[IC] Heroes of The Guard: A Warhammer 40K RP

[POOHEAD189]

I took her meaning immediately. I could only imagine was sort of tongue lashing I might get back at base, and so I took the piece of blank paper, cleared my throat, and opened it, staring at the blank whiteness as if it was a document I was pressed to read. "Ah, of course. Well, duty calls, as I always say." I turned to the gentry and gave them a tip of my hat, before granting the lady governor a sweeping bow, and finishing off my farewell ritual with a wink to the Arsenault. I was a fool to encourage her, but I had never been someone to eschew flirtation, and she was rather fetching in that dress. "Regrettably I must take my leave, but I shall return in two nights as you have so graciously granted me the invitation."

After a few more farewells, Sel and I exited the hall and left the corridor, only to bump into two sentries who looked put-off by the appearance of the Corporal before seeing I was accompanying her. They likely did not know me by reputation, even my exploits could not have spread so quickly, but they had greeted the Governess and the accompanying body, with my in their entourage, when I had first approached hours before.

"At ease, gentleman" Sel told them cooly, and they shifted uncomfortably as they parted before us, letting the two of us step into the waiting vehicle parked by the curb. Corporal Sel opened the door for me to enter, and I slid in, before she closed it and then hopped into her seat. Within minutes, we were speeding out of the palace grounds and onto the congested streets of Balor; congested of course, because of the tightly knit buildings that loomed overhead like unwanted teachers at the academy, not that the streets were overly crowded. The city sported strange florescent lights that dotted the buildings, replacing a single story of windows to give a trail of lights, though many groundcars, military vehicles, and street lamps were lit, cutting through the monotony of it.

"I apologize for not being there to help set the platoon up. I wish I had, but I couldn't get away from the Governess." I explained, though I was not certain just as to why I was giving the Corporal one. Of course, the other half of me knew exactly why. Because I was the bloody damned lieutenant and it was my throne damned job.

"We know where to go sir, there was no mishaps. No need to explain," She said, and though any soldier might have fed their superior officer the same bullshit, I found I believed her. She turned left up a slimmer street, likely to cut through the traffic. I turned the heat up a bit more, longing for being able to stay in my warm quarters tonight. The planet was cold as deep space, but at least it was an easy posting. I would head back, conduct the sentry screen along the coordinates I had pre-laid upon the map, and then retire for the evening. I yawned, and gave a sigh as I sat back, the lights like a distant rhythm of stars.

There was a loud pop, and our vehicle suddenly careened to the left, its back end whipping to the right, colliding with a parked aircar with the force of a thunderhammer. My eyes jolted open, and instinctively I reached for my bolt pistol as we hit the curb and landed on the sidewalk. A couple that had been enjoying an evening walk screamed and ran off, but as Sel cursed under her breath and checked the gauge of the vehicle, I saw the man and woman fall to the ground from well placed lasbolts.

"Sir, are you alright?" Sel asked, but she saw my look and knew what I was going to say before I even had the chance to.

"Get down, we're under fire!"

[Penny]

Sel cursed and ducked behind the heavy rubberized wheel of the cargo four. Las bolts snapped at them from across the street from at least a half dozen shooters. One of the tires on the far side took a hit and blew out with a spray-hiss of escaping air and a stink of volcanism. The vehicle rocked, ringing like a struck anvil as bolts punished the far side in a continual fusilade. Tactical mindset returned like a bath of cool water but it wasn’t any of the guard scenarios that came to mind. It took her back to the lean and hungry days of her youth in Glarian hive. Sel had run with a gang then, you had to in order to survive. The J-hooks they had called themselves because the came an ancient and crumbling annex to the even more ancient and crumbling tenement J. It had been a hard life, violent, hungry and filled with sudden terrors. There were magistratum sweeps which took people away never to be seen again, left to rot in prison or sold to the Ad-mech as servitor meat. There were raids, skirmishes fought over territory, food, or clean water, children as young as ten armed with sharpened lengths of industrial tubing, or hand bows made out of suspension springs. Sel could even remember seeing a black powder pistol once, remember being amazed by the power of such a simple thing. It had been a hard way to grow up but the innate paranoia it bred was surprisingly useful for a soldier.

“Behind!” Sel shouted, spinning around to see the sash of a second story window being thrown open above them. The ferocrete habs rose above them in a solid wall, half sunken into the street; their steel cored doors were reached by stone stairways with handrails of rusted wrought iron. It was certainly no coincidence that they functioned as block houses, offering no cover for a dash for cover inside. Sel was an adequate shot with a carbine, you used a carbine when things got hairy in a sentinel, but the pistol you saved for yourself in case of a flame out or worse. This grim philosophy did not equate to a lot of time spent at the range but her target was framed by the window and Sel opened fire spraying half her power pack up into the window in a flurry of shots just as one of the ambushers leaned out to toss an incendiary. One of Sel’s bolts carved a trough through his left arm and he screamed, dropping his improvised grenade. A bottle filled with promethium and stuffed with a burning rag fell from the window in apparent slow motion, turning end over end and leaving a trail of greasy smoke. Sel tried to force herself to move but she knew she wasn’t going to be fast enough to escape the bursting flames.. Kayden reached out and casually caught the improvised explosive, set his feet and then pitched it back into the window with a speed and precision that would have done a scrumball player proud. It sailed through the window and shattered on the hab ceiling, detonating with a whump of igniting prometheum. Screams and broken glass exploded from the window and Sel ducked even lower, raising her arm to ward off the drizzle of burning fuel that spattered down. A burning figure tumbled from the window, turning a half circle in the air before cracking their spine across one of the iron railings with a noise like the pop of a whip. His screams were deafening until Kayden burst his head with a single bolt from his pistol. The body slumped and continued to smoulder.

“Base 1, Base 1, this is Bravo 2 actual,” Sel called as she pressed her commbead, wrinkling her nose against the assaulting odor of petrochems and burned flesh.

“We are pinned down on the main drag, taking fire, estimate enemy is in squad strength,” she voxed. Kayden stood up and fired a three round burst at something across the street, the pop pop pop of his bolts echoing and reflecting of the hab fronts. Someone screamed and Kayden cracked out another shot before ducking back before the blistering las fire could find him.

“Base 1, do you copy?” Sel demanded there was a crackle of jamming and Sel cursed the fact the Cargo 4 didn’t have a powerful vox for her to link to the way a chimera or a sentinel did. There was no guarantee that short range vox bead, meant for squad communication, would get through.
“They will respond to the firing, but we can't stay here, we are pinned down and soon they will flank us,” Kayden said as he ducked back behind the cover of the car. The battered cargo 4 continued to ring with impacts, and glass shattered as something, probably a mirror, caught a bolt. Sel glanced up at the building behind them, no hope of getting inside without being cut to pieces by the enemy gunmen.

“Alright, well I got half a magazine left, dress uniform and all,” she apologized. It didn’t help that she had sprayed off half the mag in something close to panic, but it was true that she hadn’t come dressed for a fight.

“We need cover,” Kayden replied. Sel nodded, then rolled up and into the cargo 4. The right hand bodywork was glowing with the impact of so many las rounds and the stink of hot metal and burning upholstery stung her nose. She hit the ignition stud and the vehicle came to life with a scream and a knocking of misaligned pistons. Sel pulled her garrison cap off and shoved it under the accelerator before rolling back over the side. The vehicle began to creep along at walking pace, keeping their bodies behind it as a shield against their attackers.

“Good thinking,” Kayden approved as they crab walked along beside the mobile shield. The flat tires slapped the pavement and the knocking was getting much worse, at this rate it would only be a few minutes before the engine tore itself to bits, but if she could be assured she would be alive in a few minutes Sel would cheerfully have taken a las cannon to the vehicle herself. The las fire slackened as they got out of the kill box, but doubtlessly the enemy was redeploying. Sel was forced to try to watch all directions at once even as she kept low to avoid those shooters who still had an angle. Judging by the smoke and the stink, the cargo 4’s interior was on fire now, las fire having ignited everything flammable in the vehicle. Sel tried not to think about what hits to the fuel tank might do, though realistically this was unlikely. With a crunch the cargo 4 mounted the curb and trundled into the glass window of a bakery. With a tremendous crash the window exploded inwards in a storm of glass. The cargo 4 bounced off the wall and continued to grind against the ferocreate. Kayden and Sel leaped inside, clambering over the ruins of a display shelf, crushed pastries and pies tacky beneath their boots, the sweet smell of sugar and spices cloying their noses. The interior of the store was lined with similar, if undestroyed, display cases filled with baked goods and confections of all kinds. Possessed by some imp of the perverse Sel plucked a peppermint stick from a jar and stuck it between her teeth like a lho stick.

“Looting Corporal?” Kayden asked, trying to scrap chocolate cake off his dress boots.

“Bolstering the morale of the Emperor’s troops sir,” Sel replied around the peppermint stick.

Las fire crackled in from the street as several gunmen broke from their concealment, apparently willing to risk a rush. If Sel was expecting screaming cultists she was disappointed, they came on firing, lookinging way too professional for her liking. They wore no body armor but carried what looked like standard Astra Millitarum pattern las guns, and thank the Throne they had no grenades or heavy weapons! Sel ducked down behind the counter and checked the power gauge on her pistol in the vain hope that it had been miraculously refilled. Unfortunately it seemed the emperor had other plans.

“Brace yourself!” Kayden shouted as the enemy rushed in guns blazing.