"We'z got some hummiez boyz," yelled the Ork Warband Leader as he ushered his greenskin brethren forward through a hail of lasblasts, pointing and screaming at the flimsy pink skimmed humans cowering in their trenches against the green juggernaut.
The xenos scum ducked between bombed out ruins and flattened automobiles as they rushed through the war torn streets with artillery and gunfire raking the nearby abandoned buildings clean of their furnishings. These may have been savage Orks, but they weren't completely stupid. Despite their numbers, they had to clear the terrain between the guardsmen and the old canal roads without being cut to ribbons. Needless to say, the Orks in an odd bit of clarity started to use cover rather than charge in all gung-ho and ready for the killing.
Mortar and stone collapsed throughout the once prosperous Hive World Suburbs as guardsmen held a thin defensive breastwork of trenches dug into a nearby spiraling nexus of parks and continuously elevating street tenements reserved for the planets wealthy nobility and better off aristocracy.
They raked the advancing Orks with murderous fire, but… it wasn't enough. The Green Tide was inching its way forward despite the relentless pounding against their frontline troops. Lasblasts pecked away stranglers sporadically, but not enough to turn away their momentum which gradually overcame the open terrain dotted with occasional crumbling remnants of once prosperous stone buildings.
"This is it? Son of a… I'm going to die here… here… in a ditch of chem wastes," cursed guardsmen Ionia as she pressed her chest against the blood soaked battlements and quickly let loose another volley from her lasrifle. It was futile, she knew it, and everyone else knew it. In fact, some of the lesser trained rotated in troops fresh to the regiment were already breaking formation and retreating from the first lower rank echelons of the barricades. This cowardly scum was of course caught in a brutal crossfire between the next layer of trenches and advancing Orks, cut to ribbons, and left to rot in smoking piles of gored meat simmering upon the further upward defensive breastworks.
She hated that it was going to end like this, wet, covered from head to toe in brown sludge-mud that smelled of rotting cabbage. Ionia ducked back down and started to reload her rifles energy pack as someone else slide down to her side, skirting down a dirt pile, and splashing more mud upon their clothes.
"Hey Ionia," said Mercy with a hint of cheer, gallows humor she supposed, "Looks like we won't be making tonight's poker match," she laughed, ducking briefly for cover as some loose dirt was splashed over the breastworks from a missed artillery round.
Poker night, by the Throne Ionia had always hated her squad's old traditions. She, Mercy, Fredrick, Albert, and Tony would all get together once a week to play strip poker… and of course Ionia always lost to those perverted scum. She sighed; the loser had to walk back to the barracks across the parade grounds, getting laughed at by the rest of the guardsmen. At least the Orks had done something good for her with their timely invasion; she wouldn't be entertaining any depraved guard fodder with her naked bottom tonight.
The Orks were getting closer, she could hear it… that scream, WAAAAAGH! And then… something toped the trenches from the front. It was a giant black smoking machine, treads kicking back dirt as it assailed the trenches with a wail of diesel smoke bellowing from its engines.
Both Ionia and Mercy looked up, stunned and startled, as a Basilisk Artillery Unit plowed over the trenches while advancing towards the Ork Horde. The two women saw someone, a Commissar dressed in a strange red uniform covered in a black leather trench coat. The man was young with short poorly kept brown hair, and he grinned wickedly while pressing down the tip of his crimson Commissar cap, "Laaaaaaaaaadies," spoken seductively as he passed by, drawing his chain-saber and pointing it towards the enemy Orks.
"Make me proud you sons of whores!?" he yelled at the tops of his lungs, roaring machine saber pointing towards the enemy Orks.
Seconds later the Basilisk stopped its advance and fired into the greenskins, turning four of them into green paste with a single shot that also left a massive crater in the middle of the streets. Suddenly, the Orks stopped and started to slowly back away. There momentum was broken?
Ionia wondered if it was because of the advancing artillery from this nutty Commissar who suddenly showed up to save the proverbial day, but no… it was now that she looked up and saw THEM. Guardsmen in bright yellow armor with face visors painted in shark's teeth streaming down the sides of the trench-works like a yellow avalanche.
These men answered the Commissars prior words like crazed savages charging into the fray without fear or even the slightest concern for their will being while screaming the salute, "Better to die in defiance than live as a coward!"
Each man ran towards the Orks weapons blazing, topping the trenches running full blast into the Green Horde, it was like a crazed yellow wave of hornets, and besides them, like a giant mechanical bodyguard was a single yellow Dreadnought with back-mounted rocket pods, plasma launchers and flame throwers mounted upon its arms, and a giant red angry face painted upon its chassis. There was also a motif written upon the Dreadnoughts shoulder, 'FUCK YOU COCKSUCKER,' in poorly written font.
"I-SWEAR-I-WILL-BURN-YOU-ALL-BURN-MOTHER-FUCKERS-BURN-BURN-BURN-BURN!" yelled the monotone vox ponder of the dreadnought as it opened fire with its duel flamethrowers instantly cooking dozens of Orks where they stood, the Xenos screamed in agony as they collapsed into partially incinerated mounds of green meat.
"Follow Dangerous Dan!" yelled one of the yellow armored guardsmen with a raised fist towards the sky, ushering his men forward in heroic pose. What was surprising wasn't his bravery, no, what was surprising was that his men eagerly rushed into the fight against the Orks. Yes, Orks, savage, ruthless, brutal, and damn near unkillable thick skimmed Orks, to whom a lasrifle might as well be a primitive pee-shooter.
Ionia and Mercy watched them advance with the artillery support from the Basilisk, each man running into the fray with the artillery unit acting as a frontline Lemon Russ tank. As heroic as these men and their Commissar seemed, what was truly absurd was that cursing Dreadnought blowing up a series of Orks with several well placed Plasma bursts.
"YOU-FUCKERS-I-WILL-KILL-YOU-ALL-AND-MAKE-YOU-INTO-A-CANVAS-TENT-FOR-MY-BODY! I-WILL-SQUISH-YOU-LIKE-ROACHES! I-WILL-SKULL-FUCK-YOUR-BABIES! I-DON'T-CARE-IF-I'M-TRAPPED-IN-THIS-DAMN-THING-I-WILL-FIND-A-WAY!"
"Hey bitches!" it was a yellow armored guardsmen stopping briefly from his murdering, standing over the two stunned female guardsmen like a defiant hero, his feet spread out between the two sides of the trenches, "What are you waiting for. These guys aren't that tough!"
"Who are you people?" Asked Ionia still in shock as several large explosions erupted nearby. She looked over the rise of the trench just in time to watch several Ork limbs fell from a recently fire engulfed machine gun emplacement that the giant yellow Dreadnought had obviously smited before continuing its rampage through the city streets.
"YOU-FUCKING-PIG-SHIT-XENOS-SCUM-SMELL-LIKE-FUCKING-CHICKEN! WHEN-THIS-SHIT-IS-OVER-I-WILL-EAT-ONE-OF-YOU! YOUR-BLOOD-WILL-LUBRICATE-MY-BODY! I-WILL-FUCKING-SMEAR-IT-OVER-ME-LIKE-CHOCLATE! IT-WILL-BRING-ME-GREAT-PLEASURE-TO-WEAR-YOU-LIKE-FUCKING-CLOTHING! JUST-THINKING-ABOUT-IT-GIVES-ME-A-FUCKING-MACHINE-STIFFY!"
"Who are we? Why we're 'The Sons of Ollanius Pius!' Think of us as a private regiment of the Imperial Guard dedicated to upholding his principles," Motioned the guardsman enthusiastically with his rifle despite the carnage occurring all around him.
They both looked at him unblinking. Ollanius Pius, the Saint of the Imperial Guard who had given his life in defiance to Horus and defense of the Emperor as he lay wounded aboard the Chaos Flagship during the Siege of Terra. This… it was a… private regiment, dedicated in his honor?
"A private regiment?" asked Mercy with a look of confusion. To the best of her knowledge the Imperial Guard did not have private regiments, mercenaries, sure, but private regiments?
"Yeah, we all hail from the Angry Marines recruitment worlds and serve as a private regiment loyal to their banner. Most of the Angry Marines themselves are recruited from the children of our soldiering ranks in order to guarantee that only the most ballsiest and insane mother-fuckers serve in their Legion. Where else do you think they would get so many demented mother-fuckers willing to throw themselves in front of the absolute worst trash that the universe can throw at humanity!?"
"So, Ollanius Pius is your inspiration, then what does that mean you stand for?" asked Ionia in a state awe as she peered over the trench, catching a glimpse of true valor as yellow armored men rushed some very confused Orks. Men, she saw mortal men pushing back the green tide with nothing but their bare hands and bravery in their breasts as if possessed by demons of the warp. So many died, but the Orks… this thing they suddenly fought… it was truly something totally different from what they normally encountered against humans. These men truly didn't care if they lived or died, and it showed in how utterly relentlessly they pushed into the green storm.
"HA, what else," laughed the yellow armored guardsmen, "To fight and die without giving a crap about our bodies. To fuck with Chaos wherever we find it regardless of the consequences to ourselves. We've allied ourselves with the Angry Marines because at our cores we both share a common belief… and that belief is one that can be summed up in two simple words that the once legendary Ollanius Pius once yelled in Horus's face…"
..And on that note the guardsmen turned towards a group of charging Orks and opened fire with his lasrifle while yelling those two glorious words at the top of his voice, "FUUUUUUUUUUUCK YOOOOOOOOOOOU!"