40K: The Lightning Thief

[Kuja]

Yep. Another Kuja 40K thing. Getting tired of them yet?

Not much of a story this time, really. Just a scene I really wanted to write. Blame these guys.


WARHAMMER 40,000

The Lightning Thief

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When the glass shatters on the fiftieth floor and you're the one going through it, you only have a few seconds to rethink your life.

Fortunately, it only takes one and a half to kick your armored foot and spin yourself around to get your jump pack facing in the right direction so you can hit the thrusters and slow your descent just enough to hit the ground without breaking half your bones.

On the other hand, even if that doesn't kill you, the ravening crowd of heretics just might do it.

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The warpstorm that had engulfed the Erevign system had been brief - only five years in length - but violent. Its its wake, it had left the planet and its famed sprawling cites of glass infested with warp-twisted creatures and blasphemous preachers for the dark gods. Worse still, the baroque form of Chaos Marines had appeared as well, the pale blue armor of the debased Violators chapter spearheading the effort to overturn the planetary government. Some suspected that they had conjured the storm to begin with.

The Imperium's response to the crisis was a three-pronged attack. The great war machines of the Legio Titanicus Venator were deployed to the battlefield, there to crush the masses of heretics underfoot - sometimes literally, as the lumbering behemoths waded into those cities worst affected by the rebellious forces and unleashed their might.

In the areas that yet sought to turn the tide, the Sisterhood of the Argent Shroud joined the fray, working methodically to cleanse the planet city by city, a thousand armored women working like a scalpel as opposed to the bone-crushing hammer of the titans. They found little that could stand against them as most of their enemies proved to be unarmored - and sometimes barely-armed - fanatics, divested of their humanity in grotesque ways and reduced to little more than howling warpspawn.

And finally, at the news of the Violators' presence came the Angels of Death. A company of the Adeptus Astartes White Scars came to Erevign, their roaring warbikes tearing through the streets of the corrupted cities and tearing through the ranks of the enemy in search of their traitorous cousins. Where they traveled, the sound of bolter fire followed and heretics died en masse. Rumour spread that when they killed one of the heretic-marines, they would chain his armored body to their bikes and drag it behind them so as to inflame the Violators' wounded pride.

Whether that rumour was true or not, the Violators certainly responded to the presence of their loyalist brethren with renewed vigor, driving their enslaved masses ever harder against the defenders of the Imperium.

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"Khione! Report! What's your status?" Etain heard her vox chatter with the static-laden voice of Regine Haas, her seraphim captain.

"Alive, making friends," she deadpanned in reply. Her sword was already out and in her left hand, and as she rose from her landing crouch she drew her inferno pistol with a snap of steel and pulled the trigger, obliterating one of the nearby cultists. Despite the way her helmet's visor threw everything into sharp relief, indicating targets and outlining the bodies of her enemies, she tried not to look at them too hard, letting her eyes slide past the brands and tattoos and piercings of blasphemous icons that marked their flesh.

The crowd swarmed towards her and Etain kicked on her jetpack, soaring upwards amidst howls of pain as her jump jets seared flesh and blackened bone. As she lifted from her feet, the woman's power sword sliced through the neck of another of the cultists, as easily as a hot knife through butter. As she flew over the crowd she aimed herself for a first-floor canopy, coming down atop it and crouching once more to take herself out of immediate line of sight from any revenge fire. As she did so she was already calculating her journey back up to rejoin her unit. "I'm on my way back," she said into the vox.

"Belay that," came the crisp voice of the Canoness Preceptor. "Etain, I've just gotten word that the traitor-marines have engaged our cordon. The White Scars are en route. Get around to the north side and give them what aid you can. Haas, if you can disengage your squad get down to street level and join them."

"Yes, canoness," Regine replied smartly.

Etain grinned beneath her helm. "With respect, ma'am, you expect me to go alone into a fight against Chaos space marines?"

"I expect you to do as you're told, Sister Etain," Canoness Meyr's voice responded.

"Of course, ma'am. Merely wondering, should I give the heretics my pistol to even the odds?"

"Ten devotionals," Johanna Meyr responded, her voice cool. "Enough lip, Khione. Get on it."

"Yes, ma'am!" she replied. Rising from her crouch she dashed forward, running across the glass panels of the canopy and keeping her head low as a smattering of thrown objects and low-velocity slugs came flying her way. Sheathing her sword she drew a grenade from her belt and flung it into the massed bodies of the howling cultists, feeling the vibration of the subsequent explosion as it rattled the panels beneath her feet.

Her running stride soon brought her to the corner of the building and her boots skidded on the glass as she made the turn, struggling to keep her armored weight from pitching off the side of the canopy. As she came around the north side, ahead of her she could see the distinctive armored forms of the space marines. There were ten of them, a full squad, each one a massive baroque creature in pale blue. One of them was a champion of some kind - Etain could tell by the heretic's great bulk, the spikes that crowned his helm and shoulderguards, and the great sword he carried in his hands that screamed with unholy fury as it laid into the bodies of the loyalist troops. Even at her distance, Etain winced to hear the sound of that bone-chilling howl.

But the horrific screams were answered by a throaty roar, and from a side street further down the thoroughfare came a trio of stark white machines, their riders armored in similar fashion to the heretics. The three bikers gunned their engines and the huge, blocky machines closed with blinding speed. A moment later the air shook with the pulse of bolter fire as the White Scars opened up on the traitors. Three of the Violators were cut down in the sudden volley, and as the Astartes closed the gap they drew their blades, and a fourth traitor had his head cut from his shoulder as the leader of the bikers passed the group.

The battle was not entirely on the side of the Angels, however. As the trailing pair split to pass on either side of the Violators, the Chaos champion took a sliding step and sliced in a diagonal line from shoulder to waist. The screaming blade tore through the chest of one of the Astartes, and continued on through the cowling of his bike to shear the machine almost in two. The White Scar tumbled, his bike tilting and going into a flip as it spun out, the violence of the crash finishing the job that the blade had started and wrenching the machine apart.

As the remaining Astartes began to turn in preparation for a second pass, Etain sprinted forwards and fired her jump pack, sailing through the air towards the confrontation. She came down just behind one of the armored behemoths of the Violators, and even as the heretic-marine began to turn, reacting to her presence, she pressed the muzzle of her inferno pistol to his back plate and pulled the trigger. The resultant stream of superheated air tore a burning hole through the Violator's armored torso and he crumpled, little left of him but a few limbs held together by scraps of metal and meat.

Another of the Violators turned even as his comrade toppled, lashing out at the interloper with his chainsword. Etain was already backpedaling as he swung at her, and the roaring weapon passed through the air just a few centimeters short of her armored chest. Before the heretic could redress and attack again, Etain lit her jump pack once more, leaping away from the confrontation. A moment later the White Scars made their second pass, the guns of their bikes blazing once more, and both the Chaos marine that had attacked the seraphim and another of his comrades fell in the barrage.

The enemy champion, however, stepped aside from the onslaught as easy as a man stepping out of the rain, and with a skillful turn of his body, ducked beneath the attack made by the leading White Scar's blade and then rose, his own howling sword slicing through the commander's armored leg. The Astartes wobbled atop his bike and then turned into a controlled crash, sparks flying as the bike slid across the thoroughfare, the wounded Astartes tumbling from his seat. Etain's heart nearly froze at the sight. She hadn't seen such dreadfully effective bladework since her duel with the Word Bearers coryphaus on Monocerat IV.

The veteran's remaining companion was more successful with his run, however. Rather than try blades with the Violators, he gunned his throttle and slammed the nose of his bike into one of the armored heretics. The shock of the blow knocked the Chaos marine from his feet, and he fell beneath the fat tyres of the bike, metal squealing as the White Scar ran him down. As the bike left him behind, however, the Violator rolled slowly onto his belly, beginning to push himself to his feet. He paused as the thunk of metal registered and a studded, fat cylindrical object rolled across the roadway underneath him.

Etain's krak grenade went off with a chest-rattling bang and the seraphim was forced to flee for cover as the remaining marine fired his bolter at her. The Chaos champion was stalking towards the downed White Scar, who by now had managed to pull himself to a sitting position against a lamppost, his own blade out as he awaited the approaching traitor.

Then the air erupted with the sound of roaring jets, and gunfire followed as Seraphim Squad Haas descended from on high, showering Etain's attacker with bolter shells. "Death to the enemies of the God-Emperor!" she heard Regine's voice crow over an open channel.

With the arrival of the Sisters, the Chaos champion seemed to reevalutate his situation. Without warning he burst into a run, sprinting past the downed White Scar and closing with his still-mounted companion just as the Astartes slowed and began to turn, tilting his machine to come around for another pass. His commander roared a denial, but it was too late for the marine. The Violator champion struck out with his sword, impaling the warrior through the chest before ripping his armored body from his seat and flinging him away like nothing so much as a piece of meat. Then he clambered onto the machine himself, taking the controls and gunning the engine, tyres squealing as he peeled out, a few hasty snap-shots bouncing from the rear cowling of the machine.

Etain was running. She didn't know why - at the rate the stolen bike was accelerating there was no way she could catch it. Despite that, she sprinted down the road after the fleeing champion, her armored boots carrying her past the downed White Scar as the man struggled to rise with the aid of the lamppost. It wasn't until she was nearly to his idling bike that the gravity of what she was doing occurred to her, but she holstered her pistol as she slid to a stop and bent over the toppled machine. It took all of the armored woman's strength - even enhanced by her power armor - to pull the huge bike upright.

"You! Woman! What are you doing?" she heard the veteran's voice bark out.

As she flung a leg over the width of the bike and set her hands to the controls she spared the man a glance. "I promise to return it," she said quickly. His reply was drowned out as she opened the throttle. The bike reared beneath her like a startled beast, the forward chassis leaving the ground as the rear tyre spun wildly. Etain leaned her armored weight forward, bearing down on the wild machine and muscling the forward wheel back down as she accelerated in pursuit of the Chaos champion.

Etain Khione was a tall woman, and strong, but she was no Astartes. Sitting back in the bike's seat was out of the question; instead she was forced to straddle the thing, the thrumming of the engine shaking the whole of her body as she fought to muscle the handlebars into the position she needed. Voice were yelling in her ear, but she could barely make out the words over the bellowing of the attack bike, and so she shouted, "Khione, nothing heard," and switched off her channel.

The Chaos champion had a good two-block head start on her, and the seraphim opened up her throttle to the maximum in an effort to close. Struggling with the bike's controls she attempted to bring the enemy into line with the machine's boltguns, and praying she had a solution squeezed the trigger. The attack bike shook with the force of the volley, but Etain's inexperience with the machine proved costly as the explosive rounds flew past their target, shattering the glass and concrete of nearby buildings instead. Worse, it drew the Violator's attention. The champion glanced back over his shoulder and then flung out his hand. Etain barely saw the small, dark object as it flew through the air towards her, and she suppressed a gasp as she pulled hard at the handlebars. The grenade exploded to her left, and the blast nearly flung her from the back of the bike. She clung tightly to the machine as it wobbled, but the thick tyres proved their worth as she stayed upright and angrily fired another brief, untargeted spurt of bolter rounds that, if nothing else kept the heretic's head down.

Then he leaned and turned off the thoroughfare onto a ramp that joined with an overpass. Gritting her teeth Etain threw her weight behind her own turn as she followed suit, passing so close to the barrier at the edge of the ramp that she nearly swore she could hear grinding. Ahead, the highway was abandoned but for a few wrecks, and the Violator's stolen bike roared as he poured on the throttle. Etain realized that he was trying to escape to the southern cities where more of the corrupted forces awaited him. If she didn't catch him in the next few minutes he would surely get away. With a grimace she flattened herself against the back of her bike in an effort to minimize resistance as she screamed after him. Lining him up once more between the painted lines, she triggered the bike's weaponry. A quartet of shots rung out and then the bolters fell silent.

Etain swore and even went so far as to pound an armored fist against her dashboard as her rounds zipped just past the swerving Violator. What to do now? Her inferno pistol didn't have the range, and she couldn't possibly fling a grenade far enough to catch him at this speed. She stewed, lips pursed beneath her helm. Then she hit upon a solution. It was insane, suicidal even...but she'd already stolen an Astartes' bike and thrown herself into a fight against a knot of Chaos marines. 'Suicidal' was a line that had been passed some time ago.

She just hoped the veteran would let her live.

The woman flexed her legs and pushed, bouncing herself up to brace her feet against the bike's back seat. The wind buffeted at her, making her position precarious, but she didn't intend to hold it long. With a kick of her legs the seraphim ignited her jump pack and leapt from the back of the bike, leaving the machine behind as she flew through the air and angled in on the fleeing heretic. As she descended he glanced back and started to swerve away from her, but it was already too late. She came down on the back of the bike and drew her sword, stabbing forwards to plunge it through the back of his neck. He tried to sway aside, and instead the weapon bit into his back plate just below his right shoulder. With a roar of outrage he took his hand from the controls to try and reach back to grab the tenacious woman with his left - and with the pair of them shifting and grappling atop the bike the machine's front wheel began to skew.

Etain's heart leapt into her throat as the bike tilted beneath her. The crash happened so fast she didn't have time to fire her jump pack. She was flung from the back of the bike and barely managed to curl into a protective ball as she struck the pavement. The blow knocked the wind from her and her limbs went limp as she bounced and rolled, skidding across the road to smack against the median. Pain erupted everywhere; she was going to be looking like one big bruise after this, she thought in a daze as she lay there, limp.

The Violator fared somewhat worse than the Sororita. The weight of the bike slammed its rider into the road and rolled over him as it crashed, flinging him into the air as both man and machine were dashed repeatedly against the roadway. As the sound of shredding steel died away, the Violator laid limp upon the road and for a long moment Etain was hopeful the crash might have broken his neck or else caused some other damage to put him down for good, but to her dismay the baroque form rose, giving voice to a deep groan as the champion slowly pushed himself to his feet, there swaying for a long moment as if drunk before reaching back and snarling in pain as he slowly drew the woman's sword from his flesh, casting it aside.

Etain used her legs to push herself up against the nearby median, struggling to rise on legs that felt as steady as a gelatin mould as the Violator slowly limped his way towards her, groping for his daemonic sword and drawing it. The seraphim groaned, her muscles burning as she drew her inferno pistol, pointing it at the Violator despite the way her hand shook and the barrel swayed, half-threatening to burn the woman's own legs off if she dared trigger it.

The sight of the lethal weapon seemed to deter the champion little. As he drew closer he raised his sword holding it point-down so that even if she dared shoot him, the traitor's bulk would likely fall upon her, impaling her with the screaming steel. She could hear his breathing through his helmet grill, a thick, husky growl like the breathing of some carnivorous beast.

Then another growl rose to drown out the sound of the Violator's snarls, a machine-roar from the distance that grew louder with each passing moment. From the distance came a formation of five more of the White Scars upon their bikes, and this time there was no sidestepping the hail of bolter rounds that erupted from the attack squad. The champion stumbled back, briefly managing to stand up against the onslaught of explosive rounds, but as the ceaseless battering continued, his armor began to shred and the flesh beneath began to burn. The daemon sword was shattered, its screaming steel silenced by a lucky round. Soon enough the Violator toppled onto his back, by which time his body hardly resembled anything that had ever been human.

The bikes' engines dropped to a low purr as they slowed. One of them peeled off to stop beside the wreckage of Etain's hijacked bike, while another moved to do the same for the one that had been stolen by the heretic. The remaining three smoothly closed a half-circle around the seraphim. At the back of one bike sat the familiar form of the armored veteran, the stump of his leg blackened and rubbed over with emergency repair cement. Etain winced to imagine how painful the quick-hardening stuff must have felt against his wounded flesh.

"You," the veteran declared, pointing an armored finger the size of a power maul at her. "Come here."

Etain swallowed her initial response as she fought to stand, slowly working her way up onto one knee with the aid of the median. The veteran made a gesture and ane of the White Scars rose from his bike to approach her. The large man reached out a hand and she accepted his aid gratefully as her legs shook beneath her. He started to guide her towards the commander, but after a moment or two she managed to shrug off his hand and disengaged her jump pack with a soft groan of relief as she was freed of the heavy backpack's weight.

Holstering her inferno pistol, she reached up to pull her helm free, gasping as the cool air from without struck her face. Brushing back a few stray locks of auburn hair that had become plastered to her features, she came to stand before the White Scar and, with a swallow, squared herself. "Here I am, brother," she said.

He regarded her for a moment and then reached up to remove his own helm. His features beneath were pinched, his skull bald but for a topknot of dark hair. A forked beard adorned his chin, and many lines of old scar tissue marked his cheeks and trailed back over his head like the stripes of a tiger. "I am," he announced, "Veteran Sergeant Kahen Ran of the White Scars, born of Chogris, son of the Great Khan. I will have your name."

"Etain Khione," the woman replied, her own voice croaking a little bit. "Seraphim of the Argent Shroud, daughter of the Emperor."

"And thief," Ran added as she finished speaking.

Etain spread her hands briefly in a weak shrug. "I apolgize for my offense, brother. I only meant-"

"To steal my precious attack bike, a machine as treasured to one of my brotherhood as a man's own armor, so that you could chase recklessly after a heretic - committing the same crime as he in doing so - and all but wrecking both machines in the process. That is what you were about to say, yes?" Ran prompted, lifting his dark brows and spearing her with his fathomless gaze.

Etain opened her mouth to reply and then second-guessed herself. After a moment, she simply said, "yes."

Kahen Ran held her gaze for another long moment. "I am enraged," he said. "And insulted. I am dishonored by what has happened here. I demand retribution, Sister Etain Khione."

Etain swallowed, but nevertheless set her jaw, her green eyes staring back into the White Scar's face. "What would you have of me, brother?" she growled, fists bunching.

Ran worked the gauntlet from one hand and handed it to his brother. With the hand that was yet armored he reached out and took hold of Etain's shoulder. Her back went ramrod-straight and she tensed in anticipation. Ran's blow was quick, and the right side of Etain's face suddenly stung fiercely. The Astartes had deftly swiped the hard edge of his index finger and thumbnails across her cheekbone, and blood welled up to stain her face as it dribbled from the lines he'd opened in her face. She yowled as sweat stung at the lacerations and started to lift her hand, but stopped instinctively as he boomed, "do not touch it! Do not dirty the wound, or you shall blacken the honor marking!"

"Honor mar-" Etain started to repeat, her green eyes going wide as the realization struck her.

"I am enraged," Ran restated, "that I was dismounted with such ease. I am insulted, that my weakness meant that the kill was not mine to make. I am dishonered, in the face of your valiant pursuit of the one that would steal from my brethren. I have exacted my retribution, by placing the scar that shall remember this day upon your flesh."

Etain grinned, and blood crept into the corner of her mouth as she smiled at Kahen Ran. "Really," she said. Then she punched him, her armored fist colliding with his jaw and snapping the White Scar's head back several inches. "I'm honored," she said, shaking out her knuckles that stung from the blow even despite her protective gauntlet.

Ran looked at her and smiled, barking out a brief laugh. "Bring our good sister her blade," he said with an imperious gesture. "We shall return her to her fellows. After that," he said, pulling his gauntlet back onto his hand, "I must inform the machinists that I shall be requiring a replacement leg."

One of the White Scars offered Etain her blade, still dirtied by the blood of the traitor marine. She wiped it clean and set it in its scabbard before returning to her jump pack as Ran detailed a pair of the Astartes to tow the damaged bikes back with them. Spitting out a few drops of blood she decided not to replace her helm, clipping it to her belt instead. She still ached all over, but it was an acceptable ache as she slid herself onto one of the bikes behind the White Scar that held the controls.

Eventually she would get the wound treated, wearing a bandage upon her face so as not to risk infection.

When it finally closed and the bandage came off, a pair of silvery scars had taken shape upon Etain's face.

She still had to say those ten devotionals, though.

[madd0ct0r]

fun. and a nice balanced approach to the seraphim.

[Kuja]

Thanks. Seraphim are some badass ladies. I'd love to see some more decent Sisters novels.