Chapter 8: New Hope Born, Old Beliefs Forsworn
(Squad Lead Vince Erikson POV)
The screams of daemons in genuine fear and pain were, in a way, worse than the usual howling they did. I was just happy the daemons were too focused on Farris, the much more threatening giant wolf, and the power-armored woman tearing holes in the bird daemon with her funny looking daggers. Admittedly I never thought of using webs like a spider in a fight. Still, the woman fighting the daemon absolutely showed me I was wrong. Nets as thick as men were thrown to bind the gigantic bird daemon to ever daemon nearby, trapping them tighter together the more they struggled. I could hear the squawks and screeches of pain and panic from the daemon, along with a new mantra I quite liked the sound of in its cries. "Not as planned! Not as planned!"
I wasn't really paying much attention to all the mayhem, twisting at the wheel to keep the chimera away from the little burning daemons who seemed so spitefully determined to set us all ablaze. "That the best speed you got, you little limp-wristed, grox piss drinking, slow as God Emperor be-damned slugs posing as daemons!? Come on, already, work for it!" Pate seemed to still be going strong, providing far too much expertise at this whole distraction business. Kotei had even joined in, lending a pretty deep vocabulary to the stream of insults. From the screams of both the daemon commanders, though, these strange warriors might win, with all of Epsilon squad surviving as well.
The older PDF squads as well, but I wasn't sure who they even were except skilled lunatic badasses. Evelyn wasn't even using just the in-built lasgun, but both that and a hellgun through one of the firing slits with one hand. From what I could see, she wasn't even the only one who had lost any sense. Bella was stretched out between two of the lasguns where Farris had stood, handling them both far too well to not have any experience in it. Farque was doing something similar, while Wright took the support as an excuse to pop his head in and out to fire outside or throw grenades. They were all laughing at this point, cracking jokes, or in general, acting as if this weren't some warzone.
Jones was still on the smoke launcher, using it as riot gear to either keep the entire battlefield cloaked in smoke or knock some of the screaming flyers from the sky with the canisters. He bragged that he didn't even need real guns to get kills as those he shot down were usually set upon by its 'allies' or eaten by the giant wolf. Pate and Kotei were getting in on it, Kotei betting Pate that he'd have helped the lady warrior more in killing the giant bird daemon. Pate laughed and retorted that he was doing far more of the work. Throughout it all, one thing I noted was that Darius wasn't talking.
The silence was pleasant but confusing. Darius had certainly had plenty to say to all of us before. Yet, he seemed content to let us cavort like madmen in the most dangerous moment. Things could quickly reverse through any number of factors, yet no complaints came. He was I noted with quick peeks behind me, smiling calmly as if calmer than the plains at mid-seasons. A risk, but I liked to take the direct route. So I just asked what the hell had changed, where the party had started. Darius paused, unsure as the others carried on without any care. I wasn't complaining necessarily, but Darius seemed to have been granted these guys as reinforcements quick once the mission was outlined to the Colonel.
They seemed more than willing to follow Darius' orders, even though they might've held seniority or experience on him. Let alone heedlessly volunteering for a suicide mission alongside him. They worked well together, hopped to on his orders with familiarity, and never seemed to be genuinely insane, just wild in their demeanor and tactics. "They were my father's old squad, all of them together in the Imperial Guard before father retired. My mother as well, and a few others. When my mother found out I was coming, my father got lucky. The Blood Ravens had a group of scouts trapped behind ork lines. The Imperial force closest was my father's squad. They decided the best method to let up the Blood Ravens scouts' pressure was to launch a deafening and very distracting assault against their Warboss.
Behind enemy lines, with no immediate support inbound and no reason to believe their strike would work. Since I am standing here, and my father currently awaits us at Haven, they succeeded. Too well, in actually. Their plan was to topple a building in the city the Blood Ravens scouts were hiding in, serve as a distraction, and the cue for their own escape as they fled with orks following if not that closely. Instead, the fallen structure buried the ork Warboss under several tons of rubble. Thus, they had to run, while chased by many aggrieved orks intent to pursue them across the planet for revenge. The Blood Ravens were supposedly as impressed as such 'unconventional strategies amused them.' Thus, my father was given a chance to retire. The offer extended to everyone in the squad if they joined the PDF for a few years. My mother never survived my birth, but Sigma Squad was kind enough to teach me a great many things." He narrated calmly.
(Markus POV)
Discounting the significant risks, killing daemons was quite therapeutic. Their screams empowered the Void, allowing the newly born Shades I was making throughout the battlefield to last a little longer and thus keep killing daemons for me. Such daemons would suffer True Death then, their terror peaking before their souls were broken down into morsels for the Void with myself left with slivers the Void gave back. It was a lovely cascading system of escalating power. The bloodmaster, Gorehorn, was obviously aware of the tenuous balance of power as I grew all the more potent with every second. Servants of Khorne, on the physical plane, were more than ideals of bloodshed and battle personified. They were supernaturally skilled enough to make every technological and biological enhancement in me seem like children's toys.
Its' natural strength could overpower an Astartes in full power-armor. Its speed able to literally break reality around it. Its prowess and experience in martial skills were honed over generations. They were enough to serve as the orkish equivalent of Valhalla. In a straight contest of fighting skill between him and me, I would lose no matter how hard I tried. I'd make him work for it, but the terrain was hilariously enough to his advantage. Just close enough to the Warp to leave his greater strength unneeded for maintaining his corporeal body. After all, I was restrained by my limited human anatomy, only able to be enhanced so much before I could become no more formidable. But I could do better than any daemon when I was pushed to the limit. I could cheat the rules to my advantage, as the simple fact, there were stars and a sun providing light.
A darkness that I could manipulate to expand and abuse all the more as twilight set in. The sun rested just above the battleground and set at the same time thanks to the warp storm's uncertainties. The stars were still visible and shining down at varying illumination levels, creating a pulsing effect of mayhem as the warp storm churned harder amidst the powers trapped within it. I abused that advantage. Shades were thrown at the bloodmaster from the moving dusk forest at our feet. They flew through the air and even under my weapons as I struck out with them. An army of far lesser constructs of the Void whittled away the bloodmaster from every direction, a death by five thousand cuts. Maw, observant, and the bright bug he was, learned well from my example to assault his aggressors.
Maw didn't entirely stop eating his opponents as he simply expanded the definition of the word. His specter underneath him solidified in imitation of me, lashing out to both mirrors his actions and compliment them. His 'phantom maw' struck with no respect for physics as was wise. Elongating through the silhouettes of others as if it lurked underneath every shadow to eat the unwary. The three brass scorpions found themselves pulled apart. The daemons powered the daemon engines consumed from underneath, and the metal shredded. Maw had even learned to apparently use the concepts he'd taken in from the Khornates he'd eaten. His mandibles grew a distinct sheen, stygian Blackstone edges sharp enough to pierce any material defense and most others with ease. His feelers cracked with the strength and skill to surpass the whips used by Khornate berserkers, trailing Void flames in the air as they swung about.
Even Maw's carapace took on the qualities of his prey, the black backside threaded with Blackstone and his underside steaming with heat to melt those he crushed in his coils. I saw it all at work, every death, and strike through the eyes of every shade I spawned. My strikes against Gorehorn growing ever more damaging, debilitating. Closer to True Death, as the bloodmaster's fear itself serving as a way to both predict his attacks and wreak more lethal wounds. At the most critical moment, Gorehorn struck just as I was about to smash his skull. A pirouette around a ground shattering strike let me stab my sword into his chest to impale him into the ground. Dual axes came for my throat, a critical strike that would've unleashed a tide of my blood in recompense. I twisted my body away, my Shade pulling on my feet and upper body to dance back.
I leveled the Tyr and fired into Gorehorn's skull. A bullet of Blackstone, filled with the power of Void, pierced then shattered it. His body dissolved like runny blood. The other daemons nearby still tried to fight on, take my corpse for Khorne, and whatnot. Maw and I disabused them of the idea. Without a leader to unite them all, their unity fell apart. Bloodletters were cut down quickly, the lack of harmony or a leader ruining their ability to work together against us. They had no one able to fight as Gorehorn did against me, only able to try and bury me in their numbers. Maw brought down juggernauts of brass and hate, flesh hounds were riddled with holes from my Tyr. In the distance, the final scream of a Lord of Change signaled Tharja's victory. Both daemon armies collapsed really, no organization in their ranks. They were easy pickings, both armies dead in a half hour.
I went over to the other battleground, instructions to Aranea to pick up her mines. She would meet us deeper into the continent. But first, I would need to ask the locals a few questions. Like where the Blood Ravens were. How long Aurelia had been in the warp storm exactly. Depending on their answer, I might very well save more lives, and an Astartes chapter in my debt would be immeasurably useful. The man from earlier got off Ferro, the chimera emptied out to present themselves as Tharja met me halfway. Maw and Ferro kept back, blessedly far enough to not seem so threatening. Though I was surprised, I certainly shouldn't have been to see teenagers fighting. There were weirder and more disturbing things to go down in Warhammer 40k.
(Squad Lead Vince Erikson)
Staring up at these two and their weird pets were more than a little intimidating. For once, the silence came back, too silent as the bodies of the daemons were dissolving in oddly colored flames I'd usually associated with psykers. It made sense. These two were powerful, but more would be needed to singlehandedly triumph against a pair of daemon armies. The lady seemed content to stare, not making much noise. The man hesitated before unclasping his helm and taking it off. Beneath, his eyes were black with a ring of brown near the center. Definitely, a psyker then, and powerful if he could fight off daemons with such talents and not risk corruption. His face was a tough thing, seeming young if Juve-nat wasn't a thing to extend lives, with a black beard and short black hair. He visibly looked us over, pausing when he examined Epsilon Squad in particular. If he said we were too young to fight, I honestly would've tried to punch him in the face.
Powerful or not, I wouldn't let anyone insult us just because we were young. No one was young on Aurelia, not anymore. He didn't, speaking slowly as if unsure if we could understand him. "My name is Markus, my partner here is Tharja. Thank you for the distraction. Risky, as it was, to ride a chimera like that, it was well done." His words were measured, voice quiet, but enunciated enough to carry in the tundra winds. I swelled a bit with pride, to be appreciated by such an honored warrior. Even if it was just lip service, it was still heartwarming. The rest of the squad did as well, relieved smiles from Sigma squad and Darius appearing.
"If nothing else, I appreciate the lack of questions on certain matters." Lord Markus said, pointedly glancing at the giant wolf and bug monster apparently under his command. For all I knew, he was one of the infamous Inquisitors. Rumors abounded about them, rarely seen on Aurelia, and always somehow around to make dealings or absurdly enough demands with the Blood Ravens. "But I will, unfortunately, require more from you all. Specifically, I would request a map of the local environment regarding any recent changes with the warp storm. How long said warp storm has lasted, and even the last known location of the Blood Ravens. If you could escort me to your superior." He rattled off, with the cadence of someone used to having his orders followed. Almost definitely an Inquisitor then, to have the help he did, so few yet elite forces of his own and such commanding presence.
Darius blessedly took command, offering transport back to the city in the chimera where the suspected Inquisitor could talk to his father. I didn't really have words to speak, too intimidated by a man who could land on a world caught in a warp storm and kill daemon armies with such nonchalance. Words were barked at the war beasts, 'Maw' and 'Ferro' meant to follow us as an escort to the city. Hopefully, they would stay outside of the walls. Colonel Price wouldn't be happy if they started a riot right after stopping an incursion. Let alone pissing off an Inquisitor and his lady psyker bodyguard. At least he seemed impressed with my driving skills, complimenting that, 'you can certainly drive better than I could at your age.'
(Markus POV)
Strange as it was to be mistaken for an Inquisitor, it was also quite useful. The local PDF was almost too respectful, hopping to my suggestions like orders and seeming immensely grateful that I wasn't trying to shoot them as 'heretics' every two seconds. Meeting Colonel Price was enlightening that such a grizzled, no-nonsense man was picked personally by the Blood Ravens to serve as PDF for their homeworld. In less than five minutes of being introduced, I had been offered a drink (it was good, but Hennessey was better) told the rough timeline of events and the current strategic situation.
It wasn't a pretty picture. The warp storm had been present around Aurelia for an estimated five years and five months. An auspicious number. The daemons had been raiding Haven with growing intensity since then, attacking the scavengers who tried to venture into the hive cities and massing in the tundra before laying siege every eight months on average. An ominous number worsened when I realized that the last attack was then the 6th to happen so far. I suggested an idea to Colonel Price, the Colonel amenable to a bit of paranoia. Tharja slipped out to hunt for any followers of Slannesh lurking amid the confusion of the broken siege.
The worst, though, was the numbers, the cold hard facts that couldn't be denied. Haven wouldn't survive two more assaults, the rations were running out, the ammo was equally diminishing, and they were running out of people to man the lines. The first two problems would require an expedition to a hive city, with dozens of men and women scavenging for rations and ammo amid the daemon and mutant haunted ruins. I could certainly go with them, but as the colonel put it, I would be operating off of mostly luck and the God-Emperor's grace for any success rather than much intel. A plan for later maybe, but as for the casualties, I could solve that more immediately.
My request to be shown to the wounded was accepted with some confusion, Colonel Price escorting me personally to the hospice building. A warehouse that once housed the PDF stores of armored vehicles before they were placed at the fortifications. The scent of blood and screams of the injured was familiar enough to be ignored for now. I advanced on the closest of the thousands in the converted warehouse, a man with burns across his skin and split stomach haphazardly stitched back together. The scent of stomach acid was telling; this man would only live with immediate and advanced care in my time. Not to mention, he would need more than a little luck. Instead, I laid a hand on him.
Newton coordinated the nanites in my blood through my skin and into the man on the cot. With nanites to break down the rot settling into his body, rebuild damaged skin tissue, and lower his metabolism, he was soon fresh as if moments away from waking up. Gasps from those who had observed me, I ignored them. A quick examination proved Newton's good work, a silver swarm of nanites crawling up my hand. Blessedly, no one saw the shadow at my feet twitching away from the man's own. Nor would anyone notice that everyone I treated had the memories of receiving their wounds suspiciously hazy. A small price to pay, the Void eating their memories of near-death, fear, and pain to bolster their souls against any lingering Chaotic corruption.
I moved on, for hours going through every wounded PDF member I could find. Some could only be stabilized. Their limbs already rotting and subsequently devoured for material to bolster their vitals instead. Others were awake again in moments after being healed, crying tears of joy to be moving again. The local medics were quick on the upkeep, offering water and rations to provide sustenance to replace the body fat and material used to heal the patients. Wheeling the worst cases over to ensure they are saved the worst loss. By the time I had finished going through everyone, it was 10 hours. Tharja reported that she had neutralized a cult of Slannesh hidden in the sewers intent on blowing the walls' foundations. Maw and Ferro had slain/eaten a half dozen or so daemonettes caught trying to bewitch the PDF squad guarding the main gates.
From the considering look in Colonel Price's eyes as we walked back, he had already heard. His next words gave me more than a little respect for him. "You are not an Inquisitor. You never once admitted you were, nor did you start our conversation by waving your rosette in my face. But still willing to fight for the men of the Imperium. Go out of your way to heal my men with priceless archeotech. Not a rouge trader either; you wouldn't have been able or willing to come to a planet in a warp storm if you were. Few other Imperium servants would operate as you do, with a death world insect as a pet or whatever that wolf servitor is. So who are you?" He questioned with nary a quiver in his voice. Impressive, considering if I were a man more ruthless, I would probably have killed him to keep my secrets.
Instead, I smiled amiably and answered with as much honesty as I dared. "I am only Markus. Last name Aurelius if you must have one, though I doubt you or anyone else you may encounter know me by that name. The question is if you know I am willing to risk myself and allies to protect your people, will you stop me from sheer paranoia?" I needled the good Colonel. Admittedly, it wasn't the kindest thing to pressure him with the well-being of Aurelia's citizens, but I was under a time crunch. If I could get to Ulkair, the great unclean one who had summoned this warp storm soon, Aurelia might be saved. But I needed more than the Colonel's trust. I needed his men's faith, as well. Colonel Price didn't respond for a moment, staring me down as if to peer into my soul. I wasn't wearing my helmet, but I might as well have been for the lack of change in my smile.
Soon enough, Colonel Price caved, with the same squad from before and sixteen more gathered to plan for our raid of the nearest hive city. It didn't escape my notice that all sixteen of the PDF gathered were from the PDF elite Blood Crows kill teams. The Blood Crows were certainly armed appropriately for the term elite. Wearing entirely covering carapace armor and wielding a bandolier of Krak grenades with a power pack for their hellguns to present a unified and lethal force. When I had asked why I was to take Epsilon Squad, the response was as heartening as it was depressing. The hive city we would be pilfering was the crossroads on Aurelia. Hive Hadria was the city every initiate of Aurelia went to resupply before venturing into the waste to take the Blood Ravens Trials'. It was also the closest to Haven, and thus the first one scouted out. The report delivered was succinct in its lack of actionable details and terrifying implications.
Mutated warp spawn roamed in howling hunting packs around the hive. Babbling horrors were seen cavorting anywhere they wanted. At the same time, daemonettes stalked the alleys and shadows to drag away their lovers/victims. The howling of bloodletters resounded from the lowest levels of the hive. The upper reaches were observed to be struck with living rot. But there was also the telltale sounds of bolter fire, human screams, and war cries in low and high gothic. Though I may have been able to speak nearly any human tongue with relative and growing ease with my enhancements, I didn't appreciate the differences between the classes. If the nobles had survived in any fashion, they would have enormous stockpiles of rations, ammo, and other priceless commodities waiting in their guarded vaults. Perhaps the hive itself still housed some brave, stout souls.
But to navigate those places would require the mind of someone raised in Hive Hadria. Colonel Price was pointedly looking at one of the boys when he said that, one of a little regal bearing and well-kept clothes underneath his disturbingly well-fitted flak armor now that I was paying attention. Kotei was raised in Hadria. He admitted, his family dealing in the trade of countless goods, and Kotei had been expected to do the same. Though his knowledge was far from perfect, it was vast for specific portions, the backways, and other places well suited for transporting immense trains of valuables. While he would be guiding us, Epsilon Squad would be guarding Kotei, the unspoken creed of brotherhood forged in war. I ignored the heartache at how fierce their eyes were. Too much so by my standards for boys who had yet even to become teenagers fully. Life here wasn't kind enough to allow such brave souls to grow up, and so I silently swore to see them all returned safely if I couldn't shield their innocence.
With haste for tomorrow, the few maps made were studied, entry points decided, and three chimeras pulled from the wall to serve as transports. Fixing them up took time, but having them fully armed was the pinnacle of having it and hopefully not needing it. Tharja disdained the ride the next day, saying she would ride Ferro and keep a watch outside for the trip. When Farque had inquired how she would stay warm for the two-day journey, she had laughed and ignored the question. Though the others were reluctant to trust me initially, I earned a bit of leeway with my first suggestion. Leaving myself outside and on top of the chimera in front to draw enemy attention when the warp spawn hordes showed up. We went with little ceremony, the trip routine but for the destination and occupants. The tundra was as unforgiving for the men as it would be at its' worst, piercing their armor and leaving them all shivering at night.
Aranea alerted us on the second day, just as we began loading up for the journey renewed outside Haven. The flamer carrying chimera was pushed to the front, while those with the heavy weapons lagged behind. Maw saved us from the incoming disaster, leaping into the sky with a bunched up tension like a spring under pressure to tackle something vaguely resembling the Mothman out of the sky before it had managed to dive-bomb us. If it were just that, it would be simple, but then the swarm showed up to try and complete their ambush. All at once to surround us from where they had apparently buried themselves in the dirt and snow. Tharja leaped to the hunt merrily, punching holes into the largest ones with her Osculans. Ferro assisted, covering the rolling hills to the left with excessive death-dealing after Tharja had taken to her own feet.
The chimeras and their occupants were quick on the uptake, leaving the left flank to Ferro and Tharja. At the same time, Maw wrestled the Mothman into submission. Two heavy bolters, twelve las rifles, another dozen hellguns poking out of the firing slits, a pintle-mounted heavy stubber, and storm bolter chewed through the first wave in seconds on the right. Behind us, the first wave of warp spawn ran into Aranea's mines. Her autocannon finished off the survivors who survived the fiery explosion. I brought my Flechette rifle out, placing two rounds into the Mothman to keep it dazed long enough for Maw to take two swift and large bites then rush for the front lines. It was almost too easy after that. The warp spawn possessed an animal cunning to plan an ambush but not the wisdom to change or adapt when that plan failed. They simply kept coming, in groups of a few dozen or so each time to be finished off before the others arrived.
Soon enough, there was only the plain and us left. Thankfully I hadn't had to use my Shade for anything overt. Most people may not have known the specifics of psyker powers, but there was no need to show off unless needed. Getting into Hadria after a brief break was both simple and frustratingly tricky. The main gates weren't worth breaking through, barred and locked by the residents until the mayhem within had swallowed them. However, Kotei knew the Hive Hadria well. He had traveled all across it and throughout the continent, showing us a smaller side gate the size of a monster truck standing on its hood. Opening it was the tricky part since the operating panel was only accessible from inside. So someone would have to scale the gate and open it, presumably without much support.
Of course, I volunteered. Tharja did the same because she would, and there was sure to be a ruckus of daemons once the gates opened. The chimeras set up again, the same formation as earlier, while Ferro and Maw set up just on the opposite sides of the gate, ready to rush in. Scaling the gate was straightforward, Tharja, with her jump jets and web slingers, to land on top with her bow out while I flew up on metallic wings. Then I opened the gate, wincing at the screeching of long-abandoned hinges and machinery forced to liveliness. Tharja giggled, flinging herself onto the city rooftops nearby to launch arrows at the first abominations to show up. At the same time, I pulled my Flechette rifle from my back. Ferro and Maw were the first through the slowly opening gate, barring the largest side-streets. At the same time, the chimeras slowly rolled in to open fire on the incoming foes.
Flechette shots put holes in the heads of the larger daemon hounds, while the flamer from the chimera burnt the lessers who kept coming. Massive fleshy goliaths of distorted biology roared forward, howling like ship's horns as they broke through smaller buildings to advance. They were met with Tharja's arrows, one that sought to sneak around to our right knocked to its feet to be savaged at by Ferro. Stony fleshed mutants wielding dead bodies as weapons or shields came forward by the dozen, perhaps even intentionally shielding the weaker ilk from harm. Krak grenades were thrown, first to stumble them than to feed their rumbling throats with explosives to rain gore. Shrieking daemonic furies of the 'Undivided' Four fell from the sky on leathery wings, greeted with storm bolter and hellgun fire from the chimera's firing slots.
In only two minutes of battle killing the mutants and daemons, the streets nearby and surroundings were left carpeted by gore. The smell of burnt flesh lingered thickly, while a famished Maw soon silenced the moans of agony from the few survivors. The bug always seemed hungry, but no one seemed to be complaining, happy that I apparently had a bug capable of bringing down a mutant goliath the size of a shrimpy hive Tyrant. The way was soon cleared with the liberal application of the dozer blade mounted to the front of the flamer equipped chimera. Tharja was left to stalk the rooftops above, playing overwatch with the occasional shot from her bow to silence those mutants who would alert the rest to our location. Or to simply kill those she could see close by.
Maw and Ferro guarded the sides, screams echoing out from their victims to both keep us from an ambush and obscure our exact location. My Flechette rifle never left my hands, nor did I abandon the chimeras as we began to venture into Hadria's depths. With little detours throughout the place necessary, we soon delved deeper instead of upward where the supposed supplies would be. The screams echoed louder from Ferro's and Maw's victims as I sat for a moment to talk with Kotei in the lead chimera. I wasn't comfortable having Epsilon Squad in the lead chimera. Still, I had settled my nerves by shooting anything that would threaten them. In the young noble's own words, the barricades and rubble blocking all the streets leading directly upward to Hadria's upper reaches were encouraging when I had asked how he had gone into quite a spiel.
"Though my family was primarily traders and networkers between suppliers, there were a great many contingencies prepared for an attack on Aurelia. As the homeworld of a venerated chapter of Space Marines, my family found it prudent to formulate how we might defend Hadria and our assets from those seeking to strike directly against the Blood Ravens. Though not exactly as I remember them precisely, the blockades are similar to what I was taught to turn Hadria into a great bastion of defense-in-depth as my father called it." The young noble scion said, a melancholy look of haunting memories no boy so young should have. I spoke to break him from his grief as we turned to venture into the bottom levels of the hive.
"If this is true, and someone amongst your family lives to enact this cunning plan, then how will we get to them in the upper spires? They seem to be almost too successful." I noted, blowing a flechette into a bloodletter in the distance about to start screaming. It survived the round to the skull, staggered long enough though for Tharja to finish it off. I heard a whistle from inside the chimera at the shot, Pate, if my guess was right. Kotei blinked in genuine amazement at my nonchalance but was sufficiently distracted. "If the plan my family created to protect our employees, warehouses in the upper reaches of Hadria, and the hive itself were followed in full, then the only way to the spires will be through the maglev elevators at the bottom and center of Hadria. They were meant to simplify our logistics. But with mercenaries hired to our payroll, our guards, and hidden fortifications modeled off the Imperial Guard's designs, we planned to turn the maglev station into a multi-story bunker."
Kotei seemed to be quite proud of his family's cunning, a well-founded thing if their plan had gone so well. The others, once the news of a possible sanctuary was explained to them, were equally enthusiastic. The only reason that the PDF of Haven hadn't taken the chance to enter the hives enforce before was how deadly they were. Even Hadria, a smaller give amongst their standards, was a megacity the size of New York stacked up like a Jenga puzzle. Invading such a place would mean leaving Haven criminally understaffed. Raiding it with those skilled enough to operate in the hive successfully would better defend Haven. But now there was hope that we would succeed and find the supplies that Haven needed and maybe even other survivors. That didn't mean it would be easy, though.
The screams of daemons and mutants being devoured escalated in volume and regularity, signaling that Maw and Ferro were struggling to keep our enemies at bay. Tharja radioed in that she saw more bloodletters in more massive numbers, firing two or even three quarrels at a time to quiet their hunting parties. I helped as I was able, firing flechettes to wound them in the distance; daemonettes dropped to the ground as they peaked maliciously from the alleyways. I didn't realize at first, but as we got deeper in, las rifles were almost silent weapons. The hellguns were equally quiet, hissing with the passage of heated air and the guns themselves radiating excess heat. Las rifle beams sizzled flesh real or not from nearly any distance with barely much sound, while hellgun bolts expanded the flesh of targets until they popped like zits. Only the quiet droning of the power packs exchanging energy and the air's sizzling indicated the trigger pulls.
That was probably why, when we saw the maglev station, the prominent noises to be heard were the horde of mutants and daemons dying to try and advance. Krak grenades fell like hail to soften the next wave, hellgun las bolts blew open the flesh of the mutants legs, while a pair of las cannons in the far recesses of the bunker cored through the largest and those behind them with the sound of an industrial-sized microwave.
The men and women operating the fortress were professionals, pulling the wounded away immediately, sandbag, and steel prefab walls around the fortress fully staffed to keep the hostile fire away from their fall back point. No projectile weapons were fired to conserve their ammo. The fort itself was a three-story base, a block of ferrocrete as they called it, and few windows. The front-loading dock was barred and surrounded by the barricades, creating a well-executed kill zone. Gun barrels poked out of every window, a dozen hellguns, and two multi-lasers. At the same time, the fort's top was a massive maglev elevator structure into the hive with support struts every few stories up.
We supported the defenders as we road down, firing into the incoming wave from above and their flanks as we advanced. The chimeras were left alone by the defenders, parking themselves in front of the loading dock doors to concentrate fire better. The mutants were dead within less than five minutes, and the daemons were banished or granted True Death. A man stepped forward after the silence settled, leaning over the barricade overlooking the loading-dock doors to examine us.
His uniform was a rare thing, fully armored and well-articulated at the joints with glowing lenses at the helmet suggesting electronic senses. A uniform of the Imperial Guard elite, a tempestus scion, well fit to tell he was trained at a schola-progenum and the training to back it up. A pair of las pistols rested at his hips while holding a hellgun at the ready, not quite pointed at our group. The warning was refreshingly straightforward. Make a wrong move, and the defenders would be raining Krak grenades and lasers on us. "Not that we aren't grateful for the help, but you all just alerted every bugger for kilometers to our position. So thanks for that. More importantly, why shouldn't we leave you all outside as bait for the next wave?" The leader said, his voice rumbling out from his helm's speakers.
I simply stepped to the side of the lead chimeras hatch, letting Kotei step out. He'd started bashing at the hatch to tell me to get off as soon as the man spoke, sending the whole garrison silent. His voice trembled, confidence cracked with emotions running thick in his tone. "Mister Cross, is that you up there?" The hope in his words was undeniable, wetness in his pale blue eyes and trembling wiry frame. A beat of silence before Cross started barking commands to open the dock doors, hopping down to greet us on the other side. His helmet was off relatively quick, revealing a rugged dark-skinned man with scars around his temples as if his helm had been crushed while he'd been wearing it. His eyes were alert brown orbs intently studying Kotei up close. A smile breaks out after a moment. The chimeras park while Kotei runs up to the man.
"It's great to see you, little Kotei. Have you been fighting? I can smell the struggle on you. Your mother will be pleased to see you." Cross grumbles good-naturedly. He hadn't put his hellgun away; I'd noticed, or stop staring so intently at Kotei. I imagined if the lad did something even to hint Kotei wasn't really who he said he was, he'd be killed. A paranoid man, mister Cross was. "Yes, I have been fighting! It's great to see you, mister Cross. We weren't sure anyone was okay in Hadria. I've been within Haven so far. How is my mother? You said she was doing well?" The conversation is both heartwarming yet routine. Assurances are made. Questions are subtly asked of Kotei that he answers without even noticing, and eventually, Cross relaxes. But then, of course, the troubles begin.
"Though I'd be willing to let you use the maglev, you have to know I wasn't lying about the noise. It'll take a while, but even if you go up now, the maglev stops at every floor for four central maglev station stops. I can't let you take any of my men up. I need them down here to keep the perimeter. But if I let you up, there will be hell to pay, waves of these freaks to rush the maglev stations higher up once they smell or hear you. Can't take the chimeras either. If you're trying to bring supplies to Haven, better to load them for the way down and then into the chimeras. I won't make commands of you, little Kotei, or your friends. But I would recommend you consider bringing everyone from Haven over here. The trip will be dangerous, but we've got space." The hint from Cross is given while he types something on the console of the maglev.
It detaches, ascending by a quarter-inch while Cross turns around to instruct us on how to activate it. "The platform will have to restart every time for each substation level. Contingencies to make sure the bottom floors don't send a bomb into the upper spires. The consoles are already prepped from our resupplies from the upper levels. The substations are even reinforced and barricaded to keep out scavengers and the odd heretic survivor. But this will be the first time anyone rides the maglev since we finished evacuating. There will be trouble, to say the least." Soon enough, the entirety of our group is loaded up on the maglev, with sandbags and metal barriers for firing positions set up on the edge of the maglev platform.
It was the size of an Olympic pool, enough to even hold Ferro and Maw if they didn't stretch out. The Blood Crows spread out without orders covering every angle as Sigma squad filled in the gaps, while Epsilon guarded the center ring of defenses. The front barricades were moved, leaving an open space for Maw and Ferro to rush through and more barriers to cover behind for the Blood Crows. Aranea got almost as many stares as I ordered her to come over and give me her remaining compliment of mines, five dozen coincidentally enough. I handed them out with two to each man and three for Sigma squad and the best-throwing arms among the Blood Crows, the men taking them reverentially as Aranea set up to guard the left side. The pintle-mounted storm bolter and heavy stubber were set up as well with the ammo behind the barricades.
Tharja reveled in the attention, strutting over like a power armor model on the runway to the right flank. Flourishing her bow and arrow as she crouched behind her cover, simultaneously showing off even as she eased the tension by giving the men something else to focus on. Cross noticed chuckling in his helmet as he activated the maglev. It ascended, his words echoing in the spider-web of supports and magnetic pulleys. "I know that look in your eyes, Kotei. Your father may not be with us, but he is with the God-Emperor now. Try not to let the resentment fester or the self-loathing. I know what it can do you personally." Cross offered such condolences, as the whine of the ascending maglev took us upward.
Cradled safely in the maglev, the tension ratcheted up as Hadria was revealed in all its desecrated glory. Homes and hovels housed monstrosities beyond even Lovecraft's best descriptions. Screams, roars, and chants in daemonic tongues echoed from all around us. The scent of blood, vomit, sickly sweet spices, and other foul things intermingled to rise like a mist of the vilest fragrance. The panic would set in soon, I knew, the pressure too much and ruining everyone's focus.
They needed a distraction, direction as well. No one spoke; Sigma squad too insular and Epsilon too inexperienced. My mouth was moving before I realized I was the one talking. "When I give the command to pull. Activate the mines and throw them at the most massive targets you can see. To activate them, twist the edges, press the center to arm them and then pray before throwing them. Only throw one mine apiece; conserve them unless you feel your initiative will grant us a critical advantage." My voice echoed around us, bleeding the pressure as the Blood Crows relaxed with orders to follow and a plan to trust laid out. Sigma squad began to joke, that indeed they'd have the best throws of anyone. I smiled, taking the reprieve before we reached the first substation to give a few more commands.
"When I call for heavies, be ready to shift fire to the flanks so Maw and Ferro may advance to close quarters in the center." Maw chittered in delight at the opportunity to wreak havoc while Ferro growled at the challenge to her superiority. Everyone fell silent, Farris speaking up a question in trepidation. "What did they just say to each other?" A question to be silently echoed by everyone, if the looks in their eyes were any clue. It wouldn't hurt to assuage everyone's fears before the battle and solidify some camaraderie. "Maw said that he was more than able to devour the most formidable enemies." I insinuated, not exactly lying. "Ferro countered that it would be she who hunted the most powerful foes." Tharja seamlessly finished, eyeing me coyly from her position.
I returned her implicit challenge. "I wager the next archeotech piece Maw will have more spectacular kills." I goaded her over my helmet speakers, the others gawking in amazement to hear me bet such a thing. Tharja accepted the wager, just as we pulled in to settle on the substation dock. Silence for a time, broken by scant breathing and the creak of long quiet machinery as I hurry over to the nearby console. My worm port tentacle flies out to interface with the console, less than ten steps off the maglev. By the time I had finished initiating the maglev's ascension, the front-loading dock door had been rung like a garage-sized drum.
Guns are readied, pointing at the barricaded doorway while Maw and Ferro begin growling or hissing at the door in anticipation. The city's shadows that filter through the blackout curtains far above shift and contort wildly as several somethings prepare to breach. I saw more than a few of the men lay one of their mines onto the ground next to their feet, ready to throw. The front is knocked down, a goliath of distended muscles with Khorne's name on his lips before Tharja greets him with an arrow of shaped plasma and Void to the skull. The beast fell like a disgusting fleshy tree, ponderous until it thudded into the ground. Mayhem ensued as dozens of daemonic hounds leaped over the body, and whatever space not filled was hijacked by the stony fleshed mutants from earlier. The only logical response was shouted from my throat without conscious thought. "PULL!" The others are more than ready; the warcry of humanity for generations roared in defiance as a small rain of explosive death fell amidst the enemy ranks. "FOR THE EMPEROR!" They cry out with righteous fury. "COVER!" An order from me that I once again do not remember opening my mouth to say. The men still follow the order, ducking down as a small series of beeps signal the mines detecting movement. As the mutants instinctually freeze to look for the threat before the explosions go off, a beat of confusion consumes their feeble minds.
To Tharja and me, it was no more severe than a wave of weak pressure, bright light, and sound filtered out by the power armor. To the men, it was a hammer of fury and human wrath. We all rise; Tharja and I first to witness the devastation. The floor has several layers of metal turned into slag or ash; the blood of mutants and dead bodies are splattered and crusted on the ceiling and walls while the horde to come is gone. Only the bodies blocking the door hint at the miraculous throw that sent a mine outside just as the next wave would have assembled to rush the door. "Who managed to throw their mine out? I'm building you a set of nanite archeotech enhancements." I asked in bemusement. I wasn't even that unduly surprised that it was Pate who shakily raised his hands with a rictus grin. An adrenaline junkie in the making then, how wonderful. I made a note to Newton to build Hydra nanite swarms for all Epsilon squad.
The next substation is a far more uncomplicated endeavor. I quickly dash to the console, interfacing with it before ordering everyone to prepare to throw as I run back. I land behind the first line just as the door is breached, the innocent beeping of the mines following after. The first two exploded as soon as a pair of daemonic furies sliced open the door with razor-sharp wings and step forward. The daemonic hounds behind them die as they try to squeeze through the bottleneck of abused metal and sustained crossfire. The others went off in quick succession as a troupe of goliaths stomped literally through their 'comrades' to receive the reward of fire, death, and disappointment. We ascended soon after, still raining fire onto our assailants as the more determined furies chased after us.
It was the only reason I saw the ambush coming. A flicker of sensuous motion from above as I punched a hole through a fury's wing was my only warning. "ABOVE!" I screamed as I threw my Flechette rifle into a falling daemonette, diverting its lobster claw hand thing away from a Blood Crow's neck by less than a few centimeters. My sword and Tyr were drawn without thought, blowing the alluring abominations shoulder open as my blade bisected it at the waist. Tharja began firing into the air above, as the ceiling of the substation above was rent loose by more daemons eager to drop down amongst us. Daemonettes, bloodletters, Tzeentchian horrors, and plaguebearers could all be seen. All of them keen to stop me, kill me so that they may go back to torturing one another without worries. A minuscule portion of me is quite touched to know that I so threaten chaos that their lesser servants already begin to collaborate as never before to be rid of me.
The majority of my mind is unspeakably infuriated, to the point I cannot remember exactly what I did. I distinctly remember activating the hard light generator in my suit, then calling upon my Shade. I remember the screams of dark delight as a daemonette cut a man's hand off as it landed to lick the blood. My fury skyrocketed, as a plaguebearer lands with too much weight, Evelyn and Wright tackling it away from a stumbling Darius. A Blood Crow is thrown from its would-be murderer, Ferror tossing him back with her tail from a bloodletter to devour it and take the blow instead. Maw ascends the maglev, offering his own carapaced flesh as he rises to eat the daemons before they can bury us in bodies and bleeding as a prize. Jones, a boy I would see in school in another life, screamed the cry of a terrified boy about to die and so very scared.
Newton put on a song as I screamed all the hate I held at that moment, bodies of hardened light blossoming all around filled with the Void. Seven Nation Army, the Glitch Mob remix played as the bodies stopped falling, the false selves that held my shape and a sliver of my essence danced with blade and gun to cut down daemons with silent spite mid-air. The Shades were of me, a thousand eyes and hands to do my work as the music finished its build-up. The maglev stopped at the last substation as the drums started. 'I'm gonna fight em' off, a seven nation army couldn't hold me back' sung the tunes of a man facing hell. I stood before much the same. The substation was still standing in name alone, the barricades were long gone, and the walls were torn out to leave only the suggestion they had ever been there at all.
Daemons of every flavor surrounded us of the undivided four—a riot of color, hate, insanity, violence, and Chaos in all its dark majesty. My allies were encircled, disheveled, and disorganized. My false self Shades were able to kill the lessers with some effort to sustain themselves, but the sheer number around us could've invaded a planet and won with ease. I still could've found victory if I were smart enough. I would need to be fast to get everyone firing immediately in all directions for cover and bombard them all while I activated the maglev. Tharja, Maw, and Ferro were already aware of the situation. The Void pulsing through us all just under the skin of the world as if defying the presence of Chaos' servants. But then he stepped forward, and any cunning plans I might've made turned to ash.
He was exalted among bloodletters like no other. Even those not of Khorne's dominion backed away from his march lest he claims their skull for the Blood God. His horns are rams', curled into themselves a foot above his head with heads from long-dead human champions in their grip or about his scalp like weapons. His blade is a raging thing of black brass and fire that causes the very air to scream as he walks. A cloak flows behind him, with the blood, sinew, and skulls of countless heroes woven into it. His armor is even less practical than Gorehorn's yet also revealing. Gorehorn needed armor because he was that weak. Skulltaker, a champion of Khorne who could cut down several captains of the Grey Knights, Astartes of a secret chapter of psyker transhumans purposefully made to kill those like him, doesn't care about armor. His tongue, a serpentine thing of wicked length. The daemon himself is easily as tall as nine feet, rippling with scarlet muscle, and at that moment, as he strides forward, I know he is capable of such a feat.
Khul'tyran, the juggernaut of Khorne he rides, is just as menacing in its disturbingly calm walk forward. As if the calm that envelopes them will only make their bloodthirsty rage worse later. It is the size of a damn monster truck, its brass flesh so heated the air boils in its mere presence. The others behind me barely breathe as Skulltaker stops 64 steps away, the crowd of other daemons cowed into silence. When he speaks, the air is shimmering in front of his mouth from the heat. The scent of blood is overpowering. "Khorne will have your skull Shadow, and I will bring it to him soaked in your blood, Huntress." He states with finality as if the battle to come has already been decided. It isn't a cocky statement, one made in arrogant overconfidence, but in the cold, rigid belief of a zealot who knows victory is assured.
Tharja doesn't speak. Her actions were enough as she nocks an arrow and steps forward to stand with me. Maw chitters like a living chainblade, slithering down from the maglev to stand behind me at the threat, while Ferro does the same in menacing silence like her mistress. I don't look at the men and women behind me as I speak, eyes firmly fixed on the infamous foe before me who could put even bloodthirsters to shame. "Sigma squad, you are the reactionary force. Guard Epsilon with all you have. Blood Crows, hold the maglev at all costs. Do Not Stop Moving." I command with all the authority I can muster in those words as I spy Skulltaker's grip on his man-sized sword tighten. A thought to Aranea is sent, the little bot landing at my feet as I rush the next part.
There is nothing gentle about what I do to Aranea, far too rushed to let the souls I have gathered be fed back into her slowly. Instead, power and sentience crash into her, nearly splitting her in twain. The King of Void intervenes, reaching out with haste to remake her as I knew/desire/need her to be. She had to be many things, too much quite possibly at once to survive the conflict, but it could be done. Memories of my pet dog were taken, my ideals of companionship examined, the souls of Gorehorn and every daemon and mutant I'd slain on Aurelia stripped and shaped to better suit my needs.
Compounded, they were all placed into the once empty shell that was Aranea, her body, and essence splitting into two halves. One rested within the Void to better mold material reality while cleansing the Chaos from their ilk, while the physical remainder was slimmed down and made more refined. Screams echoed out, my eyes able to witness the attoseconds tick ever so slowly by. Aranea's new shadow twitched over to the maglev console, borrowing my knowledge to activate it. Tharja drew on her own power, both a shard of Void come alive and the yet unborn Huntress to Bring The Embrace Of The Abyss. Maw lunged forward, tackling the juggernaut of destruction incarnate with Shade, pincers, and material weight to grapple for dominance. Ferro leaped into the chest of a daemon brute. Tearing its head from its shoulders with her jaws before jumping to the air with too much ease.
Skulltaker eyed me, waiting with his blade ready. I stepped forward to leave Aranea to grow accustomed to her new shape. Hardened light armor layered over me, then Void threaded through that to become the Shadow of The End. Skulltaker was grinning, babbling inanely about the glory it would earn to present my skull to Khorne. Tharja cackled as she became less than a flicker of motion, carving death into the daemon's ranks all around the maglev with what was once Tyranid daggers. Another Huntress of her essence and shape flew through the shadows above, flitting to and fro with no regard for physics as she did the same in general. My Tyr hummed in hand, eager as it could be for the battle, while the Prifma Finis howled like the winds that drew in all things to the Void's grasp.
The music stopped. Newton interconnected to me enough to know I wanted something else. The John Wick Medley played. It was a musical piece by Le Castle Vania and quite fitting as well. "Holy shit," Vance whispered in awestruck terror. I grinned at Sulltaker, striding forward. It wasn't a friendly smile, and he returned something just as sinister. The beat dropped harder than a battle moon. An army of hardened light constructs was born, the Void threaded through them to become golems dueling their counterparts. I never did run out of challenges in the Warhammer 40k universe.