Chapter 2
015.M3, Holy Terra, New York, Queens, Afternoon
Peter Parker had just finished enduring another day of school. He, Ned, and Michelle were walking home together. They would study, and then Ned and Pete would go off and play superhero. Michelle knew. Pete just wasn't quite sure what she thought of it. She would find ways to help him cover whenever he was "called to duty," but she never really brought it up. She would tease them to no avail, but with Michelle, Spider-man was the one topic she didn't broach.
Today was different, though. Instead of talking about homework and clubs and activities, their conversation steered to the events of yesterday, the run-in with the strange people found in the alley.
"So, you really think that these guys could be HYDRA, and you're still going back to them?" Ned asked.
"Sounds about right," Peter replied.
"Are you crazy? They could kill you! You don't know how dangerous they are!" he exclaimed.
"Ned does have a point. You said yourself that the robot-guy was holding that woman down," Michelle added. "But then, when do you ever follow the logical?"
"Okay, but if I keep them close, then I'll be the first to know if they're plotting anything," Peter said, tapping his forehead.
"Aren't you worried that they could figure out who you are? Track you down and hurt the people closest to you?" Ned asked.
"Well, they didn't really seem like they're from around here. Still, I'll just head in there as Spidey, and no one will be the wiser. I mean, they already know Spidey, so I doubt they'd recognize a kid or even want to cooperate with a 15-year-old," Peter rambled.
Michelle rolled her eyes. "So tell me, genius: why didn't you just call the cops and let them sort it out?" Michelle retorted.
"I didn't – actually, that's a very valid point. But I maintain that I was more concerned with their wellbeing," Peter replied, crossing his arms over his chest. "C'mon, both were unconscious and one was shot. Obviously, the hospital takes precedence over the police. But, you know what? Come to think of it, I did try to call in some support. I can't help it if Mr. Stark and Director Fury won't take me seriously," Peter said.
"Oh, yeah! They kept blocking all my calls!" Ned said in agreement.
"You know what? I don't care. Just as long as you show up to practice, I don't care what you do."
It was evening and Peter found himself walking back into the hospital. He approached the reception desk, intent on following through and meeting up with Linux again. The guy's looks and story were just too weird. They almost reminded him a bit of Thor – torn from the world they'd known – only a lot nastier. Maybe Loki, then? That was beside the point.
"How can I help you?" the young lady seated behind the counter asked robotically before looking up. Upon seeing Spider-man, she blushed a little and smiled a little more genuinely.
"I'm looking for two rooms. Are Poltava or Trembley in the system?"
"Hold on, let me look this up for you," the girl said, typing away at the keyboard. "Aha! Here. It looks like Poltava checked out earlier today, but Trembley's still here. Room 563, bed B."
"Thank you," Spider-man said as he made his way to the elevator.
His heart was racing as the elevator dinged, letting him off on the floor. He didn't quite know what to expect, but he was fearing the worst. He couldn't imagine the Commissar being anywhere near the hospital, especially after what happened the night before. At the same time, he was worried of what trouble she could instigate. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts as the door came into view. Taking a deep breath, he knocked as he entered the room, expecting the worst.
Samuel Trembley was sitting upright in the bed, engaged in conversation with Linux and the Commissar. He had the white linens pulled up over his legs and the hospital gown covered much of his torso, but the skin on his forearms were crisscrossed with scars. While the Commissar was stern and Linux was unreadable, Sam adopted a small smile. He appeared as if he'd been told a great burden had been spared him. Spider-man exhaled in relief as he neared the trio.
"Hey, I'm back," said Spider-man.
"As expected," replied Linux.
The Commissar said something in her language that was too quick for Spidey to catch. Linux seemed to nod his head in understanding.
"This one went in search of private quarters. The citizens did not take this one's thrones. This one does not have authority to requisition quarters, but the Commissar will."
As Linux spoke, the Commissar's lips drew tight and she folded her arms across her chest. Peter felt keenly aware of her hawkish gaze. Slowly, comprehension of what Linux had said dawned across Spider-man's masked features.
"You're trying to get a house!"
"That is correct."
"Well, if you're thinking about living here in the city, you'd probably be better off renting – though if you want to buy, I know a lot of people live closer to the limits. It's cheaper that way."
"Your governor does not provide all citizens with housing?" Linux further inquired.
"No. Everyone here works, they make some money, and they use that money to buy things, like cars, a house, computers."
"Technology can be bought?"
"Yeah. Some stuff is more expensive, like gaming station and heavy gaming computers, but there are smaller items that are cheaper, but they don't work as well."
"Are there toasters?"
"Uh, unless you and I have different definitions of what toasters are, yeah. I can help you purchase one once you have a place to live."
Linux paused before quickly talking to the Commissar. Peter assumed he was translating. The Commissar frowned at something Linux said, looking rather exasperated. When Linux spoke to Peter again, the Tech Priest sounded almost happy.
"This one desires to gain an occupation to purchase toasters."
"Okay, well, considering that you don't have any money-"
"Correction: We have throne gelts the citizens refuse to accept," Linux interrupted.
"-accepted here," Spider-man gave a look to Linux before continuing, "I can recommend you to this shelter here," he said, pulling out his smartphone and pulling up the location of one of the homeless shelters on the map app.
Linux went silent for a moment before gingerly extending two bionic arms. It was as if the smartphone that Peter held in his hands with its little colorful touchscreen was a sacred artifact.
"May I?" Linux asked reverently.
"Uh, yeah. Just, don't navigate from the page."
Carefully, Enginseer Linux accepted the phone into his hands. He held it for a moment, as if unsure of what to do. Peter supposed it was probably just his way of memorizing the route to the destination on the screen. He didn't think anything of it. Then, the Enginseer did something with his hands. It looked like he selected some wire attachment from his wrist. Only after Linux made the connection and the screen flicker through several screens in seconds did Peter realize what was happening.
"No!" he said, yanking the phone out of the Tech Priest's hands, severing the connection. Linux merely looked at him, as if unsure of what action that he had taken was wrong. The Commissar voiced something and the Enginseer replied in kind.
"Have I erred?" Linux asked.
"What were you doing with my phone," Spider-man asked crossly.
"I was attempting to reconcile with the Machine Spirit. It was willing, innocent."
"I don't even know what that means, but stay out of my phone. It's personal," Spider-man reprimanded Linux.
"I will keep that in mind, Peter Parker."
Spider-man's breath caught in his throat. How much did Linux glean from just those few seconds of interaction with his phone?
He looked at Linux square in the oculars. "You can never say that name when I am dressed like this. Only call me 'Spider-man'," Peter said gravely.
"Understood, Spider-man."
"I need to go," Peter said, practically fleeing the room.
"Well, that could have gone better," Commissar Poltava remarked. "I was trying to remind you that regular people don't typically like having other people touch their guns. Not quite sure what that little map meant, but it certainly seemed personal to 'Spider-man.'"
"That Machine Spirit. It was not alone. I gleaned what I could from the little Spirit – there were no firewalls or counter-viruses or anything. It was beautiful how innocent the technology was. And it showed me there are so many more of them out there, all connected. But, I could not ask it what rituals the civilians here perform for the little Spirits. The connection was terminated too quickly. I will need to make amends the next time we meet."
Poltava looked to Pvt Trembley. "How are you feeling now?"
"Much better. A lot less pressure in the head."
"Good. Sounds like you're recovering well from the Warp-sickness. How are your legs? The connection still sound? Does Enginseer Linux need to calibrate them at all?"
"The connection seems well enough, but I don't know if I'll get another chance, so I'll take it while it's offered," Sam replied.
Poltava looked to the Tech Priest and gestured to Trembley. "Can you do a calibration now?"
"Affirmative," Linux responded, sweeping back the linen covers to access Sam's legs.
They were solid grey things, composed of durable plasteel. Light without sacrificing integrity. The Tech Priest brought all of his limbs into play as he began the calibrations process. Connections were tightened and screws realigned, the adjustments were made with such precision to be almost unnoticeable to the naked eye. But then, the Tech Priest's own eyes were augmented, so that he could better see the workings of his craft.
"Calibrations complete," Linux said, tucking the extra limbs and tools beneath his red robes.
Just as his robes finished settling back into place, more people entered the room. Poltava, Linux, and Trembley looked to see who these newcomers were.
"He's just inside, officers. He woke only a few hours ago," the nurse informed the two officers in blue as they entered. Then, she saw the other two visitors in the room. "Hey, you're not supposed to be here!"
Commissar Poltava looked to Linux in confusion. He offered her a quick translation.
Before any of the Imperials had a chance to voice any dissent, one of the officers began to approach Poltava.
"Ma'am, we have reasonable suspicion that you're connected to the abuse case of one Samuel Trembley." At the mention of his name, Sam looked between the officers, his Commissar, and the Tech Priest.
"Ma'am, we're just going to cuff your hands and take you back to the station."
Commissar Poltava quickly snatched her hands away and took a step back.
"Enginseer, who are they? What are they doing?" she quickly snarled at the Tech Priest.
"They appear to be the local Arbites," Linux replied.
"Hey, talk in English. We need to be able to understand you," one officer demanded.
"Excuse us, Arbiters, we are new to this Sector. We have not willing broken the Code of Law of this system. May you be merciful in your execution of judgement," Linux appeal, humbling himself as he made the sign of the cog with his hands.
When faced with the Adeptus Arbites of the Imperium, one did not hold high hopes. Arbites are the judge, jury, and executioners of the Lex Imperialis, and if one catches any citizen of committing a crime, then that citizen becomes a dead man walking while the Arbites executes their justice. In the Imperium, there are no second chances. All Commissar Poltava and Private Trembley were hoping was that Enginseer Linux would be able to buy them enough time to get away. If they went with these local Arbites, then they are dead.
Discreetly, Poltava checked the window, trying to gauge the distance to the ground. She grit her teeth. They were on the 5th floor. Perhaps if they tried to scale the wall? No, the Guardsman didn't yet have his equipment back.
"Linux, help me make a distraction. Trembley's going to retrieve his equipment from the lockers. We'll regroup outside the hospital. Keep your vox-beads on!" Poltava quickly ordered. "Now!"
At once, Enginseer Linux turned into a flurry, mechanical limbs flying about. Both officers were forced back and the nurse went running.
«Path to hallway cleared,» intoned the Tech Priest.
«Good. Keep them off us, Linux. I'm with Trembley – we're headed to the personal effects lockers,» Commissar Poltava said.
«Acknowledged.»
On the overhead, Linux heard the voice that had spoken when the Commissar woke.
"Mobile Code Grey, Ward 5. Mobile Code Grey, Ward 5. Mobile Code Grey, Ward 5," it intoned.
«Commissar, they are heralding reinforcements.»
«Understood.»
Sam Trembley followed close behind the Commissar as she plowed through the corridor, forcing nurses, orderlies, and janitors to leap out of the way or be knocked over in the rush. Sam, still not completely jaded by all he had seen, still muttered out quick "Sorry!"s and "Excuse me!"s as they pushed their way through.
Soon, the two arrived at the door. Poltava tried the handle. It was locked. She grabbed he power sword and thumbed the activation rune. The blade hummed to life with the blue glow of plasma. Quickly, she stabbed through the door, destroying the locking mechanism, and pushed it open. The room was empty, unsurprisingly, but rows of caged lockers lined the walled.
Just as quickly as she mutilated the door did Commissar Poltava slice off the lock to the cage housing the Guardsman's gear.
"Get dressed. I'll watch the door," she ordered.
«I am in the stairwell. Arbites have me cornered from above and below,» Linux updated over their vox channel.
«We've obtained Pvt Trembley's gear. Get yourself out,» Poltava replied.
«Acknowledged. Commencing self-extraction,» Linux said.
With the local Arbites cornering him from above and below, Linux had found himself trapped. Unable to advance up or down in the traditional safe sense, he gave a quick attempt to break the glass windows of the stairwell. Unfortunately for him the glass was reinforced, thick panes with metal inside – bullet proof and shatter proof to prevent patients from leaping to their deaths.
Linux turned his head, facing the only other alternative available to him. Quickly, his mechadendrites lashed out, grabbing hold of the metal railing while flinging his form over and down. He let himself drop several feet before reaching out with another mechadendrite in a controlled fall. He could see a flash of confusion cross the faces of the Arbites. He'd almost finished his descent when something landed on his back, sending volts of energy though his system.
=Error: Power Overload=
=Rerouting excess power to secondary systems=
He missed the last railing as his mechadendrites froze, and he hissed in binaric as he fell the remaining feet to the cement floor, collapsing with a muffled metallic "bang." To the cops above, it sounded like a computer had just been dropped, and was now hissing static and dial-up tones.
++Mechadendrites: critical failure++
++Mechadendrites: offline++
++Heart: arrhythmic++
++Restarting system in 59 seconds++
Linux hissed again in frustration, using his bionic arms to return himself upright. The mechadendrites harnessed to his back were now a dead weight until he could reach safety to restart his whole system. The Machine Spirit that operated his heart was protesting as he continued to push himself. He would not die today at the hands of these Arbites.
++Restart delayed++
++Restarting system in 5 minutes++
++164 programs terminated++
++Skitarii survival protocols enabled++
He could no longer understand what the Arbites were saying. He assumed the translation program was one of the terminated programs.
Linux stumbled on his feet as he rushed to a solid looking door labeled with white lettering on a red background. Considering it showed a picture of a person fleeing some thick squiggly lines – almost like a fire, he supposed – he pushed hard on the door.
He was met with sunlight, asphalt, and the sounds of automobiles running up and down the street not too far away. He was out of the hospital. Now it was time to regroup and lay low.
Once Sam had reclaimed his gear, he and his commissar met with little resistance as they raced for the hospital exit. Sam couldn't help but note the fear in everyone's eyes: patients, medicae, maintenance workers, and even the one Arbites they slipped past. Whenever Arbites were involved, fear was logical. Within a single breath, the Arbites could finish prosecuting and executing one citizen and turn to the next just for being in the vicinity of the proceedings. But Sam couldn't place why the Arbites himself would be fearful. He would have to ask Linux to ask that masked character they'd met earlier.
Once out of the hospital, they immediately took off down the street and down the second alley they came across. It was strange, this city. It was bustling and busy, but not anywhere close to the scale of a hive world.
He dodged and ducked around a fire escape and some trash.
«Commissar – What planet did you say this was?» he asked through the vox-bead in his helmet.
«Holy Terra,» she replied.
Sam went silent in shock. These dingy alleys that they were running through, the very dirt on the ground was sacred. He shook his arm, sending the little bracelet on it to drop down. He thumbed the little pendant on it, a small, golden double Aquila, as a small smile graced his features nonetheless.
«The Emperor protects,» he breathed through his vox.
«Indeed he does. Now if he could just send me a map so we can lose these Arbites,» Commissar Poltava remarked. «Praise the Emperor that these signs are at least marked in a Gothic-based alphabet. Let's try to rendezvous now. There's a 132 and something that says 'Hail Iamaica' ahead. We'll cut through 'Hail Iamaica' and head up another smaller street, see if we can confuse the Arbites,» she ordered.
The was a beat.
«Enginseer, do you copy?» Poltava repeated.
More silence.
«Shit, looks like the Omnissiah took a vacation. We'll continue on our path. He'll rendezvous if he can – when he can,» said Poltava.
Then, Linux's voice sounded through their vox-beads, voice heavily distorted.
«… try….eet up...'ave sust...ned…vy dam…ge…traction…stems restar…ent…»
Sam shot the commissar a worried expression.
«Will he be alright?»
«It may be easier to help him get out than have him find us,» the Commissar mused. «Enginseer, what are your coordinates?»
«…three-four…eight-ni...rep…t: one…ree-f…nd ei…ine….peat: one-three… and eigh…nine» Linux replied as well as he could.
«Trembley, can you make anything of that?»
«It's rough, but the second part is 89 – I think the first part is 134.»
«Good. Sound's like he wasn't too far behind us. I'll backtrack toward the hospital. Trembley: search for shelter.»
«Yes, Ma'am,» the young Guardsman said, quickly saluting with the sign of the Aquila.
AN: I think I have enough buffer to be able to update comfortably at around 1 per week, and I'll probably post them around the end of the week. Thank you to all the people who've followed and favorited so far! These early chapters are a bit rough, and I have already gone back and edited them before posting. I was still feeling around for what I wanted to do with the prompt of "Warhammer meets Spider-man," but I think I've found a little momentum. Feel free to comment with speculation or hopes of what may happen. Considering this is a fan work blending two different universes, things will be drifting and differing from both lores. I just hope that my interpretations remain true to the source materials. And, because I have not yet said it, I do not own Marvel nor the Avengers nor Games Workshop nor Warhammer 40k.
Update: 11/11/2018 - It looks like when I set this up, Fanfiction ate some of my quotation marks. Needed to change out the double "" and "" that I was using and replace them with actual marks « ».