Agora, Hypatia City, 992.M41
Myka was a thief and a scavenger. He had been born to a pair of Chaos devotees some twenty-six years ago in the outskirts of Hypatia City, near the ruins of the Old North Wall and the Garden of Bones. Twenty years ago, the Iron Warriors who ruled the planet had called for recruits to join their glorious crusade against the slaves of the False Emperor and Myka's parents had been among those who eagerly volunteered to go, sparing not a thought for their young son that they were leaving behind. They never returned from this crusade and nor did the Iron Warriors nor any of the other millions who had left for hope of glory. Heavily depopulated and without the Iron Warriors who had ruled for a century, the planet Agora fell into anarchy and Myka had to turn to crime to survive.
Now, he crept through the Garden of Bones, the remnant from the legendary battle that had liberated Hypatia City from the slaves of the False Emperor. All around him, stretching from one end of the Old North Wall to the other, bones were scattered. By now, the bulk of the bodies at the top had been picked clean of valuables by a century of other scavengers but those who had the stomach and the patience to dig through the bones could find some very valuable items to sell on the black market, so long as the local militia did not catch the one doing the scavenging.
Myka wiped the sweat from his brow as he held a femur in one hand. He tossed the femur aside and pushed aside some more bones, determined to find the treasures buried below. He took his small, circular metal detector from his pocket and activated it to make sure it had not made a mistake initially. It beeped frequently and he grinned. There was definitely something below, not too deep. He noticed some scraps of red cloth clinging to some of the bones as he rumaged through them and tossed them aside, though this was not unusual. He picked up a skull which was missing its lower jaw, a great deal of damage to the teeth and the area which would connect to the lower jaw if it was still there. On the forehead of this skull, an eight-pointed star was engraved and he smiled at the icon of the dark gods. He slipped the skill into his jacket and continued digging. As he cleared space, he saw a large pile of smaller bones, ribs, arms, legs and he shrugged, plunging his hands into the pile.
"Fuck!" He gasped as something jagged and sharp in the pile opened up his right hand. He withdrew both hands and looked at the wounded extremity, a long, deep gash starting between his index and middle finger and running down halfway the back of his hand, blood oozing from the wound. He winced and looked uneasily at the offending pile of bones, taking out his metal detector and activating it as he held it above the bones. It beeped more furiously than ever before and he reluctantly began to move the bones away, digging slowly until a jagged black piece of metal jutted from the bones, glistening with Myka's blood which coated some of the other bones. Myka looked up, realising he had dug himself into a rather deep hole by this point, one which would be difficult to climb out of. He sighed and began to unearth the metal. Soon, shape began to form and it became apparent that the metal was a part of a helmet. He kept digging until the entire helmet was exposed to the cold air.
It was a helm that completely covered the head, jet black though the paint had slightly faded. There was a fierce looking steel grille set below two dim red lenses, one of which was cracked. There was a large tear in the top of the helmet, with the jagged metal around it being responsible for Myka's injury and this tear also being the likely cause of the crack in one lens. Myka had seen a helmet like this before, on display in a locked glass case belonging to one of the men Myka usually sold his procurements to. The man, who was called Joel, had called it a Space Marine helmet belonging to the cowardly slaves of the False Emperor who had stood in the way of the Iron Warriors who had liberated Agora a century ago before flying away like scared birds the moment they faced the full might of the Iron Warriors.
Myka grasped the helmet firmly and pulled it off. Underneath was a skull which had a large gash in it directly beneath the tear in the helmet, likely what had killed the man who wore it. He could also see the top of a gorget below this skull and he grinned. The helmet alone would likely keep him fed for a month if sold to the right buyer, but if an entire suit of Power Armour was right there, he would be set for life. He began to climb out of the hole he had dug with some difficulty, clutching the helmet under his right arm as he fumbled through the loose bones, sending some down to the bottom as he ascended. After a few moments of struggling, he was back at the top. He wiped the dust off of him and looked around, trying to think of a way to ensure nobody else found this. Eventually, he shrugged and decided he would just gather some friends to help him unearth the entire body later and split the profits with them. He looked at the gap in the ruined wall that he had come through into the city before him and ran towards it. Even within the wall there were a handful of skeletons though nowhere near as many as outside and not one of them still had any valuables on them, so he ignored them and ran back into the streets.
The streets were quiet, blasted and ruined. It was well past the curfew established by the militia in control of the city and Myka would no doubt be shot on sight if he were caught, so he took care to avoid any major roads and streets, instead sticking to back alleys and side streets as he wove through the city to his own little hovel. Finally, after two near-misses with militia patrols, he reached his home, a small alcove in a wall in the slums, one amongst hundreds of others, covered by a tarpaulin wall he had set up for privacy. He ducked in and collapsed onto his sleeping bag, hugging the helmet tightly to his chest as he shut his eyes and smiled.
His eyes shot open several hours later as yells and screams filled the air. He looked around in a daze, the helmet still in his arms, his hand covered in dried blood. He poked his head out of his alcove and looked around. Several dozen militamen were sweeping through the street, hundreds of civilians running away from them in terror as they fanned out. But something seemed odd to Myka, this was not some attack on civilians and not a single shot had been fired. They were taking defensive positions. One soldier ran up to Myka's alcove and shoved him into it, scrambling in after him and gripping his autogun tightly, an eight-pointed star hanging on a chain around his neck. He took this now and kissed it, whispering a profane prayer to the dark gods.
"What's happening?" Myka asked, still holding the helmet.
"They've come." The militiaman whispered, terror gripping his voice. "The slaves of the False Emperor." As he spoke, a high pitched shrieking sound filled the air and Myka glanced out of his alcove again. The pitch black sky was lit up by numerous dark shapes that left bright, orange contrails behind them as they plummeted for the ground. One of them grew larger and larger and Myka realised it was going to land incredibly close just as the militaman grabbed him by the shoulder and dragged him back into the alcove.
"By all the dark gods, what the hell do you think you're doing?" The militiaman hissed. "Stay hidden and you will live a little longer, you fool!"
"I'm sorry, I..." Myka said, trailing off as the ground shook with an ear-splitting crash. He staggered, his face slamming into the hard bricks of the wall of his alcove, his nose shattering and blood spraying from it. There was another crashing sound and heavy, metal footsteps met Myka's ears as the sounds of gunfire filled the air, the cracking of autoguns, the sounds of bullets bouncing off metal and the deafening roar of some new weapon Myka had never before heard. Screams of terror and agony filled the air and moments later, the tarpaulin cover to Myka's alcove was torn free. Before him and the militaman stood a terrifying sight, a titanic figure clad in jet black power armour with a scarlet trim, a helmet virtually identical to the one Myka held in his arms. This figure carried an enormous rifle, larger than any weapon Myka had seen before, steel grey in colour and with a muzzle half the size of Myka's head. The giant before them leveled the gun.
"Please, mercy!" Myka shrieked, holding the helmet up before him to act as a shield while shutting his eyes and turning his head away.
"For the Dark Gods!" The militaman screamed, his voice shrill and cracking as he opened fire with his autogun. A deafening roar filled the alcove and the militaman screamed, hitting the ground next to Myka. Myka opened his eyes and to his horror, saw the militiaman, dead on the ground, his head reduced to a jagged mess of bone, blood and brains and liquified eyeballs and chunks of bone all splayed out in a puddle of gore around it, a massive hole in the man's chest with blood gushing out. There was silence for a moment before that deafening roar filled the air again and Myka felt numerous enormous projectiles tearing into his abdomen, exploding soon after. He was dead before he hit the ground.
Captain Tragun Vorlornce of the Power Marines Third Company looked around the blasted and ruined city around him as the first rays of the morning sun began to stretch out across it. The night had been bloody, with elements of the Power Marines First, Second, Third, Eighth and Tenth companies led by Chapter Master Yariel Anties himself all descending upon Hypatia City and wreaking bloody havoc upon the militia controlling the city as well as the chaos-tainted civililians populating it. Now, as the fighting continued all throughout the city, Tragun had been summoned to meet Yariel in the city square to discuss recent events.
He strode into the rubble-strewn city square. There were a dozen space marines there, Captain Helios, Captain Avery, two veteran sergeants and eight battle brothers, some with the gold trim of the second company and others with the scarlet trim of the third. In addition, Inquisitor Drolge stood, half a dozen storm troopers at his back, a servo skull and two cherubim floating above him. One cherub held a long, yellowed piece of parchment and a quill pen, furiously documenting the events around it. The other floated, eerily silent, a short gun barrel poking from its mouth and green targeting lenses for eyes.
"Greetings, brother." Helios called to Tragun. Tragun nodded and approached the captain of the Second Company. "I trust all has gone well for you?"
"In a sense. Zero casualties so far, but against a lightly armed peasant's militia, I would expect no more. It would seem we wasted our time in coming to this planet." Tragun said.
"Indeed. Still, it was not worth the risk that the traitors had sought refuge on this world." Helios said. Tragun nodded.
"Yariel has been quite... Driven, since Orion died." He commented. Indeed, the Chapter Master had been taking great measures to try and bring the traitorous Crau Gann to justice for his crimes. Every time even a whisper of the Iron Warriors or the forces of Chaos met the ears of the Power Marines, Yariel would be loathe to not take a force to eliminate the heretics with extreme prejudice and it was only a matter of time before Agora, the planet the Iron Warriors had used as a staging point to attack the Isphyda System twenty years ago, would be hit by the Power Marines, regardless of whether or not Dulenti and Crau had actually fled there.
"Speak of the devil." Helios said, pointing behind Tragun. He turned and saw the Chapter Master approaching. Tragun raised a hand in greeting and Yariel nodded curtly to him, reaching up and removing his helmet. Tragun frowned, examining Yariel closely. He had not met Yariel face to face in some time and the Chapter Master looked... Tired. There were dark circles under his eyes, a thick coating of stubble on his gaunt and haggard pale face. His blue eyes, once so full of fire, were dim and bleak.
"Greetings, brothers." Yariel said wearily. "Inquisitor." Drolge nodded as his cherub took notes. "It would seem our quarry is not on this world. There is little civilisation beyond this city, just militias and bandits, they would not take refuge amongst that."
"No, indeed." Drolge said, his voice soft and silky. "Heretics seldom ignore the promise of... Grandeur." He commented, sneering at the ruined city around them.
"I propose we return to orbit once the city has been purged and bombard the planet from orbit." Helios said. "There is nothing more for us here but ghosts and heathens."
"Ghosts indeed." Yariel murmured. "I was here when the city fell, you know. I was just an assault marine then. I fought on the north wall when the Iron Warriors came by the thousands. They threw themselves at the wall with reckless abandon. We kept gunning them down and they just kept coming. Eventually, the bodies piled up so high it made a ramp to the top of the wall, which the Iron Warriors simply walked up."
"It sounds like quite a battle." Tragun commented. He had heard of the fall of Agora before, though it had never intersted him enough to look deeply into.
"It was. But in any case, I agree with Helios. There is no point in searching the rest of the planet, if the traitors aren't in Hypatia then they aren't on Agora."
"I suppose that's our last lead gone, then." Tragun said, sighing. Helios shook his head.
"Not our last lead. Whispers of a sorcerer plaguing a convent of the Sororitas in the next sector." The captain explained.
"Likely not our man." Yariel said. "But worth investigating." As he spoke, the vox crackled, though Tragun could not access it. It was a private line to Yariel, from the Armageddon in orbit.
"Chapter Master, there's a private line to you, from orbit." Helios said.
"Hmm? Oh, I see." Yariel said, putting his helmet on. They stood in silence as Yariel conversed privately with whoever was on the other end of the line, waiting for their Chapter Master's word. Soon, he removed his helmet again, looking to the captains wearily. "A distress signal from a world not far from here. They've been hit by Eldar raiders."
"Are we going to do anything about it?" Tragun asked. Yariel shook his head.
"Not worth our time." He replied. Tragun was somewhat stunned, but he managed to compose himself before speaking.
"With all due respect, brother, I disagree. There are people who need help and it's possible we're the only ones close enough to provide it." Tragun argued.
"Do not answer back to your Chapter Master, insubordination is a vice which leads to heresy." Drolge said.
"Peace, Inquisitor. My chapter is not the Ordo Hereticus, I encourage free thinking among my brothers." Yariel said, a ghost of a smile touching his lips.
"Free thinking is also a vice which leads to heresy." Drolge replied without missing a beat. Helios sniggered, looking away.
"I respectfully disagree." Yariel said, turning away from Drolge. "Why do you propose we help them, Tragun?"
"Well, this sorcerer... As you say, it's likely not the one we're looking for and besides, you'll have help from that convent of the Sororitas if it comes to violence." Tragun replied.
"What are you suggesting?" Yariel asked, folding his arms across his chest and frowning.
"I'm suggesting we can spare the men." Tragun said. "I'd happily go myself if that's required and if it turns out to be a complete waste of time, I'll rejoin you and apologise profusely." Yariel stood in silence for a long time, deep in thought. Nobody dared to interupt him, instead content to wait for his word. Finally, the Chapter Master sighed and spoke.
"Very well. Since this sorcerer is likely not what we're looking for and because there are people undoubtably unable to aid themselves and who are in desperate need of assistance from the Emperor's Finest," Yariel said, smiling softly. "I will permit you to take your company and a detachment of tanks to deal with these Eldar."
"Thank you, brother." Tragun said, smiling. "And thank you especially for granting me tanks. I do love tanks."
"If it's all the same, I should like to accomany Captain Tragun." Drolge said. Tragun frowned.
"Why?" He and Yariel asked at the same time. Drolge shrugged.
"Watching you chase your tail across the sector to hunt down a traitor you clearly do not know the location of in a vain attempt to prove your purity to the Ordo Hereticus is growing dreadfully boring. I should like to see a company of your chapter in action against real enemies. I can judge you better in such a manner." Drolge replied. Though he had requested to join, the tone he took in this statement made it very clear that he would be going whether or not his request was accepted.
"Very well." Yariel said. "You may accompany Captain Tragun."
"Splendid. So, shall we be off? I've already had enough of this miserable rock to last three lifetimes, let's bombard it and get moving." Drolge said. Tragun's eye twitched as he realised that he was in for a long, rough road ahead.