Sergeant Richard Quinn dreamt the same dream that had haunted him for the last month once again. The sudden jolt that sent his squad and himself reeling inside the Chimera, the immediate gunfire that greeted the first of his men to exit the vehicle, the terrible flashing images of the Ork faces that came with every shot from their stubby pistols, it all took its toll. Only three of his squad and himself had survived the attack, the jolt they had experienced had been the front of the Chimera exploding from a well placed Ork "rokkit" round. They had packed up the entirety of the ration packs from the Chimera and the bodies of the fallen; they had then wandered aimlessly into the wilderness. He had meant to lead them back to New Lettucin, but instead came across Pirpryt. The dark city had loomed ahead of them and they had entered with much caution, inside the city they were soon greeted by a rearguard made up of thirty men and accompanied by two Sentinel walkers. The Officer in charge of the rearguard had sent Quinn and his three men to the city centre to meet with the man in charge of the City's defense, a stout Lord General by the name of Quintos Sharpe. The man had explained that he simply did not have the resources to send Quinn and his men back to New Lettucin, and he could not contact them via vox network. It was apparent to Quinn that he would have to remain in the city and assist them instead of returning to New Lettucin, he had often wondered if he would be missed by his good friend Jonah Phelps or the grim Doc' Frastus who he spoke with so often, they would assume him dead.

Quinn was awoken by a kick against his boot. He looked up and saw the bearded face of Sergeant Hughes smiling back at him. The tent allowed the sun from outside to shine in, casting Hughes' shadow over where he lay.

"Mornin' sunshine" Hughes grinned.

"I was promised a lye in" Quinn joked as he sat up.

"Not today, Quinn" Hughes beckoned someone from outside forward, "Anyway you'll be happy to wake early this day"

A grim looking man walked into the tent, his tired eyes regarding Quinn closely and his short black hair filthy and unkempt, he recognised him immediately.

"Sergeant Vern?" Quinn's face twisted into a smile as he rose. "Fourth squad?"

"The very same, Sergeant Quinn" The two men embraced through a squeeze of the hand. "It would seem you're not quite as dead as the Commissar proclaimed"

Quinn laughed, "I'm afraid not, no"

Vern allowed a sincere smile.

"What are you doing here?" Quinn asked quickly.

"Could ask you the same thing" Vern retorted, "We came here to link up with the armoured division that had been travelling with our unit to New Lettucin. Instead we find this"

Quinn's face turned to one of regret as the memory came to him.

"I was here fighting alongside our armoured unit" He said sadly, "The Orks in this city, Vern, they're like nothing I've ever encountered. They're well disciplined, well armed. Their leader is not one of only combat prowess he is tactical, intelligent even. It employs the use of forcefields to protect its fire support assets and always seemed to be a step ahead of us and its array of vehicles and walkers is astounding"

"Hughes has informed me of the Ork Mek" Vern said, "You and I both fought on Priscina IV and we saw the likes of this beast there, what makes this one so different?"

Quinn shook his head. "You have to see it to understand"

"I imagine I will see it if we stick around here long enough" Vern grimaced, "We mean to return to New Lettucin, we had originally hoped to return with a host of tanks but it appears that will be less than likely"

Hughes shook his head.

"We need every tank we have here to hold this line"

"This line will fall tanks or not if this Mek has the force and the mind for tactics that you spoke of" Vern snorted, "It is better you all abandon this post and head back to New Lettucin with us, your tanks would be put to better use"

"Abandon our post!?" Hughes roared back at him, "We will not relent this city to the Orks after so many of our's have fallen here!"

"What good is adding another forty names to the fallen?" Vern said as respectfully as he could, "And I misspoke when I said your tanks, they are part of our armoured division"

"You mean to take them without our permission?" Hughes laughed in Vern's face; "The men out there would gut you in a second when they see you mean to take their armour"

"Then your men are treasonous bastards" Vern gritted his teeth, Herax and Urta behind him held their rifles tighter.

"Watch yourself sir" Hughes' face was right in Vern's now, his nostrils were flared in anger, "Those men have fought long and hard, they have bled for this city, and I'm not about to let some jumped up Sergeant take my tanks"

"Oh I'm the jumped up Sergeant? Coming from you that is rich"

"We had to make do with our situation!"

"And what a job you've made of it"

"Why you little bastard" Hughes looked for a moment as if he was to hit Vern.

Vern regarded Hughes with a cool glare and Quinn quickly stepped between them and sighed.

"Arguing like this will not solve anything my friends" Just as he was about to continue talking, one of his remaining squad members shoved through Herax and Urta.

"Sergeant Quinn!"

"Yes, Harold?" Quinn replied, he noticed the worried look on the Guardsman's face.

"The scouts, sir, they've reported a large Ork force making its way down here"

"How big?"

"Big" Harold said with a gulp.

Quinn looked at Hughes.

"Shit" Hughes said through gritted teeth, "Time to find out if we'll even have any tanks for you to steal by day's end" he gave Vern a look of contempt as he spoke and pushed past them both. "Quinn, get your men ready and be up at the sandbags in five minutes"

"Aye" Quinn said as he retrieved his stub pistol from next to where he had slept. The solid projectile weapon made him feel more comfortable already. "Vern, will your men help us?"

Vern thought for a moment. He was the head of fourth squad back at New Lettucin, if he stayed here and died as they all surely would against a force as large as Quinn had told of then they would be left without a leader and New Lettucin would be down another Chimera. Alternatively if he left now he would be without the tanks he had set out for and further still if they did manage to stave off this Ork wave then he might even be able to bring them all back with him.

"Vern?" Quinn repeated as he began to fasten his padding.

"Of course we will" Vern nodded. "Got our investments to protect haven't we?"

Quinn laughed at the joke and slapped Vern on the shoulder. "Better hop to then me boy, Hughes will be waiting.

"Not doing this for that would be leader Hughes" Vern thought as he left the tent, Herax and Urta hot on his heels.

Outside the men who had been crowding around were now fully mobilised. Many of them were preparing their gear and checking their weapons before running forward to the line of sandbags in-between the two battle tanks Vern had seen earlier, others were heading inside the ruined buildings and seeking what little cover they offered and setting up firing positions. Vern spotted Mikey, Dab and Lyra stood by their Chimera, they were also accompanied by Flair and Gaius who both sat on top of the vehicle. When he reached them they all looked to him suddenly and expectantly.

"We're to remain here and help fend off the Ork attackers" He announced, saying it out load made it seem all the more foolish. "We will stay by this Chimera and provide fire support to those ahead of us" He beckoned to the gun line that was reinforcing not twenty metres from them.

"I shan't be able to reach them with this, sir" Lyra held up her meltagun, "And besides the shots are wasted on infantry"

"Sergeant Quinn assures me its not all infantry" Vern grimaced; "Nevertheless you may man the heavy stubber on the Chimera" He then looked up at Flair and Gaius. "Gaius, you are to prioritise armoured targets and any Ork larger than a normal footslogger with that Mutli-Laser"

"Aye Sergeant" Gaius nodded.

"You know how to use a rifle boy?" Vern asked Flair.

"I do, sarge" Flair replied in a slightly insulted tone.

"You'll be in charge of the defense of this vehicle, the Orks must not be allowed to disable and/or take it for themselves. If they get past us, you head inside and close the hatch and you get this thing out of here" Vern then handed the young man a grenade, "If they get inside you will use this and destroy the driving area, trust me this will kill you a lot faster and a lot less painfully than the Orks will"

Flair held the grenade and gulped.

"You got all that?"

"Aye, Sarge" Flair said weakly.

The sounds of Orks could be heard echoing through the ravaged streets now, a terrifying symphony of curses and taunts that jutted at every guardsman's courage and honour. Accompanying this sound was the revs of mismatching engines and the heavy stomps of walkers.

Vern unholstered his sidearm and barked an order to his squad, which sent them running to their positions; his stomach full of dread, that is when Co-Rolan came wandering over to him.

"Sergeant Vern of fourth squad" Co-Rolan greeted him.

"Tech-Priest" He replied dryly, "I had half forgotten you were here"

"The machines spirits of these vehicles have been strained near to their limits" Co-Rolan clicked.

"Good for us its nearly and not to then isn't it" Vern said irritated.

"They are in need of the rites of re-armament" If the Tech-Priest had taken offence at his tone it did not show in his voice, yet no emotion ever did, "They are not ready for battle"

"They'll have to be, Tech-Priest and I would get myself to cover if I were you" Vern shuddered as a singular and much louder war cry was heard over the din of the rest, "Because its coming"

Phelps sat amongst a few members of his squad on the third floor of the building he had been assigned to, the rest of his twenty man strong squad were spread through out the other floors. Some of them were leftovers from fifth squad after their Sergeant did not return from a patrol, some were replacements sent fresh from command and now only Petyr was a veteran from the original squad. Barak is alive he told himself, but it had been several days and he had still not awoken, who knew if he ever would.

Petyr sat upon the windowsill of the room they had taken to. The slender building they were in was made up of six floors and was one of the last tall buildings that remained standing in the entire city.

None of the squad dared go on the top floor, not after what they had seen the Bombers do the night previous.

Dariel was leant against the wall next to Petyr and the two idly chatted here and there. Phelps could not hear what of from where he sat, but he betted Barak had been a topic at one stage. He had half a mind to go down to the company CP building and visit the plasma-gunner, but he stayed. First squad needed him.

He ran his hand through his grey hair and sighed audibly. He was exhausted. He had not slept the entire night and after he heard the reports of what had happened to seventh squad and he doubted he would the coming one. Sergeant Keeli was a kind and hardy woman, she had fought the odds and earned the respect of all those around her. She had proven that it was not only men who could lead in combat situations, he remembered in a past conflict in which an entire hive-city was experiencing an uprising from the lower class populace; she had valiantly commanded her unit as they occupied a district. She had kept the peace with little casualties on either side.

It all seemed so long ago, he remembered all the men who had fallen under his command. Karam had fallen four years earlier when he had first taken the mantle of Sergeant; he was the first who had fallen under his command. An Eldar maiden had taken the young lad's head clean off with a wispy blade that had barely seemed to be real. He had screamed his anger at her and fired off several shots to no avail, the Xenos bitch had cut down another two of his men before she was taken down by the rest of the squad, it was Barak who landed the killing shot with his shotgun he recalled.

"Gunnery Sergeant Phelps?" A voice called from the floor below.

"Here" He called back.

The voice did not sound out again, instead a set of footsteps was heard ascending the stairs and soon enough Barak appeared with a solemn smile on his face, his plasma gun slung over his shoulder and his gear cleaner than before.

Phelps could scarce believe it; he smiled back and walked towards Barak with his hand extended.

"Knew you'd pull out of it" Their hands embraced, Phelps felt the cold steel of the augment and suddenly realised why Barak was more solemn than usual.

"Thank you, Sir" He nodded and recoiled his automated arm, "It will get some taking use to"
Phelps nodded grimly. "You're lucky that's all you lost, crazy fool" Phelps smiled in an encouraging sort of way.

"Suppose" Barak replied before heading over to the wall and placing his plasma gun against it.

Phelps sat back down on the torn armchair they had found on the top floor of the building and sighed a breath of relief.

"Gunny" Petyr was holding up his vox piece when he spoke.

Phelps got up and jogged over to Petyr. He held the vox piece up to his mouth and spoke;

"Gunnery Sergeant Phelps here"

"Phelps" It was Commissar Yoren's voice that came back. "Report to the company CP double time, it's urgent,"

"Aye, sir" Phelps handed the vox piece back to Petyr. He then turned to Barak and Dariel. "You two, accompany me to the company CP" The two Guardsmen nodded and started picking up their weapons.

The three men made their way through the barren streets and towards the centre of the city. As they turned into the street that lead to the CP building, Phelps spotted Sergeant Nathaniel from third squad walking down the street ahead.

"Nathaniel!" Phelps called out.

The Sergeant turned and gave a curt smile. "Sergeant Phelps"

Phelps reached the younger Sergeant and shook his hand.

"Where you heading?"

"Commissar Yoren called all the Sergeants" Nathaniel explained, "Headed to the CP"

"That can't fare well" Phelps sighed.

The moment the four Guardsmen entered the front door of the slightly more intact CP building; the grim faces of Jonn and Remi greeted them.

"You're late" Remi growled, the plasma gun in his hand glowing ominously.

"It takes some of us longer to get here than others" Phelps retorted, "On account of some actually being out on watch instead of holed up inside with the warmth"

Remi laughed dismissively. "Go upstairs, Gunnery Sergeant, Commissar's waitin"

Phelps turned to Barak and Dariel and ordered them to remain with the two command squad members. After they acknowledged his command he and Nathaniel ascended the oak stairs. Upstairs he looked down the corridor towards where he knew the wounded were kept. He saw Doc' Frastus tending to a prone Guardsman, Cromwell was with him also and was holding the patient down as Frastus carried out his work. Nathaniel knocked sharply on the door ahead of them before opening it. The two entered.

Inside the dank room Phelps saw second squad's sergeant Grenn, Priest Haradal stood in front of the desk that Commissar Yoren was sat behind. Seemingly less than had been present the last time they had met here. Vern was off, Emperor only knew where, Co-Rolan with him, and Debra Keeli was lying with her skin melting down the hall if the tales members of fourth squad had been telling were half true.

"We all here?" The commissar growled the question, grim news in his mind.

"All that can be here I fear, Lord" Priest Haradal mumbled sadly, the old man's robe was dirtied and the book he held tattered.

"Right then, we can begin" Yoren stood up and held out a manuscript to Grenn, Grenn took the paper and began reading as Yoren spoke.

"Today we have received disturbing reports from passing air units that an Ork force matching the description of the one Sergeant Phelps here and his squad described sighting was seen moving this direction" Yoren let that sink in for a moment before continuing. "It seems the Ork bastards are finally making their move on us"

The gathered Sergeants each looked at each other with concerned glances.

"Although it was not all grim news; in the same conversation in which the air units reported this, they also informed me they could spare two specialist weapon teams from their own unit to assist us. This comes as a great relief as that fool Vern still has still not returned and we must assume he failed his mission and is lost to us"

Phelps exhaled awkwardly. He had not known the man well, but with his disappearance they were now down another six Guardsmen plus their tech-priest and more importantly a Chimera transport.

"His absence and the fate that has befallen Sergeant Keeli means we need to have some changes in the order of things" The commissar turned to Nathaniel "Sergeant Nathaniel, you will be taking in the remnants of seventh squad, which in truth is only four able bodies but nonetheless they are under your command now. You will also be moving from your position in the south east part of the city to cover the North now that, Sergeant Vern has left us."

Nathaniel nodded in acknowledgement.

"The remaining members of forth squad will be supporting first squad with you, Gunnery Sergeant Phelps. You will have to spread the men out and cover both your own quadrant and keep forth squad in check in their position, your vox caster and theirs will be notified"

"Aye, Sir" Phelps replied cursing in his head, he had to now look after little under forty men and hold two quadrants by himself.

"Commissar Yoren" Grenn said.

"Yes, Sergeant?" Yoren replied.

"If they are headed our direction, and they were last sighted to our east surely the extra men from forth would be better suited with second squad? We are likely to take the larger part of their force"

Yoren raised one of his grey eyebrows. "You think you are ready to handle that many men, Sergeant?"

"And you dare question the Commissar's orders?" Haradal tried to sound gruff as he scolded Grenn but fell short and sounded as feeble as ever.

"I am questioning no one's orders, least of all the Commissar's" Grenn replied apologetically. "I am merely making a suggestion and I assure you, Lord, I can keep the men in check"

Yoren pondered a moment. On the one hand Gunnery Sergeant Phelps was more experienced and could command the respect of the men easier than this younger man, Grenn, though Grenn's position did make the most sense for the Orks to attack and if it fell it would leave their eastern flank wide open. Then again, the same could be said for Phelps' position in the west of city, the Orks who had infiltrated through half a week prior were living proof that the Orks were beginning to use sneak tactics to un nerve them. Throne of terror what to do?

"You will have your fifteen extra men, Sergeant Grenn" Yoren decided, "Sergeant Phelps you will have one of the specialist teams supporting your position, and I will require you to spread out to the south of your position at the same time.

Phelps nodded again, he was glad to be rid of the burden of another fifteen men to watch over, but at the same time he wondered if they would have done him well. If his position was the target that the Ork vanguard force chose to assault first, he and his squad would be spread out and overwhelmed easily even with the support of the specialist team.

The Commissar dismissed them all and on his way out Phelps looked down the hall again, this time the two men were not blocking his view and he could see the heavily bandaged form of Debra Keeli, her eyes were open and staring back at him. He nodded and gave her a sympathetic smile. She closed her eyes.

Quinn paced quickly toward the bustling line of Guardsmen that was forming ahead of him. Harold, the last survivor of the men he had brought out with him on that damning patrol walked alongside him and pointed out where his newly formed squad was situated. The eight men of his were situated to the left of the line and were all prepping their weapons, all wielded lasguns except the burly Jeremiah who hefted his melta gun as if it were nothing.

Quinn himself carried a stub pistol in one hand and his chainsword in the other. He vaguely heard Hughes' voice roaring commands over the din that emanated from the rest of the men and he felt the ground tremble beneath his feet as their Hellhound rolled back away from the front line.

He reached his squad and got their attention.

"Alright lads" He spoke loudly, "I'm not gonna lie, but I think this is the Mek's final push"

The men, all-originating from different squads looked back with somber faces.

"But remember, this is the Mek who killed your leaders, your brothers. This is the Mek that forced us back all this way, this is the Mek who slaughtered the civilians in that shrine building without mercy. So I ask you men, will we run in the face of this push? No. No. We will make that Ork bastard bleed for every step he takes down this street!"

His proclamation earned a roar of approval from his men and the squad next to him who were without a sergeant.

"We will not bend for this beast that fancies itself intelligent" another oorah replied as he spoke, "We will force this push back and show this sorry excuse of a leader that we are still a force to be reckoned with!"

Before another cheer could sound, the battle tank next to them opened up with its heavy bolter sponsons. The heavy chunk-chunk-chunks caused the men to flinch and turn to see what it was firing at.

Down the street were the first wave of Orks, a mob of at least thirty Orks carrying an array of pistols and close combat weapons, they roared as they charged forward. Their pistols spat shots that landed not even close to the Guard positions and their axes swung wildly. The heavy bolter rounds tore into the front line of the charging mob sending Ork bodies and limbs flying. A huge mist of blood exploded off of every Ork that was hit and yet still they came.

Quinn grinned as he watched the Orks explode and die nowhere near their targets. The Orks roared in anger as they were denied.

The Guardsmen all along the line cheered.

Then behind the line of Orks who were being rapidly decimated, the first three vehicles were sighted, all were Ork transport vehicles, each unique and clunky in design. They screamed around the corner and began to rapidly zoom forward. The mass of Orks they were carrying could already be seeing frenzying in the back. On the front of each one was a large basic looking turret manned by another Ork, it was already spitting forth a salvo of shots at the Guard line. Two men along the line caught two of the shots and dropped back, nobody was cheering now. Every single one of them dropped into crouching positions and aimed their rifles, ready.

The battle tank to the right of the street fired its main cannon, the shot was deafening and hit the trukk on the left directly on the front causing it to explode, it disappeared into a black puff of smoke. One of the other trukks zoomed on and began to zig and zag through the crowd of dead and dying Orks.

Quinn watched as the smoke cleared and many of the Orks who had been in the back were getting up and preparing to continue charging.

"Ready weapons!" He yelled, "Hold the line!"

The Leman Russ on the right fired its front mounted lascannon, the bright blast hurt anyone's eyes who looked upon it and bore into the middle transport's left side. The bright explosion that followed sent the vehicle skidding and into a barrel roll, it rolled a good ten metres down the street. The Orks inside that had survived got out and were immediately gunned down by gunline, the men cheered and gloated.

The other battle tank fired once again at the remaining transport, his shot missed as the Trukk zagged from its arc of fire and the shot instead hit a building to the side of the first ruined trukk, the explosion struck the Orks who were still reeling from the crash, several died with a pathetic scream.

The remaining transport was almost on the gunline now, both of the battle tanks rotated their main guns towards it, but the vehicle was too fast.

The machine gun on front of the Ork transport fired wildly and inaccurately, yet it still managed to drop several more unfortunate Guardsmen towards the right of the line.

Quinn realised it was going to reach the line now and the deadly cargo it carried would soon be upon them. He remembered a situation much like this several weeks before where the entire line was felled by the arrival of a single Trukk's crash. They had been too busy dealing with the Orks within their own ranks to stop the transports that followed it.

It smashed right into the front of the sandbags, hitting both of the heavy bolter turrets, which killed the men manning them immediately. As for the men who were taking cover next to them, they quickly ran to avoid what followed, but already the Orks were firing their pistols and clambering over the sides of their clunky transport.

"Shit shit shit" Vern said through gritted teeth as he watched them begin firing and hacking into the Guardsmen up ahead. "Gaius! Give them support!"

The Multi-laser on the Chimera opened fire on the Trukk, and Lyra opened up with the heavy stubber.

Quinn fired his pistol into the Orks who were jumping over the sides of their transport, the shots took one of the monsters in the eye and caused it to fall down roaring in pain. The Guardsmen next to where the trukk had smashed its way through fired desperately into the stream of Orks that ran into them to little avail, the burly creatures hacked many of them apart as they still fired. The assaults that were ensuing were bloody and ferocious.

"Sergeant!" Jeremiah yelled, Quinn turned to see the man pointing down the street again. The remaining Orks from the crash were all dead now, but more Trukks were appearing from the corner and three two armed walkers teetered after them, each with an array of weapons.

"Support them!" Quinn pointed at the men currently battling with the Orks in their line, "The Russes will deal with the others"

From the other side of the Trukk he heard a louder roar than the other Orks were putting out. A headless Guardsman's body was flung over the side of the trukk and landed with a wet splat the other side.

Vern saw what had thrown the body. An Ork Nob, the Ork equivalent to Sergeants, they were larger and crueler in kind. The beast that had thrown the headless guardsman was wearing clunky sheets of metal over its skin and carried a large two faced axe, one side had a maw of sharp metallic teeth and the other was a jagged face of rusted steel. Its entire head was covered in a crude metallic helm that only had holes for its angry eyes to look through.

"Lyra!" Vern yelled over the din of fire.

"Sergeant?" She yelled back, half looking at him.

"Focus fire on the larger one!" Vern's voice was urgent as he watched the foul beast cut down another two men.

Lyra concentrated her shots on the larger Ork, her shots caused the beast to shudder and jolt with every hit. This gave the Guardsmen around to it enough time to counter attack.

Several men jabbed their rifles' bayonets at the Ork, aiming for in-between the metal armour pieces. As the bayonets met their mark time and time again, the large Ork fell roaring out in pain.

Quinn put another two shots into the closest Ork to him, the solid projectile rounds caused the Ork to jolt with each hit, its pistol fired as it swayed back and the shot hit one of his squad square in the chest.

Quinn did not look to confirm the man's fate, but rather charged headlong into the swaying Ork.

He swung his active chainblade in a killing arc, only to be blocked. The Ork had doubled back and parried with its crude axe. The teeth of the chainblade bit hungrily at the axe, sending sparks flying over both Quinn and the Ork. The Ork broke the hold and took a swing at Quinn. Quinn stepped back and fired two more shots into its face with his pistol. The Ork's lip exploded into a torrent of blood and Quinn saw the bone underneath rupture from the second shot. The Ork cried out and attempted to fire back, but before it could Quinn swung his chainblade round, catching the Ork in the side of the face. The teeth tore into the tough leathery skin of the creature and began to tear through the bone beneath. The Ork fell with a muted cry and stayed down.

Quinn turned back to his squad and saw the man who had been hit was fine, the flakk vest had taken the brunt of the blow and several of the other men were helping him up. The man grinned up at Quinn. Quinn grinned back. A second later the spot where they had all been stood exploded in a bright flash and a poof of smoke. Quinn was sent flying back and landed against the Trukk.

His senses blurred, but he could make out Harold running towards him yelling.

Harold help Quinn to his feet and he looked over at the battle tank closest to them. The main cannon was firing down the street and another large explosion soon followed, but the heavy bolter sponsons were wrecked, and more missiles were raking the line now. The street had filled with rocket launcher wielding Orks and the walkers were unloading their deadly arsenal as well.

"Fall back" Quinn coughed before yelling; "FALL BACK"

The remaining Guardsmen taking cover at the line did not argue and began to run back from the line.

Vern spotted the retreat and grimaced.

"Here they come lads"

Harold helped Quinn back from the line, Quinn ordered him to bring him to the Chimera where Vern and his men were stood.

"Jeremiah!" Harold yelled, "Cover me and the Sergeant"

"I'm here for ya" Jeremiah ran just behind the two of them.

"Tell the tanks to move back" Quinn said hoarsely into Harold's ear, "And tell the Hellhound to get ready"

The Hellhound he spoke of was sat immobile in the middle of a hollow building on the right side of the street. Its heavy flamer would work wonders when the Ork horde got close enough. The men inside watched as dozens of Guardsmen hobbled and sprinted past their building, they knew that they would be needed soon. Co-Rolan stood behind the vehicle chanting away.

Quinn heaved himself over to Vern who was preparing his sidearm. "Vern!" He coughed.

"Quinn?" Vern turned when he heard his voice, "You all falling back already?"

"Not the time, Vern" Quinn glared and leant against the rear of the Chimera.

Next to him was a thin young boy with scraggly ginger hair shakily holding a lasgun tight.

The boy regarded him for a moment then went back to aiming down the street.

"You need to get this Chimera ready to move, we'll have to rally back to Hughes' position if the Hellhound doesn't stop them" Quinn yelled into Vern's ear.

Vern turned to the younger man.

"Flair, get us ready to move, everyone else get ready to lay on the fire"

Flair nodded gratefully and made haste through the interior of the transport.

Quinn looked back to the line they had held less than two minutes before.

The two Battle tanks were beginning to roll slowly back, their cannons still firing and the front mounted lascannons stinging his eyes every time they fired. Past them the walkers were smoking wrecks lying limp in the street, and the transports that had been coming in were also laid asunder in the road.

The Orks that had been embarked upon them lay dead and bloody in the street.

For a moment Quinn regretted falling back, at this stage it looked him the remaining men he had could have held the line.

Moments later another torrent of shots struck the line. Missiles, energy blasts and solid projectiles tore the sandbags apart in an instant.

Quinn looked past the crashed trucks and saw the source of all the shots. Massive hosts of Orks were charging down the street now, the rocket launcher wielding Orks were accompanying them, firing and laughing wildly all the way. The massive crowd must have been made up of at least a hundred Orks, all running and roaring, and there in the middle of them stood the Mek. The creature's eyes were hidden behind a pair of rusted goggles which had wiring running from them into its back, a huge pylon like device mounted on its back and a mechanized axe in one of its bulging hands, it truly was a massive beast.

It strode through the horde slowly; the Orks around it had heavily customised weaponry and wore metallic armour like the Nob had before.

"Vern!" Quinn yelled. Vern turned back to him, "There! That's their leader!"