I Blame You, Too

by Whitestrake

So here I am, in a lose-lose position. Stay here and die at the hands of alien heretics - or throw in my lot with two superhuman psychopaths with a death wish! - Trooper Halvus

- Taylor’s POV -

I stumbled through the underhive’s echoing, vaulted corridors, unable to get my bearings and losing myself further to the darkness so many levels beneath the hive’s top. Basic functions were slowly coming back online as the blackness receded from my vision; my psychic powers, however, were still blunted, either from harm to my armor’s regulator, or my body’s own damage. The din of battle faded out a while ago, leaving me deaf to the world around me, and with no ammunition or functional weaponry, being deaf may have been the death of me. I flicked through a menu and turned on my radio, and received nothing but static; the thick walls of the underhive kept me from getting a signal.

I rammed through a sheet metal door and fell flat on my face; I had not expected it to give way so easily. As I rolled onto my back, my night vision came back online, and I could see my surroundings clear as day. This was once a home of some sort, a mid-hive level dwelling for some working-class family. Judging by the lack of blood and mangled meat, it looked as though they cleared out in time to avoid being slaughtered by orks; whether they escaped Chaos, on the other hand, was another matter entirely. The small habitat only had a few rooms, and I was in what I assumed to be the largest; they had running water, at least, as I heard some tap running in the next room. I hobbled over to a sofa and plopped down, sure that if orks were nearby, they would have found me already.

In the next instant, I slammed into the opposite wall as my eardrums exploded; I felt the heat of improvised explosives burning off as my armor shattered under the force. My visor went dark as the suit’s power supply moved to re-engage regeneration; though I could not hear, I felt the vibrations of numerous footsteps as people charged for me. I popped my mask off in time to see a large man covered in tumors jump on me to pin me down as six others circled with makeshift weapons in their hands. I could not move or even cry out as the first rusty blade stabbed through a joint in my plate, digging into the explosion-softened meat of my back; others soon joined the first, poking holes in everything I needed to live. I coughed black blood as I tried to signal for some aid, lest I be killed by corrupted shit-stains in some backwater planet nobody cared about.

There was a mighty roar, gargled by a vox-caster, as a silver-armored behemoth ran into the chamber; he held a halberg in one hand while he stuck his gauntlet out and sprayed a flurry of rounds from a mounted storm bolter. The cancerous bastard pinning me down exploded in a fountain of bloody chunks as I grabbed the nearest cultist to squeeze the life out of him. I nearly hesitated as I saw the young boy, no older than eight, looking up at me with as much hatred as I have ever seen. His age didn’t stop my gauntlets from closing around his neck until I felt blood vessels pop and cartilage give way; he sputtered up at me as the last breath left his lungs, the heretical rage in his eyes never going out until his heart stopped.

I wrenched the kitchen knife from his slack hands and rolled onto my back in time to catch another cultist as she dodged the Grey Knight’s force weapon; a quick stab to the base of the skull, and she was just as dead as the boy. I looked around to see if there were any other targets, only to find my impromptu rescuer had slain them all in the time it took me to kill two. After such a brief burst of activity, I was left staring into the cold blue eye-lenses of a Grey Knight, the same Grey Knight Lord Inquisitor Dorosa had kept secret. “You are the Burned Man,” he said, a statement rather than a question. “The Lord Inquisitor sent me to find you.”

“Just in time, too,” I rasped out, leaning on one arm as I tried to regain feeling elsewhere. “I trust the battle goes well?” I asked, now sure I was severely injured. Honestly, at that point, I would have accepted being executed for the heresy of knowing of the Grey Knights just to end the pain.

“Whatever blasphemous sorcery allowed the Foe onto this world has been cleansed,” he replied, picking me up with his free hand. I was in no condition to stand, and as gently as a killing machine could, he carried me around the corner, where an armored vehicle was pulling up. Unseen words flitted between him and the APC, until I could feel the vehicle’s commander conceded some point, and a hatch opened up at it’s rear. “The Lord Inquisitor says you are to be treated at the conclave’s medicae.”

I gave up the ghost and let go of reality in time to see Dorosa step into view, looking as pissed off as ever.

_-_-_-_-_

I stared in amazement at the glittering, golden halls of that seemed to stretch on for miles and miles. The air felt almost familiar, though it was heavy with the scent of incense and oils of Mechanicus rituals and consecration. I knew this could not be a vision of Mars, for there were no cogs on the walls, or anything that hinted at a culture other than devout imperial living. Everything was wonderful, and there wasn’t a skull to be found anywhere, holy artifact or no; I was a bit thankful for that, as imperial religious motifs were getting on my nerves. I took a step down the hall, and was shocked to find that I moved normally, without the augmented speed or strength I had received from wearing my armor. Indeed I was wearing normal clothing and shoes, all of human manufacture, things I hadn’t seen in the best part of a decade.

I continued down the way, keeping true, as every branching corridor was filled with the darkness of the unknown. Out of the corners of my vision, I saw men and women who faded from sight as my gaze drew too near; whatever these phantoms were, be it ghost readings from my waking self or fleeting visions of things to come, they did not make me feel uneasy. The infinite hallway seemed to be coming to a stop, as the ceiling rose into a great chamber; at the far end stood two massive Titan, guarding a gate that rose several dozen meters from a field of war banners. I kept walking, seeing the Titans unwilling to fire upon, or even move to acknowledge my presence.

As I neared the giant gates, I saw statues, eighteen in total, each a giant of a man in powerful armor. I knew their names, and I knew their faces, and these eighteen superhumans, demigods by all counts, were as familiar to me as they were to their sons. I stood before the Eternity Gate on Holy Terra, as it had been before the Horus Heresy, when eighteen legions fought for the betterment of mankind. If this was the Eternity Gate, then the Emperor’s sanctum lay just beyond those doors. I would much enjoy meeting him.

The angel standing between me and the gates seemed to have other ideas, however.

Author's Note:

Miss me? I missed you.

Comments

[The Red Angel]

IT LIVES!

And it is still amazing.

[Rhodesm96]

Fucking YES!

Also, eighteen? I thought there were twenty legions created by the emperor?

[Whitestrake]

4566323 Well, originally, yes, however, only eighteen are remembered. The other two apparently [REDACTED] and [REDACTED] to the Emperor had them expunged from all records.
And technically speaking, there were 21 primarchs.

[Grahf]

first words when I saw this update were and I quote "HOLY SH*T!"

[Whitestrake]

4566349 Only took me damn near five months.
Funnily enough, this entire chapter was cranked out in about 2.5 hours.

[RoadRunneR]

The title of this chapter is longer than the chapter itself.

Almost.

[Whitestrake]

4566457 I'm playing with the title character limits.

[Bronydragon]

Weeeeeee! It lives! And that angel seems to be a massive dick.

Dragon

[BrassSpyglass]

Fucking finally, been waiting forever. Thank you!

[Lorthalis of Crows]

Yay!

[Razzy]

Out of body experience?