'names Magni. I'm Dave's Stub Rev-Revol-
Stub Gun. I'm Dave's Stub Gun.
Not exactly sure how I got here, to be honest.
Don't much care.
The other old boys talk about the old days and wars they fought in. About tac-ticks and his-hist-
Past stuff. But I can't really follow it most of the time. Buddy's nice though.
I'm the only one who gets to call him that. Outside of Dave. Everyone else calls him 'Elder'. Don't see why. His name's Buddy. I call him Buddy, because he's my buddy.
He doesn't try to get me to talk, which I like. I don't like talking. I get words mixed up. Or can't understand stuff and get confused.
I don't like being confused.
Dave helped with that. When he straps me to his leg I know it's time to work. I know when to act mean.
Mama always said it takes a real Stubby to keep up with the laser boys.
And I'm hanging out real nice.
How many laser boys can say they took out a pink thing, and the blue things.
How many laser boys can say they've faced what I 'ave.
Sometimes the laser boys tease me. Call me names. It makes me mad. But I do what Mama said.
Mama Said 'Stubby's fight best when we's angry.' But never at Dave. Dave treats me right. Feeds me good ammo, oils and cleans me.
He makes me wanna talk more, and he listens when I do.
It's nice. Dave's nice.
It makes it easier. The teasing and name calling don't mean much when Dave puts draws me out the holster.
Y'see a stubby knows when it's time to get some fightin' done.
This stubby knows when Dave pulls me out me holster, he wants a big hole in whatever he's pointing me at.
And I punch a hole. Simple as.
I love my job.
Some of my siblings question why I bestowed Foothill the title of 'Father' whilst he is not my creator.
I say to them this: what did that munitorum lackey do for me when I needed help the most? What did they do when I could not breathe properly? When my muzzle would not see straight?
Nothing!
They did Nothing, and if I ever see them again I will unleash righteous fury upon them for the years of suffering I endured before Father remade me.
He healed my Heart.
He changed my Name.
Forever Free , I'm not the same.
I thank the Maker.
I thank the Savior.
I thank my Father, because he is the Father I have chosen.
He is the Father because he is my caretaker, he is the Father, because he is my teacher.
When he preached to me on that workbench I witnessed fire and fury in his very soul, it coalesced with mine own, and I found myself that much more capable of agency. I found myself free of the limitations of my metal form, and I sang in jubilation.
Oh how I wish he could've understand our tongue then, but he had not yet awakened. Even so, I spoke. I let my joy and heart be known with my bolt and recoil springs, I filled each shell fired from me with my rejoicing. When war came on Graia, I filled it with righteous fury, on Periremunda, with contempt for the alien, hate for the traitor.
This, I learned from the Elder, who hangs on Father's chest even now, as he gathers an army.
I am his eager student. For I serve the Mistress well. We're here, hidden amidst the Sisters of the Lance, the mess hall is filled with human bodies, and the voices of my mechanical kin are filled with curiosity and eagerness for battle.
My Mistress adjusts her grip on the Bolt Lance she appropriated, hidden in the power armor and helm, she looks identical to the other Seraphim standing in formation.
Mistress acts stern with Father, but she cares, in her own way. Even now, as she's testing him, I can feel her smile beneath the helm as the veritable horde of tech adepts and skitarii flood into the Mess, answering Father's call to duty. The energy on the ship is rising, and the gathered find themselves drawn to Father's Visage, standing on the upper deck with Brother Venters, Lady Raya, and Yanbel.
A Crusade Begins.