Author's Note: Hey everybody. Sorry I haven't uploaded in a long time but I've had a lot on my plate. Back to school a week Monday so expect more regular updates then. I've seen a lot of these stories around and I really like them so I thought I'd give my own a shot. I thought up the character names myself (except for my friend's characters which have their real names) but if your story has the same character names I am sorry and it is completely coincidental. This will NOT be updated regularly. Anyway, ENJOY!

"Yo dude, you free? Yeah, my step dad is moaning at me to get out the house. You serious?! Alright, catch you later. Bye. Bye." I hung up on my friend. I'd been trying to organise a game of Warhammer 40k with him for a few weeks. We had unfinished business as in the last game, his Necron Doomsycthe exploded in the second from last turn and brought down my Valkyrie on its debut. I plugged my phone in to charge and headed up to bed; my parents were out of town so I could sleep when I wanted but I felt too tired. I strolled into my bedroom, closing the window since a cold and bitter wind froze me down to my bones.

"By the Emperor, It's cold!" exclaimed a voice to my right.

"Amen to that." I replied, thinking nothing of it. As I snuggled into the blankets, I swear I could hear the faint grumble of an engine.

It was at that point that I thought about the voice. I turned on my bedside lamp, only to be confronted by the barrel of a Baneblade super heavy tank. "What the fu-" The headboard exploded into splinters behind me as I shifted my head right. "Motherfucker!" I leapt out of my bed and into the sights of every weapon ever designed by the Imperium: from Basilisk artillery barrels and Hyrda flak guns down to lasguns and laspistols. I yelled the first thing that came to my head: "By the Emperor, what the HELL are you doing in my house!" That seemed to confuse them.

Whispers of "Is he imperial?" and "Does he support the Empire?" emanated from the crowd. A small jeep drove toward me from the crowd and 3 officers dismounted and the one with more medals than I'd ever seen spoke to me using a vox caster. "You there, Titan, be you a supporter of the most holy Emperor?"

"My name is Tom, not Titan, and duh." I gestured to the many 40k posters adorning my walls (I'm a bit nerdy like that), specifically the majority of them which happened to show the God Emperor. The 3 spoke quietly to one another before the one (presumably) in charge resumed our conversation.

"We see that you are just, Titan. My name is Governor Militant Anderson. This is Commissar Reginald and he is Captain Westfield." The 2 officers behind him saluted.

Towards my bedroom door, a shout went up of "Xenos! At our rear!" Thousands of guardsmen did an about-turn and leveled their guns at the door way. I picked up my crappy Nerf rifle to lend them a hand.

I muttered to myself "Don't be Orks. Please don't be Orks." And then gauss fire raked my carpet. 'Fuck!' Necrons are the second worst!

Another Guardsmen Squad went down to gauss fire from the tide of metallic warriors that were the Necrons. Doomscythes and Valkyries engaged in deadly dogfights throughout the skies. Wraiths were crushed under the tracks of Leman Russ Battle Tanks who fired barrages of shells at the opposition. Alas, for every Necron that was gunned down another five took its place. The only thing holding back the tide was 'The Emperor's Fist,' a plank I pulled free from my bed frame and that I was mercilessly crushing the Necrons with. As I looked on, my pride and joy, a Valkyrie I dubbed 'Victory' went down in a ball of flames. Like in every game I played against my friend's Necrons, it didn't go down to enemy fire, but a shot down Necron flyer crashing into it on its plummet to the ground. Funnily enough, the first time this happened we were actually working together against his brother! 'Victory' had been brought down more times by friendly fire or pure bad luck than it had been brought down from the opposition's guns. I smile inwardly at the memory before Wraiths started clawing at my feet. I few quick blows quickly dispatched them. I had to focus, there was a battle going on in my bedroom after all…

Captain Westfield's POV

I stood up from behind the low cover of the sandbags long enough to fire off a few rounds from my las-pistol before ducking behind them again. We were slowly pushing the Necrons back but we were losing many lives. Even as I was thinking this, another Chimera exploded into the air before landing upside down thanks to another swarm of scarabs. The Chimera I was in only moments ago! But before the scarabs could move onto the next tank, a Valkyrie with 'Victory' etched on the side crashed down into them. Praise the Emperor! In all my years serving as a guardsman, I have never known such an unlucky gunship as the 'Victory.' No matter how good the pilot was, it never landed unscratched. Still, like now, it had its uses. Suddenly, I saw a Necron warrior stand I on the sandbags I was taking cover behind and I saw his gun level at my head.

I don't know what made me do it. I don't know if it was some sixth sense or sheer dumb luck but I slid just a millimetre lower as something massive passed over my head from behind me by a tiny distance that I didn't even think was possible. The Necron warrior about to end my life wasn't so lucky. He shattered to almost nothing from the impact from the hulking mass of the 'Emperor's Fist.' The Titan had saved my life! But considering how he nearly took it at the same time I might have lashed out a tad too harshly.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! YOU NEARLY TOOK MY BLOODY HEAD OFF!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. He replied in a calm, almost relaxed voice.

"You're welcome."

My cheeks reddened a few shades as I realised that I may have over-reacted. Oh well. There will be time for apologies later. At least, if we lived that long…

Tom's POV

After saving the captain's life, I watched on as a commissar executed one of his own men to help his troops stand firm. In a game it was practical, but when witnessed in real life it was just barbaric. I definitely don't envy the guardsmen one bit. I don't feel any differently about my small core of Space Wolves – my original army. The blood thirsty Fenrisian wolves braved oncoming gauss fire to close the distance between them and their prey and the young, reckless Blood Claws charged with equal feral rage. Only the wise old Long Fangs held their ground and ruthlessly gunned down the incoming tide of Necrons. I have also two Imperial Knights in my army which I decided to paint in the colours of House Lannister and House Stark on a whim. My House Lannister knight was a bright shining figure of holy imperial firepower. My House Stark knight was having some power issues on the frontline as the head had been shot to the point where it (ironic) fell off. Slowly, we were pushing the Necrons back. As victory began tilting into our favour, something strange happened: all of the Necrons suddenly stopped what they were doing and de-activated. Some kind of standby mode? Confused, I looked over to the gathering of the commanders to see if they knew why this happened. Of course, I can't deny that I was pissed off to see them all bickering among each other already. All of them except Captain Westfield that is. He looked just as agitated as I was.

'That's diplomacy for you' I thought.

They were all arguing amongst themselves, with the exception of Captain Westfield, that is. Governor-Militant Anderson and the Space Wolf captain looked ready to punch one another. The Commissar looked ready to execute half of the total Imperial Guard force, for morale. Captain Westfield stood off to the side, his head in his hands, frustrated at their petty arguments.

"Yo!" I yelled, grabbing everyone's attention. "Shut the fuck up!"

The room went silent in awe as I screamed at them. The Governor-Militant began to stammer something before I cut him off and yelled again.

"You're living in my fucking house so you're live by my fucking rules! Understand?"

Silence followed. The Imperial Guard looked extremely terrified. The Space Wolves stared in a respectfully silence: power was something they could respect. Though even if he was only a couple of inches tall, I still wouldn't take my chances against Logan Grimnar.

It wasn't long before the awe-ful silence was broken once more as a guardsmen yelled in alarm before screaming an inhuman scream as he died.

"For Chaos!" Someone yelled.

Shit. Looks like my small contingent of Word Bearers had been found. For the record, I am not a chaos player. I support the Imperium with everything I have. But, a long time ago, I read a 40k book called 'The First Heretic' and it followed the Word Bearers' fall from grace in the eyes of the Emperor and their journey to Chaos. I will admit, I was moved by their plight and started collecting a small Word Bearer force for a while, but I eventually came back to the eternal Emperor's light. I never got rid of my Word Bearers though. Now that fact was biting me in the ass. Literally. It took a few good swings before the little demon prince let go with his powerful jaw...

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Update (03/11/2015): Hi everyone! Bad news I'm afraid: My laptop is bust and I may have lost everything including the last chapter of GCA and it was big! So, sadly, I won't be writing for a while! I'm actually doing this from my school's computer! Sorry again but I'll make the next chapter MASSIVE up for it.

Update (22/09/2016): Hey guys, I know it has been so long but I finally have free time on my hands again and you'll be happy to know that I plan on updating my stories again! As you may have noticed, my grammar sucks so any help would be greatly appreciated! And I would just like to say thanks to cambalopales for the advice and thanks to eldarfan1 for the offer of help, it really means a lot! Updates soon!

Update (10/11/2016): Hey again, I'm re-writing this story to have longer chapters, so expect an increase in word count when this story eventually gets an update. Shouldn't be too long now. Sorry for the delay.