A/N: Thanks to my pal SharkGlue for helping with this chapter. :)
Book Two: Corruption's End
Chapter 39: Gold
"Like the smell of a rose on a summer's day/I will be there to take all your fears away/with a touch of my hand I will turn your life to gold." - [REDACTED]
Alan Jorvis patted the front pocket of his fatigues. To his disappointment, he found but a single cigar remaining.
He wasn't as young as he used to be. No one pushes seventy-two standard without incurring constant aches and pains. Tapping his eye to clear the static, he sighed. He was tired. It had been twelve hours after setting forth, a long day, a day full of bloodshed and a constant storm of noise. Rarely had he ever covered so much ground in such little time. Watching the titan in action... well… there were still some blessings left to him in his age. Fucking beautiful is what it was, he thought. Now, the great war-beast rested two klicks away, its hull hunched, crawling with support crews and red-robed ants.
It'd taken most of the day, but they reached their destination, just outside the Forge. Before them stood a castle, a munitions factory crawling with shit-eating cultists. Emperor-damned worms. If it weren't for them, the Inquisitor's business on Uriel would be trivial, but now she had to bow and scrape to the whims of the Mechanicus. How they screeched when she wanted to push onto the foundry. Babbling about their weird Omnissiah and all the technology within. Golden Throne of Terra, they are an eerie lot.
Praise technology all you want, Jorvis decided as he stepped off the Chimera, there's nothing that can replace the heart of a pure soldier. Stretching, his joints popped and snapped. Under his flak armor, they were inaudible. Good. His squad shouldn't have to hear their leader showing signs of age like that. Bad for morale.
He'd been a Sergeant for fifty years now, the better half of his life. He grinned as he looked out over Gamma. These people reminded him why he'd turned down the promotion every time it came knocking around. They were the epitome of what it meant to be human. Strong, tightly-knit, viciously effective.
"Hey Sarge." And for the most part - obedient.
"Trooper Xiao Long," he said, acknowledging her with a curt nod. This woman… by the Emperor's rotten balls, she's a mystery. If she was born on Woadia, he would eat his beret… and his chainsword to boot. Never before had he seen a soldier like her. She was blessed, even if her arrogance and flippant attitude said otherwise. However, tonight she looked haggard and worn, like when she slipped out of the barracks thinking no one would see her.
"What do you need, Trooper?" He asked. She'd taken double watch last night, and it showed. Spending the day flushing out the arch-foe did her no favors.
"Mind if I take first watch?" His eye whirred as it appraised her. Matted locks of gold slipped out from underneath her helmet, shocks of color against the gunmetal ocean that was Uriel. Behind her, the Forge swallowed the world's misted sun. He chuffed, a half-laugh.
"Telling jokes on duty is strictly prohibited, Trooper," he said. "Get some Emperor-damned rest. I know you're worried about Piss-Pants and the rest of the dick-suck brigade, but frankly I don't give a shit." She was his best. Best in the whole damned regiment. The way she worked that sword of hers… well, it wasn't graceful, but it was damned murderous. "You see that foundry over there," he said, pointing at tomorrow's objective. It was almost thirty stories high, and its front was littered with scaffolding and gaping doors, kill-zones hungry for blood. "That place is gonna be a fucking nightmare. I want you at a hundred percent."
"Sarge," she debated, getting that look in her eyes. The look that sent his wrinkled skin crawling. It was the gaze of someone who follows orders not out of duty or loyalty, but for convenience's sake.
"Whatever you're about to say, I don't wanna hear it. I'm taking first watch. Get some fucking sleep, Trooper." Grumbling, she marched away, slinging her lasgun over her shoulder. At least she obeyed, no matter how reluctantly.
Night fell upon Uriel as the shadows from the cloud-piercing city blackened. Around him, the 50th Rolland Mechanized formed a protective line of plasteel, around which a multitude of soldiers congregated.
He gave out the night's orders before climbing atop a Chimera, ready to start the first watch. His troopers needed rest. Jorvis was an old man, but he wasn't lazy. The Woadians were strong, adaptable soldiers, but they hadn't seen a twentieth of the battlefields he'd witnessed.
Lighting his remaining cigar, he stared off towards the factory. Tomorrow might spell the end for all of them. Fighting inside such a massive space could be a massacre. We've been lucky so far… inordinately so. He had faith in the Emperor, and he had faith in his Regiment. These ass-backwards agri-world hill-jakes got downright mean when they wanted to be. Perhaps they'd scrape by again. Hell, they had the Sisters with them, and the Inquisitor as well. Angelic killers, them. Standing in their presence was like having the Emperor's hand on your shoulder.
He smoked in silence, watching the camp settle down. By the time his cigar was half ash, calm engulfed the Imperial forces. Knocking it against the multi-las, he watched the grey scatter to the faint wind. Silence reigned.
When it was gone, the darkness was total. He scanned the horizon once more, bionic eye in night-vision mode. Jorvis huffed. Even when rendered in lime-green, Uriel was an ugly fucking planet.
With the slick whisper of perverse metal, a knife was at his throat. His hand reached shot towards his bolt pistol, but a pale hand had wrapped itself around his mouth, an unflinching foot pinning his wrist.
"Ah ah ah, none of that now," a voice hissed into his ear. It was no human voice, Jorvis knew by the way it slithered into his ear, wrapped itself around his mind like a vice. It belonged to a being far older than himself, dripping with the evil of xenos treachery.
He struggled more, desperate to free himself.
"Shhhh, shhhh, little mon'keigh," the voice said again. The knife creeped into his vision, a sliver of black edged in the foulest of poisons. Notched and twisted into deformity, it gleamed with desire for his blood. "Any noise, and it'll taste your flesh. Just a nick, mind you. I will relish the agony."
Jorvis was powerless, and hate flowed through every nerve and artery. Eldar! The slippery, pointy-eared fuck-mothering degenerates! His eyes flicked over the camp. No one moved, and all were ignorant to his plight.
"That's right, little one. I am not incapable of mercy. I require only one thing from you. Tell me, and you will live to see the dawn." Jorvis almost choked on the invective that scoured his throat, desperate to be free from this monster's fingers. When the xenos spoke again, menace dripped from every syllable. "This Lady Inquisitor… where is she? How many guards attend her person? Are these questions you can answer?" His mind raced, desperate for an advantage, a few more seconds, anything. He nodded against the foul-smelling palm.
"How droll, mon'keigh. This pleases Dazatyhr. Now listen… I shall remove my hand but for a moment… when I do so, you will whisper to me what I wish to know." Looking out over the camp, Jorvis' bionic eye saw shifting forms of black amidst the sea of green. How any being could step so silently, move so languidly… it birthed a broiling nausea within him. They stole themselves upon the camp, creeping closer and closer to his squad. One crouched near Trooper Xiao Long, reaching out for her.
"Do you understand, mon'keigh?" He nodded once more. "Good." Emperor be with you, Gamma. Emperor be with you, Yang Xiao Long, whoever you are. The fingers that clamped themselves over his mouth parted, revealing a wide, toothy smile.
"XEEENNOOOSSSS!" The cry pierced the night before dying away in a rush of blood and a gurgled death-scream. It rocked Yang from her brief rest, eyelids flung open from a troubled, bloody dream. In a heartbeat, her aura was pumping through every inch of her being, hyper-awareness howling 'danger'.
Before her, a black gauntlet reached for her throat, its fingers coated in spines. Behind the gauntlet crouched… something, its form long and lanky, wholly unnatural. Red lenses from its pointed helm appraised her, thirsting for her.
Yang snarled, and time slowed as adrenaline surged through her. Wrapping her fingers around the creature's wrist, she yanked him forward, swinging her other fist into his cuirass. Ember Celica roared as it broke the onyx metal with a shrieking crunch, and she felt bone shatter beneath her knuckles.
His body snapped from the force, an arm ripped away from its host. Yang screamed, anger and worry coursing through her. Where's Ros? What's going on? A cry went up to the smog-shrouded stars, the keening wail of a predator's bloodlust. The creatures fell upon them in numbers, a mass of lithe forms in pointed armor. She ripped her sword free from its scabbard, ready to defend her friends.
"Yang!" Ros screamed, diving for her lasgun. Hearing her friend, she danced backwards, scanning the advancing forms for challengers.
"Ros, you okay?"
"I'm fine, what the fuck is-" she didn't have chance to finish, as one of the things launched itself forwards, half of her supple body exposed to the elements. Ros blasted her with a burst of lasbolts, knocking her aside before Yang split her in two.
"Ambush!" Caolin managed, joining them. "Xenos!" He's right, Yang thought as she scooped up her lasgun. These are the 'eldar' Vadiik told me about. The armor matches her descriptions perfectly!
She let loose a barrage of fire, hoping to connect with a few of her shots. Chaos reigned in the camp, shrieks and shrill yells filling her ears from every angle. "Get behind me!" She shouted at her friends, gesturing behind a Chimera. If what she told me is true, they're no match for these animals. And if what Vadiik told her about their prisoners was true… she shook her head. They die here.
"Where the hell is Jorvis?" Asgeg cried, diving down under a hail of invisible rounds. They split the air with winnowing streaks, embedding themselves in Woadians and Rollanders alike. Each one fell screaming, twitching and writhing in agony. One ricocheted off Yang's aura, the too-familiar lick of her semblance flaring up, only to be bitten down.
"I don't know!" Theni replied, firing into the dark. "Yang?" She knew who rang out the alarm, and how it ended. Their sergeant was no more.
"No idea," Yang lied. "Fuck!" These eldar were lightning quick, a far cry from cultists, and even more nimble than the corrupted astartes. Getting a bead on them was damn near impossible. They poured over the front line of Chimeras, howling with glee. They were even faster than most Hunters.
"Get some fucking suppressive fire down!" Ros screamed, slicing her hand at the tide of eldar. Gamma obeyed, most of them now alert and equipped. This is bad! We're out in the open, and they're fucking everywhere! The platoon coalesced into a semi-circle around a Chimera, with Yang and Ros at its center.
"Theni!" Ros bellowed, "Get up on that bolter! NOW, dammit!" He leapt at her order, scrambling in his haste to crawl atop the APC.
"Yeah, fuck you, xenos!" Asgeg cried against her lasgun. "Watch the flanks! Watch our flanks!" She continued, pivoting. Mael grunted with panic, trying to loose shots from his lasgun while dropping a rocket down the barrel of his launcher.
Madness. This is fucking madness.
The eldar tore through their comrades like tissue paper, dancing through the guardsman with silken grace. Soon, the lines were indistinguishable, a sprawling pit of wails and the sounds of ripping flesh.
"Ros?" Caolin asked, eyes wide and questioning. If they kept firing, they couldn't avoid hitting the rest of First Company.
"Keep firing," she gasped, her lips twisted into a mask of hate, eyes watery and shining. "Just… pray for them." Yang roared in frustration as Gamma resumed their fire, scything down friend and foe alike in the chaos. Theni let loose with the pintle-minted bolter, the weapon's distinctive clattering sending up chunks of gore from the entanglement.
"Emperor preserve us," Ros blubbered, ripping a smoking battery from her lasgun. She loaded a fresh one without missing a beat before resuming her barrage.
"Fuck!" Yang bellowed, trying to place her shots. She wanted to leap into the fray where she could let loose with Ember Celica. It looked like a good fight, but she didn't dare let her eyes off her friends, not in this chaos.
"Incoming, on the right!" Asgeg hollered, smoke pouring from her lasgun as it belched a river of red death. "Eyes on, eyes on!" A pocket of eldar surged towards Gamma, all women. They wore the same garb, with half of their bodies wrapped in wicked armor, the other half naught but pale, naked flesh.
They stormed forward, each of them wailing in ecstasy. It boiled Yang's blood and split her ears. On their wrists they wore gnarled gauntlets, each one protruding bladed crystal that glowed a sickly yellow. They danced and weaved around Gamma's fire, shadows given liquid motion. Only a few fell, charred holes in their pale flesh belching smoke. Mael loosed a rocket at them, catching the closest one in a plume of shrapnel and purple ichor.
"Teach you to fight with your tits out!" Ros hollered. Yang's hand wound tight around her power sword. If no one stopped them, it'd be a massacre.
"Hold the line!" She said, leaping forward beyond Gamma's feeble defensive line.
"Yang!" Ros bellowed, reaching out for her friend. It was too late. Yang's feet hammered against metal, each stride catapulting her towards the eldar.
"Fucking die, you monsters!" She cried, the blue of her sword flashing bright as the sun. She swung into the enemy with all her might, only to find her blade buried in the earth. The woman she'd tried to hit already outflanked her, monomolecular crystal arcing for her back. Yang ducked under the blow, throwing a wild slash at the eldar. She dodged the blow just as easily, a forked tongue rasping over her violet-black lips.
The others swarmed her, desperate to bring her down. One, two, three hits scored off her aura, yellow slashes that her semblance drank in greedily. Each strike fueled her anger, poured octane into her muscles.
She lashed out with her sword, shearing the face of her opponent. One snarled in anger, rolling off her back and needling her with strikes. Ember Celica swung around, hitting nothing but fogged air. With a wordless roar, she struck again, her opponent dancing just out of range. They're just like Neo, Yang thought, stepping away from a strike meant to pierce her heart. The gauntlet soared past, scoring a harmless gouge across the breast of her flak armor. Slippery fuckers! A quick glance back at Gamma told her they were holding… for now.
The second's distraction brought a blade into her gut. Ignoring it, Yang lunged forwards, splitting the woman's skull with her forehead. One slammed into her flank, throwing her off her feet and sending the pair flying into a crater. She lost her sword and the battle disappeared, swallowed by walls of twisted metal.
Yang locked eyes with her opponent. The eldar's gaze was half-lidded, her lips pulled away from a brace of brilliant white teeth. It turned her stomach.
"I'll fucking kill you!" Yang hollered, spraying the creature with flecks of spittle. She buried Ember Celica into her gut, a blast of pellets scoring against her armor. They disengaged, rolling away from each other before crouching into fighting stances.
"Please!" She responded, her voice shrill and eager. "You're unlike any mon'keigh I've ever seen! I will treasure your death!"
"Try me, bitch!" Yang said, her feet bouncing up and down. Despite everything, she found a grin splitting her face. Finally, a good fight! It's been too long! The eldar dashed forward, a hurricane of blades. Yang danced back, her boots tapping a light step against the broken earth. Ember Celica met the crystal, sparks ringing out as the weapons collided.
Their dance was an elegant one, a flurry of steps and strikes, Yang unleashed a barrage of punches, each one sailing past their target or carefully redirected by the eldar's fluid, impossible speed.
"RRRRRRAAAAHH!" She screamed as another punch was batted aside. The gauntlet punched into her stomach, pushing her back.
"Most mon'keigh can't withstand the loving touch of my weapon," The woman cooed, a split tongue spilling out from her lips to caress the flat of her blades. "You would most certainly win us glory in our arena. Perhaps killing you can wait." Yang said nothing, her chest heaving with sharp breaths. If she let her aura free, she could pummel her to death. But it might take a while, and her friends couldn't last long against the aliens' sickening grace. Playing this creature's games would get her nowhere. Reach out for the warp, someone said.
"I'll take that as a compliment, xenos," Yang countered, spitting the word out. Dust, that felt good. "But you're not leaving this ditch alive." The alien giggled at her. Yang's nostrils flared, her brow splitting into a rictus of fury. Yes! Use your power, your radiant soul! Reach out...
"Ooh, feisty," the alien said.
Aura pumped into her veins, and she felt her hair leap from her shoulders. Yang felt a shiver of pleasure coursing through her as a flash of uneasiness flickered in the xeno's eyes. This twisted cunt didn't deserve Ember Celica. With a steep, sharp breath, she set aside the voice that demanded she rip the woman limb from limb. Instead, she recalled Weiss' lessons. Yes!
"A psyker too," the xenos tried, voice wavering, "and a durable one at that."
"You're not in control anymore, no matter what you think," Yang replied simply.
"I am Alysandrex, Succubus of the Blade Denied! I won't be talked down to by a mon'keigh!" The xenos shouted.
Looking within herself, Yang cast the net of her soul, breaking through the mental barriers and calling upon the power of the warp. Voices assailed her by the hundreds, each one screaming a thousand truths and as many lies, each battering at the walls of her aura, slipping temptations and promises and powers and greeds and lusts into her soul. Her shoulder burned like someone had pressed a brand against it.
Yang screamed in pain before harnessing the agony of it all, pushing it into her being and willing the endless wellspring of madness into her voice, bellowing out her grief and rage and hope at the woman before her.
Warp-fire burst from her lips, dousing the xeno in a torrent of roaring orange-gold flames. The xenos screamed, slapping at the unquenchable inferno that ate away her flesh and armor. Her pale skin blackened and sloughed as she writed in torment, the fat of her breasts and stomach devoured by the otherworldly flames.
"Choke on it," Yang spat, stomping past the twitching mass of smoldering offal. Touching the warp had scattered her thoughts, and left her shaking. She tried to muscle through. Her friends were in danger, and she wasn't done yet.
Dazatyhr snarled in rage as he tore through the mon'keigh. His darklight lance purred with pleasure as it cut a swathe of death through the black-armored primitives. Each one burst into nothingness, consumed by a flash of un-being that rent their feeble bodies from reality. He danced and swerved among them, untouchable as his knife claimed their lives.
The mission was not going as planned. Not only had that boot-licking mon'keigh sacrificed itself like a vainglorious fool, but its pathetic cry of distress had alerted its kin. Instead of cowardice and confusion, the primitive camp was studded with pockets of panicked resistance.
And the wyches!
Those detestable wyches! As predicted, they were more concerned with taking captives and practicing their inane artistry than the task at hand. His trueborn officers remained with him however, carving through the mon'keigh as they pushed towards their target.
He could see her, a crude sword in her hand swinging back and forth as she ordered her underlings around. His frustration evaporated once he realized her attentions were directed elsewhere. A few precise blasts from his splinter pistol, and she'd be ripe for the taking.
A mon'keigh died underneath him, split in half by a careless swipe of his knife. It screamed and wept, stumpy hands clenching as it tried to accept the fact of its death. In his ear, his kabal howled orders and commendations to each other, reveling in the slaughter.
Striking deep into the mon'keigh battle-lines, Dazatyhr signalled his officers. The time to strike is now. They wheeled around, slicing apart any primitive stupid enough to cross them and fast enough to reach them. The seven of them were a blur, the striking tip of a spear.
Closer.
His fingers wrapped around the hilt of his splinter pistol, wrenching it free of its holster.
Closer.
She was unaware. Ripe, easy prey. A hidden smile split his face. Success is mine!
Red filled his vision as searing lasbolts lit into his officers. Two of them stumbled and rolled, momentum pitching them forward despite the smoking holes in their chest. A streak of crimson robes fell upon them.
A metallic mon'keigh swathed in red cut his best warriors apart like succulent meat. Its swords whirred like machinery, one catching Vandrax across the stomach. He stumbled and backpedaled in pain before the blades flashed once more, each one paring more from him until he was but a single foot. Viscera rained down upon him, and he realized he was alone. El'Ezereth and the other officers had deserted him.
"Treachery! Cowards!" He shrieked. "I-Impossible!" He managed.
"Quite possible, xenos," a woman replied. She raised her fist, and the monstrous, blood-soaked mon'keigh stood down. The Inquisitor stalked towards him. His target. Faintly, he was aware of the dimming sounds of battle. Dazatyhr couldn't be sure, everything seemed to vanish around the Inquisitor, swallowed by the strangling force of her presence.
"I've come for you, Inquisitor," he said, pushing down the fear that swelled within him. Death here was nothing compared to the punishment for failure. "Prepare yourself." She did not reply as expected. A laugh escaped her, devoid of mirth.
"You amuse me, xenos. Your coming was as subtle as a battleship." She waved her hands, and a swirling black rune sprung into existence at his feet, splaying him against the ground, helpless and vulnerable. With a chill-wind whisper, a blade of ice jammed itself into his spine. Pain exploded through every core of his being before Dazatyhr felt nothing at all.
The Inquisitor stepped forward, and panic demanded he flee, but his limbs refused to obey. He forced his lips to curse and spit, but they only drooled into a pool of Vandrax's blood. Her fingers wrapped around his chin and she turned his face, inspecting him as one would a slave.
"You and what remains of your kin will make an excellent goodwill gift to Magos Prexius," she said. "Tyrham's depraved pet enjoys her toys, after all. She will be quite pleased with you, I think. It is very rarely that such fine specimens of Commorragh find themselves in such a... troublesome predicament."
Her gauntlet enveloped his face, and when Dazatyhr tried to scream, naught but silence escaped him.
Yang leapt over the side of the crater, scooping up her sword as her feet skidded across the ground. When she saw the xenos among Gamma, her heart leapt into her throat, borne on the back of green bile. Bounding forward, she bellowed a wordless war-cry. One reached for Ros, taut muscles in its bare leg straining with battle-lust.
Screaming, Yang launched herself forward with a double burst from Ember Celica. Bringing her legs up, she smashed into the xenos, feeling the creature break from the sheer impact.
Pressing her knees into it, she ground its body against the rusted earth of Uriel. Lacing her fingers through the alien's onyx-rose hair, she bashed her face against a rusted pipe.
"HANDS."
Again.
"OFF."
Again.
"MY."
AGAIN!
"FRIEND!"
Breathing deep, she let the corpse fall, its pulp-mash skull dripping off her fingers. She grinned. Around her, the xenos were fleeing, dashing across the field of corpses and dancing over the Chimeras. Retreating as quickly as they came.
Good, a voice said. Cowards. Yang shook herself before she felt long hands wrap themselves around her wrist, yanking her towards a squadron of twisted skimmers. Their escape craft. Ember Celica blasted her attempted captor, pellets eating into her exposed flesh. Another crunching bellow of her shotgun-gauntlets ate the xenos' face away.
Yang wrenched her other arm free, heading back for Gamma. She could already see them recovering, shaking and throwing hopeful lasbolts at the vanishing xenos. Theni screamed, shuddering and whimpering as some black toxin pulsed through his veins.
A scream caught her attention.
"YANG!"
Whipping around, she saw Ros in the arms of a xenos, her face streaming tears and blood flowing from a gash on her cheek.
"ROS!" Yang screamed, panic taking her.
Oh no no no no no no no no no no
"ROS!" She repeated. By the front lines of Rollander Chimeras, the torturous fliers swooped low, kicking up loose rust as the eldar clambered aboard. They were already a hundred meters away, her friend swallowed up in a sea of twisted ebony armor.
"ROS!" She bellowed, breaking into a sprint. Her feet flew across the battlefield, over the bodies of comrades and xenos alike, all stewing in pools of gore.
No no no no no no no no no
"I'm coming for you!" She said, "hold tight!" Ros heard her cries, twisting around the grip of her captors to face her. She reached out for Yang, lips working as tears streamed down her face. The xenos shoved her back, packing her aboard with dozens of their comrades. "ROS!"
"Yang!" The cry was faint, but she could hear it above the turmoil. "Help," Her friend's voice rang out above everything, and the world around her seemed to deafen and die. Ros' cry was warbling and stained with salt, her hair flowing in the wind, hair that was red like roses.
Each stride took her a dozen meters. Aura pushed every bounding step to its limits, too fast for the hail of projectiles the xenos heaved upon her. The wind slapped at her face as she dashed to free her friend. When she brought her lasgun to bear, a pulse of baleful blue engines carried the fliers away, sending them soaring towards the clouded sky.
Yang screamed until blood flowed from her throat.
"ROS!" A brace of needling projectiles struck her, knocking her aside and throwing her onto the corpse of a bifurcated Woadian. She leapt to her feet. Weiss! Weiss can help, she realized. Pressing her microbead into her ear, she tried to drown out the noise and the brazen whispers that assaulted her. Each second, the crafts soared higher, farther away into the night.
"Weiss! They took my friend! Get a valkyrie on them, ASAP!" She cried, "They're just above the foundry, you can still catch them." Static answered her. "Weiss?"
"Yang… I can't." The words were daggers, long crystal blades that skewered Yang to the earth. Uriel swayed and shook, her aura burning low, the Inquisitor's words cutting more cleanly than any sword.
"Weiss," she said, swallowing a mouthful of blood. "You are going to bring those fliers down, or give me something so I can do it myself."
"Y-"
"NOW!" Yang screeched, "Right Emperor-fucking now, you stupid cunt! ARE YOU DEAF?! I DON'T CARE WHAT IT TAKES, YOU BRING MY FRIEND BACK NOW!"
"Chung's engaged right now, and the skies are still contested. Scream all you like," the voice said, the voice of the Inquisitor, the voice of not-Weiss, "I can't do anything about it. She's... gone."
Yang's knees wobbled, a weakness stabbing itself into her legs until they couldn't support her weight. She fell.
"There's nothing I can do," the Inquisitor said. "I'm… sorry."
Yang screamed, hands pulling at the matted gold that consumed her face.
"YANG!" The Inquisitor cried, furious. She ripped the microbead from her ear, crushing it underneath the heel of her boot, grinding it into scrap. Each breath was labored and heavy, sucked through clenched teeth. Yang shook.
"Y-Yang?" Caolin asked, his boots scraping the earth as his feet carried him towards her. "I… she…" She didn't dare turn around, meet his eyes. His pain rolled out from every fiber of his being, black tendrils that wrapped themselves around her, feeding her, strangling her. "Ros… oh Emperor. Emperor. Emperor. Emperor. No." His words seemed so soft and pitiful, a child's in the midst of a riot. "No, Emperor, no, no, no." He didn't ask a thing of Yang, he said nothing but a litany of prayer and denial that tumbled out his mouth in a jumbled mess of scattered words. Her fists hammered the earth as tears fell from her face and disappeared into the tangled mess of scrap they trod upon.
"Yang," Caolin said, reaching out for her, his hand pulling at her pauldron. "E-easy." Yang rounded on him, furor at a fever pitch. He didn't flinch, didn't budge. Where Caolin once stood was an old man, stained with gore and grime. Weak, trembling shoulders hung limp at his side, eyes robbed of light. "Y-Yang," he said, throat working. "What happened?"
"They took her," she managed, each word tasting like Ruby. "They took her from me."
no please don't go ruby, please no
it's okay yang, shh, shh... c'mon let me see that smile of yours
no please you can't i love you so much
help me yang
Ros screamed, hand reaching out promise broken broken broken shattered gone dead and then she was ruby
you promised
"Oh Emperor, I loved her so much," Caolin said, reaching into his pocket. Yang barely heard him, she was too busy drowning. "It's not fair. L-look Yang, here's… here's us in Bardigaal."
that's the sappiest shit i've heard in a long time
hahahaha
but damn does it feel good to hear
"That asshole Koris cheated on her the day she left, I guaran-fucking-tee it. She never saw how he looked at other w-women. F-f-fuck, it's not fucking fair. See Yang, she told me not to tell you, b-b-but look, look at her smile."
Caolin reached around, holding a wrinkled pict in front of her. A youthful Caolin sat smiling right next to a weary Ros, a bundle of blankets in her arms, her husband at her side. The bundle had a face inside, with tiny wisps of red, red hair.
Yang felt like she was drowning.
Let go, a voice said. Make them pay. The voice was her own, and Dust did it sound sweet, it sounded like it never knew tears, never broke a promise. Kill.
Yes.
"I loved her," Caolin said, a fact as simple as war in the Imperium.
You know what you're good for, what feels good. Don't wallow, don't despair, don't do that, Weiss was right, you're of no use to anyone like that!
Her head snapped up, eyes now bone-dry. Caolin's blubbering continued, but fuck she just didn't care anymore. In fact, she wanted to push her thumbs into his eyes until they popped like grapes and blood filled her palms. Kill.
Yes.
That's what she needed to do. Ros was gone, she knew it, knew it in her heart, knew it because it felt the same when Ruby left. Kill.
Yes.
Escape, run away, give in. That was the best way to make it all disappear. Kill.
Yes.
Blood dripped from her lips, spattering onto her blue-streaked flak armor. Fighting the xenos… so much fun! A challenge! Yang giggled. Kill!
Yes!
They were gone, oh bad, so sad, all gone. But right in front of her stood a hive of cultists, a tower of rockcrete and piping, a challenge, a way to feel alive, a way to fill her lungs with air and her veins with the nectar of adrenaline KILL!
YES!
KILL!
KILL!
KILL!
A/N: If you're wondering why Yang's kinda… losing it right now, there's a couple reasons. First and foremost being she's having the worst moment of her life thrown right back in her face. She's also been destabilized by the use of unsanctioned warpcraft. I tried to convey this stuff the best I could, but individual results may vary.
And yeah, the Titan couldn't really boot up in time to do anything, considering the Dark Eldar raid lasted like three-four minutes. Not really enough time for it to do much at all.
Anyway I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! I'd really like to know what you guys thought, so please, let me know. :)
Review Replies:
The Walrus of Eden: Ha! Hope you enjoyed the chapter. :D
Nemris: Thank you so much! I always love getting your reviews, and I'm thrilled to hear you're still enjoying the story so much. I can't wait to see what you have in store!
blaiseingfire: Goddamn right.
Gafgar: Unfortunately, it was sleeping anyway. I don't think the Deldar wanted to try anything when it was awake...
ATP: Apparently not... although they probably would have wrecked shit if they could...
snoogenz: Lo, readers, a prophet! :D
star gazer: Oh, awesome! I love hearing reviews like yours. Means I'm doing my job. :)
OBSERVER01: Still a bit before Weiss gets Myrtenaster back, but it should be interesting.
Kiyoushu: Now THAT would have been an interesting scene, huh? On a related note, Traitor!Sisters always rubbed me the wrong way. Not that they can't be manipulated into serving the Dark Gods (their zealotry might blind them), but I don't think they'd ever do it willingly.
PredatorPuck: This guy gets it.
Hypothetical Spiritual Entity: The Black Crusade could technically be considered the 'main' story going on here, but you'll see how things shape up in the coming months. No comments on the power fists (why would I spoil something like that?), but that's an interesting theory about Ruby.
LegionOfMisfits: Hey, glad to see you're back! Love hearing your responses, and I'm always flattered by your responses.
Redcollector: Too bad the Dark Eldar popped by...
tankbuster626: *Ma'am. I'm a ma'am, but I appreciate the sentiment regardless! :D I personally see Lie Ren being an Officio Assassinorum agent, but I could easily Ozpin or any of the 'inner circle' characters being Inquisitors... they're so damnably mysterious!
soupie13941: Couldn't find the link... mind just telling me what the song is? Glad to hear you're enjoying the fic so much! :D
Heitomos: Thanks! Weiss' new powers will be included/ignored in due time. I'm going to see how this season plays out before doing anything hasty.
Sigurd: I'm thrilled you're having so much fun! Hopefully this battle satisfied too. :) Sorry to hear you lost your bet though... XD
Thank you to everyone who's left a review. Buckle up though, because the next chapter... it's not exactly sunshine and rainbows. :(