Chapter Text
Pain.
That was all scout trooper Feliks could feel as he trudged through the ashen forest of Pluto-289. He did not know how long he had been walking through this forest filled with bare blackened trees. All he wanted was to escape from the mutants and return to his main camp for immediate medical aid. Feliks turned to his right shoulder, his eyes looking at the exposed flesh through the visor of his black full-face gas mask. A few minutes ago, an autogun shot had grazed his red hazard coat and had left his right shoulder exposed. The sudden intense burning sensation around the exposed area made him drop his lasgun and forced the unarmed scout trooper to flee from his attackers. The immediate red patch previously around his right shoulder was now replaced with pus-filled blisters and open wounds. Feliks almost gagged at the gruesome sight.
“Must...get…to…camp,” he mumbled as he continued to walk through the dead forest; his spirit still hopeful.
It did not take long before Feliks collapsed onto the ash-filled ground; his body in excruciating pain. His right shoulder’s condition had worsened and the scout trooper caught a glimpse of a small piece of his clavicle jutting out from what remained of his shoulder. Feliks grunted as he slowly crawled to the base of the closest blackened tree. With his dead right arm, he struggled to prop himself against the charred tree trunk; his chest rising and falling rapidly. Through his gas mask’s visor, he saw three shadowy figures approaching him. All three figures had iron mining helmets over their red lens-fitted black gas masks; wearing long grey overcoats over black makeshift body armour and dark green trousers. Crude gauntlets made of an unknown alloy covered their hands and their forearms while their metal shoulder armours depicted a crude white spray-painted symbol of a broken chain. They were armed with autorifles with each mutant soldier holding different types.
They’ve got me, Feliks thought as his vision slowly became blurred, The damned mutants finally got me. He already knew that this was the outcome when he first joined as a guardsman although he was not expecting his death to be so soon. There were still things that he wanted to do. To rise up the social class on this planet. To move from the Underhive to the spires of the Hive City. To be known and respected. Feliks felt a pain in his chest as he breathed. He could only watch as one of the mutant soldiers stood in front of him, raising its autorifle at his head.
Perhaps this is the fate the Emperor of Mankind has given me, Feliks thought as he closed his eyes.
Suddenly, there was a loud crackling sound. Feliks quickly opened his eyes to see the mutant soldier in front of him immediately slumped to the ground; dropping its autorifle. Dark black blood oozed from the cauterized gaping wound on its chest. The other two mutants immediately raised their weapons, frantically looking around until they found the perpetrator standing a few meters away from them. The shooter was wearing a bluish-grey greatcoat with shoulder plates and was carrying a backpack. Under the plasteel helmet was a red-eyed white respirator mask connected to a device strapped to its chest by a long black hose. An idle chainsword hung from its leather belt lined with several pouches. The shooter held a bayonetted lasrifle with a unique patten in its gloved hands; its barrel hot from releasing a laserbolt just a few seconds ago. The two mutant soldiers immediately let out a volley of shots at the shooter, yelling out in a mix of rage and slight fear. The mysterious shooter moved swiftly, avoiding bullets while his lasrifle remained locked on one of the mutants. The targeted mutant immediately fell to the ground as a lasbolt pierced through its head. The last remaining mutant yelled out in anger, dropping its empty autorifle as it charged towards the shooter. Before it could reach its holstered autopistol, the mutant fell forward to the ground as a lasbolt pierced its right upper thigh. It lay on the ground screaming in pain only to be silenced immediately as the mysterious shooter thrusted its bayonetted lasrifle into its chest. Feliks watched with blurred vision as the mysterious shooter pulled out the bayoneted lasrifle from the dead mutant’s chest before walking towards him.
“Who…?” Feliks uttered weakly as he tried to get to his feet only for him cry in pain before falling back on to tree trunk.
The mysterious shooter stood still as Feliks readjusted himself. It then knelt in front of Feliks; its red lenses staring at the scout trooper’s eyes through the visor. Its helmet showed the insignia of a two-headed eagle.
“Identify yourself,” the masked Imperial guardsman spoke; his deep gravelly voice muffled by the respirator mask.
“Scout trooper Feliks of the 86th Light Infantry regiment.” he answered weakly, recognizing the helmet’s insignia, “Are you here to rescue me?”
The white-masked guardsman did not answer.
“Where is your weapon, scout?”
“Dropped it when my squad was ambushed by those mutants. One of them managed to fire a shot that ripped through my uniform.”
“These were them?” the guardsman asked, motioning to the dead body of the mutant near the scout trooper.
“Yes,” Feliks replied, “They’ve been following me ever since.”
“Did any of your squad members survive?”
“I don’t know. I just ran.”
“You ran?” the white-masked guardsman with a slight change in his tone, “Without picking up your weapon? Without checking with a senior officer?”
“I had no choice,” Feliks explained, “My hazard coat was compromised. The radiation would have killed me if I had stayed longer.”
“Please!” he begged, “I need medical aid. I need to get to my camp.”
The white-masked guardsman remained silent as he rose to his feet.
“Where is your camp?” he asked. His tone was strangely cold.
“It’s located in the outskirts of Hive Harotune,” Feliks answered, not noticing the change in the guardsman’s tone, “I will show you the way if you take me there.”
The white-masked guardsman stood still for a moment; staring at the downed scout trooper. Slowly, his gloved left hand reached for his lasrifle.
“What are you doing?!” Feliks asked frantically as he saw the guardsman arming himself.
“You lost your weapon and abandoned your squad without the approval of your superior officer,” the white-masked guardsman hissed as he pointed the barrel of the laser weapon at the scout trooper’s gas mask visor, “These are heinous crimes. The punishment is death.”
Feliks froze as he heard the humming sound from the guardsman’s lasrifle; its bayonet pointed directly at him.
“Have mercy.”
“The Emperor has no mercy for cowards and deserters.” the white-masked guardsman said coldly as he pulled the trigger.