WRITER'S NOTE: These next few chapters are made up of different points of view, some of which happen at the same time, I've left some marking points to help better comprehend the timeline. - Yed
Nathaniel was sat next to Arashi when the report came in.
It was Grenn's voice and he sounded more panicked than his usual self.
"ORK FORCES SIGHTED EAST QUADRANT, TWO TRANSPORTS WITH TWENTY PLUS INFANTRY EMBARKED, ANOTHER TWENTY ON FOOT"
Erratic gunfire was heard in the background as the Sergeant gave his report.
Arashi gripped his flamer tighter and looked to Nathaniel.
"Ramsay" He said to his squad's vox bearer.
The young lad turned and jogged over the dugout to his Sergeant. He held the vox device out to Nathaniel. Nathaniel took the device and held it to his mouth.
"Third squad awaiting orders. All clear here"
Arashi and Ramsay looked around to confirm Nathaniel's statement.
"First squad standing by. No activity here" Gunnery Sergeant Phelps' voice followed.
"All teams defend your sectors, report any change in situation and have your men stand ready." The Commissar's harsh voice ordered through the vox. "This is already more than first squad reported seeing so we have reason to suspect they have reinforcements with them"
"Any sign of the Warboss amongst them?"
"NEGATIVE" Grenn's voice was once again accompanied by the sound of a heavy bolter firing. The same sound could be heard echoing over the town.
"Where is Ravio?" Nathaniel hissed to Arashi.
"He hasn't come back from the Chimera bay" Arashi replied. "But I hear Eli and Trevor were getting out today"
Nathaniel took some console with that. He would need every able body available to him.
"Alright, stay ready." Nathaniel said as he drew his laspistol.
Ramsay joined the other men pointing their rifles over the top of their dugout. Apart from their hastily dug trench there was little to no cover. The street they had been assigned to had been near leveled before their unit had arrived and lay desolate with the odd pile of bricks and random other clutter.
This would be good if they were assaulted, as the Orks would have no cover to use but at the same time would prove fatal if the Orks came in on transports.
"Really wish we had some tank traps" Arashi remarked.
"You and me both" Ramsay shakily agreed.
The sounds of shots were echoing from behind them now. Many of the squad turned to look down the streets as if they would see the conflict that Second squad would be partaking in.
"Watch over Grenn" Nathaniel prayed silently. "Watch over Grenn and all of us."
Jericus dared not take his finger off the trigger. The Heavy bolter turret shook violently in his clenched hands with a considerable force yet still he held on.
Conroy was screaming something in his ear as he fed the ammunition into the mighty gun but his words were drowned out by the intense sound that emanated from the turret.
The enemy transports were weaving in and out of each other's paths as they zoomed towards their position. Their crude mounted machine guns chattered shots inaccurately towards their position sending yellow streaks zipping around the dugout.
Jericus was aiming for the transport that stayed predominantly to the left but failed to meet his mark for the most part. The odd lucky shot struck the vehicle and sent a spray of sparks flying over the driver but it did little to slow them.
The Orks embarked on the transports had their axes and pistols raised high, all roared their fury into the sky as they were jostled from left to right by the sudden turns the vehicles performed.
"Ork vehicle sighted my position," A voice cried out through the radio. It was Gunny Phelps' voice, Jericus decided.
Sergeant Grenn was roaring his own orders into the vox, he read out co-ordinates and numbers so fast that Jericus could have sworn the Sergeant was speaking in binary. The only reason he could hear his voice at all was for their squad's radioman, Jayce, had the volume on his pack increased to a level audible over the gunfire.
"RELOADING" Conroy announced, the heavy bolter trigger clicked empty and Jericus let go. His hands were numb from the constant vibrations. He looked over as Conroy quickly began to open a new box magazine for the turret.
"Conroy my shots aren't doing anything" He yelled.
"Shut up you idiot!" Conroy spat as he linked the ammunition feed with the turret. "Clear!"
Jericus began to fire again, the tracer rounds streaked across the incoming vehicles. The turret landed a lucky hit and killed the gunner on the nearest vehicle. The unfortunate Ork's head exploded splattering gore over the driver and the embarked Orks nearest to the front. But the Trukk did not slow and to Jericus' surprise the Orks were actually laughing at the Ork who had died.
"They're coming right for us!" Jericus heard O'Donnel cry out nearby.
A smoke filled explosion tore open the side of the nearest transport suddenly causing an Ork to fall and roll in the dirt. Jericus turned and saw Sergeant Grenn reloading his grenade launcher and grinning.
Jericus focused his turret's fire on the fallen Ork and smiled as the fallen xenos' limbs tore violently from its body.
"Emperor protect us," Jericus droned as he continued to fire. The infantry that had been following the transports on foot were getting hammered by mortar fire and were almost completely decimated, but the vehicles were almost upon them.
"They're officially in the city limits!" Another man cried out.
"Prepare for assault!" Grenn roared over the noise. "Over-watch now!"
The nearest transport skidded and bumped over the rubble in the street but still sped on. The embarked Orks had begun firing shots from their pistols now, adding to the noise.
Jericus shuddered as the Orks let out a mighty roar of: Waaagh!
The two transports halted five metres from the dugout and the remaining gunner began to fire without mercy.
The shots at this range were considerably more accurate and several men went down screaming. One of the shots pinged off of the shield guard from Jericus' turret causing him to duck down.
The Orks began to disembark from their vehicles. As they all leapt off the vehicle rose in height as the suspension's strain was relieved.
"OVERWATCH" Grenn repeated. "Send these bastards back! Fire, Fire, Fire!"
On cue, the fifteen men from fourth squad sprang forth from the buildings behind the dugout and took up their firing positions. All thirty-six men present sprayed the Orks with fire from their lasguns. The Orks shielded themselves and a few dropped with the weight of fire. Most of the Orks had taken cover behind their transports, the drivers and the gunner of which perished almost immediately.
Jericus' morale lifted and he yelled in triumph as his heavy bolter turret caused on the vehicle's engines to explode in a shower of sparks.
Grenn fired his grenade launcher again and sent an Ork flying back. The men were jeering and crying out in triumph.
Suddenly from behind the nearest trukk something was thrown over into the dugout. Whatever had been thrown landed a way behind Jericus; he turned to see what it was.
The object in question had landed in between Darniel and a man he did not know, it was a stick like device with a cylinder at the top of it.
"Stick-bomb!" Grenn yelled. "Darniel get ou-"
The grenade exploded. The two men next to it were sent flying away from it and the grenade tore up the dirt around them.
Jericus could barely hear. Everything was ringing and a small cloud of smoke descended over the dugout.
He turned and saw a stream of flame soar through the smoke and toward the Ork positions.
"Burn you alien bastards!" O'Donnel yelled as his flamer spat forth the promethium fueled fire. Several Orks were engulfed by the flames, they cried out in pain yet still managed to press on for another few steps before dropping.
Grenn threw down his empty grenade launcher and drew his Laspistol and his combat blade.
"Assault!" He cried out. "Hold the line!"
The fifteen men from fourth squad could not see what was going on in front of the dugout due to the smoke, but still blindly fired in.
Jericus looked to Conroy for an order, but the sullen man had already picked up his shotgun and started to fire the clunky sounding weapon. Jericus himself had a lasgun that lay next to his heavy bolter turret.
Just as he went to pick it up another cry of: "Grenade!" rang out. He grabbed the rifle just as the explosion went off in front of his turret. The blast sent the turret tumbling back; it landed on Jericus and caused him to sprawl over to his side.
"Agh!" Jericus cried out. He looked back at Conroy and saw an Ork towering above the man. Another blast from his shotgun sent the beast stumbling back. Before Conroy could cock the shotgun again, another Ork ran forward and shot Conroy in the chest that this time sent the Guardsman falling back.
"Got to help Conroy" Jericus said to himself as he heaved himself up. He aimed his lasgun. He felt a sudden burning sensation and a jolt in his back. He fell forward and landed on one knee.
He turned and saw a torrent of las-fire coming from behind the dugout, the inaccurate shots were tearing the ground up in the trench and some hitting the men manning it.
Jericus forced himself up into a crouch and turned back to Conroy. The Ork stepped on Conroy's prone body and charged into the trench its gun barking off shots and its axe raised.
Jericus fired his lasgun on full auto into the Ork's stomach where Conroy's shotgun had struck. The Ork screamed in pain and fell on its front. Jericus wasted no time and leapt forward. He buried his bayonet in the beast's skull and twisted it before pulling it out again.
Before Jericus could revel in his kill however, another three Orks entered the trench.
He saw one of them swing its cutlass like sword into O'Donnel's arm. The arm came clean off and O'Donnel cried out and involuntarily dropped in flamer. Without the stream of fire suppressing them, another dozen Orks charged over the top of the dugout and fired into O'Donnel.
Fuel canister. Jericus' eyes widened. The Ork gunfire caused the canister on O'Donnel's back to explode. The unleashed promethium set all the Orks and Guardsmen nearby alight.
Ablaze Guardsmen and Orks alike screamed and ran aimlessly before falling silently to the ground.
Another three bangs sounded out as more grenades went off around the dugout, men were dying all around him and Orks were replacing them. A man bayoneted an Ork in the throat before being cut down by another two of its kin.
Jericus saw Sergeant Grenn through the crowd battling with a larger Ork, the beast swung its mighty two handed axe down but the Sergeant double back and unloaded two shots into the beast's face.
"We're being overwh-" Jayce's voice died with him as an Ork slammed an axe into the back of his head. The man fell face first and a spray of gore and skull fragments followed him. Several more axe blows from the Ork destroyed the radio.
Jericus forced himself to stand and mustered all his courage.
"You are an Imperial Guardsman of Cadia." He told himself. "You die in service of the Emperor"
He spotted a nearby Ork holding a man by the throat and repeatedly chopping at his stomach with an axe. The Ork was unaware of Jericus advancing on him.
He hoped the bayonet was sharp enough.
Jericus ran at the unassuming Ork with his rifle poised. He cried out and stabbed the bayonet into the beast's throat. The thing's skin was tough and leathery but to Jericus' relief the bayonet went through all the same.
The Ork roared out and turned to face Jericus. He quickly twisted the bayonet with an effort and pulled it back out.
"You git!" The Ork yelled with one hand over its wound. "C'mere!" It lurched forward and swung its axe. Jericus tripped backwards over a Guardsman's body and fell on his back. The Ork pursued and growled at its denial.
The Ork swung its axe down once again and met its mark. Jericus yelped in pain as the axe embedded itself in his chest. His vest had taken the brunt of the hit but his ribs were in agony.
A clunky shot rang out behind them and the Ork jolted to the side taking its axe with it. Jericus looked over and saw Conroy lying with his shotgun smoking.
"Run, Jericus!" Conroy croaked.
Jericus rolled over and began to crawl over to Conroy, but two Orks had grabbed the shotgun-wielding Guardsman and had started hacking into him.
Jericus winced and forced himself not to cry. He crawled towards the back of the dugout where the remnants of fourth squad would be found. Bodies were strewn everywhere, bloody and disfigured. The stench was unbearable. He crawled over both Ork bodies and Guardsmen's alike.
Once he reached the lip of the dugout he hauled himself out and began to weakly crawl. He looked up and to his horror saw the men of fourth squad were in a bloody brawl of their own. Several Ork foot soldiers and a larger Ork were tearing into the men laughing all the while.
No. Jericus shuddered and turned back to where he had seen Sergeant Grenn.
The Sergeant was bleeding from a dozen wounds and looked worn out, he was now only holding his combat blade that was now bloodied and snapped at the point.
The larger Ork had its own set of wounds, the blood staining its green flesh and blending in with the red on its leather uniform. The two faced chain-axe was clogged with gore from previous fights and was hung by the beast's side.
Several Orks stood around and watched their leader duel with Grenn. They hooted and roared insults at the Sergeant.
Jericus' head was suddenly wrenched away from the scene and turned back to fourth squad. He was held by his helmet and he was forced to face the holder. An Ork leered back, its breath made Jericus' eyes water and its eyes were filled with hate.
The Ork forced him to his feet and held him up.
Jericus could scare believe it but his life flashed before his eyes. Maybe this was his body's way of disconnecting himself from the harsh reality.
First day of work within the manufacturing plant in the hive-city at the age of seven. His alcoholic father killing himself after he was told he couldn't get an augment for the leg he had lost while working out in the wastes. His doting mother crying when he told her he had signed up for the Guard. The friends he made in basic training.
The past wasn't much more comforting than his current situation. He closed his eyes as the Ork swung its axe at head level.
The blow cut across his face and the Ork let him go. Blood splattered across his eyelids and he felt himself fall back into the dugout. The darkness settled in the moment he landed.
"We're being overwhe-" The message cut out suddenly and was replaced by the brief sound of a scream. The part of the message that hadn't been interrupted was plagued by the sounds of cries and gunfire and the sound of Ork laughter.
Ramsay grimaced and looked over at his Sergeant.
Nathaniel kept his face composed. "Have they killed Grenn?" He wondered.
"Ramsay" He finally spoke.
"Yes Sergeant?" Ramsay replied.
"Vox" He held out his hand expectantly. Ramsay quickly handed him the device. "Commissar Yoren, this is third squad, Sergeant Nathaniel speaking, come in"
"Receiving you, Sergeant" The commissar's voice replied with the sound of mortar fire in the background. "Proceed"
"Sir, requesting permission to go and support second squad in the East of the city. We just received a message-"
"-I heard the message also and that is a no, Sergeant" The Commissar interrupted. "We can't have your position unmanned."
"We have no activity up here, sir" Nathaniel pressed. "Their full force has been reported in the other sectors."
"Stand down, Sergeant, that is an order, Yoren out." The vox clicked and left Nathaniel fuming with rage.
"Sergeant?" Arashi said. Nathaniel stayed silent.
Explosions could be heard echoing across the city and a more constant stream of gunfire being exchanged accompanied that sound. Towards Second squad's position there was a large abundance of; snaps as the Ork weaponry went off and toward First squad's there was a lot more smaller explosions heard, though whose explosives were going off he could not say.
"I'm going." Nathaniel stood up and fastened his gear. "I will not wait here fighting no enemy while our brothers perish. Who is coming with me?"
"But the Commissar-" Ramsay said.
Nathaniel regarded the men huddled around him. "If we survive this battle I will be executed for disobeying orders. That is why I am not ordering any of you to come, I am asking"
The Guardsmen present looked to each other awkwardly. Some muttered amongst themselves and others remained silent.
Arashi was the first to step forward, hefting his flamer.
"I'm with you Sergeant."
"Aye and me" Another arose. "Let no man say Hemm of seventh squad would sit back and listen to others die while those of third squad laid down their lives"
Nathaniel smiled back at him.
"I'll come too" A man who had been sat next to Hemm stood up. "And for the same reason" He elbowed Hemm and grinned.
All four from seventh squad had stood now and several more from third squad arose. Ramsay stood and gave a nervous smile.
From the twenty-two-men present, thirteen had stood up. Those remaining were thought no less of by those who stood.
"Let's move then" Nathaniel turned on his heel to make off but stopped. He spotted two men jogging toward their position in clean gear.
"Eli?" Arashi said. "Trevor?"
"We're here, we're here" Trevor panted.
Nathaniel briefed them on the situation and offered them the same choice.
The two men looked at each other and Nathaniel watched their faces as they battled with the options.
"Will all due respect, Sergeant" Eli forced himself to look Nathaniel in the eyes when he spoke. "I've only just gotten out of the Doc's room, don't wanna get shot by the Commissar the moment I get out"
"Understood" Nathaniel nodded. "And you Trevor?"
"Same here, Sarge, sorry"
"Nothing to apologise for" Nathaniel assured them. "Rest of you, come on"
Nathaniel led the thirteen others away and left the remaining men sitting in the dugout.
They crossed the patch of dead earth that had once been the city's park and headed down one of the back roads to avoid the company CP building. Arashi hazarded a look down the road and saw the mortar teams loosing rounds into the air.
Nathaniel was at the front of the team and paced quickly to the point that the others were jogging to keep up."He's not dead." He kept telling himself.
Grenn had saved his life a few days previous and now Nathaniel would return the favour.
They finally reached the street that led to Second squad's designated street and Nathaniel ordered them into a run.
The men sprinted down the street, their footsteps usually would have echoed through the desolate street but today were drowned out under the constant noise of gunfire.
The sounds had gotten louder and equally as disturbing the closer they had gotten yet Nathaniel didn't slow. As he reached the corner that would turn onto the street Second squad held he drew his las-pistol and his chain-sword. He revved it in anticipation and turned the corner.
The sight that greeted him was horrifying.
Orks were laying into the men mercilessly in the dugout. Barely any standing Guardsmen could be seen inside and those who did were, were quickly being cut down by Ork blades.
Behind that, the remains of fourth squad were fighting for their lives against another dozen Orks. The men scrabbled and fought valiantly against the alien beasts that towered above them. Bayonets swiped. Axes fell. Blood splattered.
Nathaniel spotted an Ork raise a young Guardsman from the dugout by his helmet just to strike the poor lad in the face with its axe.
And there beyond all this, his friend stood bloodied in the face of a larger than average Ork.
The Ork was holding its two handed weapon by its side and speaking with Grenn. The words weren't audible from this distance but they were followed by a rolling laughter from the other Orks who had gathered to watch the fight.
Nathaniel could see the blood and sweat rolling down Grenn's tired features and sprung into action.
"Hemm! Take six of the men round the right and assist fourth squad, the rest of you with me. Arashi while we assist Sergeant Grenn I want you to purge that dugout"
"Aye Sergeant" Arashi grinned.
"Move!" Nathaniel barked before sprinting towards Grenn.
The four men from seventh squad accompanied by two others from third sprinted headlong towards the assault ahead of them.
Arashi kept up with Nathaniel despite the flamer and Ramsay ran the other side of him.
Nathaniel began to fire his pistol into the back of the Orks who watched the combat causing one of them to drop. The Orks roused and turned.
The guardsmen behind Nathaniel opened fire dropping several more. A roar of anger followed and the Orks charged.
The larger Ork growled at the incoming Guardsmen and picked up its weapon with both hands. Nathaniel saw Grenn beckon at the beast and the two locked blades again.
The first of the turned Orks was coming into striking distance now; Nathaniel fired his pistol into its face and skidded onto one knee. The Ork's counter blow went over his head and before it could alter its stance Nathaniel had driven his active chain-sword into the alien's groin.
The teeth of the sword ripped down through the Ork's groin and out the bottom causing the Ork to fall in on itself. It cried out in agony and Nathaniel finished it with a flick of his motorised sword across its throat. Arashi's flamer had laid waste to several more of the Orks and Ramsay was mid-way through gutting one with his bayonet. The Guardsman was firing at the same time and the Ork hollered curses and cries as it fell.
Nathaniel grinned and pressed on. The adrenaline had kicked in just as another Ork came at him hollering and cursing. He fired his pistol four times and the Ork shuddered with each shot. But still it pressed on towards him.
He sidestepped the Ork's charge and drove his chain-sword across. Using the Ork's own momentum the sword bit deep and wide across its stomach. The beast roared and turned. It swung down at Nathaniel and it was too late to block it.
The blow hit the Sergeant on the shoulder and sent him slamming down to the ground. Nathaniel cried out in pain and desperately tried to push himself up as the Ork's stomach leaked onto his prone form.
"Arashi!" He yelled out, but Arashi did not answer him.
Instead Ramsay fired his weapon into the injured alien's face sending it falling over backwards with a pained cry.
Ramsay grabbed Nathaniel by the arm and helped him up. He then bent down and retrived the Sergeant's chain-sword and handed it to him.
"You alright Sergeant?"
Nathaniel nodded with a smile in thanks.
Ramsay gave a curt nod and turned back to the fight. The Orks were all but dispatched now; Nathaniel turned and saw Arashi unleashing an inferno from his flamer into the dugout. The Orks within writhed and ran. Arashi's job had been easy as there were no standing Guardsmen to avoid; yet he made every effort not to light ignite the fallen.
Nathaniel pressed on through the combat with Ramsay on his flank. They both put down another Ork with a burst from Ramsay's lasgun and a fatal swipe of his Chain-sword and were at Grenn's position.
Nathaniel's eyes widened as he saw the larger Ork twist on its foot and use the momentum to send a sideways swipe at Grenn. The Sergeant attempted with the last piece of strength he possessed to block it but to no avail.
His blade shattered in two and the hungry teeth of the chain-axe bit deep. The Sergeant cried out and flew a good four feet in the air before landing on his back with a grunt.
"Grenn!" Nathaniel cried out.
The Ork Nob turned to face him and its bloodied face sneered. The beast had sustained a good deal of injury in the fight and Nathaniel planned to make full use of this advantage.
"Kill this beast!" He said to Ramsay before turning and charging toward the Ork.
Ramsay followed and fired a burst at the Ork's chest. The heavy leather that the Ork wore absorbed the shots and it did not slow.
Nathaniel swung his blade at the Ork. The Ork parried and shoved his blade to the side. With the blunt end of its two handed weapon it struck him in the face on the turn which sent him stumbling back.
His head was swimming and his vision blurred. He could make out Ramsay charge ahead of him.
With the Ork's weapon still only just coming back from the wide swipe, Ramsay had a perfect chance and skewered the beast in the chest with his bayonet. The beast roared and kicked the radioman in the leg.
Ramsay fell to one knee with a cry but did not let go of his rifle.
Nathaniel leapt back to his feet and ran to Ramsay's aid, but it was too late.
The Ork's weapon came down and severed Ramsay's arms at the elbows, the radioman fell backwards with a scream and his arms fell from the rifle, boneless.
The Ork held its weapon in one hand and used the other to pull the rifle from its chest and threw it away as if it were a toy.
Nathaniel grimaced but pressed on. The Ork was vulnerable.
His chain-blade met its mark this time when he swung it, striking the Ork in the right shoulder the teeth began to tear the joint apart.
The Ork roared out and attempted to buffet Nathaniel away.
Nathaniel doubled back and as the Ork came forward with its shove he stabbed the blade next to where the bayonet had struck. The teeth once again dug hungrily into the Ork's leathery flesh sending gore and gristle splattering over Nathaniel's face as well as the Ork's.
The Ork brought its other arm around and punched Nathaniel in the side, which knocked the wind from him, but still Nathaniel pushed his blade deeper. The Ork roared and struggled violently as it tried to get away but Nathaniel gave it no ground.
The beast shuddered and cried out as it fell to one knee.
It used the two handed weapon it had used to prop itself up and once again punched Nathaniel.
This time Nathaniel relented and fell back, the chain-sword with him.
Nathaniel landed on his back and looked up at the monster. The Ork was dying and it glared down at him with its teeth bared.
"Sergeant" Arashi's voice came from behind him.
He didn't even have to turn. "Do it, Arashi"
A torrent of flame spat forth from behind him and engulfed the felled Ork. It roared and fell backwards writhing in pain until it finally moving all together.
Nathaniel stood up and looked down at its body with contempt. He then remembered Ramsay and turned back. The radioman lay on his back, pale faced and dead.
Nathaniel cursed and paced quickly towards Grenn's prone body.
He knelt next to the man and lifted his head up.
The man who had been his best friend was already dead. Pale as Ramsay and splattered with blood he lay lifeless in Nathaniel's arms. Looking down he could see the deep wound that the Ork had inflicted on him as well as the dozens of other cuts along his arms and legs.
"Dammit, Grenn" Nathaniel put a hand over his face and forced back the tears. He couldn't grieve openly for his friend in front of his men.
He looked back over his shoulder and saw they had won over the Orks in this sector. The men were checking the bodies of the fallen and killing the odd injured Ork that clung onto life.
Out of the thirteen Nathaniel had led here only seven had survived, eight including himself and four from fourth squad had survived the assault.
Arashi was stood talking to Hemm and Lewis from seventh squad and they gave him a sorrowful look.
"Sergeant" A voice from inside the dugout said suddenly.
"Yes?" Nathaniel's voice almost cracked from the tears he held back.
"We've got a couple injured in here"
"We'll bring them back with us and call the Doc" Nathaniel replied. "We've gotta get back to our street."
"Aye" Arashi agreed.
Nathaniel took one last look at Grenn and whispered. "I'll bury you later my friend. If we survive this farce."
He walked over to the survivors from fourth squad.
"Names?" He said.
"Daniel Matthews, Sergeant." A tall balding man replied.
"Luciano Greks, Sergeant." A handsome tan skinned man with black hair answered.
"Gregor Herub, Sergeant." A shorter bearded man replied.
"Jacob Bryant." The last man replied, he had large lips and matted blonde hair.
"You're all to come with me," Nathaniel ordered. "This position will not hold with just the four of you."
"Aye Sergeant." Luciano nodded. The others agreed and got ready to follow him.
Nathaniel led the men from the street, they carried two injured men with them and Luciano and picked up a shotgun he had found in the dugout.
The sounds of battle still echoed ahead of them.
"This ain't over yet," Arashi muttered ruefully.
"We're getting overwh-" The radio crackled, but nobody paid it any heed.
Phelps went down the stairs two at a time shortly followed by Barak, Dariel and Petyr.
"Regroup at the building!" He yelled out the window as he ran.
The erratic and clunky sounding gunfire of a "big shoota" rang out down the street below.
The spread out squad had come under attack where the furthest spread out men had been situated. The others were listening intently as the men ahead yelled out for assistance.
He reached the bottom floor and flung the doors open.
Strung along the line of buildings next to his own his squad sat in pairs. All aimed down the street.
The four men under attack had been twenty metres away from the rest of them and had been positioned there as scouts.
"Everyone regroup on me!" Phelps yelled down the street. The gathered men turned and sprinted back towards him.
"We ought go help them, Sergeant." Barak urged.
"I'm not in a hurry to die like our dear Plasma-gunner here, Sarge" Dariel's lofty and sarcastic voice rang out from behind him.
"Not willing more like" Barak retorted.
"Are you?" Dariel said with a laugh.
"I'm willing to lay down my life for a comrade yes," Barak growled back. "I wouldn't expect a high born little shit like yourself to understand."
"Enough" Phelps turned to them. "We will go and assist them yes. Be ready to move" He glared at Dariel when he finished his sentence and drew his laspistol and more importantly his power-sword. He thumbed the rune on the handle and activated the sword; it surged into life and thrummed as it powered up.
"Let's move!" He barked.
"Sergeant" A sly voice spoke up.
He turned and saw it was the specialist team's Sergeant Cyrus.
"Staff Sergeant?" He replied impatiently. The sound of his men's screams had turned into ones of pain now and the gunfire had intensified.
"My team and I will remain here. Hold the fort as it were"
"Very well" Phelps could have spat on the man. He didn't want to risk his specialists for a few regular Guardsmen, that was how he saw it.
Phelps began to run down the street fuming with rage and his men followed closely behind him. He could already see the building where he had posted his scouts and he quickly stacked up against the wall.
Next to the building was an alleyway that led onto another parallel street and that's where they would find the Orks who were attacking his men.
He signaled with his hands for the men to go through the alley and he sprinted into it. The men followed two at a time.
Phelps edged up to the corner of the alleyway and hazarded a look around the corner.
Ahead was an Ork transport sat immobile in the street; the gunner on the front looked frenzied and fired its big shoota turret wildly into his scouts building.
Dotting the street were craters and roadblocks made from brick piles and various other pieces of wreckage that they had formed the week before.
Phelps motioned with his hands again for the squad to move up to the nearest brick pile using the cover provided.
The Sergeant and Barak were the first to leave the alley. The two of them slid into a nearby crater. They then quickly climbed out of it and began their long crawl towards the Ork vehicle.
Dariel and Petyr soon followed and mirrored Phelps and Barak's path and after them the squad.
Phelps and Barak reached the last bit of cover first and they both sat with their backs up against it. Phelps pulled himself to the top of the pile and jutted his head out just enough for him to see. That's when he saw it.
The transport had a very different set of passengers than he had expected.
The enormous Ork within that caught his eye most of all wore huge clunky armour and had a crude looking machine gun and klaw in place of its hands.
Five other large Orks all carrying massive two-handed axes and wearing metallic plate armour flanked the monster in the transport. All of them joined in laughing and egging the gunner on.
"Dakka-Dakka!" The gunner frothed at the mouth.
Phelps ducked back down and looked at Barak with wide eyes.
"The Warboss and its retinue" He gasped.
Barak grimaced and held his plasma gun close to his chest.
The rest of the squad had regrouped on them by this point and sat awaiting orders.
"Petyr" Phelps hissed. He held out his hand.
Petyr edged over and handed the Gunnery Sergeant his vox device.
"Gunnery Sergeant Phelps requesting fire mission from mortar teams" He said in a hushed tone.
"Proceed with co-ordinates." A husky voice returned.
"Shit" Phelps fumbled through his pockets and retrieved a map of the city. He traced along the streets until he recognised their position and held a thumb over where he wanted the mortars placed.
He read out the co-ordinates and was promised a fire mission was imminent.
Soon enough Phelps heard the whistling noise that preluded a mortar shell and seconds later a small explosion struck next to the transport. Phelps heaved himself back up and looked on.
Another two mortars landed and neither met their mark.
The warboss within roared out and disembarked from the vehicle, which surged up as the suspension sprung back. The other Orks inside were jostled but laughed and leapt out as well.
"No" Phelps hissed.
The Orks began to make their way towards the scouts' building ignoring the next three mortar blasts.
"Hit something you fools" Phelps just managed not to yell.
And as if on command, the next mortar strike hit the Trukk directly in the middle. The Trukk skidded and the gunner took a chunk of shrapnel to the back of the head, killing him instantly and stopping the gunfire. The driver of the vehicle looked over and laughed heartily.
The Warboss stopped its clunky walk and turned back. The trukk took another hit, which bounced it up once again, and another blast struck just next to it.
The Warboss laughed and began to turn back to the scouts building but suddenly stopped. It was looking directly at Phelps.
"Shit!" Phelps ducked down quickly but he knew he'd been spotted. "It saw me," He announced to the squad.
Barak stood up and armed his plasma-gun.
Dariel stared back with a blank expression.
"OI" The deep voice rang out through the now very quiet street.
Phelps sighed in annoyance. "Grenades"
All of the men present drew an egg shaped grenade from their person and crouched with anticipating fingers over the pins.
"Do it!" Phelps yelled a moment before he leapt back up on top of the brick pile and threw his pin less grenade. He was echoed by another fourteen grunts as another fourteen grenades went sailing through the air.
Many of them landed where they had been willed to and exploded by the feet of the Warboss and his retinue.
To Phelps' horror the Warboss barely moved and only two of the other large Orks dropped to the floor. The cluster of smoke puffs drifted away and the Warboss began to stomp towards them. The other three charged ahead of it with their axes held high and the two on the ground began to attempt getting back up.
"Barak!" Phelps pointed past the Nobz and directly at the Warboss. "Hit him!"
Barak appeared on top of the pile next to him and fired. The bright blue shot zipped past the three axe wielding Orks who ducked at the sight of it and struck the Warboss in the side of its chest. The Plasma melted through the heavy armour it wore and the Ork roared out in anger.
The three other Orks were getting close now and Phelps knew what came next.
"Bayonets!" He barked. "Some of you get back and over-watch!"
Dariel backed through the crowd and joined those who were to over-watch while a large portion of the men fixed bayonets and moved forward.
Phelps and Barak stepped back down the pile and stood ready.
As soon as the first Ork appeared upon the pile they all opened fire. The lasfire ricocheted off of the plates for the most part, but Barak's Plasma-gun sent the beast falling backwards with a blue fire set upon its chest.
The next two did not appear on top of the pile but rather smashed through it. The bricks and slabs of concrete were sent flying and some struck the men nearest the front including Phelps. A brick buffeted the sergeant as it struck him in the stomach but he managed to keep his footing.
Barak fired blind as a whoosh of grit struck him in the face; the blue miniature star missed and struck a building out of sight.
The two large Orks charged headlong into the squad. The first one cleaved through two men and shoulder barged another. The second went straight for Phelps, its double-headed axe had no teeth but Phelps could see his face in the freshly sharpened steel all the same.
He dropped his pistol and held his power sword in two hands. He parried the blow at the middle of its handle. The heated blade cut straight through it and he scored a wound on the wielder's face.
The Ork cried out and dropped the blunt end of the severed axe, holding the other piece like a hammer.
Phelps went to strike the beast again but his swing was parried and pushed back.
He heard cries of pain from behind him as the other Ork ran amuck but there was nothing he could do for them at this point. He vaguely heard Petyr's vox pack crackle the words; "Orks our position" but he couldn't be sure.
Coming back for another try, the shattered axe swung towards Phelps in a downward arc and once more Phelps parried with a strenuous effort. He noticed a flash of joy in the Ork's eyes and before he could stop it the axe came up from the parry and caught him in the jaw.
His mouth felt aflame and he tasted an abundance of blood. He couldn't see the wound but he assumed that the strike had split both of his lips in two. That would make for an ugly scar.
He spat a goblet of blood at the Ork and glared up at it.
A sneer was returned and the Ork went in for another swing.
Phelps dodged under it and with two hands went to behead it. The blow landed in its throat and it cried out.
Phelps dug a bit deeper and pulled the blade free of the Ork's throat in a downward arc. He had not taken its head off but he had severed several veins and the creature was bleeding to death. Blood hissed and spat off the heated blade and he grimaced as the Ork's throat sprayed blood over him.
"Bigger they are" He muttered as the Ork finally fell down, dead. The blood pooled around its lifeless body.
Before Phelps could turn to help the rest of his squad, a shadow descended over him and his kill. He looked up and saw the Warboss stood with an ugly grin on its face.
"Neva liked 'im anyways," It laughed. The klaw on its arm began to open and close menacingly. "Let's see wut you's can do against me, oomie"
Phelps grimaced and stepped into a defensive stance.