"Anyone else wants a break?"
The supervisor snarled, turning his autopistol on the remaining laborers. No one answered, the whole group of menials turning around to continue whatever tasks their twisted masters of the Dark Mechanicum had assigned them. Even though more fell to the distorted claws and misshapen limbs of the Daemon Engines they were tending to - one unfortunate menial found herself impaled by several lasher tendrils that snaked out from the monstrous Engine she was applying foul lubricant too - they would rather take their chances with the random moods of their Daemon possessed charges than the sure death their supervisor promised.
"Useless trash..." the supervisor sneered under his breath, and cracked the arc whip in his other hand. A devotee of the Cult dedicated to the Lords of Iron, he had risen to his rank through fanatical displays of wanton violence and utter loyalty to the superhuman masters allied to the Dark Mechanicum. Some of the slaves whispered that he enjoyed the favor of the Warpsmith who ruled over the tainted forges of the daemon world, the mighty conquerer and liberator, Kendril Idriss.
At this rate, however, the only thing Idriss would be able to liberate the former citizens of the Imperium from would be their lives.
"What are you looking at?" the supervisor snapped and lashed out with his arc whip. Electric charges sparked into life, electrocuting another menial and causing him to topple into the glowing vat, his body still convulsing uncontrollably before he vanished in a splash of molten metal. Daemonic entities howled and celebrated, their intangible forms jumping from the sea of crimson and orange, delighted at the second meal.
A noise drew his attention, a cluster of slaves trying to reactivate a mechadendrite arm that hovered above another vat of promethium. Apparently the servitor-machine tasked to the job of scooping up the invaliable fuel from the pipes had stalled, and the menials were attempting to pacify its corrupted machine-spirit. The Dark Mechanicum servitor had reacted in typical fashion, going berserk and clubbing two of the panicking laborers into bloody plulps with its hydraulic claw.
"Do I have to do everything myself?" the supervisor snarled as he strode over to the malfunctioning servitor. As it spun around to confront him, its deamonic visage curled into a terrifying leer, the supervisor shot it in the head with his autopistol. The low-caliber round pinged against the metallic layer that housed its once-human skull and richocheted away, but the supervisor continued forward undaunted. Raising his arc whip, he cracked it against the servitor, causing it to back away in a shower of sparks with a low groan. Glaring at the cowering menials who had scattered in the murderous duo's wake, he barked out an order. "Take the damned thing apart, even if you have to use your bare hands to do so!"
As he crossed over the landing to close in on the shuddering servitor, something in the vat of promethium caught his attention. A slight ripple, one that was otherwise unnatural in the unceasing flow of promethium that gushed out of the pipes. Unlike the torrents, this ripple was circular, almost as if appearing in the middle of the lake of fuel rather than being directed from the pipes.
No. He was overthinking it. He was...
A crack of lightning, similar to the one his arc whip made whenever he discharged it, bellowed. The supervisor suddenly froze up, his mind shattered by excruciating pain and his body convulsing as lethal electricity poured through him. For the first time ever, he felt the same effects as the victims he set his arc whip on.
He never got to appreciate that irony. The deadly currents of bluish-white electricity melted his brain, boiling the blood in his head, before he crashed onto the ground, his skin blackening from the superheated rays.
The menials whimpered, but the servitor turned to face the new threat. From the flowing promethium, new figures were rising. Robes slicked with grease, glowing eyes hidden behind augmented optics, and their cybernetic arms clutching galvanic rifles and arc rifles, the silent Skitarii Rangers emerged from the sea of promethium and climbed up into the walkways.
Kree!!!
The daemonic servitor screeched and lumbered forward, its hydraulic claw swinging about wildly. Despite the horrifying sight of the oversized construct lunging forward, two of the lead Skitarii Rangers turned around calmly and incinerated the approaching servitor with their arc rifles. Bluish-white electricity arced out of their glowing barrels, overloading the machine's data-cortex in a second and incinerating what little organic remains it still sported. Smoking, the machine slumped down, the daemonic life fleeing its shattered shell.
The rest of the slaves turned to flee.
The Skitarii Rangers turned to direct their galvanic rifles and arc rifles at them, but their Alpha stopped them with a binaric blurt through the noosphere that connected them.
<Do not pursue. Our priority is to destroy the Daemon Engines. These menials can still be liberated and inducted into the Omnissiah's service once we liberate the forges.>
Without a word, the Skitarii Rangers turned as one and followed their Alpha into the festering armories below.
*
The destruction was brutal and quick. Many of the Daemonic constructs were far from complete, the monstrous machines restrained and helpless in their cradles as the Servants of the Omnissiah set about to complete their destruction. Haywire bolts of deadly electricity from arc rifles coursed through them, searing through the metal and overloading the data-cortexes that housed screaming Daemons. Melta bombs blew holes in the larger ones, limbless hulls that were awaiting their final retrofits before lumbering out into the open to slaughter and revel in carnage.
However, there were a few that had just barely been completed or birthed. With howls of rage, they broke free of their cages, tearing their way through unlucky laborers and smashing metal casings aside. The first, a Maulerfiend, galloped its way through the narrow courseway, smashing two Skitarii Rangers aside with its fists and sending their crushed bodies into vats of molten metal below. Its lasher tendrils impaled a third Skitarii Ranger who was emotionlessly and coldly hammering its thick metal with his galvanic rifle, and despite the damage he had taken, he continued to pour electric-imbued galvanic projectiles into the daemon engine. With a bellow, the Maulerfiend tore his head off.
By now, several Skitarii Rangers had switched priorities and leveled a bombardment of glowing lightning from their arc rifles at the Maulerfiend. It screeched as it rampaged through the lines of the Skitarii, knocking another few off the walkway and toward their doom, but eventually the combined electric forces scorched its circuits and brought it down with a crash. Still not dead, the Maulerfiend reached out with a lasher tendril, which spiked through the ceramite casing of the walkway, and attempted to draw itself.
"By the might of the Omnissiah, grant me enough Motive Force to smite thy enemies."
The Skitarii Alpha, Hexical 44-Luminen, stepped forward and slammed his glowing arc maul against the Maulerfiend's head. Crackling electricity was discharged with tremendous force, sending the Maulerfiend stumbling back. Without any hesitation, Luminen raised his arc pistol and blasted its head, frying whatever the daemon engine possessed for brain. Its glowing eyes winked out, like a flame extinguished, and the Maulerfiend slumped down, its tainted shell smoldering from the heat.
Luminen did not exalt or savor his victory, the part of his brain that once felt human emotions mostly stripped away by his Tech-priest masters of the Adeptus Mechanicus. Not that he had any time too, for a deafening roar sounded over him. On either side of him, two Skitarii Rangers vanished in an eruption of blood and broken cybernetic limbs as high-caliber rounds disintegtated them. From the winding growl, Luminen surmised that another of the daemon engines had succeeded in freeing itself. Linking him through the optics of another of his surviving Skitarii Rangers, Luminen saw that it was a Forgefiend, the terrifying creature trampling over a fleeing worker as it shook itself free of its restraints and aiming its Hades autocannon at the scattered Skitarii, all of whom were automatically looking for optimal positions for cover. A few electric discharges from arc rifles told him that his men were still fighting, but Luminen expected no less. Linking into the noosphere as he used the fallen Maulerfiend as defensive cover, he coordinated the bombardment and had six of his Rangers focus their arc rifles into the Forgefiend. A sudden darkness and loss of connection told him that he had lost Sigma 82-Eliton, but Epsilon 24-Arandt picked up the fallen arc rifle, miraculously undamaged by the high-caliber projectiles, and took his place as efficiently as his deceased comrade. Registering the loss as no more a mere statistical necessity - Luminen directed their fire into the Forgefiend, and when it turned to pick them off with a roar, he rose from his cover and charged, simultaneously firing his arc pistol.
The Forgefiend turned to snarl at him, its daemonic, mechanical jaws snapping to obliterate him, but Luminen ducked and rolled under, just barely evading the metallic death-trap. He rose to his feet and rammed his arc maul against the daemon engine. A burst of electricity sparked between them, the Forgefiend staggering backward as it howled in fury and agony, but Luminen mercilessly swung his arc maul again, his strike erupting in another shower of sparks. The Forgefiend tried to bring its head down to bite him, but Luminen raised his arc pistol, and even without bothering to look, fired off a precise burst of bluish-white lightning that shattered its jaw.
His Skitarii Rangers rallied around him, firing accurate streams of lightning from their arc rifles without fear that they might hit their Alpha. Luminen was the one guiding their aim, so he did not worry about being caught by friendly fire, and even if he was laid low by one of the lethal bursts of electricity, he was expendable. His next-in-command, Beta 22-Gammon, would merely take over and fill in as efficiently as an unbroken cog recplacing a damaged one.
The Forgefiend stumbled, and Luminen, with numerical overlays and threat assessments running over the lenses of his optics, seized the oppportunity and thrust his arc maul. There was a loud crack, and the Forgefiend lay still, twitching from the vast amounts of electricity that continued to run through its smoldering husk.
<33.46% casualties sustained. Losses within acceptable parameters. Continuing the mission.>
Without pausing, Luminen stepped around the fallen Forgefiend, scanning the forge for more daemon engines to destroy. He tapped into the mind of Omni 93-Spex, who was analyzing the forge for more threats with his omnispex. The veteran Skitarii Ranger raised his hooded head and shook it, a strangely human gesture that remained even though his organic self had long ago been subsumed into the machine.
<No other threats detected. Nevertheless, I advise we proceed with caution.>
<Understood, Spex.> Luminen acknowledged through the noosphere. <We will sweep this area of the forge one last time before we head toward the central complex.>
Spex tapped his omnispex again, this time directing it toward the direction of the central complex.
<Alpha Luminen, I am picking up activity in the central complex. The numbers seem anomalous. They seem to be...increasing. But I am picking up no activity of teleportation charges.>
Strange. Luminen understood Spex's confusion. It was as if the enemy was appearing out of thin air. How they conducted such activity was unknown, but if there was one thing the Crusaders of the Machine God were capable of, it was to obtain knowledge and information.
<Very well.> The Skitarii Alpha declared as he ensured that his Tech-priest masters were receiving the data-feed he was recording through the noosphere. <Then we shall see how they are bringing in reinforcements. We will move out immediately once we have secured this place.>
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