# Sturms Spectres



## greywulf

*Joy And Woe*

WARNING

This fanfic will contain scenes of mild sexual imagery and scenes of moderate violence and death.











o0o
A 40k fan fiction
by
Paul "greywulf" Colbourne
o0o


PROLOGUE

"..we will do our best with what we have.."​



Flatiron hung like a greasy ball in the inky black of space, the image of the planet and its twin orbiting moons an uninspiring sight as it flickered upon the bridge pict-screen. 

Captain Joliet Yawhammer cast an indifferent gaze over the planet as she sipped at her post jump mug of caffeine. “It does not really strike one as particularly…. notable, don’t you agree, Ensign Ilka?” the woman commented, tilting her head towards the gaunt man standing beside her. “Why do these heretics always choose such lacklustre planets to overrun?” 

Ensign Ilka ran his eyes over the data-slate in his grasp, reading the scrolling information being displayed on the device. “Flatiron. Designation, gamma. Tithe to the Imperium consists of livestock and processed meat products.” The ensign tapped the slate’s screen, altering the data flow being transmitted to the instrument. “No guard regiment founded, small PDF force and Adeptus Arbites presence, mainly located at Yoevel, the capital city of the planet.”

Draining her caffeine, Joliet handed the empty mug to a waiting servitor before shifting the pict-screen to a closer view of Flatiron, remotely accessing the planet’s satellite network to provide the image. The speed at which the systems of the long-serving Mosaic reacted brought a faint smile to the woman’s severe face. The old Navy cruiser had seen her share of conflict and long-haul troop transportation during her career, and yet still the vessel performed almost as well as the day she had left her construction yard.

The image of Flatiron transferred to an aerial view, revealing the mixture of jungle and grasslands that covered the majority of the planet, the green broken in places by small settlements bordered by livestock ranches and small processing manufactoriums. 

But it was sprawling collection of habs that made up the capital city of Yoevel, with the hulking manufactoriums and smokestacks of its southern production yards, that was the destination of the Mosaic and the Imperial Guard regiment currently preparing for battle within the vessel’s belly.

Joliet opened a comms channel to the deployment bay. “Captain Yawhammer to Colonel Greaves,” she said, her voice level in spite of the adrenaline starting to course through her body. “Prepare your forces for high altitude insertion. We will begin in one Terran hour.”

“Confirmed, Captain Yawhammer,” replied Colonel Greaves, his rough voice intimidating even over the comms. “Angel Flight are already fuelled and prepped on the deck for the initial assault. All other forces are readying for a hard landing under heavy fire.”

Joliet smiled, impressed at the efficient of Greaves and his Wraith Irregulars. “Excellent, Colonel. We will anchor above Yoevel shortly and begin to lay down orbital fire to try and clear your landing zone a little bit.” She gestured for her command staff to begin the approach. “I’m afraid the Mosiac has little in the way of planetary assault weaponry, but we will do our best with what we have.”

Greaves chuckled. “As will we, Captain. I am a full company down, due to the appeal of one Inquisitor. To have another request our assistance, well, it’s either a testament to the skill of my men, or I’ve done something to annoy somebody.”

“Good luck, Colonel Greaves,” Joliet said, smiling as she ended the transmission, before casting her attention to the image of Flatiron on the main screen. After a moment, she became aware of the anxious presence of Ensign Ilka behind her, and she turned to look at him questioningly. 

Ensign Ilka licked his lips nervously “Lord Vistag wished to be informed when the liberation was to begin, Captain,” he said. “ Should I have the Damnation hailed?”

With a sigh, Joliet leaned her hands on her command pulpit and gave a nod. “Do so, Ensign Ilka,” she murmured reluctantly.
Ilka saluted in reply, and signalled for the order to be carried out.

Closing her eyes, Joliet listened to the thrum and whirs of the Mosiac’s helmsman servitors filling the control room of her vessel, the mechanical noises punctuated by the quiet talking between the human crew within the chamber. The ambient noises were as every day to Joliet as the beat of her own heart, and they helped to calm her mood as she drowned herself in them.

The sound of rhythmic breathing suddenly ended Joliet’s moment of tranquillity, the motorised wheeze of a respirator signalling that the hail to the Damnation had been accepted.

The Navy captain opened her eyes, fixing her features in a blank expression as she looked at the hooded figure on the viewscreen before her. 

Inquisitor Lord Vistag’s features were hidden within the shadowed confines of a deep cowl, only the red glow of an optical augmentation visible amid the gloom, which Joliet found a great comfort. The regulated hissing and rasping of a respirator coming from beneath the black hood was deeply unsettling, and she had no desire to see what horrific wounds had warranted such drastic measures.

“Lord Vistag,” she said. “The Wraith Irregulars are preparing for the liberation of Flatiron.“

“Good, Captain Yawhammer,” replied Vistag, his synthetic voice artificial and emotionless. “I assume you are to begin with the standard orbital barrage of the landing area?”

Joliet nodded, trying not to look in to the depths of the Inquisitor’s cowl, instead focusing on the white Inquisition symbol on the wall behind him. “That is correct, my lord,” she replied, glancing to the battle display to the left of the viewscreen. “We have two weapons batteries with which to bombard the-“

Vistag silenced her with a sharp slice of a pale hand, the near translucent skin a stark contrast to the void black of his encompassing robes. “Use one battery only, Captain, and sparingly at that,” he rasped. “I do not wish to risk my objective for the sake of a stray shell.”

Frowning, Joliet risked looking directly at the shadows concealing Vistag’s features. “But surely-“ she began before a mechanical growl from the depths of Vistag’s cowl silenced her.

“Don’t think to question me, Captain Yawhammer,” the Inquisitor snapped, “Lest I decide to view your reluctance as defiance.”

Joliet shrank back from the viewscreen, her fear obvious as she stammered an apology. “I did not mean to doubt your wishes, Lord Vistag,” she said frantically. “Your command will of course be followed to the letter.”

Vistag leaned forward, the motion lessening the gloom beneath his hood. A hint of gleaming black metal and mechanical twitching was disclosed as the Inquisitor shifted. “I would expect nothing less, Captain ," the cold artificial voice commented, the rasping of the respirator punctuating each word. “Inform me when the initial assault’s success has been confirmed.”

The hailing channel closed, leaving the viewscreen black. 

Breathing a sigh of relief, Joliet glanced at Ilka. “Move us in to position and ready primary barrage battery,” she ordered. “Let’s start carpeting the space port. And carefully. Have the servitor be cautious with it’s targeting.” 

“Aye, Captain Yawhammer.” Ilka saluted and moved to relay the command, leaving Joliet alone at her command pulpit.

“May the Emperor guide us,” Joliet murmured as she waited for the liberation of Flatiron to begin.





o0o


"..as you wish.."​


Thrush sighed wearily.

The robed cultist slumped back in the former governor of Flatiron’s throne, indifferent to the eyeless corpse of the chair’s former owner lying at his feet. 

The heretic preacher was tired; the illumination of the planet’s residents was proving to be a long and exhausting process. He felt his one eye growing heavy with fatigued, sleep beckoning as Thrush began to sink into the opulent cushions beneath him.

A sudden clawing torture within the cultist’s skull banished all notions of sleep.

you displease me thrush your recruitment of disciples progresses slowly

Thrush licked his cracked lips, flinching as the angry daemonic murmuring clawed in his mind. He reached up and stroked at the brass patch covering his right eye. “I’m spreading the truth of your divine murmurs, great Neth, and many of the corpse worshipers have embraced the light of your all-seeing gaze.” The robed man ran a grubby finger over the stylised eye engraved in the surface of his eye patch, tracing the X scratched through the centre of its pupil. “But some are less willing to accept initiation into the Host of the Whispering Eye.” Thrush jerked his hand from the brass patch as it began to heat up, green light spilling from around the edge of the metal. “I believed this planet’s citizens would be more compliant…”

Agony stabbed in to Thrush’s mind as his dark god’s whispering voice tore into his brain.

if they do not wish to serve me then they can assist in other ways lord ragon will be informed

“As you wish, great Neth.” Thrush resisted the urge to tear of his eye patch and claw at the burning socket beneath. “I shall have the Host prepare for the Dread Lord’s arrival.”

your transgression is but one of many thrush this time you shall not escape untested

Before Thrush could question the meaning of the whispered words, the door to the hall slammed open and a dishevelled man burst into the dark room.

“Thrush, they coming!”

The one-eyed preacher stood, gathering his robes as he stepped over the dead governor to meet the breathless cultist.

“They coming, Thrush, the corpse-god’s army is coming!” Saren panted, collapsing to his knees from exhaustion before Thrush. He kissed the other man’s boots in frenzied reverence. “Them Arbies say there is a ship in orbit, Thrush.” Saren clutched at Thrush’s legs as he tried to pull himself up. “It’s a troop transport, Thrush. That means there be troopers in it.” 

survive and you shall once again earn my approval

Thrush kicked the whimpering Saren away and strode towards the doorway, discarding his preacher’s robe as he walked, revealing the muscular frame and bandolier of knifes and firearms strapped across his barrel chest.

“As you wish, great Neth,” he intoned. “I obey your whispers.”





STURM'S SPECTRES​







“I love you.”

The words soft on her lips, Yasmin looked up in to Hektor’s eyes, placing her gloved hand against his bristly cheek. Breathing heavily beneath him, she relaxed as well as she could on the debris-strewn floor of the burnt out manufactorium, her combat bedding doing little to cushion the cool permacrete. 

Hektor leaned down and kissed Yasmin, enjoying the eagerness with which she returned the gesture. The thick blanket covering them began to slip, and he quickly caught it, pulling the camo-patterned sheet back in to place.

“I love you, too,” Hektor replied, keeping his heavy voice as low as possible.

Yasmin smiled, the thin scar on her right cheek crinkling at the motion. She wrapped her arms and legs around him tightly, the equipment attached to Hektor’s combat webbing chinking as she pulled him closer.

Hektor ran a rough hand against one of Yasmin’s thighs, adjusting its position against the frag grenade dispenser strapped to his waist. 

The distant boom of mortar fire highlighted the hushed intimacy between the two troopers as they stirred beneath the camo-blanket, both whispering words of love as they found a moment of joy amongst the sadness of The War, Yasmin clamping a gloved hand over her mouth, biting back the involuntary yelp at the pleasure surging through her body. 

Panting gently, Hektor lay down beside her, the sheet they had been hiding under tangling round him as he collapsed on the hard bedroll. The action left Yasmin exposed to the cold night air, prompting her to quickly pull her combat leggings on before reclaiming a portion of the blanket.

Nuzzling in to Hektor’s flak jacketed side, Yasmin closed her eyes happily and smiled.

It was these moments that almost allowed her to forget The War, these brief instants when she lay warm and satisfied beside Hektor, his promises to keep her safe still fresh in her ears. She could almost forget the presence of her slumbering fellow troopers within the dilapidated building.

Opening her eyes, she looked up at the night sky through the fractured ribs of the manufactoriums roof.

The stars above this Emperor-forsaken planet were half obscured by the fog of battle, smoke and debris from the conflict all but shrouding the twinkling sparks from view.

The buzzing of Hektor’s vox-unit, the small device vibrating against her side between them, interrupted her happy contentment.

Hektor pulled the battered vox free with a sigh and activated it.

“Sturm here,” he said, sitting up with a weary grunt.

“This is Command. Operation Haunting is a go. I repeat, Haunting is a go.”

The curt voice of Colonel Greaves crackled from the vox, the transmission disconnected by the commander before Hektor could acknowledge.

Stowing the unit, Hektor looked down at Yasmin.

Her uniform was dishevelled, dark hair plastered to the sheen of sweat on her forehead, pale dirty cheeks still flushed from their snatched intimate moment.

She was beautiful.

She was his incentive, his reason for surviving each mission.

Cupping her face, Hektor raised his voice to address the resting troopers of his unit, his eyes still on Yasmin.

“Spectres, saddle up. We have business tonight.”

As groans of protest began to rise from the squad, each trooper reaching for his or her weapons, Yasmin also began to ready herself, readjusting her combating webbing and picking up her sniper rifle.

Checking the weapon, she worded a prayer to the Emperor in her mind.

Let me get through this hell. I have found the man I want to marry. One more campaign, and we are both done with the Guard. Please let us both get off this rock alive.

Looking at Hektor, she smiled.

The Emperor had blessed her with happiness from amongst the horror of war.

He could not take him away from her now.


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## greywulf

The jungle-rimmed outskirts of Yoevels production yards were little more then rubble and twisted plasteel, what had once been smokestacks and manufactoriums all but demolished by the Basilisk artillery of the 5th Wraith Irregulars.

The ruins were studded with craters and strewn with chunks of charred debris, the terrain now practically impassable to tracked armoured vehicles.

This mattered little to Sturm’s Spectres.

Ten Scout Sentinels emerged silently from the cover of the jungle, their long legs carrying them easily over the rubble scattered in the open ground between the tree line and shattered buildings.

With a low throaty rumble, a Chimera transport broke cover behind the galloping walkers, the recently applied jungle camo pattern on its hull serving to conceal the bulky form of the idling transport. 

The Sentinels left the Chimera in their wake, the walkers’ operators steering the vehicles in to the maze of permacrete and misshaped plasteel girders. The track-powered transport could not follow, even if this mission had called for it. All that was required of the Chimera and its crew was to await the return of the Spectres and their prize.

In the lead walker, Hektor glanced at his auspex, checking the formation of his Spectres.

The unit had divided, four Spectres under Hektor’s command, the second group lead by Corporal Yasmin Tinton.

Yasmin Tinton.

The woman that had won the heart of “Handsome” Hektor Sturm.

Smiling, Hektor brought up a map of Yoevel, the information displayed on the windscreen of his cockpit. A pair of targets was marked on the flickering image, the intended objectives to be shared by the two Spectre groups.

Team One, lead by Hektor, was to strike at Target One, located on the edge of what had been Yoevels pleasure district. Intel had pinpointed it as the site of the headquarters of the traitor guard regiment holding the city against the loyalist Wraith Irregulars. 

Colonel Greaves had expressed a desire to have a tête-à-tête with the commander of the traitor regiment; the heretic bastich was to be brought before the major by the waiting Chimera as soon as he was delivered by the Spectres.

Yasmin’s Team Two was to disable the Traitors communication network, by knocking out their transmitter array, before returning to the extract point to await the return of Team One. The resulting disarray caused by the double blow of losing their command structure and the ability to coordinate their attacks would leave the traitors wide open.

Plotting a course using the Intel supplied to him, which he knew would be unreliable at best, Hektor signalled for his team to follow in a loose formation, to best take advantage of the narrow streets of Yoevels urban sprawl. 

Blinking confirmations appeared on his HUD, his teams Sentinels splitting up as they prepared to leave the brutalised production yards and enter Yoevel proper. 

A pulsing light activated on Hektor’s instrument panel, indicating an incoming vox message. He accepted the communication, opening a closed channel as he did.

“Good luck, handsome,” Yasmin’s voice bubbled from the Sentinels vox, making Hektor smile as he steered his walker in to the entrance of a darkened alleyway.

“Same to you, beautiful,” he replied, “Make sure to bring your pretty ass back in one piece. These Sentinels are a bastich to replace.”

“Love you too,” Yasmin retorted with a laugh, “Stay safe.”

“Stay safe,” said Hektor, before closing the channel.


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## toffster

Very, very good. Romance in an imperial regiment? That's rare, and temporary at best.

A nice idea, and I like the use of sentinels instead of foot troops. You could really pull this off well. More great originality from you as always!


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## greywulf

Thanks very much Toffster!

Im glad you are enjoying it so far.


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## greywulf

“Stay safe.”

Hektor’s deep voice rumbled from Yasmin’s vox speakers a moment before the comm light on Yasmin’s instrument panel went dark, indicating the personal channel closed.

Yasmin placed a palm over the shell casing hanging beneath her uniform, the makeshift pendent made from a round spent during the Wraith Irregulars defence of Brystol. The cold metal of the heavy bullet jacket between the trooper’s breasts reminded her of that hellish night, her baptism of lasfire in to the ranks of the Spectres. 

It had been the night when Hektor had saved her life.

After gently squeezing the shell casing, Yasmin looked to the HUD display on her veiwscreen,

The four Spectres in her team were already within the outskirts of Yoevel, avoiding areas of the city with confirmed pockets of traitor guard units. But the traitor troopers were not the only potential threat.

The populous of Yoevel had been exposed to ranting of the traitorous Commissars and Priests, their immoral preaching compelling many of the civilians to take up arms against the Irregulars.

Though Yasmin knew that there was no salvation for these unfortunates other then she could dispense with the spinning barrels of her Sentinels assault cannon, the waste of human life weighed heavy on her soul.

Forcing such thoughts to the back of her mind, Yasmin steered her Sentinel forwards, guiding the walker carefully towards the relatively good cover of a nearby public park, keeping her vehicle close to the tree line of the empty recreational area.

In the distance, the boom of the Irregulars Basilisk artillery could be heard, the shelling being provided to draw the traitors’ attention from the Spectres Sentinels as they advanced stealthily towards their targets.

“Two-One, this is Two-Three, do you read me?”

The voice of Ursula, one of Team Two, sounded from Yasmin’s vox unit.

“Two-Three, this is Two-One. Go ahead,” she responded, 

“Have located the traitors Salamander Command unit. Two-Three and Two-Two ready to engage unit.”

Yasmin smiled. As ever she was impressed by the skills of her fellow Spectres.

She sprinted her Sentinel from the shelter of the park, the walkers long legs propelling it over a parked land vehicle in two heavy plasteel denting stomps as Yasmin headed towards the location of the enemy Salamander, a gently flickering dot on her HUD indicating the vehicles confirmed position.

“Hold engagement till all Twos are in supporting positions. Confirm, Two-Three,” she ordered, checking the ammo readouts for her assault cannon.

“Confirmed, Two-One. Out.”

Ursula closed the channel, leaving Yasmin with only the whining sound of her walkers’ servos as it gathered speed as she galloped to join Team Two in the impending assault. 

To the west of her position, Yasmin caught sight of a plume of belching smoke coming from the direction of Yoevels pleasure district.


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## toffster

Interesting, got me hooked here. Can't wait for the next chapter now! Keep them coming, I'll be sad when it's all over lol!

Keep this up and you'll be on the end of some more +rep


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## Shacklock

Pretty original idea, like the writing style as well, flows well.


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## greywulf

Wow, thanks guys for commenting!

Its so much more rewarding when people say something positive, or even not, when they read my stuff.

Next Chapter up next, and I hope I can keep you hooked until the end!


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## greywulf

This is One-One. Ones Three and Four, cloud cover. One-Two, bring the rain. One-Five, pair with me. Confirm.”

“One-Two, confirmed.”

“One-Three, acknowledged.”

“One-Four, roger, Hektor.”

“One-Five, yes, Sir”

“Execute.”

The Spectres of Team One descended on the brothel the rebels were using as a command headquarters, the attack executed with smooth precision.

One-Three and One-Four launched smoke grenades towards the main entrance of the low structure, quickly wreathing the area in thick choking clouds, providing cover for One-One and One-Five to speedily race across the open ground up to the building. The two galloping Sentinels dove in to the smoke, hurdling the line of guardsmen crouched behind their makeshift barricade of combat jeeps in front of the brothel. 

The retaliation from the traitor guardsmen was light, their surprise at being attacked so far behind the lines leaving them open to the heavy bolter of Spectre One-Two

One-Two opened up with a hail of bolter rounds, the roaring weapon on his Sentinels nose rapidly chewing through its ammo, a hot hail of expended casings bouncing around the walkers’ feet. The bullets cut the stunned guardsmen in half and tore chunks from their cover, gore and plasteel flying as the Irregulars finest overran the traitors.

One-One and One-Five dropped their crafts to Rest Stance, the walkers skidding on their knees as the Spectres brought them to sliding halt with exit hatches already open. Before the Sentinels had stopped, their operators were on the ground running, Hektor leading Jayne towards the brother. 

Both guardsmen had their weapons ready as they ran at the door to the building, Jayne peppering the door with lasfire from behind Hektor, weakening it for the sergeants heavy shoulder charge. Hektor’s momentum carried him in to the foyer area of the brothel, the Spectre blind firing as he dove to the marble flooring within the room.

Hektor’s lasfire didn’t find any targets, but the bursts of energy did force the traitors in the foyer off guard, many too engaged in the brothels entertainers to react as they had been trained to while still loyalists, not the pillaging heretics they had become.

Jayne’s aim was more controlled, the trooper drilling her targets with accurate shots to the face and chest, putting the traitors down permanently.

There was only one traitor that the Spectres had been ordered to take alive.

The self titled Colonel Acura, the commander of the rebel regiment, one time friend of the Wraith Irregulars own commanding officer Colonel Greaves.

Leaving the whores to scream with their former clients dead and twitching between their proficient thighs, Hektor and Jayne headed for the foyers gilded twin staircases, looking for the traitor Acura.


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## greywulf

The Salamander crew and their guard unit never knew what hit them.

Two-Five and Two-Two opened up with their Hunter Killers, the small Scout Sentinels rocking backwards at the violent force of propelled krak warheads being launched from the bolt-on missile pods. The unsteady release sent the missiles of target initially off target, but the self-guided weapons quickly adjusted and tore towards the Salamander, guidance jets shrieking as they covered the distance in seconds.

The hull of the Salamander was ruptured by the pair of hollow-charge warheads, the missiles striking low against the left side of the vehicle. The force of the explosion flipped the Salamander, lifting it off the ground to land on its roof in a shower of dirt and metal, the left track flying from its mountings. A secondary explosion rocked the incapacitated Salamander as the vehicles’ detonating fuel tanks ripped apart its belly, turning the transport in to a fiery tomb of burning promethium.

Spectres Two-Four and Two-Three erupted from cover, their engines of their Sentinels whining loudly as the walkers charged at full speed across the open ground towards the squad of guardsmen that had been left stunned by the missile attack.

The overturned Salamanders front-mounted heavy bolter boomed as its operator fired blindly in panic, as his flesh melted from his bones.

The cockpit of Two-Five was shredded open by a glancing hit from the gunfire, enveloping its operator Heath in a hail of tattered plasteel armour and the splintered shards of the Sentinels windscreen. The walker stutter stepped as its operator released the controls, the vehicle losing power and overbalancing as its momentum carried it.

As Two-Four’s Sentinel continued the headlong charge, its cohort toppled forwards, leaving Spectre trooper Neyo alone to rake the tents of the compound with chattering assault gunfire. Enemy guardsmen died in a storm of bullets, their bodies shredded by the brutal attack.

Yasmin swore under her breath and powered her Sentinel forward from cover, glancing at the ruined cockpit of Heath’s walker as she galloped by. From the devastation it was almost certain that Heath was dead.

“Two-Three, Two-Two, get in here and check Two-Five,” she ordered, joining Two-Four in finishing off those remaining traitors attempting to flee the slaughter. Neyo had activated his external vox speakers and was bellowing frenzied scripture at the rebels, the trooper angry at the fall of his fellow Spectre.

As Neyo sent the turncoats to their deaths with litanies of the Emperors justice ringing in their ears, Yasmin fired at the guardsmen, flinching as lasfire splashed over the windscreen of her cockpit. Through the fresh burns scaring the windscreen, Yasmin picked out a trooper taking shots at her and sent the traitor screaming the floor, almost cut in half by her assault cannon.

“Two-One, this is Two-Two. Heath is badly injured, though he should make it. Two-Three has him onboard and is on the way back to the Chimera for medical attention. ”

The report from Beatrice swelled Yasmin’s heart, a smile relaxing the tension in her face. 

“All Twos, mission is completed. Return to extract point,” she ordered in to her vox, powering down her weapons and relaxing the combat suspension on her Sentinel. Sprint mode now engaged, she moved her walker quickly away from the burnt out Salamander and the bullet riddled traitor guardsmen, joining her team in vanishing back in to the streets of Yoevel.


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## greywulf

The reaction to Team One’s assault on the brothel was rapid, clusters of civilians flocking towards the building like a swarm of angry hornets.

The incoming city-dwellers appeared on the HUD of trooper Perlman’s Sentinel, the myriad of pulsing red dots representing the numerous groups converging and heading along the boulevard towards Team One’s position.

The waist servos of the Sentinel whined as Perlman rotated the walkers upper half to face towards the nearest hostiles, his covering position atop a building opposite the brothel allow him a clear line of sight over the surrounding structures.

“Oh frug me,” he muttered before opening a comm channel to his fellow Spectres standing guard outside the target building. “This is One-Two. Targets on auspex are civilians, I say again, civilians. I can see women and children among the crowds.” 

“They are potential dissidents, One-Two. Their age or gender is of no concern to me. I will put them down. The Emperor wills it so.”

Tran’s gruff voice rumbled from the vox speaker as Perlman guided his Sentinel towards the edge of his perch. He rotated his cockpit back round and dropped down to the street, his vehicles joints complaining at the fall as their shock absorbers took the strain.

“That may be so, One-Four, but our orders are clear. We are to extract the prize only. We are not here to kill innocent citizens,” said Perlman. “Do not fire unless fired upon, One-Four.”

Tran’s Sentinel stomped forwards, its heavy gait stirring the residue of the covering smoke used in the assault. The walker stopped in front of Perlman, close enough for him to read the impressive kill total painted on the side of its blunt nose.

“This city has been brainwashed by the words of the faithless guardsmen it now sides with,” Tran growled, the man staring at Perlman through the grim streaked windscreen of his walker. “If they are so weak as to turn from the Emperor’s truth so easily, then they should be penalized for their failing.”

“They are still people of the Imperium, misguided though they are,” said Perlman firmly. “They are non-combatants, Tran, not our enemy.” 

“A non-combatant is just an enemy yet to reveal himself,” Tran rumbled. “If one of these fools opens fire on me, they will realise their folly at siding with traitors of the Imperium.”

Still looking through his veiwscreen at Tran as the trooper guided his Sentinel to a more strategic location, Perlman opened a channel to Hektor.

“One-One, this is One-Two. We have incoming civilians. It is not yet confirmed if they are bearing arms or what their intentions are. Please advise, One-One.”

Before Hektor could respond, a bullet ricocheted from Perlman’s windscreen, startling the Spectre trooper. He spun his walker to face the attack, finding the crowd of civilians in a state of panic, many screaming and trying to break away from the mob.

“There are armed combatants amongst the crowds!” roared Tran. “Many are city-dwellers, though I can see uniformed troopers using the civilians as cover!”

One-Three charged forwards with his multi-laser ready as trooper Caftan moved his Sentinel to stand beside Tran. More gunfire was hurled down the boulevard at the three Spectres, rebounding off their armour as the walkers manoeuvred in to position to cover the avenue with their weapons

“Return fire!” Perlman ordered, “All Spectres return fire, avoid taking out non-combatants!”

He knew the futility of his last order, there was no way the Sentinel operators would be able to pinpoint the enemy amongst the now panicking throngs of Yoevelians.

Gripping his heavy bolter controls, Perlman cursed the traitors and the immorality of their strategy, using citizens of the Imperium as a human shield against those charged with protecting them.

As one, the three Spectres opened fire.


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## greywulf

Hektor kicked the door to the final room open.

An overweight man, wearing nothing but the elaborately ornate coat of a Wraith Colonel and fishnet stockings, looked up in surprise from his position hunkered between the thighs of a fine-looking whore, the obviously uninterested woman lying on a bed littered with discarded obscura and frenzon dispensers.

“Hello, Colonel Acura, hope we aren’t interrupting anything,” Hektor said, lasrifle aimed at the skinny man, Jayne moving past her corporal to check the neighbouring room with her gun ready.

A chem-inhaler dropped from Colonel Acura’s plump fingers, thick vapour spilling from between his lips as he choked on the obscura fumes. 

“Who the frug are you?” Acura spluttered, the combination of stims in his system making his eyes bulge from their sockets.

“Just a couple of Greaves’ lads,” replied Hektor, “We’re here to give you a ride. The Boss wants a word with you.” He whipped Acura across the face with his lasrifle butt, the rebel general flopping to sprawl unconscious on his back between the legs of the grateful whore.

“Ma’am,” said Hektor with a courteous smile, “The Imperial Guard apologises for the intrusion.”

He held out his hand and helped the woman extract herself from under the obese colonel, the whore booting Acura in his generous stomach before sitting up on the bed. She ran an appraising eye over Hektor. “He’s still got time on the clock, handsome…”

“I’m gonna have to pass,” Hektor interrupted, “I’m spoken for.” 

“Shame. She’s a lucky girl.” Pouting, the whore lounged back on the bed to watch with amusement as the trooper struggled to hoist the fat Acura upright. 

Hektor glanced at the smiling woman, briefly wondering what Jayne would look preened and pampered. He’d never seen her in anything other then standard issue skivvies. Realising he was staring, the trooper coloured then kept on struggling with Acura’s considerable bulk. The whore giggled at the guardsman’s shyness, unused to men being so bashful.

Jayne returned from the neighbouring chamber with a wrinkled uniform in her arms, dropping the dirty clothes on the bed to help Hektor lift the limp colonel. The two Spectres strained as they hoisted the man upright by his jacket lapels, trying to ignore the rotund man’s exposed stim-induced enthusiasm.

As his fellow trooper struggled to put Acura in restraints, the rebel groggily putting up a fight, Hektor felt his throat vox buzz for attention. He activated it, but before he could speak, a hurried transmission cut him off.

“One-One, this is One-Two. We have incoming civilians. It is not yet confirmed if they are bearing arms or what their intentions are. Please advise, One-One.”

Hektor could hear the urgency in Perlman’s voice as the other trooper spoke, as well as a dull roar of voices in the background. There was the sudden ping of a ricochet before Tran’s gruff voice interrupted the transmission

“There are armed combatants amongst the crowds! Many are city-dwellers, though I can see uniformed troopers using the civilians as cover!”

“Return fire! All Spectres return fire, avoid taking out non-combatants!”

Perlman’s voice was suddenly replaced by the distinctive rapid booming of a heavy bolter, the communication chilled Hektor’s blood, his face betraying his disbelief. 

“What is it?” asked Jayne, ”What is-“

Hektor stopped her with a gesture and thumbed his vox.

“This is One-One, do not engage, repeat do not engage,” he broadcasted, “One-One and One-Five are exiting the target building with prize. Fall back to target building to provide cover for extraction.”

Taking one of Acura’s arms, Hektor yanked him to his feet and half-dragged him towards the door. “We have trouble,” he commented to Jayne quietly as the booming of gunfire could be heard outside the brothel.


----------



## Blackheart_101

Wow. Awsome writing, can't wait to see/read what happens next. Keep up the great work. +rep


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## greywulf

Thanks very much for commenting and the rep!
I was beginning to think that this was no good, no one had commented for a while.
Should have a new bit up soon


----------



## greywulf

The Yoevelians stood no chance against the onslaught. Trapped in the open of the boulevard, between the Spectres and the traitors with their civilian allies, they were unable to flee the exchange of fire.

Men, women and children screamed as the Spectres fired in to the crowd, aiming for the rebel guardsmen among the throng, who in turn returned fire indiscriminately, slicing down innocents to get a clear shot at the walkers. 

The crowd was quickly thinning, the hostiles losing their cover. Several of the traitors dragged Yoevelians directly in to the path of the incoming weapons fire, the civilians bucking and screaming as they died. The armed city-dwellers were confused by the actions of their would-be allies, many dropping their weapons and running.

Perlman watched a whore fall from a glancing shot to the shoulder from his own heavy bolter, the woman’s beautiful face contorted in agony as she slumped against the traitor guardsman holding her by the ponytail. The trooper returned fire, poking his lasrifle around his human shield to send a volley of energy towards the Spectres. Perlman could see the features of the turncoat on his zoomed HUD display.

“Emperor have mercy,” he muttered. “The sick frugger’s enjoying this.”

The heretic was grinning, even as the whore beat weakly at his face, streaking the trooper’s cheeks with blood from her fingers. He pulled her closer and cruelly kissed her on the cheek before tossing her to the floor. The guardsman grabbed at another Yoevelian, a teenage schoolgirl being dragged from the crowd by her father. The rebel trooper shot the man in the face before pulling the shrieking girl against him, laughing in her face as she thrashed against his chest. 

Tran’s walker began to step forward towards the attacking heretic guardsmen, the Sentinels servo-joints whining as the trooper adjusted the suspension in to the Combat Stance used for bracing the vehicle against the kick of extended bursts of weapons fire.

He opened fire, his assault cannon roaring as it s barrels spat death.

The trooper and girl were caught in the fury of the Sentinels assault cannon, jerking as high-velocity rounds hammered through their bodies, huge holes erupting in the permacrete of the concourse behind them.

The scene slowed in Perlman’s mind, the trooper unable to turn away.

The girl’s back was shredded open from the impact of the bullets across her torso, as if her flesh was being violently unzipped. Her body split in two, the lower half falling lifelessly to the floor. The teenager hung dying in the grasp of the rebel trooper, who tumbled dead backwards with his head pulped away, pulling her decapitated torso with him. The schoolgirl rolled over as they hit the floor, revealing her innocent features to Perlman. The glassy stare of her pretty dead eyes bored in to his soul.

Perlman forced himself to look at her youthful face, the girl not much older then his own sister had been when sickness had taken her.

The scene sped up as the line of gunfire carried on past the dead girl, carving up the street as it went.

“What have you done?” he murmured, his voice dulled by emotion. “You killed her. She was a child.”

“The needs of the Imperium prevail over the needs of its citizens,” replied Tran.

“She was a child!” Perlman screamed, thumping a fist angrily against his windscreen.

“When the people forget their duty they are no longer human and become something less than beasts. They have no place in the bosom of humanity nor in the heart of the Emperor. Let them die and be forgotten.”

Hektor’s voice suddenly blared from the vox speakers.

“This is One-One, to all Spectres. One-One and One-Five are exiting the target building with prize. Fall back to target building to provide cover for extraction.”

“Confirmed, One-One,” Perlman said, more then happy to comply with the order. Relieved, he let go of his heavy bolter controls. He angled his cockpit up and sent smoke grenades flying, the boom of the launcher ringing in the troopers’ ears as he moved his walker backwards towards the brothel.

“Confirmed, One-One,” echoed Caftan before joining Perlman in firing smoke canisters in to the boulevard, the grenades spilling thick vapor as they bounced off the permacrete and began to wreath the area in choking smoke.

Tran fired at random in to the fog with his assault cannon, backing his Sentinel up slowly to steady his aim. He didn’t care what his bullets hit in the cover of the smoke; his faith in the Imperial Creed was guiding his actions. 

Both the rebels and the Yoevelians had betrayed the Imperium and the Emperor in his eyes.

The rebels had forsaken their duty when they had followed Colonel Acura and sullied the Irregulars reputation by pillaging and raping their way across this planet.

The Yoevelians had allowed themselves to be used as pawns, and even now, when the rebels had revealed their true nature, they did nothing but panic and run, when a true servant of the Imperium would give their lives for its protection.

When the people forget their duty they are no longer human and become something less than beasts. They have no place in the bosom of humanity nor in the heart of the Emperor. Let them die and be forgotten.

These litany and countless others had been drilled in to him as a child by the missionaries while in the Schola Progenium, preparing him for his life long duty to protect the Imperium from both others and itself. 

A hymn to the Emperor rising from his lips, Tran unleashed another barrage in to the smoke.

He was rewarded with a return volley of heavy bolter fire, the blindly fired salvo hurtling past his cockpit in a blur of whistling metal.

A pair of combat jeeps erupted from the smoke.


----------



## greywulf

Yasmin guided her Sentinel through the ruins of the production yards, moving the walker at half speed to allow her more reaction time. The twisted pipes and shattered smelting pots littering the landscape could easily cause problems for an unobservant Sentinel operator. 

Her auspex indicated that the other Sentinels from Team Two had begun to arrive at the evac point, Two-Two and Two-Five already showing up as at rest beside the Chimera transport.

Yasmin pulled the shell casing pendent from under her jacket, and held it to her lips. She gently kissed the Aquilla stamped in the tarnished metal before wording a prayer for Heath to the Emperor in her mind.

Heath Canby, one of your warriors, has fallen bringing your justice to the Enemy
If it is his time to join you, then know that he truly deserves to be known as one of your Finest.

Emerging from the remnants of the manufactoriums, Yasmin’s Sentinel jogged across the open field to the waiting Chimera and halted beside the crouched forms of its fellows.

Yasmin looked out of the filth-streaked windscreen of her walker, watching the corpseman administer to Heath on a tarpaulin laid on the wet mud by the armoured transport. Ursula was holding Heath’s hand kneeling in the sludge at his side with her face pressed against his cheek, weeping as she murmured in his ear.

As she watched Ursula failing to keep her guardsman composure, Yasmin couldn’t help think of how she would feel seeing Hektor lying there, his body shredded and bloody. She doubted she would be able to control herself either. 

Popping the hatch, Yasmin climbed from her Sentinels cockpit and trudged over to the Chimera, pulling off her helmet as she neared Beatrice who was stood beside her own walker, watching the drama unfolding on the ground nearby.

“How is Heath?” Yasmin asked, pushing her choppy auburn fringe from her eyes as she approached.

Beatrice took a long drag from an lho stick she was holding before she answered, the older woman visible shaking.

“The bonesaw thinks he can save the lad, but probably not his legs,” she said, “Poor bastich is gonna need a pair of augmetics after this, Corporal.”

Yasmin bit her lip.

Heath had been under her command, and now he lay with his body in ruins. Only the skill of the Wraiths field surgeons could save him from ending up a discarded cripple. There were times Yasmin disliked being responsible for the lives of other guardsmen. This was only the latest one.

Walking forwards, Yasmin crouched next to Ursula and looked down at the twitching Heath. The pain-blockers flooding the trooper’s body with had left him in a synthetic coma, making it easier for the medic to attend to his injuries. His face and chest had been torn to shreds by flying cockpit wreckage, both of his legs broken and twisted.

The medic looked up from his work and nodded grimly to Yasmin, before signalling to the gunner and driver of the Chimera to help him load Heath in to the transport, the two troopers sharing an lho stick beside the vehicle.

As the guardsmen and medic arranged themselves to carry the wounded Spectre, Yasmin reached down and placed her hand over Ursula’s. Lightly, she squeezed the other woman’s tightly clenched fist, trying to coax her to let go of Heath.

“They need to get him onboard, Ursula,” Yasmin gently said, “You have to let go of him.”

“Would you want to let go?” Ursula asked softly, her face still pressed in to the gore-slicked nape of Heath’s neck, where her tears had cut streaks in the dirt and blood. “If it was Hektor? Would you want to let go of his hand, not knowing if he was going to live?”

Yasmin looked at Heath’s torn face, at the flaps of skin and dull white of exposed bone.

“No. I wouldn’t,” she answered. “But want has nothing to so with it. We are still on mission. You need to let him go.”

Yasmin clutched her pendent tight, praying for strength as she quoted Preacher Gemmell. 

“Take the pain of the faithful and use it.”

Ursula turned her face to Yasmin, her battle-marked face softened by the grief in her eyes. Her left cheek was sticky with Heath’s blood, her hair matted to the slick skin.

“Use it to unleash pain on the faithless,” she said, completing the litany.

Ursula leaned and kissed Heath on the forehead, before releasing his hand.

The medic and the Chimera operators moved in to use the tarp to lift the injured Spectre carefully, carrying him in to the armoured transports troop bay where he could be attached to the monitors and equipment needed to help the medic keep him alive until the Chimera could return behind the battle lines.

Yasmin crouched beside Ursula, still clutching the other woman’s hand as they watched Heath being loaded in to the Chimera.

Their vigil was disturbed by a shout from the transporters Commander, the woman hurrying from the rear of the vehicle past the makeshift stretcher. 
“There is an emergency vox coming in from Team One, Corporal Tinton,” she said, passing a vox unit to Yasmin, who thumbed the device active.

There was a pop as the channel opened, then the sound of gunfire burst from the vox-units tiny speaker. A hurried voice struggled to be heard over the din.

“bzzzzt…. We have a Sentinel down and….bzzzzt….crippled. A lucky hit from a rocket launcher has taken one of….bzzzzt”

Yasmin felt her heart drop in her chest.

“This is Two-One. Say again. Which Spectre is down?” she asked


----------



## greywulf

Thats the end of the first section of this project.

Anyone got any crit/comments etc so far?


----------



## greywulf

The pair of combat jeeps burst from the smoke cover, their drivers peering from behind their reinforced windscreens. The men whooped as they gunned their engines and tore towards the Spectres.


Only Tran’s veteran reflexes saved his Sentinel’s legs being taken out by one of the armoured jeeps, as the traitor driver steered towards the plasteel limbs to ram his vehicle in to them. 
The Spectre kicked out sideways, spreading his gait and causing the combat jeep to roar harmlessly beneath the walker, the rebel gunner hanging on to the mounted heavy bolter in the back of the combat buggy agog as the piston-powered legs of the Sentinel passed by.

The idiotic expression was the one he died with, a well-placed shot from Caftan’s multi-laser removing his head from his shoulders, managing to aim past the plasteel shield fastened to the traitor’s gun mount.

The second vehicle gunned past Tran, it’s driver heading towards the brothel. 

As the rebels shot past in their vehicle, Tran used the HUD display on his windscreen to steer backwards after the jeep, his cockpit facing towards the smoke cover and any potential new contacts.

Perlman brought his heavy bolter back online, worn circuits in his control panel buzzing as the Sentinel responded as quickly as it could to the demands of it’s operator.

“Come on, darlin’,” Perlman murmured, finger tapping lightly on his trigger as he waited, using his feet controls to sidestep slowly as the jeep approached, trying to move to a better firing angle. Looking at the magnified image of the combat buggy, he watched the two rebels in the rear of the vehicle struggling to bring a mounted rocket launcher to bear as the potholed surface of the street jostled the jeep’s suspension. 

A ready light finally came on amongst the clutter of the Spectre’s weapons panel and he sent a burst of heavy bolter rounds at the weaving jeep, the high-powered bullets churning up the road as Perlman tracked his weapon after the rebel vehicle. The jeep gunned past the Spectre, who swung his cockpit after the rebels as quickly as the walker’s servos would allow.

Perlman was just in to time to catch a glimpse of the rocket launched by the traitors before the propelled warhead impacted with the knee joint of his Sentinel’s left leg, destroying the supporting servos and pitching the walker forwards.

Perlman held his arms up defensively as his view become one of worn permacrete before his cockpit slammed in to the street nose first, the impact shattering the Sentinel’s windscreen and showering the Spectre in razor sharp shards. 

Perlman’s face slammed in to the control panel and he slumped limply in his safety harness.

Caftan watched his fellow trooper’s walker hit the ground, horror on the man’s face as the Spectre sprawled on it’s front with the jagged stump of it’s left limb thrashing wildly.

“Throne alive,” Caftan breathed, panic beginning to build within him as bullets whistled past his cockpit, the harassing jeeps two targeting his Sentinel.

Shaking as he guided his walker towards his fallen Spectre, Caftan thumbed his vox on.

“One-One, this is One-Three. Please respond,” he said, trying to keep his fear in check.

There was a long pause of static, then Hektor’s voice replied.

“This is One-One. What’s the situation, One-Three?”

Caftan sent lasfire after the rocket launcher carrying jeep as it headed towards him, catching one of the rebels in the rear compartment and sending him spinning from the vehicle.

Swallowing hard, Caftan breathed slowly as he responded to Hektor’s question.

“One-Two is down, his Sentinel is crippled. Please advise, One-One.”

There was another long pause of buzzing, before Hektor answered.

“One-Three, broadcast to the evac Chimera. Advise them of the situation. We are coming out with prize now.”

“Confirmed, One-One,” said Caftan, glancing at the twitching Sentinel of Perlman before moving closer to the brothel to provide cover for Hektor and Jayne. He opened a channel to Tran.

“One-Three to One-Four. One-Two is down, fall back and provide close support for prize evac.”

Tran’s response was calm, punctuated by bursts of weapons fire.

“I saw One-Two hit the deck, Caftan. Stupid frugger never learned to cover his zones properly. Am falling back to aid evac.”

Stunned by Tran’s harsh comment, Caftan opened an emergency channel to the Chimera waiting at the evac point.

“Evac One, this is One-Three. One-Two is down. I repeat, One-Two is down. We have a Sentinel down and crippled. A lucky hit from a rocket launcher has taken one of One-Two’s legs out. We require assistance to aid evac of prize. Respond.”

There was a popping as the transmission was encoded and sent to the waiting Chimera.


----------



## V.Valorum

Very nice story so far.

Point of interest - "HUD" stands for 'Heads Up Display'. Otherwise, props.


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## greywulf

Thnaks for the comment and the rep, V.V. Maybe tactical display may be a better descript for the viewscreen info, if HUD is being wrongly used.
Its nice to know when people are enjoying my work, it gives me motivation to try harder.
Come on guys, I know people are reading this, the views are going up! :biggrin: But noone is really commenting!  Leave me a message after you have a look, I like to know what people think about my projects.


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## waltzmelancholy_07

I dare say it was rather enjoyable... In fact, the first line of the story hooked me in an instant... 

It intrigued me, seeing the phrase "I love you" in a 40k fanfiction... And I thought my story would be the first... :laugh:...

Well, anyway... A writer of your caliber here in Heresy is rare now a days... Looking forward to your upd8s...

And have a rep...

Cheers!....


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## greywulf

waltzmelancholy_07 said:


> A writer of your caliber here in Heresy is rare now a days


WOW!

Thanks very much!
I hope to have some more up soon, Im working on a new post about three posts after this, and I like to store posts up in case I have to go back and reedit the story due to something new I come up with.


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## waltzmelancholy_07

greywulf said:


> WOW!
> 
> Thanks very much!
> I hope to have some more up soon, Im working on a new post about three posts after this, and I like to store posts up in case I have to go back and reedit the story due to something new I come up with.


Well it is true... I mean you can just imagine last year when three or five skillful authors were posting magnificent stories simultaneously... And there was one who posted story after story of pure brilliance... 

Well anyway... Hope you post the upd8s soon...

Cheers!


----------



## greywulf

Yasmin stared at the vox unit in her hand, praying for an answer.
“This is Two-One, respond,” she repeated, keeping her voice level in spite of the panic growing in her chest.

There was no reply to the request, nothing but the sound of static as Yasmin waited, heart pounding. Absently touching her pendent, she tried to focus on the words of the report, not the notion in her mind that Hektor’s walker could be down.

Ursula looked at her corporal, seeing the internal conflict clearly in the other woman’s blue eyes.

She herself was dealing with a similar battle, her ingrained loyalty to the Spectres and the Wraiths being tested by the heartache of seeing her lover’s shredded body. The only thing stopping her from losing the emotional battle raging in her mind was the thought of taking her pain and channelling it through the spinning barrels of her assault cannon.

Ursula knew it would be what Heath would want her to do, rather then sit and cry in the mud while their friends and fellow troopers were in danger.

Taking a cleansing deep breath, Ursula stood up, using the back of a glove to attend to the patch of Heath’s blood that still marked her face. 

“What are your orders, ma’am?” she asked Yasmin. “Are we heading back in hot?”

Yasmin tapped the vox unit against her chin, her brow furrowing as she focused on the task at hand.

The sound of a scout Sentinel’s cushioned suspension being pushed to the limit snapped her head up, the sight of the vehicle striding between the ruins of a pair of smokestacks momentarily making her heart jump until she recognised the markings of Neyo’s walker. 

As Neyo guided his Sentinel in beside his fellow Spectre’s vehicle, Beatrice walked over with her lho stick dangling from her lips to explain the situation.

“Throne damn it,” Yasmin swore under her breath, before rising from her crouch and flinging the vox back to the transport commander.

“You tread heads are going to take our trooper back to the infirmary,” Yasmin told the woman. “On your way in, I want you to contact The Boss and let him know the situation.”

The Chimera commander caught the lobbed com-device, holstering it on her wide belt.

“And what should I say the situation is?” she asked.

Yasmin pulled on her combat helmet, securing the bulky headgear beneath her chin before motioning for her team to mount up.

“That the Spectres are still on mission,” she replied, “And that Colonel Greaves can expect his guest to arrive shortly.”

As the three remaining members of her team prepped their Sentinel’s, Yasmin tucked her pendent safely away before jogging over to her own vehicle, leaving the Chimera crew to finish securing the fallen Heath and report the recent events to Wraith command.


----------



## greywulf

Hektor emerged from the brothel in to a war zone.

The street was littered with the dead and dying, citizens and rebel troopers alike clutching at horrific wounds or lying still with their organs exposed to the harsh sun that hung overhead like a baleful eye.

Coughing as the bitter tang of grenade smoke caught in his throat, Hektor shoved Acura forwards towards the pair of Sentinels crouched at rest in front of the building, the fat traitor stumbling as his high heels caught on the chipped cobbles.

Acura fell and landed on his face in the street, unable use his bound hands to break the fall. Neither Jayne nor Hektor attempted to stop the heretic from tumbling over, both Spectres moving past the groaning man to survey the combat playing out in the boulevard.

Perlman’s Sentinel was face down, one leg nothing but a twisted stump; the mangled limb slowly pumping as it’s damaged servos malfunctioned.

A pair of combat jeeps was roaring around the wide street, the armoured vehicles drivers unashamedly powering over casualties and the dead as they attempted to outmanoeuvre the two members of Team Two that were still combat effective.

There was a flash of lasfire as Caftan scored a hit, the youngest member of the Spectres catching a member of the rocket crew on one of the jeeps, the rebel screaming as his left side was sliced open and he was sent spinning from the rear compartment.

Caftan’s Sentinel stomped towards the brothel, the trooper visible through the stained windscreen of his cockpit. Hektor could see him sending a vox call; the young man animated talking in to his helmet mike as he steered.

“Get powered up,” Hektor said to Jayne. “We’ll load this fat bastich up.”

With a nod of confirmation, the female trooper jogged to her Sentinel and began to climb up in to the vehicle’s cockpit. 

“D’ya really think you stupid funters are gonna get outta this city now?” Acura grunted, a grin on his makeup-smeared lips. “You boys are making a lot of noise, it’s gonna get more attention then you and your little scout walkers can handle.” The traitor grunted as he struggled to his knees in the dirt, his stockings tearing on the cobbles as he thrashed about.

Hektor ignored the remark, uninterested in engaging the man in a conversation. He instead watched Tran and Caftan duel with the two combat jeeps. There was an explosion as Tran destroyed one of the vehicles with a well-placed volley of cannon fire, shredding through its bonnet grill and rupturing the promethium tank and engine inside. The jeep was flung through the air end over end by the blast and sent tumbling through the front window of a casino in a shower of painted glass and burning metal. 

The remaining jeep roared away, its crew deciding to retreat before they shared the fate of their fellow turncoats.

With a whine of servos, Jayne’s Sentinel rose up to full height before turning to present its back to Hektor and the traitor guardsman. Grabbing hold of Acura’s arm and dragging him forward, Hektor moved towards the cargo container welded to the rear of Jayne’s walker, the ceramite box popping open as Jayne released it by remote while powering up her weapons systems.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about me and mine, you fat funter,” remarked Jayne as he bundled the protesting Acura in to the cargo container. “I’d be more concerned about what mood the Boss is going to be in when we deliver you back to base.”

“I don’t give a snit what that bas-“ began Acura, before Jayne cold-cocked him in the face, busting his nose with the quick jab. The Spectre sargeant slammed the containers lid shut, the tight seal muting the traitor’s resulting howl of pain and string of insults.

After checking that the jury-rigged oxygen supply was feeding to the storage box, Hektor ran to his own Sentinel, thumbing his vox channel open as he clambered up the scout walker’s side. “One-Three and Four, this is One-One. Advise of current effectiveness.” He began to strap himself in to his pilot throne as he waited on the responses of his men.

“This is One-Three. My ammo is almost depleted, and my servos have been damaged by small arms fire. I’m still able to fight, sir, though I don’t know how much longer my walker can keep functioning. I'm unable to get a long-distance channel on my vox, I think the transmitter has been damaged in the fight.”

“One-Four here. My assault cannons hydraulic systems are overheating, there are warning runes lighting up on all my panels. But the grace of the Emperor is with his chosen, I know that He will not let me fail in my righteous duty.”

Fastening his harness tightly across his shoulders, Hektor began to thumb his Sentinel to life, the whirs and rumblings filling the cockpit soothing his troubled mind as he processed the information from Tran and Caftan. He touched the photo of Yasmin wedged into the frame of the Sentinel’s smeared windscreen. 

I hope you are having better luck, sweetheart

Taking a deep breath, Hektor reopened his vox channel. “This is One-One. Three and Four, escort Five and the prize to the evac zone immediately. I will stay and extract Two.” Keeping any emotion from his voice, Hektor sent his orders as he jogged his Sentinel towards the prone form of Perlman’s walker. Confirmations from his team rang in his ears, barely audible over the laboured groaning of his vehicle’s still charging power plant.

Stroking the pict of Yasmin, Hektor took a deep breath as he steered his vehicle forwards.


----------



## greywulf

The nest of heretics had been disturbed.

The actions of the Spectres were throwing the traitorous ex -members of their parent regiment in to confusion. The loss of long-range communications and any cohesive structure caused by Yasmin and her team destroying the Salamander was the source of great alarm. Whole squads began to panic as they found themselves alone, with only the boom and howl of the Irregulars artillery ringing in their ears in place of the barked orders of their superiors. The abandoned troopers retreated from the frontline and began to head deeper in to the town as they searched for refuge against the rage of Colonel Acura. 

The remaining Spectres of Team Two were finding the fleeing turncoats to be a hindrance.

“By the Emperor’s grace, this is becoming hard going!”

Cursing to herself, Yasmin swung her Sentinel to track a group of enemy troopers, raking them with assault cannon fire as she guided her Sentinel through Yoevel’s pleasure borough. The high-velocity ammo shredded through the body armour of the turncoats easily, leaving them twisted and dying in the street.

Releasing the trigger of her cannon, Yasmin cast her eyes over the HUD map on her viewscreen, calculating the distance left. Only three more blocks divided the Sentinel pilot from the last known location of Hektor, and the very real idea that she would find him dead was ever present in her mind, making her heart race faster which each step of her walker. She was beginning to worry that her judgement had been clouded by emotion, that her love for Hektor had caused her to steer her ill-prepared team senselessly back in to hostile territory.

And that territory was getting more and more hostile by the second.

The sudden increase in enemy resistance was slowing Yasmin and her team down, as the Spectres and their lightly armoured and unprepared Sentinels were forced to battle with larger numbers of the turncoats while pushing towards the location of Target One, the brothel previously identified as the location of the rebel Colonel Acura. The Spectres had divided, hoping that the tactic would make it easier for them to continue and conceal themselves from the enemy.

To Yasmin’s left, Neyo erupted in to view in a break in the buildings, the Spectre steering through the remnants of a festival, colourful banners tangling round the legs of his Sentinel as it sprinted along. She could see that the integrity of his cockpit had been compromised from heavy fire, the wide cracks running across its windscreen telling a violent story.

Yasmin quickly opened a channel to her fellow Spectre before he become lost from view when the two Spectres became separated again within the streets of Yoevel, eager to check on Neyo’s condition. “Two-Four, this is Two-One. How are you holding up, Neyo?” As she waited for a reply, Yasmin kept an eye on the HUD display, checking the street map for any obvious shortcuts.

“This place is going to the Warp fast,” replied Neyo. “I can’t take any more direct fire, my controls are lighting up like crazy, telling me that every system is compromised.” 

Yasmin opened her mouth to order the other Spectre to return to the evac point, but his voice cut her off as it echoed from the vox again.

“But I’m not turning around, before you try and send me back,” he said. “Those are my friends out there too and there’s no throne-damned way I’m just going do nothing to help get them out.“

Yasmin could see Neyo looking at her through the damaged side panel of his cockpit windscreen, the determined look on his face obvious even across the distance between the two Spectres. Slowly, Yasmin nodded in acknowledgment. The resolve etched in Neyo’s features was enough to help calm any apprehensions still present in her mind about her judgement.

Neyo’s face was suddenly replaced by a storm of splintered plasteel and fragments of shattered windscreen, a rocket detonating against his Sentinel with an ear-shattering explosion.

The damaged walker tumbled sideways as Yasmin screamed in fury at her fellow Spectre’s death, for she knew that no one could survive such destruction. She gritted her teeth in an attempt to hold back the tears of anguish that were welling inside her, knowing that she could not slow down her own Sentinel to reclaim Neyo’s body.

Before the street that her fallen comrade had been traversing was blocked from her view behind a casino, Yasmin caught a glimpse of Neyo’s attacker through the flames and smoke billowing from the wrecked Sentinel.

The sight made the blood in her veins run cold.

“By the Throne,” she murmured as she was carried away from the scene by the long strides of her walker. “ When all seems to be against us, the Emperor seeks to test my resolve even further.” The power plant of her Sentinel roared in protest as she drove the machine even harder, trying to force every ounce of speed from the walker in an effort to create distance between her and the enemy she knew would be now stalking her.

Risking having her position broadcasted to any nearby turncoat unit that may be monitoring the vox network, Yasmin opened a channel to her team, including Hektor’s team out of the hope that they may be able receive the broadcast.

“This is Two-One to all Spectres, repeat this is Two-One calling all Spectres able to receive this signal. All Spectres be aware that the Hellion’s have been sighted, and they have already taken out Neyo. I say again, Neyo is dead.” Taking a deep breath, Yasmin clasped her pendant with trembling fingers before continuing. “Two’s are to continue to Target One location, any Ones able to receive this, please respond.”

Her vox crackled as she kept the channel open, praying that one of Hektor’s team would reply as her own team signalled affirmative, both Ursula and Beatrice’s responses flashing up on her HUD.

A pair of rapid beeps indicated an incoming transmission, and Yasmin felt her heart race in excitement as she waited for her vox to sync.

The feeling of exhilaration was quickly banished as harsh breathing emerged from her vox speakers, 

“Hello Yasmin,” said a cold voice. “It’s nice to see you again.”


----------



## toffster

Great so far, looking absolutely great. Just one thing. Maybe a little more description of scenery or longer paragraphs, it all passes a little to quick. Otherwise it's VERY good so far.


----------



## greywulf

toffster said:


> Great so far, looking absolutely great. Just one thing. Maybe a little more description of scenery or longer paragraphs, it all passes a little to quick. Otherwise it's VERY good so far.


Hmmm, I was going for a fat action style, similar to Matthew Riley, where alot is left out to make sure that the story flows quickly.

Maybe its going too quick.


----------



## greywulf

As Hektor neared Perlman’s Sentinel he was able to see through the damaged windscreen of the fallen vehicle.

Perlman was slumped in his pilot chair, blood splashed across the split plexi-glass against which his forehead was resting. As the thought that Perlman could be dead entered his mind, Hektor brought his own walker to a halt beside his fellow Spectre’s downed Sentinel where it lay in the middle of the street.

“You better still be alive, my friend,” murmured Hektor, releasing his harness as he relaxed the suspension of his walker and let the craft settle in to Rest Stance. “You owe me credits from our last game of Request.” The Sentinel lowered, it’s legs folding beneath it in a whine of servos and the shriek of grinding metal as the machine sank down.

As Hektor popped the exit hatch, the vox of his walker crackled in to life, Jayne’s quiet voice backed by the chatter of gunfire as it emerged from the unit’s speaker.

“One-One, this is One-Five. We are on route to the extract zone. We are encountering increased resistance. Advise you to extract immediately.”

Grabbing his lasrifle from its seat holster, Hektor switched to his helmet vox and clambered from his Sentinel, quickly touching the pict of Yasmin as he left the cockpit and vaulted to the street beside the vehicle.

“This is One-One. Thanks for the heads up, Jayne,” Hektor replied over the vox, moving to kneel beside Perlman’s damaged walker as he spoke. “Push through. The Boss needs to receive the prize ASAP.”

“Confirmed, Hektor. Stay safe. One-Five out.”

As the vox went quiet, Hektor began to tug on the emergency handle of Perlman’s cockpit, the lever finally relenting to the Spectre sergeant before activating a string of tiny charges that popped along the rim of the Sentinel’s roof, the machinegun snapping of the explosives leaving Hektor’s ears ringing.

Muttering a string of curses, Hektor shook his head to try to clear the buzzing from his ears as he pulled on the now loose seal of the downed walker’s hatch, being careful to not cause more damage to the vehicle’s already cracked windscreen by being overzealous and possibly injure Perlman in the process of rescuing him.

If he still lives.

Trying to suppress the thought, the Spectre opened the hatch.

Hektor looked in to the cockpit, trying to ignore the ever-increasing boom and clatter of weapons fire and focus on the still motionless Perlman. He knew that it would only be a matter of time before the traitors arrived in force, expecting to find Colonel Acura within the nearby brothel, not a pair of loyalist troopers and the remnants of a bloody conflict.

Hektor stripped off a glove and reached out to place a pair of fingers against Perlman’s throat to search for a heartbeat, his investigation finding a weak pulse. “You must have the favour of the Emperor today,” Hektor commented, punching the quick release buckle on the still motionless Spectre’s harness while supporting the man’s head and neck.

Perlman slumped forward as his harness unclasped, the shift in the man’s posture causing him to moan groggily.

“Ah, you are still with us,” Hektor said softly, carefully turning his fellow Spectre on to his back before pulling him through the hatch of the Sentinel. Laying him on the cobbled street, Hektor began to check Perlman for obvious injuries, a quick pat down of the man’s body revealing one of his forearms to be fractured and at least two ribs broken

“I’m surprised you aren’t screaming in agony,” Hektor commented, as he wiped blood from Perlman’s face while searching his combat webbing for a tube of adhesive resin.

“Ah, I’ve had worse,” murmured Perlman in reply, coughing as he tried to sit up, his sargeant gently using his knee to keep the injured man still.

Hektor smiled, opening the resin tube while pressing the edges of the gash on Perlman’s forehead together. “I doubt it, my friend.” Squeezing thick adhesive in to the wound, he held it together while the resin hardened. 

The adhesive was made to seal damage to ducts and fuel pipes, but had found a variety of more inventive uses amongst the Sentinel pilots of the Irregulars. 

As Hektor waited, he looked around the street.

There were bodies everywhere, many civilians. Men, woman and children were laying with their bodies in tatters, blood filling the cracks in the cobbles beneath them. The Spectre knew that many of the dead had been sent to the Emperor by the hand of his own men, a thought that filled him with anger and regret.

“There was nothing we could do,” Perlman commented, seeing the emotion in Hektor’s eyes. “We had to defend ourselves. We had no choice. There was nothing we could do to save them.”

“There never is,” replied Hektor. “And there never will be. But still we fight. That is the hand the Emperor has dealt us, my friend.”

Satisfied that the wound was sealed, at least temporarily, Hektor told Perlman to wait before clambering inside the cockpit of the downed Sentinel. Returning with the other man’s lasrifle, he helped him stand, Perlman grunting in agony as his damaged ribs ground together.

“Here, take this,” Hektor said, handing over Perlman’s rifle. “We need to get back to the extract point ASAP, so lets get saddled up.”

Nodding, Perlman slung the rifle’s strap over one shoulder and began to walk painfully forwards Hektor’s walker. “Well come on then. Let’s not waste time chatting here like old women.”

With a smile, Hektor started to follow his fellow Spectre.

Then he noticed the group of troopers emerging from an alleyway beside the target brothel, the turncoats raising their lasrifles in the direction of Hektor and Perlman.

“Oh frug me,” Hektor muttered.


----------



## greywulf

“Hello Yasmin. It’s nice to see you again.”

The voice emerging from her vox speaker sent a shudder down Yasmin’s spine.

It belonged to the leader of Hellion squad and the operator of the hulking Scourge pattern Sentinel that had loomed through the smoke and fire belching from Neyo’s burning walker, the intimidating tank killer’s weapons arms wreathed in rocket exhaust smoke as it had strode towards its fallen target.

It belonged to Sergeant Tiana Rakish, the woman Yasmin had jilted for Hektor Sturm.

“Hello, Tiana,” Yasmin replied, keeping her voice level as she spoke, checking the rear-view display set in her control panel. “I must say that the feeling isn’t mutual. I had hoped to find you a corpse.” Though she found no sign of her on the monitor, Yasmin knew that Tiana would be lurking nearby, using the maze of streets as cover. “But here you are, once again causing sorrow to as many people as you possibly can.”

Yasmin found that her heart was racing, no amount of training helping her block out the emotions raging within her as she tried to focus on piloting her walker down the cluttered street.

The death of Neyo had been a violent and shocking reminder of the destruction that Tiana’s skill could bring to a battlefield. Yasmin had once admired that deadly expertise, the effortless grace with which Tiana had piloted her Sentinel. It was one of the things that had drawn the young Trooper Tinton to her.

Yasmin took a deep breath, trying to focus her anger and uncertainty.

“Throne damn you, Tiana Rakish,” she said. “I will kill you before you can hurt anyone else that I care for. I swear it.”

“You didn’t always say my name with venom,” replied Tiana with a chuckle. “Once upon a time, you used to moan it in my ear.” 

Memories of their fiery liaison flooded back to Yasmin, a passionate time that had ended when Hektor Sturm had entered her life and she had found there was more to being lovers then heated intimacy.

Yasmin stared at the map on her windscreen. A blinking red rune marked the location of Target One. Two blocks to go Framing those four words in her mind, the Spectre tried to ignore the second blinking rune warning that the ammunition for her assault cannon was spent. 

“I will find you,” Tiana purred cruelly. “And when I do, I will make sure that you pay for leaving me. I’ve been itching to finish the little remodelling job I started on your pretty face.”

Yasmin involuntarily touched her right cheek, the thin line of scar tissue marking its skin a parting gift from Tiana. Yasmin focused on her litany, trying to block out the laughter that started to fill her cockpit. 

Two blocks to go

“What’s wrong, beautiful? Why so silent? I seem to remember that you weren’t so quiet during our cold nights together.“ Tiana’s voice filtered from the vox-speaker, mocking Yasmin. “Tell me, does Hektor ever make you scream like I used to?”

The taunt struck home, and Yasmin punched her windscreen in fury. Before she could strike back with an angry reply, the Spectre heard the explosive shriek of a launching missile behind her

“Peek-a-boo,” hissed Tiana.

Yasmin instinctively reacted.

Her Sentinel groaned in protest as she dropped the craft quickly in to Rest Stance, the walker slamming down on its haunches against the cobbles, sparks flying as plasteel struck against stone.

Yasmin’s desperate manoeuvre saved her life.

The propelled krak warhead missed its intended target, the heat from its engine scorching the Sentinel’s hull as it passed overhead.

Yasmin watched the missile as it roared through the air away from her, the Spectre already raising her vehicle’s stance to try and find an escape route. 

As she turned, Yasmin found Tiana’s Sentinel standing behind her. She instinctively jerked the trigger of her cannon, the warning runes flashing up in the centre of her viewscreen telling her what she already knew, that her ammo was depleted. 

The armoured bulk of the Hellion’s walker was filling the alley, the heavy plating covering its hull pitted and scarred from recent gunfire. The large Sentinel was built to withstand more then an infantry trooper could throw at it, being designed as a killer of armour. Its weapons would easily slice the hull of Yasmin’s Sentinel to pieces.

With a whine of servos, the weapon arms on either side of the vehicle moved to point their rocket pods at the smaller Scout Sentinel.

“Let’s see you wriggle your pretty ass out of this one, you dirty little slattern,” Tiana said over the vox. “I’m going to enjoy watching you burn, baby.”

Though Yasmin couldn’t see Tiana’s face behind the thick shielding cover her cockpit, she knew that the other woman’s face would be split by a cruel smile.

Yasmin closed her eyes and touched the pendant between her breasts.

She heard the double whump of a pair of rockets being launched.

I love you, Hektor Sturm

The comforting darkness behind her closed eyes became bleached by a violent light.

Emperor guide me


----------



## waltzmelancholy_07

Wow!:shok:... Your descriptions, especially the past of Yasmin and Tiana, are downright marvelous... 

Is Yasmin truly dead?... Bit of a pity though if she is...

Well anyway.... 

Expecting the upd8s soon....

Cheers!

P.S.
Can't REP you yet... Have to spread it first...


----------



## greywulf

Tah very much for the comments.
I was beggining to wonder if anyone was still actually enjoying reading this thing.

Next update up.....

NOW


----------



## greywulf

“Oh frug me,” Hektor muttered.

He dashed towards his Sentinel, yelling for Perlman to get to cover behind the crouched walker.

Perlman tried to fire his lasrifle one handed, his broken forearm unable to support the bulky weapon. Even with the support provided from the strap over his shoulder, Perlman’s aim went wide, harmlessly scorching the front of the raided brothel and missing the traitor guardsmen.

As the rebels returned fire, Perlman clumsily skidded behind Hektor’s Sentinel. He felt his ribs grind as he thudded hard against the hull of the vehicle, hissing in agony at the pain. “Frug me!” he grunted, clutching at his side. The gloved fingers he pulled back were wet with blood.

Hektor slid in to cover beside his fellow Spectre, firing wildly in the direction of the enemy before ducking down to avoid a return volley of lasfire. Panting hard, Hektor glanced at Perlman. His face was pale, his breathing shallow. Hektor noticed the blood soaking through the other man’s uniform, a dark stain spreading over his broken ribs.

“Don’t waste time worrying about me,” commented Perlman, noticing Hektor’s concerned look. “Worry about the troopers with guns shooting at us!” Coughing hard, he tasted blood on his lips. Muttering a curse, the Spectre held back the choking fit he could feel building within him. 

Hektor peered round the side of his parked Sentinel at the enemy troopers, staying low to the ground as he did so. 

The brothel was only a short distance away ,the rebels now using the barricade of combat jeeps in front of the building as cover. The traitors were close enough for the Spectre to see the dirt-smeared faces of the traitor guardsmen and the defaced W emblem on their chest plates. They were tired and fraught, their grenade belts empty, left with nothing but their lasrifles to fight with. Hektor could see the frightened panic in the eyes.

“They are going to be angry when they find out the fat bastich isn’t where they left him,” commented Hektor, as he watched a large portion of the guardsmen stack up beside the smashed door of the brothel before entering the building.

“So what’s the plan?” Perlman asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his gloved hand before propping the barrel of his lasrifle on the nose of Hektor’s Sentinel. Bridging the weapon helped his aim, and he scored a hit on a turncoat who was stupid enough to raise her head out of cover from behind a jeep. The woman tumbled over the bonnet of the vehicle to the floor, her eyes bubbling as the weapon’s beam roasted her exposed face. Her fellow troopers ignored her dying screams as they returned fire in the direction of the two Spectres. 

“We need to get the frug out of here,” Hektor replied to Perlman, snapping a few las bursts of his own in reply to the turncoats flurry. “But we can’t mount up while these bastiches are taking pot shots at us.”

Both Spectres knew there was no way of getting out of Yoevel alive. The odds stacked up against them were too great. They were trapped.

Perlman gritted his teeth, the pain in his side overwhelming. He was certain that one of his lungs had been punctured in the Sentinel crash, the blood lacing each laboured breath confirming this. I’m dying. The thought entered Perlman’s mind as he looked over at Hektor, the younger man crouched with his back to Perlman by the Sentinel’s power plant, aiming the barrel of his lasrifle between the engine’s power cables. 

I remember the day he was promoted, Perlman thought with a smile. He was nothing but a good-looking punk kid who could operate his Sentinel well. Coughing, the Spectre fought the urge to scream in agony Clutching his chest, he waited for the pain to subside. He’s still a good-looking kid, he mused. But I’d follow him in to the belly of a daemon. Perlman glanced at Hektor, pride swelling his weary chest as he did so. You deserve to get out of this frugging mess alive. He slung his rifle’s strap over one shoulder and rose from his crouch, taking a steadying breath as the sudden movement made his head swim. And I’m going to make sure you do

Hektor turned in time to see Perlman leave the cover of the Sentinel and run towards the barricade. “Come back here, you stupid bastich!” he screamed,as the traitor guardsmen fired upon the Spectre sprinting towards their position, the man getting halfway to the barricade before they reacted.

Perlman roared as he was caught in the shoulder by a glancing shot, the blast of energy smouldering the surface of his body armour. “Come on, you bastiches!” he yelled. “Is that the best you can do?” Las fire burning the air around him, he arrived at the barricade. 

I have served as your instrument , Perlman prayed silent. Now I ask you to help me to serve one last time With a grunt, he jumped on to the bonnet of a combat jeep. A beam of lasfire stabbed through his stomach, the Spectre ignoring the burning pain as he leapt to the ground below. With a flick, Perlman exposed the control panel of his rifle’s energy pack.

“Thrones sake,” spat Hektor angrily, as he watched Perlman vault over the barricade, the Spectre swinging his lasrifle like a club as he landed awkwardly amongst the enemy troopers. “Perlman, you dumb frug!” Hektor began to fire at the turncoats as they panicked, scoring hits amongst them, though he knew he could do nothing to save his friend. “What are you doing, you fool?”

Perlman set the power pack of his weapon to overload even as the butt of an enemy trooper’s rifle smashed in to the back of his head, knocking him to the ground. Groaning, the Spectre rolled over, only to receive a bayonet to the shoulder. Hissing in pain, Perlman grinned up at the traitor pinning him to the ground. “See you in the next life, frugger,” the Spectre said as his lasrifle exploded.


----------



## toffster

Havnt been following this in a while going to take some tome to read it. Thanks for the spoiler lol didn't know she was dead, was expecting it at some point but :cray:


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## greywulf

Glad to have you back on board Toffster!:victory:

Hope you enjoy/enjoyed catching up....

Next section up..
...
...
NOW


----------



## V.Valorum

_“Emperor guide you, Perlman Ronn,”_

I had a feeling that was the look of that character.

Great story, as always.


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## greywulf

V.Valorum said:


> _“Emperor guide you, Perlman Ronn,”_
> 
> I had a feeling that was the look of that character.
> 
> Great story, as always.


:good:

Someone got the name reference!!!

Noone else who has read it seems to have clued.
Thanks for the comment, more should be up soon


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## crabpuff

greywulf said:


> :good:
> 
> Someone got the name reference!!!
> 
> Noone else who has read it seems to have clued.
> Thanks for the comment, more should be up soon


I was waiting for some hellboy remark or a war never changes quote.


----------



## greywulf

I named the character Perlman as I was half-watching hellboy II while writing his first scene.
I often get inspiration for character names like that.
His death is the first time he needed a surname, so I chose to complete the tribute with "Ronn"

Thanks for commenting, crabpuff


----------



## V.Valorum

I always remember him as the giant of unusually good grammar from Alien 4.
"I am not the man with whom to fuck."

Exquisite.


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## Fumble Tumble

awesome story going on there, im so hoping she isn't dead, just wounded or something, otherwise the story wont be the same


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## crabpuff

I disagree if she is gone then it will allow for more depth to the story, more realism too. People die in war, especially the imperial guard.


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## greywulf

Oooh my writing started a mini debate there!

Wether Yasmin is dead seems to be the thing that everyone focuses on. I hope that means Ive made an interesting character with her.

Thanks for reading and commenting guys.

Next bit......


----------



## greywulf

Authors Note-

The previous story post has been deleted to reorder the story and insert the below section in the right place.

Apologies for any confusion.


----------



## greywulf

“What’s wrong, beautiful? Why so silent? I seem to remember that you weren’t so quiet during our cold nights together. Tell me, does Hektor ever make you scream like I used to?”

Tiana licked her lips at the thought of Yasmin squealing in her arms, the motion causing the recently branded snake on her left cheek to itch. She scratched idly at the blistered symbol. Not for the first time, she felt the serpent whisper in her mind, the coaxing words magnifying the deep hatred and anger she felt towards Yasmin Tinton.

you trusted her with your heart and she destroyed you she was the first woman you let yourself actually feel something for and she ended up parting her legs for some meathead she deserves to die for what she did to you the dirty little slattern kill her kill her

Rage stirred within her, the Hellion felt no hesitation as she saw the Sentinel of her former lover ahead. She squeezed the trigger for her left weapon arm, launching a rocket at the rear of Yasmin’s walker. 

“Peek-a-boo,” hissed Tiana into her vox, as smoke from the propelled warhead’s rocket engine the view of her heavily armoured Sentinel’s forward camera. 

When the exhaust fumes cleared, Tiana saw that Yasmin had managed to crouch her Sentinel beneath the rocket, the Spectre already turning the vehicle to face towards Tiana and her Scourge Sentinel.

Tiana magnified Yasmin’s face on her view display, enjoying the panicked look on the other woman’s features.

see how much she is afraid of you she knows she should never have left you kill her kill her kill her kill her make her pay make her pay make her pay make her pay

Tiana took the controls of both her weapon arms, targeting the cockpit of Yasmin’s Sentinel with the dual rocket launchers at her command. “Let’s see you wriggle your pretty ass out of this one, you dirty little slattern.” The Hellion grinned, her once flawless ebony features now manic. “I’m going to enjoy watching you burn, baby.”

punish her punish hektor show you are more powerful then them kill her kill her kill her kill her make her pay make her pay make her pay make her pay

The chanting in her head grew louder, filling Tiana’s ears with its urging drone.

kill her kill her kill her kill her make her pay make her pay make her pay make her pay

Her frenzy was coaxed and fuelled by the voice nestled within her conscious. Those few happy memories left of Tiana and Yasmin’s time together, snatches of panted moans and gasping joy, were twisted to enrage her. 

she left you because you couldn’t satisfy her kill her kill her kill her kill her make her pay make her pay make her pay make her pay

Those moments became visions of Hektor and Yasmin, their naked bodies entwined, faces twisted in mocking laughter as they looked at Tiana with eyes glazed with ecstasy.

she left you because she didn’t want you she hated you kill her kill her kill her kill her make her pay make her pay make her pay make her pay 

She slowly tightened her fingers against the matching chrome-plated triggers of her dual rocket launchers.

kill her kill her kill her kill her make her pay make her pay make her pay make her pay

Tiana frowned in confusion, struggling to concerntrate as the constant mantra reverberated through her mind. But it was my fault she left. I never told her how I felt for her

she left you to warm that bastich sturms bedroll kill her kill her kill her kill her make her pay make her pay make her pay make her pay

Shaking her head as she tried to make sense of the voice’s words, Tiana let go of the weapon controls, pounding her gloved fists against her forehead while she hissed in frustration. No. No, that’s not right. Shut up. Shut up

kill her kill her kill her kill her make her pay make her pay make her pay make her pay kill her kill her kill her kill her make her pay make her pay make her pay make her pay kill her kill her kill her kill her make her pay make her pay make her pay make her pay

The sound of a pair of rockets being launched snapped Tiana from her fit. 

“But I didn’t fire,” she stammered, blood running from a gash opened by her self-abusive punching.

kill her kill her kill her kill her make her pay make her pay make her pay make her pay kill her kill her kill her kill her make her pay make her pay make her pay make her pay kill her kill her kill her kill her make her pay make her pay make her pay make her pay


----------



## greywulf

Hissing in pain, Perlman grinned up at the traitor pinning him to the ground. “See you in the next life, frugger,” the Spectre said as his lasrifle exploded. 

The blast shredded through the rebels behind the barricade, the power released by the triggered overload scorching the brothel’s permacrete front as it set the turncoats ablaze and melted their flesh.

“Emperor guide you, Perlman Ronn,” Hektor murmured, sorrow numbing him as he watched those troopers still alive swat ineffectually at their burning wounds. “Your bravery will be remembered, brother.”

Taking his eyes from the carnage left by Perlman’s self-sacrifice, Hektor began to scramble up the side of his Sentinel. 

It was only a matter of moments before the traitors that had entered the brothel reacted. 

As Hektor swung a leg through the hatch of the crouched walker he heard a furious yell, and he looked over in time to see the guardsmen smash through the glass of a first floor window, opening fire on the Spectre with their lasrifles.

Hektor landed hard as he tumbled in to his cockpit, the desperate manoeuvre saving his life, as energy beams hissed through the space previously inhabited by the Spectre sergeant. More lasfire scorched the plexi-glass of his cockpit windscreen as Hektor struggled to right himself, hitting the Sentinel’s stance controls the moment he managed to position himself properly in the operator chair.

With a hiss of pistons and the tortured whine of battered servos, Hektor’s Sentinel rose from its crouch.

“Our turn to take a shot, old girl”, commented Hektor, activating the plasma cannon attached to his walker. He could feel a low vibration as the weapon activated, both the magnetic accelerator and the hydrogen used to produce its energy bolts requiring precious moments to charge up.

While he waited, Hektor manoeuvred his Sentinel towards the brothel, the vehicle responding to the Spectre’s practised controls as he steered in to a better firing position, energy burning the hull of his walker as the turncoats unleashed another ineffectual salvo.

With a chime, the ready rune of his plasma cannon bloomed into emerald life.

“For Perlman,” Hektor said softly, squeezing the worn trigger of his weapon control.

The suspension of his Sentinel auto-compensated for the hard kick of the plasma cannon discharging, the weapon venting super-heated steam as a bolt of pure energy flew from its charred barrel towards the brothel.

There was a flash of brilliant light as the plasma struck the side of the building just below the heretics vantage point, boiling energy erupting from the point of impact, vaporizing everything it touched.

Hektor blinked, attempting to banish the black dots now obscuring his vision. Though he had closed his eyes, the brilliance from the explosion of plasma was temporally burned on to his retina. Cursing, Hektor tried to ignore the momentary frustration of being partially blinded. The complete annihilation of the enemy troopers provided helped to compensate for the inconvenience, a melted crater all that remained of the heretics.

“Time to leave before this mission gets even more frugged,” Hektor commented, powering down the plasma cannon and switching to less volatile lascannon mounted on the nose of his Sentinel.

Setting the walker’s stance to Sprint, the Spectre sergeant moved away from the damaged brothel, steering gladly towards the evac point.

I can’t wait to hold you, baby, Hektor mused, his eyes darting to the pict of Yasmin wedged into the frame of his Sentinel’s windscreen. This has been one frugged up day

A nearby explosion interrupted Hektor’s thoughts of Yasmin, the Spectre sergeant recognising the characteristic sound of a Sentinel’s power plant detonating. What the frug was that

Hektor steered in the direction of the plume of black smoke rising from a nearby boulevard.


----------



## waltzmelancholy_07

@crabpuff: I disagree... It doesn't add more depth... You can pretty much tell the ending if greywulf decides to kill her: Hektor kills Tiana the vixen...

And besides, a love story depicted and set in the merciless universe like Warhammer 40,000 always ends up with either the male character or the female character dying, leaving their loved one in anguish or dying together while professing their undying love to one another... 

On the other hand, a happy ending is really2x rare...

But as I can see... Much to my anticipation... A twist here has presented itself... 

Greywulf, you never fail to keep me on edge...

Cheers!...


----------



## greywulf

Thanks for comments waltzmelancholy_07!

Always interested to see what you think, dude.
Next post should be up soon, I hope.


----------



## greywulf

“I’m going to enjoy watching you burn, baby.”

Tiana’s taunt fed from the vox speaker of Yasmin’s cockpit, the sneering tone making a chill run down the Spectre’s spine.

Yasmin closed her eyes and touched the pendant between her breasts.

She heard the double whump of a pair of rockets being launched.

I love you, Hektor Sturm

The comforting darkness behind her closed eyes was bleached by a violent light.

Emperor guide me

Yasmin felt debris sting her face as her windscreen shattered, showering the woman with plasteel and plexi-glass fragments. And yet, she did not die.

Yasmin forced herself to open her eyes.

'Tiana’s Sentinel stood damaged in front of her, flames and smoke billowing from the two missile craters now scarring the vehicle’s heavily armoured right flank. It had been the explosion of rockets impacting the Scourge’s armoured hull that had shattered Yasmin’s windscreen, and the launching munitions destined for a different target that she had heard.

As the Spectre watched, another explosive projectile screamed from behind her destroyed cockpit and slammed in to the left leg of Tiana’s Sentinel. With its balance compromised, the vehicle toppled slowly sideways.

….

The Scourge Sentinel groaned around Tiana as it fell, it’s hull and servos protesting at the abuse dealt by the surprise rocket attack. As the voice in her head raged, the Hellion gritted her teeth and waited for the coming crash.

With a resounding clang the Sentinel hit the ground, its left side slamming hard into the cobbles. Its power plant roared as its fuel tanks were damaged in the collision, promethium spilling from their cracked seals.

Tiana grunted as her pilots throne restraints tightened automatically, the straps driving the air from her body. Gasping frantically, she unbuckled her harness, not waiting for her fallen craft to settle in its death throes, each moment spent trapped in the Sentinel leaving the Hellion vulnerable.

….

“Yasmin, Yasmin, are you ok? Are you hurt, girl?”

The voice of Beatrice suddenly leapt from Yasmin’s vox speaker, snapping her from her daze. 

Yasmin blinked, slithers of plexi-glass painfully working their way deeper in to her face at the motion. “I will be okay.” She glanced to her left and saw Beatrice’s Sentinel stride in to view. “Thank the Throne you were nearby.”

Ursula’s Sentinel appeared on the other side of Yasmin, its rocket launcher wreathed in exhaust smoke. Yasmin could see the grim look on Ursula’s face, the other woman’s features eyes locked on the fallen Sentinel of Tiana. “I always did hate that crazy bicche,” Ursula commented, looking down at the wrecked walker in disgust.

….

you are pathetic you need to get out of here we need to get out of here and kill that slattern

Tiana snarled, tasting blood in her mouth as she inadvertently bit the tip of her tongue. The pain felt good, the coppery taste now filling her mouth arousing. Grinning in deranged excitement, she crawled towards her cockpit’s exit hatch.

….

“Make sure it’s over,” Yasmin said, looking down at the fallen Sentinel before her. “Destroy it.”

With a whine of servos, Beatrice’s altered the stance of her walker, stiffening its suspension to prepare for the kick of her rocket launcher firing. Launching unprepared and on the run had been the only reason that she had not put Tiana down for good.

This time she planned to finish the job.

….

come on come one come on you need to get out of here we need to get out of here and kill that slattern

Tiana howled as the voice in her head tormented her. She wanted to tear Yasmin limb from limb, to smear the other woman’s blood across her own skin. Reaching up, she slammed the emergency release for her exit hatch.

There was no response.

Tiana smashed her fist against the switch again and again, her knuckles breaking under the onslaught, blood smearing over the non-responsive release control. Spitting blood, she roared in anger as the voice in her skull grew louder.

come on come one come on you need to get out of here we need to get out of here and kill that slattern

“I can’t get out!” Tiana screamed. “The hatch is damaged. It won’t open!”

She started to scream, her piercing screeching joining that of the raging voice in her mind.
….

Yasmin watched as Beatrice aimed her rocket launcher at Tiana’s damaged walker. She knew that it was too late to save the woman, even is she still lived. Tiana had fallen to Chaos just as all the turncoats had. There would be nothing left of the woman Yasmin had once loved left within her, only a mass of hatred and anger. 

Though she knew this, Yasmin still had to look away as Beatrice fired upon the fallen Sentinel.


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## waltzmelancholy_07

Nice... It's a good thing you brought up the supporting characters there... Cause I actually forgot about them... Haha, sorry...

Well anyway... I like it... The way you portrayed the situation of Tiana... How pitiful she is and quite deranged... The conscious or maybe subconscious care and yearning of Yasmin for the woman she once loved... And the dramatic ending was great:Her looking away was just epic...

Cheers!...


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## greywulf

About the supporting characters.... yeah I know, they got kinda lost.
Lack of skill in my writing there, I think.

Tiana appears to be a winner actually, most ppl have commented about what a good (and sexy??) character she was.

Ive had a request to do a backstory about her n the Hellion's.

Maybe after finishing Spectres.

Glad you like my work enough to comment on it, Waltz, and I hope you keep on doing so.
It can really pep you up, someone commenting on your stuff.

I really need to read more stuff on here, and try to pep other people up too.

Keep Reading!

Next section........

NOW


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## waltzmelancholy_07

Nah, it's not lack of skill mate... The timing was good... The reemergence of the supporting characters was like a break from the focus of the main character's plight... And it also reminds readers that the supporting characters have a role in the story...

Anyway, like the temptation thing...

Cheers!....


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## greywulf

The two Trojans blocking the entrance to the Wraith Irregular’s temporary encampment parted, allowing access to the Chimera and the three battle-scarred Sentinels loping behind the transport.

The four vehicles made their way between the landing pods in the mud, heading towards the large pre-fab building set in the centre of the base that was serving as the Irregulars command centre for the operation.

The Chimera’s engine roared as its driver brought the transport to a stop, the heavy vehicle sinking in to the sludge as it halted near the structure, before reversing to present its rear hatch to the building. Muck was flung in to the air as the Chimera’s treads fought against the sucking dirt, churning up the ground as its engine howled in vain.

The three Sentinels halted nearby, all three walkers faring better in the mud then the tracked vehicle, their wide toed feet helping to counter the problem of the sucking ground. 

“Stupid treadheads,” remarked Caftan, as he observed the Chimera slowly reversing. “It’s bad enough that Heath has to wait to see a medic without these fruggers wasting any more time.”

“If he had been more careful then he wouldn’t be a ragged mess right now,”

Caftan ignored Tran’s emotionless response over the vox, though he found doing so difficult. He concentrated instead on wording a Litany of Gratitude in his mind, thanking the Emperor for guiding him back to base safely. 

Now was not the time for showing the fury he felt at his fellow Sentinel operator’s remark.

Caftan instead watched the Chimera come to a stop, its rear hatch lowering quickly with a squeal of tortured hinges. As the ramp hit the hard permacrete surrounding the pre-fab building, a squad of heavily armoured troopers exited the structure, the butts of their lasrifles tight against the guardsmen’s shoulders as they advanced towards the Chimera, their features hidden behind black face shields.

“Those are Greaves’ personal guard,” Jayne commented over the shared vox channel. “I know that that frugger Acura is important, but isn’t that a little overkill?”

Two of the troopers entered the transport, their comrades forming a semi-circle at the base of the rear ramp, their weapons aimed towards the open hatch before them. As Acura was hauled from the Chimera, two more figures emerged from the command centre and approached the idling transport vehicle.

“Who the frug are these bastiches?” Jayne commented, her crude language causing Caftan to inwardly wince. He found his fellow Spectre extremely attractive, a fact he could not find the courage to tell her, but Jayne’s vulgarity always tended to shock him. 

“I don’t know,” Caftan replied. “I don’t recognize either of them.”


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## greywulf

Acura groaned as his arms were wrenched in their sockets by the two guards dragging him, the pain distracting him from the throb of his broken nose. He tried to regain his balance, his footing sliding on the mud-layered ramp of the Chimera. The chains of his manacles became tangled around his bare feet and the naked turncoat stumbled forward on to the permacrete walkway, landing hard as he fell face first against the unforgiving surface. Panting for breath, Acura struggled to rise, his restraints hindering his efforts as he did so.

“Come on, you frugger,” spat one of the visor-wearing guardsmen flanking the traitor. “Get your fat ass up.” The man slammed a boot in to Acura’s ribs by way of encouragement.

As Acura writhed in pain, the Chimera finally moved away, it's tracks churning the mud as it gunned forward, its driver heading in the direction of the regiment’s field hospital with the transport’s remaining passenger, the wounded Spectre Heath Canby. 

Grunting from effort, Acura rose to his knees, groaning painfully as he did so. “Undo my bonds and let’s see how brave you are, frugger,” the heretic sneered, spitting at the boots of the trooper that had kicked him.

Snarling in anger, the guard lifted his lasrifle, preparing to drive the weapon’s butt in to Acura’s leering face.

“Do not strike him, guardsman.”

A woman’s voice rang out, her curt command stopping the trooper’s impending attack.

Acura looked up at the two strangers walking towards him, the arc of armoured guards splitting to allow the pair access.

The smaller of the two newcomers, a lithe woman dressed in an elegant black trouser suit, halted outside of the semi-circle. “My master wishes for the heretic to remain unharmed,” she commented. “At least, for now.” The woman tucked a stray lock of her waist length dark tresses behind one ear, revealing the faint scarring of a voxbead implantation on her neck as she did so.

Her companion, a hulking figure clothed in a grey hooded robe, entered the arc of guardsmen and stopped in front of the manacled Acura, who shrank back from the towering individual. The giant leaned down to look at the obese man, pulling back the cowl of his mantle to reveal bronzed patrician features, the old scars marking the giant’s face only adding to his dark expression.

“You can thank whichever dark god you worship that your execution will be delayed,” the hulk rumbled. “If it was up to me, heretic, you would already be nothing but a bloody streak on the permacrete.”

Acura voided his bladder in fear as he cowered at the feet of the robed giant, the turncoat finding his mental pleas to his Mistress unanswered. He could no longer feel the comforting fire of her presence within his mind. For the first time since he had led his fellow guardsmen in their mutiny, he was very much alone in his own drug-fuelled madness.

As the two strangers led the way in to the command centre, Acura let himself be dragged in their wake by his trooper escort, the heretic’s bravado suddenly absent. Tears ran from his yellow-tinted eyes as realisation began to bloom.

He had been discarded.


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## greywulf

AUTHORS NOTE


A section has been removed from the story, the section involving Hektor and his seduction by the "voice"





“For fruu…. By the Throne, that hurts!”

Yasmin flinched as Beatrice teased a slither of plexi-glass from her cheek, the woman placing the piece on her thigh with the others she had already removed from her corporal’s face.

“Keep still, girl,” Beatrice chided, as Yasmin shrank away from her questing fingers. “I don’t want to spend any more time in this warp-damned city then is necessary.” Holding the younger woman’s chin, Beatrice kept her still as she took hold of another shrapnel fragment, this one embedded in the meat of Yasmin’s left eyebrow.

The yelp that followed the splinter’s removal got the attention of Ursula, who was standing watch nearby, the butt of her lasrifle propped on the nose of her crouched Sentinel. Ursula smiled in spite of herself, Yasmin’s almost childish behaviour distracting her from the angst forming a knot in her stomach, the progress of their rescue attempt causing great anxiety for the Spectre.

The three active members of Team Two were currently concealed in an alleyway, with the two remaining fully operational Sentinels forming crude barricades at either end of the passage. 

Yasmin’s walker had been abandoned, after it had been found that the vehicle’s leg and chassis servo’s had been damaged by flying debris during Ursula’s opening missile attack against the helot Tiana. She had known that the Yasmin would be close enough to the explosion to be possibly injured in the blast, but had taken the risk to put down her attacker. The gamble had paid off, though Yasmin had come close to being blinded by flying plasteel and plexi-glass when her windscreen had been shattered.

Though Yasmin had been eager to carry on, Beatrice had convinced her corporal to let her try and remove the more dangerous splinters before they continued their rescue attempt.

If we don’t get out of here, they are just going to declare us dead or turned heretic and be done with it, Ursula mused. There’s only so much leeway stompers have over other guardsmen. If we don't get back now, death by commissar is pretty much a given. 

The sounds of running boot steps nearby snapped Ursula back to reality. “We have incoming!” She called to her two teammates. “Lock and load!” Shouldering her lasrifle, the Spectre prepared to fire.

Beatrice and Yasmin moved to the cover of Ursula’s Sentinel, adding their weapons to hers as they readied themselves. 

Yasmin put her eye to the scope of her sniper rifle, gently adjusting the finger controls on the weapons stock to refocus the view being shown on the display. Setting the scope to minimum zoom, she licked her lips and took a deep long breath, preparing for the kick of the sniper rifle against her shoulder.

A small group of heretics ran down the alleyway opposite the Spectres position, unaware of the three troopers waiting for them.

When the lead turncoat ran into her line of sight she fired automatically, her shot going wide as she squeezed too hard on the trigger. “Frug it!” she cursed. “I missed the bastich.” The man scurried for cover behind a dumpster, leaving his fellows to face the wraith of the Spectres. 

Beatrice and Ursula opened fire, killing the remaining heretics with sustained lasfire with ease, the confined space within the alley turning it into a killzone.

“We don’t have time to play hide and frugging seek,” Ursula commented. “Take that sneaky bastich's frugging head off, Yasmin.”

Yasmin nodded, adjusting her scope as she aimed at the dumpster, waiting for the heretic to expose himself. A familiar face peered around the side of the metal trash bin, not even the dirt and oil streaking its handsome features hiding the man’s identity from her.

Yasmin’s shrapnel-marked face broke in to a smile as she murmured, “Hektor.”


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## waltzmelancholy_07

By the Throne... It's a good thing she missed the first shot:victory:.... Hehe...

I've noticed that your upd8s are becoming shorter mate... But the quality is still the same... 

Expecting the next installment...

Cheers!..


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## greywulf

I use each update as a prospective change, so their size depends on how long I need to stay in each prospective for.

Glad you are still with me, and enjoying it, waltzmeloncholy.

Come on ppl, I know mel isnt the only one read this.
Leave me a message/comment:victory:


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## greywulf

Yasmin ran down the alley, excitement and concern overriding the exhaustion in her legs as she hurried to where Hektor lay unconscious against the dumpster.

“Oh, my.. oh baby.. let me see,” she said gently, moving Hektor’s clutching hand away his bleeding gut. “Oh, throne, that looks bad.”

Beatrice and Ursula joined Yasmin, providing cover just in case more heretics attacked.

“What the frug happened?” asked Ursula, as she watched Yasmin try and remain calm, the other woman trying to apply pressure to the gaping wound in her lover’s abdomen.

Yasmin held back a fearful sob as she looked down at Hektor’s lifeless face. “What did happen?” she muttered, mentally urging him to respond.


…..


Plexi-glass showered the limp form of Hektor, the sharp pinpricks of the shards hitting his face rousing him back to consciousness.

“Get the bastich out of there.”

A mass of rough hands grabbed at the Spectre, pulling him through the shattered windscreen of his fallen Sentinel before dumping him on to the hard cobbles. 

Hektor turned over on to his front, looking at the thick cabling wrapped round the legs of his disabled walker as he tried to get to his feet. “Oh, that’s a dirty trick,” Hektor groaned painfully, before a hard blow to the back of his legs made him fall back to his knees.

As Hektor had neared the source of the smoke column, he had fallen afoul of a heretic ambush.

He had guided his Sentinel over a power cable lying across the street, only for the flex to suddenly be pulled up to ensnare the walker’s legs. Before Hektor could react, the Sentinel’s feet had been pulled from under it as the tangled cable had been tightened.

With a whining of servos, Hektor’s Sentinel tripped over backwards, the dust barely settling before the Trojan attached to the end of the tripwire dragged the fallen walker towards the cluster of baying heretic troopers, the chaos-worshiping scum eager to toy with their newly captured prey. The majority were wielding vicious looking clubs and axes, though some among their number were clutching battered lasrifles to their shrunken chests. 

Their leader, an ugly thickset man wearing the tattered jacket of an Imperial Guard commissar, had stepped forward and smashed the windscreen of Hektor’s cockpit with a single blow from his filthy power sabre.

The cultists had fallen upon Hektor, following the mutated commissar’s barked order to “Get the bastich out of there” eagerly, the group of taunting former loyalist guardsmen now ringing the kneeling Spectre, taunting him as their leader crouched to grab Hektor by the chin.

“Sorry we broke your toy,” the heretic commissar sneered, squeezing Hektor’s face between dirty fingers. “We just wanted to say hi, is all.” 

As the heretics laughed at their leader’s joke, Hektor darted his eyes from side to side, frantically evaluating the situation. He came to a conclusion quickly. 

He was frugged.

The turncoat leader grabbed Hektor by the front of his uniform with one hand and dragged him to his feet.

“We’re gonna play a little game,” the commissar hissed, the stink of his rotten teeth assaulting Hektor’s nostrils as the other man leaned close. “See, you’re gonna run, and we, well, we’re gonna chase ya.”

“I’m not going to be your frugging entertainment,” Hektor replied, grabbing at the hand holding him aloft, trying to break its grip. “Go frug yourself.”

The heretic leader slammed his captive against the side of the fallen Sentinel, drawing his sidearm as he held the struggling man in place with his free hand. “Oh, you’re gonna run, m’lad,” the man hissed, pointing the pistol against Hektor’s stomach. “See, if you don’t, then I’m gonna gut shot you and leave you for the maggots to find and play with, or worse, something even nastier.”

“I’m not running,” Hektor replied. “You bastiches will get me after a few steps, and I have a feeling you boys like to have fun with what you catch too.” He licked his lips and cracked a brash grim. “And I must say, I don’t fancy having you having your way with me, handsome.” Hektor gave the heretic a wink. “Least not on a first date, any way.”

The turncoat commissar roared in anger, then unloaded a round in to Hektor’s gut.

Hektor yelled in agony, slumping to the floor on all fours as his captor released his grip. 

The sight of the Spectre sergeant writhing in pain made the traitor leader grin in twisted satisfaction. He spat a greasy wad of phlegm at the man sprawled at his feet, then used a scuffed boot to flip Hektor on to his back.

The Spectre turned over, revealing the laspistol that had been hidden in his boot holster, the weapon now pointed at the surprised turncoat. Hektor smiled wryly, before unloading a las round in to the man’s face.

Before the commissar’s body had hit the floor, Hektor was scrambling to his feet, firing wildly at the reeling heretics gathered around him. Clutching at the wound in his side, the Spectre ran for an opening in the ranks of the scattering turncoats, frantically searching for a bolthole.

Hektor stumbled towards a nearby alley mouth, each step making the ball of pain in his guts throb. He could feel blood beneath his compressing palm, knew that he was going to bleed to death if he didn’t get to a medic soon.

Lasfire began to flash past Hektor’s head as the heretics regained the senses and rallied, charging in to the alley after their fleeing captive, who toppled stacks of crates behind him to try and slow down his pursuers.

Hissing in pain, Hektor ran hard towards the end of the alley, though he knew doing so was futile. The heretics would catch him no matter what. But still he willed his legs to move, praying to the Emperor as he felt his life slowly ebbing away.

Keep Yasmin Tinton safe against your bosom, Hektor intoned. Guide her home

The whistle of an incoming bullet passing by his ear made the Spectre duck instinctively, and he scrambled across the filth-caked cobbles to the safety of a nearby dumpster. As Hektor crouched behind the trash container, lasfire filled the air, cutting down the pursing heretics as they tried in vain to avoid the bolts of energy.

As the hail of las bolts receded, Hektor peered around the corner of the dumpster, squinting as his eyes struggled to focus. He made out a crouched Sentinel ahead, the walker sat in the mouth of the opposite alley. A face rose from behind the nose of the vehicle, and Hektor recognised the owner of those earnest features.

Before he slipped in to unconsciousness Hektor’s oil streaked features broke in to a smile as he murmured, “Yasmin.”


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## greywulf

a NEW prologue section has been added at the beggining of the piece, with another prologue section and various tweeks to follow.


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## greywulf

o0o

"..we’ll get the boy back safe.."​


The Trojan groaned as Beatrice leaned harder on the vehicle’s accelerator, using all her weight to try and gain extra speed from the vehicle’s engine. The driver’s compartment shuddered around the woman as she steered the transport along a thoroughfare, the cobble surface causing problems for the Trojan’s worn suspension.

There was a screech of shearing metal and the vehicle’s rear slammed in to the ground, as the rear of its chassis buckled under the strain. The taint of Chaos had eroded the Trojan’s structure, distorting the ceramite and plasteel as it had done the former Ioyalist troopers that had crewed the vehicle.

“Come on you frugging bastich!” Beatrice roared as she tried to regain control of the Trojan, the weight of the scavenged armour plating hastily welded to the vehicle’s hull hindering her success.

The Trojan wobbled and swerved erratically, bouncing against the houses lining the street. Bricks and mortar were stripped from the buildings by the collisions, the debris littering the street behind the vehicle as it sped unsteadily onwards. 

Ursula yelled in alarm as rubble showered the roof of the Trojan, the Spectre pulling down the hatch of the vehicle’s top compartment and waiting for the rain of wreckage to stop before once again emerging, lasrifle in hand. “Emperor’s balls, B!” she yelled in to her throat-vox. “Have a care, will you!”

“Keep it down, girl! I’m trying to drive here!” Finally, Beatrice managed to regain control and straighten out the Trojan’s course. “Emperor’s grace, I’m getting too old for this,” she commented to herself, trying to ignore the loud grating of metal on stone as the rear of the vehicle slid against the cobbled road. Beatrice leaned back to bang a fist against the sliding hatch dividing the drivers compartment from the main hold.

The hatch clanged open and Yasmin peered through the gap, concerned emotion showing on her face.

“How is Hektor holding up?” Beatrice asked, keeping her eyes on the road ahead. “We are almost back to base.”

“Try to keep this hunk of scrap steady,” Yasmin replied over the roar of the Trojan’s engine. “It’s doing him no good being jolted about.” She turned away and glanced back into the transport’s cargo hold. “He’s in a bad way, Beatrice.” 

“Just keep him steady, lass,” Beatrice replied. “We’ll get the boy back safe.”


o0o​


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## Templar Marshal

Hey Grey your right Waltz isn't the only who reads this I have been since the start and have found it a great read man :victory:. + rep


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## greywulf

Thanks Templar Marshal!

Its good to know that people are enjoying this.
Ive been working on thsi since sept last year, and at times its been the comments of the readers that have stopped me from binning it.

Its amazing what a simple "great story" or something similar can do to raise your spirits!

+rep for being a nice reader!


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## Templar Marshal

Hey Grey any time frame when the chap is going up for this great story? I'm asking cause I've got exams till next friday lol.


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## greywulf

At the moment Im concerntrating on my "Vengeance" aswell as trying to prepare a short story submission for BL.

I do hope to finish this off soon, I have most of it planned out, its just getting the time.


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## Templar Marshal

I know finding the time to find for stuff like this is pretty hard lol. Its good to know that you're going to finish this.


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## greywulf

That it is, TM!

Two kids, wife, job and Real Life make it had to try and develop and produce new and better work.




NEW SECTION titled "as you wish" has been added to the prologue section

Use THIS to navagate back to the first section


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## Templar Marshal

Hey Grey don't tell you've forgotten this little gem of a story


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