In the Name
#7 of My Little Pony: The Aeons of Equestria
Warning : the following dark fanfiction contains... get this. Walking. That's right. Walking. Fucking hardcore... oh, right. There's some bad language and a bit of violence in there too.
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My Little Pony
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Episode 6: In the Name
The chill wind beating him across the barren, rocky landscape caused the human to shiver. It was so bad he'd pulled his gloves from his pockets and could only just about feel the grips of the Krak rifle he carried through the slick wool. The grip didn't feel at all comfortable, but he grinned and bared it.
Rifle cradled in one arm, he used his free hand to hold the power bar he was scoffing down. Marching and eating bars that sank through his gut like solid bricks was a sure recipe for indigestion, but once again, Reno just bared it. He didn't have time to waste. He wanted Rarity and that book back so he could go home.
Home. The word held so many joyous memories. Sitting behind a desk from nine to five, meeting up with boring old human beings on the weekends. He longed for the lack of excitement 'home' had brought him. It was ironic. When he was home he wanted adventure. Now he actually had adventure he wanted to go home.
Reaching the crest of a jagged hill, Reno tossed an empty wrapper over his shoulder and hooked his thumb behind the buckle of his new utility belt. Catching his breath from a two hour hike, Reno slowly scanned his surroundings. Ponyville was about a mile behind him as the crows flew, and still no sign of where the Diamond Dogs were hiding. He'd been hiking in a zigzagging pattern across the jagged badlands overlooking Ponyville, but not even a hint as to where those ogre-hounds were held up.
And it seemed to get worse. The terrain was growing rougher, steeper and more treacherous. Edges of some rocks were worn down into jagged blades of razor sharp ore, and there were cold grey chasms disappearing into dark, deadly falls. Several rough rivers wound through Reno's path, many parts too deep or dangerous to even attempt a crossing.
"Jesus, this just gets better and better." Reno muttered sarcastically to himself. "I had no idea a land of ponies could be so much fun."
With a defeated sigh, Reno heaved his Krak into the crook of his arm and moved on. Had he faced such an impossible situation at home he would have given up and left it to better authorities. Out here in Equestria there was nobody else. If there was somepony else Reno would gladly let the other guy do it, but there wasn't. There was nobody else, so Reno was doing it.
As he moved he gave the gear wrapped comfortably around his waist a pat. To the left of the belt buckle were nine elastic loops holding the brownish red shells loaded with 7.62mm fragmenting bullets that went into the Krak rifle. Hanging on his left hip were two rectangular pouches covered over with Velcro cover flaps, angled ever so slightly so he could reach them with ease. They contained a pair of fully loaded X1 Raider magazines, the rifle for which he'd left at the Ponyville library. As far as he saw it, Reno only had two arms and could only use one rifle at a time.
Along the right side of the belt were four slim pouches with button-down covering flaps, and holstered on his right hip was a pistol. He'd given it a look over earlier, a slide operated number with a comfortable grip moulded to fit both a human hand or the claw of a Diamond Dog, the matte black weapon was reasonably light, and judging from the barrel diameter was a nine-millimetre of some sort. It had an inscription along the side that read 'P226R,' most likely the designated model of the weapon. Finally, around the back of Reno's waist were ration pouches where he had transferred as much of his food and water. His canteen hung over his 'right cheek' and the other pouches were stuffed with mint-cake and power bars. Not exactly all the parts of a balanced diet, but Reno would worry about eating his greens when he got home.
He moved on, some parts forcing him to hang his rifle from the sling and crawl on all fours to scale a steep rock or to slide down a slope of gravel into a gulley between mounds. Panting for breath, feeling the thin Equestria air kicking his ass, Reno managed to clamber up a steep rock face and dragged himself onto a reasonably flat plateau along the foot of a terrifyingly steep mountain. It seemed to jut up at the sky like a massive dagger sticking out of the earth.
However, the plateau seemed to be a heaven among endless landscape of hell. It was almost perfectly rounded against the mountainside, covered in lush green grass. Close to the mountain wall was a tree, a monolith angling away from the cliff-face and reaching up at the air with healthy, leafy branches. Looking up at it as he moved closer, Reno heard a creaking noise of metal on metal.
It didn't take him long to notice a cage hanging from one of the thicker branches. It was a cylindrical black iron model made up of prison cell-like bars, hanging about four feet from the grass below from a chain, and was less than a metre in diameter. Reno kept the muzzle of his weapon trained on the cage as it swayed slightly in a chilly draught. Sitting inside the cage was a figure, a pony... or rather, a donkey.
The creature, easy enough to mistake for a pony had a single significant difference. It was the ears mostly. Long a floppy, almost like bunny ears on a horse, the jack was a steel grey colour with a tail and messy short mane as black as midnight. The end of his wider muzzle was equally blackened, oddly enough like morning stubble. He was clad in a baggy rocky-grey robe, a hood wrapped around his throat like a makeshift scarf.
The jack's legs were hanging out of the side of the cage where he sat, slipped between the bars, and his back was slouched against the inside, head lolled to one side. He wasn't moving.
Poor bastard, Reno thought to himself before another thought crossed his mind. Wait. How many rounds do I have left?
It was a good question that begged to be answered. If he was hunting down the Diamond Dogs he better be prepared to fire on a moment's notice when he found them. How many shots did he fire in Ponyville? Shutting his eyes he slowly counted, then recounted.
Nine?
He knelt by the trunk of the tree and rested the Krak's stock on the ground. Undoing the catch near the trigger-guard, Reno tugged loose the magazine and looked inside. Empty. He quickly turned the weapon over and yanked back the charging-lever. The bolt slid open with a click...
Also empty.
"You fucking idiot, Reno!" the human cried at himself. If it had been a Diamond Dog instead of a grenade popping out of that last mound in Ponyville he would have been dead anyway.
Resting the rifle against the tree he pulled one of the spare shells from his utility belt and went to load up the empty magazine...
"Y'know, that would be easier with a speed-loader." A voice suddenly said.
Crying out, Reno dropped the shell and the magazine in the dirt. Jumping back a step, the human was on his feet in a second, his hands moving like lightening. By the time he'd straightened up, one hand rested on his stomach, the other was closed around the grip of his sidearm. His thumb quickly flicked loose the catch holding down the P226R.
The weapon cleared the holster and was pointed at the cage in both hands in less than a split second. It was only after he was aiming the weapon that Reno wasted time, thumb shuddering on the safety catch. In fact, Reno's whole body was shaking with fear. Slowly he lowered his hands and looked down at the pistol.
What the hell had that been? He'd never in his whole life even drawn a pistol, never mind quick-drawn in such a flash. How did he do that? What was going on?
Reno gradually looked up at where the voice had come from. The donkey hadn't been dead after all, just sleeping. He was sitting up, watching Reno with his hands closed around the cold bars of his cramped cell.
"Are you okay?" the donkey asked with a frown.
Reno didn't answer, realising the donkey was locked up tight with locks and chains, and wasn't going anywhere. In his own time, the human tucked away his sidearm, secured the clip holding it down and dropped to his knee again.
He retrieved the shell and magazine he'd dropped, shook the dirt of the mag and blew the dust from the shell's firing cap before he loaded it in place. Methodically he pulled shells one by one from his belt and slotted them into the magazine. As soon as all nine shells were loaded and the magazine was full, Reno slapped it into the Krak's receiver and yanked the bolt back. The weapon was readied with a satisfying 'clack.'
"I'm Lay Brother Cutter." The donkey suddenly said, reaching out to shake Reno's hand through the bar. Reno merely stood with his rifle slung, unmoving.
The donkey wasn't like any imprisoned person Reno could imagine. He imagined anyone in 'Cutter's position would start off begging for freedom, not by politely introducing himself.
"Lay Brother?" Reno asked simply. "You're a monk?"
"From the northern pass monastery, yes." His hand hung limply over the bars of his cage now, realising Reno wasn't going to shake it. "I was... err... let go from the brotherhood."
"You were given the boot." The human said.
"In technical terms... yes." Cutter chuckled and leaned back. "But what about you? What brings such a prestigious Shadow Legion officer all the way out here?"
Reno took a step forward, spitting dangerously. "I am not Shadow Legion!"
"Of course not, general." Cutter said with a broad smile, hands resting behind his head in a relaxed fashion. "But regardless of who you say; or think, you are, what brings you out here?"
"The Diamond Dogs took something of mine. I'm here to get it back." Reno explained. No need to go into detail, in rough terms that was the gist of it.
"Ah, yes. The mutts who are so hard for anything shiny. I've run into them." Cutter almost boasted before his tone went noticeably dull. "I actually killed one of their diamond finders. It was an accident of course, but not that it made them less unforgiving." He shrugged.
Reno squinted suspiciously. "I'd bet." Diamond Dogs didn't seem the forgiving sort.
"Bastards completely swamped me." The donkey gave the cage a punch, locks rattling noisily on the chains. "And ponies say I'm an ass."
"So you could tell me where the Diamond Dogs are." Reno said ignoring that last statement.
"Well, I could. But what's in it for me?"
"I can get you out of there." Reno suggested, pulling his rifle to his side.
Cutter slowly leaned forward and wrapped his arms around the bars of his cage again. With keen eyes he took in Reno's appearance once more. "What is your name?"
"Reno." The human answered.
"Nice name." Cutter nodded with a yellow-toothed grin. "I can tell a lot from a name. It's a hobby of mine, name reading. And your name tells me you are not from these parts. It tells me you're a traveller, not from this area. True?"
"A traveller of sorts. True." Reno said with a nod.
"And you would help a fellow traveller in need?"
Reno nodded again. For the location of the Diamond Dogs which would bring him a step closer to figuring out a way home? "I would."
Though it hardly seemed possible, Cutter's smile grew even broader. "My dear Reno... regardless of what you may think, your name will live in fame, and many will love it long after you are gone. Trust me, names are my speciality... it is simply for this reason I will show you where you will find the Diamond Dogs."
What the hell did Reno have to lose? Besides, the human was armed, and the donkey had nothing but his ability to ramble.
The human lifted the Krak and slotted the bayonet between the locks and chains. He held on to the stock then pulled down, twisting as he levered the rusty lock. The metal crumbled and broke away with surprising ease, causing the metal to thud into the dirt and the rifle to fall back into Reno's arms.
The entire bottom part of the cage fell away and Cutter disappeared ass first through the floor of his cell. With a distinct thud he landed in a heap at Reno's feet before the human took a few steps back.
"Ugh... you lose points for finesse." Cutter complained, climbing to his hooves. Shaking out his robe he quickly dusted himself down and looked around to get his bearings. Soon he was marching across the plateau, pointing off towards the horizon. "Right! Allons-y!"
Reno froze for a split second, watching Cutter go. "Oh no he didn't. He didn't, did he? No... he couldn't have." The human quickly shook his off and quickly followed the donkey. "Nah."
Keeping several paces behind, Reno kept Cutter in his sights. He wasn't completely trusting the donkey, but nothing about Cutter's behaviour made him untrustworthy in the slightest. He wasn't making an attempt to attack the human. He was keeping his end of the bargain.
Pushing his trust issues to the back of his mind, Reno took a breath and spoke. "Why did the monastery kick you out?"
Without turning to look, Cutter led Reno off a narrow pass cut into the face of the steep hillside, winding in and out across the steep grey rock. His face out of view the jack laughed. "Ah... I don't suppose my reputation precedes me, does it?"
As they talked and walked, they passed over a jet of water gushing out of the cliff face a few metres below the pass they were following. It arched downward, plunging into a small pool forming in a little rocky grotto, tiny rainbows dancing through the water all around.
"No." Reno put bluntly. The only pony names he'd come to know thus far were Trixie up to Spike. He'd never even heard a whisper of anyone named Cutter until now.
"Well, believe it or not, mister Reno." Cutter continued. "Names are everything around here in Equestria." He gave a sly glance over his shoulder at the human. "You're obviously not a pony, so I'm just going by the assumption you didn't know that."
Obviously not a pony? "Well, duh." Was all Reno could muster in reply.
Ignoring that, Cutter went on. "Out here names describe the pony... or donkey. Everyone's name describes who they are."
"That's the purpose of a name." Reno said in another blunt tone.
"And what exactly does 'Reno' mean... hmmmm?" Cutter paused, winding into the shadow of a massive outcropping crudely sliced into a mountainside. "Perhaps Reno doesn't mean anything, and is just an arbitrary label that identifies you as an individual entity." Cutter came to a halt by the mouth of the outcropping and leaned against the cold stone. That yellow toothed smile of his came back. "So what is your surname, Reno? Who are you... who are you really?" Cutters eyes narrowed a little.
Reno saw where this was going, and cradled his rifle across his chest in both arms. With a gritted jaw he looked into the outcropping, seeing it plunge away into a dark cavern. Cutter was beating around the bush. "Okay, so your name means something, and it was for that you were booted. If you don't want to tell me why you were kicked out of the monastery, all you have to do is say so." Reno said impatiently.
Cutter grinned broadly and nodded. "You are wise beyond your years, young Reno. I hope our paths cross again in the future, for I promise when that day comes I'll tell you everything you desire to know." Pushing from the wall he stood to his full height, about an inch shorter than the human.
Reno looked into Cutter's eyes for a moment, then gave a firm nod. "Sounds like a deal."
"Hey, Cutter." Reno added. "I don't suppose you have a pair of magic shoes that I can click the heels of and get home with, do you?"
The donkey stared for a long while, then smiled. The smile turned to a chuckle, which exploded into full blown laughter. Quickly, while bursting from the sides with amusement, the lay brother donkey pulled a pencil and a scrap of paper from his pockets and started scribbling.
"Click the heels and go home?" he managed to force out between laughs as he wrote what Reno had just asked down. "Can I use that?"
Reno grinned and sighed. "Yeah, sure." Dorothy won't mind, Reno thought to himself.
Getting over his fits of laughter, the jack pointed into the outcropping. "The Diamond Dogs are down there. This is like an emergency exit they carved in case their home flooded or caved in."
Reno stared wide eyed for a moment, the black hole beyond feeling like it was sucking him in. He suddenly had a dreadful epiphany. All this time he had thought the Diamond Dogs would make camp on the surface, and only used the subterranean tunnelling to attack, or travel. It never even occurred to him they would live in caves.
"Down there... oh shit." Reno felt his knees go weak. He almost dropped his rifle, hands trembling and stomach feeling sick. "I don't..." he glanced to Cutter who frowned. "I can't... I can't do caves." He shook his head.
"Afraid?" Cutter asked.
"Terrified." Reno immediately blurted out with a step back.
"Hmmmmm." Cutter nodded slowly with a thoughtful expression. There was a long pause, broken by the howling wind blowing past them.
"Hardship is an illusion." Came the donkey's voice, shattering the silence.
"What?" Reno blinked.
"Hardship. It's an illusion." Cutter said simply, pacing around the human. "If you persevere, face your fears and push through the pain and strife, you can pass any test a man can pass. Every good thing is a thing worth fighting for. It's even worth fighting dirty for. If you have the choice to run or fight, you have to fight. You always have to fight, and you know why? Because it is your self-sacrifice, your ability to pass the tests life puts in your path that makes the difference... your contribution always makes the difference." Cutter finished as he came to a halt beside Reno and gave the frozen human a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Fuck being afraid. And fuck those Diamond Dogs. You've come this far. Man up, and go a little further."
Another silence, shorter this time, and Cutter turned. He slowly started marching the way they had come, almost turning the corner out of sight by the time Reno had looked up.
"Hey, wait!" the human called, his voice echoing through the outcropping. "Where are you going?"
"Following the water." Cutter called back, before he disappeared around a bend in the pass...
And just like that the donkey was gone.
Reno looked back into the darkness before him. Hanging the Krak across his back, Reno fumbled for the pocket on his hip and pulled out his torch. Holding it in one hand, he clicked the 'on' button and watched a bright beam of light cut a clean swathe through the murky shadows. Deep claw-marks scored and pockmarked the smooth sides of the outcropping, indicated the passageway was hand-dug. By the Diamond Dogs no doubt. This was definitely an entrance to their lair.
It didn't motivate Reno anymore.
The human forced a step forward. And then a second. Pace by pace he followed a downward slope of the narrow pathway roughly hewn into the solid stone. The walls and darkness closed in all around him, closing into a tall but narrow passageway. He had to turn sideways to fit through, and wondered how the Diamond Dogs managed to fit. Already he felt like he had felt those nights ago in the burning village. Alone, scared and hidden under a table in a basement, witnessing the brutal torture of a pony. Basements were bad for Reno. Caves were worse.
Claustrophobia set in within seconds. Reno felt his heart flutter. He was short on breath and had to stop. He looked back. He was maybe five metres into the passage. Closing his eyes he took a deep, calming breath and looked forward again. His light cut a clear path for him, deeper into Equestria's mountains.
Swallowing hard he heard the words again. Hardship is an illusion.
It was take the plunge or pussy out and be stuck in Equestria for eternity with the guilt that he could have tried to save Rarity and didn't. Could he live with that? Could he live with himself knowing he could have tried and didn't simply because he was afraid of enclosed spaces?
"Fuck this." Reno seethed, and lowered his head, fought through his ingrained fear of natural caverns and pushed deeper into the darkness...
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The vault was hidden away in the dry, deserted westlands. Endless dunes surrounded the secretive prison facility, desert stretching so far that searching for this one paved stretch of land was like searching for a needle in a stack of identical needles. The facility itself was only about the side of a croquet field, surrounded by tall masonry walls topped with walkways home to Princess Celestia's specially chosen elite guard.
The guards were the best in Equestria, hand-picked by the god-princess herself to guard the greatest threat locked in a cell of steel and earth within the heart of the vault. Twenty burly stallions in all, clad from head to toe in golden armour and armed with a mixture of swords, halberds and A41 Judger rifles. The riflemen stood atop the walls, the pair of halberd guards standing watch at the front gate. The rest stood to stoic attention, hands resting on the hilts of their swords in the main courtyard. They didn't eat. They didn't sleep. These enchanted warriors didn't succumb to any sort of earthly desire. Their sole purpose was to guard the vault.
It was in their nature. It had become a part of their biology... their instinct.
The problem with nature was that they remained biological. They remained ponies. And as such, they were vulnerable.
Footsteps in the sand carried over the wind, causing one of the gate guards to shift his gaze. The vault guards didn't often move. In the last century only one of them had actually moved, to turn away a lost caravan. His steely eyes landed on a black clad figure walking through the sand towards him. The vault guards at the gate immediately lowered into a combat stance, holding their weapons at the ready. The wide blades at the end of the staffs glinted in the baking sun, heat wavering from the blistering surfaces of steel.
The Aeons of Equestria had betrayed the location of the vault to the Shadow Legion.
Command Karskin did not flinch or hesitate as he marched towards the vault guards. He was alone for the moment, clad in his usual black combat attire. He had done away with his rifle and instead carried a P226R pistol on each hip. His hands rested on the handles of the semi-automatic projectile weapons as he fearlessly marched to the blades pointed at him.
With a sharp click two pistols cleared their holsters and the hammers were sharply thumbed back. Karskin held them at arm's length and pulled both triggers. Thunderclaps echoed out into the desert. The guards' heads snapped back and they crumpled, armour and weapons clattering noisily to the ground. The Shadow Legion commander breezed into the compound as a dozen rifle muzzles trained on him. Karskin did not miss a beat.
Gunshots rang out across the vault grounds, rifle muzzles flashing like lightning in broad daylight. Bullets seared this way and that, crisscrossing in Karskin's direction. But every time the riflemen trained their sights on him and fired, the commander had more than enough time to move out of the bullet's path. It was like a deadly ballet of lead and fire, the commander ducked and weaved, whirling around guards and ducking under shots. All the time he held out his own guns and squeezed the triggers.
Swords were drawn as the guards on the ground attempted to cut down the trespasser, but he was too quick. Steel flashed this way and that before blood filled the air. Bullets from both Karskin's pistols and those from the riflemen on the turrets perforated the guards.
Karskin stepped past one blade and pressed the muzzle of one weapon against the pony's chin. The trigger pulled back and his head snapped back and the stallion fell dead. Meanwhile the commander's other pistol barked twice as he stepped back to avoid a volley of rounds aimed at him. The next pony took two to the chest, punching through armour and flesh, dropping the stallion like a sack of armoured meat.
Twisting, he crossed the pistol barrels over each other and caught the sharp end of a blade swung at his neck in an attempt to decapitate Karskin. Twisting the enemy's weapon between his own weapons, he squeezed both triggers. One round slid down the edge of the sword he had locked between the barrels and took four of the stallion's fingers clean off. The other pistol was angled downward a bit more, and the second round shattered a knee-cap.
The stallion fell with three others killed by friendly fire. Keeping the barrels of his weapons crossed, Karksin fired one more downward aimed shot, dead-checking the pony he'd disarmed and knee-capped. He then stepped aside, twirling around on the spot as rifle projectiles slammed into the concrete at his heels.
A volley of about a dozen quick shots scythed outward from Karskin's position and all over the walls riflemen doubled over or tumbled bleeding and screaming from the walkways.
Somewhere behind him was one last rifle shot. A beefy 7.62mm rifle round slashed past the commander's ear, the resulting 'snap' nearly tearing out his ear-drums. He quickly held out his right handed pistol, aiming backwards. Without even looking, he pulled the trigger, and though it would seem impossible, the last rifleman's head snapped back. His helmet was launched into the air, and clattered noisily to the ground beside where the owner lay in a pool of his own blood.
Taking a deep breath, the masked commander span the pistols on his index-fingers before slamming them home in the holsters again.
The vault guards, hand chosen and given the gift of eternal youth, unsusceptible to the weaknesses of any general soldier and each with aeons of experience... they all lay dead at Karskin's feet. The best Celestia had to offer hadn't been good enough.
A slow, deliberate applause caught Karskin's attention. He looked over his shoulder and saw a second Shadow Legion uniform clad figure entered the vault compound. The lord and master clapped his gloved hands together before they clasped together at his back and he continued to briskly march towards where Karskin stood in the centre of the courtyard.
"Truly, the one labelled Karskin, you make use of the Goddess' gifts." The Lord hissed with a hint of pride in his projected voice.
Karskin narrowed his eyes and bowed his head. The goddess had nothing to do with it. Karskin's skills were honed from aeons of practice, training, blood, sweat and tears. Regardless, knowing his place, the commander merely responded with: "Aye, m'lord."
"Now... it is time for the general to awaken." The Lord sighed, holding out his hands.
Everything changed around them. the sun grew vague. Shadows crept in from every corner of the compound and seemed to gather around the Lord. A black aura wavered and warped around the lord and master's hands as he focused all his energy and drew in the darkness from every corner of Equestria he could reach.
Looking up he saw clouds materialise out of thin air. The clear blue sky was obscured in seconds by thick cumulus. The sun itself was blocked out in seconds, bathing them in a sudden chilliness. Karksin exhaled and saw his breath filter through his scarf in a frozen vapour.
A thick raindrop fell, splattering directly between Karskin's eyes, causing him to flinch and blink. More drops, fat and icy rained from above in a sperratic fashion, hissing as they splashed onto the concrete courtyard that had baked under the sun for millennia.
Karskin watched as the darkness shot from the Lord's hands and connected with a circle of concrete dead centre in the courtyard. The shadows cut into the stone, whirling around and round like some sort of whirlwind made out of darkness. It slowly cut a cylinder into the solid concrete.
The commander heard a grinding noise and soon the cylinder cut into stone rose from the depths. Several feet of solid concrete slid before his eyes before a cage came into view. Cylindrical and barred off with typical, thick steel bars. The cage slid to a halt and the whirlwind of shadows subsided. The rain started pouring, drenching both Karskin and the Lord thoroughly. Soon their fatigues grew cold and heavy.
Within the cage before them was a dark figure, obscured entirely in shadows that seemed to cling to the surface of his body. All that was visible were his eyes, narrow and glowing crimson as they watched the two Shadow Legion followers make their way closer.
"Who are you?" came a commanding voice.
Karskin was about to answer when the figure looked directly into his eyes.
"Karskin!" the imprisoned creature bellowed at the sight of him.
Addressed by his true lord and master, Karskin immediately dropped to one knee and bowed deeply. "General Strife, sir!" Karskin barked neatly.
Names in Equestria were everything. They didn't simply label the individual. They described the person they named. Trixie. The Lord. Even Karskin, though an ancient Equestria name the meaning of which was lost to the new generation of ponies, the commander's name described him perfectly.
But above all, General Strife name told everything anypony needed to know about him. The general was conflict. He bled war. He perspired destruction. His dreadful presence was enough to incite conflict. After a jealous princess bathing Equestria in darkness, and a chaotic prankster spreading discontent with his antics, General Strife was comparatively the worst thing to have walked the lands.
And he was free once more.
Satisfied with the bow and the assurance that the past aeons had not made his trusted commander soft, General Strife averted his eyes to the lord and master, glaring at the new figure through the bars of his cell. "You would not bow before your master?"
"This one would not." The Lord spat casually. His tone caused Karskin to cringe, the commander knowing exactly what was going to happen. "For this one is the messenger of your true master."
It was as if the open air had weakened his bonds. Karskin watched as General Strife slipped his hands between the bars of his cell and pushed them aside. Steel groaned and creaked, folding aside with ease as he stepped out into the rain.
"Insolent creature. I am the master. I am the master of everything in Equestria... argh..." the general couldn't even finish his own sentence, ending in a choking noise.
The Lord had lifted one hand lazily, a dark aura surrounding his glove. The same aura closed around General Strife's throat and closed tight. His wind-pipe was crushed and the general was lifted clean off his feet, the cold rain hissing as it beat his skin for the first time in untold aeons.
Seeing the general in trouble, Karskin leapt to his feet. "No!" the commander screamed, tugging loose one of his pistols and pressing the barrel against the Lord's temple. "Go to hell, and take your fucking goddess with you..." the Shadow Legion trooper shouted as he squeezed the trigger...
But he was too slow. The Lord lazily waved his free hand and darkness exploded from a single point at the commander's foot. A blade of shadows scythed upward, tearing through Karskin's right thigh before slicing upwards through his belly. The force of the blow threw the commander into the air, sending him tumbling away. The gun went off, a bullet harmlessly pinging into a wall somewhere.
When Karskin hit the ground he bounced away before finally sliding to a halt on his side. Pain was everywhere. In his leg. In his gut. He could feel warmth leaving his body as the cold rain pierced into his very soul. Blinking away tears, the man looked down at a crimson mess spilled from his slashed belly and splayed over the courtyard beside him. A dark shadow crept over the front of his fatigues as he tried to reach out and put his parts back together with trembling hands. To no avail, he merely cringed with pain and cried out at the top of his lungs.
Ignoring the screams of the commander, the Lord narrowed his eyes and pulled General Strife closer to his face.
"The one labelled Strife. You are weak. Your loyalists." The Lord indicated where Karskin lay eviscerated. "Are weak... the Shadow Legion was weak under your command. I am strong, for I fight in the name of the almighty Goddess. I have since she inherited the Shadow Legion in your absence. The Shadow Legion is now greater than it has ever been. Fight in her name. Submit to the Goddess' will and you will be stronger than you were before. Fight in Her glorious name, and you shall make Equestria ours."
The general looked deep into Karskin's eyes. Then his head turned and looked to where Karskin lay. The bleeding commander watched helpless, unable to read the general he was still loyal to. He was waiting. Itching for General Strife to break free and tear the lord and master limb from limb...
But it never came.
"I will fight in Her name." General Strife suddenly forced out.
The magic around his neck faded and the general was set down.
"No!" Karskin screamed watching the lord turn around and begin walking out of the compound. The general didn't even bat an eye. Ignoring where the commander lay bleeding he merely followed like a loyal dog. "Damn you! I'll kill you! I'll fucking kill you and your fucking goddess! You hear me?" Karskin rolled onto his back sobbing.
Commander Karskin's dying cries echoed outwards for no one to hear as he lay alone in the rain...