The Abandoned
A distant and forsaken planet covered with coarse sand and tunnel ridden mountain formations. Weeks lasting sandstorms are whipping the surface, slowly reshaping it, like a slow, but determined planetary belt sander.
As the winds are picking up, the rising intensity is endangering an Imperial Fists undertaking. A recon mission turned into a fight for survival saw the majority of a company abandoning the greenskin ridden planet to regroup and plan a counter attack, purging the xenos. A squad however was delayed in the tunnel systems. Ten space marines with their sergeant rush through the stone walled veins to reach their transport. No Astartes considers a retreat an honourable decision, but as they are running dangerously low on bolter ammo, damaged and without a viable strategy to hold their ground, the yellow armoured warriors are left with no other choice. The ork filth will pay with their lives.
As they are progressing towards the exit, the light of day is slowly but surely pouring in the halls of rock, fighting the darkness, giving the Fists hope to live to fight another day. Mere few turns away from their salvation, the group who are being followed by a fanged mass of bloodthirsty orks, seeking to hunt down the ceramite clad prey are left with very few options. Just seconds away from being overtaken by their fungal hunters, the sergeant makes a rash decision. In hopes of separating his brothers from their stalkers, he goes for a frag grenade resting upon his belt. He lets the Dorn's finest pass him and lobs the grenade towards the orks. It explodes in an eye stinging flash, the loud bang shakes the very ground they are running on. The blast took him of his feet, tossing him meters away, disintegrating the nearest of the xenos. All of them stunned by the unexpected discharge, they halt as they see the burrow start to rumble and lose its integrity. Large boulders tear from the ceiling, leaving an unpassable mass between the Imperial Fists and the greenskins.
The explosive device did what it was supposed to, yet not without a cost. While the Astartes were out of danger, a gloved hand was protruding out of the rubble, accompanied by a barely visible red helm, pinned down, unmovable.
»Sergeant! « A single word echoed through the ringing ears of the armoured warriors.
» Go! Get away from this wretched place! « The voice came from the buried, fractured helmet.
The warriors ignored it and attempted to free their brother. Even with their inhuman strength, their combined effort did not suffice. They removed the smaller parts, yet the sheer mass and weight of the collapsed cave proved more than they could handle.
» GO! « The immovable sergeant persisted.
» We are not leaving you behind! We are going to get you out of this! «
» I said go! That's an order! I knew the risk of my actions and it was the only way. You have your window to go and get reinforcements. Regroup with our brothers, tell them what happened and return to cleanse this rock of the foul greenskins! «
» We can do this; we can blast the boulders to smaller pieces and pry you …«
He was interrupted by a vox amplified shout that shook the cavern.
»Leave, now! «
They hesitated for a few moments, yet they slowly nodded their heads, turned around and headed in the exits direction.
» We'll be back, and we will find you, sergeant. By Dorns grace, we will find you. « Said the last of them. He placed a few clips and a bolt pistol next to the fallen one's hand.
» You have my word, we will find you. Just stay alive. «
He hurried to catch up with the rest of them.
Their footsteps were becoming distant and in short moments, they were no longer heard. The lonely marine was left in a pitch black darkness of depressing silence. Completely unable to move anything but his forearm, he considered his unpleasant situation. Giving up was never an option. He will either survive, or fight until his last breath. His communications were not able to pick up anything, nor could he send out a single word. Blue lensed helm was damaged by the impact, yet solid enough to provide protection, should an attack occur. At least for long enough to take as many of them with him as possible.
At least he wasn't hurt, other than his pride. His armour was strong enough to withstand the collapse even though the ruins rendered him immovable.
Anything that crossed his mind proved futile. Another grenade was fixed to his belt that could be used. The explosion would surely damage him badly, but that would still be preferable to being hopeless in there. Yet he could not move, nor could he reach any of his gear that could help him out of the debris.
…
As he lied there, the empty silence was slowly getting replaced by a whistling noise, like a sea of sound, creeping in the cave system wave after wave. It was the sandstorm getting stronger. Even before, it made transport from or to the planet highly dangerous, now it was just impossible. From underneath the blue eye lenses, the Fist was listening to the playful howl of the winds, rebounding from the walls, travelling further down the path until it was all but smothered by the stone wreckage that blanketed him. The song of winds was soon accompanied by approaching thumps of sluggish footsteps. A trio of pointy eared orks sought refuge from the storm in the very tunnels the sergeant had been buried in. The yellow armoured hand instinctly grabbed the bolt pistol in a blink of an eye but as the finger touched the trigger, a shot didn't follow. The Astartes decided to wait a moment. His ammo supplies were limited, movement wasn't possible and the greenskins don't have the best of eyesight, the black darkness making them depend more on other senses.
The barrel of the pistol followed them as they stumbled closer and closer, bumping into each other as they went. All three could be eliminated before they even knew where the shot came from, but wasting shells might not be necessary. The grunting trio approached in single file as the middle one tripped and pushed the nearest one, making him tumble and smash his face directly next to the obstructed red helmet. The xeno picked himself up, his meaty hands clasping his jaw, blood dripping down in between his stumpy fingers.
» Ya zogging grot sniffer! Ya made mah big toof fall off! « He roared at his companion, red droplets spraying on him as he spoke.
» Did not! Tha rok did broke yer toof! «
» Tha rok? « Reaching for the other one with his bloodied hands, he spun and drove the unprepared Ork face into the ground and followed it with a heavy stomp to the back of its head.
» Look, tha floor broke yer face! «
Now equally enraged, the newly wounded xeno rose and swung his hefty fist towards his attacker. The impact was so loud, it defeated the howling winds for a moment.
The two of them fought viciously, blows thudding and blood splattering, while the third one just stood there, enjoying the show as much as he saw it. One of them managed to get behind the other, gripping its head tight between its leathery palms. As he squeezed harder and harder he rendered his opponent defenceless, causing his body to twitch uncontrollably. The skull started to crack and a heartbeat later collapsed into itself, forcing the unprotected brain matter to be ejected, landing in blobs on the floor meters away.
The panting winner tossed the lifeless corpse down the path with a victorious roar and it landed on the exposed forearm that was still holding a loaded bolt pistol. It made the marine accidentally fire the weapon and the shot took off the top of the celebrating combatants head with a moist splatter. The last one standing flinched in confusion as the second of his tribemates fell dead to the floor, the rest of its head contents spilling out of the exposed cranium.
He headed towards where the flash came from, bringing his weapon up in front of him, prepared to both defend and attack if needed. He caught the scent of the pinned marine and started grinning.
» Pinkie! I'll gut ya for that! Wuz a stronk Ork he wuz! «
As he lifted his mace to swing it down upon the crimson helmet, another shot brightened the chamber for a split second, exposing three corpses, the third one still falling backwards in mid-air.
Aiming his pistol down the path, waiting if any more enemies will follow, he held his breath for a long moment, then lowering the weapon, allowing himself a sigh of relief as it became clear the Imperial Fist was alone once again. That however, was a very brief consolation as his rocky cover started shaking. At first it was just a gentle vibration that evolved to tremors very fast. Sand and pebbles began to pour down the surrounding boulders, clanking as they playfully bounced from his metal mask. In a distance far behind him a group of barely heard muffled voices got stronger as they reached the other side of the collapsed cave. The voices must have started working on the boulders because now everything was shaking, there was audible banging and the sergeant could recognize their speech as very rough low gothic. That could only mean the three rotting bodies in front of him were a part of a bigger search party, who got separated by the unpredictable grinding weather outside. The fired bolter rounds alerted the group to their presence and now the crazed Orks, driven by the smell of their decaying brethren mixed with a human scent, were determined to tear the abandoned Space marine to shreds. Their progress was slow but effective, the sound of them getting louder and louder to the point where he could recognize some of the words. Unfortunately, most of the words described his very violent end.
…
That was when the situation turned to chaos. The tremors became violent quaking, the banging became ear rupturing screech and gut wrenching bass. Half of the enormous rock formations were obliterated to barely visible grains at first. The greenskins were violently shaking, confused terror in all of their eyes. Beastly snarls and growls leaving their fanged mouths as they contorted and convulsed. Their armour pieces were torn off. The exposed flesh followed, an unknown force turning it to mush, painting the walls with dark red gore. Finally the remains, skeletal forms covered with lumps of leftover tissue seized to exist, ground up in a dissipating cloud of bone powder. Two thirds of the pileup wasn't there anymore. Most of what was left lied on top of the sergeant, otherwise the natural corridor had now been passable again. While still being held down by the weight, he could now at least move his head and his entire arm. Dazed from the havoc that just transpired he looked around, assessing the situation, trying to understand what just happened. The walls and ceiling were smeared with viscous substance, as if someone tossed a bucket of paint on a wall. A lot of his stone prison was gone, and so were the attackers besides some leftover feet, bones and half broken armour pieces. The dust from the shaking and destroyed rubble was still thick in the air and just started to settle. The ceiling now had several gaps, forming cones of light that illuminated the cave and increased visibility. But the source of the teeth shattering sound that caused all of this was nowhere to be found. He lied there in the returning silence, trying to pry himself out of the newly loosened trap when the sound of heavy steps appeared nearby.
» Luck really isn't on your side, is it? Son of Dorn. « The voice was raspy, uneven yet somewhat melodic, as if someone's vocal chords had been damaged and never healed properly.
Whoever spoke, it came from behind the marine in yellow, where he couldn't aim with his sidearm.
» Abandoned, alone, trapped and stalked by xeno filth. You've seen better days, I think. «
» But it seems I am not alone though, am I? Am I speaking to a friend or foe? «
The answer to that was a rough chuckle.
A hulking figure belonging to a fellow Astartes slowly showed itself from out of the dark corner, giving a face to the echoing words. It wore a ceramite armour, painted with bright pink and black, though much of the colour was shaved off either by battle or the sandstorms. The approaching stranger wore a helmet with a long Ultramarine blue mohawk, his visage an angry scowl. A semblance of a golden winged claw was visible on his left shoulder pad. In his hands, a large and peculiar weapon that looked more like a stringed musical instrument than a firearm aimed directly at the helpless space marine.
The eyes behind the blue lenses widened as he realized what was coming towards him, recognizing the colour scheme and the insignia.
» Pink taint of Chaos! Whore of Slaanesh! You are one of the Fulgrims abominations! An Emperor's Children heretic! I shall remove your head from your wretched body, if it is the last thing I do, or my name isn't Naykos! « The furious shouts raised the dust from the floor once more.
» I would lower your voice, brother, lest you want more of the unpleasant greenskin company. « Replied the Chaos marine, unfazed by the insults.
» Do not call me brother, you heretical disgrace. «
The servant of Slaanesh kneeled down to Naykos.
» A heretic at your arms reach, yet you can't unleash your Emperor's fury upon it. How sad. Not much greater shame can befall upon an Imperial Fist, can it? « His words did more damage than his weapon could.
» You will regret ever being born in the same lifetime as me, filth. Your very existence is an insult to the Emperor and to all of those who once called you brother. «
» As much as your slander pleases me, you may call me Clements. «
» I care not for your name. To me you are just a waste of life, waiting to be snuffed out. «
»Strong words coming from a man looking down the busy end of a modified sonic blaster. Maybe I should be grateful you do not belong to some of your more zealous chapters. Had you been a Black Templar you would probably gnaw through your helmet and rock alike to introduce me to the exquisite caress of death. «
»Anyone loyal to Emperor would end your life at first sight. «
» But you can't, can you? «
The provocations stung deep, infuriated marine started yanking, moving and swaying to get out of his imprisonment. Alas to no avail.
The kneeling chaos marine slowly shook his head.
»Pathetic. I think I'll keep you around for a while. While putting you out of your misery sounds fun, seeing your decay in desperation and realizing your failure tastes so much sweeter.«
He sat down next to the pile of debris and amber armour, leaning back at the wall with his legs outstretched.
» You might as well kill me now, heretic, or your disgraceful brothers will. «
»My brothers? « He chuckled again.
Picking up a stone and tossing it at the opposite side so it broke in a million little pieces, he continued.
»There are no brothers. There are no marines. None loyal to Chaos or to your golden Father. Only thing living on this distorting rock is the two of us and so many Orks it makes your stomach turn. We are alone. «
»What do you mean no one else? Where are the rest of you? «
»Like I said. There is no one. We were in a similar situation to yours. We came to this planet searching for resources, things to indulge in and enjoy. At first it was just a boring rock. We barely spent any time here, didn't seem worth it. All of the sudden, the greenskins came out of nowhere. Their numbers were massive. While their attack was unorganised, the sheer mass of them proved a challenge. They destroyed most of our transports, butchered a lot of my brothers. We fought with all we had, but they kept coming. «
»Still doesn't explain why you are stuck here. «
»I fought on the outer side of the battle. The damn Orks got between me and the rest of us. I watched the survivors take away in the remaining gunships while we were left behind. I've watched those closest to me get overrun, slain, torn apart and obliterated as I retreated to the cave system. Last thing I saw was my closest friend held down by three Orks while the fourth one ripped the head off his shoulders. «
»You should have died with them. «
»I should, I agree. « He nodded, gazing at the floor in front of him, bringing back the images of the massacre to his memory.
» But that wouldn't change anything for them or me. And I don't blame the survivors leaving me here. I'd do the same. «
»How long have you been here? «
»I couldn't tell you. Could be years, decades. Maybe even more. Days here are long and near identic to each other. I spend most of my time here minding my own business, setting traps, scavenging and killing what crosses my path. I've ended countless Orks by now, yet I doubt I made even a dent in their numbers. «
»If the enemy is that numerous, how did you manage to survive? Surely, they would have found you by now. «
»I've had a slight glimpse of fortune in this tragedy. During the initial combat, our Mastodon tank lost control and drove into the summit. The outer side of the vehicle was covered by a landslide and on the inside, the boarding side pierced into the tunnel system. The ramp still opens and closes, and the Orks don't really notice it. We can be grateful that they are as dumb as an eating squig and the darkness makes them ignorant to their surroundings. That's where I stock anything useful that I can find, to survive. And as I've said, I've killed many of them. Their lack of vision in the tunnel system takes away their strength advantage, their size makes them an easy target and I'm good at setting traps. Besides that, they are almost as likely to kill each other as us, given slight stimulation. «
»That I can confirm. I wasn't a big part in making of these three corpses in front of me. «
»It is in their nature. They want to fight. Whom or what doesn't really matter. They want to kill us as much as you want to kill me. And, well, me you. «
»So what is your plan here? You won't kill me for some twisted semblance of pleasure. I can't kill you since I can't get out of this disgrace. And I don't see you repelling infinite attacks, especially with that … whatever that is next to you. « He nodded at the weapon sitting in Clement's lap.
»This? « He slid his finger up the metal strings. A smile creeped on his face under the long haired helmet.
»This is a sonic blaster that I have modified myself. I can adjust it to attack more precisely, or spread the area of attack, the strings are used to fire and control it. Guns are effective, blades are beautifully personal, but nothing beats a sonic weapon. Destroying your opposition with overwhelming perfection that is music. A crowd shattering concerto every time you strum the chords. « Naykos watched him explaining it as he held the peculiar weapon in his arms like a passionate lover.
»Wait. The sound. The deep melody twisted by the high pitched screeches! You did this. You killed the attackers and destroyed the debris around me. You are a noise marine! One of the Vairosean's Kakophoni. « He was both surprised and intrigued.
»I've never fought one of you before. You'll be the first to taste the wrath of Imperium by my hands. However, I have heard stories about you. You are supposed to be the most depraved of the She Who Thirsts followers. « The disgust in his comment was obvious.
»Indulging in the most sickening of situations, just to get a kick out of it. I'm sure you even look more like a creature under that metal grimace you're wearing than an Astartes. «
»You wouldn't be so quick to judgement, had you known the unexplainable sensation anything and everything causes me. The delicious pleasure caused by something as innocent as a nude body or as complex as an ecstasy from seeing a battlefield aftermath. A sea of death, gore and dismembered art. We both see it. Just not through the same eyes« The pink warrior of Chaos seemed distant while replying.
» I can only be thankful for that. All the pleasure I require is serving the Emperor, my chapter and my brothers. I kill only to purify the galaxy of scum like you. «
The sitting hulk of armour looked at him in silence, then bursted in uncontrollable laughter. The sound danced around the cavern, shifting pitch and velocity. It was punctuated by a hint of artificial, mechanically amplified inhales.
» Let's just hope the faith in your Emperor proves enough to make you survive until your loyal pawns return to heroically save you. «
The tension between them was interrupted by a new distraction.
»Ghurtak?! Gruggrond? Gorkul! Wuz dat ya laffin? Where iz ya?« A lone Ork came stumbling down the path.
With slithering speed, Clements shifted behind a short wall of rocks, equipping his serrated dagger.
»Ovah 'ere, ya frudd! Iz a 'oomie wif a red hed! « That came from the pink helmet, an impersonation that fooled the newcomer easily.
»Red? Hah, ya fink he's fast? I like 'em fast. More fon to 'unt down! « He finished his thought with a blade piercing him, slicing a sizeable gash that made the insides spill out on his legs.
»Ya damn pinkie! «
The scream was cut short by the blade severing his loud melon from the thick neck.
»A scout party probably. They are going to keep coming. Time to leave you here, for the greenskins to have some fun. Or would you prefer that I end you right now? «
The red helmet replied to that with a taunt, playing a risky gambit.
»Afraid of a fair one on one? I knew you were cowards, but that's low even for you. «
There was a moment of heavy silence with only sound coming from the guts oozing out of their previous home.
»HAH! « The heretic picked up his weapon and aimed it at the sergeant.
»Dangerous game you're playing, but I might enjoy this. «
He fired a quick burst that shattered the rest of the stone ruins.
The dust barely started to settle as the saffron coloured warrior finally escaped his jail. Springing from the obliterated boulders, he swung his fist that connected with Clement's helmeted jaw. The fierce blow sent the blue haired helm flying, racketing away as it landed on the hard ground.
The unmasked villain regained his footing and grinned at the Dorn's soldier with a bloodied smile. He wore a vibrant green haircut much in the image of his lord commander Eidolon. Half of his head clean shaven, the other half full of long, straight strands of hair, falling down to the chest armour. One of his eyes was the colour of a clear summer sky in contrast to the second one that was murky white, surrounded by rows of scars. Blood dripped from his mouth through his short beard when he started shouting.
»I've mangled Adepta Sororitas that hit harder than you! «
Another strike hit him.
»I don't understand why you call yourself Fists! « Laughing, he raised his hands to defend himself.
The freshly freed sergeant didn't hesitate and continued attacking. His rival blocked a few punches and let some of them connecting. Each blow that landed pleased him and filled with vigour, adrenaline and excitement. When he got bored he countered the attacks, smashing a hard kneepad in the softer mid-section of his opponent, followed by an uppercut that rocked him. They were both armed with lethal daggers, but chose to use hands instead. One from pure enjoyment, the other to prove his worth to himself. Enraged, the disciple of Imperium tackled the Chaos servant. Both of them hit the ground hard, causing the floor beneath them to cave in, sending them several levels below.
…
The fall was long and painful. Had they been regular human beings, they would have perished on the spot. For them, it was barely an inconvenience. The descent modelled them a vertical shaft to the lower levels, revealing a giant cavern. What it was hiding explained a lot. They landed next to each other, and as they were picking themselves up, it came to their attention that in front of them was a squig enclosure and just a breath away stood a snotling, staring at them. The tiny creature tried to alert the others, but Clements snatched the small green head in his palm and squeezed it like an overripe fruit in one smooth motion. Naykos checked if anyone else witnessed them, but they appeared to be alone for the moment. He redirected his attention to the nearby cliff and headed towards it. His unlikely companion on the other hand went the opposite way, to the squig pit, a tiny corpse still dangling from in between his fingers. He picked up his helmet and put it on with one hand, leaning on the dangerous red bipedal beings stockade. There were twelve squigs inside. They were roughly knee high, yellow eyed and spherical. At first glance they seemed almost as if they were just giant fanged mouths on legs. The Traitor Legionnaire observed them with almost childlike glee. He tossed the petite body to the beasts and faced the distracted marine.
»Naykos! Come here, look at these! «
»I'm sure this is more important. « He pointed over the precipice.
»And don't you ever disgrace my name with your breath again. « The grating comment was spat over his shoulder.
The heretic intended to return an insult, but a sudden sharp pain in his left elbow proved being a priority. He gazed his green lenses to the source and was surprised to see a set of giant teeth firmly decided to have his arm as a snack. Half of his limb was completely inside of the red nuisance. The hungry monster started yanking, the sharp gnashers closing tighter on the unplated joint. Punching and hitting it against the ground just made it more determined until it finally won the fight for the newly missing limb. It happily ran away before its lifespan could be shortened.
»Choke on it! « Yelled the disarmed Chaos marine.
Cursing silently to himself, he went towards the edge, poking his bloody stump on his way.
»What is it? You missed some fun back there. Only cost me an arm. « He mumbled the last words as he saw and heard what the other marine was taking in. Below them there were hundreds of Orks. Bored Ork boyz fighting each other, Mekboyz building an array of crude vehicles impossibly designed and illogically working. Both ground and air transports half assembled, made from any scrap they could find. A path leading up to the two of them was seeded by several more beast pits. But most importantly, in the middle of the entire ruckus on the bottom floor, a lake of Ork fungi. In that moment it was clear, this planet was doomed.
Naykos shook his head in disbelief, thinking of ways of how he could end all of these xenos, when he spotted with the corner of his eye something slimy resting on his shoulder plate.
»What unholiness is that? «
He followed the unusual matter to the Chaos marine's bicep. It was forming a semblance of an open palm at the end. Each finger was a separate tentacle, moistly reflecting the nearby torch flames. He hit it away with the back of his hand, facing Clements defensively.
»This? Ah, an example of Slaanesh's unending gifts. «
He extended his arm away, separating it in five different wailing whips of flesh and then swirled them back to the previous form, observing the new extension with enjoyment.
»Even your very meat is a spit in the face of your Father. Is there no end to your sad defiance? «
»A corpse rotting on a golden throne is not my father. And one day you'll need to understand neither is it yours. «
»Watch your damn sullied mouth. Cherish every second I grant your pathetic excuse for a life. I could stop being so generous and finally end it. «
»Oh. Why don't you? «
Naykos turned around and nodded to the sea of restless green skinned clods.
»I have bigger problems than one demented heretic.«
The edge of his footing decided to pit a Space Marine against a horde of Orks. The ground where he stood tore apart from the rest of it and sent him flying to the last fight of his life. In mid-air, he accepted his fate and reflexively went for his belted dagger, his purpose to take as many enemies with him as possible. And yet suddenly, his descent reverted in ascend. He was dangling on a rope like noose. Looking back at what's pulling him up, he saw the noise marine on his knees, one hand propped on the rocky terrain, and the other stretched down and around his waist. The forbidden limb he was despising just a moment before, was now slowly returning him from certain demise. Clements gripped the fallen one's gorget and heaved him to safety.
»What do you think you're doing? « Yellow armoured marine jumped to his feet in shame.
»Well it seems I denied a few hundred brutes the pleasure of playing Blood Bowl with your clueless head. «
»That would at least bring some level of redemption. I'm an embarrassment to my chapter. I got buried by some damn rocks, I failed to terminate a slave of Chaos who constantly mocks me and worst of all, I was even saved by him. «
»Don't worry. You'll have a lot more opportunities to go on a one man crusade and die for the glory of brothers who'll never find you before they rain fire and death on this hopeless planet.«
They realized that the cave became unusually silent. There were no more banging metal, no more battle yells, no squeals, grunts and chatter. The falling rocks caught the attention of the xenos and now every eye was fixed on the two marines above. A pure, unbroken silence tortured the catastrophic situation. Then the Emperor's Child started laughing at the top of his lungs and shouted.
»THIS SILENCE OFFENDS SLAANESH! «
The green mass of bodies burst into violent screams and started flooding the path to the human prey. Naykos gripped his bolt pistol in one hand, and a fresh magazine ready to reload in the other. His death shall be glorious. Prepared to stand his ground, aiming to where the first Orks shall meet their end, he noticed that he was suddenly alone. Behind him, a now familiar raspy voice broke his concentration.
»You really have a death wish, don't you? «
Clements was climbing up the pileup that formed after their fall. It led all the way to the upper level of the tunnel system. The Imperial Fist considered the available options and then fired a single shot at the squig enclosure, then rushed towards the rock fall climb and into the dark upper corridors. The now loose and starving red beasts proved just enough of a distraction to stall the savage attackers until he reached the passage. While rushing into the darkness, he took his remaining grenade and tossed it to the chokepoint. This time, the plan worked with a better outcome, sealing the two of them apart from the muffled angry sounds. His weapon ready, he checked his surroundings, realizing that he was once again on his own. The path behind him was now blocked which meant the only way was forward. With a determined step, he continued down the identical hallways. There was nothing to tell them apart to his eye, all he could do was just advance until he reached a possible exit. From time to time, he came across a lone Ork or a smaller batch of them, wandering aimlessly. The single ones were not much of a challenge, falling under his blade to save ammunition. Though he was forced to spend his shells to take care of the groups. Running dangerously low on resources forced him to start avoiding as many altercations as possible. Completely out of his character and defying everything that he was taught, it was the only way to go on. Soon, he started meeting dead greenskins, littering the floor around him. At first, he wasn't sure if they were his work and he was walking in circles, but it quickly became obvious that someone else took care of them. The corpses wore wounds that were caused by a different type of weapons and the gore showed that their end was more violent than the surgical efficiency Naykos was using. The carcasses were becoming more numerous to the point of obstructing the ground enough to make trudging over them difficult. His heavy footsteps were accompanied by wet smacking as lifeless flesh tore from bones under his soles. Not much later, the expired xenos lied in piles, the trail almost completely obscured. Maneuvering over the cadaver obstacles, his grip and weight began sliding through the remains. They were already decomposing, turning to pulp on contact. They must have been there for a while for that. Ploughing through a particularly high corpse pile, one of the greenskins jumped out, tackling him off his feet. He landed on his back, sunk in the rotting remains looking at him. The Ork on top of him survived his previous battle, but only barely. Half of his facial features were missing, with the skull protruding to surface around the empty eye socket. A lot of his torso was pierced by several lacerations and stab wounds. Savagely, his fists were pounding on the ceramite plates of amour and helmet. The blunt hits took chips of paint with them. Each blow sank the marine deeper in the nauseating dissolving tissue. He tried fighting back, but the attacks combined with limited defence were overwhelming. The eye slits of his helmet were starting to be covered by the necrotic flesh, when the two of them got illuminated by a bright acidic green flash of light. In a blink of an eye, the sergeant saw the rest of the mounted Ork's head turn to melted, smoking remains of bone and skin. The body toppled over to the rest of the green death, revealing Clements holding a plasma pistol, still glowing from the fired shot.
»I don't plan on making saving you a habit. «
»Don't count on me returning the favour. I would have won this fight without your help. «
»I'm sure you would, but I got bored watching you build up to the grand victory. «
He extended his hand in mocking help. Naykos slapped it away and picked himself up, cleaning the bigger chunks off of his armour.
» I thought I won't have to tolerate your presence anymore. «
»Did you think an Ork stole your right to finish me? «
»I couldn't care less if you choked to death on a snotling. You don't deserve much more than that. «
»Well, if we don't move, we won't get to kill each other. As you can see, this is a popular path for out xeno hosts. « He stepped on a skull as he said that, slowly crushing it.
»And as we speak, they are flooding these pathways like an angry sewage. Seeing us at their camp didn't do us any good. By the look of that empty bolter pistol hanging by your thigh, I assume you don't plan on taking them on with your little knife. «
The red helmeted marine palmed his gun, knowing the long haired heretic had a point. After thinking about it, he replied.
»That's fine. I'll just search for the stockpile where you retrieved that plasma gun from. «
Clements tilted his head in doubt.
»Do you think that I just leave weapons lying on the ground? You won't find anything. At least not before they find you. But if you want to play nice, I don't mind sharing my toys. This is the most fun I've had since our fabulous apothecary Fabius started improving us.«
»Hold on. Fabius? Fabius Bile? You're talking about your legions initial treachery. «
»I wouldn't call it treachery, but yes, that is correct. Why are you surprised by that? «
»That happened during the age of darkness. Over 400 years ago. Are you telling me that you were there? «
»400? That cannot be true. I landed here just 100 or so years after the great Horus battle. «
The Chaos marine stared in the empty distance in front of him in disbelief.
»No… no no no no no no no no no no, that can't be right. It couldn't have been that long, could it? Lord Fulgrim would have told me. «
Even through his masked front, Naykos could tell that his confusion was genuine.
»Fulgrim? What do you mean? Your fallen Primarch can't be here. Or is this some demonic trickery? Thread carefully, I'm warning you. «
His threats were not needed, as the pink helmet showed no aggression or veiled scheming.
»But he is here! I'll show you! «
In an excited manner, he rushed away.
»You said that you were alone here. « Yellow sergeant whispered to himself. He allowed himself a deep breath for composure and then followed the suspicious legionnaire. The serpentine hallways of stone passed them one by one, a dark rocky tube after another. Two unstoppable hulks of armour didn't seize running until the pink leader started slowing down. A few turns later their trip was finished. The noise marine stood in front of a large metal surface, surrounded by a stone frame. It was purple with the Emperor's Children insignia painted in gold in the middle. Around it, there were remains of a pink paint, as if somebody scraped it off.
»This is it? The entrance to your hideout? It looks like you removed your Chaos taint from it. Having regrets about your betrayal? Shame gave you a well-deserved slap? «
»Heh no. One day, I was eavesdropping on an Ork conversation and they mentioned that purple colour makes you invisible. I have no idea if it works, but I figured it couldn't hurt. So I let our old colours breathe again. « With that, he reached to his gauntlet, remotely opening the Mastodon door. It slowly opened, creaking and hissing. The tank was even darker than the tunnels. Naykos reluctantly stepped inside. As soon as he crossed the threshold of the Chaos marine's hidden chamber, an overwhelming stench hit him, even through his helm's filtration system. The horrid smell was a mix of death, rotting entrails, methane and ammonium mixed with lead. The reek wasn't even the worst part. The lights turned on, revealing the full extent of his surroundings. Upon examining the room, there were several sights that would shake the toughest of Space marines. An assortment of stockpiled weapons ranging from basic melee to crude experimental pieces, reeking of Orkish tech was stacked next to a symbol of Slaanesh. The circular insignia was made using the digestive system of greenskins, nailed to the wall with teeth of a broken chainsword. Below it was a heap of bodily leftovers, slowly melting into one giant unity of decomposing puss covered obscenity. It had a giant indentation as if somebody large used it for sleeping. The only distinctive feature was a number of severed greenskin heads and limbs. Next to it was a workbench Clements must have been using for experiments and fixing his equipment. On the other side, opposite of the pile of rot was a crude shelf and on it, five helmets silently rested. All were in the pink and black colours of the Chaos corrupted Emperor's Children. Different forms of damage distorted the once mighty design of a mark VII helmet. Scrapes, holes, tears and dents told the vague story of how each of the warriors met his demise. Above the headgear, names were written in blood and around them all words I am sorry were scratched in a countless of times. Naykos was hesitant to observe the grim gallery, slowly stepping to the center, when he finally gazed upon the most horrific sight of his war ridden life.
It was a giant, over three meters tall statue, dwarfing the yellow armoured Fist. The silent idol depicted a majestic warrior. The physique was a mashup of body parts and grotesque faces outstretched to unnatural formations. Feet protruding from mouths, fingers piercing eyelids and holding them open were sewn together to form a semblance of a humanoid silhouette. The mutilated sculpture was covered with disassembled armour parts of fallen brethren in pink and scarlet, decorated by gold ornaments. The figures head was another helmet with a human profile fitted across it and melted in the metal at the edges. Blood was used as makeup to make it more lifelike. From its shoulder pads, a ginormous cape was strewn apart, fixed to the wall in a half circle. It was made from combined flayed skin, moist scabbing red flesh glistening on the inner side. The colossal monstrosity was posed with welcoming outstretched arms, fixed to the ceiling with tendons and sinew. Naykos looked in shock at the appalling perversion. Taken aback, he retreated a step and hit something. It was Clements, standing still, his gaze unmoving from the inviting abomination.
»Isn't it beautiful? Isn't it perfection itself? It is our beloved Primarch in all of his glory. I retrieved the bodies of my fallen brothers, and used all of them to build this. It is quite poetic, no? We strive to make him proud all of our lives, and they are now the very part of him. I'm actually jealous at times. In my darkest moments, I hear him speak to me, raising my spirits and telling me to never waver, never give up. «
A razor sharp silence followed, as the sergeant gathered his thoughts, still taking in the grim obscenity. The Chaos sculptor observed him for a while, then turned and walked to the nightmarish Phoenician and placed his palm on the idol's chest.
»I wouldn't have survived this long without His enlightenment. Insanity would have devoured any man on this rock without a beacon of light to guide him. «
Naykos finally regained his equilibrium and addressed the pink marine.
»I must admit, my hate for you partly got exchanged for pity. As mentally distorted as you followers of Slaanesh are, this must have been no less than torture. I doubt even you gain any pleasure from this form. «
»Pity? You called me many things, but this is the first one that stung. Do not think yourself above me, pet of Dorn. My seclusion made me grow made me the best version of myself. Were I given a choice, I would repeat all of it. «
»I didn't really mean it as an insult, I just…«
The sentence ended abruptly, replaced by muted explosions. At first they came from the right-side of their shelter, but were soon followed by the other direction.
The noise marine suddenly seemed nervous, listening to the distorted detonations.
»Those are sonic mines of my design. I've placed them in all of the closest tunnels. They are rigged to go off for bigger threats that I couldn't clear face to face. They are getting closer, which means that the horde in most of its numbers is looking for us. Each of those blows is capable of eliminating up to twenty of them. It only destroys organic matter, so the path will not be demolished. On the other hand, they will soon be on our doorsteps. So we aren't leaving any time soon. Both of us with my entire stockpile can't take all of them out.
»So now what? «
»Well. If you still feel like it, we can finally try to kill each other, but they will probably hear the fight, and I don't think I want to be the winner in that case.«
»Or? «
»Or we stay here and lay low. See how things go and with luck wait them out. «
»I see. «
The Imperial Fist hesitated a moment, then walked to the least horror inducing corner and sat down.
»Good choice. « He headed to the cadaver bed and lied down. Reaching for his helmet, he removed it, placed it on his chest and ran his fingers through its mane.
They both rested in silence, listening to the Orks who got all the way to the entrance, both sides meeting right in front of it. Some of their chatter could be understood by the two hidden Astartes. There was nothing they could do about them. Hours passed with Clements on his back, looking at the ceiling, contemplating the new revelations and course of events. Naykos moved to different points of the tank, giving a closer look to some of the details. He could barely look at the decorative Primarch, but he kept returning his attention to the helmet shrine. The more he examined the display, the more he felt sympathy for the unlikely associate. The etched words showed a side he wouldn't expect from a Chaos acolyte. He looked at him, resting on a heap of oozing death with eyes open wide.
»May I ask you something? «
The man in the pink armour seemed confused by the question, then turned his head and answered.
»Can't see why not. «
»If you really are as old as you say, if you really lived in that time, fought those battles. That means you met others of my chapter. I want to know what my brothers were like back then. «
The green haired head faced the ceiling again, smirk on his mouth.
»I met them alright. I fought with them, and I fought them. They were very honourable. Very dedicated. Followed every order down to the smallest detail. Efficient warriors both in combat and fortifications. Not many I've known surpassed their sense of strategy. They would make you proud, and from what I learned so far, probably you them. It was hard for your squad to leave you, which was obvious. But more importantly, would you believe me if I told you that I have seen your Primarch? «
»You did not. « His helmeted head darted in disbelief.
»I did. He visited lord Fulgrim on several occasions. On one of them, I was present. It was a beautiful day. We prepared the main hall for the reception. I can see it clearly as we speak. It was glorious. The gold pillars were freshly shined, giant purple banners strewn between them. Our majestic winged claw making it clear to any newcomer that this was the domain of the Emperor's Children. Below the legion standards, several smaller orchestras played incredible mesmerising melodies in flawless unison. In the middle, a vast line of tables clothed with velvet, topped with golden platters and goblets. Our finest drinks and food had been prepared for the occasion. We didn't hold back. We were a proud legion and we made that visible. The Phoenix guard formed a line from the entrance to the feast. We were seated close to two oversized thrones of pure gold. Fulgrim wore his ornamented purple armour. A scarlet cape was falling from his back like a bloody waterfall, white fur decorating the shoulders. He stood up and the music went nearly silent. The line of warriors banged their halberds, signalling the arrival of your leader, followed by thirty of his closest warriors. He followed the path to our dear Primarch who was waiting for him at the table. That is when we saw him. I must admit, it was a sublime view. The armour that kept him safe was incredible. Regal gold, shining like a statue that fit directly in our midst, a masterpiece on its own. On his hip, the largest chainsword that I have ever seen. Red casing with more gold decorations and little details, his hand resting on the pommel. Around his gorget, a cape similar to Fulgrims, minus the fur. They met and shook hands like two siblings long separated. Rogal Dorn was lower in stature but equal in eminence. Both white haired Primarchs sat down and sank in their discussion, joyfully feasting in the meanwhile. I wasn't close enough to hear them over the busy murmur of the hall or the tear summoning music, but I'll never forget the two demigods. I can practically smell and taste the ambiance. «
Silence once more claimed victory, followed by the red helmeted voice.
»Thank you for that. I do appreciate it and I wish I was there. «
»No. Thank you, for making me remember. «
Rolling away on his improvised bedding of murdered xenos, he turned his back to the yellow armoured listener. Over his shoulder, he mumbled.
»Let me have a few hours of sleep now. The roaming imbeciles outside should disperse soon enough, we can plan our next move then. «
»Agreed. I wish I'd know when the storm outside will lose its fangs though. «
There was no reply as the disciple of Chaos was already in another dimension.
At first, Naykos considered also recharging his strength, but then something caught his attention. On the work bench, there was a mildly glowing screen of a refurbished computer. Instantly a thought birthed in his mind. Could he use that to communicate with his ranks? He didn't want to risk a conflict in this closed environment with additional threat lurking on the other side of a metal door, so he waited for an hour, until he was sure that only he was awake. Standing up, he carefully started walking to the possible salvation and reached for the keyboard. Pressing different key combinations with hope of bypassing the security, he kept the corner of his eye on the snoring noise marine. After several attempts, the access to the main functions was granted. His reflective face made of red metal was caressed by the gentle greenish light of the screen. Through trial and error, communications finally became available to him. He managed to get a message to the fleet that was waiting above for the storm to die down enough and allow a somewhat safe descent of a transport. A part of him wasn't convinced that they are even still there, knowing that a depressing option of being abandoned like the other marine is realistic. He waited, praying to the Emperor that somebody got his message. Then, silent white noise came out of the speakers. It was mixed with unconnected words.
»….sergeant! Is that…. ….. …. Waiting …. … soon possible descent… …
…evac at tunnel…. …. Flatland…. «
Not much to go by, but enough for Naykos to understand the meaning. Determined by the fresh hope, he tried to turn off the computer and accidentally triggered an alarm. The sound was similar to a miniature digital fog horn that violently woke up the sleeping heretic as well as caught the attention of the Orks outside. Clements needed a second to fully get the grasp of the increasingly dangerous situation, then stood up and smashed the screaming machine. He looked at the Fist with furious anxiety behind his eyes.
»What have you done? «
»I just tried to contact my people; I didn't know this was going to happen! «
The enemies outside started banging on the door, hitting it with their weapons and fists. They managed to lodge a semi blunt blade between the ramp and the frame and started prying it open. Another blade joined the first one and it was only a matter of time before they breached the defence. Loud metal screeching and hissing accompanied the last breath of the defeated barrier that smashed to the ground with a loud thud. Three Orks walked inside, first two carrying blades in both of their arms, while the third one stayed behind them, groping a makeshift grenade launcher. He launched a shot inside, and it hit the hideous effigy, blowing it to pieces of flesh and metal scraps. A beastly howl followed, coming from Clements. It was a heart-breaking scream of a wounded animal. The three greenskins started laughing and stayed at the entrance. The warrior of Dorn took a defensive pose, grabbing a power sword that tipped over from the weapon cache after the explosion, and stepped in front of the attackers. Behind him, the marine in pink kneeled down to his fallen art, grasping a piece of armour plating and bringing it to his lips for a farewell kiss. Unable to hold back tears, he stood back up and faced the defilers with murderous intent. He marched towards them and pushed Naykos out of his way, making him crash into the corpse mattress. Almost as choreographed, he yanked his helmet from the floor and sent it flying with full force to the face of the nearest greenskin. Dropping his hand to the holstered plasma pistol, he equipped it and sent several shots to the stunned xeno's belly. The blasts scorched both leathery skin and thin armour a like. With one hand, the Chaos marine undone a grenade, shoved it inside of the damaged Ork and kicked him out of the Mastodon, where he exploded in a shower of gore and blood. Next one to feel the full extent of his wraith swung his weapons at him, but hit nothing as the target dodged the attacks with ease. Dancing around the wailing menace, Clements seized a window to counter attack and struck the soon to be dead greenskin with his demonic arm. He slid the tentacles into the unexpecting Ork's skull through his eye sockets and nostrils, wrapping the tendrils around the brain while lifting him off his feet. The defenceless levitated body spasmed unnaturally as his cerebrum got crushed while still inside of him. The now lifeless corpse collapsed on the floor as the ferocious marine retracted his limb and slowly approached the remaining enemy, the desecrator of his altar. The lone victim looked at his two dead compatriots and tried to reload his clunky weapon. He wasn't fast enough as his killer dashed towards him, yanking the grenade launcher out of the rough green hands. Angered, the defiler started swinging his meaty fists, trying to pummel the human. The devotee of Slaanesh gracefully evaded every attack, coming closer a step after each dodge. Finally face to face, standing directly in front of the enraged Ork, he blasted his knees with the plasma firearm. The fallen brute let out a violent growl as Clements thrust his hand in the yelling mouth. Sinking it inside, all the way to the shoulder armour, he grabbed a fistful of organs and pulled it outside. The stinking bowels fell down with a moist splat as the victor walked away. Yet the fight wasn't over. The bewildered beast tried to return his insides to their rightful place, bleeding profusely from his maw while doing so. Annoyed, the Chaos marine retrieved his stashed chainsword and went to finish off the defeated lout. Rising the jagged, rumbling blade with both of his hands above his head, he dropped it down and split the xeno open from the top of his cranium to the groin, ending its life. He left the chainsword lodged in the now deceased pile of meat, and returned to the destroyed shrine.
»I truly am sorry; I didn't know this would happen. « Naykos apologized, knowing the importance of the event that just transpired. His one-sided opinion about the Emperor's Child not being completely the same as when they initially met.
In response, a heavy ceramite fist hit his jaw, making him tumble back on the pile of rot. The rage was replaced by mellow remorse, as the Ork slayer kneeled down to the remains of his Primarch, bowing his head to honour his fallen brothers for the final time. The broken man seemed as frozen in time, as he barely audibly whispered to himself.
»Forgive me, brothers for failing you for the last time. Forgive me, dearest Primarch for not being worthy of our legion's name. «
While he took his time to honour the lost shrine, gripping the human faced helmet that represented Fulgrim, a number of Orks kept invading the scene one by one. A bolt pistol in one hand and a power sword in the other, Naykos kept repelling them, the hallway being buried by the expanding death toll. The bright side of the unpleasant scenario was that the majority of them disappeared further away, minimizing the threat that they posed. After several decapitated, shot and perished xenos, their numbers seized coming. The armour of the Imperial Fist now mixed their yellow paint with splashes of Ork blood. His weapons still at the ready, he did not back down and stood panting in the tanks doorway. He felt that he owed his should-be enemy at least that. When the battle was over, the kneeling warrior of Slaanesh opened his eyes.
»Is it over? «
The bloodied sergeant stepped in the pathway and checked it for survivors.
»I think so, yes. For now. «
»Good. «
A brief moment of awkward silence passed between them.
»Listen…«
»No. Don't. What happened, happened. «
The pink marine finally rose, but remained facing the scattered remains. With a calm voice, he asked the loyalist.
»Did it work? «
»It did, yes. I got a reply. Hard to understand, but I know the instructions. «
»Go on. «
»I am to meet my pickup crew outside of the tunnel where you've found me. The storm is finally declining and I am to call for them when possible. «
»Then let's move. I want you away from here, before I decide to listen to the instinct of butchering you. Take any weapon you want and as much ammo as you can carry. «
»Why are you helping me? «
»I'm not. I'm getting rid of you. «
He holstered his plasma pistol, belted the chainsword and restocked grenades on his belt. Grabbing a melta gun, he turned and left the Mastodon, not bothered by waiting for the amber coloured space marine. The scarlet helmeted Fist chose his trusty bolt pistol, the power sword and a shoulder strapped bolter with an ammo drum. Fitting as much ammunition as he could in his pouches, he looked once more around the forgotten tank and hurried after the Chaos marine.
…
The journey was longer than expected. The hideout was lower than Naykos thought and the tunnels were a convoluted mess that he would not find a way out off. At least not on his own, not on time. Several past battles as well as recent ones obstructed the ways with damage and lead them on a number of detours. Both smaller and bigger fights caused additional delays, but long hours later, a familiar pile of boulders near a seemingly endless pit eventually gave the son of Dorn the first palpable sense of hope. Both battered and bruised, they walked towards the exit. In front of the hole that sent them down, Clements found his trusty sonic blaster. A sight for sore eyes, he dropped the melta gun and picked up his favourite weapon. His visibly lighter demeanour was short-lived, as a brutal, deep growl erupted from the hole they passed. Following it, Orks started climbing out of it, filling the cavern. Yet they did not attack. They waited, snarling and drooling, ready to massacre the two marines. Then a giant metal claw gripped the edge of the ditch, lifting up a monstrous behemoth. An Ork Warboss climbed out, barely fitting the hallway. His bottom jaw was completely replaced by a metal substitute, cold fangs covered by rust and grime. The beasts armour was heavy and thick, covering his torso in full. His right arm was a set of giant metal talons, big enough to envelop either of the Imperium born. His other arm held a chain whip made of a decommissioned Rhino tank tracks. As the ultimate insult, he wore an Emperor's Children helmet as a cod piece. He pointed his artificial claw at his opponents and screamed.
»Bring me their heads! «
Ten Orks darted towards them without hesitation. They barely made any progress when they got evaporated in an instant. Clements fired a burst of noise out of his weapon that had no problem taking care of the first group of attackers.
»More! « He shouted at the greenskins, ready to thin their numbers, turning them to red mist.
The agitated Warboss smashed his whip in the walls.
»WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH! «
The rest of the bloodthirsty creatures rushed to bring the prize to their leader. Guttural squeals, mixed with pulsating lethal music filled the narrow battlefield of stone. As effective as the sonic weapon was, it could only disintegrate a limited amount of bodies. Naykos joined the counter attack, unleashing the rest of his bolter ammo on the alien menace. In the same moment he ran out of shells, he dropped the rifle and grabbed his pistol, continuing with precise, effective shots that defaced the rushing greenskins. Some of them still reached the firing pair and the quickest way to take care of them was snatching the Chaos marine's chainsword that ended their filthy lives. With all the effort, they were still overrun, both of them now going for their melee weapons. The teeth of the chainsword ruthlessly rumbled as they torn flesh from the bodies, aggressive swings sewing death with every hit. At the same time, Naykos masterfully used the power sword to remove limbs and open fatal wounds. The sharp blade cleaved cleanly through the flesh and armour alike. His movements were fluid, precise and controlled, opposed to the Emperor's Child swinging his cutter with blind intent to either kill or maim. They fought hard, back to back, repelling the attackers with the closed quarter combat working in their favour. The sounds of battle were cut by Clements laughing, seeming to have the time of his life.
»ENOUGH! « The Ork strike ended in the instant the Warboss demanded.
»Imma take care ov em myself. Ya had 'nuff. I'll wear ya hids on mah neez, oomiez! «
The regular greenskins squeezed to the stone walls as the giant leader stepped past them with heavy steps that made dust slide from the surfaces. Both marines were covered with blood and shredded tissue, adjusting their grip on the swords hilts, preparing for what's to come. The chain whip clanked as it was dragged behind the challenger, the sharp claw dragging deep lines in the stone. Both armoured humans lifted their sidearms next to each other and unloaded them at the approaching threat. Flashes of green plasma blasts and the bolter pistol made the impression of a horrific slideshow as the spine chilling fiend continued, barely flinching at the shots hitting his body and protection that only caused slight dents and scratches. The slow pace turned to a terrifying run, charging his pink and yellow prey. As he got in range, he swung the whip towards them, both barely dodging the big chain link. They tried a few more shots at the expected weak points with near to no result, so they swapped back to the reliable melee weapons. Now face to face, two on one, the real battle started. First move came from the Ork giant, whipping several strikes, the last one almost hitting the red sergeant helmet that could tear it off with the head still inside. A combination of a whip swing combined with a clawed attack followed, the chainsword clashing against the sharp talons, redirecting the attack, while the power sword made an attempt to remove the linked weapon from the fight.
Shoulder to shoulder, forced to fight as one, the two space marines deflected, dodged and counter attacked, knowing well that a single false move could end the fight with the loss of their lives. Seizing every chance they got to dish several cuts at the exposed skin, they slowly worked their strategy to overwhelm the towering beast. Suddenly, an opportunity presented itself, as Naykos managed to momentarily stop the whip charges by stepping on a missed attack with all of his weight.
»NOW! « He yelled at the Chaos marine, who reacted instantly and swung the chainsword at the wrist that held the long rattling weapon. The rotating teeth bit in the meat layer by layer until they successfully created a bloodied stump where there was recently a full hand. The Warboss roared and groped the fresh amputation. Impulsively, the defender of Imperium swung toward the soft neck under the metal jaw. The xeno brute saw the blade coming and moved out of harm, responding with a move of his own. His lethal claw almost shredded the marine to pieces, when Clements shoulder pushed him out of harm's way. A metal talon still hit true, as it pierced the noise marine from the waist, exiting his body near his neck. With no time for regret, the Imperial Fist made another attempt, this time slashing open the Warbosses neck. He grabbed the pink acolyte's plasma pistol, ran into his target and climbed to the fresh laceration. Stabbing his power sword under the collar bone for a better grip, he jammed the firearm into the open wound and started blasting until the weapon overheated. The smouldering shots dissolved the insides of the colossal Ork who stumbled back, crashing with a loud thud. He clawed in desperation at his injuries, but they ended his existence almost instantly after the fall. The defeated hulk stared lifelessly in the distance, the rest of the Orks confused by the turn of events. Facing the remaining forces, Naykos retreated backwards toward the wounded heretic. He grabbed him under his arm and moved towards the exit, not letting their eyes from the green skinned group. Only after they completely lost the sight of them, they turned and left the tunnel system. The daylight shone on them for the first time since the Imperial Fists attack, a welcoming sight even with the now mild sandstorm still wrapping them in warm grains.
»Signal them. «
»What? «
»Signal your chapter that you made it. « Clements was limping, using the chainsword as a crutch.
»You won't survive this. You must realize that even with what has happened, you are still a heretic in the eyes of the Imperium and as such, they will kill you on sight, as I would have when we met.«
»No. They won't. You will. «
»What do you mean? «
»We both know I'm not surviving this. The fact I'm still walking somehow is a minor miracle, probably another perk of being a horrible heretic. Maybe my wound will be what ends me, maybe the Orks will rush out of the cavern after they finally decide who the new leader is. If not, there is no chance I'm living through the encounter with your saviours. And let's not lie to each other, you cannot let me leave, the Inquisition will relentless, knowing you encountered an agent of Chaos, walking away without a corpse. I lived far longer than even I thought, I felt every pleasure imaginable. All but one. The last one. The one you will grant me. You wanted to kill me for the majority of your time here. And now you will. «
With that, he unsheathed his serrated dagger, placed the tip to his throat, the hilt facing Naykos.
»Do it.«
The sergeant put his hands on the leathery handle. He knew the words spoken were true, all of them. Ironically, his threats were about to come true. Their eyes met through the blue and green lenses as he pushed the blade through the Chaos marine's throat. Blood started pouring from the pierced skin, a wet gurgle in place of any final words. Clements dropped to his knees, dagger still lodged in his neck, red blood drops falling from the pommel. There was a wide grin hidden under the helmet, thanking Naykos for the ultimate gift. He collapsed lifeless on the warm sand, blood soaking his surroundings.
…
The Imperial Fist was silently standing over the corpse of a pink armoured Astartes when a single yellow Thunderhawk marked by a black hand emblem descended from the sky towards Naykos. After it landed, a squad of marines came for him. He didn't move his gaze from the body as his soldiers approached him. One of them placed his hand on the silent sergeants shoulder guard and asked him who the corpse was. He took a few moments to reply, and then answered.
»Just a heretic, waiting to be freed from his burden of life. «
His colleague nodded in approval and turned towards the aerial transport.
»We need to go, sir.«
»Give me a second, I'll join you momentarily. «
The squad returned to the transport and waited. As they walked away, the red helmeted marine stood still, eyes unmoving from the slain companion. He whispered to himself.
»May the Emperor forgive you. «
Finally, he turned to his waiting mates and headed towards them. Few steps way, he gave Clements one final look and added.
»Brother. «
His ship's engines blew away sand, as it took off and ascended to their home ship, ending the nightmare.
Back on the planet, the remains of the pink noise marine were slowly getting covered by the grainy blanket, the land claiming him forever.
