The Multiverse Project: Warhammer 40,000

"CADIA FALLS?!" Tangmo screamed at the Imperial data-slate, unbelieving of the words, or runes, he was reading.

"WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUCK BRO?!" Henry was equally flabbergasted, pacing up and down the cramp confines of the Valkyrie gunship, empty beside the two of them. An expensive and wasteful gesture, but the Imperial Guards upper echelon spares no expenses in transporting prospect commissar and general into an active warzone. Okay, maybe expensive wasn't the correct term here, because the sleek interstellar ship looks, feels and smell like absolute shit.

This isn't anything new to Tangmo though, in Thailand there exist a notorious public bus known as the No. 8. A rundown, decades old busted up piece of shit that roared louder than a freaking tank when the driver, coked up on amphetamine pills, decided to plow through the busy Bangkok traffic. Pedestrians and other motorists be damned, he needed to rake up the passenger tally before his shift was done.

Granted, at least in the case of the No. 8 bus he was still on the ground, the worse that could happen was that the damn thing flipped, crashed or ran over some poor sods, as a passenger he can't be implicated in man-slaughter. The Valkyrie however was a spacecraft. And even though he wanted to trust Imperial engineering ingenuity, the clanking of loose bolts, the horrid groaning of tortured steel and the layer of rust that looked a couple of centuries thick, was far from reassuring.

"Great! This is just fucking great!" Henry quickened his pace down the aisle of seats, the accommodation here made the cheapest Thai Airways economy class look luxurious by comparison. "First Ken Levin straight up murdered Elizabeth, now the most iconic bastion in the entire Imperium is dead, absolutely ass blasted to hell by Chaos."

"Yeah, Elizabeth dying is an absolute punch in the gut," Tangmo agreed.

"You damn right it is," Henry continued. "I mean, shit, after everything she went through why can't she have a happy ending?"

"Look, I understand where you're coming from, but we're getting off the subject here," Tangmo interject, "Cadia. Falls. Dude!"

"This is beyond fucked," Henry continued to stomp up and down the Valkyrie. "I mean, this is gonna screw up every established lore in 40k, I just know it."

"The plot is just moving forward."

"I bet the Master is dicking with us, he knows we're big 40k fans so he planted us right at the end of the entire franchise."

"Stop being such a fucking schizoid and sit your ass down," Tangmo shook his head exasperatedly, "besides, if this is the end, think of how cool it's gonna be to actually experience it in the flesh. Come on dude, it's gonna be awesome regardless, and imagine how much fun 2016 is going to be when we spoiled it for everyone."

Although still pacing, Henry was visibly calming down, nodding as Tangmo's word began to sink in.

"You're right," Henry swiped a hand over his sweaty face, "I'm just a little bit overwhelm, and the whole Elizabeth thing isn't really helping."

"I feel your pain dude," some years ago, Tangmo would have laughed at people like Henry for getting so emotionally attached to a video game character. But after becoming part of the universe crossing dynamic ass kicking team known as the Eight, and learning that every video games, books and films were real, breathing world like his own, he now understand the pain. Goddamn it Ken!

A glaring red light flashed suddenly beside Tangmo and a subdue voice spoke from the speaker above his head.

"Pardon my interruption lord commissar, lord general," the man said, "but the captain has requested that you remained seated for the duration of the flight, for your own safety sir."

"How the hell do I talk back?" Tangmo peered closer at the speaker.

"There's a switch beneath the vox-caster sir, flip it if you wish to speak to us," as if reading his mind, the co-pilot told him.

"Okay," Tangmo found the rusty switch, flipped it and dropped his voice by a few cool octaves, "can you hear me?"

"Loud and clear sir," the co-pilot replied.

"You must forgive the lord general," Tangmo went on, adopting a more commissar appropriate tone, "he is most aggrieved by the news regarding the traitor's incursion and the subsequent destruction of Cadia. To see mankind most formidable fortress fall is not an easy matter to digest."

"Be that as it may, lord commissar," a new female voice, Australian accented of all things, piped up, "but I must advice the lord general to sit down. We're about to breach the atmosphere and there's already enough vibration without him adding more to it."

"You best well watch your words, pilot," Henry now spoke, his menacing baritone shaking the hull.

"With all due respect, lord general," the undeniable bite in the woman's remark was surprising, to say the least, "but for me to adequately do my job, I must ask you to stop acting like a damn child and sit your ass down so I can land this bird properly."

"Tyra! For Emperor sake!" The co-pilot was scared shitless by the captain's outburst, and for good reason.

"Tyra, is it?" Henry lowered his voice ominously. "Your superior will hear of this."

"Nothing new here sir," Tangmo could've sworn Tyra was smirking on the other end.

"Just do your job, woman," Henry walked over to the vox-caster and flipped the switch, then spun around to face Tangmo.

"Damn son!" Henry cackled like an idiot while Tangmo grinned like one. "She's feisty!"

"And that accent, dude!" Tangmo added. "She sounds cute as fuck yo!"

"Nah! The Aussie accent is a lie," Henry waved him off, "I bet she's an overweight ugly lesbo."

"How can you tell just by hearing her voice?"

"Trust me man, you get the hot ones that sounds like baying mule, while the less attractive ones got voices like angel. Nature like to dick with us like that."

"That is the most retarded shit I've ever heard in my life."

"I concurred completely lord commissar."

Tangmo and Henry froze where they stood, horror and embarrassment in equal measure taut their faces as they gaped at the vox-caster, red light still on. Dodgy Mechanicus piece of shit, this entire goddamn Valkyrie was probably patched together in the Imperium equivalent of China.

"…Shit." Henry managed a high-pitched squeak.

"And for your information, lord general," Tyra continued testily, "I am quite attractive."

"I'm sure you are, captain Tyra," Tangmo made his voice more professional, what little help that would do, "now how do I turn the vox-caster off?"

"You flipped the switch until the red light disappeared, sir."

"Thank you captain," Tangmo flipped the switch a few times until the light went black.

"Yes Henry, I agree!" Tangmo yelled obnoxiously at the vox-caster, enunciating every syllable with unnecessary care. "She probably looks like a pregnant elephant!"

Both the commissar and commander waited in dreaded anticipation for a respond, unblinking eyes trained on the vox-caster. After about five minutes, the pair let out a sigh of relief as Henry seated himself down beside Tangmo and buckled up.

"Well, we're off to a great start," Henry took off his cap and wiped his brow, "so much for blending in with the grim darkness of the 41st Millennium."

"Dude, when do we ever try to blend in?" Tangmo cocked a brow. "Everywhere we go, whether it's Westeros, with the Bridgeburners or tagging along with Geralt, we were always our dumbass selves."

"Yeah, but this place is a dystopian nightmare where one slip could get us killed," Henry continued, "in a couple of days everybody's gonna be babbling about that weird commissar and general, the pilot won't keep quiet, that for damn sure."

"You know I can blam her and the co-pilot, right?" Tangmo was dead serious when he turned to face Henry. "Just say the word man."

"What? Dude! No! I like her."

"…So that's a no on the blamming?"

"Don't hurt her, okay man?"

"Chill dude, I like her too. And I'm already scoring more point than you anyway."

Henry would've retort if the Valkyrie didn't lurch suddenly, so powerful that Tangmo, who didn't strapped himself in, was launched from his seat, his head making a loud, painful bonk on the ceiling, his awesome commissar cap did little to cushion the impact.

"Motherfucker!" Tangmo buckled up and was rubbing the red welt on his forehead when the vox-caster blared to life again.

"We'll be making our descent into the atmosphere in a few minutes sir," Tyra said, "sorry about the turbulence, the traffic is getting pretty heavy in this area."

Still massaging his skull, thank God it wasn't getting lumpy, Tangmo glanced out the porthole and felt boyish wonder numbing his pain. Outside in the starry infinity, the awe-inspiring sight of the Imperial Navy gleamed in glorious magnitude, their radiance rivaling the glittering stars of the cosmos. Lumbering slowly across the black canvas of the universe were a few Emperor class battleships, bearing insignia that Tangmo and Henry didn't recognize. Beyond the hulking flying cathedral, smaller cruisers glided along in pristine formation, guarding the shipping lane or providing escort to the bigger spacecraft. Darting about them like school of minnows, Fury Interceptor flew a pretty pattern as they accompanied what appeared to be bulky civilian transport toward one of the many capital class ship.

"So what in the hell is happening here?" Tangmo began tapping the data-slate.

"It's an evacuation process," Henry read from his own little screen, "apparently these are the survivor from Cadia."

"Refugee details, seriously?" Tangmo face scrunched up in distaste, he was here to kick ass and take names, not play UN peacekeeper.

"Dude, this is 40k, it ain't going to be that simple," Henry nudge his head at the porthole, "we're not the only pair assigned to this mission."

Following Henry's gaze, Tangmo gave a curt nod in agreement. Flying beside them, forming an almost perfect wedge, were others Valkyries, each carrying a pair of commissar and commander within its hull. Having arrived in the 40k universe via a nondescript portal conjured up by the Master, the pan dimensional being that safe guard the cosmos who also happens to be their boss, Tangmo and Henry were hurried through the hall of an Emperor class battleship and into Tyra's Valkyrie, with only a data-slate given to them by a panting petty officer before they were jettison into space.

He didn't even catch the name of the ship, probably something in Latin with a very unsubtle meaning.

To say that the whole thing feels pretty strange would be somewhat of an understatement, even by 40k standard. He counted nine other ships leaving the battle cruiser with him, ten commissars and ten generals, fresh out of the Schola Progenium, heading for the hottest warzone in the entire Imperium. Beyond the preliminary intel on the destruction of Cadia, nothing clued him in on what they were supposed to be doing. God, he hates not knowing shit.

"Entering atmosphere," Tyra announced as the Valkyrie began rocking violently, the ancient locking belts rattled hard against Tangmo's chest. Outside, the vivid heat of reentry wreathed the ship in fire.

"Holy shit, this is like Starship Trooper!" Henry laughed.

"I know right!" Despite the less than comfortable predicament Tangmo found himself smiling ear to ear, beyond exhilarated that he was moments away from living his Warhammer 40k fantasy. Sure, the prospect of getting killed was astronomical, but to be able to run around with bolter and chainsword was totally worth the risk of getting mind raped by Chaos gods, stomped to shit by Orks, turned into a buffet by the Tyranids and getting fucked by a hot Dark Eldar babe with a spike dildo.

Yep, totally worth it.

After what seemed like hours, the bone jarring shuddered ceased. Taking a few deep breaths, Tangmo glance toward the porthole and saw bright blue sky greeting him instead of cosmic black, wisps of cloud rushes pass the Valkyrie in shrieking gale now that they were no longer in a soundless vacuum.

"ETA to the assembly point, twenty minutes sir," Tyra announced.

"Thank you captain," Tangmo flipped the switch and acknowledged her.

"Make sure it's turned off this time," Henry lowered his voice to a whisper, eyeing the vox-caster warily.

"It is," Tangmo pointed at the dull bulb, "what? You scared of the mean little captain?"

"Fuck you, I just don't like embarrassing myself," Henry grumbled.

"But that's the best part of our job!" Tangmo reached into his coat and withdrew a black palm size device which he activates with his thumb. The polished obsidian machine wasn't sanction by the Adeptus Mechanicus, its inner working and the method of recreating such an archaic tool, mentioned only as myth from the Dark Age of Technology, was lost to the scion of the Machine God. The Imperium has no name for it, but Tangmo knew well what such device was called in that unknown time lost from Imperial chroniclers.

An iPhone.

"Alright, time to break out the Sabaton," Tangmo began flipping through the collection of music on the iPhone. As something of a consolation prize for dropping the Eight in the middle of what is essentially the biggest Chaos incursion since the Horus Heresy, the Master have given them every album of the best metal band in the world for the next fifty years.

"And the Hammerfall," Henry made his input, "the Disturbed, the Dragonforce, the Gloryhammer, the Alestorm, the Amon Amarth, the Galneryus, the Maiden, the Priest, the Nightwish, the Rhapsody…"

"Which Rhapsody?"

"Everything that involves Luca Turilli."

"Even his new solo project?"

"Everything."

Tangmo nodded as he continued to scroll down the playlist, stopping suddenly with an irked brow, "yo check this out, it looks like Gloryhammer came out with a new album in 2015."

"What's it called?"

"Space 1992: Rise of the Chaos Wizards."

"That's sounds ridiculously awesome, and strangely fitting."

"Want to give a whirl?"

"Hell yeah!"

Pressing the screen, Tangmo turned the loud speaker to maximum as the quick and powerful intro of battering drums, machinegun riff and soaring synth blared from the iPhone. By the time the chorus kicked in, Tangmo and Henry was already headbanging and trying to sing along.

"Holy sweet Jesus, this is amazing," Henry beamed, "Christopher Bowes is a fucking genius."

"I'm still having a hard time believing how good this is," Tangmo agreed with a laugh, "I mean, holy shit, is the entire album a parody of 40k or something?"

"I don't know dude, but the lyric fit 40k to a tee."

"We're going to be landing in a few moments sir," Tyra interrupted the kickass solo, "…I'm sorry lord commissar, am I hearing music?"

Locking the iPhone hurriedly and stuffing it into a secret 4th dimension pocket in his commissar coat, like the one Doraemon used, Tangmo scrambled over to the vox-caster, flipped it on, then spoke in his most flat voice:

"Music, captain?"

"I swear I heard a strange distorted sound coming from the passenger hull, like someone torturing a string instrument."

Tangmo had to bite down a choice retort for Tyra. Torturing a string instrument?! Woman, that was one of the best shredding ever conceived by mankind, "I assured you captain that neither myself nor the general had uttered a single word since entering the atmosphere, or made any sort music for that matter."

"Yes lord commissar, my apology," the Valkyrie seems to be slowing down then, his stomach rushing up his throat as the ship made its quick descend, the hull shaking violently from the change in altitude. Before he or Henry can comment, a jarring impact rocked the entire aircraft, so powerful that Tangmo knew if he wasn't strapped down, he would've flew across the aisles. Good thing he didn't squealed, the damned vox-caster was still on.

"Sorry about the rough landing sir," Tyra said chirpily as the hum of engines died down and was replaced by the rumble of muffled humanity churning outside the Valkyrie, the roar of trudging machineries and barking orders melding into a rolling, unintelligible thunder.

"Thank you for the ride, captain," Tangmo undid his buckles and strode to the back of the ship with Henry, the large cargo door lowering with a rusty squeal.

"Damn, that's painful," Tangmo gridded his teeth, the aging door was taking its sweet time.

"Act cool dude, act cool," Henry dusted and fiddled with his dark green general coat like a female character from the Wheel of Time.

"I am cool," Tangmo adjusted his awesome commissar cap.

"Okay, now strike a pose," Henry puffed out his chest, stuck out his chin and clasped his hand behind his back.

"Really dude? Really?" Despite giving the American an incredulous look, Tangmo squared his shoulder and folded his arm in front of his chest.

"Like in Hellboy dude," Henry grinned.

"Which one?"

"The first one, right before Abe and Hellboy fight that Samael thing in the museum."

"You mean the part where they got out of the garbage truck?"

"That one, yeah."

"Alright, I'll admit, that shit was cool."

Henry was about to say more when the ramp door slammed down entirely, reverberating rush of clashing voices buffeted them, adding an almost tangible layer to the hot air billowing into the hull. Striking a dashing militaristic pose, Tangmo and Henry both let out an agitated groan when a Servitor with a halftrack for feet greeted them. The hunched, grotesque lobotomized cyborg jerked and twitched as he, or she, looked at them.

"Follow me," it droned mechanically before turning away, "must keep schedule, schedule must be kept as commanded."

"Alright, alright," Tangmo rolled his eyes, "lead the way my dude."

"Input error," the machine man blurted, "unable to comply, invalid command, please repeat directive."

"I swear to God Almighty," Henry shook his head and cleared his throat, "Servitor, take us to the designated location."

"Command accepted," the Servitor turned and trudge slowly around the Valkyrie, "follow to destination."

Side by side, their steps pristine and crisp, Tangmo and Henry followed the Servitor down the rough dirt path toward a forest of tent a couple of hundred paces in front of them. They were passing the Valkyrie's head when the cockpit window swung opened and an Aussie voice asked: "Did you enjoy the ride sir?"

Glancing up, Tangmo and Henry can only gape at the person grinning down at them, realizing just then, with no small amount of conceding embarrassment, that captain Tyra did not look anything like an ugly pregnant elephant. Quite the opposite actually, the slim perky redhead was above average when it came to beauty, even the dust and grime streaking across her cheeks couldn't hide the bright, friendly smile curving up her pretty round face.

"Your silence said it all, lord commissar, lord general," her triumphant smirk was evil, to say the least.

"We did indeed enjoy the ride captain," Tangmo said pleasantly, giving his cap a little tip before flashing Tyra a handsome grin.

"Thank you lord commissar…"

"Tangmo. Commissar Tangmo, at your service, my companion here is general Henry."

"Nice to meet you," Tyra nicety narrowed to a piercing slit when she glanced at Henry, "well general Henry? Do I look like…what is it that you said? An overweight ugly lesbo?"

"It appears that I am mistaken, captain Tyra," Henry gave her a reluctant nod, "and for that, I extend my deepest apology."

"How very gentlemanly of you," Tyra deadpanned, "I accept your apology."

"Very well," Henry lifted his chin haughtily at her, "but know that I plan to file my complains regarding your gross misconduct during transit, captain Tyra. You shall hear from your superior soon enough."

"And I eagerly await my reprimand, lord general Henry," Tyra rolled her eyes, looking quite nonchalant for someone who was about to get chewed out. Whether she was used to getting scolded or knew that neither him or Henry would go through with the threat, Tangmo didn't know. Ducking back into the Valkyrie, Tyra was pulling the window close when she winked at Tangmo and said, "good day, lord commissar Tangmo."

"Farewell captain Tyra," Tangmo nodded as the window slammed closed, and turned with a shit eating grin toward Henry, "Don't be jelly dude, I'm a natural born lady-killer."

"Oh, shut the fuck up," Henry hissed and stomp off grumpily.

"Hey! It's just like you said," Tangmo quickly caught up to the agitated Henry, "the universe always give us hard choices dude. Guess I'm getting all the pretty ones while you keep the rest. Damn, nature is such a bitch, am I right?"

"How about you go fuck your…" Henry was shaking his clenched fist at Tangmo when he noticed that their guide was gone, "where's the Servitor?"

Cursing under his breath, Tangmo's head darted left and right, and even with the guardsmen and other military personnel giving the two a wide respectful breadth, the cyborg servant was nowhere to be seen.

"Where did it…? Over there!" Tangmo pointed at a jittery hunched shape shambling slowly through the crowd, heedlessly shouldering aside cursing guardsmen and ignoring the loud honk of angry drivers.

"Yo! Hold up!" Henry bolted after the lobotomized robot, Tangmo quick at his heel. After many grunts, shoves, pushes and apologies, unneeded due to their ranks but they were polite like that, Tangmo and Henry finally caught up to the Servitor, panting as they fell into steps behind the automaton.

"Damn, you're pretty fast, aren't you?" Henry cracked a smile but the Servitor didn't respond.

"Guess he's the quiet ones," Tangmo chuckled and noticed then that the bustle of marching soldiers were lessening to nonexistence around him. It took a moment, but Tangmo finally saw that they were headed straight for a big, camouflage green tent that can only be the command post. Crisply dressed and expensive looking stormtroopers patrolled the area.

Heading for the tent flap, Tangmo saw that the other pair of commissars and generals were marching alongside them, following their own Servitor. A grim, serious and snobbish looking bunch straight out of the official Games Workshop artwork. One pair in particular, a hardass looking general dude and a shorter, but equally intimidating, Asian commissar woman, were glaring haughtily down their nose at Tangmo and Henry. The correct response for the Bangkokian and the New Yorker was to simply ignore the judging eyes and carry on without sparing the other pair a glance. Unfortunately, both Tangmo and Henry weren't exactly model student of etiquette.

So they rounded on the other pair and threw their flailing arms out in the most infuriating frat boy taunt imaginable, chest puffed out and hollering like a bunch of drunk idiots.

"What?! What?!" Tangmo barked at the startled pair, horrified and disgusted in equal measure by such unprofessional display. "Wanna go?! Come at me bro!"

Muttering a slew of curses, the other pair lifted up their snooty chins and stomped away, over taking the Servitor as they hurried into the commander tent.

"Yeah! That's what we thought you punk ass bitches!" Henry called after them before turning more demurely toward Tangmo, a look of crushing realization on his face. "Dude, I think we fucked up."

"Life is about making mistake and living with it my main man," Tangmo said brightly.

"Yeah, but I would prefer if we don't make one to begin with."

"Oh well, que sera, sera."

"You know we have to work with them right? I mean, the only explanation for having ten pairs of commissar and general in a single place is that something big is happening and it requires the Imperial forces working in tandem with each other. And we done fucked that right up," he shot Tangmo a mean look then, "you made me do this!"

"I didn't do shit!" Tangmo shot back indignantly as he threw open the tent flap, "you're the moron that copied me, blame your stupid ass self."

"You're a bad influence, even a stalwart specimen of humanity like myself can do nothing but succumb to your corruption."

"And that's the reason why I'm the commissar, not you."

Ignoring Henry's grumbles, Tangmo took in the interior of the command tent. Expecting some plush, ridiculously opulent room that contrasted starkly with the army camp outside, since according to every Imperial Guards books ever written all the high brass are corrupt douchebags, Tangmo was quite impress to see a very spartan command center, every available space fitted with computers and communication machines. Scribes, normal human and mindless Servitor alike, darted across the room to bring the latest report to the wide, metallic desk at the center of the room, occupied by a grizzled, gray hair man that looked like he'd really seen some shit in his long military career.

The nine pairs of commissar and commander saluted as one, Tangmo and Henry following suit a millisecond too late, earning a nasty, satisfied look from the pair from before. The condescending glance really gets under the skin, but this time Tangmo and Henry ignored them, gaze held on the aging man who saluted the newcomer crisply.

"Welcome commissars, generals," he said simply, "I am not a man of eloquence, so I'll get to the point. My name is lord commander militant Halven, once of Cadia, one more ghost that had failed in his duty to the God Emperor."

He paused then, gazing hollowly at the desk before him, his posture leaden with shame. Tangmo couldn't help but feel sorry for the old man. Failing sucks, and in a universe where zealous dedication to your occupation leaves no rooms for mistake, Tangmo was surprised that the commander haven't already committed seppuku on his head with a laspistol. The notion must have been tempting considering how, if Tangmo had read the data-slate correctly, the armless wonder kid, Abaddon the Despoiler, succeeded in literary cracking the planet opened like Oberyn Martell's skull. And this wasn't like Tanith either, for the space Celt weren't famous when they lost their planet, Cadia already had a reputation, they were that one place that was supposed to hold the line. And then this happens. Damn, Tangmo couldn't even begin to imagine how shitty Halven must be feeling.

After a few tense, wordless seconds, the lord general continued:

"As all of you should know by now, six months ago Cadia has fallen to the Archenemy, but with the sacrifice of Ursarkar Creed and the 8th, the Ruinous power was denied the prize of using the Gate as a launching point for further incursion into the Imperium."

Tangmo and Henry traded a troubled look then. Tactical genius is dead?! Shit!

"You now stand on Kolasi, a planet at the very edge of the Cadian system," great, they were on a planet that literary mean hell in Greek, "this is where the four millions survivor of Cadia are awaiting transportation to a more temporal part of the Imperium. Your job, officially at least, is to oversee the evacuation of the refugees."

Halven growled agitatedly when nothing but silence answered his announcement, "did the Schola Progenium took your tongue?! Speak your mind damn you!"

"Alright," Tangmo strode up to Halven's desk while the others were fumbling for the correct respond, Henry at his side. If the old general was displeased by the display, he didn't showed it.

"Lord commander, me and my colleague might be unblooded when it comes to war," a blatant lie, they've fought in wars and led armies in other universes before, but there's no harm in playing it humble, "but we've learned long ago to never take anything at a face value. To have ten pairs of newly graduated commissars and generals gathered here is a gesture too expensive for a simple evacuation detail."

"Very observant young man," Halven was pleased that at least someone was talking.

"Then forgive me for being blunt, but what is our job here? I don't mind walking into the fire, I just need to know the direction."

Halven gave a mirthless chuckled and withdrew his data-slate, giving it a few hard taps, "a vermillion class order came to me from the Adeptus Mechanicus, the coded message was verified by the Adeptus Administratum themselves. The instruction given to me was to be followed to the letters, so here it is: Each pair of commissar and general are to lead an assault on the city of Kidemonas."

"Assault?" Henry now spoke up.

"A few days ago Chaos rebels took the city. As you can see, Earthshaker cannons, Basilisk and Manticore are being move into position as we speak."

"But you're not shelling the city yet," Henry continued, "because whatever it is the Mechanicus wanted, it's worth sending in foot soldiers to minimize collateral damage."

Halven brow irked upward, impressed, "a correct assessment."

"And judging from the urgency and secretive nature of the directive, I'm guessing that the thing we're looking for is a Standard Template Construct?"

Halven barked a laugh, "hah! And here I thought you fresh meat are going to be stumbling all over the place like a bunch of headless Grox!"

"The Progenium provides lord commander," Henry went on politely, but with an obvious air of haughtiness, "what is the condition of the STC?"

"I don't know, but judging from how the Administratum is lighting a fire up my ass, I'll say that its intact enough to warrant an immediate extraction."

"Any definite location?"

"If I have to hazard a guess, it would be in the center of the city where the skylines are all concentrated. Your data-slate should be updated with all the relevant information."

"What of the enemies?" Tangmo now asked. "Numbers, deployments, armaments?"

"There was about ten million people in that city, eighty percent had since turned to Chaos and the other twenty butchered. Most are probably armed with slug-thrower, stub guns and improvised weaponry, but they'll have the number advantage."

"Nothing new here. And who will we be leading into the breach?"

"What is your name, commissar? And you general?"

"Commissar Tangmo, reporting for duty sir," Tangmo saluted.

"General Henry, sir," Henry did the same.

"Tangmo…Henry…you two are assigned to a combined Cadian regiment under colonel Krillen, attached to these lots are a significant number of Whiteshields and a regiment of Kolasi Fire Guard PDF."

"When are we moving out sir?" Henry inquired.

"You have three hours to brief the men before you march on the city, I believe that the Chaos insurrection and the retrieval of the STC should be dealt with swiftly, given our current bedraggled condition."

"Understood lord general. Permission to be dismissed sir,"

"Granted," Halven saluted, "good luck, general, commissar."

"Thank you sir," Tangmo bowed and headed toward the tent flap with Henry. But not before stick his tongue out at the seething pair from before.

"We're gonna get caught someday," Henry grimaced as they strolled back into the open.

"I don't give a shit," Tangmo was smiling when he stopped suddenly, "…where were we supposed to go?"

"To this colonel Krillen."

"And where is that?"

"…Goddamn it, we forgot to asked."

Tangmo turned to one of the stormtrooper guard, the man standing at attention as he approached him.

"Yo, where's this Krillen dude at?"

"…Sir?" The stormtrooper was taken aback by Tangmo 21st century colloquialism.

"Where is colonel Krillen stationed?" Tangmo tried again more correctly this time.

"Oh! That way sir," the stormtrooper pointed down the road.

"Thank you," Tangmo nodded and walked off in that direction with Henry.

"Why do you think they need ten pairs of commissars and generals for this?" Henry asked.

"It does look kinda excessive, right?" Tangmo said.

"Yeah. I mean, a simple battle group should be enough, but nope, apparently some higher ups thought this was a good idea. Should've asked the commander what this was all about."

"I don't think he knows. The Imperium isn't known for being straight forward, or making good sensible decision for that matter."

"Guess we'll find out soon enough," a grin cut across Henry face then, "but I'm hyped as shit though."

"Holy shit, yes!" Tangmo agreed wholeheartedly, his hand absentmindedly stroking the laspistol and sword strapped across his waist. No bolt pistol though, shame. "I'm gonna kill me some heretic!" He eyed Henry then, "wait a goddamn minute, why do you have a chainsword and I only get a sword?"

"Dunno," Henry shrugged, "maybe so you can do all of those Tony Jaa, Iko Uwais flippy shit."

"It's a freaking broadsword, not a jian. Anyway, let's just hope we don't run into anything big like a Chaos Space Marine."

"Agreed. I doubt a chainsword would be effective against ceramite plates."

Tangmo pulled the sword from its scabbard by a fraction, gazed at the gleaming blade for a moment before slamming it home, "still better than a lightsaber."

"Oh definitely, fuck Star Wars."

"Pussy ass xeno lovers and bitchy ass monks…we're still going to see Episode 7 in 2015, aren't we?"

"Yep, and we'll have fun complaining about how shit it is."

"Fat chance it's gonna be bad, nothing can sink to the level of the prequels."

"Still doesn't mean it's going to be good," Henry face became stern as they neared a compound of tents enclosed by waist high wall of sandbags. Pillboxes armed with heavy bolters dotted the perimeter at regular interval, manned by hard looking crew that looked like they were expecting a daemon to pop up at any moment. Striding toward a break in the barrier, the gunners and patrolling guards eyed them with open contempt and suspicious. Ah, so it's going to be like the beginning of the Ciaphas Cain and Gaunt's Ghost books eh? Where the new leaders must win the hearts and respect of their men, this is going to be fun.

"Dude," Henry's voice was a guarded whisper as they neared the heavy bolters emplacement, "I don't like how they're looking at us."

"Bitch, man the fuck up!" Tangmo said loudly, startling both Henry and the guardsmen in earshot.

"Motherfucker I'm not scared!" Henry shot back. "I'm just pointing out that we're walking into a very hostile crowd."

"Just imagine we're the Bullet Club strutting to the ring after cutting a promo bad mouthing Japan and Yuki's mum, I'll be Prince Devitt and you can be Bad Luck Fale. So you know, look tough and feed off the hate."

"Devitt isn't even running the Club anymore, AJ Styles is the leader now."

"Even better! I'm fucking phenomenal! Now act cool dude."

Chests puffed out, chin held high, and a hint of a Vince McMahon swagger in their steps, Tangmo and Henry made their entrance, strutting into the compound under the unfriendly scrutiny of the gather Imperial Guardsmen, meeting every glare with smiles and greetings.

"How you doin'?"

"Sup bro!"

"What's happening my dude?"

"Damn, looking good girl!"

"Nice day isn't it?"

"Chew bubblegum and kick ass, am I right?"

It wasn't long before hostility gave way to outright confusion. The men and women of the Imperium Guards had expected barking orders, scornful looks and haughty disrespect, not the startling eccentricity Tangmo and Henry were displaying. The neighborly pair was passing an assembly yard when the rows of war machine caught Henry's gleaming eyes.

"Dude…" Henry walked up to one of the towering tanks, engineers and techpriests went about dismantling and fixing the many components and armaments, oblivious to his giddy approach.

"It's a Leman Russ," it was only when Henry started gushing that the tank crew finally noticed him, pausing to stare, wide eyed, at the newcomer, "dude, an actual Vanquisher Leman Russ!"

"Hot damn son, this thing is a beast," Tangmo couldn't keep the awe from his voice.

"She's a beauty ain't she?" A burly man wearing a standard guardsman green tank top covered in oily grime walked up to them, wiping his hands on an equally stain cloth. "Made me proud on many a battlefields. Chaos, Orks, Eldars, she bloodied them all."

"Really?" Tangmo wasn't really buying the man boasting, who in turn answered his nonchalant disparage with an offended scowl.

"Holy crap, look at all these battle scars," Henry laid his hands on the Leman Russ weathered hull, the childish glint in his eyes causing the tank man's brow to rise, unsure of how to respond to a high ranking officer molesting his war machine.

"Dude, check this out," Henry waved Tangmo over and pointed at the thick armor above the sawing caterpillar track, "see these dents? Autocannon and bolter rounds dude, shot in rapid sequence at a considerably close range too," he turned to the man, who was smiling proudly, "the enemies tried to cripple the tracks, didn't they?"

"Indeed sir," the man nodded, "this one was the most recent. A Chaos warband came upon a refugee column so me and the boys went to intercept. My girl here took quite a beating in the fight, lost a side gun and the hull almost shattered. But she persevered."

"What about these ones?" Henry traced his fingers over a line of serrated indention. "These look like chainsword's bite."

"Orks raider, almost a decade ago, and it was a chainaxe that did this. Those screaming bastard came crashing out of the sky and tried to overwhelm us. Roughed us up pretty bad too, but a few heavy bolts to the face dissuade them good enough."

"And…whoa, dude, is that scorch marks from a laser fire?" Henry peered close at a straight blackened ravine scorched deep into the front armor of the Leman Russ, the man and Tangmo traded grinning glance at the American enthusiasm.

"A precise shot, inhuman accuracy," Henry looked at the man, shocked, "this Leman Russ survived a hit from a prism cannon?"

"Only a graze sir," the man grimaced at the memory, "thought that would be the end for us, those knife ear sons of bitches were like striking shadow, didn't even see them until it was too late. We were lucky though, Woran and his crew got turned into melted slush."

"I think skill was what kept you alive, not luck," Henry straightened and looked at the man, "what is your name?"

"Lieutenant Ruven of the Cadia 67th armor battalion, sir," the man saluted crisply.

"At ease lieutenant," Henry said and extended his hand, "I am general Henry and this is commissar Tangmo, we've been assigned to your regiment."

"Well, you two are certainly…different," Ruven laughed nervously as he stiffly shook Henry hands, the gesture even more rigid with Tangmo.

"We get that a lot," Tangmo smirk made Ruven flinched, "so you're the tank commander then?"

"Yes sir," Ruven nodded, "me and the old gal here have been together for almost two decades."

"I apologize for doubting your credential earlier lieutenant; I'm a born skeptic and a cynic to all things of the universe."

"Oh…umm…well, I'll say your reception was better than what the last commissar gave us," Ruven stumbled over his words; the commissariat rarely admits that they were wrong, let alone apologize.

"So what happened to your previous commissar? You ran him over or something?" Tangmo joked but Ruven went pale as a ghost. The man was mumbling a response when one of his crew, a craggy face man with a lasbolt scar running up the left side of his face that looked eerily like a Glasgow smile, spoke up:

"He was gunned down while we were fleeing Cadia, lord commissar," his jittery tone told an absolutely different story, "he was too far away for us to do anything."

An image of William Dafoe getting shot by Tom Berenger in Platoon flashed across Tangmo's mind then, quite unpleasant, all things considered.

"I'm sure you did your best," Henry cut in and pointed at the hull-mounted battle cannon, "is that a Vanquisher cannon?"

"Yes it is sir," Ruven was glad at the change of subject, "I heard we would be retaking a city, so I've taken the liberty of arming the biggest gun to clear a path for us."

"A very commendable insight lieutenant, I'm sure that with the help of your armored column, it will be quick work plowing through…"

"Eh, yo, dude hold up," Tangmo interrupted Henry, eyes flickering between the Leman Russ and his data-slate before turning to Ruven, "I want every tank equipped with standard turret."

"Umm, why?" Henry asked before Ruven can voice his objection.

"Have you seen the map dude? This isn't a Hive city we're walking into, it's a city. You know? Like the ones back home?"

Henry took out his data-slate, tapped the screen and scanned the map, "oh crap, you're right."

"We're walking into Fallujah and Mogadishu the size of freaking Bangkok. And look at this, narrow roads and alleys everywhere, it's a fucking cobweb of ambush waiting to happen. We need mobility, not extra firepower. You can have the best sword in the world, but if you're trapped in a tight space with a bunch of jerkoffs with rusty shiv, then you're fucked."

"The lord commissar is correct," Henry gave Ruven an almost apologetic look, "How long do you need to replace all the tanks with the standard turret?"

"Well, we've only begun work on half of the tanks," Ruven scratched his short, rusty blonde hair, "so I reckon…two hours at most?"

"Good, that leaves you one hour to arm the Leman Russ," Henry nodded and strode off with Tangmo, waving for Ruven to follow, "come along lieutenant; you'll need to introduce us to colonel Krillen, should be a nice way to break the ice."

"I highly doubt it sir," Ruven gingerly followed in their shadow after giving his men snap instruction on the turrets replacement, "Krillen should be in the mess hall with the rest of the men. It's this way sir, follow me."

Letting the big man take the lead, Tangmo and Henry quickly made their way through the base until they reached a wide tent, the stale aroma of cooked ration wafting from the open flap, booming raucous drifting from within. Swallowing his trepidation, Ruven strode into the mess hall, Tangmo and Henry at his heel. The suffocating silence that greeted them was so absolute that it left Tangmo staggering. Ruven scanned the room, ignoring the hostile glares that were honed on him as much as the commissar and the general. After a while, he gave an 'aha!' and strode over to a non-descriptive table occupied by a squad full of people.

"Krillen, stuffing yourself early I see?" Ruven bellowed at a guardsman and Tangmo and Henry could only gawk. Expecting to see a rugged, bearded dude like Colm Corbec or a scarred face badass like commissar Lord Bernn, the pair was surprised to find a young man, not much older than them, sporting a shoulder length brown locks framing a sharp, and admittedly handsome, clean shaven face. Krillen looked almost like a bishonen character but with enough rough, macho edge to set him apart from the girlish caricature. At least his squad looks more fitting in the grim darkness of the 41st millennium, with the correct amount of grizzled melancholy radiating from their harsh, unfriendly faces.

"Ruven! To what do I owe this…" Krillen insufferable grin twisted into a scowl when he saw Tangmo and Henry flanking the tank lieutenant, scoffing as he said, "making friends in high places, eh old man?"

"Have common military courtesy eroded completely from this regiment?" Tangmo was surprise that it was Henry who spoke up, usually it was his job picking a fight. "Or have I truly overestimated the quality and renown of Cadian's guardsmen?"

Krillen eyes narrowed dangerously on Henry, then Tangmo, before jumping off his seat, fluid and quick like a lunging snake, the sudden movement specifically designed to startle others, but the commissar and general just stared, unimpressed, at the agitated colonel.

"Colonel Krillen, commander of the surviving remnant of the 17th, 19th, 24th and 29th of the Cadian Imperial Guards regiment, reporting for duty sir!"

At his announcement, every men and women in the room stood up at attention and saluted. Pretty boy douchebag aside, Tangmo can see that Krillen was a military man through and through, commanding enormous respect from his men, which also means that he could have him and Henry whacked at any moment. The display wasn't only to show Cadian martial capability, but also served as a warning to the commissar and general that he held real power over the regiment. Too bad Tangmo and Henry wasn't moved by the weak ass shit show, he fought for Tywin fucking Lannister before coming here, this little pup got nothing on that old lion.

"At ease," Tangmo powerful timbre seated everyone back down, only Krillen remained standing, albeit in a more relaxed posture. It was then that he noticed a demure figure seated beside Krillen, a pale, scared looking girl with long, curly blonde hair, clad in the same green attire as the other but with a very noticeable white stripe running down the front of her uniform. A Whiteshields, no wonder see looked so young. Noticing Tangmo's gaze, Krillen scooted closer to the girl, who flinched at the sudden closing proximity. You don't need Chris Hansen to see that something was up.

"What's your name soldier?" Tangmo asked the girl. Damn, she's what? Fourteen? Fifteen? She gave Krillen a fearful glance, as if asking for his permission to speak, before getting up and gave a jittery salute.

"My name is Korri, sir," the girl was shaking as she spoke, "I'm the captain of the Whiteshields attached to this regiment."

"I see," Tangmo had to stop himself from asking Krillen to have a seat over there, "what is the number and fighting capacity of the Whiteshields?"

"We have two thousand Whiteshields," Krillen spoke up in Korri stead as the girl hurriedly plopped back down on the bench, "combined with three thousands of my own men and seventy armor units under Ruven."

"What, she can't speak for herself or something?" Tangmo inquired, noticing then that Krillen's squad buddies were tensing from the remark.

"Korri is very nervous around people," Krillen growled, his glare glinting sharp like an unsheathed dagger, the gleam murderously possessive.

"You would know then, colonel," Tangmo implied venomously then bellowed at the mess hall before Krillen can snap a retort.

"Listen up!" Tangmo roared, getting the attention of everyone within the tent. "In three hours you, along with nine other strike forces will be heading into the city of Kidemonas, currently occupied by about eight millions screaming heretic, former residents who has forsaken the light of the Emperor for the foul hearth of the Chaos gods."

That got some of them murmuring.

"The odds are against us, but when has it ever not? The path of the righteous and the faithful are forever assailed by darkness. But we are the Imperial Guards, we are the blazing torch of the Emperor that pushes back the night, we are the scourge of all His enemies, and, as it was since time in memoriam, we shall face this evil fearless and ready."

Warming number of cheers was rising now. Good.

"Although we now march upon the bastion of the Archenemy, our mission will not be to eradicate them, for we've been assigned a more urgent directive. Residing somewhere within the bowel of Kidemonas is a Standard Template Construct, ancient tome of technology that is invaluable to the Imperium. Our job is to secure the artifact before it can be tainted by the Ruinous power."

Agreeing nod answered him, not much, but still good considering that he had just taken command.

"Our information is limited, but our path is clear. So eat your meal, check your gears and rest up, I'll see you all on the marshaling square in three hours."

With that done, Tangmo locked eyed with the scowling Krillen, gave a him petite grin and tipped his cap minutely forward.

"Good day colonel," Tangmo winked at Korri then spun to face Ruven, the tank commander looked like he'd just learned how to breathe again, "lieutenant, would you kindly show me to the quartermaster please."

"The quartermaster? Whatever for?" Ruven asked.

"I need more guns."

Three hours later the fighting men and women of Cadia were assembled near the entrance in a fine display of martial finesse, standing still in correct and pristine files. Strolling down the unmoving ranks with hands clasp behind his back, and earning a few scathing looks along the way, Tangmo couldn't help but be impressed by the unshakable discipline of the legendary Cadian. Even after everything that has happened, they showed no weakness, stalwart despite it all.

Given the rather hodgepodge nature of the combined regiment, many of the squads were comprised of a mixture of veteran units and a complimenting number of Whiteshields. Reaching the foremost infantry column, an honor reserved for Krillen and his battle hardened company, Tangmo made a quick sweep of the guardsmen presence. Yep, these guys and gals look scary as shit.

"Colonel Krillen," Tangmo sauntered up to the K-pop looking mofo, "are the men prep and ready?"

"Yes sir," Krillen didn't met Tangmo's gaze, keeping his eyes forward.

"Well done colonel," it was only when Tangmo glanced toward the timid Korri did Krillen's glare found its singular animosity, "what of you captain? Are the Whiteshields under your command blooded enough for this excursion?"

"The Whiteshields are…"

"The captain is not your thrall, colonel, she is more than capable of answering her own question," Tangmo shot Krillen a warning look. Oh yeah, don't like it when someone else talked to your little mistress, do you? You sick pedo fuck. If they weren't going on a mission, Tangmo would've shot the man on the spot, unfortunately he needed Krillen and his men. For now.

"Well captain?" Ignoring Krillen nuclear grade glower, Tangmo address Korri once more.

"We're ready sir," the girl straightened as she spoke, having found some of her spine, "we'll do our duty."

"That's very reassuring to hear."

"Was there anything else you need, commissar?" Krillen cut in.

"I don't know colonel," Tangmo stepped up to Krillen, both men only an inch apart, "is there anything I need to know about your intimate working with the Whiteshields?"

Krillen's eyes widened at the accusation, seething indignation darkened his visage, suddenly twitching hands tightened around the grip of his lasgun. Fearful whispers rippled across the rank as Krillen squad mates quickly grabbed hold of him, restraining him from do something drastic. All the while, Tangmo gaze drifted slowly between the fuming man and the weapon in his hand.

"A word from the wise, colonel Krillen," Tangmo took a step back, "when you come at the king, you better not miss."

"Don't you worry about that sir," Krillen shook off his companions, "I don't miss."

Tangmo gave a mirthless chuckle when the sound of marching feet tore his attention away from Krillen creepy wolfish grin and toward another column of guardsmen striding into the compound. Welp, since everything on this planet got a Hellenic name, it was of no surprise that the Kolasi Fire Guards were ancient Greek hoplites, IN SPACE! Their flak armor painted a dusty gold with a red sash tide across the chest from shoulder to hip, the most striking aesthetic of the Fire Guard was the Greco-Roman leather battle skirt and the Corinthian helmet, the officer sporting thick red plumes on top of their helms, similar to what Leonidas wore in 300.

"The 480th Kolasi Fire Guard, reporting for duty sir!" A young officer saluted smartly, his men standing at attention with a Spartan like discipline.

"Just in time colonel…" Tangmo saluted the man.

"Xiphos sir."

"Holy shit, for real?" Tangmo barked a laugh, startling both Cadian and Kolasian alike, before quickly composing himself. But goddamn, the dude was name after a Spartan sword, guess he shouldn't expect any subtlety in this universe.

"Umm…yes?" Xiphos hazard an answer.

"Apology for the outburst, colonel," Tangmo smoothened his awesome commissar coat, "have your men form up behind the Cadian, if you please."

"Yes sir! Move out!" Tangmo was kinda disappointed that the Fire Guard didn't yelled 'A'oo, A'oo, A'oo!', instead they just marched off quietly to join the Cadian, who looked rather offended that they had to be working with another regiment.

"Yo, everything ready?" Henry climbed down from Ruven's tank and approached him.

"Is everything in order, colonel?" Tangmo gave Krillen a sideway glance.

"At your command, lord commissar," Krillen answered, every syllabus dripping malice.

"Looks like you're making friends already," Henry commented, not caring that the regiment was watching them intently.

"I'm all smile and sunshine, right Krillen?" The colonel answered him with a snarl. "See? I'm so nice I fucking belch rainbow."

"Okay…now with that done, time for us to hustle and grind these dubs and 187 some fools, right dawg?"

Tangmo gave Henry a flat incomprehensible look, "I have absolutely no idea what the fuck you just said."

"Yo homie, let's bust a cap in some Chaos ass!"

"You're the Alfonso Ribeiro and Xavier Woods of black people, you can't do ghetto for shit."

"Oh come on man, I was just trying something different," Henry began talking normal again, "how did I do though?"

"It was fucking embarrassing, holy shit, I can't even be associated with you right now," that earned a few snicker from the crowd, although most of them were quite understandably confused as to what was transpiring between them, "where did you heard that crap anyway?"

"All the cool kids listen to hip-hop."

"Fuck hip-hop, metal for life," Tangmo held out his fist.

"Right on brother," Henry gave him fist pump, "are you ready?"

"Oh yeah."

"I said," Henry stepped up to Tangmo and shoved his chest, "are you fucking ready?!"

"Fuck yeah. I'm ready!" Tangmo shoved back and every sentence after that was punctured by a strong, but friendly, shoving. The Imperial Guardsmen can only watched, flabbergasted, the unorthodoxy shattering their perception of how a commissar and general should behave. They had seen hardasses and kiss asses being planted amongst them before, but nothing like this.

"You fucking hyped?!" Tangmo shouted.

"Fuck yeah I'm hyped!" Henry bellowed back.

"This is hypest shit!"

"Get hyped bro! Get hyped!"

"Let's go kill some shit!"

"Yo Ruven! Sound the forward march dude! Let's rock and roll!"

"…With what?"

And just like that, the inflated hype popped without as much as a whimper, Tangmo and Henry both gave an exasperated groan as they paced agitatedly before the assembled guardsmen, many failing to hide their rising hilarity.

"I don't know, a honk, a horn, anything!" Henry told the smirking tank commander perched atop the hatch.

"Sorry sir, we don't have room for such frivolity on a Leman Russ," Ruven shrugged before sliding back into the tank.

"God fucking damn it, all psyched up for nothing," Tangmo kicked a puff of dirt off the ground.

"Well…, I have this sir," Xiphos gingerly stepped up to Tangmo, a nineteen century military trumpet in his hand, "would it be sufficient to your need sir?"

"Sufficient? Bro, that's exactly what we need! Blow that shit dude!"

Nodding, Xiphos pressed the trumpet to his lips and blew an old timey military tune, the Fire Guards roaring in response while the Cadian remained soundlessly grim, unwilling to associate themselves with their new brothers in arms.

"Soldiers of Cadia! Of Kolasi! Onward to glory!" Tangmo bellowed as the Leman Russ tanks and Chimera APCs roared to life, the war machines and the Imperial Guards thundering out of the compound in crisp parade formation, all headed for the city of Kidemonas shimmering in the hazy horizon. The march itself was thankfully uneventful, the flat grassland that separated the besieging Imperial forces and the city was void of obstacle. Tangmo had expected the traitors to start shelling or gunning them down as they got closer, a la Iwo Jima, but all that greeted them was the calm summer wind caressing their faces. Either the million strong defenders were all incompetent sacks of shit, or they're walking straight into an admiral Ackbar. Tangmo knew with a hint of resignation that it was definitely the latter, and cursed himself for referencing Star Wars.

Laid out in a style similar to 21st century city, the regiment first entered what could be describe as the outlining suburb, opulent looking houses lined the deserted street, windows and doors hanging ajar from the blocky Mediterranean buildings. Things looked peachy enough until they entered the main thoroughfare leading into the city proper. Now, Tangmo and Henry has seen some nasty shit on their previous missions, Malazan and Westeros are not for the faint of heart, but this takes the cake.

Lining the wide ten lane road were the unholy eight pointed star of Chaos. Fashioned into crucifixes, the altars of blood and viscera stood in thickening multitude from where the road began and all the way into the city itself. Nailed upside to the heretical effigy were skinned bodies of the populace who had remained loyal to the Imperium, but what made this scene even more fucked up was that the dripping red figures of sinews and muscles were still alive. Lidless eyes rolled maddeningly toward the column of guardsmen, lipless mouth howled for release, twitching limbs writhed against the bondage fastening them to wretched mortality.

"Give them the Emperor's peace," Tangmo unslung the Cadian patterned lasgun, which he took from the quartermaster along with an extra laspistol, and shot the poor soul in the head, freeing him, or her, he couldn't tell, from torment. For the hour the follows, the pop and fizz of ionized air accompanied the regiment, every discharge dimming the horrid choir, pushing back the almost tangible wall of broken wails until at last the highway ended at an avenue flanked on both sides by five stories tall townhouses. Ruven's Leman Russ grinded to a halt as Henry propped above the hatch, scanning the way before them. Taking cue from major urban warfare operation throughout history, from Stalingrad to Kandahar, Henry had positioned the Leman Russ and Chimera at interval between every company of infantry, so that both can swiftly provide support for the other when attacked.

"You there, over here," Tangmo waved over a radio operator, a black man in his late twenty with a close cropped hair, who acknowledge with a nod and came to stand beside him.

"Tune me into the general's frequency," Tangmo ordered.

"Yes sir," the man started tuning his backpack size vox-caster, the cumbersome thing wouldn't look out of place in a World War II museum, before handing the telephone shape speaker to Tangmo.

"What's happening?" Tangmo asked.

"I don't like this," Henry replied, "the fucking place look like a death trap."

"I say we go slow, block by block."

"I want to, but that commander dude is telling everyone to rush the city center. We are already falling behind because we stopped to put those poor bastards out of their misery."

"Guess we're going in then."

"This is gonna suck. Good luck dude."

"Yeah, you too," Tangmo handed the speaker back to the radio operator as the Leman Russ began trudging forward again, "safeties off boys and girls, we're in the shitter now."

While the Kolasian began priming their lasgun, the Cadian guardsmen instead turned to Krillen for compliance. It was only after the colonel gave a begrudging nod that they began shouldering their rifles, lighting flamers and loading grenade launchers. Regardless of the man carnal preference, Tangmo had to admit that Krillen was at least professional enough to follow orders.

"What's your name, my good man?" Tangmo turned to the radio operator.

"It's Meko, sir," he answered after a moment of hesitation.

"Ever been in a close quarter urban firefight Meko?" Tangmo asked as they marched into the building's awning shadow, the sense of creeping claustrophobia was immediate.

"Well…I don't believe so sir," Meko shrugged, "we were in the trenches during the battle for Cadia, fighting waves after waves of daemon and heretics."

"I'm afraid what we're walking into isn't as simple as trench warfare," Tangmo continued.

"Sir?" Meko irked a brow.

"You see the window?" Tangmo pointed at the open frames flapping against the wind. "The door? The alley? The roof? There's a gun hiding in every shadow. And did you notice that we haven't met any resistance since entering the city? Chaos heretic might not be the most sane, but they're sure as fuck not stupid. No, they're drawing us into the perfect killzone."

"Well that's fucking cheerful," another guardsman piped up, a tan grenadier with a shaved head.

"And you are?" Tangmo eyed the man.

"Sergeant Orhul sir," he saluted, "so you've been in a scrap like this before then?"

"Oh yeah," Tangmo nodded, "Afghanistan and Iraq are nightmare made manifest, especially when the sun sets. I have a feeling that when shits hit the fan, this place is going to be worse than those two combined."

"I see…" predictably, Orhul didn't get the historical reference. "Your advice sir?"

"Shouldn't you be asking Krillen for that?" Tangmo nudged his head at the colonel, earning himself a glare.

"A few differing opinions wouldn't hurt," Meko added to Orhul affirmative nod.

"Was this same sentiment given to your previous commissar?" Tangmo flashed a devious grin.

"Well, that last one was a prick, so no," Orhul chuckled, "but you're better than him so far."

"Thank you for the kind words," Tangmo tipped his awesome commissar cap, "anyway, my only advice for now is to keep your eyes peel for any movement, especially the windows, anything could be hiding behind it. Also, be ready to dash for cover when the shooting begin, don't stand around and die gloriously, you're better serving the Emperor alive than dead. Keep those grenades handy too, we'll need it to clear the buildings. A freaking flamer would be nice though."

"I got you covered sir," a guardswoman strode up and joined them, her face hard and stern but still quite pretty, hair cropped short and spikey, a flamer, attached to a promethium tank strapped across her back, cradled in her arms. "Sergeant Krix, reporting for duty."

"Stay alert and please don't spray that thing everywhere," Tangmo told her, "focus your payload on a single target and let the flame do the rest."

"Thank you for telling me how to do my job sir, I'll keep such invaluable advice in mind," Krix rolled her eyes. Sassy. That seems to be a running theme for the women in this place.

"Apology sergeant, I didn't mean to over step," Tangmo snickered, "Meko, passed what I said down the line please, we're a deep inside the city and it's way too fucking quiet for my liking."

Saluting, Meko tinkered with his radio while Tangmo braced the lasgun stock against his shoulder, eyes scanning the soundless vista with rising trepidation. They've been marching for almost an hour and haven't seen as much as a glimpse of those Chaos assholes. There were supposed to be eight million screaming heretics running wild across the city and all they had seen so far were mangled corpses that littered the street like discarded garbage. His apprehension only increased when the street began narrowing, boxing in the Leman Russ to the point where they can't turn left or right, limiting their navigation to forward and backward. At least the turret can still move. Around Tangmo, the guardsmen with beginning to brush shoulders, stocks, barrels and bayonets hitting the person next to them, the room to move becoming more cramp with every passing steps. Tangmo's uneasiness was reaching its peak when, staring down the iron sight, he glanced up at a window in time to see a stray beam of sunlight reflecting off a gleaming black barrel of a gun. Tangmo double tapped the window, two streaking lasbolt shattered the glass and was followed by a painful howl, then the tumble of collapsing body.

"Ambush!" The words had barely left his mouth when the buildings around them erupted in thunderous volley of gunfire, a mixture of lasbolts and conventional bullets rained on them from the open windows, alleyways, doors and roof, many guardsmen falling to the barrage. A high pitched shriek went up beside Tangmo and he spun to see Korri careening to the ground, a bullet catching her squarely in the head. Luckily the helmet took the blow. Krillen was on top of her in a heartbeat, standing above the girl prone form as he fired his lasgun at the shooter hiding behind a window, turning the wall into charred Swiss cheese.

"Get into cover!" Tangmo bellowed as Krillen dragged Korri away, the commissar standing in the midst of laser and bullets as he drew one of his laspistol. Both weapons having little to no recoil, Tangmo dual wielded the lasgun and laspistol, firing a wide covering arc as his men bolted for the flanking buildings, crouching against the wall as they ditched out a savage salvo on the townhouses opposite them. After a moment Tangmo dashed for cover, the roaring crescendo of heavy bolters and tank shells now joining the cacophony.

"What happened to not dying gloriously?" Orhul managed a quipped as he joined the grenadier, Meko, Krix, Krillen and Korri, the Whiteshields girl trembling as she fired at a window across the street, her accuracy quite admirable for someone who's a nervous wreck.

"I was never good at following my own advice," Tangmo said when Meko thrust the radio speaker into his face.

"It's from the general sir!" Meko shouted as Tangmo holstered his pistol and took the speaker.

"What's happening dude?!" Tangmo shouted, firing at the roof where heretics were popping above the rim like a fucking whack a mole game.

"There's a huge square just beyond this block," Henry shouted, "I'm clearing a path, follow me!"

Handing the speaker back to Meko, Tangmo watched as Ruven's Leman Russ bulled into a building, dust and debris raining everywhere as the war machine carved an avenue of escape for the embattled guardsmen.

"Vox everyone and tell them to follow the general," Tangmo got up from his cover, "let's go!"

Crouching low, Tangmo led his men after Henry destructive wake, sprinting and leaping over ruins of rockcrete, all the while dodging bullets and lasbolt as the heretics continued to hound them. Soon, the Chaos zealots abandoned the roof completely and opted for a direct assault, converging on the Imperial Guardsmen from the many alleyways. Tangmo was yelling at Krix to burn those bastards when Xiphos and his Fire Guard dashed passed them and formed a phalanx of lasgun at an alley mouth.

Tangmo could only watched in awe as the Kolasi tightened their formation, the foremost rank lowering their lasgun so that it was aimed from the hip, gleaming bayonets, longer and thicker than standard issue, pointed at the tide of screaming heretics thundering toward them, while those behind braced the barrels on their shoulders.

"Volley!" Xiphos shouted over the wailing din as red and orange flashes tore the zealots into shredded charcoal gibs, but more pressed onward heedless of death and injuries, only to be met with the disciplined thrust of bayonets from the Fire Guards, the horde of Chaos cultist breaking upon the phalanx in misty surfs of blood.

"Do not pursue! Fall back!" Tangmo rushed toward the Kolasian as the attack was repelled, Xiphos shouting for his men to withdraw, the battle square never losing its shape as they stepped out of the alley. Beyond, another wave was already rushing for them.

"That's really cute boys, now watch this," Krix pushed aside Xiphos and Tangmo, trained her flamer down the alleyway, and bathed it in liquid fire, reducing the mobs into immolated mushes of blackened flesh and bones, some flailed around in a horrid dance for a few seconds before their legs melted or snapped under them.

"That's hot," Tangmo said as Krix turned away from the inferno, shapely hips swaying.

"Thank you sir," blowing him a kiss, Krix knew exactly what he meant.

Suppressing a smile, Tangmo waved more men forward until they reached a large square ringed by ruins of collapsed building, the jutting walls and still standing beams making an excellent cover for the guardsmen. In the middle of the opening was Ruven's Leman Russ, surrounded on all side by crazy Chaos lunatics beating at the metal hull with knives, swords or their bare hands. Standing atop the hatch was Henry, his blood slicked chainsword revving down on the cultist scaling up the tank.

"Kill those fucks!" Tangmo leveled his gun and began firing into the crowd, soon he was joined by the Cadian and Kolasian who laid down a merciless barrage on the heretics. Most impressive of all was Krillen. The man was right, he never misses, every flash of the muzzle meant another cultist dead in a pool of blood.

"Ha! Nice shooting you grouchy bitch!" Tangmo slapped Krillen shoulder, who gave him an annoyed grunt as the Leman Russ backed up toward them, positioned itself in front of their cover and trained the turret down the other side of the square.

"There's a shit load of them coming down the road over there," Henry pointed at the rising clamor beyond the rows of buildings, "brace yourself!"

"Get ready to fuck'em up!" Tangmo slammed a new magazine home just as the frenzied mob pour into the square, most were armed with melee weapons while those with guns can't aim for shit. The firefight that followed was horridly one sided, the mindless cultists dying en mass as the rest of the regiment and armored column formed a firing line behind the ruins, creating an impenetrable wall of gunfire that not even the most determined heretic came within a hundred paces of their position. It soon became apparent to Tangmo, however, that they were gonna ran out of bullets before the Chaos horde ran out of bodies. Dropping down beside the reloading Meko, Tangmo raised his voice and held out his data-slate, "vox HQ and tell them to glass those motherfuckers before we get overrun!"

"Yes commissar," Meko took the speaker from his vox-caster, gave the machine a little tuning, then yelled into the receiver.

"Fire team to base, fire team to base, we need an artillery barrages on sector 38574 Whiskey, Tango, Foxtrot. I repeat, we require heavy ordnance at 38574 Whiskey, Tango, Foxtrot, do you copy? Base? Hello? Do you copy? What the fuck?"

"What's wrong?" Tangmo spun to face Meko.

"I'm not getting anything from HQ," Meko repeated the request but no reply came.

"The communication's fucked?" Tangmo asked.

"No, I'm just getting silence on the other end, nobody's answering."

"Those fuckers chose one hell of a time to go on a toilet break, give me that!" Tangmo snatched the speaker from Meko. "Yo dickhead! We need some bomb over here. Hello?! You assholes, this isn't funny! We need artillery support pronto!"

"Father Dagon, this is Deep One delta, we require heavy barrage on sector 32169 Foxtrot, Uniform, Kilo. Confirmed directive please."

Tangmo and Meko could only stare at a calm looking Cadian captain speaking into another vox-caster strapped to a confused Whiteshields boy when a response came, the serene voice echoing from his own speaker also.

"Directive confirmed, commencing artillery barrage. The Great Lords shall await your arrival so that they may reward you for your service themselves. Praised be to the Great Power, death to the Carrion pretender."

"Death to the Carrion pretender."

"Sir…" Meko voiced was hushed as he showed Tangmo the data-slate, "the coordinate…that's our position."

Eyes widening, Tangmo swung his lasgun at the captain and turned his visage of pure exaltation into blackened gore, his headless corpse flopping on top of the screeching Whiteshields boy.

"Well, shit," Tangmo shook his head and looked at each of the questioning Cadian and Kolasian in turn, some angry, some confuse, some curious, and said, "we've been betrayed ladies and gentlemen."

The shock of the revelation was only starting to set in when the sharp whistling of descending artillery shell shrieked through the din of gunfire. Tangmo could only sigh as he was hurled off his feet, the world shattering in a tempest of wind, fire and scything rockcrete.