This is a companion piece to the awesomeness that is Victory or Death, and introduces (sort of) my OC that VoD's author Knife Hand was so wonderfully agreeable to letting in the game. The Emperor commands you read go read it.

Oh, and I don't own Warhammer 40k, Sword Art Online, or any of the characters in Victory or Death other than Sgt Ryker and his squad. I just play in all their sandboxes.

To say Ryker was having a bad day would be an understatement. Of course, when you're trapped in the death game that is Warhammer 40,000 Apocalypse Online, you don't really have good days in the normal sense, but this was definitely outside of any definition of "normal". He was getting shot at, and the person responsible was (unfortunately, in his mind) on his side. And a Player. And a Commissar. And not even noticing the bodies at his feet – one of whom had been a Player. Not noticing the blood on his hands – from a fellow Player.

Snarling, he leveled his lasgun at another of these damned criminals stupid enough to not take cover. He got three shots off before autogun fire forced him back into cover. He did get to see the ganger collapse with a hole in his chest first, though.

There had been 24 of them when they'd first entered the warehouse, five Players and nineteen NPCs. Their fearless leader was a Sebastian-Yarrick-wannabe of a Commissar, with three Stormtrooper bodyguards, and completely failed to inspire any of the other Players by not fighting at the front. Ryker couldn't be bothered to remember his name, Regis or something.

They were accompanied by two Command Officers, both male, with five soldiers of their own in their squads, though whether they were Conscripts or full-fledged Guardsmen was – had been – up in the air. Their names were Markus and Sidon.

The only other player, aside from Ryker himself, was a fellow Infantry Commander named Jiani. She'd had three Guardsmen in her squad, as did Ryker, but unlike his, one of her squad had a plasma gun. She'd had a lot of things, and now she was lying against a crate, a red pool gathering under her from where he'd set her down after a lucky round had hit her just above the edge of her flak armor and exited out her back.

Ryker had had enough. This wasn't about winning anymore. It was about survival, everyone's survival. Even this bastard. As the Commissar rounded the corner towards Sidon's position, Ryker began broadcasting over his helmet's short-range vox and hoping someone was in range.

"To any receiving Imperial forces, this is Sergeant Ryker calling for reinforcements!"

Nothing was happening. In this game, that could be either a very good thing, or a sign that everything was about to hit the fan. Allegedly, there was a large gang that had taken up shop in this warehouse, and they needed to be eliminated before they became a problem. The Imperial Guard Captain who they'd received this mission from had said to expect heavy resistance, but so far, the Hand of the Emperor had yet to meet any.

The warehouse was beyond large, stacks of containers creating corridors wide enough for two Sentinels to walk side by side. They'd even seen a few unarmed and unarmored variants of the esteemed walker for use as cargo lifters. There didn't seem to be a pattern to the maze of crates and tanks, some passages stretching into the distance and others barely more than ten meters, with sharp turns that hid what was on the other side abundant as well as numerous dead ends.

As they moved forward, one Sentinel on point, with Jen's Sisters behind it, then Tona's squad and Neo, then Marias and her Sisters, the other Sentinel bringing up their six, they heard what sounded like gunfire, both las- and auto- before the vox crackled to life.

++ –receiving Imperial forces, this is Sergeant Ryker calling for reinforcements! ++ The sounds of fighting were much louder through the vox. ++ We have been cut off by heretic forces in the Warehouse, and have sustained multiple casualties! We need assistance! I say again, this is– ++

Sister Jenith, the leader of the Hand, put her hand to her helmet. "This is Sister Superior Jenith of the Hand of the Emperor. What is your status?"

Lasfire sounded through the vox. ++ Didn't copy! Say again! ++

"This is Sister Superior Jenith of the Hand of the Emperor. What is your status?"

++ We're under heavy fire by roughly three-zero hostiles in the Warehouse, more incoming! How copy? ++

"Three zero?"

"Thirty, and more on the way," Jen explained, "We copy, Sergeant. We're on our way."

++ Thank God! Can you provide an ETA? ++

Jen looked up at Sergeant Tona, who shrugged and held up both hands, fingers spread. "Ten minutes, at the most. Can you hold?"

++ We'll hold! We're bunkered down about five-zero meters from the service elevator! Passcode is– ++ An explosion reverberated through the link, punctuated by more small-arms fire. ++ Fuck! Passcode is Gambol Shroud! ++ With that, the vox cut out.

Jen gestured for their group to hurry. "Let's move!"

As they advanced closer to the sounds of fighting, they started coming across groups of gang members, almost all of them making their way towards the fight. They were easily dealt with. The members of the Hand came across what looked like a makeshift barricade, with a number of the gangers behind it, firing away at another haphazard barricade across the way. The Hand opened fire, las- and bolter-fire catching the criminals by surprise. The firefight was over in seconds.

There were five figures at the other barricade, weapons still pointed at the Hand's end. Jen held up a hand as they approached.

"Friendlies!"

"Passcode?" One of the five, in the ubiquitous olive-green flak of the Imperial Guard called out. The figure standing at the back, in what looked like the black overcoat of the Commissariat looked like he was just realizing something.

"Gambol Shroud!"

The Guardsman stood and turned to his companions. Two of the others, also in flak armor, stood and moved out of sight behind the crates in a hurry.

Jen approached the remaining haggard-looking Guardsman. "Sergeant Ryker?"

The Guardsman shook his head. "Apologies, no time to explain. We're still experiencing significant pressure from the gangers."

Though, that didn't last for too much longer. With the Hand of the Emperor easily doubling their numbers – and the added bonus of having a pair of Sentinels on your side – the gangers were far outmatched. After the fighting was over, the unknown Commissar approached. He looked young.

"Commissar Regis. Thank you for your assistance, Sister. We have the situation under control now."

Jen removed her helmet and clipped it to her belt. "Didn't you call for reinforcements?" she pointed out. The Commissar's lips curled with disgust.

"I did no such thing, nor did I order for it to be done."

"No, sir, I did," a sturdily built man just behind Regis spoke up. He looked worn-out and fed up. Helmet- and weaponless, he snapped to attention, back straight, fists along the seams of his fatigue trousers, heels together, feet spread at an angle, "Sergeant Ryker, ma'am. Thank you for responding so quickly."

"I gave strict orders to maintain vox silence," Commissar Regis seethed. Sgt Ryker crossed his arms and returned the glare.

"And you can shove your vox protocols up your ass. We need their help, and you know it."

The sergeant and the Commissar were scowling at each other, each waiting for the other to look away first. With a sigh, the Commissar did, but only to turn to Sister Jen.

"You'll have to excuse my subordinate, Sister. He's undisciplined and tactless."

The sergeant rolled his eyes and came back to attention looking at Sister Jen. "You'll have to excuse my superior, ma'am," he parroted drolly, "He's got a forest up his ass, and could get lost on an empty landing pad."

Regis turned to berate the sergeant when autofire erupted. Everyone took cover as those who had removed helmets replaced them and began to return fire, Ryker excluded, as his helmet and weapon were not within easy reach. An unidentified Guardsman slid into cover from outside the barricade, a limp figure draped over his shoulder.

"Black! Report!" Ryker shouted. The Guardsman reacted to the call instantly.

"Unknown hostiles!" This "Black" relied, "Two-One and Yellow were behind me!"

Ryker peered over his crate and cursed. "Shit! Two-One's been hit!" he yelled as Sidon went down. Another Guardsman slid into cover next to "Black", dropping his own body he'd been carrying. "Suppressive fire!"

The two Guardsman responded at the same time, standing up and firing their lasguns at full auto. As they did, Ryker vaulted over the crate he'd used for cover and sprinted for one of the two prone forms lying in the open, one of whom was firing back. Picking him up in a fireman's carry, the sergeant stopped behind their lines only long enough to hand the wounded Player off to the medic in the newcomer's squad and grab his lasgun before charging back out, firing his weapon, before sprinting back with the other body.

Ryker was panting as he dropped back against a crate with a clack. That was stupid. Why had he done that? Sure, getting Sidon had been important, but still. He could've done that just as easily and with a lot less risk if he'd waited until the gangers were dead.

Someone kicked the bottom of his boot, and he opened his eyes to see Black offering his hand. "By the Throne, Sergeant, you got a death wish?"

Taking the offered hand, Ryker got to his feet. Instantly, he stalked over to where the Sister and the Commissar were talking. Regis was denying that they needed any help, even though the Sister was calmly insisting that they weren't going to make it on their own. When he reached them, he shoved Commissar Regis, interrupting the Sister.

"This is your fault! You've got your head stuck on this idea of 'victory or glorious martyrdom'! You think this is still a game!" He could see Regis's one remaining Stormtrooper level his Hellgun at him, but he didn't care. "A Player died in that ambush, another one just dodged that fate, almost all our men are gone, and you still refuse to back down! There's a time for last stands, but this isn't one of them!"

Regis bristled. "We are the Hammer of the Emperor!" he shot back, "Our duty is to die in His name if need be-"

"Marlon." Ryker had his arms crossed, his face completely composed, a sharp contrast from earlier.

Regis was caught off-guard. "What?"

Ryker continued as if Regis hadn't said anything. "Gerris. Elic. Vesta. Hastat. Ilitath. Rendon. Pavel. Kris. Dener. Balkin. Ren. Weber. Jiani."

Regis opened his mouth, but Ryker cut him off. "You know why I'm pulling quests with second-line players? Because I wanted to do my part to keep as many names as possible off of my list. So I took time to train other Players, train my men, beyond what was provided on Cadmian. This is our reality now. You need to learn that quickly, or you're not going to make it out."

The Commissar looked between the sergeant and Jen a couple of times before turning and walking away, towards the center of their makeshift outpost. A female trooper approached them then, a helmet in her hand.

"You're scary when you get quiet like that, Sergeant," she said with a small smile as she handed him the helmet, "At least in training we knew what to expect if we kept pissing you off."

Ryker snorted as he put his helmet back on. "You did. I swear, Artyom was just about cry every time I even glared in his direction."

He came to attention facing Jen once more, the female trooper a second behind him as she realized what her sergeant was doing. "I'm sorry you had to see that, ma'am. I really hate having to be the grown-up sometimes. Mostly when I have to be someone's parent."

Jen just nodded. "I know the feeling." She looked around the temporary safe zone they'd carved out before turning back to the sergeant. "What's the situation?"

"It's a mess, ma'am," Sgt Ryker sighed, moving to stand at parade rest, hands clasped behind his back, his feet about shoulder-width apart, "Two Player casualties, one KIA. Thirteen NPC casualties, all KIA. Everyone's tired, though we're set on ammo for a while. My squad is the only squad in any sort of condition for operations; Markus and Sidon are down to one Guardsman each, and Commissar Ass-Wipe's one last Stormtrooper isn't very helpful unless said ass-wipe is in the fight, which he rarely is."

Jen decided she was going to ignore the blatant disrespect for the Commissar for now. "Any intel on what to expect on the second floor?"

Ryker shook his head. "We got hit almost right off the service elevator. Everyone's favorite Yarrick-wannabe walked us right into an ambush."

It was at this point Neo apparently decided he'd had enough. "Got any other glowing compliments for the Commissariat?" The sarcasm dripping from his voice could've filled a small pond.

Ryker leveled a calculating stare at him. "I would follow Ibram Gaunt into the Eye of Terror and back. You're not Ibram Gaunt, unfortunately." He crossed his arms across his chest and sighed. "I've given every other Commissar Player the benefit of the doubt, I guess it's your turn. You get one shot."

Neo sneered. "How generous."

Ryker snorted derisively before he heard the sniggering of the small Asian and shot her a curious look.

"Sergeant Tona," she introduced, by way of explanation.

Ryker nodded in greeting before pulling out a lho-stick pack and a zippo lighter. Turning back to the main group, he started to light a stick when the guardsman behind him grabbed his arm.

"I thought you weren't going to smoke on-mission, Sergeant?" she remarked pointedly. The two stared each other down for several moments before Ryker shoved the pack and lighter back into an empty magazine pouch on his belt a little harder than was probably necessary.

"Orders, ma'am?" he asked, half-turning towards Jen. She looked up at Rock, just returned from scouting out the path to the elevator.

"We're clear," he called down from his Sentinel.

"Five minutes. Rendezvous at the service elevator."

"Aye aye, ma'am."

Go read Victory or Death. And review, please. I like hearing what people think about my writing.