Excellent. He was still in optimal condition to continue his fight for the Emperor. The Krieg trooper rose unsteadily, looking around. He was in a cell, surrounded by moist stone walls, and on one side, what served as a door was replaced by a row of spiky bars. On his other side, his plasma gun had been left untouched, lying on the asphalt floor. Whoever had brought him here had generously allowed him to keep his weapon.
Trooper 451 paused and closed his eyes, dredging up memories. If he was to serve the Emperor, he was better off knowing what had transpired. He recalled serving alongside the 6th Argent Armor, with his regiment, the 422nd Krieg Siege Brigade. They had been caught by surprise by a Drukhari raiding party, the sleek, spiky ships sailing in from an unknown webway to abduct the citizens of Tetsu. Along with two Leman Russ tanks of the Argent Armor, the 422nd Siege Brigade had responded instantly, the Krieg infantry moving up to engage the Venoms, Raiders and Ravagers that had erupted from nowhere.
There was fierce fighting. Trooper 451 wasn't sure of the details, but he recalled firing at a group of Kabalite Warriors, trading las-fire against their splinter rifles. The men around him had fallen, going a small way in repaying Krieg's eternal debt to the God-Emperor as penance for their great betrayal a millennia past, but they had wreaked a toll on the Drukhari raiders.
But then the Incubi came. Weaving through the net of ruby red las-fire, they were suddenly in the midst of the Kriegers, cleaving them apart with glaives and cruelly carved blades. Trooper 451 had turned to aim at them, undaunted by the carnage and loss of his squadmates, but...that was the last thing he remembered. A burst of pain had exploded in his mind, causing him to black out...
...and now he was here, trapped in a cell. No doubt abducted by the sadistic Drukhari.
Trooper 451 felt neither fear nor despair. He was one of many cloned troopers from the vats of the subterranean facilities in radioactive Krieg, indoctrinated to serve the God-Emperor and continue paying the price for his world's unforgivable betrayal. He was more than happy to sacrifice his life for the Imperium.
However, he was no fool. Simply dying was of no benefit to the Imperium. So he shall bid his time and wait for an opportunity, and in doing so, maximize the chances of dealing maximum damage to the enemies of the God-Emperor.
His first opportunity came when the Drukhari slave owners came for him. Opening the gates, they shepherded him out, along with the other prisoners. Trooper 451 did not recognize any of them, but they ranged from captured Kroot mercenaries, a brutish Ork with a power klaw and a big shoota, to a xenos he was unable to identify. There were few, if any, humans among the gladiators. The Ork was guffawing in relish, clacking his power claw and even attempted to eviscerate the dark Eldar slaver, but she swiftly punished him with her thorny whip. The weapon might be slender, but evidently it had been coated in toxins, for the Ork roared in agony and was brought down to his knees from a single cut.
"Go," the Drukhari slaver hissed in low Gothic and gestured toward the arena. She smiled wickedly. "Fight for your pathetic lives. The best gladiator will receive a bigger meal than the others."
The Kroot chuckled and was the first one out, his feathers rustling in the wind. Trooper 451 didn't share the enthusiam of the other races and patiently followed behind. He checked the power levels of his plasma gun, noting that the Drukhari were generous enough to provide him ammunition. Plasma flasks, scavenged from other fallen Imperial soldiers, had been presented to him.
All they wanted in return was entertainment. Trooper 451 would give them that for now, and then further punishment later. When he met up with his fellow Guardsmen. For Krieg and the God-Emperor, he would return to this place - which the slaver had called Commorragh - and claim it for the Imperium.
But he couldn't do anything when he was on his own.
The first opponent was a Talos pain engine, the floating abomination's claws snapping threateningly. It was accompanied by its brethren, the trio of them drifting into the coliseum. The spectators roared from where they watched, throngs of Drukhari, other Aeldari and various citizens of Commorragh gathered for a bloody spectacle.
Trooper 451 ignored them for now, charging up his humming plasma gun as he focused on the Talos. Already, the Kroot and the Ork were charging forward, one clicking with avian caws and the other loosing a guttural bellow of delight, and fell upon the Talos Engine. The other gladiators joined them too, but one was eviscerated, its blue blood spilling across the stone floor. A third goat-shaped xenos was impaled in the chest by the Talos's tail, braying as it attempted to hack away with curved blades. The Tzaangor fell away, its eyes lifeless.
All this while, Trooper 451 hurried forward, lining up a shot. He supercharged the plasma gun, feeling the heat build up to dangerous levels, and unleashed the fury of a sun. The stream of starstuff struck the Talos in dead center, melting its armored shell and causing it to thrash in agony. With a snarl, the Talos turned on him, slashing with its claws.
Trooper 451 hit the ground and rolled, feeling a shower of debris on his back. He rose shakily and got off another shot before the Talos seized him. His breath knocked out of him, the Krieger felt his plasma gun fall from his slack hands, but he wriggled his arms free of the abomination's grip. Feeling its claws digging through his flak vest and into his flesh, he flailed about and drew his shovel from his backpack as the Talos brought him closer to its sucking mandibles.
"For Krieg and the God-Emperor!" He yelled and stabbed the shovel down with both hands. He had chosen the spot where his plasma gun had scorched the creature's flesh, a grotesque amalgamation of burned organic tissue and molten black metal. It sank deep into the wounded skin, which had been softened by the superheated matter from earlier, and hit bone.
The Talos wailed and dropped him, thrashing wildly to dig the shovel out of its messy collarbone. Trooper 451 was dazed for a second, but he spotted his plasma gun just inches away. Scrambling for his weapon, he picked it up and aimed just when the Talos plucked out his shovel and hurled it. Without flinching as his shovel missed him by centimeters, impaling another unfortunate xenos to the wall behind, he squeezed the trigger.
The stream of plasma hit the bleeding area that he had dug open with his shovel. The Talos shrieked once more, smoke billowing from its wound, and its organic components vaporizing from the sheer heat. A few seconds later, the monstrosity toppled, its fleshy parts melted and its now hollow shell steaming.
At the side, the Kroot and Ork had finished off their opponents. There were cheers and boos from the crowd, but Trooper 451 ignored them all, instead checking on his weapon and swapping out the now empty plasma flask for a new one. The weapon felt hot to the touch, and he realized he had pushed his luck by supercharging the hazardous weapon three times in succession.
Fortunately, the Emperor protects.
Over the next course of three weeks, Trooper 451 and his companions, which he outright ignored - the Kroot, who had introduced himself as Grove, and the Ork who bragged about being Warboss Gutbusta - were thrown into the gladiatorial pits again and again. Each time, Trooper 451 survived with his trust plasma gun, the Drukhari supplying him with plasma flasks every time he was about to run out of ammunition. His shovel, though, remained as trusty as ever, a stabbing weapon that would make the Emperor proud.
He had yet to see an opportunity, but he continued to bide his time.
His patience was rewarded three weeks after his capture. After bringing down a massive, tentacled xenos that looked more like a plant than a beast, he and his companions were about to return to their cells when screams erupted from the spectator stand.
Daemons.
Ever since the fall of Biel-Tan, Commorragh had constantly been invaded by pockets of daemonic incursions here and there. Not that Trooper 451 was aware of that. The only thing that mattered to him was that it was an opportunity.
The Slavers and Drukhari gladiators - mostly consisting of Wyches and their commanding Succubi - had moved to engage the red-skinned and hooved daemons that were cutting through the spectators with flaming blades and spiky chains. The nobles, protected by elite Kabalite warriors, fired whatever exotic weapons they had while their bodyguards formed precise ranks, shouldering their splinter rifles and portable dark lances.
A bestial bellow thundered through the arena, and a titanic Bloodthirster burst through the side of the arena, cleaving through rock and concrete with its axe. Several Kabalite warriors simply ceased to exist, with nothing but a mist of blood that remained. The Archon to whom they were sworn in service to, turned to flee, but the Bloodthirster snatched him up and crushed him in its hand.
The coliseum was consumed by chaos.
"Now's our chance!" Grove chripped, twirling his bladed staff. At least Trooper 451 thought it was a staff, though he had seen the Kroot fire rounds from its barreled end like a rifle before. He hopped onto the ledges that made up the spectator seats. "Should we not use this opportunity to escape?"
"Now there's a good krumpin'!" Gutbusta cheered heartily, and instead moved in the direction of the red-skinned daemons. He was eying the Bloodthirster in particular. "I wanna that fink's teeth!"
Trooper 451 ignored the Ork Warboss and instead followed Grove. His plasma gun glowed as he unleashed volleys at Wyches and slavers that had turned to corral the gladiatorial slaves and send them back to their cells. He took particular satisfaction when he incinerated the female slaver that had been put in charge of them, striking her in the back when she lashed her envenomed whip at Grove.
"Thank you," the Kroot said, glancing at Trooper 451. He said nothing and pushed forward, scanning the area outside the gladiatorial pits for a route of escape. Even if they left the coliseum and entered the city, what then? There was nowhere in Commorragh that they could take shelter in. But Grove had come prepared and he pointed with his staff. "There, we can use their ships."
Trooper 451 spotted the Raiders that Grove was pointing toward and he nodded silently. Careful not to supercharge his plasma gun, he unleashed another volley at the Wyches that were bounding toward them. A few of them were picked off by Grove's subtler Kroot rifle while they were focusing on Trooper 451, who they had deemed to be the bigger threat. Exchanging nods, the human and the Kroot made for the Raiders.
In the midst of the chaos wrought by the incursion of Bloodletters and Bloodthirsters, the fleeing citizenry and hardpressed Kabalite Warriors paid no attention to the two racing down the streets. Commorragh was populated not only by Drukhari, but also a myriad of xenos species, including countless captured human slaves. They weren't too out of place in the streets.
Therefore, it wasn't too difficult for them to climb aboard the Raiders. While the Kabalite Warriors - those of the Black Heart - were occupied with firing at Bloodletters, Grove leaped onboard the closest one, and then extended a talon to help Trooper 451 up.
"We should keep a low profile," the Kroot said. "And when they leave the webway, we'll slip away quietly and escape to whatever world unfortunate enough to draw their predations."
Trooper 451 nooded. By the Emperor's providence, it would be an Imperial world. The Drukhari was known for raiding the planets of the Imperium and abducting countless of their citizens. From there, if he could link up with the Planetary Defense Force and arrange to be reunited with his regiment...no, even if it was impossible for them to send him back, he could organize the garrisons to pay the Drukhari back. By himself, it was fooldhardy and reckless, but with an army at his back, he was confident that he could achieve victory and crush the vicious xenos raiders.
He didn't have to wait long. A few hours later, the Kabalite warriors filled the holds of the Raider, battered and bleeding from their tussle with the daemons. Their commanding Archon marched up, spitting venomously.
"Leave these...lowly creatures to the fool Vect to take care of. We'll depart immediately. Hopefully, those foul beasts were be gone by the time we return."
"Right away, my lord." The Kabalite warrior who served as the pilot saluted and took the helm. Silently and smoothly, the Raider sailed toward the passages of the webway, the head of a dark, shadowy armada.
The Drukarhi hit the planet of Tetsu hard, eager to spirit away the citizens. They almost did not account for the local regiment to field a Baneblade, which absorbed volleys from several Ravagers before its adamantium hull was cored open by the exotic dark lances. Meanwhile, Trooper 451 managed to disembark from the Ravager after burying his shovel in the back of a Kabalite warrior and erasing another with his plasma gun. Beside him, Grove stealthily cut apart an unsupsecting Kabalite warrior and sniped the other before she realized her companion was dead. The two of them snuck to the edge of the razor-shaped ship, which was hovering no more than ten meters from the ground to disgorge its complement of Wracks. Dropping to the ground, he fired his plasma gun once more at the Wracks that had dropped into the midst of Imperial Guardsmen that had arrived to engage the Raider, saving them from a rout.
"W...what? You...?" The planetary defense force sergeant stared at the approaching guardsman in bafflement. He wasted no time in coming to a stop and saluting.
"Trooper 451-6711-2900 of the 422nd Krieg Siege Brigade," he said, his voice ringing hollowly from beneath his rebreather. "If possible, I would like to see your commander. I have experience in fighting against the Drukhari...and if you will permit me, I can assist in formulating a strategy to drive these raiders back."
While he spoke, he realized that Grove was missing. No matter. The Kroot must have slipped away into the shadows, hiding from both Imperials and Drukhari alike. The next time they met, they would be enemies, and Trooper 451 felt no reservations in slaying a companion he had fought beside for the last couple of weeks, even if he had aided him in his escape.
For the men of Krieg existed solely to serve the Emperor. And right now, he had a war to win.
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