THE NIGHT FURIES
Road Rage
"Talon 3 reporting in, sweep completed. No suspicious activity."
"Talon 4 reporting in, minor activity, nothing serious."
Dorin sat in the cockpit of his Sentinel, listening to the vox as his squadron sounded off. It was late, and Talon Squadron had been on duty for the past eight hours. He yawned, rubbing his eyes. Things had been quiet lately. Routine scouting runs between Capital Spire and Spire Legis were his day to day business. He had lost count of how many times they'd done this run.
Ever since the Black Legion invasion, Spire Legis had become a hotspot for cultist activity. While the initial push by the Vendoland regiments had temporarily brought it back under control, things soon fell apart once again. Nowadays, attacks on Legis were more of a containment effort, to keep them from spilling over into the other regions before the Guard could muster enough troops to stamp them out permanently.
"Talon 6 reporting in, sweep finished. No new activity."
Dorin spoke. "Roger that, all Talons fall in, we're heading home." He fired up with Sentinels engine, and the large spotlamp cast a bright light immediately ahead of him. Turning around, Dorin pushed the Sentinel into a steady jog along the raised boulevard. Between the towering hive spires, the cityscape of Meridian was much flatter. A person could view the steady incline of raised buildings the closer to the center they got, but for the most part, things were low to the ground.
It was convenient for sure. When they weren't dealing with the Vandis heretics, Guardsmen on Meridian had to deal with the constant threat of Ork looters, as well as the occasional Eldar scouting party. The elevated roadways and flat ground gave them the chance to spot ambushes before they happened. It never hurt to be too careful.
Dorin caught sight of another Talon's spotlamp, and he moved to join him. Other lights across the landscape homed in as well. Before long, all six Sentinels had regrouped. The sky was completely dark now. With all vital electricity going to the main spires, the streetlamps were dead, and they had to rely on their own lights for guidance. Moving at a quick pace along the highway, the glowing lights reaching into the clouds marked Capital Spire's location in the distance.
The squadron was making good time. Dorin was looking forward to a nice shot of amnesac, a couple rounds of Regicide, and a long, warm bath. After eight hours inside a cramped cockpit with barely enough room to scratch himself, small comforts felt like the blessing of the Emperor himself.
"Talon 1, this is Talon 5. I have movement on my scanner." Dorin was snapped out of his thoughts, immediately alert.
"Talon 5, identify them. What is it?" he ordered. It could be an Ork party, and that was the last thing he wanted to deal with at night.
"Looks like... fifteen signatures. They're civilian vehicles sir: One hauler, five half tracks, and nine personal transports."
Dorin frowned. "They're out after curfew. Talon Squadron, fan out across the highway and power up your spotlamps. We'll halt them for questioning."
"Roger that sir." responded the drivers. The bipedal walkers spread out to cover the lanes. Lighting up their spotlamps, the highway was illuminated for a good 300 yards. The incoming group of vehicles slowed down and stopped before the squadron. The Talons trained their multilasers on the bigger vehicles. Dorin unlocked his top hatch, and clambered out, laspistol in hand. His vox speaker amplified his voice.
"Attention, Imperial citizens. You are in violation of curfew. Exit your vehicles and identify yourselves for questioning. Failure to comply will be met with deadly force."
There was no response from the convoy. No hatches opened, nobody stepped forward. Frustrated, Dorin continued. "This is your last warning, identify yourselves, or suffer the consequences of your actions."
Still no reply. Dorin dropped into his seat. "Talon 3, fire a warning shot across the hauler. Show them we mean business."
"Roger sir." The sentinel snapped off a multilaser shot, missing the hauler's cabin by inches. That ought to make them see reason, thought Dorin. The door to the hauler opened, and a person stepped out onto the truck's side platform. Dorin spoke into his vox again.
"Raise your hands and turn to face us. If you do not comply, you will be fired upon."
The man stepped into the light. He was nothing special. He wore a heavy coat that somehow still struggled to keep his fat contained. The man was silent. "Identify yourself," ordered Dorin.
The driver still said nothing. He just turned to his cab and nodded. Far ahead on the highway, there was a flash of light that temporarily backlit the convoy resting in front of the Sentinels. Then, the explosions started.
A missile slammed into the side of Talon 3, the blast knocking the walker off its feet and setting it alight. A second hit the ground in front of Talon 2, engulfing the Sentinel in the explosion. Several more missiles began falling all around the Sentinel squadron, who promptly began backpedalling out of the impact zone.
"Talon Squadron, return fire!" shouted Dorin, "Convoy is hostile, I repeat, convoy is hostile!"
The transport's headlights activated, and the vehicle began to accelerate forward. The hauler took up half the highway, while the rest of the civilian vehicles fell in behind the behemoth.
"Talons, turn tail! Get out of its path!" shouted Dorin. Desperately, he turned his Sentinel about and pushed it into a full run. The hauler was gaining on them. Talons 5 and 6 were too slow to start, and the hauler smashed into them like a freight train, running down the fragile walkers and smashing their cockpits under its heavy wheels. Only Dorin and Talon 4 remained, sprinting at a breakneck pace to outrun the hauler.
"Jump the divide, quick!" he shouted. The hauler was nipping at the Sentinel's heels. Their only chance would be to jump the divide between the separated highway, and get back to the Spire. It was a narrow chasm, but to fail meant dropping to certain death. Between falling three stories and being crushed under an industrial shipping vehicle, Dorin was weighing his options.
There was a bend coming up in the highway. This was their chance. The jump was a straight shot for them now. Dorin pushed his walker to its limits, the foot claws barely touching the ground before springing forward again. He looked behind him, and smiled. The Hauler would have to slow down to take the turn, and they'd get away. Dorin slammed the throttle forward as far as it would go. Reaching the corner, the two remaining Sentinels pushed off the ground, making their leap.
Dorin was aware of a number of things happening at once. He felt the sound of his heartbeat, the hum of the Sentinel's engine, and the sinking feeling in his chest when he realized that the Hauler wasn't stopping. The two sentinels were halfway across the chasm when the Hauler struck them from behind.
Talon 4 was clipped by the hauler, sending it tumbling below. Dorin's walker was hit like a bug on a windshield, pressed against the hauler's blunt fenders. The truck smashed into the road on the other side, skidding to a halt. Dorin was thrown forward from the fender, sliding into the rockrete barrier on the other side. The force of the crash threw him from his seat headfirst into the canopy. Something snapped in his body, and he couldn't feel anything below his neck. The tumbling wreck eventually came to a stop.
Smoke rose out of the crumpled Sentinel. Dorin couldn't move his body at all. His spine had severed, he was paralyzed. The adrenaline was wearing off, and he was slipping into shock. The last thing Dorin saw in his fading vision was the truck driver holding a gun, aimed at his head.