I apologize immensely for the delay in this chapter. Lack of inspiration is a very terrible thing to have as a writer, and the fact that this carried on for over one entire month is unacceptable.
As most reviewers appear to have been anons, I suppose I'll reply to the reviews here.
Muad'zin - Who knows with the fluff these days, it seems to change on a regular basis. I suspect there will be some revelations for our gullible Raven Guard, eventually. :).
C. Anonymous - It does, but Power Armour is rather heavy. As Fidelis hasn't really made much of an attempt to be stealthy insofar, the armour makes a fair amount of noise. Lieutenant Briggs will make further appearances, and I might just give a full re-write to Chapter 3. Belthius is more of an action character, he'd prefer to do his duty to the Emperor by striking down His foes, rather than act like the Ecclesiarchy. The book was not the Codex Astartes, the Dark Angels have no need in reading out Ultramarine-written fluff on a mission.
Mattmaster112 - No hate to the Ultramarines from me. I've written a few humor fics in the past, so I sometimes like to include some wit or a running gag into a serious story. Not to mention the Primarchs of the respective Chapters dislike each other. Sorry if I have offended you!
My thanks to all the other reviewers who praised this story!
Cypher checked his various weaponry as he prepared for the doubtlessly incoming ambush. With word that the Voice of the Emperor himself was in the system, the Dark Angels would undoubtedly make for the planet, and seek to capture him. Cypher intended to deny them that satisfaction. With luck, the Dark Angels would be focused on him, their attention temporarily drawn away from the Dawnstar and her passengers.
Cypher straightened, his midnight black armour creaking as he did so. He still wore the Power Armour of the Dark Angels before the Horus Heresy, covered with skeletal insignia. Cypher turned his two weapons of choice about in each hand, a bolt pistol in his right, a plasma pistol in his left, both master-crafted. Sheathed by his belt, he carried a sword sealed tightly within a scabbard. Cypher never used the blade during combat, and it was purely ceremonial, until he fulfilled its purpose.
He walked over to a window in his temporary residence, peering out at the city, from the window's shades. Smoke stirred from a few craters and ruins throughout the city, still fresh from the Imperial offensive. Cypher had watched silently from the shadows, as a significant part of the population had been systematically purged from the metropolis. The Imperium showed no mercy for rebellion, quashing it brutally and effectively. It was no longer the utopian dream he had fought for. The Emperor's dream had failed, permanently destroyed by the schemes of Horus and his dark masters. Since then, the Imperium had changed for the worse.
"In absentia luci, tenebrae vincunt," Cypher recited in fluid High Gothic. In the absence of light, darkness prevails.
"Yet we do our best work in the dark," came a reply. Cypher turned to look behind him, fingers squeezing the triggers of his pistols. Though his eyes told him nothing, Cypher was far from inexperienced when it came to stealth. His ears detected very faint breathing, and instinct told him he was not alone.
"Lord Cypher, you are under Imperial arrest. You will come quietly and without resistance to our Strike Cruiser. Failure to comply will result in being forcefully taken into custody, or at worst, your immediate termination."
Cypher was able to dimly see the outlines of his antagonists. About seven in total, and all Astartes. He mentally scoffed at the pitiful amount sent to bring him in. Perhaps the Dark Angels had been spread far too thin by the onset of Abaddon's 13th Black Crusade. Cypher simply grinned at the Astartes as he raised his twin pistols, making no move to surrender.
After a few moments, the voice spoke again. "So be it. May the Emperor have mercy on your soul, traitor."
Almost instantly, the Dark Angels advanced from the shadows. Cypher shot one as soon as they quit the darkness with his Plasma Pistol, the Astartes giving a gurgled yell as the plasma ate through his armour and skin in a matter of seconds. He was dead before he hit the floor. Twirling about, Cypher fired off both of his pistols, elicting two more shocked cries as they too died. Kicking over a table, he took cover beneath it as the Astartes opened fire. Normally, when one was pinned down by Astartes, their shots would be highly inaccurate. Cypher was not a normal being, and his shots never missed their targets. He downed another Dark Angel with a bolt shot straight into his larynx. The marine's throat erupted in a torrent of blood as he died. The remaining three had quickly flanked his cover, and Cypher shot one in the stomach with another bolt shell. Crumpling to the ground, another Astartes gave a swift horizontal swing, knocking both weapons from Cypher's grasp, as pain flared up both hands. As the Dark Angel moved to crush his head from above with a mighty fist, Cypher grabbed the offending arm, using the momentum to twist around him. Before the Space Marine could turn about, Cypher took hold of his helmet, and gave it a sharp twist. A mighty crack resounded throughout the room as the superhuman's neck was snapped.
That left one more Astartes, who gave Cypher no chance of preparation, coming at him with a frontal jab. Cypher blocked the blow with his arm, as the two giants exchanged moves. Cypher gave a sharp knee into the Space Marine's abdomen. Giving a winded gasp, as his ribcage had undoubtedly suffered damage, the Dark Angel stumbled, as Cypher reached for the combat knife sheathed on his enemy's chest. Gripping it successfully, he unsheathed it, and gave it a quick twirl, before stabbing it into one of the eyes located on the Astartes' visor. He gave a howl of pain, as he slammed Cypher away from him, causing him to hit the table. The Dark Angel reached a wall to lean on, as he slowly slid onto the ground, helmet facing Cypher. Cypher's fingers grasped for his Bolt Pistol, as he staggered upwards, heading towards the crippled Astartes.
"May He forgive you for trying," He solemnly intoned as he pulled the trigger. The bolt collided with the Astartes' forehead, blood spraying from the wound. Cypher walked over to the discarded Plasma Pistol, picking it up, as he slung both weapons onto his belt.
That should cause some trouble. Best disappear, and let them try and hound me for awhile.
Cypher exited the room like a ghost, making no sound, as he left the bodies behind.
One of the Astartes coughed, hacking up blood as he pulled himself upwards, resting on his hands and knees, as he tapped into the Vox channel. "Tactical Marine... Ioviel reporting. Squad dead, squad leader... dead. Fallen escaped. Still on-world. Pursue and capture, brothers. For... the Emperor."
Lieutenant Briggs marched through the residential complex, a squad of Cadian Shock Troops following his lead as he searched each room in the entire building. Deceived. He'd been damn deceived. The rebellion, the assisting Astartes, everything a sham. Such was what the Dark Angels had told the Cadian 17th when a Strike Cruiser had suddenly appeared in orbit over the Hive World. It all added up, when he thought about it. Who the rogue Astartes were, and who their ringleader was, was something the Dark Angels were tight-lipped about. All Briggs knew was that the leader was supposedly hiding out in this complex, and he was going to have to weather frak-tons of abuse from the Lord General. Luckily, his Colonel took the initiative, sending Briggs to root out the renegade, as he was the one who had talked to the Astartes.
"Fugging Space Marines and their secrecy," Briggs muttered under his breath. They arrived at the next room, and one of the Shock Troops kicked the door in. Pouring into the room, lasrifles raised, the Guardsmen quickly surveyed it.
"Nothing here, sir. It's long since been abandoned," reported his Sergeant, Karstan.
Briggs nodded in acknowledgement of the fact. "Upstairs," he ordered as the squad filed out moving towards the wooden stairs. They hadn't been cleaned in some time, Briggs noticed, as dust had collected over them. The stairs made plenty of noise, creaking as his men moved up them, their boots echoing throughout the area. Arriving lastly at the top, his troops had already secured the hallway, ensuring no harm came to their commander. Two rooms lay before them, opposite each other, a window seperating the doorways from each other. Nodding to his men, Briggs took the room on the right, Karstan the left.
The room Briggs entered was also abandoned, though bereft of the tidiness found in the lower levels. A few plates were scattered about, some broken, as a cabinet faced the doorway. A bed was propped up on the wall to the right of the doorway, while a window faced them from the left. Searching through the various nooks and crannies of the room, Briggs' foot brushed against something. Retracting his foot, he glanced downwards to see what it was. His eyes found a small doll, having evidently been carelessly dropped onto the floor, no doubt during evacuation. This was the room of a little girl. One that potentially perished during the chaos.
Briggs found that to be rather unsettling.
"Sir!" came a shout from the other room. His other men ceased their investigation immediately, streaming into the other room. Briggs followed soon afterwards, though not before collecting the doll.
"Holy Terra," Briggs breathed as he walked in. The room, obviously a parlour of some nature, was a complete mess. The table was overturned and broken glass littered the floor. Saying nothing of the six Astartes corpses that dotted the room. One still remained, leaning on the wall the doorway was carved into, to Briggs' right, breathing heavily as his armoured gauntlet clutched his abdomen. Blood caked his hand, and the floor.
"Non-fatal wound, miraculously," Karstan explained to Briggs, regarding the Astartes. "Though it will be, if he continues to bleed out. Adrian is hailing base on the Vox, as we speak, requesting medical attention. Whoever did this was good. Really fugging good, sir."
Briggs nodded in agreement. He believed it. He turned to the wounded Space Marine. "My lord, I will not press you for details as to what transpired here. Medical aid will be arriving for you shortly. However, we need to know where the inciter of the rebellion is currently located."
The Astartes chuckled at this, hacking up more blood as he did so. "You won't find him. Not now. He... He'll be near undetectable by now."
Briggs leaned forward. "With all due respect given, nobody can hide forever, lord."
The Dark Angel looked him directly in the eyes, fixing him with an utmost serious stare. "Our man can."
Briggs glanced back to his Sergeant, silently standing at his side, observing the exchange. "No point in sticking around, Karstan. Time to head back to base."
Karstan moved to obey at once, issuing out orders to the rest of the squad. Briggs walked out of the room, to stare out of the window located in the hallway. As he raised the neglected doll from his pouch, looking from it to the ruins outside, Lieutenant Briggs wondered how much needless bloodshed had occurred here.
And if there was any more to follow.
And, done! Hope you all enjoyed this Chapter. I've finished reading the amazing Legion novel by Dan Abnett. Definitely worth a read for fans of the Hydra! While this chapter wasn't as long as I'd have liked, it's beginning to resemble the writing style I have in mind for the story. This is also the first chapter where Fidelis, despite being the main character of the story, does not appear once in the chapter, instead focusing on those still left on the Hive World. I really wanted to explore Cypher's character, and I hope I did a decent job at portraying him, as characters like him are my forte. As per request, Lieutenant Briggs was given an extended point of view for this chapter. Once again, R&R at your leisure! Hopefully I still have readers...
Hydra Dominatus!
