Green Sun: Anthology

Kane Lives in Death

He had never been the most imposing of griffons, and his armor always felt a bit comical on his relatively light frame. The pawprints of the Black Hand however, always felt right etched on his pauldrons, and in the medallion that he wore around his neck. During the war he had been a simple tanker, blessed with helping fight in Baltimare inside a flame tank, and he had even been one of the few to survive the Battle of Temple Prime and escape GDI custody even as Kane's successor, Twilight, fled all those years ago. His dark feathers matched the onyx coloration of his armor, still as protective as it was during the war when it was first issued to him, fresh out of the tiberium-fueled forges of the Brotherhood of Nod. His laser rifle was now more of a decorative piece on the wall behind his desk, but his trusty laser pistol was always at his side. His eyes were a similar coloration as his plumage, and burned with a passion that had endeared him to his former commanding officer, the traitor Hyperion.

The griffon’s skin crawled at the mere thought of that traitor, and how much he sacrificed to gain his favor only for that damnable earth pony to turn his back on the Brotherhood, but that was neither here nor there, Brother Marcion had more important things to attend to.

“The delegation for Saddle Arabia is waiting, sir.” his EVA chimed.

“Very well, inform them that I am on my way.” Marcion replied, his scowl turning to a smile. His former CO may have been a traitor but the lessons imparted on the newly ascended leader of the Black Hand still held true. Using his mentor’s own tactics to frustrate GDI’s unification efforts away from what used to be Equestria was more than enough to put him in a good mood.

Saddle Arabia was always contested ground during the war, even with Hyperion orchestrating the fall of its government and leading to the civil war that plagued it well past the fall of Temple Prime. Even when the lasers and bullets flew between Celestial loyalists and Nod rebels, the entire country and its once-priceless fuel reserves tended to fly both flags at the same time.

Today that was going to change, at least unofficially, as GDI’s efforts on the continent had been hounded by Marcion ever since he slew the heretical dragon that had taken Sister Pinkie Pie’s place as head of the Hand. The Saddle Arabian royal family, or at least what was left of it after a decade of fighting, would finally be throwing their full support behind the Brotherhood. The fact that a significant portion of the bloodshed was caused by Nod troops using old GDI gear to “accidentally” cause collateral damage was something for Marcion alone to know.

Marcion continued his brisk pace to the conference room of his underground stronghold, and while it was not nearly as secure as Temple Prime, it was surely more opulent than that research outpost turned holy site. Black Hand banners lined the hallways of any public passage that foreign diplomats or prisoners would see during transit, and the low, red lighting made the surplus of guards look all the more menacing even in their ceremonial uniforms.

This aesthetic mixed with the reforms in armor design and even to Black Hand doctrine were all part of Marcion’s attempt to paint Kane’s most devout followers in a much more positive light. The fracture caused by Chrysalis and the devastation of the Black Hand at Temple Prime had, at least in the eyes of the survivors, tarnished the reputation of the Brotherhood at large, but none suffered a hit harder than Pinkie Pie’s disciples. Where once there was a force that made GDI infantry cower just at the sound of their name, they were now seen merely as a different, more dogmatic sect of Nod with fancier uniforms than the militia.

“This changes today.” Marcion thought as he finally made his way into the room and gave a graceful bow to the two delegates waiting for him. He recognized the pink mare, Amira, despite how the rough years had aged her. She had once been part of a Saddle Arabian overture to the griffons before the war, back when he was a simple palace guard. The second mare with the blue coat and significantly younger, was new to him, but based on their body language, she was more of an aide rather than an ambassador. Both looked somewhat uncomfortable sitting in the large room with only guards for company, though that was the intention. The entire conference room was made to hold two dozen delegates, their aides, and all necessary security personnel needed to protect them, on top of a massive screen for showing documents or allowing communication with those unable to travel to Marcion’s stronghold.

“My apologies for keeping you both waiting.” Marcion stated with a practiced, diplomatic tone as he took a seat, “I trust the trip here was suitably peaceful.”

“Suitable, yes.” Amira mused, “Though with respect to yourself and your storied organization, I believe that time has made niceties a luxury neither of us can afford.”

“Of course, we shall get down to negotiations at once. Your support of the Black Hand will be invaluab-”

“Of the Brotherhood, not just the Black Hand. Your superior made it crystal clear that we would be supporting the entirety of the Brotherhood of Nod, not just the Black Hand.”

Marcion paused for a moment, confusion clear on his face for a moment before he regained his composure.

“My.. superior.” he said, as if the words being said aloud would make it more clear, “I’m afraid I do not understand, madam ambassador. The Brotherhood fractured with the death of Kane, and Princess Twilight has not been heard of for nearly a decade.”

“I expected GDI would be quick to bury me, but I expected more of the Black Hand.” a stallion’s voice cut in through the conference room’s audio system.

Marcion froze, skin prickling as the tell-tale hum of the view screen slowly coming online. He knew that voice, but it had always been synthesized or a recording, or some hack in GDI pretending to be Him.

The screen finally fully came to life, and Marcion’s blood froze at the sight of a bald earth pony stallion standing between two alicorns. One was clearly Princess Twilight in her signature black lab gear, the regalia of royalty left behind years ago, but the other was… different. She was younger with a light pink coat, but he could see tiberium crystal etching all around her coat from her horn to her hooves. Her cutie mark, obviously a whole depiction of what used to be the Crystal Heart, was tiberium green, matching her eyes. Despite the presence of two goddesses, it was the stallion that kept his attention the most. He had seen the ion strike that hit Temple Prime, his vision was blurry for days afterwards, and the image of the attack had been permanently etched into the griffon’s mind. What he was seeing was impossible.

“Nothing to say, Brother Marcion?”

“You… I…” he sputtered as the Saddle Arabian delegates both glowed green, revealing themselves to be changelings clad in Brotherhood uniforms. Each one with the emblem of the Marked of Kane etched onto the shoulders, and their clearly cybernetic eyes stared down the armored griffon as he prostrated himself before the Messiah.

“I have been loyal, I swear it. The rest of the Brotherhood was scattered, I salvaged what I could, continued the work, never besmirched your na-”

“Yes, I know, my son, I know.” Kane interjected calmly, “And it is for that reason that it is time for you to return to the fold. Rise. The Black Hand is needed once more, my brother, and there is much work to be done.”