Bolter rounds were flying past Sergeant Hart's head as he ducked behind a pile of rubble that had collapsed in a city block. His platoon had taken fire from a 1 story building in a town square and had lost their lieutenant and several troopers in the firefight. He had taken command for the time being, but was struggling to gain an advantage. He looked to his left to see a trooper from 2nd squad firing his lasrifle at the building, firing in bursts. He was about to change his magazine when an enemy las-round hit him in the chest, killing him instantly. As his corpse fell on his back a medic checked his vital signs, pulling his fingers over the deceased eyelids after confirming his death.
Hart spat a curse and turned to give an order to the trooper next to him when suddenly he heard whistling in the air. He looked up to see smoke trails coming towards their positions. "Incoming, get to cover!!" He yelled as he got up from the ground. The platoon hastily got up from their defenses in the middle of the square and headed towards the buildings at the other side of the square. Light artillery shells were dropping all around the 44 man platoon, taking the lives of three men in front of Hart. Two troopers were also consumed by fire as two shells landed in front of and to their left. Hart was launched off his feet by an explosion from behind him that managed to take out a trooper holding a grenade launcher and sent onto his stomach. He quickly grabbed his helmet and held it tight onto his head. As the artillery ceased the platoon kept falling back. Suddenly three bolt pistol rounds were fired into the air, causing everyone to freeze. The dizzy sergeant was helped to his feet by a young man in his early twenties with a red and black uniform and peaked cap with a trenchcoat unbuttoned and being used as a cape. In his hands were a buzzing power sword and a smoking bolt pistol.
"Need a hand Sergeant?" the man said with a smirk on his face.
Hart just looked at him, wondering what he would do. He recognized the young man as a commissar, and that their job was to dispose of cowards. And since he has been caught running from the fight he felt like a deer in headlights.
The commissar saw his expression and smiled. "Commissar Kevin McCullin, at your service." He said. Squad leaders gathered up survivors. The platoon of originally 44 men was down to 26. Kevin looked at the enemy held building and frowned hatefully.
He turned to the sergeant. "I want mortars and grenade launchers on that building for cover fire." He said as he pointed at the building. "While their pinned we run towards the obstacles around the building and use them as cover. Provide a base of fire with auto cannons and heavy bolters. Keep them suppressed at all times." A vox-trooper beside him had already begun to give coordinates to the company mortar platoon. Hart rounded up the platoon and set up by the commissar. McCullin raised his power sword, it flickering into life in his hands. He yelled the most common phrase used in the Imperium.
"For the Emperor!!!"
The platoon chorused behind him, although they were drowned out by the mortar rounds that began pounding the building in front of them. They went in a sprint towards the defenses, firing of las-rounds as they went. They quickly slumped behind the barriers, just as the artillery died down. Heavy weapons teams quickly set up their large guns and unleashed a hail of heavy caliber explosive rounds into the enemy building. Hart could see cultists and marines being forced to take cover from the barrage of fire. Those who stood their ground or didn't make it to the ground in time were ripped apart.
The Commissar took cover behind a pile of scrap that used to be a table, a couch and various other pieces of furniture. The enemy rounds began to hail down on the guardsmen. The commissar braced himself as rounds began to pelt the barricade. Several guardsmen beside him, including hart, were gripping their helmets firmly against their heads. The commissar looked above the barricade in time to see another salvo of artillery shells batter the building. Inside the building four cultists were killed by the high explosive shells and several more were wounded. The Marines inside seemed to ignore them as their armour deflected the blasts.
The smoke began to build up at the building and McCullin wasn't going to let the smokescreen go to waste. He jumped to his feet and pointed his power sword towards the enemy. "Charge, for the Emperor, men of Cadia!!" The guardsmen instantly got up and readied themselves. Bayonets were being fixed on lasguns and magazines were being changed. The commissar fired two bolt rounds at the building and then charged, guardsmen keeping pace with him. The smoke cleared and the chaos forces were getting to their feet when a power sword wielding commissar accompanied by a platoon of angry guardsmen tore down the doors of the small building.
Hart drew his chainsword and swung at a knife wielding traitor. The teeth of his chainsword bit through the cultist's fatigues with ease. As he pulled his chainsword out of the corpse another traitor took a swing at him with the butt of his autogun, Hart barely dodging it. The traitor took one more swing at Hart, knocking him to the ground. The traitor was about to fire when his head exploded. Hart looked behind the fallen body and saw McCullin with a smoking bolt pistol in his hand. The commissar was overcast by the shadow of a hulking figure to his left. He turned to see a fallen space marine in dark red power armour. It had silver trim around its shoulder pads, with a dirty and slightly rusted bolter in one hand and an old, hulking Power fist on the other. On its chest armour was a symbol resembling an eight pointed star and a demonic face on its right shoulder. There was a Captain's symbol on its helmet. It had a raven guard space marine helmet on a spike on its defiled backpack, a clear sign of its hatred for the Imperium's finest.
It knocked a stool out of its way as he stomped forward. "I will destroy you, Imperial!" it bellowed out from its vox-grille. McCullin charged his power sword, readying to attack. As it trundled forward, a guardsman charged it, bayonet at the ready. The marine shrugged off his attacks and smacked him out of the way. The commissar lunged at it and hit it with an uppercut from his sword. The marine lost balance and fell back a few steps, enough time for the commissar to stab it in the chest, piercing its heart. The marine fell to the ground with a thud. As McCullin pulled his sword out of it chest it let out a breath and the lights in its eyes flickered and died.
The commissar looked around the bloodstained ruin. There was a dusty bench with taps and dirty glasses littering it. On the wall behind it was a blackboard with drink names and prices on it. The tables were either pelted with bullet holes or had legs torn off and the chairs were old and splintered. Kevin assumed that this used to be a bar. He sighed and helped Sergeant Hart to his feet. "Get your men back to the rest of your company and move on to the next obstacle. The 46th Armoured was moving up to assist earlier so you'll most likely get tank support."
Hart looked at him, puzzled. "But sir, the battle is over. The heretics will be on their toes now."
It was now McCullin's turn to be puzzled. "What are you talking about sergeant?"
The Sergeant began to smirk. "Commissar, it was our job to get the 46th behind enemy lines. The rest of our regiment stayed behind to keep the gap in the line open, and since the tanks have made it through the enemy should be on their feet right now. Vendetta squadrons got their armour before we got here in force. Our job is done sir; the traitors will either turn tail or be crushed by our armors treads."
Kevin began to realize what happened when a basilisk Self-propelled gun drove into position and set up its gun. Moments later the thunder of volleys of earth shaker artillery cannons was all that anyone heard. The vox-op began to code a new message near the two. He turned to Commissar McCullin and Hart. "Sir, command says to look to the hills." The platoon shifted their gaze to the hills outside the city. Traitor marines and cultists were rushing up the hills, a few cultists being cut down by over flying thunderbolt fighters. Kevin smiled as the chaos forces fled. "We're on our way to liberation, Sergeant." Hart nodded in agreement.
As the chaos army fled a person looked on at the Imperial army. The power armoured figure growled and looked around at the positions of the guardsmen, Kasrkins cutting down fleeing marines with their hot-shot armour piercing lasguns, battle tanks lobbing shells at what little armour they had left, and rank and file guardsmen lighting smokes or gathering supplies from local stores. His eye turned to a sight that surprised him.
He zoomed in on a Commissar and a group of guardsmen lifting a marine out of a building and throwing him on a pile of rubble. The figure gritted his teeth at the sight of this dead marine. "How could that imbecile leave his headquarters undefended to let an army of guard take him?" he thought to himself. He turned his gaze to the commissar cleaning the blood off his power sword. A chaos marine came up behind him and bowed. "My lord, we've received word that Balthazar has been slain." It said.
"I know." Replied a deep, intimidating voice. He turned to the marine. "Mount up your men and get ready to move out of here. We are no longer needed as one of the Despoiler's pawns."
"But what about the city?" asked the marine.
"It is no longer our concern. I have something special planned for the Imperium's lapdogs." He smirked, his devious mind constructing his scheme.
The marine nodded and began to leave. "Yes Dark Apostle, your will be done."
Before leaving himself, he took one more look at the Commissar, getting a vid-pic of him. "Mark my words commissar, I shall deal with you soon enough." He chuckled evilly, a devilish smirk forming on his corrupted lips.
Okay, so good chapter, bad chapter? Tell me your thoughts so I can do some tweakage. The dark apostle's voice is supposed to be like Eliphas the Inheritor's off of Dawn of War Dark Crusade.