Fulminata- A Warhammer 40,000 Story

Ancient

Brachas had died 15 minutes ago. 14 minutes and 37 seconds, to be exact, but he always preferred to round up. Either way, he wished to put Brachas's death as far away from him as possible.

His remaining squad was pushing forward. His legs were caked with bloody mud, scarcely any of his armor's immaculate white showing from underneath. His chainsword had been shedding some of its teeth from the constant engagement they were fighting in, and Boltgun ammo was starting to run low.

Regardless, they pushed forward. He certainly wouldn't have his squad fall behind. His voxbead clicked, filling his ear with the distorted sound of another squad relaying commands. He of course understood them instinctively. He couldn't remember what they were, anymore. They weren't the important part from this memory.

It was the mine.

It was buried deeply in the ground. Normally any Astartes would be able to spot a mine, but this one had been shifted in the fighting, and sunk as the ground was wetted with blood and water.

Nakanter took a step forward. His foot sunk deeply into the ground. Their superhuman hearing heard a harsh click. They knew what it meant.

An explosion blasted the squad to their backs. Nakanter was swallowed up in a fireball.

The squad immediately went back to their feet, or at least the three that still had their feet did.

Nakanter wasn't dead. No, it was far worse.

He found Nakanter a few meters away from the center of the explosion. The explosion had melted his power armor and shredded his flesh underneath. His body was bisected at the waist, and his remaining armor had been scorched black. The only way he knew Nakanter was alive was because he heard his battle brother groaning his name.

"Cicero..."

"By the Emperor..." he whispered.

"Cicero!" Veydras called, "Enemies moving up from the left!"

"Hold position!" He responded, "Nakanter's still alive, we need to get him out of here!"

"He's as good as dead," Veydras responded, "And we will be too if we don't get out of here. We have no support."

"I hate to say it," Theos interjected, "But Veydras is right. We need to pull back. We're out of position."

"I will not leave Nakanter," he said, "Not while he's still alive."

Theos grabbed him by the shoulder. "If we don't leave now, we'll all be dead."

"Then we die with him." He stated forcefully.

The pair locked eyes for a moment, behind their red lenses. Theos nodded before bringing his Boltgun to bear.

"For the Emperor."

He nodded back.

The enemy was charging them. His squad fired back. Of course, every shot landed. It was unbecoming of a Fulminata to miss their shots.

But it wasn't enough. Soon, their Boltguns had run dry. They had fallen back to their combat knives. He had taken out his whining Chainsword. The squad began to rip and tear through their enemies. He only remembered his brutality, the passion of the fight. He couldn't remember what he was ripping through, only the whining of his chainsword.

An arm grabbed him. One clad in white and stained in crimson. A friendly arm. It was Veydras's arm, grabbing him, pulling him away from a swing that would have cleaved his head off.

"Sorry Cicero," Veydras said, "But I'm not letting you die before me."

There was that sting. The venom that was always in Veydras's words. Not the kind that truly hurt, the kind that titillated, the kind that made Vedras so enjoyable. The kind that would make him miss Veydras so much.

Nakanter had long since been buried underneath the horde of enemies. He had no hope of saving his poor squadmate. Theos was in the process of being buried underneath the press of bodies. Veydras was rising upon a pile of corpses, his blade work was masterful. He might have been promoted to a lieutenant as well.

Had he survived.

Veydras's head exploded, taken by a high caliber shot, mirroring Brachas's death. The body fell limp as it tumbled down the mountain of corpses he had built.

He had lost track of Theos. He was most likely dead too. It was shame to lose a brother with such good potential on a battle like this. It was a shame to lose anyone. But it looked like he would lose it all.

Over the din of the battle, he heard a whine. Not the high-pitched whine of his chainsword, but the low, rumbling whine of a chain cannon spooling. Soon it was replaced with the ear-shredding sound of an Onslaught Gatling Cannon firing at full blast. The enemies in front of him were shredded by the powerful fire rate of the cannon.

The rumbling of a Dreadnought stomped through the horde of enemies in front of him. It was clad in the beautiful white the Fulminata Guard. It stomped through the battlefield, shredding the enemy wherever it found them. Right at its heel was another Astartes, tall even for their physiology, wielding a hissing powersword. It was the Chapter Master. The new one. Kaeso.

The Dreadnought spared turn towards him. It was the old Chapter Master, Ignatius. He had been wounded beyond repair, and now had evidently been interred in a Dreadnought. He gave a hurried salute to the ancient, honored to be in its presence. It rumbled to life, its artificial life giving it voice.

"Pick up your battle-brother, Cicero. The battle is far from over, and I know there is far more life left in you."

He looked down at the mountain of corpses. Theos lived, pulling himself out from underneath the bodies. His power armor was falling to pieces, countless wounds nicked across his body. But he lived. He leapt towards his battle brother, grabbing his outstretched arm. He pulled Theos up, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Let us march" the ancient declared. "We shall avenge your comrades, Cicero. The enemy shall not go unpunished."

Kaeso walked to Cicero. "You can get back in the fight later. Get back to the Techmarines and resupply. I'll see you in the final assault."