Penal Planet Survival:
The thrusters kicked in, the rear compartment violently shook. Bodies haphazardly were torn from the seats and into the walls and each other. The handlers stood frozen and passive as the turbulence wreaked havoc; a few relished the idea that the scum of man, killers and traitors, the so-called tough can be thrown like rag-dolls. Hydraulics and lights came to life and the rear embarkation ramp slowly lowered. Red lumin-globes flickered to green and the smell of fear wafted through the compartment as the handlers began forcefully pushing the scum of man to hell below. 'Welcome to Arkham' one of the handlers said as he shoved his fist into the face of an inmate.
His eyes slowly open. Dried blood coats his face with a large bruise covering the right half of his face. His breathing is heavy and painful; the compressions of every breath flare the nerves of pain: broken ribs. He searches around to only find dust and filth, a slight breeze waves over him, bringing a soothing coolness to his burning pain. He heaves himself up, the pain was excruciating but he had to move. He tries to run his hand through his jet black hair to only find it's gone. 'Bastards, you could've left some' he murmured to himself as he checked his wounds. He tore the sleeves off his jumpsuit and tied it around his torso, he yelled in pain as he did so. Tattoos covered his arms; on the left arm was an Imperial Aquila with laurels on its flanks with a sword in the left talon and a shield in the other and on the right was a mural of the victory on Secundus Severies. Why didn't they just desecrate it, like everything else? he thought. 'Inmate 896745? I guess that's my new name' he said in a rough voice, when he looked at the brand mark on his chest.
Arkham wasn't a beautiful world, seeing as it's a Penal Colony in the Sauren System. It was a dry, arid, and desolate planet. Rock formations pierce the heavens and travel hundreds and hundreds of kilometers in each direction. Inmate 896745 walked for hours or days, he didn't know and he really didn't care, the sun stayed in the same position, never moving, lifeless it seemed. Dust kicked up behind him and hung carelessly in the cold still air, his footprints were trailed behind like markers for the future. His chest was hurting, the broken rib was unrelenting, and every breath and movement he did triggered the pain. But he couldn't stop, any sane man would know not to sit still and be an open prey for the vile degenerates that roamed the lands of the lawless. It was getting colder, his breath formed shapes as he breathed, swirling and dissipating. It brought memories of his childhood, a distant memory that seemed to happen to someone else. He coughed loudly and this time with blood. 'Great. What's next? Khorne berserkers wanting my blood?' he said to himself with a slight laugh. He stumbles to the ground and begins crawling to what appeared to be a shed. A shed? What's a shed doing here? he thought, before passing out.
'Heinrich, he's coming to' Doc said. The room was lit with a lumen-globe in the center of the room. The walls were grey, dilapidated, and stagnant, but with what appeared to be - mud covered the bullet riddled walls. 'How are you feeling?' Heinrich asked. He tried to reply but a gurgle of blood blurted out. 'Looks like the Binding Gel didn't take. Looks like we're going in, Heinrich, you ready?' Doc asked Heinrich. Inmate 896745 kept falling in and out of consciousness, but he tried speaking and moving, but the two held him down and told him to conserve his energy. The room was relatively quiet with the exception of the moving of metal on metal and the heavy breathing of the two men in the room. He felt the warm hand of the one called Doc on his chest. The slight feeling was horrible; it felt like a boulder rolling about. He tried to scream out in pain, but only a plash of blood spewed out. 'What in the name of the Emperor happened to this guy?' Doc asked. 'He fell. Two days ago, a new batch of inmates arrived. The Handlers kicked them out, I think at eight or nine meters up. Poor bastards hit the ground like a sack of bricks' Heinrich murmured. 'Damn…' Doc replied. Then there was a heavy bang on the wall.
The thin metal walls of the shed exploded in a hail of sparks and heat. The men within dove for cover on the cold wet dirt floor. 'Cover him!' Doc shouted. Outside, the clang of shell casings fell in a rhythmic pattern of what sounded like a heart. The hard ground muffled the metallic clang and placed it with a dull pounding. Mixed in with the gunfire was laughter, a psychotic fervor that enhanced the blatant insanity that was untwining. 'We need to move him now, Heinrich, is the salamander still working? Doc asked. Heinrich hesitated and then said 'yeah, but the fuel line is screwed up. We can only go three to five klicks at a time.' 'Shit. I guess that will do. You get his legs, I'll get his shoulders and on three we move our asses to the vehicle and hall ass to outpost 2-3.' Doc nodded and hastily moved while dodging incoming rounds that were bursting through the thin walls. The two grabbed their designated parts and on Heinrich's mark they lifted him. He was heavy for a man with a thin build, but nevertheless they moved him to the vehicle. Rounds were hitting all around them. Dirt and dust erupted behind and around them with every strike. 'They came prepared this time. I'm surprised they didn't bring a blasted rocket launcher' Heinrich laughed. 'Don't give them damn ideas' Doc replied. The Salamander roared to life. Exhaust billowed out in grey streams with spurts of fire. 'Ahh, she lives. Hold on and save him while I make our daring escape from these idiots, oh, and that's an order!' Heinrich said, as he shifted gears and hit the throttle. The machine lumbered in excitement and drove off in a hail of gunfire.
The roar of autogun fire and the cacophony of terror and excitement were without abandonment. The Salamander lurched and churned the ground as it attempted to make an escape. The treads kicking up rock and dirt into the oncoming pursuers, the ping and clank of rock ricocheting off the metal hull of the makeshift cargo truck, nevertheless, the vehicle kept going. The exhaust blurting out puffs of toxic chemical smoke into the thin air, the concoction of fuel sources were deadly to those who weren't protected. 'How's our buddy doing, doc?' Heinrich voxed, as he kept trying to push the machine to its limits. Doc leaned into the compartment where Inmate 896745 was and checked. 'He's still bleeding but there's really nothing I can do. When we get the outpost, I'll put some cloth and wind it around him and hopefully the ribs will heal properly over time' he voxed, as he pulled a rusty and aged autogun. Rust was consuming the barrel like an infection on a suckling wound and the wooden butt stock crumbling and bug ridden. 'Can this damn thing even fire?' he murmured to himself as he shoved a clip in. 'what?' replied Heinrich. 'Nothing, just going to die by this piece of shit weaponry.' He aimed and he whispered prayer to aim true. 'Grant me the sight of the eagle, the calm of the breeze, the patience of a saint and the skill to smite the foe from afar' he whispers as he takes the shot. The crack of the explosive repellant shot the slug high and into a tree, a branch fell. The pursuing vehicle accelerated even more, now the vehicle was five meters out and closing. A bulldozer blade coated in dried blood and viscus matter flapping in the wind. The driver had the smile of an insane man with the lacerations to prove it sat behind the wheel, his bald head reflected the midday sun and the half-moon shaped scar below his right eye made him look unreal, like a figure from a horrible fairytale from old Terran myth. He didn't know how many people where on the truck, his main focus was the freak that sat in the driver's seat. He held his breath, recited the Litany of Accuracy and fired.
The cabin exploded in a shower of skull fragments and brain matter. The once grotesque face of the fairytale-like driver was now a heap of warm flesh sliding about in the unmanned vehicle. It swerved out of control and hit a tree. The body of the driver became a missile and shot out of the ruined windshield and slid across the dirt path. There were three combatants in the rear of the truck. Their bodies became ragdolls, flying tumbling in erratic parabolic movements. One hit a tree and was impaled by a low hanging branch, his body spasmed and then hung still. Another slid like their driver, he was still alive. The other was crushed by the rolling truck; a skid mark of blood was only left. Stunned, Doc called out to Heinrich to stop. The Salamander stumbled to a halt with a shrill and shrieks from the disintegrating engine. 'Well she's dead. Sorry love, I'll miss our precious attempts at escaping nutjobs and whatnot' Heinrich said jokingly to the dead vehicle. Doc jumped out and ran to the injured pursuer. His kit was around him, the bright red Rod of Asclepius imprinted on a white background was sign of hope and deliverance from death. 'What are you doing? Leave him. He's not one of us, he's a heretic bastard that deserves a bullet through his skull' cried out Heinrich. Like an adventive creature in a world, seeing the true horrors of the unknown, Doc finally witnesses the true meaning of chaotic taint. He leans over the mangled "man" and gasps in bewilderment. Doc wasn't your typical combat medicae operator; he was on the personal staff of the newly promoted Lord General Gemetzel, he never experienced the forces of chaos, mostly staying in the rear and enjoying the calm in the never ending slaughter. The wounded 'man' had fangs that were sharp enough to penetrate carapace armor; his head was bald like the driver, who was now a headless speed bump on the dirt path. Tattoos of the Ruinous Powers covered his body with ghastly piercings. 'Just a degenerate, yet so fascinating' he said to himself. Heinrich came up and shot the creature in the head with an autopistol. The crack of the explosive concussion echoed and slowly faded. 'We got to be going, now. We can't just play with the heretics like toys. We need to go, strip the supplies off of the downed vehicle over there. Got it?' Heinrich said, as he fired numerous shots into the mangled bodies of the heretics. Doc shrugged it off and walked to the vehicle.
Dirt and rockrete rained down with smoke rolling in likes waves. The air was heavy and dirty, it hurt to break without a rebreather. The lasgun in his hands felt heavy and awkward, as if this was his first time using one, but it wasn't he was a veteran of numerous conflicts on numerous worlds. His eyesight was hazy and unreal, as if someone wrapped a sheet of plastyk around his eyes. He could hear but there was sound, guns blazing, bombs bursting, moans of the dying, and the war cries of the foul beast. He couldn't either taste or smell, yet they were there, his mind can't or won't acknowledge their presence. He tried screaming but nothing came out. Everything around him was in slow motion, lances of lasgun beams hung in the air, slowly making their way towards to their target, fire danced while smoke billowed, and bolter rounds spun delicately in the air as their shell casings fell harmless to the ground. Green monstrosities roared and charged but they just stood in place, black giants with the Maltese cross stood defiantly bellowing zealotry and bolts towards the frozen enemy. His eyes gradually laid gaze upon the Astartes, it was a sight of immense pride and awe, the purity seals fluttered in the breeze while Litanies of the upmost Holy glared in the sun. There was a flash and everything came alive. The roar of battle ensued and the heat, taste, and the awes inspiring battle impacted him like a hammer. Mere mortals stood alongside these Astartes and fought shoulder to shoulder. He turned his to see a young face looking at him, the green and blue camouflage of the uniform and the blood red battle-helm made him seem strange and unreal was yelling with joy. "Onward to glory! Today is ours, the Emperor smiles upon us!" he roared. Inmate 896745 woke up in a dry sweat and screaming. Tears rolled down his bruised face. 'It's a trap… they tricked us to slaughter us!' he screamed. He then began hitting himself until blood started to spew from his head. 'What the fuck are you doing? Stop dammit!' Doc said as he wrestled with the Inmate. A fist struck Doc and he fell with a thump. Dazed, he looked for his kit and took out a syringe. 'Sedate him, dammit' cried out Heinrich. 'I am, just hold him still' he replied. Heinrich jumped into the scuffle and used his full weight to hold down the Inmate. Doc plunged the syringe into his arm and released the sedative. The Inmates arms began to weaken and loose stem, until they fall motionless. Doc and Heinrich looked at each other with surprise and confusion. 'What was that about?' they said simultaneously.