"Yesterday upon the stair I met a man who wasn't there. He wasn't there again today. Oh how I wish he'd go away."- Hughes Mearns
A/N: Alrighty as per request I shall be indicating POV/character for the coming chapters and I shall get to doing so for previous chapters as well, I apologize for any confusion brought about by these details prior to this point. Thanks to SgBriggs for his review and making the request, progress my dear readers! Thanks to you, the power of the review! Just kidding, didn't mean to sound so dramatic, seriously thank you SgBriggs, glad you've enjoyed the story so far, and a second thanks to drSpliff for his second review.
POV: New character, third person
The man looks down on the crisscrossing skyways of this vast and magnificent hive-city, city-32, so many in number are the skyways it is as though he were looking at solid ground from his angle. The monolithic structures of block-like towers rise up out of the fogs below, like gravestones in the mist of some forgotten land, the heavy traffic of autocabs and people on foot make the air buzz with living energy. Despite all of this, the city before him… the world before him holds great beauty, and he has come to liberate it from all that would enslave it.
He contemplates, these citizens do not know his true nature, or purpose, how could they? They would spurn him simply because of his beliefs, believing that all he and his fellows want is their eradication. Nothing could be further from the truth.
For the man's true purpose is the pursuit of freedom; choice is what separates him from the corpse worshipers who would condemn him to a fate worse than extinction and the vile scum who worship the other so called 'gods' and dare to fight under the banner of chaos. True agents of freedom such as him know this, thus they strive to bring choice and power to the shackled masses, even to those corpse worshipers that would listen. Their methods vary, some much more brutal and sadistic than others if only for the simple reason that sometimes you must strike a person with enough force to get them to understand.
So, it comes to pass that he will soon be making the presence of his work known on this planet, not nearly as overtly as many other agents of chaos, no, no cults save for those that spring up on their own on worlds such as this, and if he can help it no actual warp corruption, and all the monstrosities it brings forth. None of those things, for his master prefers a more… subtle approach, he values his anonymity, even among his fellow gods. However, that will change soon enough, for if his god gives him any instruction whatsoever it is that above all he shall do as he pleases, in the name of true freedom.
His manipulation of the local mutants as well as the lower class underhive citizens of the city has been enough so far. His fellow agents have been rousing similar rebellion in the other cities of this planet, and even throughout the subsector, but now comes the time for the real war to begin. The Imperial Guard sent to deal with the small rebellion has been doing a commendable job thus-far, give them another month and this would be all swept up nice and tidy he concludes.
However, that will all change by tomorrow, he and his fellows have done a great deal to manipulate events to the point they are now, a carefully prepared powder keg set up by seemingly insignificant events ready to blow at the smallest spark, and tomorrow all of his efforts will pay off in what is sure to be a glorious first strike against the corpse worshippers.
Yes, he is sure they will not see it coming… poor sods. The man was once like them, Imperial Guard, proud servant of the Emperor, but then like so many of his fellows he was shown the truth, eyes opened to the invisible shackles which constrained humanity.
Not many Imperials know this, but when a chaos disciple refers to the Emperor as 'corpse god' it is not some backhanded insult, at least not to most true agents. It is an affirmation, the man that once was is no more, he has not ascended to godhood, but humans are so… fragile of spirit, they must have something, a god, an idea, a symbol to latch onto. His just happens to be something that is real and has actual influence on the ebbs and flows of the galaxy.
When he was first made aware of this truth he like so many had refused to believe, until he was given freedom, just as he and his comrades had been captured they had been let go. Their captors only saying that if they wanted true enlightenment all they would have to do was mutter a prayer to the true god, and he would answer and guide them in his quest to bring freedom to humanity, to strike off the shackles.
Many of his company did not utter a word about the contact with the enemy, better to not get shot by the Commissar, and none said anything about the proposal given to them. In the end the man thinks he was the only one to utter the name, his curiosity having gotten the better of him, and how glad he is that it had for the god had come to him, the meeting so real and tangible that to this day he still has not seen its like again. Now he only whispers to his servant, guides him in the quest to free the oppressed and bring about true choice to the masses, but these whispers were enough.
The man cuts his thoughts on his past short, he has a schedule to keep, thus he now approach's his new and enlightened friend, it took a number of months to convince the man before him, but reluctant as he was his eyes were opened to the truth. He knows that the planet must be free from Imperial oppression, and he has the means to do so, at least for city-32. The underhive rebels and mutants were just the vanguard of the rebellion, now the true war for the planet would begin.
He nears his friend and clasps him amiably on the shoulder; his friend was dressed in his military garb, quite immaculate, yet simple for one in his position. Epaulets complimenting the simple drab olive of the PDF colors, a few modest medals and accolades upon his chest, he had fought in a few resource wars to earn those, or so he had said.
"Governor, it is time, my fellows and I have provided the path, it is up to you to tread it, so give the order, the time for the true liberation of Tartarius is at hand," the agent of chaos announces his words with pride and confidence. Pride because he has shown the man before him the truth and he will soon liberate his people, confidence because he knows the man before him will, because not only is his friend a true believer, but because the true god has told him he would through the whispers.
The agent's friend nods, and then he walks over to his head General and relays the order, the General simply nods, and with that simple act the liberation of the planet begins. The agent has precious little time to waste; soon the Imperial Guard that has come to quell the rebellions will find the true rebels at their back.
When that time comes and it will be soon the agent wishes to be there with the liberators, fighting against those that would oppress this planet and its people. perhaps he will find a few among the corpse worshippers worthy enough to hear the truth and become enlightened like himself and his fellows… or maybe he would just killed them in the name of freedom, time would tell.
POV: Jericus/third person
The coordinated attacks had happened early in the day cycle, roughly eighty-five percent of PDF forces in city-32 launching major offensives against Imperial Guard forces. Luckily for the Guard their positions had been fortified heavily from the get-go and most sectors were able to repel the surprise attacks. Still the PDF traitors along with the re-emerging rebel forces are now fighting the Guard to a standstill.
Attempting to gain a better advantage Colonel K-52 had decided to send grenadiers into enemy lines to disrupt any further attempts at breaking Imperial footholds in the southern sectors of city-32. Hoarfell scouting elements were conjoined to grenadier fireteams to help with assessment of enemy movement, disposition, and strongpoint's.
In the moment all S-1049 could think about was the hard-rounds and lasfire of traitor PDF and rebel forces peppering the wall he was now hiding behind, and his earlier assessment of PDF troopers being sloppy in comparison to the Korps while not entirely incorrect was now being tested. While they may not have been as well trained as the Korps, cunning as the Hoarfell, or tenacious as the unhinged Randon, fighting them was a night and day difference from fighting the seemingly undisciplined and ragtag rebel forces.
They were disciplined and very motivated, fighting for your home will do that for you, and they were fighting the Guard for control of the city; at the moment a squad of PDF troopers numbering some fifteen as well as about a half-a-dozen rebels laid siege to the hastily fortified position of combined Death Korps grenadiers and Hoarfell scouts numbering around a dozen all told. S-1049 tried to snap off a few quick shots at the rebel positions, but the amount of return fire forced him back into cover. Overall the situation was not looking good for the Imperials, pinned as they were in a dilapidated restaurant.
The rockcrete front was the only thing saving them so far from being completely annihilated by the incoming fire; luckily the PDF and rebels didn't have any heavy weapons with them. S-1049 looked over to S-1050 and noticed she wasn't faring any better in the situation, the Hoarfell men, and women he hadn't really gotten to know too well, but two of them were snipers and one the sole field-medic the joint force had on hand.
Said Hoarfell medic was doggedly trying to save F-888's life from a severe looking thigh wound; with the amount of blood it didn't look good. Currently Watchmaster B-63 had command of the joint squad and he was surveying the battle, even though he wore a mask S-1049 could tell by his body language that he didn't like whatever he thought their odds were. S-1049 didn't like it, he'd been simply taking direction ever since he'd been conscripted into the Korps back on Surris, not having that direction worried him, his superior not having the answer like they said he would in training made him angry.
"Sir, what will you have these troopers do," S-1049 yelled out to Watchmaster B-63, his question punctuated by a hard-round finally punching through the cover behind him, the rockcrete wall finally having been chipped away. B-63 seemed to glance over at him for a moment, pointedly looking at the disintegrating cover, and then back further into the restaurant they were in, taking note of the stairs in the back, unfortunately no back exit, it had been blocked off by fallen debris.
"S-1050, troopers Haller, and Wilhelm see if you lot can't get to the second floor of this place and use the high-ground against them, I don't think I should have to tell you, but look for and eliminate officers, otherwise targets of opportunity. S-1049 help Medicae Harding get F-888 to the back of the building, and then get back up here. You me, and trooper Spores are gonna try and get around their flank once we hopefully get them pinned with sniper fire, B-80, F-920, and the rest of you Hoarfell boys stay here to keep 'em focused on this building while we try 'an get around. Everyone keep an ear on yer vox-beads and relay any enemy movements you think'll be trouble. Alright, now let's go troopers," everyone gave a nod in the affirmative and went about with their orders.
S-1049 and S-1050 cast a glance at each other, S-1049 nodded to her, answering their silent conversation; she returned the gesture before heading with the Hoarfell snipers to the back of the building toward the stairs. They went off half-crouched and scurrying quickly to present as little a target as possible. S-1050 had just recently made the grade of designated marksman for their grenadier fireteam, which earned her the right to carry a longlas, requisitioned from a quartermaster that very morning before they headed out, Watchmaster B-63 had been very insistent with the PDF betrayal and everything else happening.
S-1049 stolidly went about the task of helping Medicae Harding get F-888 to a safer area, slinging his standard Lucius pattern lasgun and making his way over to the wounded man and medicae.
"Okay, this'll be tricky, we're gonna have to move him without any of us getting shot." Harding stated with grim humor, "I'll take the shoulders, you'll get his legs, it's important we keep his legs above his head angled up, you can do that right?"
Harding's words were not meant to question S-1049's ability, nor were they said unkindly he was merely concerned for the suffering man he had to keep alive.
"This trooper won't let its comrade down," S-1049 responded.
"That's what I like to hear, let's get your friend patched up then," S-1049 nodded in affirmation and then got into position at F-888's legs, gripping each ankle by the shin guards the man had strapped firmly onto his legs. Harding likewise took position at F-888's head, his arms under the wounded man's armpits solidly.
"Okay on three we go for it, remember legs above his head." S-1049 nodded, Harding nodded back, "okay, ready one, two, three!"
The two scurried across the open floor of the rundown restaurant, keeping as many tables between them and the front window as they could. Finally they made it to the back and gently as their adrenaline fueled bodies could they laid F-888 down. Harding checked F-888's pulse and gave him a once over, the wound while still bleeding a little was bound tight.
"He's still among the living, now go end this fight while I try to keep him here." Harding stated as he began to further treat the wound. S-1040 gave yet another nod before heading back in a crouch run toward his previous position, readying his lasgun as he did so.
"Ready and willing sir," S-1049 stated as he got into cover beside Watchmaster B-63, chips of rockcrete seemed to punctuate his words as they were blown out of place by hard-rounds.
"Ditto sir," trooper Spores replied from the Watchmaster's left. S-1049 noted the slight nervous twitch of Spores left eye as she said this, over all he couldn't blame her, his stomach was twisting up over the impending counter attack, and his hand was shaking something awful. Like all Hoarfell troopers Spores wore their odd cloak-like uniform, scarf looped loosely around her neck, and a pair of goggles.
B-63 simply gave them a nod before calling out orders into his vox-bead for suppressing fire from the snipers who were now situated on the second floor. High whine-cracks of longlas' reverberated through the air, enemy fire paused as the PDF, and rebels took cover at the unexpected counter-fire.
B-63 was through the entrance in a microsecond, S-1049 and Spores hot on his heels, the opportunity would be brief, and even as they neared cover in the adjacent building across the narrow street the enemy had resumed their onslaught, though more cautiously now out of fear of catching a lasbolt through the temple. Still the cacophony from their weapons overshadowed the meek by comparison counter-fire coming from the rest of the imperials.
B-63 was panting as he leaned against the wall of the building, all three guardsmen out of site of the opposing rebels. "Looks like luck's on our side, I don't think they've noticed us just yet."
"This trooper suggests we change that sir," S-1049 replied steadily.
"You're starting to speak my language trooper, but let's get a better position first. We'll go through the back exit and catch 'em from their left." B-63 said motioning to the shop they were currently using for cover.
S-1049 nodded taking position at the entrance of the shop Spores to his left both waiting for B-63 to give them the go ahead to secure the inside. The Watchmaster gave him the signal after he went to the opposite side of the entrance; they went in the muzzles of their lasguns leading the way. Their fields of aim played over the left and right sides of the interior starting from the corners and working their way throughout the space, B-63 came through after them doing his own quick sweep of the room but trusting his subordinates to do the bulk of the work.
"Clear," S-1049 reported.
"Clear on my end too," Spores echoed. The trio proceeded through the building, some sort of department store in better days, and the various wares strewn all over due to earlier looting and general chaos created by the initial insurrections.
B-63 paused a moment, listening in on his vox-bead. "Say again B-80, there's interference." After another moment all he got in response was more garble.
"Damn, alright you two be ready, bugger's are up to something."
They went toward the back following the exit signs until they came to the back entrance. B-63 covered the door and motioned for S-1049 to do the honors, and without hesitation he practically threw the door open.
None of them expected it to slam into a body on the other side, or for there to be four more PDF traitors to be behind that first one. B-63's reflexes were moved by his rigorous training to respond in an instant, gunning down two of the men with brilliant red bolts from his lasgun, his form perfect two shots to center mass apiece. Spores sprayed down another, and finally S-1049 thrust his bayonet into the throat of the first he had knocked to the ground. With a quick twist and pull he then thrust once more into the traitor's chest to finish him off with haste, cutting off the dying man's gurgling death cry.
The three paused, afraid they may have woken up the hornets nest, but to their relief after a few passing seconds they were satisfied that that wasn't the situation.
"Seems like the PDF'ers had the same idea we did, that one that you stuck was a sergeant, probably what B-80 was trying to warn us about," the Watchmaster pointed out promptly. "Come on we have to get this done before they realize their boys didn't get through."
The trio quickly continued onward, going through the back alley behind the building; pausing at the entrance of the alley B-63 carefully peered out scanning the surroundings and spotting the enemies left flank, their target. B-63 gave the signal and the two made a quick dash across the empty street in a crouch run to the other side, they were stopped once they hit the cover of the rockcrete wall of the building across from the department store.
The PDF and rebels were too busy attacking their comrades to notice them. Creeping towards the edge of the building they were against the trio was now a mere five meters from their targets. B-63 did an impromptu headcount of the enemy forces.
"Seems those boys we ran into were with them, which means less targets, plus seems our snipers took a few themselves, I'd say about ten bodies all told, and we've got six frags between us all. I'd like to not waste that many on these scum, so let's try and paste 'em all with three." Watchmaster B-63 stated, and hint of odd enthusiasm in his voice. S-1049 noted that the prospect of blowing someone up apparently appealed to him greatly, especially if they had his men pinned.
"Hell yeah," Spores said enthusiastically.
"Good answer, what about you S-1049," B-63 questioned.
"This trooper wholeheartedly agrees Watchmaster," S-1049 replied.
"Atta' boy," B-63 said a grin evident in his tone. "Well don't just stand there troopers, let's give these traitors what they deserve."
S-1049 gave his watchmaster a nod and then primed his first grenade, standard issue fragmentation, Spores right behind him readying her own. The two waited for the go ahead as B-63 primed his own grenade; at the signal the three guardsmen threw the deadly explosives in an arc aiming for them to land behind the enemy. S-1049 counted down time till detonation in his head, at around the two second mark the grenades went off. Safely behind the wall of the building the guardsmen were spared the deadly shrapnel which tore into the unwitting backs of their enemies.
"Time to pick off the survivors," B-63 stated swiftly rounding the corner to survey the scene, S-1049 followed to the right of his watchmaster hugging the wall and keeping his aim on where the enemy had been. Coming upon the sight it was apparent that very few had survived, of the original twenty-one enemy troopers only three remained alive, and even then just barely. They groaned in pain, muscle shredded by shrapnel, nerve-endings flaring, and ear drums burst. Being merciful the Korpsmen ended the unlucky survivor's pain with three well placed lasbolts S-1049 killed one while B-63 took the other two, Spores watched on, not with disapproval, but not wishing to participate.
They proceeded to clear the area as best they could with only the three of them, once satisfied B-63 activated his vox-bead. "Hostiles eliminated, S-1049 and I are heading back to you now, see ya in a minute." Another garbled response followed his; the watchmaster merely shook his head in annoyance.
Jogging back toward their comrades the pair took care whilst crossing the streets, they didn't need to get spotted by more hostiles B-63 thought with venom, not with F-888 injured as he was. They made it back to find B-80, along with the other two Hoarfell trooper's weapons ready peering out into the street.
"Where's F-920," B-63 questioned immediately, when he gave orders he expected them to be followed, and F-920 wasn't where he was supposed to be.
"B-63, sir F-888 didn't make it. After we saw you had neutralized the enemy I let F-920 go to pay his respects." B-80 answered solemnly
"Oh," B-63 paused the moment washing over him. "Stay in position, we're clear for now, but let me know first thing if that changes. Spores, S-1049 stick with me, I may need you to subdue F-920."
Walking toward the back of the restaurant where S-1049 remembered having left F-888 didn't take long, but once the sight of what awaited became visible S-1049 was hit like a punch to the gut. In terms of time he hadn't known the two men on the ground in front of him very long, however fighting beside someone will make you feel closer than you may have been, and he knew that though he would miss F-888 that for F-920 this must be unbearable. From what he had gathered the two men had known each other since their own training and for quite a few campaigns after that. They were as close to brothers as humanly possible without having to share blood.
F-920 kneeled over his fallen comrade, lasgun dropped to his right, holding the hand of his fallen brother tightly in both of his own. Harding stood off to the side viewing the scene with a detached sympathy one had to have to be a field-medic, especially one that had failed in his duty to a comrade. He saw the approach of the watchmaster and went to intercept ten feet from the grieving man.
"Sir I'm terribly sorry, a hard-round basically cut his femoral artery in half, it retracted too far in for me to get at in time."
"That's all right trooper," B-63 said lowly and began to walk past him. Harding intercepted again hand of the watchmaster's chest-plate.
"Sir with all due respect I would let the man grieve, I've seen this too many times, he's not in the right frame of mind to…" B-63 held up his hand to cut the field-medic off.
"I'm well aware trooper, but guardsmen can't afford to grieve, not until the fighting's done." His attempts ignore Harding let the trio pass by without anymore trouble, going to join the others at the front.
S-1049 stopped about five feet from the scene, Spores doing the same whilst B-63 continued toward the kneeling man. From this distance S-1049 could barely make out the muffled sounds of a man's sadness, stifled sniffles which told the story of earlier sobs now held in check. He watched as B-63 stooped barely a foot away from F-920 to his side and consciously on his right side where the watchmaster could easily kick his lasgun away should he try and use it in his unstable state.
"F-920, you know we have to get moving, I need to know you're with us one-hundred percent here," B-63 said not unsympathetically.
A sharp intake of breath came from F-920 and for a second S-1049 though he was about have a go at the watchmaster as he saw the man's hand clench. But the moment passed as F-920 let out a shuddering breath, he gave F-888's limp hand one final squeeze before laying it across the dead man's chest gently. He then reached slowly for his discarded lasgun, grabbing it, and securing the strap about his person standing up to his full height once he was satisfied.
"This trooper won't be at one-hundred percent sir, but it will not fail in its duty," F-920 stated haltingly. S-1049 noted his use of the third person; so far he had yet to hear any of the veteran grenadiers in his fire-squad refer to themselves in anything but the first.
B-63 put his hand firmly on F-920's shoulder. "Good enough korpsman, go up-front and keep B-80 some company," As B-63 withdrew his hand F-920 nodded smoothly and walked past them all with long seemingly confident strides. B-63 watched him go before activating his vox-bead. "S-1050, do you copy," a pause.
"Yes Watchmaster," came the reply, the interference now seemingly over at such close range.
"Good, get down here, back of the building, tell the others to come down with you but to take position at the front with everyone else."
"Understood sir, this trooper is on its way."
B-63 turned toward the pair behind him, "Spores go join the others we'll be moving out soon." The trooper nodded before turning smartly and heading away, S-1050 passed her as she came toward the scene.
"Troopers we'll need to secure F-888's gear, you two divide it evenly between yourselves, power-cells, lasgun, grenades, and filters, anything you deem vital. Leave his armor and uniform for the quartermasters," B-63 stated kneeling down and gingerly retrieving F-888's dog tags, taking one of the pair for himself and leaving the other for the quartermasters that would recover the body. "You've got three minutes to get it done, clear?"
"Clear sir," S-1049 and S-1050 responded in sync, B-63 nodded before walking away to join the rest of the squad. They got to their task as soon as the Watchmaster turned away, quickly stripping F-888's still form of power-packs, grenades, filters, and other useful pieces of kit. S-1050 took his lasgun and secured it cross her back concluding their objective, S-1049 stayed in place for a moment, and then unbidden his hand reached toward F-888's masked face.
"S-1049 leave it for the quartermasters," S-1050 stated clearly. His hand retracted mere inches from the mask; the motivation to take it off was still there though, to see if someone who's been in the 82nd as long as F-888 still has a face to put a name to. Logically he knows it's silly of him to think this, it's there just covered in metal and rubber, but S-1049 just can't shake the feeling, the itch to be positive about this. Standing up his decision is made, the itch remains unscratched, and he makes the sign of the Aquila with his hands, the appendages needing to move to erase the feeling of wanting to remove that lump of rubber and metal.
"Sweet God-Emperor forgive your servant his sins as he goes to your side, and remember… he was just a man," S-1049 recited the prayer for his fallen comrade quietly. "This trooper is sorry S-1050, let us go."
S-1050 watched him walk off, lingering for a moment. "That's okay Jericus," she whispered to herself. Making the sign of the Aquila for her dead comrade she turned sharply and quickly went after him. The two met up with the group shortly after, B-63 nodded subtly to them and they returned the gesture.
"Standard formation troopers, we've still got a mission to accomplish before the day is out, so let's not waste anymore time, move out." B-63 stated loud and clear.
S-1049, S-1050, Haller, and Wilhelm formed the rear of the group, B-80 and F-920 with Harding and another Hoarfell trooper in the middle, while B-63 took point with the Hoarfell scout specialist of the squad. They moved out of the restaurant onto the side walk keeping eyes on their designated zones to ensure enemy troopers weren't lurking around. Their column moving vaguely southward toward what B-63 deemed their primary objective, namely a transmission relayed from their elements further south.
Before being held up by the firefight they had been on their way to join up with their comrades who along with finding survivors of the 145th Randon and Adeptus Arbites had also been sent to take down the bridge that served as the main artery for the southern sector, currently four separate squads of joint Death Korps and Hoarfell were attempting to complete this objective. However, they were meeting stiff resistance and all available units had been instructed to assist them.
The bridge was the key to the southern sector without it the rebels and PDF would have no way of keeping their offensive line supplied and would then falter leaving them two options, push onward and be annihilated by the main elements of the Imperial Guard, or retreat.
With it destroyed the Imperials could then focus on getting to the source of enemy command in the north and storm the main spire which according to command would end the conflict in its tracks. If they cut off the head of the snake the body would wither, intelligence had come through, and they knew the Lord Governor had started this. He and his generals were all in one place, the central spire, and safest place to be in city-32 at the moment. But soon they would be bringing the light of the Emperor to the dark tower.
A/N: Thanks for reading ladies and gentlemen, kindly leave a review. They do motivate me so, any response, one of last chapters reviews brought about a progressive change, include your input, be heard! Suggest changes, characters for future installments, anything you want aside from tirades of curses, unless they have a specified positive message at the end of them and are constructive. Anyway, rant done thanks again and see you next week.
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