Day 183. Year 988.41st Millennium
Hive Orion
Lower Hive
After neutralizing the gang members guarding the corridor near Entrance B52, Omega ordered his subordinates to halt for a moment to prepare for the next phase of the assault.
They checked the power levels of their back-mounted hot-shot lasgun capacitors. The House Guards found they had enough charge for approximately 90 more shots.
Omega, however, had only 30 shots remaining.
He wasn't fazed by the low energy levels. To conserve ammunition, he simply switched his hot-shot lasgun's firing mode to semi-automatic. He then took several grenades from the small pouch on his back and hooked them onto his tactical belt, keeping them ready for immediate use.
The preparations were finished in short order. Both of his subordinates produced combat stimulant vials and slammed them into the sides of their necks.
With the chemicals coursing through them, the brutal CQB (Close Quarters Battle) began.
Omega and his team moved down the corridor with swift, ghostly silence. The shield-bearing House Guard took point, serving as the primary mobile cover. Omega provided mid-range fire support from the center, while the final House Guard pulled rear-guard duty and secondary support.
Though the corridors were repetitive and disorienting, they didn't hesitate for a second. They cleared the hallways one by one, purging every room as they went.
Reaching a junction within the base, the three of them stacked up and sliced the corner to eliminate blind spots. They spotted a group of gangers sprinting toward them—men armed with nothing particularly formidable. The three operatives rounded the corner instantly, led by the shield-bearer.
The Iron Fang gangers were caught completely off guard. Before they could even raise their weapons, Omega and his men struck with lightning speed.
The closest ganger was floored by a brutal shield bash to the face, followed immediately by a point-blank execution from a hellpistol. Omega and the other House Guard stepped out to the sides to clear their firing lines, picking off the remaining thugs. Their hot-shot lasguns sang with rhythmic *pew-pew* sounds, sending ruby-red beams with lethal precision into the enemies' vital organs.
The beams punched fist-sized holes through the unlucky gangers. The wounds looked as though the flesh had been incinerated by high-intensity heat and struck by an explosive round simultaneously.
*Bang! Bang! Bang!*
The remaining gangers managed to return fire. Omega and the unshielded House Guard dove for cover instantly, while the shield-bearer stood his ground, leaning into his suppression shield to soak up the incoming rounds.
Omega and his subordinate timed their movements perfectly, leaning out to return fire. They knew that while their high-quality carapace armor could deflect light small arms fire, it still had weak points. They didn't trust their lives to the armor alone—they knew a single moment of carelessness would be their last.
Pew! Pew!
The hellpistol in the shield-bearer's left hand barked, dropping a ganger who failed to find cover in time. Omega and his other subordinate broke from cover immediately, signaling the team to advance and crush the remaining resistance in the sector.
As one ganger desperately fired at the shield's observation port, Omega slung his rifle, charged the man, and delivered a staggering elbow strike to his face. Before the thug could recover, Omega drove a combat blade up under his chin, ending the struggle.
The skirmish in the corridor was over in seconds. Omega sheathed his blood-stained knife, stooped down to retrieve a dropped autogun and its magazine, and ordered his men to move out.
_These hive scum are even easier to handle than armed insurgents_, Omega thought to himself, checking the action of his weapon as they advanced.
"You revels in his superiority... I can grant you the power you truly desire,"
the demonic voice from the Warp hissed once more.Omega let out a soft sigh, choosing once again to ignore the whispers.
_____________________________________________
The Corridors on the Far Side of the Base
"Damn you! You're dead!!" a ganger roared in fury before lunging out from a corridor corner to strike at the invaders.
Foooosh!!!!
Only seconds after he stepped out—before he could even level his weapon—a thick torrent of flame erupted from a heavy flamer held by an approaching House Guard. Two more guards followed closely behind him.
The ganger screamed in agonizing pain as the liquid promethium clung to his skin, searing through his flesh. He tried desperately to roll on the ground to extinguish the fire, but it was futile. Within moments, the flames claimed him; his body collapsed and went still. The acrid stench of burnt meat and chemical smoke from the promethium filled the narrow passageway.
The three House Guards marched past the smoldering corpse with cold indifference. They had a mission to complete. They were among the few teams that had managed to breach the base without being cut down by heavy weaponry first.
They moved with practiced caution and rigid discipline... unaware that they were walking straight into a death trap designed to crush them.
The House Guards halted at a sharp corner. They fanned out and breached the turn, ready to eliminate anything in their sights. But they found only emptiness. At the far end of the hall, however, the Reaper was waiting for them.
BANG!!!
The thunderous crack of an anti-materiel rifle erupted from a ventilation duct. A .50 BMG round—the same caliber used in heavy stubbers—tore through both House Guards simultaneously.
Their high-grade carapace armor offered no protection against a massive slug traveling at such high velocity. The sheer kinetic energy nearly tore their bodies asunder. Worse, the bullet punched through the fuel tank on the flamer-wielder's back.
BOOM!!!
A violent explosion rocked the corridor, bathing the entire area in a roaring inferno.
The lone surviving House Guard pressed himself against the corner, his mind racing for a way to neutralize the hidden threat. Thanks to his conditioning and combat experience, he showed no sign of panic.
He quickly pivoted toward an alternate corridor, knowing the path ahead was impassable—now a miniature sea of fire. Even if he could cross it, the hidden sniper would surely pick him off.
Suddenly, he heard the metallic screech of a vent cover being kicked open, followed by the heavy thud of an object hitting the floor.
KABOOM!!!
The blast ripped the House Guard apart. While the armor plates remained largely intact, the concussive force and shrapnel reduced the man inside to tatters.
As the echoes died down, a figure dropped from the ventilation shaft. It was Russ, a high-ranking member of the Iron Fang gang and a former PDF soldier. He clutched a massive bolt-action anti-materiel rifle. He wore battered PDF flak armor with a tattered, makeshift cloak draped over his shoulders.
Heavy, rhythmic footsteps approached. As the figure came into view, Roos saw his leader, Cronos, clad in heavy Power Armor. The boss looked to be in a foul mood.
"Good work, Roos," Cronos grunted, glancing at his lieutenant and then at the mangled remains of the invaders. A single look told him these were House Guards from House Korvax.
"It's a mess out there, Boss. The boys can't hold them off," Roos complained. He knew the situation was dire; the invaders were far more skilled and better equipped than the average ganger. Their main force was being systematically slaughtered by the copper-armored soldiers.
Furthermore, the survivors were continuing their push into the base without showing any sign of slowing down.
"I'll deal with them myself," Cronos said, his voice a low rumble of barely contained rage. He hoisted his Power Axe, looking ready to cleave anyone who annoyed him in two. "Go. Contact the others and regroup."
"Understood, Boss," Roos nodded, bowing slightly. A moment later, Cronos stomped off to hunt the invaders.
Once the area was deserted—or at least devoid of anyone still breathing—Roos set off toward the makeshift radio station to coordinate the remaining gangers for a counter-offensive.
But in a split second, the high-pitched snarl of a chainsword tore through the air. Before he could react, the humming blade was driven violently through his spine from behind.
VREEEEEEENNNN!!!!
His low-quality flak armor did nothing to save him. The whirling adamantium teeth shredded metal, fabric, bone, and organs into a gory slurry.
"Augh..!"
Roos tried to scream, but his lungs were being torn to pieces. His limbs spasmed uncontrollably as his nervous system failed. His rifle clattered to the floor as he coughed up a thick spray of blood.
Seconds later, the tip of the chainsword burst through his chest. Roos's body went limp and slumped to the floor, blood pooling rapidly around the fatal wound.
Splattered with gore, Eric stood over the body. He let out a small sigh, then a faint smile touched his lips. He finally had a weapon powerful enough to take down his target. Now, he just had to—
Eric looked down at his assault chainsword. It had jammed; the engine had sputtered into silence. He tried to thumb the activation switch, but there was no response.
"...Damn it," Eric hissed. He struggled to wrench the chainsword out of the ganger's corpse. It was wedged tight. He had to brace his foot against the body and pull with both hands.
"Ah!" Eric cried out as the blade finally popped free. The sudden release of tension sent him staggering back, and he landed hard on his backside in the blood-slicked metal floor.
"This is terrible," Eric muttered, hauling himself back up. His eyes suddenly sparked with joy when he saw the massive anti-materiel rifle lying next to the corpse.
Eric strained as he hoisted the heavy rifle. His arms trembled as he tried to steady the massive weapon. In his female body, lifting something of this weight was a grueling task, but he managed to shoulder it nonetheless. With this weapon, even a target in Power Armor would be an easy kill.
And then, he could finally go back to his life in the Underhive.
Eric slung the anti-materiel rifle across his back, gathered whatever extra supplies he could find, and vanished back into the shadows of the base, continuing his hunt for the target.