Chapter Ten: Ragnarok

Stillness hung over Fusmouth like a plague. The whole city was silent that chilly, wintry morning. The only sound was the wind. Even Phlegethon produced no noise. The bodies of Thrasher and the Slaaneshi cultist were still in the square, frost accumulating on the cadavers. Standing in a loose semi-circle around them was the Sorority of Violence, weapons drawn and waiting for the enemy. Nobody spoke, nobody made any sudden moves.

Massacre rested her hands on the pommel of her eviscerator, staring straight ahead at the street in front of her, eyes half-lidded yet filled with bloodlust.
Carnage flitted her eyes to and fro every few seconds, a small grunt sending a blast of icy breath from her nose and mouth.
Cutthroat's open jaw had become numb from the cold, but it didn't bother her. Shifting her weight to her other foot, she activated her power axe.
Frenzy had not snorted any of her combat drugs, yet she was already twitching and shivering, slowly flexing her claws for the coming battle.
Lacerator's teeth chattered, making her near-mute giggling seem even more unsettling as she tapped a finger on her laspistol.
Bloodmaw sighed, holding her chainsword like a cane while her other hand was on her hip, licking her lips like a lioness to keep the blood surrounding her mouth from freezing.
Huntress pulled up her scarf and cracked her knuckles, drawing her power sword from her right side and her laspistol from her left.
Knives twirled Blood and Gore in each hand, stopping when she held them both icepick style, putting her arms at her sides.
Executioner opened and reopened her power fist-enclosed hand, each finger curling in individually as she took a deep breath.
Legion stood with one hand on her head, The Voices beginning to increase in volume, prompting a tiny whimper from the girl as the whispers became murmurs, the murmurs becoming growls.

The 750 or so Sisters had only been there for about fifteen minutes, but it had seemed as though an hour had passed with the relative inactivity of them. As hungry for a fight and thirsty for blood as the Sorority was, they kept their patience, knowing their prey would show up eventually.

And then they heard it. The crunching of snow underneath hundreds of feet. The clinking of many weapons. It surrounded them, starting quietly at first, the sound coming from each street leading to their position. They all seemed to be moving at the same time. Every Sister gripped her weapon just a little more tightly. Made sure her pistol was loaded and ready. Faces ranged from contained giddiness to grim expectance. They all seemed to think the same thought.

We're in for a fight.

The gangs came into view, all of them with the same silence possessing the Sorority. Their armaments were not as advanced as the Sisters', lacking in both chainswords and power weapons, yet they were still lethal and vicious-looking. Blades, bludgeons, stub guns, and various improvised things, Fusmouth's entire underworld seemed to be coming out to answer the Sorority's call for battle, using whatever they could buy or steal.

From the center avenue, which led north from the square, came the Centaurs, all 400 of them. The White Paw came from the eastern street, the Midtown Maniacs from the west. From the northeast came the Blackened, and the Slit Throats marched down the northwestern street. Behind the main gangs of Fusmouth were the various minor factions such as the Smelters, Grey Ghosts, and the West End Knaves. All in all they were twice the Sisters' number.

Then they all stopped, nearly as one. Fear and hesitation were painted on many of their faces, in contrast to the Sorority, whose expressions were stern as they stayed rooted to their position. Both sides stared at each other in anticipation, waiting for someone to make the first move. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife as the frosty wind snapped and whistled around the standoff. The silence of the two groups was deafening.

Until Massacre broke it with a single, lowly-spoken sentence.

"If you want us, come and get us."

A single yell sounded from the leader of the Centaurs, which became an earsplitting choir of roars as the criminals of Fusmouth charged at the Sorority. The Sisters stood firm, waiting for the distance to close. Weapons raised, guns cocked, chains growling, and desire for violence rising, only when the individual features of gang members became discernible did the Sorority raise a cry of their own and counter-charge.

Formation and coherency were washed away in a tide of bloody madness as the opponents clashed. The sounds of gunshots, snarling chain-weapons, blades colliding, and the screams of agony and ecstasy were audible for several districts, leaving the inhabitants cowering in fear as to what was happening. The world seemed to be ending, and it was ending in war. Many Fusmouth residents fell to their knees and beseeched the Emperor, desperately praying for forgiveness and His mercy on them. Others simply shook in terror, fearing more violence would erupt around them.

Time around Massacre seemed to slow to a stop as her eviscerator claimed a man in a diagonal swipe, the pieces of him crumbling into the increasingly reddening snow. Leaping over the body was another gang member with a knife in hand, who managed to both knock the weapon out of the Mistress' hand and land on top of her. Hitting the ground hard on her back, the banger plunged the knife into her shoulder, making Massacre yowl in pain as the blade withdrew the wound, the guy trying to stab her in the face. Raising her hands and locking onto his wrists to resist, the tip of his knife inched towards her, both Massacre and the thug wearing faces of furious determination. For a moment, the Mistress sensed a decrease in his strength, using that brief window of opportunity to shove the pommel of the knife into the man's nose, breaking it. As he howled and clutched at his face, Massacre rolled themselves over and wailed on him, her fists turning him into a bloody mess until she remembered her storm bolter and used it to finish him off. Rising, the Mistress recovered her eviscerator and Mark of Khorne-bearing Commissar's hat, letting out a roar as she strode forward, adrenaline shrugging off her injured shoulder.

So great was Carnage's bloodlust that she had inflicted the gangs' first casualty when the two met in melee combat, splitting the poor fellow vertically to the middle with her chainaxe. Kicking what remained of him away, a second gang member was immediately dealt with when he tried to attack from the right, the High Priestess slashing him across the torso, deep enough to be fatal. In a single fluid motion Carnage drew her bolt pistol and shot at two more men, killing one of them, while the other shot missed. As the second criminal closed in, the black-maned Sister suddenly dropped her weapons and reached for her neck as she felt a chain wrap around it, a third strangling her from behind. The vagabond in front of her grinned evilly as he got in her face, his foul breath burning her nostrils as he said, "Let's kiss that pretty face goodnight." He then cruelly gave her a hard right hook, followed by a left, then a punch to her stomach, making a bit of blood fly from her mouth. But Carnage wasn't going down that easily, channeling the pain from the blows into her already-boiling rage. Straightening back up just as the punk was about to finish her off with a knife, the High Priestess kicked him with both legs, sending him sprawling back. Taking advantage of the other thug's confusion as her feet reconnected to the ground, she then reached back and grabbed his head, twisting her body to fall over and land on her side, taking him down with her and breaking his chokehold. Before picking back up her chainaxe, Carnage quickly stabbed the strangler with her dagger and shot the other man as he got back up.

Cutthroat didn't sprint into the fray like her Sisters, instead she walked into it, power axe gleaming as energy crackled around it. Only when she killed her first of the day did Cutthroat finally raise a scream, bisecting the victim horizontally. Hunched over from the power she put into the attack left her vulnerable when a ganger tackled her from behind, Cutthroat's face hitting the snow-covered street. She then felt the pavement again. And again. She could hear the cartilage in her nose breaking. He was slamming her into the rock-crete. Her forehead split. Blood got in her eyes. She had enough. By some lunatic strength Cutthroat bucked the man off of her, rapidly turning the tables on him as she pulled out her brass dagger. Cutting, stabbing, slashing, gouging, the scarred blonde carved the criminal's face and neck to ribbons in a fit of inhuman savagery, her increasingly-hoarse shrieking the loudest she ever erupted. Throat burning, Cutthroat finally stopped, her breathing deep and slow and the red in her vision diminishing. Looking up from what was left of her victim, a witness to her demonstration stood frozen in horror. Quietly standing and recovering her axe, Cutthroat simply walked over to the still-petrified viewer and shot him in the face.

Frenzy took her first hit of stimulants just before the Sorority and gangs met, the snort turning into a breathy yowl as her running became a gallop, clambering on all fours. Lunging back up, Frenzy slashed at one of the gangers. It didn't kill him, but she didn't care, swatting at other men in her drug-induced fury. She managed to get several deep cuts into a few throats, and a few chest wounds, but none of her attacks instantly killed their receivers, instead bleeding them out either for her or another Sister to finish off. Totally immersed in the chaos, Frenzy's barking growls had a laughing tone as she snorted another dose of combat drugs, wildly clawing at anyone coming at her. So disconnected from reality made the drug-addled blonde barely register something stuck into her back, yet the pain that followed it seconds later made her snarl angrily. The thug who stabbed her stood dumbstruck for a moment, surprised his move had little effect. Just as he was about to make a second attempt, Frenzy spun around, the man barely getting out an "OH SHI-" before she poked her clawed fingers into his eyes, withdrawing them just as fast as she inserted them, following it up with a head-butt. Still not done, Frenzy dug her claws into his sides and then flung him away.

Not far from Frenzy stood Lacerator, her psychotic laughter hitting a high note as she decapitated a gangbanger, her chainaxe whining alongside her. "I'VE WAITED FOREVER TO FINALLY KILL AGAIN!" She screamed ecstatically to the sky, looking back down to see another criminal coming at her. Toothy grin widening, Lacerator raised her arms to strike downward in a two-handed attack, letting fly when the man somehow got his metal bar in between the head and shaft of her chainaxe, keeping it there with all his might. Pushing back, the brunette cackled, "JUST GIVE IT UP AND FUCKING DIE ALREADY! I AM A DAUGHTER OF KHORNE!" Despite this, the knave stood firm, his length of pipe the only thing between life and death. Inexplicably, he managed to win the struggle, taking advantage of Lacerator's surprise to give her a solid punch in the face, followed by a whack to her stomach with his weapon. Lacerator could feel her two lower ribs break as she fell to the ground, clutching the stricken area in pain. "Who's laughing now, you fucking psycho bitch?" Her attacker smiled evilly, raising the metal bludgeon that saved him. The brunette truly felt fear for a moment until she remembered her laspistol. Acting fast, Lacerator drew the gun just as he yelled, landing a shot in his chest seconds before impact. Staggering back, the banger dropped the pipe and pawed at the wound, and with some difficulty Lacerator got up, getting in his face. "I STILL AM!" She howled, nearly emptying her pistol clip into him, laughing all the while.

"YOU GUYS CALL YOURSELVES WARRIORS?!" Bloodmaw snarled as she hacked off an arm with her chainsword, executing her victim with a shot from her bolt pistol. "Y'ALL FUCKING SUCK!" She added, looking around for an opponent. "Oh really?" A deep voice resounded behind her, Bloodmaw turning to see an enormous man towering over her. Just as she was about to attack, the big guy backhanded her with a paw-like hand before lifting her by the neck, choking her. "PUT ME DOWN AND FIGHT LIKE A MAN!" the brunette roared, prompting him to tighten his grip. Already feeling lightheaded, Bloodmaw became increasingly desperate for an escape, glancing down to notice her feet were at about the same level as the giant's crotch. With nearly all her strength, the brunette kicked him, making a squeaky wail of pain tear from his throat as he dropped her and fell to his knees. Hitting the ground hard, Bloodmaw spent a moment gulping up the blood-scented air before retrieving her weapons. Looking the large man in the eye as he was still keeled over, she mockingly asked him, "Don't you boys ever think of protecting that?" before driving her chainsword into his face.

Huntress skillfully dispatched another thug with her power sword, hitting him in the head with the blade's handguard before slicing downwards across his right shoulder. The dirty blonde was about to move forwards when a banger boy dead-legged her left leg from behind, causing her to fall to her other knee. Before she knew what happened next, her head had been upturned as the vagrant opened a large switchblade and ran it across her scarf. Panic flooded her mind until she heard a tiny scraping noise as the flick-knife went across her neck, remembering the metal choker she always wore underneath the black scarf covering her nose and mouth. A tremendous sigh of relief escaped her, Huntress thanking Khorne she'd live to fight another day. The small smile she grinned from the revelation turned evil as her supposed killer uttered, "What the fuck?!" Grabbing the arm holding her head in place, Huntress pulled on it and stood up at once, effectively judo-flipping the criminal to land in front of her, the top of his head parallel to her feet. She then stomped on his face, then recovered her saber to impale him in the chest.

Close to the lamppost from which Thrasher hung was Knives, who had made a few potshots at nearby enemies with her bolt pistol, none of them connecting. Before she could curse her bad luck, a thug armed with a nail-driven bat charged at her, the young brunette near-instinctively kicking him into the streetlight. Instead of shooting him, Knives tried to stab him, holstering the gun as she closed in the short distance. Unfortunately for her, the banger's stun didn't last long. With a desperate yell he counter-charged and tackled her, throwing punches upon hitting the ground. Knives could feel her left eye begin to swell and the right side of her lip bust, defensively raising her arms to block more attacks. Glancing over to her side, she saw that Blood, the knife she normally held in her left hand, was just barely able to be reached, trying to grab it. Unfortunately for her, he noticed, quickly pinning her hand down. Knives grabbed at his face with her other hand, hooking a leg around his. After several seconds of struggling, she managed to roll the two of them over, socking her opponent in the face and drawing Gore to stab him in the forehead.

A dull boom resounded from Executioner's power fist as she punched a thug in the head, turning it into red paste. Turning on her heel she backhanded another charging banger, leaving a large crater in his ribcage. "COME ON, YOU SCUM! FUCKING FIGHT ME!" The young blonde bellowed, standing alone amidst the raging battle. Despite the deafening noise, Executioner swore she heard feet running towards her from behind, her senses correct when she felt herself thrown forward as a vagabond dropkicked her. Luckily, Executioner didn't receive any serious spinal injuries, yet the shock and pain still elicited an anguished cry from her, fearing her oath was nullified. I'm sorry, Mom, she thought, as the criminal, wielding a large shillelagh, closed in. Take me. I failed. Executioner awaited the inevitable, feeling both sorry and angry at herself.
Get up.
Mom? Is that you?
Get up. Your time hasn't come yet.
Whether or not Executioner's sense of self-preservation kicked in or the spirit of her mother really did speak to her, she rolled out of the way just as the club came down, hitting the bloody snow with a loud crack. Springing to her feet, the young blonde ran her power fist through the man's stomach, going through him. With a sickening sound, Executioner slowly withdrew the hand and rammed it back into his face.

The Voices had become even more manic and feverish in Legion's mind than usual, perhaps because this was the largest fight she had fought thus far, and she was definitely in sync with their demands for bloodshed. "FEEL…OUR…WRATH..!" She screamed with them, madly cutting a man nearly in half from the shoulder. The gang members not engaged with a Sister wisely stayed away from Legion, for fear of receiving the business end of her chainsword. That is, until one, armed with a stub gun, took a shot at her. KILL MORE! KILL MORE! KI- The Voices suddenly fell silent. The red in Legion's vision evaporated. She screamed. The banger had shot her in the thigh. It was Legion's first gunshot wound of any kind, and it was bleeding profusely. It seemed as though this would immobilize her, but The Voices had rerouted the agony back into their thirst. ARE YOU GOING TO LET THAT FUCKING COWARD GET AWAY WITH THAT?!They all snarled as one, HE DIDN'T HAVE THE FUCKING GUTS TO FACE YOU! HE SHOT YOU LIKE A FUCKING WEAKLING! SHOW HIM HOW TRUE WARRIORS FIGHT, GIRL! MAKE HIM FUCKING SUFFER!"FUCKING SUFFER!" Legion enunciated the last two words with her mental choir, running at her shooter at full speed. Her first swing with the chainsword, thanks to her renewed fury, bisected him horizontally, yet The Voices urged Legion to keep hacking at what remained of the banger even as the pieces fell to the ground, quite literally leaving nothing left of him. You've done Khorne proud.

The distinctive crack of lasguns filled the air as the PDF appeared from the center street, the first three ranks firing a volley into the warzone, dropping gang members and Sisters alike. Inquisitor Backett, standing on the right side of the regiment, ordered an advance. "No prisoners, men! Take none of the heretics alive!" Massacre, her face covered in blood, most of it not hers, yelled in return, "TIME TO RUN, GIRLS!" The Sorority had planned to escape when the PDF would arrive, using both the east- and westbound streets and regrouping outside town. Adrenaline masking any injuries received, the Sisters broke off the fight and ran, the gangs joining them to avoid the soldiers' wrath. "Double-time, kill any who resist!" bellowed Graic.

The Sorority had entered the square that morning 750 strong, and left with 710. Forty dead and dying Sisters were scattered throughout the area, including ten initiates. Inquisitor Backett, staying behind as the PDF regiment chased the remainders down, walked through the battlefield, Zero-Six-Nineteen in tow. He was hoping to find a Sister who wasn't quite dead, so that he could get a lead on where the rest were fleeing to before her last breath. Yup, these girls are Khornates alright, he rather casually noted, looking at the many mutilated corpses of Fusmouth's underworld. Two bodies in particular caught his attention, those of said Khornates. One was a woman maybe in her late forties, her dead, golden eyes staring upward at nothing. The other was far younger, a teenage girl around sixteen, laying on top of the other, seemingly in defense. A longer look at the two made Graic realize they were mother and daughter, who had fought and died together. Sickening. "Are they-" Sergeant Boniface was about to ask him about the exact same thing, the Inquisitor cutting him off with a curt "Yup." Zero-Six-Nineteen all gawked at the sight, having never conceived of such a thing as parents and their children fighting side by side. Backett heard them express their surprise at the notion, turning to them with a simple

"Told you this isn't fiction."

And that's it for the revised chapters. I might redo more, but only if I have the time to and you all demand it. I'm also thinking about deleting and rewriting Chronicles of Bloodmane, that is, if you even know it exists. If you want me to do that too, let me know in a review or message!