, her tone indicating she was reading off the block of text intermittent with lines for answers on the surface of her good arm.

“The what?” Twilight asked, confused. Sunset cleared her throat.

“Does Equus or any nations sharing control of Equus have any allied ties, indirectly or directly, to the Zeri’ Kahni Empire—I doubt you even know what a ZK is, so I’ll just check that off as N/A.” Sunset looked over an odd holographic surface on her good arm, flickering every so often. Twilight answered as many questions as truthfully as possible.

Once finished, Sunset called for 1st Commissioned-Medical-Officer Rezek, who was quick to approve Twilight for admission to the base. She was given a pair of boots and a dark-gray jacket made of flexible, shiny nanocarbon-canvas mesh fibre, and the two oddly-named women were off.

“Why are you in this camp?” Twilight asked as they walked down a dirt road leading down a small residential-section of their makeshift base, with towering walls of scrap and razour-wire tipped with spotlights and industrial work-lights. Sunset had showed her the other parts of their campsite, which consisted entirely of scrap-metal walls with corrugated steel shelters and a single massive concrete and metal complex that was constantly bustling with activity.

“Our ship got shot out of the sky. Currently, I’m waiting on a call for a briefing on the next op. I think we’re just going to stop at the kennels to get your dog, then you’re going down for rest. Your body’s still working all the sedative out of your system and I can’t have you sedated in the event I need to drag you along with me.” Sunset explained. She brought Twilight to a large reinforced building with a heavy steel bulkhead door that had been welded and warped to be repurposed from an airlock to a blast door. The entire facility was built in the sand, with a small set of railings around the quick-cement base of the bunker to keep sand from jamming the door. Regardless, the red sand was gathered along the corners and edges of the railing and the walls. Sunset grabbed the circular crank and twisted it to the left, causing the door to groan and creak from the strain placed on the makeshift steel structure that held the door in place. It swung inward, to reveal a large array of cages and crates that had been repurposed into dog-houses, with blankets covering the floor or top of the cages and crates. Sunset led her through a maze of crates, with many VFMMC-K9 Personnel wandering about, dressed in KAVACHA suits or standard VANFEDNAV jumpsuits with the VANFEDMIL Marine Corps K9 crest emblazoned on the back, or patched onto their arms. One of which was a short woman with pink hair, who had a white mutt—likely a mix between a sheltie and am eskimo—sleeping at her feet. Beside her, an odd mutt akin to a Pitbull in many ways. It shot up and jumped onto Twilight as soon as it saw her, knocking her to the ground where she tried to get the dog to calm down as it licked her face repeatedly.

“Goddessdamn it—Spike!” Twilight spat out, coughing and sputtering. Sunset watched whilst standing next to the blonde woman.

“How’s the dog been?” She asked. The woman shook her head with a smile on her face.

“He’s been quite friendly with the dummy down here.” She nudged the white dog, causing it to awaken and look up at her with an expression of ‘are you kidding me’ to the extreme.

“Surprised to see so many mutts…” Sunset mumbled, twiddling a cigarette between her fingers idly whilst Twi reunited with her companion.

“What can I say? I hate seeing hungry animals. Besides, we lost most of the shepherds in the crash, those that survived were badly hurt. I’ve been able to train most of them. This one is more of a personal companion than anything.” The woman squatted and pet the dog. It laid its head back down and went back to sleep.

“Never change, friend.” Sunset patted the woman’s shoulder and walked over to the prone Twilight, who was being bombarded by dog tongue. Sunset picked Spike up by the scruff with her good arm, holding her hand out to Twi.

“Need a hand there?” Sunset teased. Twilight accepted after a moment of breathing rapidly, leaning against Sunset, whom picked up her crutch and slipped it under Twi’s arm, placing the dog on the floor, grabbing the other and doing the same with the other arm. Twilight cast a curious glance over the ‘MC-K9 officer—Fayette Clark if her nametag was to suggest anything—ready to speak, however was interrupted by Sunset clearing her throat.

“Alright, you got your dog. We best be going to the barracks now. You’ll need the rest.” Twilight nodded at Sunset’s suggestive order, bidding the ‘MC-K9 officer a good day before following Sunset to the bunkhouse, or barracks as Sunset called it. The building was a 30x20 meter shack, with concrete floors, wood-panel and corrugated sheet metal walls and a half-cylinder roof, with ‘COMPANY C BARRACKS’ spray-painted onto a board above the door, hanging from a railroad spike nailed into the wall. Sunset held the door open while Twilight hobbled in, Spike by her feet. Twilight recognised a few of the humans from her nightmares, one of the few aliens. The bunkroom had worklights and dulled, depressing yellow hanging ceiling-bulbs for illumination, with about twenty-five double-bunks, three of which had a helmet and an array of pictures and candles on them. It didn’t take her level of intellect to realise what they symbolized. Sunset gave Twilight one of the light woolen blankets.

“You’re on the couch until we can get you a real bunk. For your safety, don’t try to sleep on a bunk until I tell you which one yours is to sleep in—we hold our bunks to a high respect and it is an ultimate disrespect to steal someone else’s bunk.” Sunset explained. Twilight nodded, lying down. Sunset’s HUD beeped, and she left without another word, leaving Twilight to her thoughts.

‘This world is… different. A lot more violent outwardly—at least from what I remember. Can’t believe anything anymore.’ Twilight yawned and closed her eyes, with Spike curled up by her head.

“Night, Twilight…” Spike whispered. Twilight repeated the gesture and allowed an unruly sleep to claim her consciousness and subject her to more nightmares.

Sunset stepped inside Briefing Room A3 with a scratch of her cheek and a cough. Right away, she identified Ferleks, along with Company C’s First Lieutenant Oleksij Kyrylovyh Voloshyn and his squad, along with members of Sergeant Victor Beldad’s squad present as well, with the ten-by-twenty-meter room filled by eleven soldiers and the Regiment Commander, whom had his left arm in a sling, the right arm and both legs replaced with cybernetics. Half his face was being held together with metal pins and bolts, barely recognizable as a face. Sunset felt phantom pain in her cheek when her eyes met his. It took not long for her to take her seat at the back with Ferleks and a private in lighter-built KAVACHA Scout-armour, which lacked pauldrons, had thinner thigh and torso plates and an abundance of canvas pouches, slings, satchels and a long backpack for folding-stock rifles, likely carrying one and plenty of ammunition. The reddish-orange camouflage contrasted greatly with the olive-drab and black canvas.

“Is… everyone ready?” The regiment commander asked, venom in his voice. He spoke slow, carefully piecing together words, or rapidly spitting them out like venom, his voice gravelly and as sour as he was. It was almost like the voice of an Eliksni with how the metal in his jaw and throat clicked and whirred.

“Good, good… Now! We have reason to believe that N… NAV…COM! NAVCOM! NAVCOM knows whe…re we are. We just need… to-make-them hear us! We will be sending… Beldad… Shimmer… and Vol… Volo… Grr—THE SLAV! We will be sending… the slav’s squad too. Your three combined… forces! Will… infiltrate several cah… COMMS! Comms facilities—and capture them from the degenerates that… currently… control them! We split… into three groups. Beldad, yourself, Remizov, Corp…oral Yi. Powell… Breckon—and Perlitch. You will get to the various… Arrays of towers… YOU WILL… You… ACTIVATE THEM! Your designa… DESIGNATION! It is ALPHA. Shimmer… The Xeno… and… Carb… CARBALLAR! You will capture the first Comms Facility. Your designation is BRAVO. Dolz…hikov… Ischenko! Voloshyn! Y… You will capture the second Facility. You are CHARLIE. Radio in… when your tasks are complete. Head out… 0600 tomorrow. Out! Now!” He hobbled out of sight, flanked by a Battle Casket-adorned soldier, likely a marine or army trooper with more than a few bits of their brain replaced with cybernetics. The marines of Company C dispersed into the three groups. Sunset was walking out of the briefing room, her mind full of thoughts when the lieutenant placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Gunny.” He regarded her, walking alongside her out of Briefing Room-A3. She nodded in his direction.

“You notice how drugged up the Romeo-Charlie was?” Oleksij asked. A nod was her response.

“Yes sir, I did. Inspires me with the greatest confidence that the command structure is still intact after one ship crashed, one just disappeared and another that is probably a wreckage in space. Sir.” Sunset replied, slipping her helmet on as they exited the building. A sandstorm was blowing through, however the built in visour filters allowed her vision to remain minimally impaired.

“I know. Listen… Command wants you to take the civilian with you. Toss her in some armour, give her an EMCR and bring her with.” He said. Sunset clenched her fist and stopped, placing a finger to the lieutenant’s chest.

“Come on! Why do I have to babysit the civilian!?” She confronted the 1st Lieutenant.

“Just because you’ve got a shiny new rank and a few scars doesn’t mean you can fuckin’ disrespect me, Gunny! I will have you thrown in the fucking brig if you do not tighten up your act, are we perfectly goddamned CLEAR?!” Sunset snapped a salute and nodded, kicking herself for her outburst.

“Sir, I apologise, sir.” Sunset hollered. Oleksij nodded and continued on his way down the dirt road.

“Keep yourself subordinate until we’re in the fray. I wouldn’t want to brig you over something stupid.” He disappeared off into the sand.

“Edgy fuck…” Sunset whispered before heading back to the barracks, ready for a few precious hours of sleep. Her HUD automatically brought up a mini-map in the corner of her screen, with a route to the Company C Barracks building. Trudging through the hideous amounts of sand was little more than a chore thankfully, arriving and kicking the sand from her prosthesis. She found her bunk and laid down on it. It was an awkward fit—considering the suit of power armour was so heavy—however Sunset was quick to find sleep.

Meanwhile, In Orbit.

The Vanguard Federal Navy (VFN) Thames was escorted by three ships during its time in the system that Eiter-VI was in. One was the magnificent capital ship of ten kilometers length, the Mecca, another was the hulking Destroyer-class vessel, the Gao, and the third was a prime example of Vanguard engineering and ingenuity; a Mothership-Class Portal-Cracker. A wide ship with two long sections with a massive space between; much akin to a tuning fork. Massive electromagnetic coils lined the inner sections of either prong, with a large circular disc at the back, with two smaller circles within it, glowing with deep, powerful energies of both Eldritch and Holy nature. Each prong was twelve kilometers long and three kilometers tall; the bulk of the ship—really the ship itself—was five kilometers tall and, nine kilometers wide and six kilometers long, all of it dipped in glorious silver-white paint with golden inlay, giving it an expensive appearance. This ship’s name was the Edison.

The Portal-Cracker is an integral part of Vanguard military tactics—to rip open a massive superportal to another universe, which would destabilise and distort the space-time within a bubble of dilation that often encompassed an entire solar system for convenience. It was no small feat that often required the Portal-Cracker to devour entire moons or gas giants to fuel its machinery. Were this technology to fall into the wrong hands, it could lead to catastrophic consequences, despite the single-use design of Portal-Cracker ships.

This is the reason for Orruth stood upon the bridge of his capital ship, the Everlasting Conflict, with fury in his heart and pride in his chest. The design of the Portal-Cracker closely mirrored the design of his ship—a great disrespect in his eyes, a coincidence in reality—with his having heavy, thick chitinous outer armour and bulbous, smooth inner armour made of strong alloys made in the greatest forges in his empire. The ship had two massive coiled prongs at its front and a tall, narrow ship-body at the back, ready to drop off the portal-cracking bits once used. The VFN Gao currently suspended between them in a litany of webs and cables made of specialised organic material secreted by the great beasts that powered the engines of his ship. The tall, black bipedals of his race, the Sero Guay, escorted the captured crew of the Gao into the many airlocks of his ship, using long, transparent thick tongue-tubes with razour-like teeth for docking. The soldiers—except for their Honoured captain—were all executed and thrown into the void without second thought.

“<Brother, we have secured the Shipmaster. He has been disarmed and will be brought to you.>” Orruth’s noble brother, Keshaii, reported in their native tongue via their telepathic connection. The flanged clicking and hissing brought Orruth a sense of calm as he replied.

“<Good. I will be awaiting your arrival, Brother.>” The heavy alloy doors screeched open as Keshaii and two Sero Guay in heavy platemaile stepped in, dragging behind them a massive human that rivaled Orruth in height, standing at maybe eight foot without the suit of knight’s armour that his soldiers wore. His frame was bare save for a pair of shorts, revealing the many surgical scars and flogging marks. He had vibrant ginger hair with a massive beard that grazed his abdomen with his head down. His eyes, despite easily displaying his exhaustion, were full of bravery and spoke of his honour with high marks.

“Look at what we have here. Another degenerate from the far reaches; whom might you be, swine?” Orruth spoke aloud to the humanoid. His head weakly rose, and he spat out an answer in Swedish.

“” Orruth’s neck-mounted translator allowed his understanding of this, however he would have none of it, and grabbed Ludvig by the jaw with his sickly long trio of clawed fingers.

“Do not speak to me in your filthy pig speech or I will have you flogged and beaten until there is little left but bloody pulp and bone.” Orruth hissed. Ludvig stared him down before spitting in the face of the massive Sero Guayan King. Orruth’s rage and pride boiled up, and he would have no more.

“You vile… filth! You deserve to be burned for your disrespect.” Orruth slapped him across the cheek and took a few steps back.

“Your disgusting cross-breeding and infidelity to the natural order of the Multiverse fills me with pride, knowing that I will be the one to slay you.” This prompted Ludvig to laugh.

“” Ludvig spoke. Orruth growled.

“You know not a thing of war, profligate.” Orruth spat. Ludvig smirked and stared up at Orruth with confidence oozing from his voice.

“” Ludvig returned. Orruth removed the super-heated Karambit-style Sero Guayan blade, made of alloyed metal and wrapped in binding and cord for a comfortable grip. He sliced across Ludvig’s stomach and dropped the knife, barking an order for the Sero Guay in platemaile to step back.

“Then fight me, human. We will see who the truest warrior is.” To the surprise of Orruth, Ludvig made not a peep, standing up on two shaky legs with determination and a lack of fear apparent in the way he carried himself. He strode forward and grabbed the knife, spinning it in his hand to get a feel before charging at Orruth, the Sero Guayan King returning the gesture. The two met in the middle and circled one another, Ludvig low to the ground and ready to pounce, Orruth poised to retaliate in kind.

Orruth launched himself toward Ludvig, slashing across his arm and down his chest, ready to dig his claws in deep. Ludvig spun to dodge the stab and delivered a quick blow to Orruth’s face, across his cheek, causing his mandibles to splay out as he screamed in pain and anger. Ludvig’s titanium-reinforced knuckles would provide all the damage he needed; the knife was just a precaution and a deterrent; he’d rather keep the advantage from the massive Grey-looking alien than allow him to pull any tricks.

The two clashed with their fists and claws, pounding one another to exhaustion. Ludvig realised this could go on for hours more; hours he didn’t have with the sucking abdominal wound he had. In a last act of desperation and defiance, he drove the knife at home into one of Orruth’s mandibles, dragging it up into his cheek. Ludvig knew what would happen next; feeling a sense of satisfaction as many bolts of superheated plasma struck him in the legs and back, causing him to crumple.

“<Something… to remember me by… cunt…>” Ludvig spat out before Keshaii was over him, double-tapping him with a bolt-caster sidearm, a smooth yet bulky plasma pistol that melted Ludvig into a puddle of boiling blood and seared bone.

“That… Filthy… Degenerate.” Orruth hissed, removing the knife with a cry of pain. Blood dripped from his face. Keshaii said nothing and helped Orruth to his personal medical ward.

Doubt of their all-powerful emperor sprung into his mind, however Keshaii chocked it up to anger at the human for delivering such an attack. He glanced back to the shadow cast over the Gao from the tall command tower that lorded over the ship, before focusing on his brother…

Thames Refugee Camp, 0570 Hours.

The smell of burning flesh and decay filled the air. Twilight sits on her knees, her body bruised and broken from conflict. Applejack and Pinkie Pie are directly to her left; humans with odd skin matching the colour of their fur. Rarity is farther down the line, with Celestia standing in front of her, an odd gray weapon in her hand, old, likely Germane in design. She was clad in a menacing black uniform with long coattails, a symbol of a setting sun on the horizon with a skull inside of the blazing circle. She uttered a phrase in Imperial Gryphon and pulled the trigger on the device. Twilight could only scream and try to resist, however a stallion held her down, with a metal device—likely the barrel of a musket—against the back of her head. Tears streamed down her face and she struggled as Celestia moved onto Applejack. She repeated the words and pulled the trigger. Twilight begged for Pinkie Pie to run, to do something, however she only stared ahead. She said something to Celestia and spat—a last act of defiance, before Celestia pulled the trigger. Twilight’s eyes shot open to Sunset sitting at the end of the couch by her feet.

The mare-turned-marine was fully decked out with a brown ulster coat akin to Rezek’s, in the way of the half-cape along its shoulders and her armour, with several emblems on her coat, one on either arm and a red Seven-of-Diamonds on her back. On the left shoulder was the symbol of a two-headed phoenix with three arrows clutched within one talon, with an olive branch in the other claw. It was positioned on an oval, with a semi-circle behind the phoenix, with a triangle connected to it, making a crude upside-down tear-drop shape. On the right shoulder was a one-headed phoenix wearing a green helmet covered in netting full of leaves, carrying a black box, likely a rifle of sorts, in its wings. It was designed to look grizzled, with the words ‘WIDOWER REGIMENT, VFMMC’ along the top, and ‘RUHM IM LEBEN, SIEG IM TOD’ along the bottom, curving with the circle surrounding the emblem.

“We’ve got to get going. Put this on; don’t touch any of the buttons on the rifle and especially don’t touch the trigger,” Sunset placed a stack of items and a backpack in Twilight’s lap. “…and if you need to talk about whatever you saw in that nightmare, I’m no stranger to ‘em myself.” Sunset hesitantly finished. Twilight nodded and looked over the items—a headscarf, a pair of strange goggles and a black brick like the one on Sunset’s thigh, along with a heavy vest and a helmet.

“What’s this?” Twilight asked, slipping on the items with minimal issue—she found herself having more fluidness as she got used to her newly bipedal form. Walking was easy, as was mastering her usage of the fingers. Sunset snickered.

“One of the most common sidearms in the Federation. That there, missy, is the Sevlic Republic Model Three Automatic Personal Defense Weapon, or S-R-3 Automatic P-D-W. Shoots small-caliber bullets that are easy to make.” Sunset explained, placing the weapon on safety before showing Twilight how to hold, shoot and load the pistol. The thing was bulky, with a significantly more brick-like design than the one on Sunset’s leg, with an odd metal pipe that unfolded and fit onto her shoulder. The stock, Twilight recalled Sunset’s terminology from their tour of the Armoury. Sunset also showed her how to use the radio built into the odd ear-muff-bits on the sides of the inside of the helmet, and that if she was caught using the radio inappropriately—whatever that meant—she would be flogged by Sunset’s platoon-mates. Something about seventy-percent of their days becoming PT.

“You sure know a lot about weapons.” Twilight said, placing it into a special clip on her backpack with some help from Sunset.

“It’s a necessity to survive. Can’t find a working weapon? Better know how to fix or replace parts on one. Need to recycle ammunition because of scarcity? Better know how to use a reloading press.” Sunset coughed, helping Twilight up. She was able to walk without the crutches thankfully. Spike hopped down from the sofa and stayed by Twilight’s legs, and away from Sunset.

“So, what did you do before you… um, joined up?” Twilight asked. Sunset paused, then hummed.

“I don’t remember. I was… maybe six when I was conscripted.” Sunset replied. Twilight choked for a moment.

“Six?! I-Is the human life span a lot shorter than I thought, or—” Twilight began, only to be cut off by Sunset clearing her throat.

“Calm down. Most humans who are healthy and take care of themselves can live to about… 140, 150, average, if they get the chance. However, my people just got out of a century’s long conflict, where we were losing a fight to the death of our species and the death of the ideals of freedom itself. Conscripting kids for better-trained soldiers when they got older was all that we could do, and that barely cut it.” Sunset explained how the Vanguard had been fighting another group of humans, who felt themselves to be superior to all other groups genetically and morally, to the point that they believed that no other group of—as they put it—sub-humans or Xenos, the aliens who were allied with the mainstream of Humanity, deserved the galaxy that they resided in. Slow ships combined with strong navy and infantry led to the conflict becoming drawn out over one-hundred years, with billions upon billions of civilians and military personnel dead. Sunset concluded by removing her helmet to rub her eyes.

“The war ended a few years ago after a brief armistice. I fought some of the most fanatical psychopaths during my early service years. Lost some of what makes me human along the way.” Sunset finished, her voice shaking slightly. Twilight didn’t respond, taken aback by this new information.

“I’m… My Goddess, that must’ve been rough.” Twilight sputtered out. Sunset gave out a laugh, a hollow chuckle with dryness and without heartiness.

“That’s puttin’ it lightly… Moving on from my bullshit, though. I was conscripted at six—I can’t remember anything from when I was younger than sixteen. Just muscle-memory and snippets of my training.” Sunset slipped her helmet back on and stood up.

“Enough of that, though—we’ve got places to be.” Sunset helped Twilight up and walked with the young woman to a wide makeshift bunker of quick-drying cement and corrugated scrap metal, debriefing her as they trudged through the brunt of a sandstorm.

The Garage was quite bare, using industrial worklights and scavenged fixtures from the hull of the Thames to keep it lit, with a set of portable petroleum generators powering the complex. The oddly-satisfying scent of oil and sounds of engineers and mechanics hard at work on many different vehicles within the garage, specifically a pair of large spider-like vehicles with large cannons mounted at the front and a small contingent of smaller vehicles, akin to the massive spider “tanks” with six treaded legs and a long body comparable to an SUV or minivan, having a tall glass windshield made up of panels connected along metal pins and pipes. It had two seats, with large “saddlebags” mounted along the sides in between each seat.

“This, my civilian cohort, is a YH-33 Model R Support Vehicle, also known as Spider-Bikes. You, me and some of my fellow soldiers will ride this beaut’ to the Comms Facility we’re going to… liberate from the local flavour.” Sunset walked over to a spider-bike with a matching camouflage to her armour, slipping the tall bag she’d been carrying on her back onto the seat to unload olive-green metal cases full of something else made of metal—as told by the sounds of whatever was inside—along with what Twilight assumed were medical kits, as told by the white and green cross on the surface of the cases. The towering four-armed alien—Twilight was told his name was Ferleks—along with another human in oddly cubic armour with an antenna on the left shoulder pauldron, a long triangular piece that sagged down to the upper-arm piece. Both loaded up equipment alongside Sunset, ranging from odd cylindrical canisters marked with hazard or explosive symbols to medical cases and what Twilight assumed were bags of food and drums of water. Sunset hopped onto the front seat and turned the bike on, causing its engine to let out an odd rumble-purr followed by the thing standing upright.

“Hop on, strap in, we’re moving. Once we get there, you stay behind me, Ferleks or Ismael. I don’t want you getting shot.” Sunset eased the bike forward, each motourised leg whirring quietly. Designated slots and buckles in the chassis allowed them to keep their legs from interfering with the bike’s legs. The heavy door at the end of the garage creaked aloud as it opened, with the other Spider-bike and the massive spider-tank began to trot out. The sandstorm had lessened significantly, with only a hot wind and a fog-like covering about a hundred meters around left as a reminder. The bikes began sprinting down a wide dirt road, trailing stray dust behind them, with the tank close on their treads as they passed the many buildings and fortifications. The front gate was a pair of electrified fences on a sliding bar, with trenches and foxholes full of fatigued guardsmen along the outside of the outer walls. Their travels sent them Northeast; past a long concrete wall and into a semi-arid savanna region.

Ruins of the occasional town of small, one-story one or two room buildings came and went. Salt-beds from lakes long dried up dotted the sides of the long, winding road once the massive concrete wall separating them from the city that had started Twilight’s journey was far behind them. Military checkpoints from local militia and freedom fighters dotted the road—however their walker-vehicles were capable of easily mantling them without issue, often being a set of short Alaska-Barriers and some shipping crates surrounded by gravel-filled metal-wire/cloth bastions or concrete Bremer walls. Eventually, their small convoy of armoured vehicles went offroad, arriving outside a long, horizon-spanning fence made of concertina razour-wire, tires, wood paneling, wire fences and short walls made of concrete blocks and bricks.

Off to the left, there was a tall sky-scraping radio tower littered with dishes and dimmed lights that have been left off for years. There was another tower like it, mirrored from it far off to the right. Down the middle, the tops of maybe hundreds of smaller towers and what was assumed to be a generator compound barely poked over the crest of a wide hill.

“Alright. Charlie, you take the facility on the left—marking it.” Beldad called out from inside the hulking walker-tank. A diamond-shaped blip appeared on Sunset’s Heads-Up-Display, marked TARGET C. She lit a green acknowledgement light and had the Light-reconnaissance-vehicle bounding across the hill.

The target complex was massive—a huge concrete fortress with towering walls. The sky-scraping radio tower’s shadow loomed over them even from their position. A series of trenches had been dug, cascading down the hill along the front gate, with concrete pillboxes, razour-wire and tire fortifications lining the road up to the huge, rust-coloured steel gate.

Sunset activated the Energy-Shielding unit on the bike, causing a dome-like bubble to form around the entire bike, from a place within the chassis. A bar indicating the health of the shield spanned the front windshield, with a second shield-meter appearing on Sunset’s HUD.

“Drone-feed came back—we’re dealing with mostly run-of-the-mill bandits with a fetish for gas masks and using scavenged bits and pieces from old KAVACHA-II.2 prototype suits as armour, however there are only two or three with full suits is the guess, considering how old that shit’s gotta be and how they probably got the stuff.” Ismael remarked over their short-ranged Comm-line. He received acknowledgement lights in response. Sunset’s neural-connection proved to assist in the split-second responses required once they were spotted.

THUMP! Fssssshhhsssshhhhssshhhh…

Soon enough, the constant drone of automatic weapons fire was assaulting their hearing through muffled speakers. The Spider-Bike ducked and dove through the large-caliber rifle rounds and big machine gun bullets, its shield meter growing red from overworking. In a matter of seconds, they’d cut the distance to the defending force in half, with roughly two-thirds of their energy-shield remaining, becoming a less-than-acceptable dim yellow contrasting the vibrant aqua-mint green colour that it had started with. Sunset’s ears recognised the all-too-familiar sound of mortar shells and kicked the bike into overdrive.

“MORTAR! Someone, get me a read on those shells!” Sunset called out, narrowly flipping the bike to the side to avoid the flames of a Molotov Cocktail.

Her HUD was lit up with a warning and the bike shot forward from a quick use of the surplus propulsion fuel in the engine.

Thnk—KABOOM!

The heat of the explosion swept over the backs of the riders as the Incendiary/High-Explosive shell lit up their world in a brilliant fireball that left splashes of oil and napalm bouncing off the previously invisible dome-shield of the bike, now alight with flickering hexagons. The shield meter had gone down further, a flickering red with an orange warning box in the middle. The loud creaking of strained metal and obnoxious whirr of the shield-generator nearly drowned out the sound of battle. Sunset readied the bike, and leapt over the first set of entrenched bandits, right as the shield generator gave out, ejecting searing hit out the bottom of the vehicle. Ismael and Ferleks quickly let loose, rifles and sidearms ablaze with suppressive fire as the bike jumped from foxhole to trench to bunker then back to another foxhole. The outer wall loomed over them; easily ten meters high. Sunset engaged the maglocks on the treads along with the climbing spikes built in between each tread.

The forelegs of the bike latched onto the wall, climbing spikes digging into the concrete whilst the intense maglocks did their job of holding the treads close to the rebar that held the concrete together. The mid and rear legs followed, and soon the LRV became a fast treaded vehicle, quickly shooting up the side of the wall and mantling it with ease, revealing the complex—which itself was massive, maybe a kilometer in width and length.

The light-vehicle went into a mad dash across the courtyard, barreling through munitions, bandits and other vehicles. Sunset undid her buckles and waited until its speed had lowered to a suitable amount, and leapt off, rolling with the force to slow herself down and minimalize damage. She cradled her BCR48 within her arms and ducked behind a tall crate as small-calibre rifle and pistol rounds came barreling downrange. She used her neural link to park the bike and camouflage itself with a built-in Active-Camo unit. Ismael and Ferleks dismounted whilst Twi and Spike stayed hidden in the bike’s camouflage field. The two super-soldiers armed themselves with secondary weapons stored within the saddlebags and were soon hidden in cover parallel to Sunset.

“I’m counting thirty hostiles, one fully-armoured asshole closest to us with a 20mm automatic. He’s hooked up to a portable generator on a cart behind him and has supporting legs to keep himself from snapping in half from recoil. Shimmer! To your left!” Ismael called out to Sunset. She spun around in time to find cover behind a thick metal plate. A bandit, decked out in a massive suit of heavy, rusty armour with an engine mounted in the back-plates louder than a fighter-jet’s, stepped into the courtyard from a small garage nearby. His helmet had a long, flickering cyan visor with a litany of cracks and holes along the surface, with a bulbous, basic design to the entire eight-foot tall suited man. In his arms was a massive nine-barreled electrically-powered MA20-X minigun, hooked to a massive backpack on his back and a cart with a portable generator and more ammo trailing behind him.

Vvvvrrrrrr—BRRRRRRRRMMMMM!!

The 20mm—likely HE or AP—rounds bore deep depressions into the cover, chipping off corners and making a mess. Sunset waited for the hulking weapon to spin down before removing an EMP grenade from her belt. She primed the ignition key and pulled the pin, waiting three seconds before lobbing the thing at his feet. His weapon began to spin up, ready to tear dog-sized holes into Sunset.

FSSSHHHHHH—CRACKLE, WHIRRRRRrrrrr…

The blood-curdling screams and spine-tingling sound of snapping bones filled the air for a moment as the bandit crumpled into a heap. Without the electrical power to keep the suit online, his unaugmented body was unable to handle the weight or pressure of the bulky suit of metal.

Sunset rolled out of cover and dispatched two bandits still staring in awe and fear at their fallen comrade with a few short bursts, popping back into cover as the rest of the bandits focused on her.

“More are coming. Create a distraction and retreat into the main compound—I’ll breach the door with my F66.” Sunset ordered, slipping her rifle over her shoulder in exchange for the heavy-barreled four-gauge death dealer. The Tore der Hölle Belagerungskanone F66 Pump-Action Shotgun, or “Kampfshrotflinte” as it was known, was the standard shotgun for the VFMMC, due to its effectiveness at making things not exist after being shot with it. She loaded in a slug, followed by two incendiary-buckshot shells. Ferleks and Ismael began lobbing White Phosphorous grenades into crowds of bandits, blanketing the outer courtyard in a thick white fog of burning smoke. Ismael led Twilight over to the main doors, where Sunset stood ready with her body braced to fire the massive shotgun in her arms, with its barrel nearly as tall as she was.

Ismael and Ferleks got on either side of the door. There was a mutual feeling of readiness before Sunset pulled the trigger. Even with layers of speakers and noise-filtrating material, her ears rang as if someone had fired off a forty-five right beside her ear. The handle on the door and the frame around the door within six inches all around was just gone. Sunset kicked the door in, and the three quickly funneled in.

The main room was large and empty, with dust and sand gathering at the edge of every surface. There were a few crates stacked up off in the back beside a wide door. The sound of the weapon going off had scared a trio of unarmoured bandits in trench coats and leather jackets sitting at a green folding table, playing cards with Kalash rifles standing against one another nearby. Ferleks fired off four rounds from the sidearms in his smaller set of arms, dispatching two bandits, whilst Ismael took out the third with his precision rifle; a Vanguard Federal Armouries Precision-Tactical-Rifle Model-77 chambered in 7.92x30mm Federal rounds. The suppressor built into the barrel allowed him to fire it indoors without forcing everyone inside to go deaf.

Sunset slung her shotgun in exchange for her BCR48, trotting into the next room with her squad-mates in tow. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the low-light and she fired three bursts into a pair of bandits with kalashes. The room contained computer equipment and shelves lined with radio parts and other junk. She kicked in the door to the next room and was promptly knocked onto her ass by an eight-gauge shell that ripped apart her pauldron; millimeters away from taking her entire shoulder with it. Ismael and Ferleks supported and gunned down the bandit who had fired the shot; a short man in leathers, with a breastplate, pauldron and set of greaves slapped on over his leather trench coat in an impromptu manner using netting, webbing and duct tape. Ferleks held out a hand and pulled Sunset up onto her feet.

They would repeat processes like this for hours; breach, clear, repeat. Breach, clear, repeat until there was not a soul left in the facility except them. Standing in the atrium of the building, a massive open room with an endless supply of radio equipment and computers, with the massive radio tower being set up on a mobile platform that could be lowered to adjust or repair the behemoth of metal.

“That’s a huge bitch.” Ismael remarked, slipping his bucket off to light a cigarette, placing his rifle against a wheeled computer-tower.

“Yes… Yes, it is… Now we gotta activate it. Hail NAVCOM and gun down those fuckin’ alien assholes.” Sunset replied, slipping her own helmet off. She leaned over what seemed to be a central terminal among the literal maze of six-meter high computer towers and communication equipment. The panel along the terminal had many knobs, switches and buttons, none of which had power. She looked around and found that only the lights and a few terminals had power.

“Ismael, get over here and look at this, you know more about this shit than I do.” Sunset backed off and allowed the private to walk over and access the terminal.

“Well, Sarge… it seems that the dumbasses trying to run this place rerouted power to several different conduits around the base—like that little garage that the fucker with the gun came out of, so that they could charge those generators for their little juggernauts. We just need to shut the conduits down and from there manually route the power back to this central chamber.” Ismael explained. Sunset scoffed.

“Sounds pretty painstaking for a communications outpost.” Ferleks retorted, patting down a nearby bandit corpse.

“I thought the same thing… maybe the answers lie within one of these terminals, there’s bound to be some old audio recordings lying about.” Ismael said in reply.

“Ferleks and I will go deal with those conduits and grab Twi, just clean up the bodies and keep us posted on any new information.” Ismael flashed a green light in response. Ferleks stood up, tossing his haul of salvage into a pouch on his hip before shouldering his rifle, a bulbous-plated energy weapon with three cylindrical green plasma tubes on either side of the receiver, pointing downward at a 45-degree angle. Sunset slung her BCR48 and wandered out with Ferleks at her side, the duo stopping at the front door. Sunset slipped her helmet on and primed a White Phosphorous smoke grenade.

“Be ready.” She warned Ferleks, tossing her rifle over her back in exchange for her rechambered 10mm M2256. Higher ammo capacity magazines and faster bullets. She pulled the pin and kicked the front door out, chucking the grenade into a crowding of bandits by the outer gate. She brought her pistol up and shot two more bandits standing parallel to the door.

They had removed most of the cover from around the entrance, establishing makeshift sandbag fortifications along the outer gate to fire on the compound, with a nest sporting a tripod-mounted machine gun, a long-barreled weapon surrounded by a shield from the bottom of the tripod to a foot above the gun. Sunset assumed the model and zipped to the left toward the husk of a heavy troop transport.

“Get a smokescreen on that machine gun!” She called out to her compatriot as Armour-Piercing 8.5x23mm rounds came barreling downrange into the thick casing of the transport. The titanium-composite outer shell of the carriage prevented most of the rounds from hitting Sunset, however the weaker cabin became shredded like Swiss cheese. Ferleks dove to the right and drew the MG’s fire by chucking a fragmentation grenade into the pit and lighting up the shield with plasma bolts from his rifle. The melted bolts were fast, weak but burned hot, quickly making work of the shield and barrel, causing the rounds to heat up and prematurely detonate, causing the bandit holding the machine gun to suddenly not have hands, or a face. The frag was thrown out of the nest, detonating in the air above them, sending shrapnel rain down onto them and causing them to stumble long enough for Ferleks to pop off another burst of plasma, causing whatever bandits remaining to crumple to the ground, with holes in their chests. More took their place, mantling the makeshift fortifications behind the nest to replace the gun, gunner and push forward.

Sunset moved back toward the conduit building, slipping under the half-shut garage door and into the 15x15 room. Tools, weapon pieces and scrap lined tables and filled up lidless crates around the room. At the back was a tarped machine that was floor-to-ceiling, the tarp bolted to the floor by hooks to cover up the entire machine, save for a pair of hoses, one leaking a bright fluorescent fuel that Sunset knew far too well. She slipped her M-TUCK from her thigh and quickly snapped the cable holding the tarp down and ripped it off.

The conduit was a tall black tube with a few sets of electrical panels, at least a half dozen different hoses connected to separate fuel lines. Sunset picked up the two hoses on the floor and slipped them back into their outlets. She used the pry-bar attachment at the ass of her knife’s grip, popping open the primary electrical panel, snipping a few wires here and there. The steady, constant hum of the machine died as the power and flow of fuel shut off. “I’ve cut off power to one of the conduits.” Sunset reported.

“Alright, rerouting power… We’ve got something. Shut down two more conduits and we should have enough power going to the main terminal to get a message out.” Ismael replied.

“Ferleks here. We’ve got an APC rolling up… Fifty Mike-Mike and a few 7.78’s.” Ferleks hailed over the comm-line.

“Go ‘round the compound and take out the Conduit over there, I’ll distract the ass.” Sunset replied. She slipped an incendiary grenade off her belt and moved up behind a crate. The APC—a massive vehicle with a 50mm cannon mounted at the back and a plethora of 7.78mm machine gun barrels sticking out of slits in the armour. The entire thing was loaded with rust and looked just about ready to collapse. Sunset switched the grenade out for a few sticks of thermite and a frag, using a bundle of survival cable to make an impromptu breaching charge, one that she would fasten over the engine to take out the cannibalized hunk of scrap.

“Fuckin’ Anny!” She yelled before dashing to the left. The 50mm creaked as it turned to the stack of crates she’d been hiding behind; firing a single High-Explosive shell at them, sending debris and shrapnel flying everywhere. Sunset ducked behind a stack of tires as the APC rumbled past toward the smoldering debris of the crates. There was maybe six meters between her and the vehicle. She checked the magazine of her M2256, let a silent prayer go unheard, then hauled ass, ducking under sudden machine gun fire. She slipped footing, quickly diverting into a dive, sliding across the ground and under the APC. Time seemed to slow.

Sunset smashed the thermite charge into a nice bundle of pipes and lit the fuse using the gas discharge from her pistol, the bullet striking the rusted, rotted casing to the breaks, shattering it. In an instant, Sunset was on her feet dive-rolling behind a pile of scrap and debris.

A fireball exploded out of every orifice on the APC. The light-tank-esque vehicle rolled across the courtyard as the fuel tank fueled the blaze, slamming into one of the weaker outer walls, causing it to crumble and shatter around the burning wreck.

“Ass down. Ferleks, what’s the status of that second conduit?” Sunset asked, standing up from her position.

“Nearly… done. Ismael, did it work?” Ferleks replied. Ismael lit a green acknowledgement light. The bandits had retreated behind the gate and through the lingering clouds of slow-burning White-Phosphorous smoke. Sunset jogged over to the spider-bike, decloaking it. Twilight lowered herself down and shivered. Sunset reached out to place a hand on her shoulder—

SWIIISH—CRASH!

Sunset went flying back, her body slamming straight into a metal beam. Her HUD lit up and warned her of two broken ribs, however she ignored it, weakly standing up to face whatever had just thrown her.

The bandit before her was massive, with shoulders nearly as wide as the bike, surpassing what could be considered human—overdosing on growth hormones, steroids and augmentation drugs were the cause, as told by the various context clues—miscoloured, pale skin, twitchiness. The bandit’s face was hidden behind a KAVACHA helmet, with its body covered in welded-together, cannibalized suits of Kavacha II.2 and plating off an armoured car. The shoulder pauldrons sported large foreboding spikes for shoulder charging, with manually welded meat-tenderising metal bricks on the forearms and knuckles.

“Holy shit, that’s a big asshole.” Sunset sputtered, coughing up blood onto the corners of her visour.

“Watch out, he’s packing a 13mm.” Ferleks warned. A plasma bolt struck the behemoth’s shoulder, causing it to roar and spin to face whatever had shot it, distracted long enough for Sunset to charge up and drop-kick it in the spine, to little effect.

The beast turned around in a blink, sending Sunset flying back into a truck chassis. Her HUD warned her of a ruptured spleen. She groaned and sat up as her suit began patching up the internal bleeding with medical foaming compound. The behemoth charged at Sunset. She tried to sit up, so she could put a few 10x23mm rounds into the massive wall of meat, only to find her prosthesis sporting a massive blade of metal splitting it in half. She weakly stared forward and defiantly spat blood one last time—

Fwooosh! BAM!

Sunset looked up to find a massive purple dome of pure energy surrounding her. The behemoth was screaming and pounding his meaty fists into it, to no avail.

“Medical anomaly detected.” Sunset found her vision locking onto the small screen in the corner of her vision that detailed her injuries—or rather the fact that the list was suddenly dwindling. Sunset reached into the CLS kit on her thigh with a weak hand, slipping a gray and yellow shot out, using her mouth to pop off the cap. She slammed it into her thigh and pressed the plunger in. With a newborn strength, she tore her arm from the jagged edge of metal, allowing her KAVACHA-VI’s suit to begin sending nanobots to the damaged area. She took a quick glance at the spike, a jutting piece of the truck’s axle, then back at the behemoth. An idea fresh in her mind, Sunset took up a readied stance. The shield was littered with cracks and the behemoth stepped back, then sprinted right through the shield. It shattered like glass, and the beast stumbled. Sunset’s speed far surpassed the massive sub-human’s, and she quickly got behind it and repeated her drop-kick action, knocking it forward.

WHOOOOOSH—SHLCK! —WHUMP.

Sunset stood up, grunting. The beast had fallen forward, face-first into the spike, breaking the warped helmet’s visour and making a shish kebab out of its skull.

“S-Sunset…” Twilight limped up to the Master Gunnery Sergeant. She glanced back at Twi before turning to face her fully. The girl had a steady stream of blood leaking from her left nostril. Neither of them said anything for a while.

“… and here I thought bringing you was a mistake.” Sunset removed her helmet, wiping some blood from her lip and spitting some onto the concrete. Twilight flinched visibly.

“C’mon, grab your dog, we’re reinforcing the front door and hunkering down.” With the bandits fallen back to friendly lines, Charlie regrouped. Ferleks and Sunset broke down the last Conduit, and the duo met with Twilight and Ismael in the main atrium, which was illuminated in bright blue and golden lights, the steady whirring and humming of the equipment providing a sense of calm needed after such a firefight. Ismael cleared his throat and keyed a button, causing a mic to slide out from behind a panel.

“This is the tower-field crew, we’re green to go.” Beldad sang from inside his Spider-Tank.

“Facility Two, we are ready when you are, Carballar.” Oleksij’s voice rang out in their ears.

“This is Private Ismael Carballar of the Vanguard Federal Military Marine Corps, this is an emergency broadcast, hailing any and all Vanguard Federal Military Personnel, the VNC Thames has been grounded and we are experiencing invasion—I repeat, we are being invaded by an alien force, I repeat. Battle-group Delta-470 has been attacked by a hostile alien force and has suffered casualties outside the orbit of Eiter-VI. Requesting immediate aid.” Ismael transmitted. There was only silence.

“I suppose now we wait—” Ismael was cut off as the radio screamed with activity.

“We hear you loud and clear, private, this is Lieutenant Commander David Persson of NAVCOM. We are dispatching Battle-group Sierra-120 to assist, standby.” Sunset whooped and the relief that washed over the trio was nigh believable. The group dissipated to celebrate. Sunset allowed herself to slump back and sigh with relief. She was sore—more so than normal that is. The aches of lactic acids in the muscles and recently-patched up or healed wounds swirled together to create a frustrating feeling that chilled Sunset. She walked over to the woman in question who allowed her to heal in the first place and survive this encounter.

“You doin’ alright?” Sunset asked the zoned-out civilian escort, who was staring at a few drops of blood and a rusted nail that sat on the floor. She shook her head clear of thoughts and turned to Sunset.

“Huh—? Oh, sorry, I spaced out, what was that?” Twilight replied. Sunset took in a deep breath.

“I said… Are you alright? You’re not all there and this is probably the first time you’ve… y’know.” Sunset reiterated, causing Twilight’s expression to drop. The civilian slumped down to the floor and pressed her face into her hands. Sunset soon joined her.

“It was him or me. If you didn’t help me out, he would’ve killed me, then you, then anyone else who got in the way. You’re smart—you realized that, and you acted. I can count on one hand how many people I know with that sort of instinct. I respect that.” Sunset placed an apologetic hand on the girl’s shoulder. Twi soon began sobbing into her hands.

“It… He was someone. I haven’t… I’ve only seen something that gruesome once, and I remember it as if it happened a day ago because it just kept replaying it my head when I was asleep…” Sunset moved over and supported Twilight as she began working through her troubles, leading her down the hall into one of the bunkrooms, thankfully empty and devoid of blood or any bodies.

“… and I opened the locker, and there, lying in a huge-ass pile at the bottom of it, all of it having leaked down from the top shelf, was just sugar—and I looked back and he had this expression of utter horror on his face. All I remember was him holding up three fingers before I was out! God, he whooped our ass I can still feel it whenever I just as much look at anything with any amount of sugar in it!” With Sunset’s anecdote finished, Twilight and Ismael soon began to giggle and snicker respectively. Ferleks only let out a snort of air and leaned back. The four of them sat around a circular table in the bunkroom, a few empty bottles of bourbon and scotch scattered across the table beside many small rectangular bronze chips and playing cards. With their super-powered livers, the two humans were able to finish off the bottles quickly without as much as a bit of tipsiness and flush to the cheeks. Twilight, with her normal human liver and already poor alcohol tolerance, was at that point after a single glass. For the betterment of them all, Ferleks had cut Twi off and now had the rest cut off, the alcohol stashed in a nearby locker.

“How ‘bout you, Miss Sparkle? You got any stories to tell from the whimsical land of rainbows and unicorns?” Ismael teased, elbowing her side. Twilight tensed herself for a solid minute before realizing he was joking, then laughed along with him.

“Y-Yeah. I’ve had… plenty of adventures with my friends. They’re good… people.” Twilight told them of all the exploits of her and her allies—with a bit of censoring and editing to the finer details. It led to some chuckles from the humans and a few laughs from the Eliksni vandal. Sunset stood up and stretched.

“I’m going to take a jog, keep the comm-line open in case.” She slipped her helmet on. Twilight wobbled and stood up, stumbling a bit.

“I’m coming too!” She declared, hands on hips. This elicited more than a few laughs as Sunset and Twilight left, Sunset performing basic weapons-check as they walked—clearing the chamber, checking the different mechanisms, the sort, Twilight tailing her, fiddling with her fingers and mumbling about fine motour skills unlike that she’d ever known. A distant buzzing drew Sunset’s attention as she climbed the height of the outer wall via a staircase in a watchtower. She jogged up a few more flights and slipped through a door onto the outer wall, with railing on either side, a heavy .63 large-calibre drum-fed Automatische Squad-Unterstützungswaffe mounted onto the outer railing, with a secondary smart-bipod—one which folded and unfolded with the position of the gun so that it had more range of motion—mounted on the stock. Sunset activated her helmet’s magnification and zoomed in on a large dark object approaching from the front.

Sunset identified it quickly, and was at the .63-MG even quicker, pulling the charging hammer back to slide a 16x53mm machine gun round into the chamber.

“Twilight, get back.” Sunset ordered, centering the aperture on the Horde-monster, which she aptly nicknamed.

“Get ready, we’ve got Horde inbound!” Sunset called over the comm, getting acknowledgement lights across the board. She depressed the grip safety and eased into the trigger, bracing as a stream of nigh-molten bullets began spewing from the barrel of the machine gun, cracking like constant thunder and lightning in her ears. The rounds began shredding into the chitinous outer plates of the hideous bug-creature, soon ripping up one of the massive insectoid wings allowing it to hover, causing it to corkscrew into a nearby shack. More soon materialized from seemingly nowhere and everywhere.

“Full on invasion force… I’ll bite, asshole.” Sunset continued to lay down fire, but for every three she turned into a gory mist, nine more appeared from the horizon. Soon enough, she couldn’t both cover the air and the ground and was forced to prioritize targets, allowing the sneakier ones to take up firing positions in her blindspots. Sunset was quick to notice the massive blue orb cutting through the air toward her, dismounting from the .63 just in time to avoid being turned into molten goo, the entire weapon simply not existing anymore, the shockwave knocking both Sunset and Twilight back. An ear-piercing, grating battle-cry lanced pain through Sunset’s ears and she turned down her exterior speakers to the very minimum.

Sunset threw her legs up and tossed her weight into them, allowing herself to jump forward onto two legs, her rifle slipping into her arms, blasting holes into the bottom of a horde-monster. She spun around to find Twilight already waiting for her, holding the watchtower door open. Sunset sprinted inside and down the stairs, slapping another forty-round mag into the mag-well of her BCR.

“Shit—this is Beldad, what the fuck are these things?!” the sergeant called over the radio, Sunset taking it upon herself to reply.

“Whatever they are, they belong to the same assholes who knocked the Thames out of the air. Use incendiaries and keep the big ones suppressed—if you’ve got the new models, rechamber to .458, if you’ve got the older ones and extra barrels, do the same—they’re armoured like buggy tanks, retaliate in kind. 80mm shells rip through ‘em like paper!” Sunset explained, going off what she had learned from her brief encounter with the monstrosities. She kicked out the next door and began sweeping, shooting any of the Horde that came close. The Monsters began to drop off more of the grunts and the bug-people, who seemed to be attacking the radio tower…

“Defend the radio towers! They’re trying to cut off our comms!” Sunset placed a well-aimed burst into the chest of a Horde and slammed her M-TUCK into the neck of a nearby Grunt. Twilight looked at her hands once before casting a large glowing bolt of purple magic that concussed a grunt, sending it flying back into a crate. Sunset spun to face Twilight.

“I’m going to go on a hunch here and say whatever the hell powers you’ve got extend to me—how did you activate them?!” Sunset asked. Twilight closed her eyes and began thinking before quickly ducking under a plasma bolt.

“Um! Focus on your core and your very soul and… uh, imagine yourself pulling power from it!” Twilight yelled over the crack-crack-cracks of gunfire and screams of Horde. Sunset lobbed an incendiary at a Horde-Monster, setting it alight. She focused on her core and tried to imagine herself pulling power from her soul. She held her hand out and flicked her wrist—nothing. She tried again, and again and again, with the same results. ‘Don’t got time for this’ she thought, tossing a frag into a crowd of Horde. She moved Twilight into the building, shoving lockers and crates in front of the door. Sunset kept motioning her forward, and entered the main atrium, where Ismael was desperately keying different buttons and hailing home base.

“We need artillery support on our position, latitude coordinate…” Sunset turned to find Ferleks backing out of the bunkroom, firing off his zappy plasma pistols—zap-pistols if you will. Horde after Horde came crashing forward through a breach, all armed with thrashing claws and razour-teeth, slashing and chomping at the vandal, only to find Ferleks reloading faster and shooting more rounds than they could Horde in, soon a wall of corpses was piled up. Ferleks grabbed a canister of plastic explosives from his hip-pouch and nestled it between a pair of corpses.

“If we don’t get support, we don’t let them capture this facility. We take the bike, get out of range and blow it sky-high.” Ferleks explained. A stray plasma bolt came zooming in, blasting through Ferlek’s right knee, causing him to cry out and fall onto his back, firing wildly at the direction of the bolt.

“Oh—shit!” Sunset slid into a kneel beside Ferleks, helping him up. Twilight was staring in horror at the severed leg, however Ferleks drew her attention by laughing.

“Don’t worry—they grow back.” He joked, hissing as Sunset sat him on a chair in the corner at the end of a hallway. “Don’t die, asshole.” She hissed at him before shouldering her rifle. She led Twi back into the atrium with Ismael and Spike, who was standing guard by the door, ready to bite ankles to protect those around. Twilight only smiled at this before picking him up and slipping him into his backpack to keep him out of harm’s way, sliding the backpack between a pair of lockers by the main terminal that Ismael was using.

“Alright… we’re shelling the fuckers—using Phosphorous and incendiary shells to flush them out, this place should hold if they stop blowing holes into the outer rooms.” The massive radio tower groaned before the platform it stood on lowered into the floor, the ceiling hatch closing shut into an airtight seal.

“That solves that.” Ismael remarked, grabbing his precision rifle. Sunset shut the door from the left-side corridor into the atrium and dropped a locker in front of it to keep it shut, whilst Ferleks slid one in front of the inward-swinging door, hiding the frame entirely.

“Let’s hope they’re that stupid.” He commented before shutting the door and toppling a desk and filing cabinet in front of it as extra protection.

“So… what now? We’re like fish-in-a-barrel here and I don’t like it.” Sunset declared, pacing whilst checking her rifle.

“We wait. The pieces will take an hour to get in position, and after that the delay between shells will be minimal and we’ll be able to reinforce the position and let trenchies take over.” Ismael explained. Sunset nodded and leaned up against a nearby wall, keeping her finger hovering over the trigger-guard.

And so, they waited, poised to defend against the Horde that wished to rend them limb-from-limb. Hours passed. Horde would seep in through holes in the roof and walls, with the three soldiers gunning each one down with ease, their civilian escort providing aid with concussion bolts and shields when needed, whilst Sunset found herself aching for a fight that didn’t involve her sitting behind a basic fortification of sandbags and a metal desk, shooting whatever came into their killbox, however she held firm.

Whiiiissssstttleee—BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!

Artillery shells pounded the courtyard and cut through the weak Horde with ease, using fire to melt them, explosives to turn them into piles of gore and WP to burn them away.

“Took them long enough…” Sunset muttered. She ordered Twi to cast a shield over them, and they walked out into the courtyard, avoiding the majour patches of smoke and fire. Ferleks, Ismael and Spike were loaded into the spider-bike, when suddenly—

WHOOOOSH! THUMP.

A tall creature on par with a Grunt in height, but built like a character from JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure, stood before them. He wore an odd tunic lined with rune-like symbols, carrying a handheld-crossbow shaped plasma-bolter in one hand, with a shortsword in the other.

“You have defied Lord Orruth for the last time, heretics! Face the wrath of his Grand Champion, Stoxol!” The creature charged, swinging his blade. Sunset tossed her rifle into a saddlebag in exchange for her F66, fingering a slug into the chamber. She pumped the weapon and fired a single shell. The slug tore through the air and ripped a basketball-sized hole into its abdomen, causing the being to stagger. Sunset recoiled slightly when Stoxol began to laugh, more so when his abdominal wound began to seal. He lunged and knocked Sunset into a nearby crate, causing her to sputter and cough as she hit the floor. He loomed over her, ready to cast her into the Eternal Depths via plunging his sword into her, when a purple bolt struck his shoulder, causing a spasm. He spun to face the sender, Twilight, standing firm with her hands out, charging up a second bolt. He raised his plasma bolter and fired once. She loosed her bolt of magical energy.

Her magical round sailed true, causing the plasma bolt to ricochet and fly right through Twilight’s knee, causing her to scream in pain and crumple onto her back as her leg split apart from the joint. Sunset felt rage boiling in her heart and noticed a burst of energy in her chest.

Stoxol stood over Twilight, watching the fear in her eyes with pleasure as he aimed the bolter at centre mass, ready to cut a nicely sized hole into her chest.

“HEY ASSHOLE!” He spun around in time to widen his eyes as a javelin of molten steel blasted through his chest and sent him sprawling on his knees. Sunset shuffled over, hissing as she felt the searing pain in her abdomen from internal bleeding. Stoxol reached up to grab Sunset’s throat. She caught his hand, burning his wrist within her grip, causing him to cry out and crumple down, hanging from his seared wrist. Sunset grabbed the back of his neck with her other hand and pulled his face up to her visor. He growled and spat at her. She returned the gesture with three headbutts, each carving a divot into his face.

“Remember this face when you go back to your boss, asshole.” Sunset placed her palm against his face, causing him to scream, the smell of burning flesh poisoning the air. Stoxol lost consciousness, and Sunset threw him to the floor. She stumbled a few feet before collapsing to the ground.

She glanced up, her vision blinded by a bright flash of light. The flash died, and Sunset noticed that her surroundings were made of darkness. Ahead, a hand made of pure light reached toward her.

“Come home, Sunset.”

Author's Note

Fun fact, the planner for this chapter was exactly 10 times as small as the final draft.