Mathias, A Warhammer 40k Story

part 6

Never-ending tides of scarred flesh meander down the tight alleyway. At the entrance, firing teams set up all along the road. Long Bolt Rifle barrels peeked down the smooth stone of the bombed-out shop. Opening fire with aimed shots, most missing but some manage to stumble or stop a body altogether.
Eventually, the line of gunmen kneels for the heavy stubber to emerge mounted on a bipod and being given belt-fed death to rain down on the masses. The distant roaring of Chainswords echos to the entrenched marines. An eerily quiet mist covers the men as all motion stops. Peering as hard as they can through the fog, the sudden emergence of dull red shapes exploding from the mist surprises everyone save the most veteran. The entire front line is met by the furious Chainswords and scarlet flesh of Khornite Berzerkers. Their maddening howls of pleasure and pain combine as shots blast into the Chaos Marines.
"FIX BAYONETS!" The order comes crashing down the line as hard as the Berzerkers. Those still alive try and manage the order, throwing bodies off of themselves and screaming their own blood-curdling war cries. Bright red Lasrifle energy lances through the enraged enemy.
A heavy 'chunk-chunk-chunk' sound comes swinging around behind the guardsmen. Heavy Bolter shells blaze their bloody path down the corridors as the explosive heads take their time to impact targets before ripping them apart with instant gratification. Large chunks of flesh and small armor pieces litter the alleyway in front of Auggie. Holding his helmet close to his head, his eyes stand wide at the sight of carnage surrounding their position.
Members of both armies lay slaughtered all about the prepared positions. Shell casings and bloody viscera litter the ground equally. A shell-shocked Commander wanders the field. His only foot still attached slipping on the carnage in the streets.

Ok Mygnuss, just like training. 1, 2, 3..."In honor of the God-Emperor of Mankind and my office as the Commissar Commander of the Odrodzenie Second Battalion I hereby relieve you of your duty." Cocking back the hammer to his ancient bolt pistol, Commissar Nok punctuates his point with the lowering of his firing pin.

Approaching the slaughter zone, Mathias is greeted with the remains of the quick battle. Peering into the chunky, smoked-out hull of a Leman Russ - Mathias is greeted with a wonderful sight. The elongated claws and jaw of Onaicious lay scattered about the floor. Rearing his head back in laughter, the dark, deep voice reverberates off of the rock formation.
"You fool! Hah! The insolent worm is brought to bear witness on the justice of the true gods!" Mathias's hands raise and grasp out to the flashing purple, green, and red sky above. "I have once again been shown truth! Never shall the gods look down upon their most reverent host. Salvation..." his words trailed off to let the suspense of his own delicious moment hang that little bit longer. A low, quiet grating sound is heard off in the distance as another meter long shell is loaded into Lightbringer.
A worn skull face flashes in the binary suns. Deep grooves and cracks warp the cheekbones and jawline in the faceplate. Large blocky teeth glare out from the mask as the shriveling tentacled-tongue behind it beings to writhe and taste the air.
"IS HERE!" Dropping instantaneously in front of the Mega Battle Cannon, Mathias leaps to the top hatch and rips it off the hinges. Dropping into the tank, Mathias roars and lets loose his gifted war ax. Spinning in the same delicate dance of death as before Horoxx, Mathias handily rips the guardsmen apart. Any not killed immediately are blinded by the writhing necrotic energy infused within his ceramite plating. Before long the entire firing crew inside the Mars Pattern Baneblade is slaughtered. Striding to the data center, Mathias plugs a cord into the console and beams a connection to the Grim Talon. Immediately a signal is received and sent back to Mathias. The screen playing non-stop information sputters and cracks. Green smoke billows from the cracked glass. As Mathias takes his leave the shuffling and moaning of the bodies heaped in piles begins.

Managing to keep the wide grin, the possessed Astral Navigator's bright green eyes squint as Horoxx examines the new information sent by Mathias. Passing along seemingly meaningless updates, Mathias includes the details of Onaicious to be accounted for. A longing pulls towards the surface of the planet.
A desire to complete is compelling Horoxx's attention. Scanning the rapid information being given, Horoxx can not pull his whole attention from the nagging urge to descend. Shutting down all other objects of concentration, Horoxx focuses directly on the sensation drawing him to the planet. Outside of the Astral Navigator's mind, his face is completely slack and gazing. This has gone unnoticed due to the unholy ability of Mathias armor. Outside of the Grim Talon an unseen thread of energy weaves its way through the void, eventually the atmosphere, and into the remains of Onaicious.
Not a quick thing, at first. At the atomic level, atoms and molecules are rearranging at the will of Horoxx. Spinning a web of biomass purely on instinct.
Pieces become chunks, which warp and mold to form shapes basically resembling humanity. A figure over three meters tall stands hunched from a massive lump on his back. With a roar of new life, the Demon Prince rips at his back with a set of massive talons. A thick rod protrudes from the back of the newborn prince. From it, two more connect in a cross shape. Out from these extend a giant ring of rotted flesh and pitted, rusted metal. Inside of these rings spin jagged blades that suck in cold air and blast the Demon Prince up over the lip of the rock formation.

Needing precision far more than any ballistic missile, Mathias' teleporter is a fickle piece of equipment. Having been spotty to use at the best of times before the chaotic infusement, now it is only good for one or two short jumps before needing adjustment. Having no choice between jumps except to run, Mathias is again left with plenty of time to brood about the recent actions. During his musings, far above, Mathias can hear the loud, droning and whistling of propellers. Massive smooth stone walls line the corridor Mathias is currently traversing. Unable to make out the source of the noise, the very idea of adding air superiority to his now drastically crippled front line, pushes Mathias harder, ever forward.

"You told me seven days minimum! What are these creatures laying waste to my second battalion!" Slamming his fists down on the armrests to the small, floating throne, Poktis Bok rages on to the face of one of the many adjutants. Having no answer but to stammer, Poktis slaps the imbecile aside and thrums over to the Equipment Operator.

"Explain to me, just how you were unable to see the enemy so close to our front lines!"
No answer is given. Far beyond frustrated and enraged by the lack of usually stringent command, Poktis Bok thrusts forward, grabs the guardsman by the tunic and jostles him about-faced. "Answer me or you will answer to Nok!" The piggy digits on Bok's hand grasp at the clothing of the Equipment Operations Officer. The shaking slides the officer's squat helmet back as bright green eyes erupt from the shadow of the helm. A broad grin stretches wide on the Officer as his own hands shoot up to grip the throat of Poktis Bok.
Yelping in fear, Bok slams his hovering throne backward. His crashing movement is slowed slightly by the few bodies behind him. A quick screaming is heard before the unlucky ones not paying attention to their lord are crushed below the anti-gravity field.
Shuffling forward, following the floating throne, the possessed guardsman lunges towards the nearest body. Grasping the loose clothing in outstretched hands, the monster brings the body near and digs impossibly sharp teeth into the adjutant's neck. Caught by surprise the adjutant screams and holds the wound for only a moment before their eyes blaze green, a wide grin forming on their face. Lifting its bolt pistol the adjutant begins firing on the Command Center. On its own mission of destruction, the possessed Officer begins ripping and biting into anything near it. Chaos quickly ensues. The command center is in a total panic as people are bitten, shot, mauled, and all rise back from death with blazing green eyes and massive grins.
Watching the bitten adjutant turn, Poktis Bok rears his floating mini-throne around into his personal office. Smashing through the door, Poktis careens over towards his desk. The desktop splits and opens upon him nearing. Rotating smoothly, a practiced move every day, Poktis lands and loads himself into the lower half of his weaponized personal command vehicle. A roaring of well-oiled, ancient engines comes to life. Flipping switches and connecting mechadendrites, Poktis becomes one with his vehicle. Bursting out from the facade of the desk, Poktis begins spinning up the twin gatlins of the assault cannons mounted to the vehicle.
"Hit the deck!" Not waiting for a response after his order, Poktis rains down death to all those before him. Electronics pop and flare, limbs explode gore and blood, ceramite plating on the walls themselves crumble and break under the barrage of bolter rounds. It still wasn't enough. Missing limbs, walking with massive holes in their torsos, the bodies keep pushing forward. Their toxic green eyes are the last thing Poktis sees as the assault cannons run dry.