Montross ducked under the ork hammer and thrust upwards with a fallen Guardsman's bayonet. The steel blade slipped between two ragged armor plates and plunged deep into the ork's chest. An anguished cry rose from the gutted monster before it keeled over and into the crowded melee one story down. A second Ork rounded the corner and he fired a burst into its face. The ork gurgled and collapsed in a heap by the stairwell. As he wiped off gore and dust from his uniform, his vox-carrier tapped him on the shoulder.
"Sir, we are being overrun. We don't have enough men to hold this position." The man broke off and picked up a fallen stick grenade. He lobbed it back into the ork throng and was rewarded by the sound of screaming orks and burning flesh. "Phosphorus, nice."
Montross paused and fired his pistol clip into the massed ranks of orks below. "Sound the retreat. As soon as the men clear I'll detonate the charges. Have them regroup at the bridge entra-"
The Guardsman covering the stairway disappeared under a sea of green flesh. Somehow the soldier managed to unpin his grenades before being hacked apart by the crude ork blades. Montross threw his lasgun blade first into the orks on top of him. The bayonet pierced a grenade pouch and stuck deep into a cluster of grenades. The resulting explosion lifted Montross off of his feet and hurled him onto the street below. He landed with a thud on his left arm. Chunks of flesh and bones splattered all around him, soaking his once-pristine uniform.
A squad of Guardsmen huddled around Montross and helped him to his feet. Nursing his bruised arm, he met their anxious gazes with a cool and steady eye. They were all scared. "Pull back to the bridge." He said, sounding as calm as if he was out on a stroll in the park. "What happened to Hillern? I need to contact HQ."
One of the Guardsmen pointed shakily behind Montross. Turning around, he saw the headless corpse of the vox-caster lying in a pool of blood and brains. The sight nearly made him gag. He had seen worse before but something about the sight made his stomach turn in disgust. "Never mind," he said, trying to maintain a show of bravado for his men. "I'll send the men back personally. Go find defensive positions by the bridge."
The men saluted and hurried off. Before leaving one handed Montross a bag of pistol clips. He accepted the ammunition and waved the man off with a grateful smile. Montross watched them go before spinning on his heel to face the incoming horde. All across the 500 meter line his men were being overrun. Over four hundred men had started across the bridge; now there were about two hundred left. There were simply too many orks.
Grabbing his bullhorn, Montross flipped it on to full power and shouted as close to the receiver as he could "Fall Back! Back to the bridge! Pack and go boys." His voice sounded harsh and grating against the mike.
Clumps of men began to detach from the melee and trickle back to the bridge. The men fell back steadily, firing as they retreated. Some ran, others carried wounded. The unit's banner fluttered faintly in the breeze as a full squad guarded its retreat. They retreated steadily, defying the ork ranks. No less then four fell holding the banner aloft, but they stayed as steady as when they had started across the bridge. The sight filled Montross with pride.
Most of the men passing by weren't recognizable because of the gore and smoke. Still, Montross noticed several familiar faces. Isaac, Neilson, Mark, Richards… So many but so few. These were men he had grown up with. They all deserved better.
The vox-caster crackled beside Montross as it picked up a broadcast. Without taking his eyes off of the orks Montross reached over and picked it up. "Montross here."
The voice that came back was not reassuring. "This is Commissar Gorsk. What is your status?"
A handful of bullets skipped past Montross' feet, causing him to jump. "Things are pretty sporty down here, sir. When can we expect reinforcements?"
"Hold tight, Montross. You are on you own until-"
A luck shot snapped the wire connecting the mike to the vox. Montross cursed and raised his bolt pistol. The pistol barked twice and the ork fell just twenty feet away. It was time to fall back with the rest of his unit.
One lone Chimera sat at the mouth of the bridge. Only one had survived the trek across the bridge. Thirteen others lay smoking on the bridge. An overturned Leman Russ clogged up the bridge. There was no escape. This would be a last stand.
Montross climbed over a barricade and spun to face the orks. Not one ork could be seen. The air stank heavily of the orks, but they had all disappeared from view. He frowned darkly. That meant one thing; an all-out charge was coming. They didn't have enough men to stop the thousand some orks facing them.
An inquisitive Private peeked out over the barrier and whistled. "Man, do they clear out fast. I'd give anything for that to be permanent."
"So would we all." Neilson pushed the Private aside and placed an auto-cannon on the barrier. There was an ominous clack as the bolt slid into position. "They'll be a'coming, don't you worry."
As if on queue the whole ork force rose and leapt over the frontline barricades. They were uncountable. The ground shook as they advanced, baying loudly their war-cries. It was then that Montross became truly afraid.
Seventy lasrifles opened up as they came, taking down scores of them with each deadly volley. Still they came on. The auto-cannons heavy bolters belched lead into the ork ranks, cutting huge swaths in the charging mob. When they came close enough the men began lobbing grenades. Orks disintegrated as the shrapnel and fire ripped through them. The front ranks began to slow down as they stumbled and tripped over the massive clumps of dead. Montross emptied the last clip of his pistol and grabbed a demo charge. All along the line men followed his example. When he judged the distance to be right he primed it and hurled the charge and leapt away from the barricade.
The resulting chain of explosions deafened them. A solid inferno engulfed the barricade. The screaming rush of hot air pinned them all to the ground. The blast lasted for five seconds. Montross rose shakily, ears ringing. For a moment he thought that they had stopped the ork assault. Then the first green-skin hurdled the barricade.
Montross lashed out at the ork and caught it in the throat with his chainsword. The ork's head toppled off and it fell at his feet, giving him a full view of the incoming horde. Hundreds still remained on the other side of the barricade. They surged past the fire and crossed the barricade before most of the men could respond. Dozens of men fell screaming within seconds as the orks smashed into them. Montross picked up the ork's bolter and glanced around anxiously. His men were fighting desperately, but there were too many orks.
Bayonets clashed against axe-blades as the men struggled in their final fight. Neilson manned his position at the auto-cannon to the end until, overwhelmed, he detonated the ammunition and engulfed the nearby orks in flames. Isaac stood firm on top of the barricade wielding two chainswords and hacking apart every ork within reach. A rocket round finally caught him in the chest and threw him off of the barricade into a knot of orks, where it exploded, killing them all. Mark stayed loyally by Montross' side, covering his back and holding a dozen orks at bay with his pistol and an ork sword. He fell when two orks ripped him apart from both sides. Montross last saw Richards rallying the bolter crews. He single-handedly slew a brace of Nobz and an Ork Boss with his shotgun before succumbing to a hail of lead.
The Chimera opened up with its multiple guns, exacting vengeance on the orks. Three Guardsmen armed with flamers stood on top pouring plasma onto the orks below. Behind them stood a Guardsman with a melta-gun. He valiantly stood his ground and snapped off shot after shot at Ork Nobz and leaders. The barrel had overheated long ago and his hands had fused to the barrel as he did not let the gun rest. After every shot he bellowed out the name of one of his squadmates. Montross recognized him as Private First Class Gael. The Guardsman had lost his entire squad the day before when they went on patrol deep in the city. He was the only man out of thirteen to come back alive.
The melta-gun, fired one time too many, burst into flames in Gaels' hands. Montross watched in horror as the flames licked at the man and set his whole body on fire. Gael leapt off of the Chimera and tackled a Nobz, incinerating them both. The Nob must have been carrying a demo pack because it disintegrated as soon as Gael hit him. Everything within a five meter radius was consumed in flames by the explosion.
Montross clambered up the side of the Chimera and steadied the oversized bolter. He picked a clump of unengaged orks and yanked the trigger. An impressive stream of bullets tore through the orks and splayed their bodies out against the barricade. He calmly switched targets and began systematically mowing down clump after clump of the vile orks.
Only a handful of men were left. Two of the flamer-carrying men had fallen to ork bullets. Montross remorsefully shoved their bodies off of the Chimera and detonated the fuel packs. Each man took out a dozen orks when they went up. The third man refused to crouch down; instead he steadfastly remained at the head of the Chimera and cleared a path in front of the driver's hatch. Out of the throng came a sticky bomb, which latched onto his chest. The man screamed in anger and leapt into the orks ranks, finger still pumping on the trigger. Steaming gore splashed against Montross' cheek as the bomb erupted.
At Montross' order the Chimera pulled into third gear and began to rumble forward, crushing the orks underneath its treads. The crew members inside fired their small arms out of the hatches, taking down more orks than they could count.
The orks pushed each other aside as they scrambled to escape the advancing Chimera. Sandwiched between the barricade and the Chimera, many orks lost their nerve. The press of bodies reached the very edges of the bridge. Montross saw several orks fall off the bridge and plunge into the raging waters below. He couldn't keep his aim steady because of the constant jarring caused by the dead bodies. He finally resorted to firing blindly into the orks.
Suddenly Montross noticed a lone ork making is way through the throng. He had several old-fashioned RPG's on his back. Montross shouted a warning to his driver and struggled to take aim at the ork. He watched helplessly as his rounds bounced off a personal deflector shield. The ork calmly planted its feet and took aim at the Chimera. The ork waited until the Chimera was right on top of it before firing. The explosion threw Montross several feet into the air and he landed on the other side of the ruined tank. The last thing he saw before blacking out was the eyes of one of his dead sergeants staring unseeingly at him. They were accusing, and filled with pain.