General “Old” Fogey was feeling surprisingly tired at that moment.

It was, even by his standards, quite an odd sensation. All things considered, he should have been quite awake, his senses heightened by a steady flow of adrenaline. After all, he was surrounded by alien invaders with unspeakably powerful weapons, with only a husk of his admittedly meager starting forces. It brought back memories of the Bugbear Invasions, back when SMILE was still a force to be reckoned with. Fogey smiled almost dreamily as he remembered those halcyon days, hunting through the mountains with the local Griffin resistance. Every second among on that foreign soil was a gamble, the risk of Bugbear encounters too great for traditional militaries. Fogey could almost feel the adrenaline that had pumped through his blood on those missions, a feeling he quite distinctly could not detect today.

Upon consideration, the fault likely lay with the rather nasty gash running along his side. Aside from the advantages of massed heavy infantry, the lesson Fogey had learned most acutely in the Bugbear Mountains was that blood-loss tended to numb one’s senses. It would certainly explain his sudden shortness of breath.

“Sergeant, tell me, how bad does this wound look?” Fogey asked the well-dressed stallion to his left.

“I, I’m a Wonderbolt, sir,” a decidedly feminine voice responded.

“Ah, well, still, could you…” Fogey shrugged and carried on, chalking his mistake up to the blood loss. He was a general, Luna-blast it, he was not going senile!

The Wonderbolt Reservist cleared her throat. “Blue Cross is looking at it now, sir. Um, Blue Cross…”

“The General’ll be fine,” the medic answered and he finished stitching the torn skin together. “As long as he doesn’t exert himself too much, such as, I don’t know, charging headlong into a wall of aliens that can kill you with a mean look?”

“Pshaw!” Fogey said with a wave of his hoof. “You’re thinking of Gorgons, and we got rid of them forty years ago. Haven’t seen scale or fang of them since the San Palomino Raids. These bozos just have nifty little crossbows, like you read about in those newfangled ‘science fiction’ stories the colts are all so enamoured with. Bunch of hooey, I say, completely ridiculous. As though anypony other than Luna could travel to the Moon, it’s preposterous!”

Blue Cross rolled his eyes, sighed, and put away his tools. “Anyway, we’d better get moving. I’m sure these definitely-from-Equestria invaders will figure out where we are soon enough.”

“Again you show your ignorance!” Fogey said with a laugh. “They’re obviously other-dimensional beings come to harvest us for their diabolical masters.”

“Other-dimensional beings?” Blue Cross said with a raised eyebrow.

“Well of course,” Fogey replied. “Aliens from another world are just poppycock, sensationalist drivel made up by second-rate hacks trying to scare ponies into buying their latest serial. Other-dimensional invaders exist, and we have proof! Or, would, if all the records hadn’t been classified and then destroyed when, well, that’s classified.”

Blue Cross sighed again and wandered off. Fogey stretched his legs out and took stock of his remaining soldiers. It was a poor sight.

When the day began, he’d had full command of the Manehatten Reserves and the local branch of the Wonderbolts Reserves. Not enough to protect the city from a proper invasion, as recent events had made painfully clear, but sufficient to prepare the city in anticipation of reinforcements. Now he had maybe a fifth of his force left.

“Moon-durned dragon,” Fogey muttered. It had decimated his forces and shattered his phalanx with a single blast of flame, and kidnapped Rainbow Dash in the same pass, all while allowing the invaders to unleash their infernal crossbow fire into his unprotected line. Fogey winced at the thought. What cruel tortures are they putting you through?

With a sigh, Fogey cast those thoughts away. He had more pressing matters.

“Soldiers! Ponies of Equestria!” he called. The remnants of his forces slowly gathered in front of him. “I regret to inform you that we have been beaten. We have no chance of beating these invaders, not now. But there is still hope! Word must have reached Canterlot by now, and reinforcements will be coming. With they’re help, we’ll be able to kick these invaders out on their flanks! But that will never happen if the reinforcements can’t get into the city. Therefore, we’re going to the train station. We have to make sure that’s still in our hands if reinforcements are ever going to help us. Now, we march!”

Fogey strutted off as best he could, considering the care he had to take for his wound. His forces followed behind him, the surviving sergeants slowly shoving them back into formation. They roamed down the empty streets of Manehatten, carefully stepping over the bodies of the fallen. Distant explosions created a rumbling soundtrack to their march, accompanied by bursts of screaming. The surviving soldiers shivered and shook, their morale collapsing beyond what even their sergeants could remedy.

As they made their way across the city, small bands of survivors began silently joining them, civilians, slipping out of cellars, basements, and dark alleyways and falling in behind the soldiers. No chatter could be heard among them. Even the foals seemed unnaturally quiet, as though they understood the gravity of their situation. Their silence disturbed Fogey more than anything he could officially recall. Exhaustion could silence even the most social pony, but foals had long been an exception to his rule in Fogey’s book, especially when they were scared. Foals screamed and whined and cried; even in moments of greatest terror they made noise. To hear them fall silent gnawed at Fogey’s aging heart.

Thoughts of silence faded as they continued down the road, replaced by the growing rumble of active battle. Down the street, Fogey saw bands of unarmoured invaders charging around the corner, and from beyond that corner heard screams, explosions, and battle-cries.

“Blood for the Blood God!”

“Submit to the Truth that is Chaos!”

“For the Emperor!”

Blue Cross trotted up to Fogey’s side.

“What now, General? Try and go around?”

Fogey stood silent for a moment, weighing his options. Another battle-cry rung out.

“For Equestria!”

The aging General inhaled deeply. “We do our duty, Medic. We protect Equestria and all her citizens. Ponies! Soldiers of Equestria! With me!”

The sergeants echoed his call, spurring the beleaguered soldiers on to some semblance of morale. Fogey led the march with renewed vigour. Behind him, the civilians scattered again, slipping into the abandoned buildings to wait out the engagement. The soldiers marched with Fogey. The remnant unicorns summoned up their last reserves of magic, while the pegasi took once more to the sky. Fogey’s fellow earth ponies formed up around him, reconstructing the phalanx he so loved.

As they neared the corner, the sounds of battle grew louder and louder, until they drowned out all else. Fogey grinned, determined to prove such a statement wrong.

“Altogether now,” he said, His surviving soldiers tensed, drawing in breath for what they knew was to come. Then, in unison, they howled to the skies as they charged into the fray. “For Equestria!”

And even as they charged to the corner, a single sound drowned out all else, if only for a moment.

“How dare you?”
______

Amidst the rage of battle, Codicier Renato was troubled.

It was not his current situation which disturbed his thoughts. The greatest danger had, for now, passed. Their escape from the xenos building had been a near thing, but by the grace of the Emperor, they had survived. The servants of Chaos seemed to have lost interest in them, leaving only Word Bearers footsloggers and the scum who followed them.

With naught but cannon fodder left to fall before his blade and storm bolter, the centuries-old Marine’s mind was left to wander. Thus, his troubled mind turned back several hours, to the brief session that had been the War Council, and to the pink xenos, Cadenza.

The clicking of his storm bolter warned Renato to ready a fresh magazine. As he psychically slammed fresh ammunition in, he boggled over what the xenos seemed to have done. Interpreting alien psykery was always difficult task; their inhuman minds and unnatural psychology left them difficult to read. But in that moment, the moment when the xenos had entered the room, Renato had sensed its searching psychic pulse. He had felt its psychic gaze pass over his battle-brothers, had felt it travel… somewhere else.

Fetid blood sprayed as the Codicier’s force sword slashed through a diseased cultist. Fury coursed through the blow, born both from the Thirst which afflicted all Sons of Sanguinius, and from the blasphemy he had been witness to.

Somehow, impossibly, he had felt the xenos make, if only for the briefest second, contact with the Emperor of Mankind.

It was a mind-boggling, preposterous proposition, heresy of the highest order. But Renato had no other explanation for what he had sensed. Those golden rays, so beautiful even if only glimpsed for but a fraction of a thought…

What manner of aliens have we found here? Renato wondered, a flutter of discomfort passing through his hearts. They bear his Aquila, and can reach out to him… Father of our Father, what land is this you have placed us upon?

These were the thoughts which so disturbed Renato as he tore through the ranks of Chaos. But such broodings were not the sum of that engagement. At Renato’s side fought Paolo, his old friend. In the brief snatches between smiting the Emperor’s foes and mulling over the xenos Cadenza’s unfathomable action, Renato allowed the portion of his mind which was still merely human to reminisce about the days of his youth. A smile flickered across Renato’s lips, the expression so brief that it began as he swung at a cultist and ended before the first droplet of blood had been shed. It had been the three of them then, Paolo, Alessandro, and Renato, serving in the Tenth Company. Even now, two centuries later, Renato could still recall the simple joy of fighting alongside his dearest brothers.

With a precision and grace born of centuries of camaraderie, Renato and Paolo headed up the charge. Renato culled the chaff from the field with sword and psykery, turning the very blood of his foes into living bombs and cutting them down with his mighty force sword. To Paolo’s mighty Thunder Hammer fell foes more worthy of his killing prowess. Cultists and Chaos Marines alike died before their wrath.

But while they were the charge’s head, they were not its only strength. Using the jump packs so adored by their Chapter, Priam and the remains of his squad leapt about the battlefield, killing with fire and melta and Priam’s power sword. Though themselves diminished, they nonetheless kept the enemy corralled, leaping back and forth to drive the servants of Chaos into more convenient killing fields.

Rumbling at Renato’s other side was the heavily damaged chassis of Castello. His ancient joints creaked with every step, while exposed wires sparked from the deep gashes in his adamantium armour. Wounded severely by the Iron Warriors who had joined the assault on the xenos building, the undying warrior still served, though only by the Emperor’s Grace. Renato doubted Castello would survive even one more solid hit, certainly not two. But still the Dreadnought fought on, tearing the Chaos hordes apart with his crackling Blood Talons and scouring them from the surface of this alien world with meltagun and heavy flamer.

Taking Imperial military doctrine into account, the strangest part of the charge was also its bulk. The equine xenos, mostly survivors of the local Adeptus Arbites equivalent, pulled up the rear. Most proved largely useless, doing little more than surviving and carrying supplies and the wounded. The psyker-xenos proved more useful, providing some semblance of covering fire for the Blood Angels. It could not compare to the volleys of the Imperial Guard, but with so few Astartes at his side, Renato would take whatever he could get.

Out of the corner of his eye, Renato checked on Twilight Sparkle. A convenient ally and an enjoyable conversation partner, Renato was unsure exactly what to make of it. It was xenos and thus inferior to humanity in all regards, but still, he felt a strange kinship with it. If nothing else, it was nice to be able to discuss psykery with a being that could understand; he loved his battle-brothers, but the Librarius was a lonely posting, a mark of separation that forever kept its members apart from the rest of the Chapter.

As the Codicier’s gaze passed over the xenos he and his brothers were escorting, he took brief note of the newest addition, the white-furred Rarity. The xenos seemed to be acting… strangely, for lack of a better word. Though likely imperceptible to mortal eyes, his genhanced vision allowed him to easily see the micro-differences in its movements, in its posture. However, he could also see the wounds the xenos bore; gashes marred its ivory fur, and its horn was quite noticeably cracked.

Any attempt at further analysis was quite abruptly interrupted by the utterly unexpected appearance of Pinkie Pie.

Renato spun his posthuman eyes around to the pink-furred xenos. Even with the genhanced speed of a Space Marine, somehow, he found his movement too slow for the xenos.

“Heya, weird-alien-not-unicorn-guy!” Pinkie gave Renato a grin too larger for its face. Before the Codicier could form even a single word, Pinkie spoke again, seeming to almost teleport around his armoured form. “Wow, your armour is really, really tough, like old Ms. Nit-Pick’s tests or trying to beat a Wardian army list, and it’s a really nice blue, hey, you think we could paint some rainbows on so you’d look like, well, Rainbow? I mean, she could use something to cheer her up, since she’ll, whoops! Almost spoiled that, well for you, anyway, and I can’t… excuse me a moment.”

In the blink of an eye, Pinkie disappeared. Renato quickly scanned the battlefield, only to find the xenos now in front of him, having produced a strange, rounded device he recognized as a simplified rendition of an ancient artillery piece. Pinkie, somehow wielding its hooves like a man would his hands, pulled the string dangling off the device, causing it to fire a blast of glittery paper into the face of a Word Bearers Champion, sending the Traitor Astartes flying through the air. Renato watched, dumbstruck, as the Chaos Marine slammed into his own men, sending the whole squad tumbling to the ground with a strange, almost wooden clattering sound.

“There, sorry about that but they were going to interrupt and that’s just rude, I mean, why would you just run on up and interrupt somepony while they’re talking, or someone, I guess, does somepony count as a general term?” Pinkie rambled on, bouncing around Renato’s vision like an Eldar Harlequin. “Anyway, that’s not why I’m here, I’ve got to tell you, oh, what was it, oh yes! You…”

Pinkie’s message was interrupted as Twilight landed just beside them.

“Pinkie!” Twilight cried, dashing over to its compatriot. “There you are! I’ve been so worried about all you girls, where have you been?”

“Oh, around,” Pinkie replied with a smirk. Renato threw a Blood Lance at an advancing Word Bearer, slaying the heretic at a stroke.

Twilight groaned. “Pinkie, we don’t have time for this. Listen, we got to get the rest of the girls, then get back to the bridge, BBBFF is…”

“Coming here with a bunch of extra ponies to help, I know that,” Pinkie said, waiving its hoof dismissively. “I didn’t get a chance to talk to him because I had to be all serious for a moment for dramatic purposes, but it really wasn’t fun at all, and the other big mean guy in black showed up, and I’m not quite sure where the first one went. But don’t worry, they’ve got Dashie, and I think Luna just found them. But, Twilight, we have to get the rest of the girls together and get out of here. A hey, are you trying to spoil the story? is coming. The rest of us are a couple of blocks away, just over there. Follow the candy, you can’t miss it.”

“What was that ‘bleep?’ And candy? Never mind,” Twilight said, shaking her head as though to toss the thought from her mind. “Just that way?”

Twilight raised her hoof to mirror Pinkie’s. Renato followed the line, and found it lead around a nearby corner.

“Twilight, what is going on?” the Codicier asked. “We have to link up with Orlando’s force. I’m not sure we have time to go searching for your friends.”

The purple xenos’ jaw fell slack, and it gave Renato a look of absolute horror. “But, they’re my friends! I can’t just abandon them! And besides, we’re the Element Bearers! We might not have the Elements of Harmony anymore, but we’re still heroes, and we can’t just leave each other to…”

Renato fixed a firm note in his mind to research these ‘Elements’ later.

Pinkie spoke again. “Besides, I’m pretty sure your friend is there too! Isn’t it great? It’s a reunion! But we better hurry, ‘cause we don’t have a lot of time left!”

“Please, Renato, we have to go get them!” Twilight pleaded. Renato sighed.

“I will not jeopardize what few brothers I have left on this world. Unless… tell me, how important are these ‘Elements of Harmony?’” Renato replied. He fired a few shots from his storm bolter, keeping the Chaos Marines back, even if only for a moment. A cold feeling crept through his hearts. How much time have I wasted here? My brothers need me.

“I’ll have you know we’ve saved Equestria from certain doom no less than five times!” Twilight rather proudly asserted. “We’ve fought monsters and dark magic! We’re Equestria’s last line of defence! And they are my friends! If you won’t go after them, I’ll rescue them myself!”

Renato paused a moment to carefully consider his options. It was a moment only to the mind of an Astartes; for mortal minds, his response seemed almost immediate.

“Very well,” he said. The Codicier turned to the Dreadnought currently tearing a swarm of cultists asunder. “Castello! Turn right! We’re going on a rescue mission!”

Castello’s laughter boomed and crackled from his vox. “By your word, Librarian! Let us march to glory, then! By the Blood of Sanguinius!”

With those words, the line turned. Astartes and xenos alike turned down the street, with Twilight Sparkle now taking the lead. Wielding its psychic might with the mastery of a seasoned Librarian, Twilight blasted a path for the column. Renato fought at Twilight’s side, boiling the blood of the cultists and lancing any who dared to withstand their combined wrath. Beside them the Blood Angels tore a gory swath. Behind them, the unicorns joined in the volley of psykery.

The servants of Chaos fell before them like chaff. Renato found it no achievement, however; the last of the Chaos Astartes had long since either died or sought easier prey. Only weak-minded cultists remained for them to fight, and even they were spending more time trying to escape than actually fight.

However, Renato found he did not mind the lack of challenge much. After all, the sooner they accomplished this rescue, the sooner they could try to rejoin Alessandro and properly retake this alien city.

Soon, the sounds of a conflict far more deserving of the term ‘battle’ than what Renato as currently engaging in carried on the air. The whiz of alien psychic beams, the cracking of bone and metal, and the resound of exploding boltshells all echoed down the street.

“It would seem the xenos knew truth,” Castello boomed between roars of his heavy flamer. “Onwards, brothers and aliens! Battle awaits, and I shall not be denied its glory!”

Then, as they charged towards the sound of battle, for a brief moment, a single noise, a great cry, overcame all.

“How dare you?”
_____

Flash Sentry was wearing out.

It was not something he would admit to just anypony, especially not the strange, red-armoured aliens he had spent the last hour or so fighting alongside. But, much to his chagrin, it was true.

Ponies, Flash decided, were very definitively not intended to fight for hours on end without rest. Short bursts of violence, though better to avoid if possible, were nonetheless quite doable. To keep doing so for hours and hours…

Flash shivered as he considered just how these aliens were able to do it without even breaking a sweat.

Still, he had no choice. He could fight, or he could die. As his prized Crystal Sabre opened an unarmoured alien with a crude club, Flash felt quite justified in preferring to fight.

An alien Flash had almost missed fell screaming at his side, its misshapen skull crushed under the heavy hooves of Red Ensign. The Trotontonian grunted and kept up the charge, slamming his massive, red-coated body into the next alien without a pause. Overhead, the pegasus Blusterwinds soared through the hot air, dive-bombing the aliens at every opportunity. The grey-coated stallion lacked Red Ensign’s strength, but made up with speed and agility.

A purple-red explosion scattered a band of unarmoured aliens. Cackling with glee, Hot Fumes tossed makeshift explosives left and right, sowing confusion and death among the aliens. She was an odd mare, but Flash had dealt with stranger, and her skills more than compensated.

All three of his fellows ponies were their weariness as much as Flash. They were tired, worn out by hours of combat and pushed to the limit by the loss of so many of their squad. Few of them had known any of the others for longer than the mission itself, but they were still all Equestrian, still all ponies, and to lose so many so quickly…

Their deaths will not be in vain, Flash silently swore.

“Ho! Xenos! How fare you?” the shield-bearing Blood Angel, Orlando, called. Flash watched as the alien champion danced through their common enemy’s line, his bronze-bladed sword cleaving through their armour without a hint of resistance.

“Fahn,” Flash mumbled through the hilt of his sword. He lunged into the air and dove at an alien invader. A moment later, and the invading horde was less a soldier.

“I see why you like this one,” another Blood Angel called. This one, Durante, was clad in golden armour, with a massively oversized hoof as its weapon. When he had first seen it, the weapon had seemed ridiculous. That opinion had changed after Flash had seen Durante punch the top half of an invader off in a haunting gory sight that Flash suspected would follow him to the grave.

Within a second of speaking, Durante swept his weapon through a line of unarmoured aliens, splattering blood and gore across the streets. At his side was the other gold-armoured Blood Angel, Flavio. With a sword Flash could swear he had seen before, Flavio swept through the invader lines. Together, Flavio and Durante made a dangerous pair. Flavio headed their charge, his sword cleaving through the chaff. Durante followed but two steps behind, slaying those who survived Flavio’s assault.

Off to Flash’s left fought two more of the Blood Angels, Fausto and Placido. Even by the standards of this insane day, Flash had never seen anypony fight like those two. Placido fought with a fury to put even the invading berserkers to shame, his lightning-blue sword tearing through armour and flesh with the speed of a cheetah. Yet through it all, he made not a sound; not even a grunt of exertion did he make. Dozens died beneath his blade, and only the screams of the dying marked their passing. Fausto seemed to Flash to be somewhat mad, eschewing the basic principles of close combat. Never did he raise his fist, nor lay even a hair on his foes. With the cannon fodder of the invaders swarming around him like parasprites, Fausto kept a tight grip on the red tube he called a ‘meltagun.’ Whatever it was, Fausto wielded it like a scalpel. Moving too quickly for a being in armour like his, Fausto dodged the attacks of his enemies, dancing between their crude cudgels and blades. When he chose to issue death, he leveled his meltagun and fired a white-red beam. All who the beam touched died instantly, their bodies reducing to char and smoke.

Flash turned to Orlando, taking advantage of a brief respite in the battle. “Remind me why he ran off like that?”

A short while earlier the white Blood Angel, Domenico, had simply run off, tearing a bloody swath through the invader lines and disappearing down the streets. Since then, Orlando had lead their half-beleaguered band in pursuit.

“Our Chapter’s way is the glorious charge, and Domenico has long been enamoured with it,” Orlando replied. “The Knife called him, and he answered. Now we must retrieve him.”

Flash suppressed a groan and slashed a charging invader. There was no point in complaining; he needed every ounce of strength he had left.

So they fought on, the ponies pushing themselves to their limits, the Blood Angels unleashing their seemingly boundless fury on the invaders. Invaders died, and blood was shed by both sides. The battle became almost timeless, adrenaline and blood loss destroying Flash’s ability to experience the passage of time. A second or an eternity could have passed, and neither would have been noticed.

Then came a sound, a great, booming voice that resounded through the streets.

“Treat me like a pushover, and you’ll get the once over!”

Flash, the remnants of his team, and Orlando’s Blood Angels burst around the corner. Just as expected, they found a skirmish already in progress. The exact nature of that engagement, however, was, as Flash’s old training sergeant would have said, rather baffling.

The alien horde swarmed, as they had expected. But fighting against them was not a band of Blood Angels, or even policeponies or soldiers, but rather a frenzied mob of civilians. Ponies of all three tribes, of all colours and occupations, thronged through the wide street. Pegasi flittered about the street. Earth ponies kicked and bucked for all they were worth. Unicorns filled the air with makeshift projectiles and petty spells. The tattered remains of clothing, once marks of class and job, hung from the battered and bloodied bodies of the mob. They matched the aliens in ferocity, even if their skill left much to be desired. Ponies and aliens alike died, their bodies torn and crushed amidst the throng of battle.

In the centre of the battle was the least likely trio Flash had ever seen. Though it took him a moment to distinguish her from the rest of the mob, Flash quickly recognized Applejack, the Element of Honesty. Her Stetson sporting several rather conspicuous new holes, she still fought on, cracking bones and driving the aliens before her. At her side was, of all things, a minotaur. A grey-skinned hulk, the minotaur roared battlecries and tore into the aliens with one of their own weapons, a chainsword if Flash remembered correctly. The last of the three was, after Applejack, the most familiar. Flash watched as a crimson blade ripped through the air, white armour splattered with blood and golden chalice raised high.

Orlando laughed beside Flash. “It seems the Priest Domenico has found us a fresh battle. Tell me, xenos, have you strength enough for another bout?”

“Screw it, leftenant,” Red Ensign said, panting. “We’re worn out, beaten up, and I’m pretty sure Blusterwinds’ about to drop dead. Let’s kill these Sons of Mitch’s and get the buck back home.”

“I’m still with you, lieutenant, whatever the leafer says,” Blusterwinds said, trying to hide his very obvious exhaustion.

Hot Fumes seemed almost giddy. “Oh, I can test out this new bomb! I just put it together an dI have no idea what it’ll do, isn’t it great?”

Flash turned to Orlando and smiled. “Let’s do this. For Equestria!”

“For Sanguinius!” Orlando shouted as both ponies and Blood Angels alike rushed to join the fray.

“And the Emperor!” the other Blood Angels cried.

Flash and Blusterwinds took to the sky, their weary wings beating with a brief resurgence of energy. A moment later, amidst a mighty roar of flame, the Blood Angels joined them, if only for a moment. They found an open point in the alien line, a place where the frenzied ponies were not in the way.

Like a tidal wave they crashed into the aliens. Bones crunched under the weight of the Blood Angels’ armour. Skin and flesh was rent as blades and hooves were unleashed. The aliens died screaming, their pitiful armour no match for the might of their new foes. Flash swung the Crystal Sabre with a newfound strength, rending his foes. He and Blusterwinds fought in tandem; the latter struck from above, throwing the enemy off-balance, while Flash slashed from below, undercutting their defenses and securing the blow.

“Bite this, you hoser!” Red Ensign roared as he slammed into the alien line. A few ear-shattering blasts told Flash that Hot Fumes had joined the madness.

With Blusterwinds supporting him. Flash fought, strangely enough, at Orlando’s side. The three of them carved a bloody path through the aliens. Orlando all but waded through, his bronze-bladed sword meeting not even a hint of resistance as it passed through the aliens. Soon, they found themselves fighting alongside the unlikely trio Flash had seen.

“Applejack!” Flash called. The farmpony bucked an alien in the knee, sending it screaming to the ground, before turning to face Flash.

“In tarnation, how did ya’ll git ‘ere?” she asked. “Ain’t ya supposed ta be with Twi’s brother?”

“I came ahead with a scout team,” Flash explained, dropping for a moment the Crystal Sabre to his hooves. “We were supposed to find out what was going on here, then report back to Canterlot. We were… delayed.”

“Well, I ain’t one ta pass up honest help when it’s offered,” Applejack said with a shrug. “Come on, we got a lot of these’uns ta deal with.”

Flash nodded and grasped his sword once again.

“Come, come you Warp-cursed heretics!” Domenico cried, laughing as he swept through the alien ranks. “Let your blood feed the Knife!”

“Brother, curb your zeal!” Orlando called. He fought to Domenico’s side, sword and shield gleaming in the orange evening light. “I’ll not see you lost again.”

“Fear not, brother,” Domenico replied. “We’ve enough here to slake even Lemartes’ thirst. Look on, and listen! Do you not here it?”

Flash dropped another alien and took a moment to strain his ears, listening for the sound Domenico spoke of. At first he could hear nothing, but then it came, a growing rumble, the whirring of chain-blades and the pounding of alien shoes on tarmac. Flash could not see through the mass of aliens, but still he heard.

“Aye, I see them,” Orlando said. “Word Bearers, and a cadre of their heretic brethren. Even… Emperor burn their souls, there is a Helbrute among there number, and Terminators aside! Brothers, to me! We’ve a true battle to wage! Drive this rabble back, that we might regroup!”

In that instant, Flash Sentry saw a change in the fighting of his Blood Angels allies. In the hour they had fought together, Flash had seen these alien warriors fight with a speed and ferocity he had thought unnatural. Now, he saw them unleashed, and decided that ‘unnatural’ was something of an understatement.

The Blood Angels moved with impossible speed. In the blink of an eye, Flash saw them fell several times their meager number. Their weapons flitted through the air, almost too fast for the eye to catch. In mere seconds, they broke the alien fodder, sending the surviving screaming into retreat. As the cannon fodder fled, Flash allowed himself a moment of rest, catching his breath and steeling his heart. This was just the beginning.

Orlando turned around. “We’ve little time before they open fire, and we must plan. Tell me, xenos, what is the condition of your force? We’ll need bodies to absorb the opening volley, and to keep the servants of Chaos busy while we slay them.”

Applejack stormed up to Orlando, a fire in her eyes. “Now jes ya’ll wait a cotton-pickin’ minute, what in the hay was that? Ya’ll could do that the whole time? Why didn’t ya just send ‘em packin’ in the first place?”

Orlando groaned. “Now is neither the time nor the place to discuss this xenos. Every second we waste the enemy draws near, and if we are not ready, we will be overwhelmed.”

“Let them come!” the minotaur said, proudly puffing his chest out. “If they want to beat us, they’ll have to deal with Iron Will!”

Flash chose that moment to intervene. “Applejack, this mob, do you think they can keep fighting? Whether we like it or not, these invaders are tough, and we’ll need every hoof we can get.”

“Iron Will’s ponies won’t let you down,” Iron Will interrupted. “We’ve been fighting these bozos all day, haven’t been beaten yet.”

“Okay, and Orlando, you mentioned ‘Terminators’ and a ‘Helbrute.’ Do you have a way of stopping them?” Flash asked.

“Placido, Fausto, come here,” Orlando said, gesturing to one of his warriors. “These warriors bear the Primarch’s holy melta. If we can get them close enough, then no armour in the galaxy can save them.”

“Well, now, Orlando, you can’t just go forgetting us, can you?” Durante said, a smile in his tone. “Flavio’s wonderful little pistol will do just the same job, and while I don’t want to brag, this power fist of mine happens to make a rather wonderful nutcracker.”

Orlando turned back to Flash. “Keep us alive, and we can handle them.”

“Well then, Iron Will says, let’s get ready to rumble!” Iron Will shouted.

“Ah don’t like it, but Ah guess we can’t do much else…” Applejack said with a weary sigh.”You better be right about this. Come on ya’ll, let’s win this!”

The ponies and Blood Angels quickly formed a line. It was a shoddy thing, the kind of line that would have drill sergeants livid. But for now, it would do.

The growing force of alien invaders marched nearer. Flash could see them now, in all their horror. It was a writhing mass of pink flesh and crimson armour. Banners marked with strange, alien symbols that Flash somehow, instinctively knew were unholy, were raised among the horde. A rumbling, atonal chant rose from the alien ranks, its beat in tune with their advance. Chainblades whirred in the hot, humid air. Heavily armoured aliens, what Flash assumed to be Terminators, slogged forward, heavy and cruel weapons carried in their alien grasps. In the centre of the line was a massive, fleshy box on legs, a warped machine Flash could only assume was a Helbrute.

After hours of fighting these aliens, he had learned to approximate their tactics. Their weapons had a terrifying range, but they rarely took full advantage of it, preferring to draw closer and make their shots more accurate. At their current rate, the aliens would be in firing range in but a moment.

Lieutenant Flash Sentry tensed, and for a moment, he could almost swear he saw his life flash before his eyes. Without needing to look, he knew his surviving fellows were doing the same. Suddenly, he felt a strange, metal patting on his head.

“Hold together, xenos,” Orlando said. “By the Emperor’s Grace, we’ll win this yet.”

Then, the aliens reached the range. The aliens leveled their weapons, and opened fire. Explosions rocked the street, tearing up the tarmac and striking down ponies left and right.

“Advance!” Orlando commanded, pointing his sword at the aliens.

“Iron Will says, let’s get them!” Iron Will shouted, thrusting his chainsword forward.

As one, the Blood Angels roared. "For the Emperor!"

The aliens responded with their own cries. "Blood for the Blood God! Submit to the Truth that is Chaos!"

The mob surged forward, the ponies seemingly bound to the dauntless spirit of Orlando and Iron Will. The two armies rushed closer. Beams of energy and various projectiles whizzed through the air, both sides shedding the others’ blood. Battlecries arose and turned incoherent, all speech reduced to expression of pure emotion, fury and terror given audible form. The Blood Angels led the charge, surging ahead of the ponies, with only Iron Will, Applejack, and Flash able to keep pace. The aliens rushed to meet them, the massive, twisted form of the Helbrute raising twin taloned hooves, flame spewing forth from beneath the claws. Then, as each side neared the others’ line…

“How dare you?” a single voice broke through the roar of battle. Both sides froze, stunned by the interruption. Flash spun around to see, of all ponies, Fluttershy hovering in the air, staring directly at the alien horde, fury etched into her butter-yellow face. “How dare you come here and hurt innocent ponies like this! What did they ever do to you? But you came and you murdered them and you never even said why! Stop this right now and apologize and then turn yourselves in to Princess Celestia!”

Flash lost track of Fluttershy’s speech around that moment. His gaze was caught by a blur of red, as one of the Blood Angels lunged forward. Fausto rushed behind the Helbrute, his weapon firmly gripped.

“For the Emperor!” he shouted. A white-red beam lanced out from his meltagun, searing through the Helbrute’s armour. The monstrosity screamed, crimson smoke pouring from its twisted form. Then, in a burst of light, it exploded. Shards of corrupted metal and hunks of twisted flesh flew through the air, falling like rain on aliens and ponies alike. Fluttershy squeaked and fled, her wings beating like a hummingbird.

With that explosion, the battle was joined.

Both sides charged, their lines swiftly crossing the meager distance and slamming into each other. Blades flashed through the air while hooves of all sorts pounded on armour and flesh. Pegasi dive-bombed the aliens, and the aliens answered with cruel knives. Earth ponies pounded away on their armour, and were slashed and pummeled in return. Unicorns provided what support they could, while the aliens simply threw more poorly armoured bodies into the fray.

The centrepiece of the battle was focused on the alien Terminators. Five they numbered, each bearing a cruel-edged blade or profanely-headed mace. Their alien guns thundered, spewing death in various forms: white-red beams, green blobs, tongues of flame, and simple shells. Against them stood Iron Will, Applejack, the Blood Angels, Flash Sentry, and his team. The Terminators were hardy, their amour simply shrugging off blows that would have felled a pony or even a Blood Angel. The ponies and Blood Angels answered with sheer determination. Iron Will and Orlando fought at the forefront, chainsword and bronze blade blazing through the air, slowly chewing away at the Terminators’ defenses. Flash joined Domenico, the pair of them simply hacking away with their blades, hoping against hope to find a chink in the armour. Placido fought in his characteristic silence, his sword clattering against the alien armour, his pistol firing white-red beams whenever he could chance a shot. Flavio swung as well, his strangely familiar sword hefted and swung, while his pistol spat viridian death at all he could take aim at. Fausto fought in his strange manner, dodging every blow that came his way and carefully executing his foes with his meltagun one at a time. Applejack fought, strangely enough, in tandem with Durante. Wherever she bucked, Durante’s power fist would soon follow.

But it was not enough. The Terminators were tough, shrugging off all these attacks as though they were Breezies in the wind. Flash saw them shift and warp before his eyes; one moment a blue aura would block their blows, the next, a pungent reek would signify a sudden toughening of their flesh. They fought at times with speed unnatural even by the standards of their kind, and at others, with a ferocity only the Blood Angels could match. Wearied from a long day of fighting, the ponies were growing slow. Even Iron Will’s strikes were coming slower, if only by fractions of seconds. The Blood Angels, though more enduring than the ponies, found their efforts stymied. Slowly, but surely, the Terminators were winning.

The battle around them was little better. With all but three of the only true warriors in their force engaged in a duel with the Terminators, the frenzied ponies faltered. Red Ensign, Blusterwinds, and Hot Fumes did their best, but they were simply not enough to turn the tide. They tried their hardest; Red Ensign struck with all the strength his lumberjack physique offered him, spewing northern profanities with every buck. Blusterwinds led massed dive-bombs, slamming into the aliens only to slip back into the air before revenge could be taken upon them. Hot Fumes was almost everywhere at once, throwing all manner of explosives into the alien lines. But it was to little avail. The aliens’ armour was too strong; no longer were they fighting mere cannon fodder. These were true alien warriors, the kind that had slaughtered Flash’s team. Mere ponies stood no chance against such terrifying might.

Then came what seemed to Flash to be a miracle. Two cries went up, echoing from beyond the alien horde.

“For Equestria!”

“For Sanguinius and the Emperor!”

But a moment later, the aliens were thrown into disarray. The clopping of hooves on the streets signaled the arrival of new ponies, trained soldiers if Flash heard the pattern of their approach properly. He saw the tattered remains of Wonderbolts uniforms zipping through the air, joining the pegasi assault. A voice he had never thought he would hear again rose for a moment above the roar of battle.

“Up and at them, chaps!” General Fogey shouted.

But a second later, a deep, mechanical voice boomed across the street.

“Even in death I still serve!”

Even through the mass of bodies, Flash could see the Blood Angel Dreadnought smash through the alien lines, his crackling blue talons tending their armour like wet tissues. Lightning-blue explosions rocked the alien line, and to Flash’s gut-wrenching disgust he began to see alien warriors explode in showers of blood. Overhead, he saw Princess Twilight soaring, unleashing all manner of magics upon the alien horde.

The Terminators turned to face these new threats, leaving but two of their number to fend off their initial foes.

“Seize the initiative!” Orlando shouted. “Kill them, in the name of the Emperor!”

Orlando, Domenico, Fausto, Placido, Durante, Flavio, Iron Will, Applejack, and Flash Sentry all fell upon the twin Terminators like starving timberwolves. In one last burst of adrenaline, they fought, tearing at every weak point, smashing at every defense. Swords and hooves alike slammed into their foes, accompanied by white-red beams and viridian blasts. The Terminators swung back, mace and sword seeking vengeance for every blow. But it was not enough, and soon, one fell. The sword-bearer overstepped his strike by a hair. It was all they needed.

Orlando smashed the Terminator in the face with his shield, throwing the alien off-balance. Applejack chose that same moment to buck the back of his legs, sending the Terminator falling to his knees. Domenico and Flavio hacked at the Terminator’s head, their blows leaving a hairline fracture in the invulnerable armour. Flash lunged in, the Crystal Sabre glittering in the evening sun, and struck the killing blow. He cleaved the alien’s head, opening his skull and rending his fetid brain. The Terminator slumped to the ground, dead.

His fellow sought vengeance immediately. With a single swing of his mighty mace, the second Terminator knocked Flash, Domenico, and Orlando to the ground.

“Know the Truth of Chaos!” the Terminator boomed as he stood over the trio, his skull-headed mace raised to the sky.

He spoke no more, as but a second later a lightning-blue talon crackled through the air, slicing the Terminator in two with a single stroke.

“I am the instrument of his Will!” Castello proclaimed as he tore through the Terminators. It was a conceptually horrifying but emotionally gratifying sight. The Terminators, mighty though they were, stood little chance against the Dreadnought’s power. Lightning-blue talons ripped their armour apart, exposing their vulnerable insides. Those who survived died mere moments later as Blood Angels, ponies, and Iron Will descended upon them, tearing at every gash in the armour until the Terminators moved no more.

The alien horde broke and scattered. Those that could fled down the alleyways, seeking refuge beyond the sight of their enemies. Most, however, found themselves trapped between three armies, and were destroyed. Flash sheathed his sword and found himself panting, his lungs screaming for air. A sudden tiredness overtook him as the last drops of adrenaline burned out.

Princess Twilight landed in front of him, seeming rather pleasantly unharmed. That’s good, Flash thought. A Princess of Equestria shouldn’t have to deal with… this. That’s our job, the army’s job.

“Flash Sentry, right?” Twilight cautiously greeted him. Too tired for speech, Flash simply nodded. “Oh, good, it is you! Is Shiny here? Did he bring reinforcements? How many did he bring? Why is it taking so long to retake the city?”

Flash mustered up the strength to speak. It was a relatively easy task, considering the time Twilight’s endless questions gave him. “I don’t know. I led a scout team, we got attacked, never made it back.”

Off to the side, Flash heard a similar conversation between two of the Blood Angels.

“Orlando, where have you been?” the blue-armoured Blood Angel asked. “Priam made it, but you never arrived!”

“We stopped off early to slay some Khornates,” Orlando answered. “We linked up with a team of xenos, and tried fighting our way to you. I suppose we got… lost amidst the battle. I’m sorry.”

General Fogey walked over to Flash and Twilight.

“I say, jolly good seeing the both of you here,” he said. “It’s been an absolutely frightful day, and knowing you’re safe, Princess, does my old heart a world of…”

A loud, mechanical rumbling silenced the conversations which had been springing up among the victorious Blood Angels and ponies. It was a whirring of gears, a clanking of metal, and the rumbling of alien machinery.

“No…” Domenico said. “No!”

“What is it? What’s coming?” Twilight asked, his wings shaking nervously.

Around the corner came a massive metal monstrosity. As big as a cottage, with huge rubber treads, it rumbled towards them. It was unadorned, save for the yellow-and-black bars painted on a small part of its sides. Two pairs of long, lance-like weapons were mounted on its sides, and a double-barreled weapon was emplaced in the centre. Even at this distance, Flash could see the toughness of its armour. It was a monster of battle, a nightmare given machine form.

Beside Flash Sentry, the blue-armoured Blood Angel gave a name to this new terror.

“Land Raider!”

Author's Notes:

Yes, I chose to retain Pinkie’s 4th Wall-breaking powers even in the grim darkness of the future.

Oh, and I actually did that to a Helbrute once. Deep struck a suicide melta squad behind him, fired one, and boom! It exploded.

For those who don’t know (which will be the overwhelming majority of you), the term “Sons of Mitch’s” is a reference to the 1937 General motors strike in Oshawa. The Premier of Ontario (Mitchell Hepburn) sent a volunteer police force in to break up the strike, and this was one of their nicknames. I figured Red Ensign would have some knowledge of the local equivalent.

Also, the stats I bet none of you were expecting.

HQ:

Fluttershy, the Element of Kindness, 70 points

Fluttershy, the Element of Kindness: WS2 BS2 S3 T3 W2 I3 A2 Ld5 Sv-

Unit Type: Jetbike

Unit Composition: 1 (unique)

Special Rules: Pegasi Wings, Element of Harmony, Independent Character, Hit and Run, Fleet

Element of Kindness: grants 5+ Feel No Pain to attached squad or any model with the Element of Harmony special rule within 12”. If the model receiving FNP from this rule already has FNP, this rule increases that FNP by 1

Friend of Discord: an army which takes Fluttershy as an Elites Choice may take Discord, the Avatar of Chaos as a Lord of War choice

The Stare: once per game, during any phase of the controlling player’s turn, Fluttershy can use The Stare on her opponents. All enemy squads or units within 12” of Fluttershy, the Element of Kindness must make a Leadership test at –2 Leadership or be Entranced until the end of their controlling player’s next turn. While Entranced, these squads cannot move, shoot, run, charge, use psychic powers, or fire overwatch, and fight in Close Combat at -1 Initiative (to a minimum of 1).