"Well then, wytch, anything to warn me of?" asked Murdok, looking inquisitively at me.
"Nothing so far, sir. There's a lingering warp taint hanging around every corner in the precinct, sir." I reply.
Everywhere in this damned place is beginning to look the same to my senses, hallway after hallway, sealed doors, and vacant rooms. The inner buildings, as far as I could tell, were completely devoid of any life, and for anything beyond the central building in which we were held, there was nothing but static.
Some doors leading to offices were left open, as were cots and lockers, which were left unmade and halfway open. As if they all decided to up and exit the building en masse, leaving the only sound aside from our men was the low droning of the vox system, on which a prerecorded sermon to the God Emperor was playing on a loop.
"Warp taint?" Murdok asks.
He begins to look back and forth between the walls and the men and women following behind us, as if, by glaring hard enough, he could see the sick that tried to cling to us all.
A combination of the sermon's words and the fortress's wards was all that kept us from immediately succumbing to the Grandfather's rot. If either of the two stopped working, the best I could do to halt the inevitable rot was to try to circulate the air around us, hopefully keeping whatever it was that turned one's body against them out.
Murdok shakes his head, banishing his worrisome thoughts to somewhere deep and repressed, "It doesn't matter right now, as long as we make it to the armory, there's enough firepower there that we can decimate anything that even tries to get close." He states with confidence.
Confidence that I'm inclined to trust, knowing very well what kind of weaponry the Adeptus Arbites routinely carry, our odds of survival would only increase if we got the rest of the 'vics in flak and weapons in hand. Preferably, those that they won't use on us the first chance they get, that is.
Future thoughts for future problems. Into the forever box you go.
Speaking of future problems…
"Murdok, sir, what's the plan after this? I don't think we have a chance against anything that managed to push an attack this far into the precinct… Even with what? A dozen armed scumsuckers? You and your enforcers are the best of us, there's no doubt, sir. But the rest of us are fodder, no two ways about it."
Murdok gives me a strange look, beginning to realize that for all my glaring flaws, I hadn't survived this long by being stupid, entirely stupid that is. I did make an attempt for a better life after all. Nothing more mindbogglingly stupid than wishing for something above your station after all.
"Supposing we find the quartermaster, or more likely, his dataslate," he frowns at that, "we will equip ourselves and work our way towards the motor pool. God Emperor willing, the Commissar meant to pick up our quota will still be there, along with his detachment of honor guards."
It just doesn't ever get better, does it? Arbite? Dealt with, befriended even! Enforcers? Scared shitless! A Commissar? Yeah, sure, why not?
Outwardly, I grin, forming an Aquila with my hands as if in reverence at hearing the Guard was but a few hours away.
"Will we be accompanying them back to base, sir?"
"Aye, there we can at least get in contact with Marshal Vortern, from there it's in the hands of those far above us, wytch."
Heh… hehehe… hehehehehe!
He said we! No guard life for me fuckers!
"Back to business, check the halls ahead and give me a sitrep, should be the cafeteria and barracks up ahead."
Nodding ever so dutifully, I do as told.
Blink.
Rot.
Blink.
Bodies.
Blink.
A bloodied Enforcer locked in an adjacent room.
Blink.
A smell so foul I can feel it invade my senses through the warp.
I stop dead in my tracks, putting up my fist in a halting motion.
"S-siR," my voice cracks, "stOp."
My voice comes out in halting, squeaking, and all too worrying noises.
I begin to shakily unload the rounds from my shotpistol, replacing them with standard 12-gauge shot, and wave forward Allicent, the only one aside from Murdok to have a shield at hand.
"P-Poxwalkers." I stutter out once I feel Murdok roughly grab my shoulder, "Dozens, we need to go around, they're hibernating, waiting, we need to seal the door, sir."
I feel not a shred of guilt in leaving that Enforcer to die. I don't know if Murdok would be pragmatic enough to leave the man there, knowing that he's willing to bend the rules if it aids him, based on my own recruitment and the deputization of the 'vics.
Murdok looks solemn, shaking his head, "This is the quickest way to the armory, wytch. Investigator Mulroy put the precinct into lockdown while he was awake, leaving only these passages to ensure nothing would impede our path." Looking somewhat contrite, he continues, "This is the only way through without lifting the lockdown, and we cannot say for sure what lies outside of these walls. We cannot risk it."
"Allicent! With me!" He places a basic metal key into my hands, "Uncuff them. Better if they help us than stand back and die anyway." He looks back at them once more, "If they run, let them. Either they help us or they die; it no longer matters." Sounding not as angry as I expected him to be, but instead, resigned.
All hands on deck, then, there are too many of the creatures for us not to try and get the 'vics to fight, and at the very least, they'll fight to survive.
What with the only way back being the dataslate securely tucked away in one of the Intelligencer's various pouches. Either they try and take it, no doubt dying in the process, either by getting their skull smashed in or torn apart by the poxwalkers we were to face in but a few minutes.
"REJECTS! You have all been exonerated by Intelligencer Murdok Kisner, protector and enforcer of the Will of the Lex Imperialis!" I loudly shout, letting raw emotion bleed into my voice.
Please let this work.
"You are all scum, I included!" my free hand rapping my flak armor, "But there are enemies at the gates! Mutants, traitors, and worse!"
The hope they had in their eyes all died harsh deaths in that second.
"But you are better than them! Men and women of the Imperium, are you all to lay down and die!" High praise considering where they were, "Are you going to let a freak like me do better than all of you?!"
The Prick, of course, leave it to him, would never take an insult to his pride lying down.
"Shut it, freak! What do you expect us to do? We don't even have anything to fight with!" he whined, still all too cowardly but unwilling to back down after the blow to his ego.
Shit, good point.
"Hah! As if that would change anything, huh? The 'lil noble boy's gonna actually get his hands dirty?" I adopt my best sneer and physically loom over him.
"Prove it." I unshackle him, and before he realizes what I've done, I shove him forward towards the Enforcer duo, "Allicent! Manny! Sidearms and ammo for our dear Noble!"
Thankfully, as Enforcers, they were equipped to deal with unarmed civilians and lightly armed gangers, stub pistols and clubs suiting their needs just fine, and not something we would have to worry all too much about. Their stub pistols being chambered in something similar to a 9mm, not meant to punch through flak and carapace. We'd survive a few shots... I hope.
"We've got one more stubber for you lot! That's two for two now! A highborn Prick and a freak, both willing to fight for Him on Terra! What a sorry sight that is!"
This time, I even hear laughter behind me — the Enforcers and deputies' derisive laughter reaching their ears, showing exactly what they thought of the rest of them.
It was while I looked over the 'vics that I heard a clinking of metal. Onward stepped a meek-looking girl, probably the same age as the Prick, even younger maybe… Emperor-above, she's just a kid.
She juts her hands forward, looking me in my eyes, "For Atoma." She whispers, loud enough for her voice to carry in the hallway.
My face twists as I can't help but smile at the girl's words, shame and pride warring within me as I can feel her conviction in the warp, so strong is her will.
"Well then, Girlie, you've earned a place at the Emperor's side."
Unshackled, she runs toward the Enforcers.
I've maybe just sent her to her death. How long has it been, I wonder, that I can do this without breaking down?
I dangle the key in front of the rest of the inmates, shame and determination written across their faces, and with a flex of my will, I shatter the nearby tables into heavy and unwieldy lengths of wood.
"Arm yourselves, rejects, and prove that you deserve the love of our blessed Emperor."
X
It was when I returned to the front that I felt a hand clasp around my thigh, and I nearly fired off my shotpistol on reflex. Looking down at the hand, I see that it was Investigator Mulroy, his rebreather discarded beside him inside the cart, his piercing red augmetic eye looking as if he could see inside my very soul.
"Gut them, freak." He rasps out, letting me go as Ryse and Barley take up whatever makeshift clubs they could fashion and wheel him off elsewhere.
Suckup and Prick stood next to each other, Suckup giving the boy a crash course on how to properly wield the firearm, the boy only being passingly familiar with exotic las-weaponry that vaporized entire torsos of men rather than the humble stubber.
Good idea.
"Girlie! Get over here." I shout over the clamor, as the only other person with a pistol, I wanted to make sure she at least knew how to shoot the damn thing.
As I walked towards her, expecting to show her the ropes, I saw her swiftly unload and reload the pistol with alacrity, a hardness now showing on her face.
Ah, I see.
She's got fire in her, all right. Being this far down in the hive, there's no doubt she'd at least had to defend herself once before.
"Well, then, it looks like you've got yourself handled. Now then, aim high, headshots if you can land them, if you can't, don't bother, the pistol doesn't have enough stopping power to put one of the monsters down for good."
"Monsters?" she replies, the slightest hint of fear coming from her, yet her hands remain steady.
"Yes, poxwalkers, corpses, and bodies puppeted by sorcery," I state, seeing a zealousness bubbling beneath her skin as she looked towards the door.
"Stay behind the Intelligencer... The big man with the shield," I reiterate, seeing the confusion on her face, "Him and Allicent will keep the poxwalkers boxed in, make sure you don't hit them, alright?" She nods and walks forward, placing herself behind Murdok, with him glancing at her, then at me, an eyebrow raised in question.
I shrug before moving on, reaching into the warp, checking each of the 'vics to determine who I need to keep an eye on, which is all of them, obviously, as each harbored malice, while others were cowards, looking for a chance to run at the first opportunity.
Surprisingly, Prick was determined to fight, his pride all too obvious, excitement overcoming his fear as he held the stubber tightly in his hand. His confidence and arrogant demeanor returned to him now that he had Suckup as his unofficial bodyguard.
"All right, boys and girls! Eyes on me!' shouting to get their attention, "These are pawns of the Great Enemy, they will not be felled by normal means! You cannot swing wildly, else you and whoever's closest is dead." As I let my eyes wander across the crowd, I see that all are listening, each at least willing to learn of what they are facing.
"Intelligencer Murdok and Enforcer Allicent will be at the front; they will be our shield! And they will not fall! For you will all be making damn sure of it!" letting a wisp of my control slip as an icy rush falls over the crowd, while making sure to leave Murdok and our Enforcers out of it.
Sorry, Girlie.
Murdok took over at this point, barking out orders and moving the men into position as he and Allicent readied themselves. Thankfully, Murdok was unwilling to waste our lives, as I had been concerned about. He quickly devised a strategy in which they would let in a few of the creatures at a time, letting the 'vics wail on them until they were dead and then reopening the door to repeat the process.
With a hiss and the resounding clank of grinding gears, the door opened, revealing glowing green eyes that rose and locked on to our position, as the puppets groaned and lunched to their feet.
X
Truthfully, I don't think I'll ever remember the entire fight, constantly being barraged with their putrid stench. As the first of their number reached us, our duo quickly shoved, the 'vics bracing themselves at their backs, hands tightly grasping onto their armor in case they needed to be pulled back lest our wall be lost in the throng of decaying bodies.
It was a push-and-pull motion we settled on: push, as one, to clear space, allowing a few to slip through. Pull, as we moved back, as the men descended upon the monsters like wolves to the slaughter, nothing but raw strength and adrenaline, pulping their heads with stomps as their makeshift clubs broke their frail bodies. Some poxwalkers even have light armor and uniforms belonging to Enforcers themselves, the 'vics having to be especially careful after we lost one of our number when the corpse continued to shamble forward, its jagged claws tearing into his gut and pulling his stomach outwards, their clubs doing nothing against the armor. PRick being the one to put the creature down with a well-placed shot.
The ringing of shots was felt all around us, with us having to yell for orders to be heard and leaving others dazed after one too many shots close to their ear. The armored poxwalkers taking yet another life as Prick and the girl were reloading.
While I'm sure I would never forget the smell, nor the feeling of having rotten flesh try to eat its way through my boot heel, it was the silence that would no doubt always stick with me.
Oh, sure, the men yelled and hyped themselves up as they broke the monster's charge.
Still, the puppets of the Sickly One were eerily quiet, no longer feeling pain, letting the all-consuming numbness fulfil their every need, no longer thinking, and no longer caring, only pressing ever onwards.
An enemy that never tired, never slowed, and felt no fear.
Funny.
Even as their numbers dwindled, I could feel the weight of each kill mount upon our forces, clubs winging a bit slower, stomps no longer immediately resulting in a kill, and more and more of them backing away, leaving our two sharpshooters to pick up their slack.
Already, I have had to remind the inmates of my presence, whether that be from the roar of my shotpistol, or by telekinetically flinging them back into the fray, like picking up kittens by the scruff of their necks.
Time to act.
While Murdok and I agreed that it was best not to agitate the warp overly so, I could tell that any longer and the men would break. The men's wandering eyes never strayed far from the bodies of three of their fellows.
"Murdok!" I yelled, "Move!"
He looked back, seeing no weapon in my hands and no danger behind him. He quickly realized what I was about to do, stepping back and unleashing a deluge of flashing light and concussive force from his suppression shield. He retreated, Allicent never leaving his side, the two still using their weapons to shatter limbs and send bodies flying back in the case of Murdok letting loose with his shock maul.
As I stepped forward, I once more focused, closing my eyes and suffusing my body with the warp currents that flowed ever so quickly around the precinct. And when I felt I could hold it no longer, I let out a wordless shout and crushed.
With a screech of tearing steel and the messy, squelching sounds of bodies rolling and fusing together, I opened my eyes and beheld what I wrought upon the puppets.
The cafeteria tables and benches were torn straight from the rockcrete floor, forming jagged slabs of metal that tore apart all that stood in their way before the bodies themselves were slammed against one another, forming a large, grotesque ball of flesh that now sat in a steaming pile of awful in the middle of the floor. The groaning and shifting of limbs still being heard from somewhere in the center of the mass.
Where there were once shouts and cheers from the men, there was now silence as they once again realized the monster that lurked among them.
A monster draped in human skin. A psyker. A freak. A Wytch.
I dared not face them, not wanting to see their fear.
It wasn't until I heard the small pattering of feet that I turned to my side, the girl looking at the monstrosity that I created.
"They all dead?" she asked, eyes still glued on the thing.
"Most," I reply, "It'll have to do for now. We need to keep moving."
She only nods before running back behind the shield wall, standing beside the Prick and his guard.
I began to take in my surroundings once more, now surveying the full breadth of the cafeteria, eyes roving across the once-pristine walls before I locked on to what I feared I would find. Knowing deep down that I would eventually come across the accursed thing.
A wytch circle, and seven dead troopers.
Two of whom I noticed were the men Murdok brought, while the other five were unknown to me. All still in their armor, kneeling in supplication to an idol of rot and decay, a vaguely body-shaped object bound in chains and lettering that made my eyes hurt the longer I looked at it, and what I swore was a pulsating heart that was attempting to eat its way out.
Fleshcrafting.
It was the roar of bolterfire that brought me out of my thoughts. Murdok immediately unloads a fusillade of rounds into the fetish, the shells detonating and sending flesh and bone flying — a keening wail coming from the now verydead Thing.
As he steps forward, rebreather hissing, he once again kneels to collect their dog tags before stopping, reaching towards one body, and inspecting it.
"What're you looking at, sir?"
He twitches, "This is Arbitrator Cluso, a man who was once able to kill a mutant bare-handed, but here he lies, unharmed, not a scratch on him, not even chaffing around his wrists."
"He came here willingly." He pauses and turns to me, glowing red visor burning a hole into me, "Why?" he grounds out.
"You know the answer already, sir." I gesture to the large idol that even now, still radiates a sickening sense of glee and malice.
"A frakkin' wytch." Murdok spits out.