"Second...Report in…..Hargrove!...Copy ordr…?"

The shockingly loud words were replaced with harsh static which buzzed incessantly in Michal's ears, audible even over the shrill shrieks of the heretics that swarmed over his platoon's former positions.

Cracking open his watering eyes, he glimpsed a small square of blue sky above him, slightly obscured by the pollutants, and gun smoke that filled the air. His whole body felt like it was one raging inferno, spikes of pure agony exploding up and down his battered limbs and torso. Oblivious to the risk he created himself, he rolled onto his stomach, pushed himself onto all fours, and proceeded to vomit blood and bile onto the ground in front of him.

Groaning with pain as he looked up, Michal struggled to piece together the sights that greeted his eyes. The stubber still sat in front of him with its barrel shattered. Dimly to his right he saw the bunker his platoon had been sent to neutralize was still intact, along with the few remains of Lieutenant Hargrove's Command squad. And there, a small glint among the death and destruction, was the still intact melta gun that Clem had carried. The relentless training that had been given to him rung in his mind, forcing him to gather any weapon he could. Desperately , he crawled, slithering his body over the ground towards Clem's desecrated body, and her meltagun, the shouts, chanting, and cries of the traitors scum they fought growing ever closer.

His fingers brushed the gore covered casing of Clem's meltagun, his friends warm sticky lifeblood adhering to his own body as his dragged the weapon off her broken form. "I'm sorry Clem. I tried. " he spluttered with his own bloodied lips, laying a hand on her. Looking around as much as he was able, he spied the bunker doorway not a handfull of metres away, and with an oath to the God Emperor, he half crawled, half shambled his way to its relative safety, turning to look back at the heretics swarming towards his former support position. Shuddering, he crouched down in the bunker, granted a momentary respite from the coming danger.

"When entering battle, The imperial guardsman will have his weapon fully charged, and and ready in all respects to dispense death to the enemies of mankind."

His breath coming in short stuttering bursts, he threw his untrained eye over its workings, trying to catch a glimpse of some kind of fuel gauge or power meter. Grasping what seemed to be the fuel tank for the weapon, he found a small simple indicator, displaying the number 6, from which he gathered he had 6 shots left before he ran out of ammunition.

"Should the Guardsman find himself surrounded, he shall fight till the last breath of air leaves his body, Until his ammunition is expended, and when he does die, it shall be with a prayer to the God-Emperor on his lips"

And as the tenets of The Imperial Infantryman's Uplifting Primer demanded, he began to mumble out his final prayer.

"Though he no longer walks with us, his undying soul sees all who fight for him and gives them strength".

He flicked the knob on the fuel tank, priming the melta gun for use.

"Through the fires of war, and the depths of heresy, his light shines brightly, guiding us on the path he has set us in life"

The melta made its way to rest across his chest, his hands gripping its charred holds tightly, finger resting on the trigger.

"No death of the faithful shall be in vain, for by their sacrifice, they hold true to his imperium. Death in service of the Emperor, is the most noble death a citizen can ask for."

The melta gun was raised, its stock seated into his shoulder, the barrel sweeping around to poke out of the doorway.

"From the darkness, and the tempest, Emperor deliver me to your side". He finished, his mind suddenly still, before the world shattered once again. The heretics advancing on the bunker let out a screaming howl as the Buzz of high powered Hotshot Lasguns suddenly filled the air, blasts of ruby red light searing into their flesh.

With their Grav-Chutes screaming, two squads of black and red clad Storm Troopers smashed into the ground, Hotshot Lasguns flashing continuously, decimating the heretic horde in its tracks.

Fanning out, the stormtroopers continues their unrestrained, yet disciplined fire into the crowd of heretics, a mere 20 of them holding off the hundreds strong horde. Dumbstruck, Michal watched their expertly executed maneuvers, still crouched with his taken melta gun poised ready to fire. With a start, he pulled the trigger, shocked by the sudden grenade blast close by, the beam tearing into the ground as his arm spasmed.

"I was unaware that the ground was our enemy", came a voice from behind him, cool, clear, and strident amidst the chaos outside. Spinning around, and unceremoniously losing his balance, Michal thumped onto the ground on his butt.

"Forgive me for defending the poor guardsman sir, but i think you took him by surprise", came a second voice, more softly than the first, but still holding all the same authority.

Standing just inside the huge hole that his platoon had blasted into the front wall of the bunker, was a pair of people one dressed in ornate, yet fully functional gold inlaid armour, the other in Carapace armour. The person on the left of the pair, a man, stood tall, at least 6'5, and was built like a small Ogryn, Albeit, one which actually looked intelligent. Clenched in a gauntleted hand was a massive, silver plated storm bolter, its drum feed gleaming in shimmering light given off by his power sword, held at the low ready position in their other hand. Flowing patterns of golden script wove their way over the entirety of his armour, almost seeming to shimmer with unnatural power. The face that rose from the collared chest piece was gravely drawn, a frown creasing his noble brow. A tightly cropped head of Greying hair covered his skull. And finally, and perhaps the thing that filled Michal with the greatest fear, was a small I shaped insignia on the man's armour.

"Oh frag, no, no! Not them, please in the Emperor's name not them", he thought desperately to himself, remembering the stories some of the veterans had told him round the fires at night.

The second person wore a helmet similar to the Sabbat pattern worn by the Adepta Sororitas, again with the obsidion black I signature in the middle of the helmets forehead. She, and yes, the second person was very clearly a female, was clad in silvery grey Carapace armour, head to toe, but despite this, her figure defined her from her counterpart whom she stood considerably shorter than. She bore none of the gold inlays on her armour, and bore a simple officers power sword, and laspistol, along with all the standard equipment of a stormtrooper, from grenades, to an Auspex.

"Who….Wh...Who are you?", stuttered out Michal, pointing the melta gun at the pair, its barrel quivering as a display of his fear.

The frown on the man deepend at his question, dark brown eyes seeming to bore into Michal's head with the intensity of his gaze

"We? Suffice yourself with knowing, we are the ones who command the troops outside, who are now saving your life", came the voice once again.

"You...Those are your stormtroopers?", asked Michal, voice still shaking, the meltagun becoming heavy in his arms.

"Sir, forgive me for speaking out of turn, but are you sure of your choice? He seems far too fragile to me", came the sudden words of the woman Michal took to be the man's subordinate.

"Yes Lisle", replied the man, glancing at her for a moment. "Thus spoke the Emperor's Tarot. And you have seen his abilities for yourself. Now, silence." he commanded.

Unnoticed by Michal, wrapped up in his fear as he was, the sounds of hell gun fire had ceased outside the bunker, and a silent, masked stormtrooper stood in the doorway now.

Glancing at this man, the person in the Gold armor gave a simple command.

"Take him. We leave now".

Those were the last words Michal heard him speak, and for the second time in less than 20 minutes, Michal was smashed into unconsciousness by the stormtroopers hotshot lasgun.


Hello once again everyone.

I do apologize for the enormous lag between updates to this story, and my others. Between moving house, and concluding Uni for the year, I haven't had much time for writing. But thank you for sticking with me through all of it.

So enjoy Guardsman to greatness chapter 3, and i'll see you folks soon.

~Snake of the West