บท 28: No Named Marines… are Still Marines 1
The air was still, a certain dryness to it. Like a whistle in the desert, suspense was the name of the current game. Two forces– one trigger– that trigger though was in anticipation of everyone else. A good distance between the forces of the Ikon and Frymrorth was no man's land. A good bit away was the 100 marines and supporting scouts, trigger finger itching. The veil of the night sky was a contrast to their gleaming armor. How they've remained hidden is a question only answered by those above. Maybe… just maybe… this is similar to the attributed purple orkz… oh how sad to only wield a fraction of their stealthyness.
"It's been minutes, that… thing hasn't moved an inch." a random Ikon savage commented. Sweat trickles down her forehead.
"You think he's asleep in that armor?" a random fencer inquired.
To which that same woman jested, "I doubt a monster like that is anything like you."
Those close to them didn't retain much of their sanity. What was friendly banter only showed their inexperience with these armored beings. Those in higher command of this force and the veterans that volunteered– the iron sack on the lot of them– knew better. Those that heard the two were confused as to how those two couldn't feel the concurrent pressure that's building up from the astartes. While the hidden astartes were ready to gun them down, the fingers of these normal yet deranged fucks were satisfyingly twitching in fear.
"Load AP!" Suddenly, the command tank's gunner ordered something that very much would be sudden death.
"You fucking crazy?" questioned the loader.
"Denied!" said the commander in a fit of mild shock.
"Screw you! I'll do it myself then! I ain't sitting around waiting until that thing strikes first. You heard the rumors. Especially you, commander; you survived an encounter. Now I don't know if the rumor or your experience rings true, but a shell going through the air at lethal speeds– that I know is true. That is enough to leave nothing behind when a human is hit directly."
The commander had this solemn face as if subconsciously shaking his head.
"That's your first mistake," the commander said, "they're not human."
—Boom!
~Crrck!~ "ALL UNITS, A SIZABLE FORCE TO THE SOUTH OF US IS CURRENTLY BEING ATTACKED BY THE ANGELS' EMISSARI– BANG!." ~Crrck!~
The line goes silent. Dread filled the space among the 5,000.
"DON'T JUST FUCKING STAND THERE– GO FUCKING REINFORCE!"
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"GET IN THE THICK OF IT BROTHERS! FOR THE DRAGON!"
The hundred marines were spotted by a scouting party made up of five cosmonauts. Well… that was a lie. They didn't get spotted… They were spotted first.
Two scout teams deemed it impossible for the hundred– dug in marines waiting for the Keeper Frymrorths signal to change positions in such a timely manner. Elimination was the best option. The only problem being the armor of the cosmonauts.
They had silenced weapons like the stalker bolters with stalker silenced rounds… but stealth was an option and Razor Mind was on the playlist.
They reported their intended actions. The soda can was taken out of the fridge when Frymrorth called them… the scouts took said soda and shook it… the cosmonauts were about to open the can.
Setting up just ahead of the cosmonauts, they planted bombs even ISIS would be jealous of. Then, a step, then another. They got closer, walking to a doom they didn't even know existed. Sometimes Ignorance isn't blissful.
As the leading party member took its last step forward, two scout marines simultaneously blew up the charges at a safe distance.
–BOOM!
As it exploded, a signal was fired.
"CHARGE UPON THE TRAITORS AND ALIENS! LEAVE NOTHING UPON OUR WAKE! FOR THE DRAGON!"
As the wave of a hundred marines charged at the back ranks of the Ikon forces, the scouts were finishing up. The cloud of smoke eventually subsided and revealed three without legs and two rendered into soup of red. Not one to leave a task unfinished. Twenty scout marines and their respected scout sergeants pounced at the injured animals as if they were predators executing wounded prey.
As they swiftly exited cover, the cosmonauts still alive crawled in retreat. Their guns poorly aimed at the smaller targets. All shots were a critical miss, and those that came close didn't even get a prompt response from the scouts– especially the sergeants. A burst of laser whizzes past one of them, not even a tilt of the head as the sergeant dumbed a mag of his bolt pistol.
Inside the helms of the aliens, fear was on their face. Fear as they watched scout marines use grapples to climb their bodies. Fear as a one sergeant manhandled a gun away from its similarly injured comrade from their hands with only the sergeant's fist. That very same sergeant ripping the weapon in half in front of the aliens. Fear as the other sergeant walks in sundering fury, his fist balled up. Even the scouts were hesitant to approach the one his eyes were centered on. They may be scouts, but a marine is a marine.
The scouts finish one of the injured cosmos with concentrated fire. They looked over to see their two sergeants doing the unthinkable. One ripped chunks of the cosmos helm and the other was laying in on the poor guys. A right then a left and repeat. Enough force was implied as the cosmonauts head was twisting to the direction of the punches. Soon, the other sergeant did the same out of frustration. Two sergeants beating down on beings larger than themselves, said beings too drowned in fear that they forgot they had arms. This continued on for a few more seconds. That would've been enough for a full recovery, but the beat down was so bad, the scouts saw the cosmos mid regeneration of their leg stop… how the hell does regeneration stop when their heads were still attached to their heads?
It was either they were so fearful their body just stopped functioning… or the beat down was so bad they gained brain damage… the lethal kind if there's ever more than one.
Back at the larger fight. It kicked off with a sudden explosion. Those in the rear readied themselves for a fight; but what they got was a massacre. 'Readied…' What could prepare them from a sudden assault from the air? Two squads of Assault marines emerged from the rubble before them. The sound of their jumpacks roared in the sky as if a dozen dragons appeared out of nowhere.
"NO ONE SAID THEY HAD AIR SUPPORT!"
"WHAT FUCKING NITWAD CALLS A FUCKING TOWERING BEING WITH A MELEE WEAPON FLYING IN THE SKY AIR SUPPORT!"
"SHUT UP AND FIRE!"
Mid-flight, the Astartes were bombarded with great resistance from the Ikon as they got their barings. The assault marines dipped and dodge before they landed– and they landed hard. Ranging from a ground slam, a sword swing, to a foot stomp that rendered one individual into mush, morale quickly dropped from the Ikon rear forces. The assault marines were in and they already bloodied themselves. The Ikon forces couldn't stop their landing so why stop the pain train themselves right? They charge with chain swords in hand and a bolt pistol on the other. The revving of the chain sword followed by a deafening scream, finished off with a 'light' spray of red. The battle started with artistic design.
One marine landed on a more resisting side of the battle. His foot already sullied with blood and dirt. Before him were a dozen rangers and a fencer in shock. Taking advantage of the situation, he shoulder checked the nearest ranger into a wall. The ranger groaned into unconsciousness as he was buried in rubble. Twisting himself around, he drew his bolt pistol and fired two shots. A ranger lost his top half and the other lost his right half.
In a fit of rage, a female ranger charges in close range whilst firing and screaming… She was blonde. She wasn't alone though as the fencer joined her in close range. The astartes didn't even bat an eye at the ranger, eyes solely on the fencer as he dashed to him. Getting close enough, the fencer fired his jackhammer. The first 'punch' was a miss– the marine ducked low. Missing, the second jackhammer shot was redirected to where the astartes was. On the left hand of the fencer was a chain gun; it was currently pointed at the marine.
Not wanting to get hit by either of the choices, he opted for option C; SHOULDER CHECK!
A real warden main– this one. The sudden charge from the astartes knocked the fencer off his feet. The ranger that was closing in was knocked on her feet from the propulsion of the jump pack. She got lucky enough not to be in close proximity of the propulsion, the heat would've burned her.
With the turn still in his favor, the astartes swung his chain sword for the killing blow.
But mid swing– the fencer just having his flashbacks– he was taken out of his thoughts as a sudden force and cloud of smoke and dust exploded before him. Laying down, the fencer was knocked unconscious by friendly fire.
Over to the side, the rest of the rangers had their guns drawn, awaiting for the results of the man that had a rocket launcher. The smoke still lingered, but he didn't wait around as he scrambled to load another round in.
The blonde ranger too waited in bated breath.
"Damned… heretics…" two words, that's all he spoke. But to those that heard, a whole movie flashed before them. "All the Ways to Die by My Hand" was the title.
He was about to reenact such a movie. First, the man with the rocket launcher.
Dashing forth, he was met with lead– only to bounce off his armor. The panic in their eyes only fueled the marine. But a bit of hope gleamed in their eyes, the ranger with the rocket launcher finished reloading, all he needed was a bit of time. But hope is often the first step to the road of disappointment. The time he needed was never there in the first place.
—Bang!
Headless, the only thing that exploded was the ranger's cranium. The ranger's body recoiled back, the rocket launcher dropped like the hopes around it. The innards splattered on the Earthen soil. Desecrating what was already a desolate wasteland.
"DIE!"
The Astartes brought forth the might of a demi-god among the shaken fouls. Brainwashed as they may– whether willingly or not– all are equal upon violence.
Taking the launcher from the ground just before landing, the marine whipped it around and squeezed the trigger. Both ends exploded, only one side shot out. From the backblast, a few rangers were affected; the furthest only suffered a concussion; something that would be rectified shortly.
On the other end, a not so distant explosion set more rangers asunder. If not by the explosion, the debris and force alone killed many, others that remained alive suffered a chance to be finished off by the astartes with cruel efficiency. Tossed like ragdolls, minds boggled, the marine finished them off with a single bolter round each. The one sleeping in rubble– like a blanket– and the knocked out fencer weren't forgotten.
Then… kneeled… one. Despair, distraught, many words to describe her state of living– if one can even call it that. Dried mud, disheveled hair, scars and scabs. She didn't look like a soldier at that moment… just another victim of war. Her eyes were distant and pale. Colorless, void of any emotion. Overwhelmed to the point a blank face replaced her entire facial exterior.
"Oh our faceless angel," she whispers, "why…?"
—Thud
She turns to the horrifying footsteps. A giant, no human, more alien than the ones they serve. Ravagers, the lot of them. She's seen them in action as one of the survivors of their first appearance here. A survivor of only a couple of hours since her last deployment. Where they stood, the air begs for forgiveness for being still. Where they walked, a fire of symphonic melodies of bassy guns bellow with each step. Their visors an aching black, like the saying goes: when you stare at the abyss, it stares back.
The marine reloads his bolt pistol with malicious intent. An inaudible scuff only he could hear exited his mouth. With a round in the chamber, he readies for an execution.
The woman stared up at the barrel of the bolter. The rifling within like a hypnosis spiral. Knowing her time has come, knowing no angel is coming she closes her eyes to await her end– hoping it is painless and quick.
But the marine decided to spare a few words, the crackle of his stoic voice echoed out in mechanical waves.
"Hmmm…"
—Bang
A disappointed hum was all she got. The sound of the marine's bolt pistol was just another crack of a thousand guns going off into the distance. Forever lost like a whisper. Just like another day's work, he turns with no burden on his shoulders and rushes to dirty his blade even more.
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