Title: Angelus Erroneous: Fabricati Diem
Author: Spike
Chapter: Two
Suddenly, my thoughts were shattered by a distinctive, high-pitched battle cry.
It was the shriek that always came from Jessie's mouth whenever she charged into combat.
I shrugged. Okay, every man and woman for themselves then.
Watching her in battle always never ceased to amaze me. She always charged in at an incredible speed and, with a dazzling array of unequalled movement she could charge into an opponent and kill him in the blink of an eye.
And this case was no exception: Right now, Jessie faced a massive greenskin that glared down at her as she charged. The Orc blinked in a diminutive fashion: Obviously he had never expected to see a human charge up to him in a bold fashion, let alone a 'wimmin' of those stinking 'Oomans'. But, in the end, this was combat and there was no way any Ork was going to give quarter to a foe.
If that bellow was anything to go by.
But Jessie didn't seem too perturbed. Being situated on an Ork world had given her plenty of time and space to hone her combat skills. And being able to outpace and outwit the most simple and brutish opponents, she was able to get an edge over her opponents with speed and fluidity of movement
Here, she managed to sense where the Ork was going to deliver the blow with his enormous weapon: It was going to slice the air above her with the intention of taking off her head. But Jessie was too smart for such a move: She quickly ducked underneath the blade as the greenskin dealt it's blow. She then followed this up by leaping up and ramming her foot into the Ork's chest.
What happened next was pretty bizarre.
She then rammed her other foot into the Ork and quickly ran up his chest and his face! Then, with one incredible back-flip, she came crashing down, in a seated position onto the Ork's shoulders, with its head in-between her legs.
The Ork couldn't believe what had happened – so much so, it started yelling rather loudly in defiance. It started waving its weapon around in massive arcs trying to remove the unwelcome attachment to his head. He also attempted to throw her off by heaving his shoulders around.
But Jessie was having none of that. Instead, she calmly pulled a dagger out from her boot and, without any hesitation whatsoever, drove it deep into the Orks skull.
The greenskin bellowed a bellow that shook the jungle to it's foundations. He bellowed both in pain and in his frustration of being unable to kill such a troublesome foe. Finally, he reached up and tried to pull Jessie off his head.
But Jessie was always one step ahead: She quickly pulled her legs up and placed her feet onto the Ork's shoulders. Then, with an incredible sense of movement, she did another flip backwards.
She landed gracefully onto the green jungle floor – seconds before the greenskin cam crashing down afterwards.
Jessie grinned with sadistic pleasure and reached behind her back – to pull out a chainsword. Then she darted off, in search of new opponents.
I blinked. That woman's combat skills never cease to amaze me.
Sure it may sound rather extraordinary, but pulling off such a move was no difficult task for Jessie.
It was at this point in time that my eyes hardened. There was something rather unsettling about the way she fought the greenskins. Sure, Jessie had been fighting Orks for a while but it her mental state outside the battlefield was a completely different story.
Like me, Jessie has been up against Orks for so long that we both have a pleasure in killing all those damned greenskins. But unlike me, Jessie doesn't kill Orks because she can't stand the bastards – No, instead she lives for the thrill of the hunt.
That being said, out of all of us, Jessie has developed the greatest level of adaptation to this planet. It makes me wonder what would happen to her should she ever leave this planet.
But then again, should the opportunity arise, there's no way she will take it.
Well at least that's what I think anyway.
Oh well, time to get back to the action.
I then darted out from behind the tree and straight back into the combat zone.
Another Ork caught sight of my recent re-appearance and aimed his boltgun. But he wasn't quick enough: I immediately opened fire, grinning as the warm, familiar scent of bolt pistol smoke crawled into my nostrils. Ah, it doesn't get any better than this…
As for the Ork, well, he suddenly found his chest being penetrated by several holes. This was followed by another that thundered its way right through his cranium. He then found himself tumbling to the ground but by that stage, his brain couldn't tell him he was dead.
A trio of Orks then decided to charge for me – but when they made as much noise as a squad of Imperial Guard Ogryns and moved with the same amount of grace as a Leman Russ tank, I was hardly perturbed. I just stood my ground and kept firing at them, aiming for their legs. Within seconds, they all tumbled and fell onto the floor of the jungle.
Sensing my two pistols, growing hot, I ceased firing.
Not that there was anything left in range to shoot at anyway: The Orks I had brought down, they groaned in a manner that was both bestial and full of pain. Some started crawling on their bellies, using their elbows to support themselves. Others glared back at me and snarled in defiance. One even reached for his boltgun.
But I wasn't bothered even in the slightest. With my two pistols smoking at the barrels, I slowly made my way over to the downed Orks.
The greenskins burned many a hateful gaze as I approached, but I was hardly worried.
They weren't going anywhere. And it wasn't like they were going to do anything that would bother me.
Provided that Ork with the boltgun had a lousy aim…..
I stopped my pace mere inches in front of the nearest Ork. His red eyes burned at me with ferociousness.
I paused momentarily – but it didn't take long before my extreme contempt for the Orks took control. Immediately, my steel-capped boot came crashing into his face. It smashed his nose apart and managed to penetrate its way right into his brain.
The other Orks immediately started roaring in an appalled fashion (or at least that's what it sounded like). Obviously they didn't seem to like the idea of having one of their number kicked in the face when he was downed.
"The same to you, you bastards!" I shouted back, feeling my fingers engaging within the now quite-familiar kick of the bolt-pistol trigger.
Sweeping my two pistols in two separate arcs, I rained death in both directions upon the downed Orks. I watched in glee as the bolt shells tore apart heads, penetrated muscles and triggered bursts of green blood that sprayed everywhere.
Yes, this is how you catch your enemy: when he's helpless.
Some may call it sick but I call it pure satisfaction.
However, in my pleasure, I forgot all about the Ork I had seen seconds earlier: the one who was still clutching his boltgun.
Well, this Ork wanted me to know that he was still around and made his presence known.
With a bolt shell to leg.
I screamed with pain as the white-hot shell penetrated its way into my flesh. The bolt sent me tumbling backwards, down onto the jungle floor.
Immediately, my gaze picked up the intruder. He leered at me in triumphant fashion. Oddly enough, even though he had just brought me down, he didn't fire any more shots. A likely guess was that he wanted to savour the victory of knocking me off me feet.
But this gave me the opportunity I needed.
Although every muscle in my leg was screaming in pain, I grit my teeth and aimed the bolt pistol in my right hand at the stinking greenskin.
"No Ork is going to get the better of me!" I snarled under my breath.
And with one click of the trigger, I put the Ork out of my misery.
He fell onto his face without a sound.
I blinked through the smoke that emitted from the barrel of my bolt pistol. All around were the corpses of all the Orks I had killed. All around was nothing in the way of movement nor was there any sound. Aside from the distant screams of the dying and the gunfire that rang out across the jungle, no more Orkish sounds could be heard.
Nothing could challenge me.
And with an injured leg, it was probably just as well.
I sighed and looked up at the sky.
All around, the sounds of my companions fighting the Orks raged on.
Groaning with the pain that was still present in my leg, I slowly sat up. Well at least tried to – such a task wouldn't have been difficult had it not been for the freshly-created wound.
Still I managed to hoist my torso up off the ground to examine the wound.
It wasn't a pretty sight: The bolt shell had not only penetrated my flesh but it also tore a chunk out from the rest the leg, thus leaving the insides of the leg exposed to the rest of the world.
My brow furrowed. Well, this wasn't good…..
Just then, I heard the sounds of footsteps approaching.
I looked up, my hands readily clutching my bolt pistols.
But there was no need for such concern. There, emerging from the smoke of battle was Xerxes, a smoking lasgun in hand.
He noticed me sitting in front of the mass of Ork corpses and smiled.
"Well now" he said, casting an eye at my kills. "You've certainly been busy"
"You could say that" I replied. "How about you?"
"Oh I've killed a few" the former rogue trader replied.
He then noticed the wound in my leg. This promptly sent his smile off his face.
"Oh my" he said. "That looks nasty"
"You don't say…."
"Did one of those Orks do that?"
"Yeah" I replied. "But I sent that bastard to his grave"
"I bet he learned his lesson" Xerxes grinned sardonically. "You just couldn't help yourself, eh?"
"Listen" I said. "Are you going to crap on like that when I'm in dire need of medical attention?!"
"All right, all right!" he sighed.
Geez, he may have grown some balls since we first met but it still doesn't mean he's actually of any help.
Slinging his lasgun over his shoulder, he knelt down beside me. Picking up my arm by the wrist, Xerxes then slung it over his shoulder and then proceeded to lift me to my feet.
"Can you walk?" he asked.
"Not too well" I replied. "But I'll give it a shot."
Gradually, my feet sensed earth. Leaning on Xerxes for support, my good foot slowly picked up the distinctive rhythm of travelling up and down.
Now that the art of walking had been properly re-established, both myself and Xerxes made our way across the battlefield, in search of survivors.
By now, the battlefield had ground to a standstill. Gone were the clatter of boltgun fire and gone were the unmistakable roars of bestial brutality from the greenskins. Instead, there was utter silence.
Furthermore, the battlefield was engulfed in a massive cloud of smoke. It managed to conceal everything in a haze of grey – the type of which that was spawned from boltgun fire and the heat of battle. The corpses of the Orks were still in decent visible range and so were some of the numerous ferns that bordered the clearing. All else was shielded by the smoke.
As myself and the former Rogue Trader captain picked our way through the many corpses across the clearing, two shapes came into view.
It was Bishop and Jessie.
The former fixed us with a grim expression. Ork was splattered across his bare chest, his chainsword was riddled with pieces of green flesh and his fingers were stained red from firing his gun constantly.
Still, his face bore something of sweet relief.
Jessie also looked relieved but, unlike Bishop, she didn't bother applying the effort of concealing it. She grinned the widest of grins and her eyes still blazed with the adrenalin she regularly felt when she was slaughtering the Orks.
Bishop looked up to see me leaning on Xerxes.
"Well, it's good to see you two are still alive" he said.
"Same to you" Xerxes grinned.
Drop dead I thought
"Been having fun?"
"Well, I kinda got my foot blown off…" I replied sardonically.
"Really?" Bishop said with a small smile. "I never thought those greenskins will ever manage to strike you with a wound. You must be losing your touch, Narc"
"Thanks for the sympathy" I replied sarcastically.
"Sympathy?!" Jessie exclaimed. "There is no sympathy for someone who lets himself get shot up by those greenskins! If one of them wounded you Narc, then chances are you weren't moving quickly enough!!"
Bishop and myself exchanged bewildered glances. Yes, Jessie was at her finest on the battlefield but sure inspires some peculiar behaviour.
Xerxes, however, cleared his throat.
"So Jessie" he said. "Did you kill a lot of Orks today?"
"Absolutely!" she grinned. "But when compared to previous fights, I must admit they were a lot more boring."
Bishop, Xerxes and I all blinked.
"Dammit" she went on. "We should be fighting bigger and tougher Orks! We shouldn't be fighting small groups of them under cover, we gotta hunt down a location where they gather in huge numbers and slaughter them all!"
Indeed, it was times like these that had me worried about Jessie. For there is always the worrying thought that her love for fighting Orks is having on her mind: It makes me wonder how long it will take before her love of combat becomes a necessity.
And when that happens, what happens when she runs out of Orks to fight? Will she turn on us…..?
Just then, all four of us heard the noise of running feet. This was soon accompanied by the burst of flame that could have only come form a flamer and the distinctive scream that could only have come from Laertes' lungs.
The four of us sighed. Obviously, the priest hadn't noticed yet that all the Orks were already dead.
Bishop sighed. "Jessie?"
"Yes?'
"Do the honours will you?"
"Sure thing"
And with that, she disappeared into the smoke, heading for the noise.
It would seem that all the time spent travelling with us has done little to quell the priest's fanatical nature. If anything, hanging around group of rough and ready renegades like us may have made things worse.
You'd think that trying to talk sense into Laertes has been done before. We have all tried. We have all attempted to knock some sense into him using words, pleas, threats, knives and even guns. But to no avail. He just keeps going his way, convinced that he's doing the Emperor's bidding. Furthermore, Laertes doesn't listen to a single damn word we say.
Still he does get the job done.
And in this game of constant survival that's all we need.
"Seems I'm going to have a few words with our goodly priest here" he muttered.
"Do you honestly think he'll listen to you?" I inquired. "He's a fanatic! He won't fear a single damn thing when he's convinced the Emperor is walking with him!"
"He will listen to me" Bishop growled. "When I'm in command, I don't tolerate any insubordination.
"And I don't like any bastard taking a well-planned ambush into his own hands"
Xerxes' facial expression suddenly grew guilty.
"I tried to stop him!" he protested. "I tired to hold him back! I tired to talk him out of it!"
"Well then" Bishop replied grimly "Maybe you should try harder"
"Look boss" I said. "We gotta do something about Laertes. He isn't as much as a warrior as a liability! If he keeps doing things his way then he's going to get us all killed!"
"Why?" Bishop shot back "He's killed more Orks than you have!"
I blinked.
"So what's the use of punishing at him for insubordination?" Our Fearless Leader added "Come on! Tell me, seeing you're so keen on telling me how to do my job!?"
I stiffened. I wasn't liking the direction this conversation was taking
"Oh I'm sorry, did I interrupt something?" a voice said.
All of us looked up to see Deacon approach. He strode out of the smoke with his enormous heavy stubber slung over his shoulders. His arms were stained with sweat and spots of black that could only have come from his consistent firing. His facial expression was grim – this wasn't unusual because he was the most cheerless out of all of us.
Except when he was dishing out threats from behind a knife.
"Laertes knows that we all function as a group and he needs Bishop's leadership purely for survival" he went on. "Without it, the stupid fool would be useless. And would most likely be long dead by now"
"Exactly" Bishop said
Damn it, once again, Deacon has come running to Bishop's rescue, just like the scum-sucking lap-dog he is.
"Guerrilla warfare isn't the place for a fanatic!" I yelled in exasperation. "What type of bloodthirsty, absolution-seeking fanatic understands the necessity of stealth in an increasingly hostile environment?!"
"If he does his job of killing Orks, then that's all perfectly fine by me!" Bishop shot back.
By now the screaming and the flames from the Flamer had all come to an abrupt halt.
We all exchanged glances. Jessie had done her job.
Bishop then fixed me with a mean glare.
"Don't tell me how to my job private" he growled softly.
I suddenly felt very uneasy.
"True he messed up my plan but at least he will both kill the Orks and do things my way"
I was half expecting him to draw out a pistol and gun me down there and then.
And he would've had we not been interrupted.
Jessie suddenly emerged from the smoke, dragging the now out-cold Laertes behind her.
Bishop's gaze then hardened and he turned away from me.
"Now that we're all here" he growled "We should be moving. No doubt the smoke and the noise from this little skirmish would've attracted some attention. So we better get out of here before more Orks come"
"What?!" Jessie spluttered 'We're running?!"
"Of course" Bishop snapped. "We don't want to draw to much attention to us! No doubt some mob of Greenskins has already picked up this battle and is already on their way to investigate
"And we don't want them finding out about us right?"
"Bah!" Jessie retorted. "Let them come! I can take them all on! I would rather fight them all rather than hide from the prospect of combat!"
If Jessie thought that would come across as a convincing argument, she was sadly mistaken. And unfortunately for her, Bishop was the last person she would want to argue with.
"Need I remind you that we are fighting a guerrilla war?!" he growled in-between gritted teeth. "We must not leave any trace of our presence whatsoever. We must kill any Orks we come across in the name of survival. We must attack them in small groups under cover as going after a swarm of them in the open is plain suicide! And we must kill any of those green bastards that see us so we can keep our secret presence planet non-existent!"
"True" Jessie argued. "But the more Orks that come here, the more I can kill! They would have no chance against my and my skills!
"Hell, bring the whole planet here!" she grinned. "I could take them all on! And then we can go around and do as we please without having to resort to constantly hiding!!!"
Both Xerxes and I exchanged bewildered glances. This was perhaps the extent of the thrill Jessie has in the heat of combat. Needless to say, it was rather unsettling.
I cast a gaze over at Deacon. He seemed hardly bothered by the conflicts between our comrades – Instead, he had lit up a cigar and was calmly puffing away.
Meanwhile, Bishop fixed a hard gaze at Jessie – sure she had delivered a heartfelt argument but all it did was fall on deaf ears.
"Let's get out of here" he growled.
Jessie blinked.
"But…" she began to protest.
Bishop didn't reply, Instead he fixed her with gaze that would make the blood of a Chaos Space Marine Champion of Khorne turn to water. Wisely, Jessie chose to keep her mouth shut.
And with that, Bishop turned around and hoisted the still unconscious Laertes over his shoulder. He then disappeared into the trees. Deacon shrugged and followed, his heavy stubber slung over his back.
I followed, still supporting Xerxes on my shoulder.
"Can you manage it?"
"I've been through worse" he grinned. "I've had my cargo raided several times before, my crew mutiny, and being held at gunpoint by dissatisfied customers and difficult negotiators. It all comes with the job of being a Rogue Trader!"
"Are you still persisting with that myth?" I snapped.
As we all followed Bishop through the jungle, I cast my gaze over my shoulder. Jessie was still standing in the middle of the clearing, in amidst the carnage and the smoke. She looked around before finally deciding to follow us.