The smoke was thick enough to taste, a bitter blend of promethium and blood that clung to every breath. The ground shook with the thunder of artillery, each impact sending showers of ash and bone across the battered lines. Through the haze, muzzle flashes carved out brief, jagged glimpses of the battlefield guardsmen crouched behind ruined barricades, screaming orders over the din; bodies, both friend and foe, half buried in churned mud and rubble. The air was alive with the howl of incoming shells and the crack of las fire, a symphony of chaos that never slowed, never stopped.
Behind Cassian, the platoon opened fire, a sound drowned a moment later by the sharp bark of autocannons. With any luck and the Emperor's blessing, they would be able to handle the mob.
The LT and her group were fanning out and joined the Stormtroopers in keeping his rear safe and providing much needed fire support.
That didn't even slow down the heretical Arbiters. They acted like automatons with stiff, precise movements the traitors unslung their riot shotguns from their backs and chambered rounds.
At least the maniacs didn't rush them. Instead, they simply moved in so they wouldn't shoot their friends. Their actions gave Cassian plenty of time to shoot two of them in the head.
The Arbiter's faceplate proved to be an insufficient barrier for his laspistol. The front of his targets' heads turned into red mist, and they crumpled to the ground.
Time moved sluggishly or at least his enhanced reflexes made him perceive it so. That gave him a great view of the remaining Arbiters as they raised their weapons and aimed them in his general direction.
Pickos and her guards were picking them off one after another, yet the death of their buddies didn't faze the rest.
Cassian let his laspistol go and drew as much of the warp's raging energies as he dared. Purple lightning surrounded him like a cloak as he let the excess power bleed off his body. His nerves lit up with pain as they were kissed by that corrupting caress of the warp, and he channeled all the energy dancing within and around him through his free hand, using the latter as a guide for its path.
He waved it in front of him and unleashed a stream of eldritch energy at the remaining Arbiters.
Those of them who were touched by the raw warp energy had the flesh stripped from their bones within moments, and the rest were thrown like rag-dolls from the concussion wave.
He stumbled back as he cut off his attack and dropped the amount of power he was channeling. His lips drew into a bloodthirsty smile as he surveyed his handiwork.
At least ten of the bastards were turned into twisted, smoldering skeletons. The remaining Arbiters were dazzled, and most of them had lost hold of their riot shotguns.
Cassian didn't let them recover and charged, holding his trusty chainsword in a two handed grip. He gave a wordless battle cry and slammed his weapon into a heretic's neck, then pushed down.
The adamantium teeth cut through armor, flesh, and bone as if it was made of butter, spraying him with blood and gore.
It all felt glorious! The shouts of the men fighting around him were music to his ears. The agonized screams of the dying it made him laugh as he cut down another heretic. Then there was the warm blood splashed over his face and mouth… it tasted like the best wine he'd ever tried!
He slammed his sword into the gut of an Arbiter who was just finding his footing and cut him in two, spilling his guts on the ground. Then a blast caught Cassian square in the chest and hurled him back through the air like a rag doll snapping him out of his blood crazed state. Somewhere in the warp, the blood god shook his head in disappointment.
He hit the ground hard, skidding across shattered masonry before rolling to a crouch in one smooth motion. His ears rang, vision flickered, but muscle memory was already overriding shock. The Warp still clung to his veins like fire, and his chainsword ignited with a snarl as he scanned the battlefield, now with his emotions under control.
A coghead loomed ahead, its limbs cutting through barricades as Faevelith met it blow for blow with her daggers. Cassian's mind partitioned instantly one half tracking the duel, the other parsing hostile vectors through the haze of smoke and las fire. A squad of cultists was repositioning in the rubble. He reached out without hesitation, fingers twitching as arcs of electrokinetic power leapt from his hands and turned three of them into screaming, charred husks. The last two tried to run. Cassian didn't even break stride as a snap shot from his laspistol punched through both skulls in perfect sequence.
Most of those in the immediate vicinity were either dead or busy dying, courtesy of Pickos and her troopers.
That wasn't something Cassian wanted to get in between, but they didn't have time to let his girlfriend have fun.
"Shoot the coghead!" Cassian shouted.
He glanced down. His carapace armor was dented no mean feat. Whatever those shotguns were loaded with, it wasn't standard ammo.
He glanced beyond the immediate area. The Guardsmen were pouring all they could into a crowd of crazed people, who were simply stumbling over their dead and coming closer and closer to them.
That wasn't helped by the presence of a local PDF squad, who had taken cover behind a nearby statue and was doing their best to suppress the platoon.
Then they vanished in a flash of light as an autocannon hit them with a frag round.
Good riddance to bad rubbish.
Cassian returned his attention to the Faevilith just in time to see her catch the traitorous tech-priest in the side with her weapon. The dagger nearly cleaved the cyborg in half, before it threw him nearly ten meters away.
A moment later, the heretic was followed by a frag grenade, which landed next to his head and blew up, shredding what little flesh he had left.
"Santos, shoot him some more, just in case!" Cassian ordered. The Stormtrooper wasted no time in complying and unleashed a hail of laser bolts at the cyborg, slagging parts of its chassis.
Faevelith gave a small smile at cassian and turned around, then charged at the crowd, which was coming uncomfortably close to the Chimeras, despite the torrent of fire that was scything their ranks.
At least fifteen mangled corpses were sent flying into the air when she hit the crowd. The aeldar waded into the maddened civilians and started killing through them with her daggers.
"The left flank!" Pickos shouted, making Cassian tear his eyes from the bloody spectacle. He looked in that direction and winced. Despite the best efforts of the Guardsmen, the heretics were almost within arm's reach of their people.
The LT sprinted that way, followed by her retinue and the Stormtroopers.
Cassian opened himself to the warp, and followed suit.
It was sheer madness. Hundreds were already dead or dying, yet the rest of the crowd simply pressed on, caring nothing for the hell they waded into. Lances of coherent light speared through men and women, flash-boiling flesh and blowing limbs away. Autocannons fired as fast as they could reload – reaping a frightful harvest with their fragmentation shells.
Grenades tore apart whole groups of people gone berserk, yet the madmen would not be denied.
He could see all that as he charged at the pressing crowd. He could feel the bloodlust gripping their hearts. It was like a miasma hovering around the locals.
For him, it was worse. He could feel their emotions. There was no reason. Only rage and the need to tear them apart.
In different circumstances, that would have been a boon, letting them goad them into a killing zone and deal with the poor sods. Here and now – it was a different affair. The insane had a good chance of reaching their lines and mixing in melee – which incidentally was the only thing that would give them a chance.
The other flank was handled. He knew it – he could sense Faevelith drawing power from the Warp and enhancing her attacks. She was tearing through the unarmored civilians, leaving the squads facing them to shoot them at leisure.
"For the Emperor!" Cassian roared, pulled energy straight from the warp, and surrounded himself with the raw power like a cloak. He willed himself to move, and the Immaterium was eager to obey hurling him like a cannon shell at the advancing madmen.
One moment he was twenty meters away, then he was right there, leaving a tunnel surrounded by crackling purple lightning in his wake. The energy he had clad himself with exploded outwards upon his arrival, pummeling everything in front of him. The civilians protected only by their clothes never stood a chance. The wave of warp energy was like a hammer blow rupturing organs and shattering bones.
"May the Emperor have mercy on your souls," he muttered at the dead and dying people around him.
Then he awoke his chainsword and charged at the closest group of locals.
For all its ferocity, what followed was short and brutal. The crazies were no match for his enhanced speed and strength.
He barely felt their kicks and punches as they landed on his carapace. Even the madness-enhanced strength of the few who tried to grapple him was insufficient to hold him thanks to the bitter power coursing through his veins.
His headlong charge gave a breather to the troopers on this side, breaking the heretics' momentum. That allowed the Guardsmen to shoot the remaining civilians with impunity.
Suddenly it was over. There was no one left to cut down, no more blood to spill. He looked around, his wide eyes searching for additional targets, but the only things he could see were torn-apart corpses and pieces of bodies.
He was slick with still-warm blood, none of it his own.
His eyes met those of the closest Guardsman, who flinched and looked away.
Damn, it was over too soon! He wanted, needed to spill more blood.
A blazing presence turned his way, concentrating its attention upon him. That very fact dissipated the haze of bloodlust that had fallen upon him. He took a deep breath and relaxed, sensing the psychic bond he had with Faevelith anchoring him back to reality. He slowly let the warp go and sagged as its energies left his body, leaving him with tired and aching muscles.
"Lieutenant, call in for reinforcements if available. We need to clean up this damn town and see if that imbecile," Cassian pointed at the only living local in the vicinity, "was telling the truth" He took a deep breath and frowned.
For some reason, the smell of blood and offal surrounding them wasn't as unpleasant as he expected.
That was an unsettling thought.
"I'm on it. Cassian, you look like shit," Pickos snapped at him.
He glanced at his front. Ah. It was splattered with blood and some less unidentifiable pieces. He needed a damn shower. Or a rag to sweep the shit away, though that could wait a bit. There was a traitorous Administratum flunky to interrogate. Besides, he needed to retrieve his laspistol.
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Word Count: 1907
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