Fulminata- A Warhammer 40,000 Story

Fresh Red Paint

He was just a Sergeant back then. By the Emperor, it seemed like a lifetime ago. It would be for any unaugmented human. The red paint on his helmet was still fresh. He had certainly seen his fair share of war, even back then, but this had been the worst.

Their white armor had been caked with mud, stained by blood, and scorched by fire. Plenty of battle brothers had died. The Chapter had been scarred this day. At the moment, he didn't care. All he cared about was keeping his squad alive.

"Cicero," one of them called, his voice muffled by the Vox distortion. "They're coming up the left,"

He sent back his acknowledgment. He checked his Boltgun's ammo. He expended four shells so far. More would be spent before the end of the day.

He looked back at his squad. Good men. Brothers. He trusted each and every one of them with his life, and they trusted him with theirs. He would try his hardest to not let them down. He had already failed Oriestis. He would fail Brachas this battle. He would fail Veydras and Nakanter later. Each one would be a strike against his heart. Each one would tear him down a little more. Each of their names would be scratched into his armor.

"Cicero," One of his brothers called again, "What are your orders?"

It was Theos. He was a brand-new battle brother, barely graduated from a neophyte. This might have been Theos's first battle.

"Let them pass," He commanded. "Once they're past us, rip into them."

"Understood, sergeant," Theos responded.

The enemies passed. By the old gods, he couldn't even remember what they had been fighting. He only remembered what they did to his squad.

He clicked his vox on. He ordered them to fire. His squad complied. The enemy squad was pulped, shredded by the bolter fire. But not all of them. One turned. They fired at the squad. Brachas's head exploded. His limp body fell to the floor. Dead.

Cicero was quite literally kicked back into consciousness. A bolt of pain shot through his body, travelling up and down from his spine. Kaeso had kicked Cicero, sending him tumbling over to his stomach.

His head had cleared, somewhat. Not Enough. He struggled to rise to his feet. Cicero pushed himself upwards. Another blow to his stomach sent him off the ground. He soared for a few moments before coming to the ground. He groaned in pain as he slowly opened his eyes again. He was atop the slab of marble in the center.

A Power Sword hissed to life. Kaeso strode to the incapacitated 1st Captain, his blade glowing in his hands. Cicero tried desperately to crawl away.

Kaeso hefted the power sword and brought it down swiftly into Cicero's midriff. The power blade cut easily through the captain, and bit deep into the slab of marble. The force of the impact cracked the slab, and pinned Cicero to its immaculate stone.

A hiss of pain escaped Cicero's lips. He felt the energy field melting his guts, boiling his entrails. His Astartes physiology strained itself to repair a wound that couldn't be fixed. He tried to squirm his way out of the blade, but it held him fast.

Kaeso's face was still obscured by his helmet, but Cicero could feel the rage emanating from the Chapter Master. He stalked over to the captain's head, and pried the helmet off. It was easy, after the beating Cicero had taken earlier in the fight. It revealed his bloody, pulped face.

It chilled Cicero to his core that Kaeso had been so... quiet this whole time. The Chapter Master had always been a man of only necessary words, but Cicero had expected his old master to express his rage vocally. Not even a growl had escaped the Kaeso's mouth as he beat down upon the 1st Captain.

As Cicero's Astartes organs worked to repair his broken body, his slipped back into unconsciousness again...