Trial and Error…and more Error
Disclaimer: this fic is based on materials created and owned by Games Workshop. Let it be said that I am not stealing anything, I am merely borrowing it and will return everything when I am done.
1
"Ok, so let me get this straight." Bryan yelled over the background noise of laser bolts and explosions. "A bunch of guys decided to keep their tax money from the emperor and used it to build a chapel dedicated to his religious cult instead."
"Yep." His friend and squad mate David replied.
"And this pissed someone off mighty fierce, fierce enough to send us here."
"Yep."
"And now we're here shooting up a bunch of loyal, defenseless monks and to collect on their dues."
"That pretty much sums it up."
"Ok, just making sure I got it straight." Bryan said, then stood up at the window they were crouched next to and fired another couple bursts from his lasgun at the robed figures, then knelt back down again.
"So wait a sec." He said to David. "Isn't what we're doing sacrilegious?"
"Yes and no."
"Really?" Bryan replied in a flat tone
"Really. The High Lords of Terra run the church and the system of government. So, if we are told by the government to attack the church, which is the government, then that's nothing more than a self inflicted wound, like a priest shooting himself in the foot. But if you look at it from that screaming legless guy's perspective, at your 3 o'clock, 50 yards out, I'd say he would think it's sacrilegious."
"So are we gonna be damned for this?"
David stood up next to the window, leveled his lasgun and fired one shot, stopping the screaming. He knelt back down and said: "To bad for the legless guy he isn't the one in charge here."
They both smiled like idiots for a second.
Welcome to the twisted Universe of Warhammer 40K, I'll be your host: Swissjak. As you can see, nothing on the battlefield makes any sense what so ever. We will follow the 3 amusing Imperial soldiers: Bryan V., David B. and Rob W. Lets have a closer look at them shall we?
Bryan comes to the guard kicking and screaming… until rather violently injected sedatives were used… a lot. He comes from a crappy little backwater planet in the middle of ass nowhere…
David was 'volunteered' for service a while back too. Unlike his current friend Bryan, he knew when to use S.T.F.U. rule "Shut The Fuck Up" (Frell is the word David would use). The Imperial system is a joke to him, and that helps him get through all the BS missions he is sent on.
Rob is more of the quiet sort. While his aim is far from the mark, he makes up for it in his preachings, which really come in handy when everyone has trouble falling asleep.
All of them are 'participants' in the same unit: the 1st Airborne, with the motto: "Cleanse you planet well or the second time's free".
Now, on the contrary to the general belief of the population, these men were not murderers. They were merely… messengers. They only brought bad news this time, that's all. After the… delivery… of the message Bryan, David and Rob stood in front of the chapel gates talking.
"May the Emperor smile on your soul and bring thee to everlasting peace." Rob prayed at he folded the white sheet over a nameless monk's face.
"I don't think he'll be doing that any time soon Rob." Bryan said.
Insulted, Rob stood and challengingly asked with his hands on his hips "And why is that?"
"Well, it says very clearly that the Emperor shall condemn he who desecrates his will. And if the Lords or Terra act in the name of the Emperor, then these guys are pretty screwed."
"But the Emperor also forgives he who lays down his living in his name."
David is keen on adding fuel to the fires of conversation. "So, if they cannot get eternal peace for defying Terra, yet cannot be condemned for preaching the Emperor's name… what happens to him? Is there a "gray area" in-between the two?"
Rob stared at David yet in to a blank space, both of which seemed to be occupying the same area.
"So these guys are in the something like an everlasting waiting room, reading stale magazines for the rest of eternity?" Bryan pondered.
"I guess so. Either way, what do we do now?" David said.
"What do you mean, what do we do now? Haven't we killed enough?" Rob exclaimed.
"That's not what I mean." David replied. "We came here to collect the Emperor's tax money, and all we have here is a brick building. Now I don't know what the customs are on your planet, but I don't think the High Lords will accept bricks as currency."
"Granted." Rob concurred, taking another look at the chapel. "So what are we going to do?"
"Simple." Bryan stated, instantly drawing their attention.
"Oh please, do tell." David said with a grin on his face.
"We take it from the governor's piggy-bank."
"…"
*silence*
"Okay." David said.
"Okay?" Rob asked, still startled.
"Yep. Let's do it. I didn't spend all that time traveling through the warp just to stare at an impressive collection of bricks."
2
They sat in the drop bay of the transport, chutes on, ready to go. 50 piss poor armed soldiers. The cabin was filled with a nice humming noise, the kind that reminded you of your childhood trauma involving a jar of honey and a beehive.
"Funny isn't it." Bryan commented.
"What is?" Rob asked.
"How we basically run this outfit."
David started to chuckle to himself.
"… I still think that getting the LT to drink till he passed out was a bad idea."
David laughs but tries to hold it in with both hands over his mouth.
"What makes things even more interesting," Bryan added. "Is that you, as second in command, Rob, are a complete pussy. Which leaves me and Dave to run the show."
David was now on the floor almost literally laughing his ass off. Rob on the other hand was red enough to win any tomato contest.
"When I'm at the Emperor's side and you're getting whipped by the minions of Horus, I hope I won't be to humble to gloat." Rob said, then turned his attention away from his 2 companions. He found his lasgun next to him (not a single kill to date) and began sanctifying it again. By this time David was back in control of himself, wiping the tears from his eyes.
"And that's another thing, Rob. Before every single mission you praise the gods of Emperor knows what and oil up your gun before every battle." Bryan said, being quite smirk about it too.
"… THAT'S WHAT WE'RE SUPPOSED TO DO!!"
"Well… look at it this way: You oil the gun up, I don't. You have never hit anything, let alone the ground, whereas I sport 58 confirmed kills from 3 major conflicts."
"And you're proud of killing?" Rob exclaimed.
"I'm just saying that I wouldn't be able to hit a white Orc on a black background either if my trigger was lubed like that."
"You're only supposed to anoint the barrel! They only oil the entire weapon in boot camp, and that's only to make you feel stupid."
"Looks like it worked perfectly too." David contributed, sporting a trademark grin on his face.
Complete silence reigned from then until the red light went on, indicating they were over the drop zone. Systematically all 50 paratroopers rose to their feet and lined up in preparation for the jump.
"Here's the plan." David yelled from the front of the line. "We are going to jump from a perfectly good plane in to the middle of the governor's residential block. We are after the big guy himself, please do not shoot him… not matter how much he asks you to after I am done with him. Do NOT shoot him. If anybody feels like shooting at us tonight, feel free to exercise excessive violence." At that the troopers cheered in great joy.
"That was beautiful." Bryan paused to fake a sniff. "Brought a tear to my eye."
"Thank you. It came from the heart." David replied. After that he pulled a lever that was conveniently placed at the end of the aircraft, causing the ramp to lower, exposing them all to the night and the violent rush of air. Bryan looked down, trying to find the lights of the drop zone. "Why do we do this anyway?" He asked no one in particular. The green light flashed bright as David said: "Because it's fun," and pushed Bryan out of the plane.
Bryan embraced the freedom of weightlessness as he plummeted gracefully towards the ground at 100 feet per second. He eventually decided that popping his chute was a good idea. He pulled the ripcord and hung on to the shoulder straps. The chute released and opened just as planed. Nevertheless, the fact that Bryan forgot to secure the harness was a bad thing. This caused the chute to separate itself from him, which left Bryan, still, in the middle of a freefall. "Oh. Shit."
His mind racing at peek speed he desperately tried to think of a way out of his rather large predicament. "… Nope… Nope… That won't work… hmm… maybe…" At that he furiously began to flap his arms, at the lack of a better plan. "Nope." Just as it seemed all was lost he saw one of his soldiers falling down near him. Bryan angled himself so that he might somehow become an aerodynamic freak of nature and bring himself next to other paratrooper. It worked too. He yelled as load as humanly possible, for the sound of the upward rushing wind was quite deafening. "Dave?"
The soldier replied "No sir, Hendrix."
"Good." And with that he took the trooper's nostrils with his middle and index fingers and pulled him down so he was now completely vertical and utterly out of control. Bryan released the harness of the chute and grabbed on to it with both hands, letting the trooper have the right of way on the journey south. "Thank you!" he yelled after him. Bryan looked around just to make sure nobody had seen him then he put on the harness and popped the chute. With the pulling of the rip cord the chute opened majestically and gave the harness a good jolt. A jolt Bryan's "privates" did not need.
"Ah… Ah… Ow… Fall from divinity, chapter 10, verse 7: He who betrays his brother will be made felt the retribution he is deserving… I should have known…"
After the rather awkward jump, Bryan finally reached the ground. After he had disposed of his chute and readied his weapon, he realized then that he had missed the drop zone. Instead of being in the middle of a street block sized villa, he was standing in the middle of some run down suburbs. And what a nasty place it was. Garbage was hanging from every possible place on and off the buildings, old people sleeping in said garbage… really nasty stuff.
"Ohh-kay. All I need to do is to head south and I should eventually meet up with Dave and the others." Bryan was in one of the back alleys. He decided to sneak up to the front and peek around the corner, to get a better understanding of which direction he should proceed in. The main street was just as filth ridden as the alley. And luckily for Bryan not a soul was in sight. In the absence of a better plan, Bryan proceeded down the street, hoping this neighborhood ended soon.
He had only gone a few steps before the eyes began showing up in every day window. They stared at him, they gazed at him, and they pierced his body with invisible bullets it almost seemed. Needless to say, Bryan was quite uncomfortable right then. That was only the good part though; it became worse when thugs began appearing from numerous doorways, armed with everything from knuckle spikes to large knives. Bryan took a quick inventory of his weapon and ammo status. His lasgun was in perfect working order, his real problem was that all his ammo was lost (save the loaded clip), and the trooper whose harness he 'borrowed' had nothing but 2 flamethrower fuel canisters attached to it. "I love these odds," he said quietly to himself. He increased his pace to a "office walk", but just slow enough not to provoke the mob, who now consisted of about 40 volunteers. He looked back again to see where he was going, and praise the emperor he could see the end of this unfriendly neighborhood, where trash met clean concrete: but he still had 200 yards to go; and he knew they wouldn't let him get 50. After another 30 paces Bryan stopped. The mob halted as well, eager to see what the "little soldier boy" was going to do. With a swift motion Bryan spun around, his left arm throwing a fuel canister high into the air above the crowd. He leveled his lasgun and pulled off 2 shots, hitting the canister and igniting the napalm housed inside.
Liquid fire washed down as a merciless blanket of death upon the mob. Their screams of pain they gave, as their skin flowed in molten streams off their body, was comparable only to that of demonic warp beasts. Flamer fuel was nasty stuff. Bryan didn't bother to stick around and watch: he knew very well what their fate was. By the time the first droplet of napalm had hit the mob he was already sprinting in the direction of his salvation. 120. 100. 80. 60 yards. He was almost home free. That is until small arms fire erupted from several apartment buildings. He couldn't afford to get caught in a long term skirmish and added to his pace while zigzagging left and right, trying desperately not to get shot. 40. 20. 10. A mere 10 yards away from the 'boarder' a truck with trailer pulls in to his path, an attempt to cut him off it looks like.
"SHIIIIIIT!" Bryan yelled as he leaned backwards, using his momentum to slide under the truck feet first. When he opened his eyes again it suddenly hit him that he had made it. He was unharmed and out of the most unfriendly part of the galaxy. He jumped up and down cheering in celebration. When he calmed down he swore that he could still hear shooting. He turned around and finally realized that the 18-wheeler was a fuel tanker. And it was being shot.
"Crap." He said in a small squeaky voice right before the tanker exploded and sent him flying.
Meanwhile, miles away, David and his buddies are focused on the task at hand. Now at 300 feet above the ground the men of the 1st airborne were looking down at a very well lit street block sized villa. Thoughts of disgust entered Rob's mind as he realized that the chapel was not the main target of the missing funds. At 200 feet his anger swelled as all the luscious details of the scattered courtyard statues became more visible. At the 100 foot marker Rob was able to identify his 'somewhere in that area' landing zone: In the back courtyard, between the nude dancer statuettes and the hedge. At 50 feet one of the statues seemed to be moving. 30 feet: the statue is actually a guard with a small weapon; probably a chemical powered sub machine gun. 10 feet from the green grass Rob had positive knowledge of where he was landing, and he liked it: somewhere between the C3 and C7 discs of the guard's spinal cord. A pronounced grunt escaped the black dressed thug as he involuntarily occupied the space between the ground and Rob. His back in total agony, his vision blurry, the unfortunate man tried to aim his vision upward, in an attempt to see something other than the cobblestone walkway. A mysterious person blocked his view.
"Be wary." Rob said. "For yee know not when the master cometh… Bitch." With the last word he slammed the butt stock of his lasgun in to the guard's skull, rendering him unconscious.
"Feel better now?" Rob heard David's voice ask. Rob looked behind him to see David and the rest of the 1st Airborne taking up positions to storm the villa.
"Much, thanks for asking."
"Still doesn't count as a kill though."
"And killing him now would be bad sport."
David nodded.
"My friend, the night is still young."
With large grins David and Rob nodded at each other, then continued with the operation.
Counting 10 minutes later, we rejoin the 'mission' in one of the inner hallways of the villa. The walls are painted in a light tan and are richly decorated with objects and paintings made from golds and silvers. Many of them will be quite useful during the next 'financial plan' meeting. Anyway, back to the hallway. They are well lit by side mounted imitation candles (they look like flames but are just illusions of light). Also the numerous laser bursts that fly back and forth provide excellent shadow effects. Pinned down at a "T" intersection of hallway by the hired muscle of the governor, the brave, courageous and above all, angry group of Imperial Guardsmen try to advance. David and Rob were positioned at one corner along with 2 other soldiers, with another 5 on the other corner taking turns shooting down the hallway, trying to rout the resistance.
"We must be getting close to the big cheese." Rob commented to David.
"What makes you think that?" David asked in return.
"Well," Rob began. "We've only advanced 200 meters in the last 10 minutes, there is more return fire than usual, you've used up all your power cells and chose to arm yourself with 2 handfuls of green gelatin that you found in the kitchen."
David looked down at his hands. He did in fact have a blob of the green substance in each palm. "To the plain eye this gooey muck I hold is just plain gelatin." David explained. "But those of higher general knowledge, such as myself, would know that this is no ordinary gelatin. It is ritual gelatin. Ever heard of a thing called a 'tea ceremony'? This stuff is used in the 'gelatin ceremony.' Its volume of mass is thicker and heavier than that of the normal slot we're issued for dessert. Allow me to demonstrate, covering fire if you would."
"Course. Hit it boys!" Rob ordered to his subordinates. As David rounded the corner, sprinting down the hallway, multiple bursts of laser fire opened up and spat death at the makeshift barricade of tables and chairs at the other end of the hall, forcing the defenders to take cover. The men of the 1st Airborne watched with astonished facial expressions as David bounded over the barricade as initiated close combat. Savagely, he assaulted the guards with fists of gelatin. Punching, kicking, backhanding. He danced as dangerous dance of pain amongst the defenders. When the rest of the platoon reached him they found him as the only one standing, with 6 squirming guards laying about him, desperately scratching and pulling at the green substance on their faces.
"This stuff is so thick that only those trained in the way of the ceremony are capable of even chewing it. Unfortunately, suffocation due to lack of oxygen is the mainstream alternative." David commented, with only a small amount of the green stuff remaining on his hands.
Disclaimer: this fic is based on materials created and owned by Games Workshop. Let it be said that I am not stealing anything, I am merely borrowing it and will return everything when I am done.
1
"Ok, so let me get this straight." Bryan yelled over the background noise of laser bolts and explosions. "A bunch of guys decided to keep their tax money from the emperor and used it to build a chapel dedicated to his religious cult instead."
"Yep." His friend and squad mate David replied.
"And this pissed someone off mighty fierce, fierce enough to send us here."
"Yep."
"And now we're here shooting up a bunch of loyal, defenseless monks and to collect on their dues."
"That pretty much sums it up."
"Ok, just making sure I got it straight." Bryan said, then stood up at the window they were crouched next to and fired another couple bursts from his lasgun at the robed figures, then knelt back down again.
"So wait a sec." He said to David. "Isn't what we're doing sacrilegious?"
"Yes and no."
"Really?" Bryan replied in a flat tone
"Really. The High Lords of Terra run the church and the system of government. So, if we are told by the government to attack the church, which is the government, then that's nothing more than a self inflicted wound, like a priest shooting himself in the foot. But if you look at it from that screaming legless guy's perspective, at your 3 o'clock, 50 yards out, I'd say he would think it's sacrilegious."
"So are we gonna be damned for this?"
David stood up next to the window, leveled his lasgun and fired one shot, stopping the screaming. He knelt back down and said: "To bad for the legless guy he isn't the one in charge here."
They both smiled like idiots for a second.
Welcome to the twisted Universe of Warhammer 40K, I'll be your host: Swissjak. As you can see, nothing on the battlefield makes any sense what so ever. We will follow the 3 amusing Imperial soldiers: Bryan V., David B. and Rob W. Lets have a closer look at them shall we?
Bryan comes to the guard kicking and screaming… until rather violently injected sedatives were used… a lot. He comes from a crappy little backwater planet in the middle of ass nowhere…
David was 'volunteered' for service a while back too. Unlike his current friend Bryan, he knew when to use S.T.F.U. rule "Shut The Fuck Up" (Frell is the word David would use). The Imperial system is a joke to him, and that helps him get through all the BS missions he is sent on.
Rob is more of the quiet sort. While his aim is far from the mark, he makes up for it in his preachings, which really come in handy when everyone has trouble falling asleep.
All of them are 'participants' in the same unit: the 1st Airborne, with the motto: "Cleanse you planet well or the second time's free".
Now, on the contrary to the general belief of the population, these men were not murderers. They were merely… messengers. They only brought bad news this time, that's all. After the… delivery… of the message Bryan, David and Rob stood in front of the chapel gates talking.
"May the Emperor smile on your soul and bring thee to everlasting peace." Rob prayed at he folded the white sheet over a nameless monk's face.
"I don't think he'll be doing that any time soon Rob." Bryan said.
Insulted, Rob stood and challengingly asked with his hands on his hips "And why is that?"
"Well, it says very clearly that the Emperor shall condemn he who desecrates his will. And if the Lords or Terra act in the name of the Emperor, then these guys are pretty screwed."
"But the Emperor also forgives he who lays down his living in his name."
David is keen on adding fuel to the fires of conversation. "So, if they cannot get eternal peace for defying Terra, yet cannot be condemned for preaching the Emperor's name… what happens to him? Is there a "gray area" in-between the two?"
Rob stared at David yet in to a blank space, both of which seemed to be occupying the same area.
"So these guys are in the something like an everlasting waiting room, reading stale magazines for the rest of eternity?" Bryan pondered.
"I guess so. Either way, what do we do now?" David said.
"What do you mean, what do we do now? Haven't we killed enough?" Rob exclaimed.
"That's not what I mean." David replied. "We came here to collect the Emperor's tax money, and all we have here is a brick building. Now I don't know what the customs are on your planet, but I don't think the High Lords will accept bricks as currency."
"Granted." Rob concurred, taking another look at the chapel. "So what are we going to do?"
"Simple." Bryan stated, instantly drawing their attention.
"Oh please, do tell." David said with a grin on his face.
"We take it from the governor's piggy-bank."
"…"
*silence*
"Okay." David said.
"Okay?" Rob asked, still startled.
"Yep. Let's do it. I didn't spend all that time traveling through the warp just to stare at an impressive collection of bricks."
2
They sat in the drop bay of the transport, chutes on, ready to go. 50 piss poor armed soldiers. The cabin was filled with a nice humming noise, the kind that reminded you of your childhood trauma involving a jar of honey and a beehive.
"Funny isn't it." Bryan commented.
"What is?" Rob asked.
"How we basically run this outfit."
David started to chuckle to himself.
"… I still think that getting the LT to drink till he passed out was a bad idea."
David laughs but tries to hold it in with both hands over his mouth.
"What makes things even more interesting," Bryan added. "Is that you, as second in command, Rob, are a complete pussy. Which leaves me and Dave to run the show."
David was now on the floor almost literally laughing his ass off. Rob on the other hand was red enough to win any tomato contest.
"When I'm at the Emperor's side and you're getting whipped by the minions of Horus, I hope I won't be to humble to gloat." Rob said, then turned his attention away from his 2 companions. He found his lasgun next to him (not a single kill to date) and began sanctifying it again. By this time David was back in control of himself, wiping the tears from his eyes.
"And that's another thing, Rob. Before every single mission you praise the gods of Emperor knows what and oil up your gun before every battle." Bryan said, being quite smirk about it too.
"… THAT'S WHAT WE'RE SUPPOSED TO DO!!"
"Well… look at it this way: You oil the gun up, I don't. You have never hit anything, let alone the ground, whereas I sport 58 confirmed kills from 3 major conflicts."
"And you're proud of killing?" Rob exclaimed.
"I'm just saying that I wouldn't be able to hit a white Orc on a black background either if my trigger was lubed like that."
"You're only supposed to anoint the barrel! They only oil the entire weapon in boot camp, and that's only to make you feel stupid."
"Looks like it worked perfectly too." David contributed, sporting a trademark grin on his face.
Complete silence reigned from then until the red light went on, indicating they were over the drop zone. Systematically all 50 paratroopers rose to their feet and lined up in preparation for the jump.
"Here's the plan." David yelled from the front of the line. "We are going to jump from a perfectly good plane in to the middle of the governor's residential block. We are after the big guy himself, please do not shoot him… not matter how much he asks you to after I am done with him. Do NOT shoot him. If anybody feels like shooting at us tonight, feel free to exercise excessive violence." At that the troopers cheered in great joy.
"That was beautiful." Bryan paused to fake a sniff. "Brought a tear to my eye."
"Thank you. It came from the heart." David replied. After that he pulled a lever that was conveniently placed at the end of the aircraft, causing the ramp to lower, exposing them all to the night and the violent rush of air. Bryan looked down, trying to find the lights of the drop zone. "Why do we do this anyway?" He asked no one in particular. The green light flashed bright as David said: "Because it's fun," and pushed Bryan out of the plane.
Bryan embraced the freedom of weightlessness as he plummeted gracefully towards the ground at 100 feet per second. He eventually decided that popping his chute was a good idea. He pulled the ripcord and hung on to the shoulder straps. The chute released and opened just as planed. Nevertheless, the fact that Bryan forgot to secure the harness was a bad thing. This caused the chute to separate itself from him, which left Bryan, still, in the middle of a freefall. "Oh. Shit."
His mind racing at peek speed he desperately tried to think of a way out of his rather large predicament. "… Nope… Nope… That won't work… hmm… maybe…" At that he furiously began to flap his arms, at the lack of a better plan. "Nope." Just as it seemed all was lost he saw one of his soldiers falling down near him. Bryan angled himself so that he might somehow become an aerodynamic freak of nature and bring himself next to other paratrooper. It worked too. He yelled as load as humanly possible, for the sound of the upward rushing wind was quite deafening. "Dave?"
The soldier replied "No sir, Hendrix."
"Good." And with that he took the trooper's nostrils with his middle and index fingers and pulled him down so he was now completely vertical and utterly out of control. Bryan released the harness of the chute and grabbed on to it with both hands, letting the trooper have the right of way on the journey south. "Thank you!" he yelled after him. Bryan looked around just to make sure nobody had seen him then he put on the harness and popped the chute. With the pulling of the rip cord the chute opened majestically and gave the harness a good jolt. A jolt Bryan's "privates" did not need.
"Ah… Ah… Ow… Fall from divinity, chapter 10, verse 7: He who betrays his brother will be made felt the retribution he is deserving… I should have known…"
After the rather awkward jump, Bryan finally reached the ground. After he had disposed of his chute and readied his weapon, he realized then that he had missed the drop zone. Instead of being in the middle of a street block sized villa, he was standing in the middle of some run down suburbs. And what a nasty place it was. Garbage was hanging from every possible place on and off the buildings, old people sleeping in said garbage… really nasty stuff.
"Ohh-kay. All I need to do is to head south and I should eventually meet up with Dave and the others." Bryan was in one of the back alleys. He decided to sneak up to the front and peek around the corner, to get a better understanding of which direction he should proceed in. The main street was just as filth ridden as the alley. And luckily for Bryan not a soul was in sight. In the absence of a better plan, Bryan proceeded down the street, hoping this neighborhood ended soon.
He had only gone a few steps before the eyes began showing up in every day window. They stared at him, they gazed at him, and they pierced his body with invisible bullets it almost seemed. Needless to say, Bryan was quite uncomfortable right then. That was only the good part though; it became worse when thugs began appearing from numerous doorways, armed with everything from knuckle spikes to large knives. Bryan took a quick inventory of his weapon and ammo status. His lasgun was in perfect working order, his real problem was that all his ammo was lost (save the loaded clip), and the trooper whose harness he 'borrowed' had nothing but 2 flamethrower fuel canisters attached to it. "I love these odds," he said quietly to himself. He increased his pace to a "office walk", but just slow enough not to provoke the mob, who now consisted of about 40 volunteers. He looked back again to see where he was going, and praise the emperor he could see the end of this unfriendly neighborhood, where trash met clean concrete: but he still had 200 yards to go; and he knew they wouldn't let him get 50. After another 30 paces Bryan stopped. The mob halted as well, eager to see what the "little soldier boy" was going to do. With a swift motion Bryan spun around, his left arm throwing a fuel canister high into the air above the crowd. He leveled his lasgun and pulled off 2 shots, hitting the canister and igniting the napalm housed inside.
Liquid fire washed down as a merciless blanket of death upon the mob. Their screams of pain they gave, as their skin flowed in molten streams off their body, was comparable only to that of demonic warp beasts. Flamer fuel was nasty stuff. Bryan didn't bother to stick around and watch: he knew very well what their fate was. By the time the first droplet of napalm had hit the mob he was already sprinting in the direction of his salvation. 120. 100. 80. 60 yards. He was almost home free. That is until small arms fire erupted from several apartment buildings. He couldn't afford to get caught in a long term skirmish and added to his pace while zigzagging left and right, trying desperately not to get shot. 40. 20. 10. A mere 10 yards away from the 'boarder' a truck with trailer pulls in to his path, an attempt to cut him off it looks like.
"SHIIIIIIT!" Bryan yelled as he leaned backwards, using his momentum to slide under the truck feet first. When he opened his eyes again it suddenly hit him that he had made it. He was unharmed and out of the most unfriendly part of the galaxy. He jumped up and down cheering in celebration. When he calmed down he swore that he could still hear shooting. He turned around and finally realized that the 18-wheeler was a fuel tanker. And it was being shot.
"Crap." He said in a small squeaky voice right before the tanker exploded and sent him flying.
Meanwhile, miles away, David and his buddies are focused on the task at hand. Now at 300 feet above the ground the men of the 1st airborne were looking down at a very well lit street block sized villa. Thoughts of disgust entered Rob's mind as he realized that the chapel was not the main target of the missing funds. At 200 feet his anger swelled as all the luscious details of the scattered courtyard statues became more visible. At the 100 foot marker Rob was able to identify his 'somewhere in that area' landing zone: In the back courtyard, between the nude dancer statuettes and the hedge. At 50 feet one of the statues seemed to be moving. 30 feet: the statue is actually a guard with a small weapon; probably a chemical powered sub machine gun. 10 feet from the green grass Rob had positive knowledge of where he was landing, and he liked it: somewhere between the C3 and C7 discs of the guard's spinal cord. A pronounced grunt escaped the black dressed thug as he involuntarily occupied the space between the ground and Rob. His back in total agony, his vision blurry, the unfortunate man tried to aim his vision upward, in an attempt to see something other than the cobblestone walkway. A mysterious person blocked his view.
"Be wary." Rob said. "For yee know not when the master cometh… Bitch." With the last word he slammed the butt stock of his lasgun in to the guard's skull, rendering him unconscious.
"Feel better now?" Rob heard David's voice ask. Rob looked behind him to see David and the rest of the 1st Airborne taking up positions to storm the villa.
"Much, thanks for asking."
"Still doesn't count as a kill though."
"And killing him now would be bad sport."
David nodded.
"My friend, the night is still young."
With large grins David and Rob nodded at each other, then continued with the operation.
Counting 10 minutes later, we rejoin the 'mission' in one of the inner hallways of the villa. The walls are painted in a light tan and are richly decorated with objects and paintings made from golds and silvers. Many of them will be quite useful during the next 'financial plan' meeting. Anyway, back to the hallway. They are well lit by side mounted imitation candles (they look like flames but are just illusions of light). Also the numerous laser bursts that fly back and forth provide excellent shadow effects. Pinned down at a "T" intersection of hallway by the hired muscle of the governor, the brave, courageous and above all, angry group of Imperial Guardsmen try to advance. David and Rob were positioned at one corner along with 2 other soldiers, with another 5 on the other corner taking turns shooting down the hallway, trying to rout the resistance.
"We must be getting close to the big cheese." Rob commented to David.
"What makes you think that?" David asked in return.
"Well," Rob began. "We've only advanced 200 meters in the last 10 minutes, there is more return fire than usual, you've used up all your power cells and chose to arm yourself with 2 handfuls of green gelatin that you found in the kitchen."
David looked down at his hands. He did in fact have a blob of the green substance in each palm. "To the plain eye this gooey muck I hold is just plain gelatin." David explained. "But those of higher general knowledge, such as myself, would know that this is no ordinary gelatin. It is ritual gelatin. Ever heard of a thing called a 'tea ceremony'? This stuff is used in the 'gelatin ceremony.' Its volume of mass is thicker and heavier than that of the normal slot we're issued for dessert. Allow me to demonstrate, covering fire if you would."
"Course. Hit it boys!" Rob ordered to his subordinates. As David rounded the corner, sprinting down the hallway, multiple bursts of laser fire opened up and spat death at the makeshift barricade of tables and chairs at the other end of the hall, forcing the defenders to take cover. The men of the 1st Airborne watched with astonished facial expressions as David bounded over the barricade as initiated close combat. Savagely, he assaulted the guards with fists of gelatin. Punching, kicking, backhanding. He danced as dangerous dance of pain amongst the defenders. When the rest of the platoon reached him they found him as the only one standing, with 6 squirming guards laying about him, desperately scratching and pulling at the green substance on their faces.
"This stuff is so thick that only those trained in the way of the ceremony are capable of even chewing it. Unfortunately, suffocation due to lack of oxygen is the mainstream alternative." David commented, with only a small amount of the green stuff remaining on his hands.