Fate is like a strange, unpopular restaurant, filled with odd waiters who bring you things you didn't ask for and don't always like."- Lemony Snicket
"Aye, how much longer d'we have ta trek through this damn wall of green before we reach the outpost d'ya reckon?" Schmidt complained for exactly the fifth time—Jericus had counted—since they had left behind the Capitan and met with their guide at the edge of the Pthume jungle. They had been walking for over an hour at least, and though Jericus was no fan of trudging through such a dense and unfamiliar setting he would endure it quietly at least, but this was the first time he had ever seen so many trees in his life!
"Our guide Aerith had stated several times that it would be half a day's trek to Orange river outpost legionnaire, I fail to see why you must prattle on about your discomfort given you knew of our timetable." Virtanen's predictable response cut through the chatter of animals and insects. Looking at Schmidt Jericus noticed that the man seemed ready to respond back before he clamped his mouth shut at the last second, something unusual given their customary routine he had noticed since working with the two.
They took up the rear guard as seemed to become the usual as of late, looking ahead he saw Dauntless conversing with the guide he had hired for the duration of their jungle exploration. Aerith seemed like most of the locals on Headstone, dressed in a mismash of guard-like fatigues and leather, the leather mostly for padding to fight against the sometimes pointy and sharp undergrowth of the Pthume. Her dark eyes and hair placed her distinctly in the normal range in terms of looks along with her average build and complexion specked with patches of dark skin, a minor mutation of the Headstone populace as they had all come to learn.
She seemed to halfheartedly listen and respond to the Inquisitor's questions as she kept them on the sometimes overgrown path occasionally cutting down encroaching vines, leaves, and branches with her machete as she did so. Jericus had to wonder what Dauntless was talking with her so intently, on his part at least, about given that he was always trying to piece together the minor details.
Jessmuck was with the Inquisitor too along with B-63, Kerelia, Sothy, and Kaede who all either seemed disinterested, or occupied with their own thoughts. Kerchak, Walton, and Len took up the middle of the formation with the three storm-troopers. Next was S-360, and S-548 who were given the task of watching over and directing Aryn who was simply plowing through the brush.
These musings and observations were derailed though as he stumbled over some undergrowth throwing his focus to the task of not face-planting into the ground.
He heard Schmidt and Gunther give little snorts of amusement as he righted himself avoiding the full fall and merely half-tripping instead.
"Aye, an' yer supposed ta be a close combat specialist," Gunther snorted with the usual mischievous tone.
"Not very graceful looking, I'll grant, but he did wipe the floor with ya on the training deck Gunther. Ya migh' want ta reconsider insulting the man lest you make him agitated an' risk yer health." Schmidt joined in on the conversation.
"Agitated? These new boys and girls we got are so mellow I doubt an ork Nob bearing down on them while they were stark naked would get 'em in a tizzy," Gunther retorted smirk still on his face.
"Not a singular angry outburst, but perhaps a prolonged, planned act of retribution done on his behalf might dissuade you from your comments." Fenria's voice stated calmly and evenly.
"Ah, see Angel here is more than willing ta stand by her lad, ya better tread careful Gunther I haven't known 'em long but this lot doesn't seem ta make idle threats," Schmidt added on for the sake of the message. Gunther for his part seemed to eye Fenria for the moment trying to gauge if she was serious or not.
"Aye, ya may be righ' about tha' I'll be takin' back my comments then," Gunther stated having come to his conclusion that the Surrin woman may indeed not be making an idle threat.
"S-1050, you are one of the few people who have actually gotten that legionaire to hold his tongue, for that you hold even more of my respect than before," Virtanen added with her customary high-born delivery.
Fenria seemed to actually take a bit of pride in that given the way he noticed her stand a little straighter. Jericus wondered if there was a chance she may be making a friend in the usually haughty Lieutenant. Regardless of that though he was surprised at the way she had jumped to his defense. It wasn't so much the fact that she had as it was the circumstances, and her choice to do so regarding something so inconsequential.
Then again, with the way things had been developing between them lately he supposed it seemed natural. Being out of the Korps as they were things were less strict and regimented, they had their own room aboard the Ipsum for Omnissiah's sake! If that wasn't enough it was rather spacious and had its own living area and kitchen. It had been the first time since Jericus had been conscripted that he had felt so normal and dare he say it at home.
He had to imagine that Fenria must have felt much the same and that it could account for the both of them being more open around each other than before. Add to that the blatant camaraderie presented by most of Dauntless' retinue including the Inquisitor himself, and it was a recipe for thawing forcibly frozen human tendencies. It was strange to think that he could feel almost as content with his life now as he had when his family had still been alive and he still had a place on his homeworld.
Clearing his mind of such optimistic thoughts he again focused on the trek, treacherous ground would be the death of him as sure as any enemy in this jungle according to the briefing they had. Looking ahead he saw Aerith freeze, her face contemplative as she listened intently to the area around them. Looking to Jessmuck the same look could be seen on the big Catachan's face with his usual feral excitement.
Everyone else stopped moving too, soldier instincts kicking in when they noticed their two resident jungle experts take pause. Jericus noticed it then himself, the constant chatter of fauna around them had abruptly stopped. The usual indication that something was afoot. Seconds later a series of low rumbling chirps and clicks were heard in the silence.
"Everybody form up, back to back!" Aerith suddenly shouted drawing the hand-canon holstered at her hip and readying her machete in her other hand. Dauntless immediately took to her order taking up place at her blindspot and getting everyone who had been waiting for his command to act as well. Training allowed them to easily slide into a defensive formation where no one's back was exposed without someone else having them covered.
Jericus and Fenria faced one direction while Schmidt and Virtanen took the other, leaving Gunther to cover the formation's immediate rear. Weapons were now pointed in every conceivable direction save directly above them. Now it was just a waiting game as they began to hear rustles in the brush as more than a few large sounding shapes became barely visible through the thick foliage.
From what Jericus could see whatever animals were surrounding them were about as large as Aryn. The shapes also moved incredibly quiet and fast for their size zipping this way and that as though trying to confuse them. He had to admit that it was working somewhat as after a few moments he couldn't decide where any particular sound was coming from. A pack hunter then, and a smart one if their current behaviour was anything to go by.
"Keep your eyes on your area, you can't let them catch you unaware or you're done for." Aerith coached as the shapes and sounds got closer. Now Jericus could see flashes of what was coming for them, scaley, but sparsely feathered skin, hellishly big and sharp looking beaks, and large taloned feet.
"The warp are these critters," Gunther let out as he caught his own look at their stalkers.
What could only be called a warbling roar cut off any response as one of the things charged straight at them out of the brush. It went straight for S-360, and S-548 who were covering the same area Jericus and Fenria were. Seeing it Jericus had a mere moment to take in the frightening visage. It's 'beak' seemed to split four ways as four eyes focused on its prey, black scaley skin seemed to quiver as it's few 'feathers' flared.
The sound to hellguns cut through the noise of the beast's roar as S-360 and S-548 blasted its charging form. Jericus watched as light energy slammed into the beats hide taking chunks from it and making it squawk in pain. Recoiling from the unexpected pain the hellish avian turned immediately and darted off back into the foliage.
"Emperor's toilet!" Schmidt exclaimed after the beast had disappeared.
"Keep your guards up, that was a probe, they're not done yet!" Aerith exclaimed loudly.
"You make it sound as though these beasts can think," Kerchak yelled out incredulously. Aerith didn't bother to answer as the intensity of the predators movements increased, shapes practically blurring as they sped up. It continued for a number of minutes before the creatures seemed to simultaneously explode from the wall of forest. Weapon fire was just as instant as everyone began to unload at the animals besetting them.
Jericus concentrated burst-fire as he sighted in from one moving target to another, but the creatures were tough, taking damage and shrugging it off despite some horrific looking wounds. It also didn't help that their movements were frighteningly coordinated as before even as they took damage.
One finally broke through the wall of weapon-fire, unfortunately the beast came face-to-beak with Jessmuck. In an off-hand manner the Catachan chopped the large avian head clean from it's long thick neck with his fang, the movement had been so fast that Jericus coundn't tell when he had even drawn the knife. He quickly focused back on his own area blasting an open maw barely two meters from him, the momentum caused the body to continue toward him. Stepping out of the way at the last moment he let the large corpse crash to the ground.
From behind he heard the crash of body meeting body, Schmidt let out a yelp, and before Jericus knew it he was being knocked over too. He could feel Schmidt's weight on his back pinning him to the ground. Glancing over his shoulder was hard, but he caught a glimpse of the situation. One of the beasts had Schmidt pinned, it's beak snapping as the legionnaire held it back by it's neck desperately.
"Would someone get this squaker offa' me by the throne!" Schmidt yelled out indignantly, even as the snapping beak got ever closer to his face. The sound of a las-bolt smacking into flesh answered his plea for help, the beast slumped forward, all fight taken from it and a large hole in its head.
"You now owe me legionnaire," Virtanen yelled out with no small amount of satisfaction in her voice.
"Aye, save it for later lass," he grunted as he pushed the giant avian off him and Jericus. Standing quickly thanks to Fenria's help Jericus re-took his place in the formation. Hardly having time to breath he snapped off a few more shots into yet another charging beast, downing it with several new holes in its breast.
Once the bodies began to pile up the creatures began to noticeably slow their assault, squawking almost indignantly as they finally decided to cut their losses and disappear back into the green. They stayed in formation for several moments afterward, everyone waiting for Aerith's word. Jericus noticed Schmidt and Gunther fidgeting uncomfortably as the wait persisted, even Fenria seemed a little anxious. He could sympathize.
"It's done, they won't be bothering us, not after the thrashing we just gave them," Aerith finally spoke kicking a corpse near her as she did.
"Some vicious little critters you have in this bush, anything else we should be worrying about?" Jessmuck's tone betrayed his excitement at the prospect of something even more dangerous.
"Yes, but if we run into it then we won't be standing our ground like we did with the chirpers here," the Headstone woman replied ominously. "We should get going, the bodies will attract things you don't want to meet."
"I wouldn't say that," Jessmuck grinned.
"In-spite of your eagerness Corporal I say we follow Aerith's advice and get going," Dauntless said quickly before the Headstone woman could get out the scathing remark her mouth was set to make. Instead she snorted and began to once again clear the path before them.
The group fell back into their formation, training and instinct taking precedent especially after the attack. Jericus sighed to himself as the trudge continued, by his estimate it would be another six hours or so before they made it to the outpost. Well, six hours if they weren't hampered by anymore creatures of the Pthume. As another vine snagged his foot and caused yet another stumble he was becoming aware that he may not be the 'outdoor' type of person.
Jessmuck can keep his jungles, and Headstone could keep its too. Give him barren flat-lands
and icy cold any day of the week. He was starting to miss the urban theaters more and more, especially… Omnissiah damn it not again! Jericus Quint, survivor of Tartarius, Endurholdgun, crazed heretics, and Inquisitorial agent had just tripped face-first into…well he hoped it was mud. The smell was not leaning toward his favor.
B-52 Looked to his new batch of trainees, the sight churned his stomach a little, for more than a few reasons. First off, there were only nine of them in total, he had not been able to convince anyone since Talima to make the mistake of signing the papers. Two, none save for the former mercenary and working girl seemed to legitimately want to be there. And three, he had to turn them into crack Korpsmen in less than a week and a half, maybe three weeks if he was lucky.
Those on high had looked at his rather pathetic number of recruits, then they looked at his training record. He didn't like to stroke his ego often, but B-52 knew that his trainees on average turned out quite well, his last batch notwithstanding. So what did that mean for the unfortunate group before him?
Simple, it meant they were getting a promotion ahead of time. They were being groomed to be a new squad of grenadiers, probationary of course, but his purpose was to make an effective, expendable force to conduct raids once the enemy got around to siege the city. So, in effect he was training grenadiers… and since there were only nine of them he could actually get them up to snuff fairly quickly. Or so he hoped.
Right now they stood before him in basic battle dress uniform. Regulation Korps boots, gray tee-shirt, and cargo-pants. Specialized training in full combat gear would have to wait, the quartermasters were being stingy being that they were stockpiling for the inevitable siege. It didn't matter, he could improvise.
"Alright, you wretches. Today you are dead to your world, you no longer serve to defend it, but the whole of our glorious Imperium. I will forge you useless things into instruments worthy of the Korps." A little more uplifting than his usual opening speeches, but for these recruits and given his time period B-52 felt it would motivate them, at least better than the usual spirit breaking tirades the Korps favored.
"First and foremost, from this point on you shall no longer refer to yourselves in the first person. If asked your name you shall respond 'This trooper,' followed by your designation, or 'it'. You shall call me Watchmaster when you wish to address me, and only once you have been addressed or given permission may you speak." Now he walked up and down the line of people, looking into each of their eyes as he went.
The two vagrants that had joined hoping for a better life. A brother and sister, their designations H-70, and H-71 respectively. They had the looks of two people who realized they bit off more than they could chew. Next were the three former gangers, two boys and a girl, designations H-72, H-73, and H-74. Each was young, yet all three held the hard look a hard life brought on, tough and able, but each had a defiant streak. That would have to go…
Being drunk when they had decided to sign up the two men designated H-75, and H-76 still seemed to be working off the most epic hangover B-52 had ever seen. Their eyes told him they were just beginning to realized the skack they had just stepped in. Talima came next, or rather H-77, she held a hesitant gaze with him, luckily he could still sense the same underlying determination as when she had signed up.
Finally the former mercenary, an older man, though as fit and able looking as any korpsman. He had the same steely eyes of many a lifelong guardsman as B-52 had met. He would take the least work to train physically, but his prior experience could make him more difficult to condition mentally. Time would certainly tell, but back to the present.
"When I give you an order I expect it to be followed, without hesitation, no matter what it may be. You will find that I am a stern but eminently fair instructor," B-52 paused for effect. "Do you wretches understand me?"
"Yes Watchmaster!" the chorused reply was staggered, H-78 led the response, the others following his example.
"Not good enough, we shall go for a run, afterward I will see if you improve," B-52 stated evenly, he watched as they stood. "That was an order wretches, I will set the pace, keep up or suffer the consequences."
He set off not a moment after, ears sharp enough to detect the sound of nine more feet hitting the ground behind him. The training area the 82nd had been allowed was some old city park the mayor had allowed to be converted into training grounds and barracks. He reckoned a few dozen laps around the five kilometer perimeter would show him their mettle.
Countless years of training on worlds with heavy gravity, and drastic conditions left him in what could be considered just one step down from being an astartes. He knew they wouldn't be able to keep pace with him for long, not with their normal mindsets, excepting H-78 he was just waiting for them to start to slow.
"You keep this pace wretches, you keep it and you don't stop until I say so." He called out as he fell back a little to the end of the group. H-78 was at the lead as expected, the former gangers behind him, followed by the drunks, then the street rats, and Talima brought up the rear. That was disappointing, though not far off his expectations.
It was at about three kilometers when Talima and the street rats began to fall behind. Talima still at the back, he decided to give the first push. "That is not the pace I set trooper, why are you slowing. I did not give you permission to take it easy."
"Sorry Watchmaster, I'm trying my best-uhh!"
His fist caught her in the solar plexus, she was down two steps later as her diaphragm tried to recover and her lungs struggled for air. Collapsing to the dusty ground she drew the attention of the others who all stopped save for H-78.
"You are not a person wretch, you do not refer to yourself as such. As for your pathetic excuses I have no time for them, you do not try, you do. If you cannot keep pace I will simply motivate you until you can." B-52 stated, turning to the rest of them he continued. "When did I say the rest of you could stop, get going, or do I have to motivate you wretches as well?"
They turned, some more hesitant than others, but they left all the same. Just more to work on. Back to the problem at hand, he watched as H-77 slowly got to her feet. The determination was still in her eyes even as she gasped for breath, even through the shock.
"Are you fit to continue trooper, that was quite a trip." He questioned sternly.
"This trooper is fit to continue Watchmaster," she choked out. He smiled under his mask, she was quick to notice and fix her mistakes.
"Then let us catch up with the others trooper, double time it," he shot right back taking off after the others. He could hear her struggling behind as he quickened the pace to reach the others.
"You'll have to do better than that trooper. If I can run in full combat attire, and while wasting this much breath then you should have no problem keeping up with me in light gear." He heard the pace behind him increase. Regular if heavy breathing could be heard, and soon he was seeing her go by him faster than before. He picked up the pace, getting even with her, breathing easy despite the extra exertion.
"Well, at this rate you might catch up with the rest of the wretches H-77," B-52 began to increase his own pace pulling ahead of her by a margin of feet. "However, I feel we ought to catch up sooner, otherwise they might get too lax in my absence."
When she again caught up to him, and still kept up his admittedly quick pace, B-52 would be lying if he said he wasn't impressed. As they ran the rest of his batch was coming up quickly, and soon he along with H-77 passed them coming to the front of the group. At that point he slowed it down to what he had them doing previously, it wouldn't do to have them all drop dead on the first day. He didn't have a few hundred more recruits to replace them.
"Well I must say wretches, one of you has given me confidence that this is not a waste of my time. We've got quite a ways to go, were I any of you I wouldn't slow down, I won't be as forgiving on the second wretch to do so." He checked his chronometer as he fell back again to the middle of the group. "Still quite a bit of time to go let's keep at it."
He ran them around for a few hours just to get the point dug in deep. Stopping only when he felt they were all but spent, ordering them to stand at attention, in numerical order, once they reached the point where they had started. Then he began his favorite initiation test, the one that told him all he needed to know about each individual. B-63 had told him about it, and how effective it could be.
"Alright wretches pair off, being that there's an odd number of you, one of you shall be with me. Make your choices quickly, whoever is left over will be with me. Get to it." He called out to the group who immediately began to break up rather predictably. H-78 walked directly up to him, as he had expected, choosing for the others, protecting the others. The street-rats, H-70 and H-71 paired up. Next came the H-72 and H-73, the two male gangers, which left H-74 with H-77. Lastly the two drunks H-75 and H-76.
"Now you shall all fight, give no quarter to your opponent. If I see any of you going easy on the other you shall face the consequences, anything goes, just try not to cause permanent damage. On my command you shall all begin, and you will not stop until I address your pair personally." He looked at each one of them, taking in the hesitant looks. "H-78, you and I shall have our spar after the others, I would like to see how each of them does."
"Understood Watchmaster," the former merc intoned.
B-52 looked away from him and back to the rest of them. "Begin."
It was no surprise to see the two ganger boys set upon each other like rabid animals. Their fight quickly devolved into a ground game. If he had thought H-77 would hold back, well he needn't have, H-74 was really laying into the girl. Rabid and ruthless like the rest of her former ganger compatriots. The vicious nature of her opponent gave her no choice but to fight back just as hard, or get annihilated.
H-75 and H-76 were making a good go of it, they looked as inexperienced as could be, simply standing there and trading blows to the face like pugilists, but at least they weren't holding back. That left H-70 and H-71, the brother and sister had made the mistake of choosing each other as their opponents. He could tell halfhearted fighting when he saw it, they were hardly making contact, resorting to some pathetic looking grappling, it was obvious they were trying to put on a show, and hoping he would not notice.
Too bad for them, he always did. Like most of his punishment it was without warning, the brother was the younger of the two, B-52 hit him first. A hard front-kick into his side at hip height, it knocked the small teenager right to the ground and out of the loose fake grapple of his sister. He didn't leave time for the girl to look shocked, his left elbow came across her right cheek. The blow sent her likewise reeling, clutching her face as she stumbled off to the side.
If his other trainees noticed they ignored the scene, good, that meant they were learning. Quicker than he would have given such a group credit for too. Back to the matter at hand though, H-70 and H-71 were both looking at him, from the ground H-70 looked like a frightened rabbit, H-71's expression was mostly hidden by her hand, but her eye's held an anger in them.
"What were you wretches doing? I said to fight, this isn't family roughhousing, you are fighting an enemy. They will not be merciful, you must do whatever it takes to win." He stared at both of them. "H-70 get up, H-71 quit holding your face, it was a light hit."
He waited for them to stand straight and face him, it may be too early for them to fight each other. It was one thing for random strangers, or even friends to fight, family though…that would be hard for just about anyone. He'd be forgiving, just this once. Looking back and forth at them yet again he assessed them, H-71's face told it all, she was angry, angry he hurt her brother, and angry she couldn't stop it. H-70 had lost his frightened rabbit look and likewise had rage in his eye's.
"Alright troopers, fight me," he said it easily, his tone as casual as if he had been asking about the day. Their anger faded for a moment, replaced by brief confusion.
"Must I repeat myself?"
That set them off, H-71 was the first to attack, clearly the more aggressive of the two. It was a wild hay-maker, the swinging blows were inaccurate and ineffective. B-52 caught the second of her series of strikes locking her arm, and unbalancing her precarious footing by placing his left foot behind her own. From the corner of his vision he saw H-70 winding up for a hefty looking punch. If it connected it would certainly hurt quite a bit…
Waiting for when his momentum would not allow him to stop B-52 swung H-71 around to shield his own body. A loud crack was heard as H-70's fist connected with his sisters jaw. The blow sent her to the ground as B-52 let go of her on impact, H-70's horrified look told him all he needed to know. B-52 went in for an uppercut to the young boy's chin, it practically lifted him off the ground.
Still on his feet and reeling he desperately put his hands up to try and defend himself. The Watchmaster wasn't having any of that though, driving a decisive heel kick to the boys groin he doubled him over. Finally B-52 finished the youth off, grabbing his head with both hands and driving his knee right into the youth's nose. The resounding crack told him all he needed to know, he let go allowing H-70 to fall to the ground face first.
He backed up a step and glanced around at H-71 to make sure she was still floored. Luckily she was, it had been stupid for him to have taken his eye's off her. Could have been a real nasty surprise, as she was though, he needn't have worried. Both siblings on the ground unable to continue fighting he motioned for the Quartermaster he had waiting to treat their injuries. Both would be sporting broken, or at least fractured jaws, and H-70 would need his nose reset.
They were, impressively still conscious though, so that was a point in their favor. Which meant they were relatively tough if nothing else. He dusted his hands off nonchalantly and walked away from their hurting forms.
"That is how the enemy will fight. Next time I expect both of you to remember that, and fight your opponent accordingly." The Quartermaster had made her way over by that point and began to check over her charges. Moments later another wet crack was heard as she reset H-70's nose, followed by the boy's low moan at the pain. "Quartermaster, get these two to the medical tents, I expect them to be returned to their barracks tonight, fit for training tomorrow."
"Yes Watchmaster, it shall be done," the Quarter master intoned as she had stretcher-bearers come to take the siblings away.
"The rest of you stop, I've seen enough. At attention and in line all of you," he paused to watch them go. "Not you H-78, we still have to see what you're made of."
The former merc nodded, walking over to B-52 and stopping about six feet from him. He saluted and stood at attention there waiting for B-52 to give the go-ahead. The rest of them stood to watch the show, B-52 had no illusions that it would be an easy fight like the one he just had. H-78 did have years of combat experience, granted that was human on human fighting, but that just meant he was slightly more specialized at killing people than B-52 was.
"Get into a fighting stance trooper, we go when I say." B-52 waited as the man did as he was told, taking a wide, low stance with his feet, body turned slightly sideways and fists up to protect his head. B-52 took the basic Korps stance in response, forward facing, equally low. Though he was more squared with his hands held loosely in-front of him, open to better catch and deflect blows, and so he wouldn't break his knuckles.
"Go," he stated clearly. They each waited for a moment, sizing each other. B-52 took the initiative and made a lunge forward with a straight blow aimed at H-78's face. The former merc brought his right hand up to bat aside the attack, quickly going on the counter and aiming a low punch for the Watchmaster's kidney.
B-52 angled his torso to the side to allow the punch to pass by merely nicking his side instead of obliterating his kidney. Using his right arm he trapped H-78's left close to his side, next he did the classic Korps headbutt. It wasn't fair to H-78 being that he was wearing a helmet and the former merc was not. H-78 did the best he could however, bringing his forehead down instead of taking the hard material to the nose which would have surely broken it.
Still dazed by the hit to his skull H-78 wasn't able to do much as B-52 grabbed him by the ears and wrenched his head sideways. Korps saying, 'where the head goes, the body follows,' and H-78 proved it right as he went sprawling on his side when B-52 let go of him. His ears now hurt like all warp, but his head was clear again.
Clear enough to catch B-52 coming on him fast, he caught the Watchmaster's right foot as the ruthless man tried to stomp on his chest. H-78 was thankful he had always been strong and resilient. Heaving for all he was worth the former merc practically threw B-52 off of him, sending the Watchmaster sprawling in turn, and landing on his back.
H-78 had been fighting his whole life, he knew an opportunity when he spotted one, and how to seize it. Scrambling to his feet quick as he could he dove after the Watchmaster, landing straddled across B-52's chest. Instead of raining blows as most would H-78 noted the obvious, his opponent was wearing protective gear. First to go was that damn helmet, he wrenched it off quick, tossing it to the side, next he ripped the skull mask off B-52's face.
Meeting the unfiltered light of day and air for the first time in years, B-52's eye's practically closed as both the sun and light breeze stung them. Were H-78 a less experienced man the acid-burned visage of the veteran Watchmaster would have given him pause, half his face was practically stripped off. Teeth now visible in a permanent rictus, nose all but gone, at least his eyes were still fully intact.
H-78 noted all of it in an instant, right before he started to go to work and make B-52's face worse off than it was. He rained blows down upon his now unprotected foe, getting more than a few good ones in before the Watchmaster put a stop to it. Catching H-78's left wrist with his own left hand B-52 wrenched it hard across his body, making the use his remaining right fist difficult.
Then he began to wriggle his knees up under H-78's body to push him up and gain some distance. He heaved upward with his legs, but H-78 grabbed him by his coat's collar and managed to stay on-top of him. B-52 growled in frustration, then taking stock he used his one advantage at that moment. Taking H-78's left hand he pulled it to his mouth and bit down. Hard. He saw the merc grimace, bearing the pain of it for a few moments, even throwing a few retaliatory punches to his face.
But B-52 had the will and just clamped down harder, threatening to take a few fingers, it was then that H-78 decided to cut his losses, standing quickly he was surprised when B-52 immediately let his hand go. The stinging pain of teeth in his hand was soon forgotten as he got a korps issue boot to the privates. Years of combat experience allowed H-78 to shake off the very unpleasant sensation, but having one's gonads forcibly jammed up into their body still hurt.
He staggered backward, B-52 was quick to get to his feet and press his attack. A right hook across H-78's temple further disorientated the hurt man. He was able to just barely catch the follow-up straight punch with both arms. He tried to get B-52's captured arm into a lock, but the Watchmaster was using his free right hand to hammer-fist the back of H-78's head, forcing the merc to let go, or face unconsciousness.
H-78 shoved hard to get the relentless Watchmaster away from him. He was starting to see what all the talk was about these Korpsmen. Back at about a distance of five feet, H-78 watched as B-52 began to circle him, hands up, eye's squinting and murderous, face set in a permanent snarl.
He charged at him as he did at the opening of the fight, H-78 was noticing B-52 always seemed to be first on the offense. Vicious and sudden, that would be the perfect description for the man. H-78 was able to stop the strike, meeting it with his own fist, too bad it was his left fist. The Watchmaster mercilessly dug his fingers into the still open bite wound, agitating it and causing a good amount of pain.
H-78 grunted in pain for a moment before throwing a right cross at B-52's face. The Watchmaster pulled his head back at the last moment, letting the punch sail past his face by inches. Then he used his other hand to grab the missed blow, wrenching both limbs across H-78's chest to lock them there. Then it was another headbutt that finally caught the former merc off-guard.
H-78 hardly had time to feel the pain of the first as B-52 delivered a second, and then a third headbutt to his steadily worsening face. Even without the helmet the bastard's head was hard...was the one thought circulating through the former merc's head. He was only vaguely aware of his feet being swept from under him when it happened, more aware when his head hit the ground.
H-78 was wondering just how far B-52 was willing to go when he felt the man upon him, hands coming strategically around his neck, squeezing his carotid arteries to cut blood-flow to his brain. H-78 gave the Watchmaster a bloody smile as he finally blacked-out.
Seeing his opponents eye's flutter shut B-52 finally let go of his grip. Breathing heavier than he would have liked, and having taken more damage than he wanted, he got up. He didn't even have to wave for the Quartermaster, she was there the moment he had gotten off H-78, checking his vitals and making sure he was still alive. H-78 was taken away quickly, but not before B-52 could make his orders known.
"Same as the other two Quartermaster, fit by tomorrow morning for further training." Without his mask's built-in vox-caster to make his words clear his speech was almost unintelligible. He immediately turned to the rest of his troopers. H-75 and H-76 looked awed, the three gangers had looks of respect, H-77 had a look of pure admiration, she was also the only one who didn't look disturbed by his face.
"That wretch being carried away had more fight in him than any of you," he hissed out. "Next time I tell you all to fight I expect you to fight! I have no use for you if you're hesitant, when faced with the enemy I expect you to bite, claw, spit, and use any and every advantage at your disposal to kill them." He eyed them all again, staring down each and every one of them with his naked eye's.
"That will be all for today, expect to be up bright and early tomorrow for more of the same. It's going to be a hellish few weeks for you wretches, war is coming, and the Korps needs you ready. Dismissed, straight to mess, then your barracks." He watched as they saluted and then turned neatly to be on their way.
Once they were a good ways away B-52 went over to where his mask and helmet lay. Picking up the skull mask he looked at the frightful visage, fully aware that it was better than his current bare face. He gingerly pulled in on over his face, carefully securing the straps. That done he bent down and scooped up his helmet, placing its comforting weight back securely on his head.
He sighed deeply, he realized he may have been too rough for the day. Were it normal circumstances he'd have three dead troopers right now, and hundreds more as reserve to train. But these nine were all he was going to get, and he had to train them well for what was coming up. He'd need to re-adjust some of his methods to keep them in proper fighting shape, they'd need to be to be part of the impending campaign.
Just one time, one single time, that was all he asked for. All he wanted, for things to be normal, to go right, for once. Granted for a while their time on Headstone had been fairly eventful, but in a good way. Cain, that lovable bugger, had found a halfway decent bar, where they had a very good time. They took in the sights of the port-city...not all that great in retrospect, being that it was mostly grime, dust, and flatlands.
But at least Xavier hadn't had to worry about fighting rebels, or xenos and their lovers, or whatever really. For a time he could just revel in being on a planet, one that was...mostly peaceful. It hadn't even been bad when they had to go on caravan protection duty. No bandits attacked, and they had got to see another local bar in the town that had the delivery. Fun was being had by all, until they arrived back to the port-city.
It was then that orders had come down, and not for something like caravan duty. They were heading out, into the thick of it, something was up. Frightful rumblings that had the higher-ups knickers in a twist. And that meant they were flown out, and dropped a ridiculous way out in the middle of nowhere. Why were they here, walking in bandit infested territory and mapping the area? Xavier sure as keck didn't know, they were given a terrain mapper, night-vision, ammo, a vox, and three days before pick-up.
That was two days ago, two days of walking in some dust choked hellhole under a brutal sun. Sleeping on hard-packed earth, eating Omnissiah awful rations, the taste of which he had just been starting to forget. They caught glimpses of bandit activity here and there, but nothing out of the ordinary from the intel they had been briefed on.
"Sergeant, you're usually in the know. Why the keck are we out here, and I'd rather not hear terrain recon, what's the real reason?" Eli of course would be the one out of their group to ask the question on their minds, and in such an informal way too. Sergeant Grimes turned to throw a look Eli's way, as always the Sergeant's eyes held that calculating look of his. The rest of his face held annoyance and disapproval, lucky for them Sergeant Grimes had grown a soft spot for them all by now.
Xavier could tell though, the Sergeant was weighing the pros and cons of telling them all. Couldn't have been easy, given that they were all laying in a rocky pit, keeping an eye out with night-vision. No fires had been a rule since the start, so they were all cold, open planes didn't allow them, on top of that they had to stay alert. Travel by night, sleep by day, right now they were taking a breather.
"Talk has it that there's something big boiling out here," he paused to take a breath. "Large gathering of bandit clans, and other such things. Superiors want to have an eye on the situation, we're not the only one's out on recon. Right now we're looking for the enemy, to have intel on where they'll be coming from, and their strength. Just need the confirmation."
"Well, that's great, not only are we on an important mission. But, if we manage to find the goal it has a high chance of getting us killed." Eli huffed, he seemed much more sour about the circumstances out of all of them. Or at least he was the most vocal about it.
"No, it doesn't mean we stand a high likelihood of death. What are we?" Grimes had been trying to drill this lesson into them for a while now.
"Rangers," multiple voices stated as low as possible back at him.
"That's right, and when Rangers don't want to be seen, we won't be. Remember lads, we don't have to engage, we only have to watch. If things get too bad we blend in, vox for pick-up and sit tight." He picked up his night-monocular and scanned the horizon for a moment, placing it back down when he was done. "Besides, from the look of things we won't really have to be worrying. Cheer up, we'll be on our way back to base by tomorrow evening."
"Yeah, and then the fighting breaks out the next day with our luck." Hack stated dourly.
"Don't be so pessimistic Hack, you're making my stomach turn. And no that's not the rations fault, it's yours." Cain muttered, adjusting himself to pull away a rock that was digging into his side.
"It's my job to be pessimistic," the field-medicae intoned glancing sideways at his comrade.
"Our only medicae is the pessimistic one… that doesn't bode well for the rest of us if we're ever hit." Xavier found himself joining in on the banter.
"Yeah, 'Help me I'm hit,' and the Hack will say, 'hmm, looks too bad, just gonna give you the Emperor's mercy,' yeah that really inspires confidence." Eli chuckled out as he fiddled with his long-las' night-scope.
"Do you want his mercy right now Eli? I'm more than willing to give it." Hack stated his hackles metaphorically raised.
"Cut the chatter lads," Grimes interceded even as Eli had his mouth open to form his next sentence. It was said with exasperation, but no one wanted to get on Grimes bad side, the Sergeant had a bad habit of punishing them with latrine duty. The Guard was not an institution whose toilets you wanted to clean, especially when there were Ogryns in your regiment.
Going back to his silent contemplation Xavier decided to kill some time by performing his actual mission. Clear line of sight all around them and not a thing to see… except there was.
"Keck," he let it slip from his mouth before he could stop himself.
"What was that Xavier?" Cain asked having not quite heard him.
"Look as far right as you can."
"Well, there's why the higher-ups have us freezing out here lads." Grimes confirmed in his galaxy weary manner.
"Holy Omnissiah," Hack whispered as he finally saw too.
"Yeah, that doesn't even begin to cover it," Eli put in.
In the distance there seemed to be what at first glance looked like a dust storm. Immense in scale, and stretching as far as the eye could see. What gave it away though was the many lights of thousands of bandit vehicles, the dust storm was the kick-up of countless wheels. The sound was only just beginning to reach them now, powerful engines cutting across the plains.
"Not worried about being subtle are they?" Cain spoke with a sigh.
"I don't think they have to be," Hack stated.
"Sarge, can we go home now?" Eli asked quietly.
"Nope, not yet, best to wait for 'em to pass. They're heading toward the city, and away from us, it'll be safer to just wait through the night and call for pick-up in the morning. That is if they're gone by then, I get the feeling it'll be a long while before this passes," Grimes laid down the plan.
"I've never seen so many vehicles in my life." Hack muttered to himself.
"Should I vox this in Sergeant?" Xavier questioned hand hovering over the caster control runes.
"Nah, the higher-ups will know soon enough. Besides, I'd rather not risk them picking up on the frequency, Emperor knows if they've got the equipment to do it, but better safe than dead." Grimes said as he peered through his monocular at the ocean of moving enemies.
"For now let's get some rest, take shifts, two per, Xavier, Cain you two get the first. The rest of us will try and get some sleep, Eli you and I are shift two, Hack'll be third with me also. We switch off every three hours, try to get some sleep lads. Tomorrow we're getting back early as we can." Grimes pulled himself from the lip of their rock-pit and settled down further toward the center, getting as comfortable as possible.
Hack and Eli followed behind, sleep sounded good to them, and despite having the second and third shifts they voiced no complaints. That left Xavier and Cain to watch as the storm of enemies passed by.
"This is going to be kecking bad Cain," Xavier said.
"It was bad two days ago when we learned shore-leave was canceled brother. This is gonna be much worse," Cain replied with his usual brand of levity.
"You said it not me."
Earthwork fortifications were being systematically erected on a day by day basis. Stalter had been an engineer, up until then all she had been in charge of was the construction of the rarely used parks within Portcity. Then for better or worse, about five days past Portcity was put under martial law, broadcasts from the planetary council had cemented that. And she had a new job.
Official residents and workers within the city were now beholden to the Imperial Guard. There would have been protest, had news of the very real, and very large horde of bandits coming to attack the city not been made public. But when most had heard that there was cooperation, for the most part. A few sparse protests cropped up, but they were easily put down with some stun rounds and teargas.
A good amount of people actually rejoiced with the Imperial Guard in charge, work was now plentiful, and many who had rarely eaten before now got three meals a day, compensation for their work building the fortifications and trenches. Stalter had found her engineering skills put to use when she was conscripted into the 82nd Death Korps.
They had eschewed her from basic training on the basis that she use her skills to direct the construction of fortifications. She had come to know that the Korps had no shortage of skilled siege technicians, their word for engineers, but they wanted locals at the head for projects being worked on by natives. It helped with morale, or so she was told.
As to how she came to be conscripted, it officially happened because her boss had sold her contract to the 82nd, for a modest profit of course, and according to it she had no choice in the matter but to adhere to the orders of her new employers. Employment with any of the major companies was little better than slavery on Headstone, which is why most people were freelance if they could hack it. Unfortunate for Stalter that would have really limited her career options, so here she was.
She had to wear korps issued clothing like any other conscript, hers though was of lighter color than the dark grays, and blacks usually associated with the 82nd, again it helped convey a friendlier image. Which was also the reason she didn't have to wear the mask, still had to keep it on her person, the helmet was non-negotiable though. To her understanding she was really more like an outside contractor, rather than an official trooper.
Her current project had her overseeing the efforts of setting up the massive forward star-shaped trench-line that would surround Portcity once completed. It was the largest project she had ever worked on. Taking in her own knowledge of the subject, as well as consulting with any Korps siege technician she could, her section of the line was nearing its completion. Three days ahead of schedule as a matter of fact.
Looking to the civilian workers digging the trenches from her position above them Stalter was also proud of the quality of the trench itself. She had seen how skilled the Korpsmen were in their own constructions, she had been worried that her workers wouldn't be able to compete. But through a detailed and regimented work schedule she had been able to motivate her workers to get the quality and scope of the project on par with their Guard competitors.
From the duckboards laid on the floor, to the sandbag and flakboard protected emplacements, it was well made and looked formidable. It had even passed the recent inspection made by a qualified siege technician. Now the only thing they were doing was putting in the finishing touches. Soon Stalter would be moving on to help with the secondary fortifications.
It was still something she was having a hard time believing, bandit clans had always been a problem to Portcity. But usually only on the outskirts, and only small raiding parties, but now the news was there was an army out there. Enough of them to get the Council to accept Guard help, and allow them to use their assets to protect the city. Stalter figured if those greedy whore-sons thought there really was a problem then there must actually be a problem.
She put those thoughts away quickly though, for now she had work to do on her fortifications.
Life sucked, insofar as Raltia was concerned. Sure she didn't have to dig trenches, or scout the flatlands. No she and the rest of the Randon 145th had a much more difficult task. They had become the unofficial police for Portcity. Headstone had no Adeptus Arbite presence, and the local 'police' were little better than street thugs hired by the various companies to keep some semblance of peace.
Suffice it to say that when the Planetary Council decided to hand over most control of the city to the Imperial Guard those thugs decided to cut their losses. The ones who had not quit, out of some sense of loyalty or pride Raltia didn't know, were not equipped or trained to handle the small scale protest and near riots happening throughout Portcity.
Surprisingly enough Randon Droptroopers were. Randon was a deathworld, its droptroopers were rapid response for defense against its deadly creatures. They also specialized as a crack police force for the world at large. So all Randon Droptroopers, even the conscripts had gotten training to put down protests, riots, and large creature attacks in addition to their soldiering.
Right now Raltia was on patrol with Sunra, their squad had split up to keep peace in the city's eighth district. They were currently resolving protest, Raltia had called it in, relaying their position to their comrades should things go badly, meanwhile Sunra was trying to talk the protestors into dispersing.
The crowd was about two dozen strong, Raltia couldn't see any weapons, just signs. Phrases used since humanity was stuck on Terra were prevalent. The crowd was chanting a variety of them, all united in their dislike for who they viewed as invaders. Raltia thought it ironic how they were all technically Imperial subjects. They were up in a frenzy now, it had gotten worse when they had caught sight of them in their crimson uniforms. It was not going well, Raltia knew she shouldn't have let Sunra do the talking…
"Listen, I'm done arguing with you snetches, get out of here, or we're gonna make you." The agitation in Sunra's voice could easily be heard. Raltia knew well her friend's fiery personality, and the short fuse accompanying it. She knew it was already too late the moment the leader of the protest opened his mouth.
"This is a free planet offworld bitch, you have no authority here." The man had a beard, he looked to be the leader of the protest riling his cohorts up with his display.
"What did you just call me snetche." It had been a terrible mistake on the man's part. Not that he could have known Randon was a matriarchal society, but it was, and that kind of talk to a woman, coming from a man no less was not something Sunra was used to, or tolerated.
As the leader opened his mouth to speak again Sunra smacked him across the cheek with her lasgun butt. The loud crack signaled that she broke something, the man fell to the ground. Raltia was at Sunra's side in a second spraying lasfire into the crowd before they got too riled by their leaders misfortune.
Their lasguns had been set to stun for crowd control purposes, so Raltia wasn't worried about killing anyone. Not good for morale if they killed the locals, but getting stunned by a lasgun hurt like keck. Raltia knew from training exercise. It would certainly make you wish you were dead.
Raltia aimed carefully, winging people in their center where the stun blast would affect their bodies most. Those she hit crumpled in on themselves as the energy overode their body's control, causing pain and muscle spasms. They would be feeling the pain for a few moments, followed by soreness for a day or two afterward.
Soon Sunra had joined in and they were taking down protestors left and right. The crowd of two dozen broke into a mad dash to get away from the two lasgun wielding women. In the end they were left with the leader nursing his broken cheek, and several groaning protestors under the effects of the stun-rounds.
"It would have been better if we didn't have to stun them. Now we have to arrest the ones left behind. Great going Sunra," Raltia's tone was sardonic as she began to go about zip-tying wrists and ankles. They'd have to call in back-up to transport this many people.
"He called me a bitch, his mistake, Emperor damned snetch." Sunra replied, as if that explanation excused everything.
"Not everywhere in the Imperium is like Randon, different planet, different customs. We should try and be a bit more understanding, could have gotten them to leave more peacefully if you tried." Raltia tried to explain, sometimes the cultural differences between them frustrated her.
"Well, they should be. What kind of man calls a woman… that word. Pisses me off just thinking about it," she began helping with the restraints. "Eli, now that guy knows his proper place. Would make a good husband on Randon, I'm considering snapping him up if I can."
Raltia shook her head, that relationship, if it could be called that, was not something she wanted to get into. Randon courting practices were just plain weird, at least compared to Surris.
"Sure, you do that lover-girl. In the meantime I'm gonna call this in, we have to clean up this mess." Raltia voxed their situation and location moments later.
It wasn't a long wait for a valkyrie to be hovering overhead. Fellow droptrooper roped down, hooking their new prisoners and having them hauled back up with them for transport to a newly set up detention center. Raltia had heard rumors that the prisoners were being collared and put to work, and that they were going to be used as fodder for the upcoming battles.
The two women watched as the valkyrie zipped away with their mess, Raltia gave Sunra a solid slug in her shoulder. Months ago the Surrin woman wouldn't have even considered doing such a thing, for fear of being beaten to death. But Sunra was her friend now, and she was more than confident she could at least match her in a fight now.
"Ow, Ral what was that for!" Sunra protested, as was to be expected.
"You know what it was for Sun," Raltia began to walk down the street leaving her friend to catch up. No doubt they'd be running into a few more situations needing policing. She sighed yet again, reduced to crowd control, it sucked.
A/N: Well, yeah things happened, life intervened, at least now I've got a shiny new laptop. So, I'm hoping that'll give me some extra motivation. Good news is this chapter is at least passably lengthy, clocking in at just over 10,000 words, before this huge A/N thank you very much. I hope it is enjoyable, anyway I got great feedback since the last chapter so time for the shout-outs.
Zxcalvaryxz- Glad you liked the scene, sorry it seemed rushed. Probably should have taken more time with it, I may expand on it on a later date. But too many things are coming down the pipe for me right now. Thank you for the review though.
Gwb99- Thank you for the input, glad the car battle was exciting for you. I'm also glad to hear that willy wonka's voice means I've done good… never thought I'd say that.
JohnDoeSIGMA1- Glad you got the right vibe, again I think I'll be revisiting that chapter at some point to flesh the battle out more. Hope this one will be entertaining as well, even though it's not nearly as actiony. Thanks for the review.
Imperial Servant- WITNESS ME! Thank you for the review. Heh, kinda rhymed.
Anon part 3- Not sure about that, at least not by the end of this particular story, but I wouldn't discount it in the future, at some long point off though mind you. And yes if he lost both eye's that would be rather sad. Thanks for the review!
Blankina- Thank you for your criticism, if you've read this far that is. I hope the grammar was so off-putting as to turn you away from the story. Worry not, I completely understand, to each his/her own and you are indeed correct. I should have a beta, or at least proof-read much better, which I am constantly working on. Unfortunately my track record with beta readers is not good, I get one, and they seem to want to leave me quickly thereafter. It's not because of difficulty I swear, just hasn't worked out. Life issues on either side of the spectrum is what usually does the partnership in I'm afraid. Seems to be a curse to be honest. Anyway, thank you for the review and I will p/m you the meaning of the numerals soon.
Private Jenkins- Thank you for your review, I think I'll go back and implement that perspective change idea of yours. Much better than what I've tried, just gotta nail the Imperial timeline down first, and where my story fits in it. I'm glad the portrayal of warfare sits well with you. I can't draw from personal experience, but I tried to do as much research to get those scenes as realistic as possible. I will admit the marching to cadence in a battlefield is unrealistic, but I couldn't help myself. Band of Brothers was playing when I typed it up, and well I got swept by the idea. Thank you again, hope you enjoyed this chapter as well. The story should pick up again next chapter if this seemed too tame/non-progressive.
Slothman- Thank you for the reviews. I will be updating description for the mad max chapter at some point. It may be too late for my current readers, but eventually I plan to perfect this story in its entirety. Thank you again.
SgBriggs- Glad to hear you're caught up. I'll be letting you know the meaning of the numerals soon via p/m, looking forward to your next review.
That'll be all for now folks, next update should be more punctual. Though Fallout 4 is coming out soon, and I actually got a story request from a reader for a 40k short. So, that might take precedence for a short time. But I will not be stopping the writing for 'Our Masks' so please do not worry. Thank you all for you reviews, support, criticism, etc…
300-709.