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Chapter Text

The valkyrie jostled, as it entered the atmosphere. Over the vox, a chant can be heard, sung, extorting the guardsmen to fight, and for the protection of the Emperor. 

Notably however, it was not sung in Low Gothic, nor High Gothic, but rather in the Kūpean language. 

Guardsman Erepu Pikari of the 228th Kūpe Voyagers fiddled with his lasgun. His kit was like many in the Imperial guard, his helmet, flak armor and lasgun built in the Cadian pattern, albeit in an ocean blue color, which contrasted over his tan uniform. 

His rebreather was on his face, through which recycled air was breathed, and goggles shoved up over his helmet, allowing the world to see his brown skin tone, and white and black ink tattoos that covered his face, his helmet hiding both ear piercings and slightly longer black hair. 

Around him, fellow Kūpeans waited in their uniforms, wearing rebreathers on their faces. Many of them waited silently with their lasguns, except for Hina Paikuli, who was checking over her meltagun, as she was one of the platoon's meltagunners. 

The only exception was a man wearing the uniform of an Imperial Commissar. Like many in the guard, he was not from Kūpe, as it would be seen as a conflict of interest. To the best of Erepu’s knowledge, the man, Jax Ulric was from some hive world somewhere, presumably it was a colony world. 

Jax listened over an ear-bead, before nodding, and turning to the guardsmen.

“Attention guardsman. I will explain our task again.” All eyes were now fixed on the commissar. 

“We have been told that we are to insert into this Hive. It is unique as the Hives on this planet must move constantly, and so are moving. We also know that there is a blight on this world. The medicaes and the enginseers have reported that it is not of Nurgle, and that it is a slow acting death, that can be slowed down. As such, for precaution, you will use your rebreathers.” Jax gestures to his own rebreather, hanging from his neck. 

“Our mission is to establish a foothold. We will do this alongside the 30th Efsigan Rangers. You have been chosen because of your skills with amphibious warfare, and more importantly, your ability to create beachheads. The Efsigans have been chosen due to their expertise in urban warfare. Once we land, join up with them. We will need to work together to get through it. Let their flamers help. Questions?”

One of the guardsmen, Kewika raises his hand. Jax points to him. 

“Sir, rules of engagement?” Jax rubs his neck, before continuing, a stern look still in his eyes. 

“We are facing cultists of the archenemy, but they are not alone. This world is largely dominated by abhumans, but there are power struggles here, especially because of the blight. There will be two factions. One is an ally, and can be identified by their blue armbands, while the other should be treated as foes, and can be identified by orange redbands. Civilians are also abhuman, and may be infected. Infected however are not inherently hostile, and should thus be ignored. There may also be others that might be dropped in, so give a challenge. We will be updated on these challenge calls. Watch fire on this drop.” Nods were seen across the cargo area. Jax checks his data slat, before nodding. 

“If no other questions exist, we are about to land. Let fury be thy shield, and wrath thy weapon, FIX BAYONETS!” 

As one, each Kūpean smoothly removed their bayonet from their scabbard, affixing it to their lasgun. Jax in turn, places his rebreather onto his face, before drawing his tools of the trade; a bolter pistol, and a powersword.

They felt a rumble as the valkyrie landed, and the door opened. Jax presses a button on his sword, and the sword begins to hum as energy courses through it. As the door lands, Jax screams. 

“FORWARD FOR THE BENEFICIENT EMPEROR, FORWARD!” 

With a cry, the Kūpe Voyagers surged forward, bayonets leveled, and as they flood out of the valkyrie, Erepu can’t help but look around, to see many other valkyries landing, disgorging themselves of Kūpe voyagers, and Efsigan rangers, wearing their tan Cadian pattern flak armor, with a distinct turtle-shell like helmet and green glengarry caps, with feathers tucked into the bands of several of them. 

And with that, the battle for the mobile city of Chernobog began.

Chapter Text

5 Terran month before the start of the Battle for Chernobog

The trodding of boots can be heard. 

Isaac knows this. Surrounding him, a grey line of men march in time, advancing into a citadel. 

Isaac can’t remember the name of this world. 

He couldn’t be bothered actually. 

All he knows is that his unit was one among many of Imperial guard regiments sent to this backwater, to root out a cult. Or rather multiple cults, dedicated to Khorne or to Nurgle. They have pushed them back here, and this was the last stronghold, and that he was part of the vanguard.

The trudding of feet occurred, as around him, the men of the 33rd Gehenna Foot Cavalry marched onwards.

Isaac thought it to be a fine regiment, a line regiment, much like the more famed Praetorian Guards or the Mordian Iron Guard, albeit they were had the distinct habit of being very good at maneuvering, marching and deploying across the battlefield with haste, almost as if they were rough riders instead of line infantry. 

That said, Isaac must confess that the las-lock on his shoulder was starting to become uncomfortable. (not that he would say that outloud, not with the commissar behind his section)

As they were advancing up to the citadel, he wondered a simple question….

‘Which karking idiot decided to use a line infantry regiment to assault a chaos citadel?’

…

“Which karking idiot decided to use a line infantry regiment to assault a chaos citadel?” Dozens of brigade commanders stared at the woman who said that. 

Silvenya Mallow was like many commanders in the Astra Militarium, especially those of the Cadians. She came from noble stock, and was recommended for officer training, an area which she excelled in, allowing her to rise the ranks. She would be considered beautiful, especially with her violet eyes that were distinct among Cadians, if not for the massive scar that ran across her face, courtesy of an aeldari blade. 

Not that she objected to the scar. As far as she was concerned, it helped dispel any illusions that she got her position through other means than being competent and loyal. (still hurts like bitch though)

As one, every single officer in the room pointed to one of the commanders in the room, a man who also appeared to be of noble background, and based on his grey uniform and kepi, appeared to be one of the Gehennans. 

He actually looked smug, as he responded “I did. My boys will clear them out, like you would never believe.” 

“Ah, general Braggs,” began Silvenya. “What gives you such confidence?” 

Braggs kept his smug face. “Simple, the Jocheon Pearl Dragons have been bombarding them for a week, and the Soproni huszars said they scouted the area. Surely they would relay intelligence of any shifts.” Silvenya turned to the commanders of Jocheon Pearl Dargon regiments and the Soproni Huszar regiments, as though to ask ‘is he speaking truth’.

Cha Bae was dressed like many of the Jocheons, which is to say in blue and white robes, that were held down in place by a flak chestplate. Atop his head was a gat, a semi-translucent black hat that sported a broad brim. He looked out of place, especially with his jewelry, a ring on his hand, and earrings and necklaces adoring his head. Silvenya knew better, as the Jocheons, despite their effeminate look, were in fact superb artillerymen, rivalled only by Kriegers and Vallhallans.

Istvan Kovacs meanwhile wore a dark blue uniform, with a red shako atop his head, and with a coat hanging from his shoulder, with one of the sleeves being worn, and the other hanging. This contrasted with the enlisted of the regiment, who wore a lighter blue-grey, and wore side caps instead of shakos. He wore black riding boots and a cavalry sabre, ironic as although the Soproni were rough riders, they used sentinels instead of horses or motorcycles.

Cha Bae nodded, but halfheartedly, while Istvan Kovacs gave an awkward grin. 

“Yes, but not to our liking.” The smug look on Braggs face disappeared sharply. 

“Elaborate.”

“Well, we tried to, but before we were able to do much, we were waved off by another commander. Said that they were checked out earlier and that the area of the barrage would not be efficient.” At this point, one of the other brigade commanders intervened. 

“Wait, how did you get this?” The eyes turned to one of the aides of a commander. He had on the uniform of a Roane Deeper, and more specifically, he wore the badges that distinguished him as a communication’s officer. 

Cha and Istvan shared a look, before turning and saying “Vox, why?” 

The comms officer took a deep breath, while the commander announced, “We just found out that our vox lines have been compromised. The enemy got our freqs, but we don’t know how yet. We have suspicions that a unit had defected.”

The faces of many of the officers paled, before Braggs screams to one of the other communication officers within the building. 

“QUICK, CALL OFF THE ATTACK, NOW!” A vox operator, wearing the red fatigues, tan flak vest and blue turban of the Kohima Lions rushes to his vox, putting it up to his ear, before pulling it away.

“NO USE SIR! THE LINE IS SCRAMBLED TO THE GEHENNANS!” Immediately the rooms descended into chaos as officers began trying to figure out a way to resolve this issue.

Silvenya turned around as well. “Braggs, do your units have sanctioned psykers? Someone we can pass a message along through a psyker?” 

“No,” said Bragg as panic was setting in. “We don’t have witches in our units.” Silvenya grimaces. 

“Damn it all. The one time we need a witch, and we don’t have one.” Kovacs turned to one of the vox operators. 

“Get me the 10th Soproni Huszars. Get them to send a squad to intercept the Gehennans, and tell as many of them to back away from the citadel. We have suspicions it might be a trap.” 

As the vox operator began repeating the orders, Bragg simply muttered repeatedly “The Emperor protects, the Emperor protects.”

…

Sandor pressed his sentinel to go forward. He quickly sees his target. 

A line of Gehennans marching forward. The sentinel’s long legs extend far, and soon, he is able to move past it, and he stops it in front of the line. 

The line of Gehennans stops. Two of them, an officer and a commissar, step forward. 

“Salutations, why are you here trooper,” bellowed the officer. 

Sandor opens the cockpit of the armored sentinel, allowing him to converse with them. 

“New orders from command. New info from the Roane Deepers suggests that the info about both our scouting and the artillery barrage were falsified.” The commissar steps forward.

“Falsified how?” Sandor saw the commissar reach for his bolt pistol, and knew that depending on how he phrased it, could mean the difference between saving these men or getting shot for it. But saving came first.

“We both began, but reports came in that we didn’t have to scout as much nor to shell as much. We have only just found out that the enemy has compromised our vox lines, and so we were fed false reports, leading to less thorough scouting and less thorough shelling.” Around the line, murmurs came up, which were quickly shouted down by both NCOs and junior commissars.

The commissar and the officer stared at each other, before turning back.

“So what of it?”

“Orders from both Braggs, and Mallow; the attack is off until we can ascertain that this isn’t a trap.” 

“Evidence?” Sandor merely tossed a parchment down towards the two of them, a parchment the officer caught. Quickly, the pair open it before the commissar looks back up.

“Thank you trooper, but you might be late.” Sandor blinked.

“Late, late how?”

“The 33rd are already in the citadel.” Sandor’s face paled.

…

Isaac advanced through the citadel, alongside his squad. 

The full regiment became unwieldy in the cramped spaces of the citadel, its paths winding and convoluted. 

So it was decided to split the men up into companies, with each company being further split into their respective platoons and squads, with each squad to be directed by a sergeant and containing a vox caster. Sure it meant less firepower, but in exchange, they can actually move, and sweep the area. 

Surprisingly however, there was nobody. 

Not a soul, aside from the small group of Gehennans that Isaac was with. The vox caster next to Isaac, Trey, heard voices from his vox pack. 

“All sections, this is Richmond, any contact?” Each platoon was named for a hive on Gehenna, and the squads named after the towns and counties surrounding said hive. Soon, a cacophony of voices came in as each section reported in.

“Richmond this is Rappahannock, no contact.”

“Richmond, this is Chesapeake, no contact.”

“Richmond, this is Roanoke, I’ve got karking nothing.”

“Richmond,” began Trey. “This is Toano. We’ve made no contact. This place is almost abandoned.” Isaac shuddered. 

“Copy that, The other platoons are reporting the same thing. The place gives me the shivers.” Trey gives a sardonic laugh.

“Roger that, the emperor protects.” He hangs up the vox handset, before looking around. Isaac also looks around, as does the rest of the squad. Finally, one of the guardsmen, Eddard points. 

“Sah, think I found something there.” As one, each of them aims their las-locks towards where Eddard pointed. The sergeant, a tallish man that went by McLean nodded, pointing his laspistol and chainsword towards it. 

“I need one of y’all to examine it. Any volunteers.” Eddard raised his hand tentatively, and soon, he began inching his way towards where he was pointing. 

It was a door, slightly ajar that led into a building, presumably a clothing store. Eddard pauses, in front of it, before gesturing towards the other, and soon, everyone falls in, preparing to breach the door. Eddard counts down on his finger, and once it forms a fist, he kicks the door in, and the rest follows him inside. 

The room was somewhat empty of content, but not empty in horror. The wall was coated in a mixture of crimson blood and green bile, with ooze crawling forth from every crack and crevice one can find. But that wasn’t the real horror. 

The real horror was the three circles separated by an arrow carved into every wall, with spells and incantations written in dark tongue all across the place. 

The Mark of Nurgle.

And the effects were immediate. 

Isaac felt his stomach churn, and he felt as though his body would combust at any second. Isaac felt liquids dripping from every orifice, and Isaac wasn’t sure what liquid it was, only that it was vile. He looked around and he saw the rest of the squad weren’t much better. He saw Eddard start screaming, ranting about some sort of buzzing he heard, a buzzing that Isaac soon began to hear.

Trey vomited, a yellow spew mixed with blood and maggots. He quickly collapsed.

McLean began screaming, chanting “The Emperor protects, the Emperor protects.” 

Isaac scrambled, picking up the vox handset, and screamed into it. 

“ALL UNITS, WE’VE FOUND CONTAMINATION FROM THE UNCLEAN ONE! THIS IS A TRAP! THIS IS A KARKING TRAP!” 

It was a warning that would be both heard, but unheard, as a green light envelops them all, and then silence.

…

Sandor, the commissar, and the officer all turned, as the citadel in front of them blew up, in a green explosion, green toxic fire consuming the citadel.

Sandor resisted the urge to cry, merely muttering “too late. We were far too farking late.”

The commissar, for his part, made the sign of the Imperial Aquila. 

“May the emperor have mercy on their souls.”

Chapter Text

Silvenya walked down the hallway of the voidship, trailed by a staff officer.

The citadel assault had gone… poorly. 

It was indeed a trap. Heretic forces had already abandoned the citadel, and gave false information. This lured in the Gehenna Foot Cavalry. They were able to warn most of the Gehennans, except for the 33rd, who ceased to exist. Not as bad as was expected, but a regiment lost in its entirety is still worth noting. Braggs losing his rank might be the best case scenario. Silvenya sighed.

This of course led to now, as the entire command of all the brigades of this small section of the Imperial naval and guard assets were called in, as a rogue merchant ship flew in, and they hailed for a meeting.

A rogue trader by itself wasn’t an issue, though Silvenya found that many of them were annoying. 

The issue was that the trader had in their transport, a pair of Inquistors, one from the Ordo Hereticus, and another from the Ordo Xenos. And you don’t tend to refuse the Inquisition, not if you wish to live long. 

So here Silvenya was, walking along with an aide, and they soon stepped into a large hall, one that befitted that of a Rogue trader. Relics and taxidermied xenos lifeforms covered the walls. She glances, and then sees a mark of the Emperor. It is a large scroll, the size of one of the walls itself, upon which red ink inscribes a long passage, using the most flowery of language.

This is an important thing for a Rogue trader, as this mark allows them to conduct as they see fit within the galaxy, to explore, to colonize and settle, to trade, and to initiate conquest of any planet they come across.

Around her, officers from all over the Imperium stood or sat, dressed in their uniforms of the various regiments.

Cadians, Kriegers, Armageddon, Roane, Tallarn, Volpenes, Soproni, Jocheon, Menelik, Fezen, Van Diemen, Kūpe, Efsigan, Satsuma, Kohima, Zaporozhian, Gehennan, Vallhallan; all of them, united as one. The uniforms clashed as well, the greens of Cadians, the greys of Kriegers, Mustard yellow for Armageddon, to the Reds of Kohima and the Black of the Satsuma.

Accompanying them all were blue uniforms of the Imperial navy, alongside red robes, of both the Ecclesiarchy and of the Cult Mechanicus., albeit with those of the Mechanicus having various augmentations sticking out as well. 

Silvenya notices that in the corner of the room were a trio of people, one male, two female. They all were dressed in a fanciful fashion, but Silvenya’s eyes were drawn to the massive I’s hanging from the necks of two of them, the male and one of the female. She also notices the stub revolver on the hips of the male, and a longsword on the hips of the female. She notices the tubes that connect to implants on the neck area of the female. 

‘Probably a psyker than.’

At that point, the male inquisitor looked around, then nodded, before walking up to the front. The chats occurring died down, and the man was quickly joined by the female inquisitor.

“Evening everyone,” began the man, his voice somewhat smooth to the ear, and could make women swoon, not that any women in the hall did. The fact that he was an inquisitor made sure of that, as well as professionalism. “My name is Jon Krennick, inquisitor of the Ordo Hereticus. Next to me is my colleague, inquisitor Caetyln Cassian, of the Ordo Xenos. Further back there,” he said, pointing back to the other finely dressed woman, “Is the rogue trader Terrisa of house Starker.” They all observed as the trader, dressed in fine clothing and appearing to be at the very least in her 50s or 60s, nodded back.

“Of course, this ship is hers, the Fellstar.” All eyes were back on Jon, as he began pacing. 

“We have received words about the events on this planet. According to some of our agents, the chaos cults have departed.” Silvenya’s eyes narrowed.

‘Departed, not destroyed?’ 

“However, as many of you might have picked up, they left, not defeated. Psykers that were part of our retinue have detected chaos warp energy, akin to how a warp portal works.” Whispers began erupting from among the officers around the place. Silvenya felt a presence next to her, and turning her head, found that next to her stood a Kriege officer, dressed much in the way of the Death Riders.

Caetyln stepped forward, clearing her throat.

“Not all is lost,” she said, commanding respect, as the conversations died down. “One of my strike teams has been able to track them. They have transmitted back both the fact that they are joining a larger warband, made up of many cults and traitor guard regiments dedicated to Khorne and Nurgle. Furthermore, my psyker has been able to provide the location to the navigators here.” She gestured to the rogue trader who stepped forward. 

“The astropaths have made it clear; they have exited the galaxy. But it is still reachable via warp travel.” At that point Jon gestured as well, drawing attention to him. 

“As it currently stands, we have requisitioned your segment of forces from the Lord Commander. We are to lead an expedition to this unknown realm. I will not lie, danger and peril may face us, but to do so is the Emperor’s will. Furthermore,” Jon looked around. “We have also been given permission to add additional forces to this force, enough so that we would need a new commander, one we can work with.” 

Silvenya felt suddenly very shy as every eye in the room turned to her. Nonetheless, she knew what she must do. 

…

Terrisa stood watch on the bridge of her ship, the Fellstar. Around her, the buzzing of activity occurred. Various voidsmen ran about the place, making sure that everything was in place, and that every device was working as expected. Servitors meanwhile ensured that the ship would function. Behind her, the helmsman and the astropath navigator were waiting for commands, as the pysker began chanting, beginning the calculations for a warp jump. Around her ship were multiple other ships. 

In total, this war armada was, by all accounts, rather small. When her ship with accompanying inquisitors arrived, there were 5 Imperial naval vessels in orbit, and 3 of them were troop transports.

Now, an additional 4 ships were added, with 3 of them being troop transports. 

Their arrival was accompanied with the addition of more regiments. 

Cadian Shock troops, Death Korps of Krieg, Vallhallan Ice Warriors, Armageddon Steel Legions, but shockingly, more of them came from colony worlds.

Van Diemen Rats, and Van Diemen Devils, Efsiga Rangers, Satsuma Shield-breachers, Zaporozhian Long-lasmen, and Emperor’s Own Cambrians.

In total, 9 ships were to depart.

Slowly, massive metal blinders began covering all the windows. Once they were closed, a voidsmen ran up to Terrisa. 

“Ma’am, engine rooms have reported in, we’re ready.” Terrisa nodded, before turning towards her seneschal. Who in turn nods to one of the vox operators on the bridge.

The man leans forward, before pressing the button to speak over shipwide vox. 

“Beginning warp translation. The Emperor protects.” 

As one, 9 voidships slipped away from real space, into the warp, and began their travels to another galaxy.

They would not be the only ones…

Chapter Text

Discity, somewhere in the Syndicate

The pair of jeeps rumbles, speeding through the street. In the driver seat of one of them, was Che, driving like a madman.

A skilled madman.

But a madman nonetheless. (the cackling did not help)

The other passengers were not pleased by this driving.

EMP was screaming like crazy, fearing that something would go wrong (they tend to, and she will usually be the one to suffer).

Hecate was in complete zen, which sounds like a good thing until one were to crack open her mind, whereupon you will see her channel her inner Hella, and was cussing up a storm.

Finally, Thistle was repeating a simple phrase. It was a one-word-long phrase, and Che made it a point to ignore that phrase; “Brake”. Her mind meanwhile was chanting another one-word-long phrase. It rhymed with ‘duck’ if it helps.

Meanwhile the jeep behind it was driving more reasonably, still fast moving, but not in a way that results in three different people panicking.

The chief shook her head, observing the chaos in the other car. They had left the radio on, so she and Nightingale back in Minos Bureau of Crisis Control, as well as the poor FAC comms officer who was tasked by the 9th Agency to overhear all communication messages. Chief then picked up her radio handset, Demon keeping a steady control over the car’s motion, while behind the chief, Cinnabar and Jane looking over their gear, preparing for whatever they might come across.

“Okay, Nightingale. Tell us again, what exactly are we looking for?” The voice of Nightingale comes over the radio.

“Some scanners from both the 9th Agency and the FAC have picked up strong energy fluctuation from within the Syndicate.”

“Yes,” began the chief. “I know about that, I read the same report. But what do they mean by ‘energy’. Is it mania related?”

“To the best of their knowledge, no. It’s almost something else entirely. That’s why they gave the more vague term of ‘energy’ instead of something more specific. Can’t help you there. On the bright side, you are getting close, and I was able to get some connections run through. We have three Syndicates ready to assist in guiding you.” Chief nodded.

“Understood. Anyway to identify them?”

“You’ll know when you see them.”

“What do you mean by tha–”

“Hey,” began Cinnabar, “isn’t that Hella, Ninety-Nine and Zoya?” The jeep slammed into a halt as Demon slammed the brakes. Jane and the chief were both thrown forward, with Jane getting the added insult of being slammed into Chief’s chair. She reels back rubbing her nose, which Cinnabar began to fuss over.

Chief’s head snapped around, and sure enough, there was Zoya, Ninety-nine and Hella, standing there, waving at them, with Zoya wearing a bad disguise which just consisted of a long trench coat and a pair of fake glasses complete with fake nose and mustache. Hella was carrying a boba tea alongside her pipe, and Ninety-nine was consuming ravenous amounts of shawarmas, with a small container containing Chinese-style dumplings by her leg, next to her big sword.

Chief jumped out of the car, prompting only a small “wait” from Cinnabar, as she runs up to the trio, and quickly embraces Hella in a massive hug, the way a mom might embrace her child, which actually come to think of it, for many of the staff and sinners at the MBCC is a really good way to describe chief Emily Jones and her relationship with Hella. 

…

It didn’t take long for everyone to catch up (which mainly consisted of Emily fussing over Hella like a mom, Hella arguing with Zoya like an amicably divorced couple, Hecate and Hella to banter, and for Hella to straight up insult EMP), and for the situation to be explained. Nightingale still had Hella’s phone number, and was able to get to her and Ninety-nine that way, with Zoya ending up along for the ride. At least according to Ninety-nine, in between bites of the huge amount of food, while ignoring EMP who would steal the occasional churro because apparently Ninety-nine had those with her too. (Chief never knew where she stored the food. She never asked either, and to be quite frankly honest, all things considered, that was the least of her concerns in regards to Ninety-nine.)

Mind you, Zoya was down to go along with the ride anyway, as this ‘energy fluctuation’ could potentially impact the Syndicate, so might as well nip it in the bud if it was a bad thing.

So flash forward to now, with the group advancing upon the spot.

“Just the other side of this small wall,” said Zoya, gesturing to the inside of a long abandoned warehouse. “One of the Legion loyalists was able to point it out, and it has begun to be discreetly spread throughout the Syndicate to avoid the place.” Emily nodded, noting how the place looked still abandoned, but not looted.

‘Still goes to show how much respect that Zoya has, even if the Legion no longer exists’.

Nonetheless, they all entered the warehouse. 

It was empty, with most of the shipping containers being empty, the occasional canvas tarp that hadn't been looted and a massive swirling portal that was standing in the open air in the middle. 

‘Wait, what was that last one?’

Sure enough, there it was, the source of the energy fluctuation; a massive portal roughly the size of the average pick up truck, just hovering in the middle of an abandoned warehouse. 

It unnerved Emily, and as she looked around, everyone was a little unnerved as well. Even normally those that are normally calm or stoic were a little disturbed, as Zoya’s eyes were firmly focused on it, with her jaw slightly dropped. 

It was shockingly EMP who said something first. 

“Shouldn’t we call this in? Figure out if this is safe?” Emily grabbed her radio and spoke into it. 

“Nightingale, we found the fluctuation. It’s a portal.”

“What?” Nightingale’s voice fell over the group, in a distinctly deadpan voice. 

“We found a portal.”

“I heard that part chief. I mean what do you mean a ‘portal’?”

“Like in those old sci-fi films that Deren makes. You know, a giant rift in reality.”

“I know what a portal is. What do you mean there is a portal!?!”

Silence fell over the area, as did the sinister feeling of the portal. 

“Hecate, take a picture of it and send it.”

“Yes chief.” The snap of a phone’s camera was heard, as was the ping of a text being sent. Over the radio, the sound of a ping of a phone was heard. A sigh followed. 

“So it literally is a portal. Or at the very least a rip in reality. Can we confirm that it is a portal?”

Before Emily could say anything, Hella beat her to anything. 

“Demon, toss EMP in.” 

“Wait wha–” Before anyone can interfere, Demon swung his arm, grabbing EMP and hefting her up, much akin to how one might carry a track javelin, before tossing her through the portal, in a way that reminded Emily and Jane a little too much like how one might toss a lawn dart. 

She blips into the portal, with a sound that sounded suspiciously like a drip of water into a filled bath tub. 

Silence fell over the area again, with breaths held. 

This was then followed by EMP walking out of the portal. 

“Hey, I can in fact confirm that this is a portal, cause the other side was a barren wasteland.” Nightingale sighed over the radio as everyone let out a sigh of relief. 

“Great, now how the hell do I put that into a report?”

…

Scott Outpost, between the city of New Eridu and Hollow Zero

The tapping of keyboards and the beeps of monitors could be heard throughout the tent. Around the place, personnel from four different organizations could be found.

Scientists and researchers from the White Star institute, the Hollow Affairs and Neutralization Department (H.A.N.D.), the Hollow Investigative Association (H.I.A.) examined recordings from beacons and survey results, trying to comprehend the info that came from the Hollow, and how it might benefit New Eridu, either for new technology, or for ways to combat the Hollows.

Meanwhile, the New Eridu Defense Force meanwhile was there less for research and more for combatting the Hollow, and providing security to the others. Granted HANDs also has armed personnel for Hollow exploration, but that wasn’t going to stop the military.

Ray Yersin looked over some of the recent data readings that were gained from the Hollow. The sound of a throat being cleared was heard. She glances up, and sees her N.E.D.F. and H.A.N.D. counterparts, Roland and Ophelia respectively. Roland hands her a tablet, with readings. Ray takes it, nodding a ‘thanks’.

“Some of my lads saw these recordings. Energy fluctuations within the Hollow, but not that of Ether.” Ray skimmed over it, then her eyes narrowed, her third robotic arm keeping her glasses where she wanted them, on her face. 

Sure enough, the readings confirmed what Roland was saying.

“Interesting.” Ray looked back up to Roland and Ophelia. 

“This will need investigation. Get a section from H.A.N.D. and a squad from the Obsidian Division. I have a freelancer to contact.”

…

In the following three hours, the investigation team was made.

H.A.N.D. decided to send the best, Hollow Special Operations Section Six, Miyabi walking gracefully (albeit with her mind somewhere in the distance, far beyond the understanding of most sane people), trailed by Yanagi, Harumasa, and Soukaku (who in turn was munching on a small sandwich).

Not to be outdone, the N.E.D.F. sent Obol squad, with Soldier 11 walking forward with confidence, Trigger walking with a quiet confidence, Seed rolling onwards with gusto on her scooter, and Orphie following behind (albeit with significantly less confidence). Magus hovered, attached to Orphie by her tail. 

Ray decided to just call in Wise, and call it a day. Wise naturally came, bringing along Eous, because he still needed to be outside the Hollow.

After a brief rundown of the situation, they all entered the Hollow, and Wise was able to identify the location based on the readings. 

Which leads us to now, with this group of 9 idiots staring at a massive rip in reality. 

Wise looked it over, before drawing both the attention of Ray and Roland outside the Hollow and those within the Hollow. 

“Well, to put it bluntly,” he said, the voice coming over via recording in Eous to those within the Hollow, “this is not a normal rift. Honestly, a better comparison might be to compare it to something from a Sci-fi film.”

Soldier 11 nodded, while Yanagi stared at it. The others continued to observe it.

Except for Soukaku.

“Oh, what if it is a portal to an alternate dimension?” Harumasa gives a small chuckle.

“I doubt it, but it does look like it is.”

The sound of a scooter’s motor was heard, and eyes and heads were snapped towards the source. 

Seed simply went towards the portal, humming some sort of song. At this point, Wise suddenly remembered that although Soukaku may be a child at times, Seed in turn has no impulse control, and acted accordingly. Before anyone could even react, she entered the rift.

She then immediately exited the rift. 

“Hey, Soukaku was right, it was a portal, leading to some sort of wasteland though.” Everyone stared first at Seed, then towards Harumasa, who sighed, before turning to the rest. 

“Well, not the first time I’ve been wrong.” 

“Now,” began Trigger, “what do we do about it?” Trigger said this, while her face was fixed firmly on the portal. She could vaguely make out the outline, but was unable to note anything distinct. As though it lacked any form of ether energy.

“Well,” began Magus, her eyes focused on the portal, “we should probably let Ray and Roland know what is going on.”

“Err, right,” stuttered Orphie, who began trying to remember how to call it in.

Wise sighed. 

“Don’t worry, I can tell them.” Back with the HDD, he turned, and began texting Ray and Roland, to begin the process of informing them that there is in fact a portal within Hollow Zero that leads to an alternate dimension.

…

…

…

Wise wasn’t sure what his life was coming to now. He’s just glad that Belle wasn’t here to witness this. Astra invited her and Evelyn out for a girl’s hangout, with plans for lunch and some light shopping.

Just so long as she was clear of what he felt was the beginning of a horror film.

…

Imperial fleet, somewhere over orbit of the planet Holy Terra

The fleet left warp translation. It was… unusually smooth. No voidships were lost to the warp, no major cases of insanity (aside from one Zaporozhian officer who began singing about hedgehogs, but he was already considered an eccentric man, and thus it didn’t count), and to best of everyone’s knowledge, time wasn’t too messed around with.

All in all, great success for warp travel.

The fleet stayed in orbit, because obviously, you probably shouldn’t land massive cathedral ships on a planet. 

Mechanicus scouting occurred almost immediately, and found that there was in fact life on the planet.

These scans also immediately reported back reports of some form of contagion. 

So of course, this leads to a series of events, leading to now.

A valkyrie was exiting one of the ships, and began descending into the world below. 

Its occupants were not too pleased.

Seamus can vouch for that. He felt his bones rattle as his seat was shaken by the reentry into an atmosphere. The bright red cassock paired with a black sash he wore around the waist covered much of his body, alongside various leather straps that held a relic blade.

He wasn’t guard, not by a long shot. He was once a humble priest on the shrine moon of Messelina Gloriana in the Mobeian domain; various shenanigans have resulted in him ending up in the service of Inquisitor Krennick.

Across from the 54 year old man, was another member of Krennick’s retinue. 

He was a younger man, about 30 if Seamus had to guess. He was dressed much in the same way as many Cadian Kasrkin, wearing green carapace armor covering the entire body, with a helmet with a rebreather and goggles on the man’s head. 

Seamus watched as the former Kasrkin looked over his weapon of choice, a M35 Magnacore Mk II Plasma Gun. A powersword was stuffed into a scabbard on the man’s hip.

Standing up next to the Kasrkin was the third member of Krennick’s retinue sent on this scouting mission. It was a tall man, dressed in the black armor and grey uniform of the arbites, a cyber-mastiff sitting next to him, the dog panting as the former arbites calmly pets the hound. 

The rest of the Valkyrie's occupants were not part of the inquisition. 

It consisted of a squad of guardsmen from the 3rd Zaporozhian Long-lasmen. 9 guardsmen and one sergeant clung to the railings or sat in some of the other chairs, though the best chair was gifted to Seamus due to inquisition status, being a preacher, and his age. 

The guardsmen were dressed as those from the tundra agri-world of Zaporozhia; blue-grey uniforms, with a dark blue long coat atop, obscuring the flak chestplate worn above the uniform. The sergeant wore a papakha on his head, with the rest of the squad wearing field service caps or peaked caps. Although the regiment was named for long-lasguns, the actual common issued weapon for the Zaporozhians being Lucius Pattern No. 98 Lasgun, much like the Death Korp of Krieg.

The choice of who to send was decided by the inquisitors.

A preacher who can act as a more diplomatic force, a kasrkin to keep him safe, and a small section to present some show of force.

They all had rebreathers hanging around their neck. 

As the valkyrie continued its descent, Seamus wondered about the new world they had encountered. 

Will the heretics be here?

Will it have xenos?

Will it secretly be a lost colony?

Either way, he knew that he was entering a strange, and terrifying new world.

…

As the valkyrie descended to the surface, back up on the Fellstar, two inquisitors were sharing cups of tanna, looking over the various data slats as presented by the mechanicus’s servo skulls.

Silvenya walks into the room, nursing her own cup, this time a cup of recaf.

Caetyln notices her first, glancing up.

“Ah, General Mallow. Thank you for coming up here.” She gestured vaguely to the data slates all around. “As you can see, the servitors have been busy.” Silvenya glanced around, before nodding. 

“I’ve noticed. The scouting team has been sent. One squad of Zaporozhian Long-lasmen, and 3 of Inquisitor Krennick retinue.” Jon glanced up, before nodding.

“Aye, Seamus, Jeral and Kruber. All reliable, provided you ignore the fact that they are all their own form of insanity.” 

‘Yes, but does the retinue of an inquisitor reflect their inquisitor?’ Silvenya kept that thought to herself. Krennick sighs anyway, as though he sensed Silvenya’s criticism.

“What’s worse is that we still don’t have the one who was able to tag the heretics.” Silvenya’s eyes narrowed.

“Elaborate?”

“As you may have heard, we were able to tag the heretics due to the psyker in my retinue, one Elijah el-Muhit. Problem is that he has gone missing afterwards. He followed into the portal, but he didn’t exit with the cultists. We know where the cultists are because he was able to place a tracking servo skull onto them, but he appeared to be elsewhere.”

Silvenya noticed that the tone was concerningly casual.

“If I may lord inquisitor, you don’t sound alarmed.” Jon shrugged.

“I have no fear that he will return to me. He has the nasty habit of doing so. I like to believe it is loyalty to the inquisition and to the Emperor, but I have the suspicion that he prefers to be in my retinue to annoy my other retinue members.”

“Then brother,” began Caetyln, “why does your eye show concern?”

“The issue isn’t that he will come back. The issue is that with his foibles, and the nature of being a witch, his return will almost certainly be laced with absurdities. Chaos would mock it themselves.”

Silvenya’s eyes narrowed.

“Absurdities, how?”

…

New Eridu, Lumina Square

Evelyn walked back, while Belle and Astra Yao were walking in front of her, with Astra Yao wearing sunglasses to hide her identity. They just had a lovely lunch at the Waterfall Soup stand, and they did some light shopping. After said light shopping, they decided to head back to Random Play. As they approached the Random Play van, they passed by an alley.

As Evelyn passed the alley, she heard a noise, an unusual sounding noise. Astra and Belle also heard the noise. They all glanced towards the alley. 

Evelyn slipped out one of her garrote wires, just in case.

They watched what Evelyn can only describe as a portal opened in the alley.

‘Okay, this is alarming.’ Evelyn gestured towards Belle and Astra Yao.

“Get behind me. Something feels off.”

The portal opens, with purple and pink mist flowing out. This was immediately followed by a red ball flying out, and smacking into the wall opposite of the portal. 

The ball splayed out, revealing that it was, in fact a man, wearing red. 

A red coat, with metal pauldrons on it, a red hood pulled up, and grey pants with metal plates located on the knees accompanying boots. Evelyn observed that the man had a massive metal collar around the neck area, with pipes and tubes connecting into the hood.

Evelyn took note of the sword that was on the man's hip, connected to a belt worn over a green sash. In the man’s hands was a massive staff with a double headed eagle on the top.

The man who had faceplanted onto the wall, then began to slide down the side of the wall, a noise coming from him that sounded like how a wet object would slide down a glass door, like in a cartoon. As he did so, the portal quickly closed, as though it was never there, and didn’t want to be associated with the man. It was almost comedic.

Once the man had slid down to about the street level, he flopped onto his back, and Evelyn noted that the man was still unconscious. The front could be seen, and he notes the ‘I’ on a lot of his clothing, as well as an eagle on his chest, with white linings on his coat. Yellowish parchment attached by red wax seals could be found on him, as well as a holster for a gun.

Evelyn finally got a good look at the man’s face, which was obscured by a rag with metal stubs in it, covering his nose and mouth. His eyes were closed, again due to unconsciousness, though Evelyn can note various scars, both made by blades and by some sort of flame.

Whoever the man was, Evelyn could make a guess that the man was very familiar with a life of violence, a skill that she had developed over her long career, both as a spy and as a bodyguard. Evelyn also notes his age, and skin tones. He looked to be about the same age as herself, and the skin tone was light brown. 

Her study of the man was then interrupted by Belle and Astra. 

Astra and Belle quickly ran to the man. Belle turned to Astra.

“He’s out cold. We need to take him somewhere. Random Play.”

‘Wait what.’

“Why exactly?” Belle’s eyes focused back onto Evelyn. 

“We can’t leave him here, and based on the weapons, he would almost certainly stick out in a public hospital. Won’t be the first time we had an unconscious person in the backroom. Besides, I trust that you’ll keep us safe.”

Evelyn nodded, unconvinced as Astra and Belle stuck the hands underneath the man, as though to drag him to the car. 

“Ok,” began Astra. “On three, lift. Three.” The two lifted him, and Evelyn can see them straining to carry the man. The tack a step forward… and immediately ran into a fire hydrant. 

Rather, the man’s head ran into the fire hydrant. 

Evelyn sighed.

“Belle, pass me the keys. I’ll bring the car here. Would be less suspicious as well.”

“Er, right.” The jingle of keys being tossed was heard, followed by Evelyn catching the key.

As she walked to the parking lot, she had the distinct feeling that this man’s appearance is a sign of weird things to come.

Chapter Text

Jeral gripped his plasma gun, as he treaded forward. Trailing behind him was the rest of the exploration team.

The valkyrie landed, and they left, and quickly found themselves to be in what could be only described as rocky desert. Hills, ravines and dried up riverbeds covered the land as far as the eye can see, obscuring clear and clean views.

Hence the formation, with Jeral and Kruber walking in the front, alongside Kruber’s cyber-mastiff, 5p0T, who was constantly sniffing the ground, as hounds were prone to do, even if said hound had had several limbs surgically removed and replaced with cybernetics, had armor implanted onto its breast, and having been lobotomized (not that it will stop the mastiff from behaving like a dog).

Further in the back was the squad of Zaporozhian Long-lasmen and Seamus, who were chatting, sort of. 

Seamus would report things to one of the lasmen, Dymtro, who happened to be the squads vox-caster, who would in turn call it in to those in higher command, namely the colonel of the 3rd Zaporozhian Long-lasmen, Rostyslav Zinchenko, and one of Krennick’s explicators, Tamiel Aqiam. 

Still, Jeral wasn’t too upset about it all. 

Rebreathers stayed on for all there. Jeral was given a scanner by one of the techpriests, and with its scan, found that the atmosphere of this world was slightly dangerous, containing a high amount of… something. 

It wasn’t Chaos, which was a relief to all, but it was clear that some sort of contaminant was in the air, albeit on the molecular level. 

The techpriest had explained it to Jeral, albeit with so much technobabble that his mind yearned for a death that he had avoided, but the gist was essentially that it was a long term illness, with death not being immediate, and it functioning more like a cancer than the walking pox. (Jeral’s mind shivered at the thought of the walking pox)

Still, the rebreathers were recommended, so Jeral was breathing through it. Wasn’t too much of a headache to wear considering his life before being an inquisitorial agent, and the provost and the guardsmen were also fine with the rebreathers. 

The priest on the other hand was complaining about it messing with his beard and mustache, but he still wore it. 

Jeral had a private chuckle about that in his mind. 

His steps continued forward, and he observed a bend in the dried riverbed they were walking in.

Suddenly, 5p0T stopped, letting out a growl. 

Both Kruber and Jeral raised their hands in a fist, signalling a halt. Jeral leaned back. 

“Quiet you lot. Someone's up ahead. Enough to spook the provosts cyber-mutt. I’ll check ahead, prepare for a scrap.” Kruber nodded, bringing out his choice of weapon, a subductor shotpistol, while Seamus drew his relic blade, angling it forward. The guardsmen meanwhile slips bayonets onto their lasgun, while the tall sergeant draws both his laspistol and powersword, his thumb playing with the power button. 

Jeral approached the riverbed wall, before taking a deep breath. He holds the plasma gun in the proper stance, while avoiding the urge to put his finger on the trigger. 

With the practiced precision of house clearing techniques gained through the course of 16 years worth of conflict and combat, the Kasrkin ducks out and around the bend.

He found himself in what can best be compared to a bowl; the river walls changed into a broader crater, as though it was once a shallow watering hole, made deeper by wind erosion. Several similar winding passages, akin to what they had traveled through thus far, flowed into this spacious area, suggesting to Jeral that at one point, several streams had at one point flowed into here, creating this water hole. 

His head swings, as how an item might swivel on a pivot. His hands clutched the plasma gun, and he adjusted his left hand, the hand that was supporting the barrel. 

His head snaps as he sees another two passage ways. Both passages have an individual leaving it, with one having a pair leave. 

The first were a pair, one male and one female. The female was on the taller side, about the same height as Kruber give or take an inch, and was only slightly taller than Jeral (who was himself already a pretty tall man). Her blonde hair and yellow and black clothing was not what Jeral noticed first.

Nay, nay, it was the rifle she cradled, held in a professional stance, suggesting her to be a sniper was the first thing Jeral noticed. Second were the pitch black goggles worn on the face. 

The man alongside her was also being registered into Jeral’s mind.

He wasn’t much shorter than the woman, but was shorter than Jeral, wearing a grey long-sleeved shirt with an orange shirt underneath, paired with white trousers. The man had similarly grey hair as well. His eyes in contrast to much of his clothing, was a sharp, vibrant and verdant green.

The pair make eye contact with Jeral’s own, even if said eyes were hidden behind the goggles Jeral had over his own purple eyes.

A third set of footfalls were heard, and all three turned their attention to the fourth person. 

The fourth person was a woman (at least, Jeral thought she was a woman), with a pair of greyish-purple eyes. Her clothing was mostly shade of black and grey, punctuated with bright yellow lining. Her hand was connected to a metal triangle that Jeral could recognize as a shield, or at the very least a buckler. Yellow reflective goggles were on her head, clashing with her black hair, but complimenting her blue highlights quite well. 

She in turn, also saw the three that were already here. All three turned to Jeral as well. 

There he stood, with a tan uniform over which a green, environmentally-sealed storm trooper carapace armour was worn. A helmet, with goggles and rebreather covered his face. Hanging around his neck; the seal of the inquisition, a white, stylised ‘I’ 

Comedically, all four blinked at the same time. 

Finally, someone broke the silence, and it was Jeral. 

“Who the karking hel are you lot?”

…

Elijah el-Muhit has had many dreams before. Some of them are nice, filled with warm food, flowers, lovely music and singing. Others were more evil of sorts, filled with anger, shouting, and sharp teeth. 

Either way, he didn’t really worry about that. 

Afterall, his beloved was always there. At least, he thinks it’s him. He sometimes dreamt of a blue fortress, from which a voice that sounds almost like his beloved’s voice calls to him. 

Elijah was smart enough to realize that that is probably an imposter.

Of course, some of his dreams seem so… real. 

Growing up on the oceanic hive-world of Incron, and of him gathering sump barnacles and razorcrabs.

Of figuring out his ‘curse’ gift. Visions of the future would flood into his mind, albeit murky forms of it.

He dreamt of using said power to make a living telling fortunes in the seedy underbelly of the Moebian society that Incron was a part of. And of how that it was only a matter of time before the unsanctioned use of psychic powers was reported.

He dreamt of his sentencing, his liberation, and conscription by an Inquisitor to fight a war of penance, resisting a traitor guard regiment and a Nurgle cult on a hive world. 

He dreamt of its end, and how he and some of the other penal troopers sent there were whisked away by another inquisitor. 

He dreamt of placing a tracking servo skull, and of being flung into a brick wall through a warp portal. 

Yes, he has dreamt many dreams, but his beloved saw him through it all. 

He just hadn’t figured out that a shocking amount of those dreams were a bit more… well… solid.

Elijah opened his eyes.

‘Weird, not quite sure what that monologue was all about. Still, it sounded quite interesting. Right, beloved?’

As he opened his eyes, he immediately recognized several things. 

Firstly, he felt that his hood and the cloth that covered his mouth were down, revealing his face to the world. A bit uncomfortable, but not the worst. Being a psyker, uncomfortable looks from others were par for the course.

He saw that above him was a lightbulb, rather low tech, even for the Imperium, but not all that bad. It was a warm mixture of a white-yellow glow. Very comforting. 

He felt that he was on a couch of some sort, of some form of material (not that he was sure what material it was).

The sensation of a cold press on his head was also felt.

He then felt something. Not physically, but the sensation that he was being… watched.

He raises his upper body, sitting up at a speed that resembles a spring whose tension had been released. Elijah turns his head in the direction that he felt he was being watched from.

He was met with three women, one with long, raven black hair, another (who was noticeably shorter) with short blue hair and wearing black clothing, punctuated with orange. The third woman had blonde hair, tidied up in a neat professional bun, while wearing a mixture of black clothing, a white shirt. 

Elijah slowly blinked. The three in turn slowly blinked. Elijah blinked again, just as slowly as before. The three also gave a slow blink as well. 

Finally someone said something. 

The short woman pulled out a small box, before presenting it to Elijah. 

“Err, hi. Bento?”

…

Wise had seen many things in his time. And some of it wasn’t even within the past 6 months. Some mundane (such as some of Nicole’s moneymaking schemes) to the profound (such as some of Nicole’s moneymaking schemes), to the outright absurd (such as some of Nicole’s moneymaking schemes).

That being said, this is a new one.

If you were to ask Wise this morning that he would be part of a team of H.A.N.D. and N.E.D.F. personal, who discovered a vaguely sci-fi portal in the middle of a Hollow Zero that transported you to another world, (with said portal still being there, consistently open), and that in the brief time you were sent to explore it (leaving Eous outside back at Scott’s Outpost for safety), and then come across another two persons that were also armed, then Wise would… actually not be too surprised, though he would confess that that might be due to some of the shenanigans his associates and friends have been in. 

Having said that, that first meeting had gone… sideways. 

“Who the karking hel are you lot?”

Immediately, several things occurred in rapid succession. 

The rest of Section 6 and the Obol squad rushed forward behind Trigger and Wise.

Another group of people appeared behind the woman with the shield, dressed in a  variety of clothing, and holding a variety of weapons, both professional and makeshift (how else would you refer to a girl holding a part of a water pipe).

Then a third group appeared behind the man who was holding the rather bulky gun (Wise wasn’t sure what would warrant such an odd looking gun). They were dressed perhaps the most professional looking, suggesting them to be soldiers of some form, aside from the noticeably older man and the taller man who was walking alongside a heavily modified dog. Wise also noted how everyone in that group was wearing some form of gasmask, mainly ones that covered their nose and mouths. 

It was also at that moment that chaos reigned, the words molding and merging together, where in which Wise could only understand the accusations and intents, albeit not the specific words. 

The masks saw Soukaku, Miyabi, and Orphie, and more noticeably, saw their… uniqueness, and called them ‘abhumans’, at which point they began to bicker amongst themselves, though Wise noted that the guns were quite firmly fixed upon Miyabi, Soukaku, and Orphie. 

Naturally, the rest of Section 6 and Obol squad took offense to what they quickly realized was a little bit of a xenophobic remark, and so began to argue back as well. 

Meanwhile, the other group, they looked on, and of all people, the girl with the bear beanie and water pipe got a bit rowdy as well, screaming profanities at both groups. Wise noticed some form of energy being leaked from her, as well as one of the other girls, one who had one of her eyes covered. 

The masks noticed as well, and began regarding them with derogatory terms as well, namely dropping the words ‘freak’ and ‘witches’ at them, which in turn angered the largely female other group (as well as the two men there as well). 

At least, that was what Wise was able to gather. Wise couldn’t hear most of the conversations, as the voices overlapped, and words became indistinguishable. ‘Cacophony’ was the word of the meeting.

Wise noticed that one of the masked men had a box with antennas on his back.

He had put down his gun, and was speaking into a handset that was connected to his backpack. 

‘Probably a radio operator of some form’. 

The entire time, he was silent, and comedically enough, so was that first woman with the shield, and the completely armored man as well. He looked odd to Wise, the breastplate paired with pauldrons, greaves, kneepads, and other forms of blocky armor, paired with a helmet with a full faceplate. The sword and aforementioned bulky gun were weird contrasts.

The three of them shared a look. Wise swore he could see on the man’s face (even if said helmet and faceplate obscured that face) a look of sheepishness, a look that was more openly shared by the woman with the shield. All three shared the look of embarrassment of the shared similarity of having rambunctious, if not slightly deranged coworkers, and then going up from there.

Suddenly, everyone silenced, as a sound was heard, the drawing of a blade. All eyes snapped to the source. 

Wise became suddenly very concerned, when he turned, and found that Miyabi had drawn her blade, but she held up a hand, as though to say, ‘listen’. 

The silence held, as something was heard.

A growl was heard, from the cyberborg dog, growling towards the fourth entrance into the dried watering hole. 

The sounds of barking were heard. Not the soft bark of regular dogs, but more like a mixture of a growl and a bark, as though it came from an angry wolf-dog hybrid, and it felt… sickly. 

The heavily armored man turned toward that path, and brought up his gun to bear. 

 “You all might want to keep an eye down that way.” Suddenly, several hounds, about 8 or 9, bursted out of the corner. 

Wise felt a sickly feeling rise in his stomach at the hounds. 

They were green, with no hair, and boils covering their bodies. Spikes jutted from their bodies in grotesque manners, and the skin covered other orifices in a thin membrane. Live maggots wiggled from open sores. Drool oozed from their open mouths. 

Wise could hear some of the others from the multiple groups trying to hold in retches, even as their smell assaulted them. 

Only the elderly man, the tall man, and the armored man remained calm, as they each yelled a different phrase. 

“Sigma-Minoris-33.”

“Sextus-Minoris-16.”

“POX HOUND KINDRED AND STRANGERS!!!” 

Then the hounds lunged.

…

“Err, hi. Bento?” When Belle said that, the strange man stared a little longer. 

Taking the hood and mouth cloth earlier had revealed the man to be about the same age as Wise. Scars continued to litter the man’s face, while the tattoos of eyes somewhat concerned Belle a little. Still, she popped out earlier to get a bento box from the 141 convenience store.

She had returned, and just as she did so, the man had awakened. Hence the offering of the bento.

The man stared back, before opening his mouth.

“You know, I have dreamt many dreams, but I must confess, this is a new one.”

Yeah, Belle wasn’t expecting that response. And her curious mind leans in.

“Dream? What do you mean by that?”

The man tilted his head, turning toward Belle as he did so.

“Yes, you see, this is all a dream, like the rest. Admittedly this is one of the nicer dreams I have had,” before turning his head aside, “thank you beloved.” Astra, Belle, and Evelyn all shared a confused look, before Evelyn turned to him.

“But, you look… pretty awake to me.” Polite awkwardness dripped from Evelyn’s voice and tone. The type of tone when you just hear something that is really bizarre, but you don’t want to hurt the other person’s feelings. 

“No, no, no fair lady. I only look awake. You are all imaginary. And…” he pauses, his voice drifting off. “What’s that beloved? I should still introduce myself?” Yeah, Belle is thinking the guy might be off his mind. Suddenly, the man gives a small chuckle. 

“Of course, where are my manners? I'm Elijah el-Muhit, from the world of Incron, pleased to meet you. I think.” Belle nodded, as did Astra. 

“Well nice to meet you Elijah, I’m Belle, she,” gesturing to Evelyn, “is Evelyn and she,” gesturing to Astra, “is Astra Yao, and…” her voice drifted off, as one of the things that Elijah had said finally registered into her mind. “I’m sorry, did you just say the world of Incron?” 

Elijah nodded.

“Yes, the hive-world of Incron, in the Mobeian domain. Why are you looking at me confused?” Evelyn leaned in.

“What is this ‘hive world’ you speak of?”

“Oh you know, massive megacities that cover the entire surfaces of planets, you know the rest.” He glances around. “Er, is this a hive world?” Elijah was met with the shaking of three heads. Elijah pauses, fixating a stare on Belle. 

“Er, my beloved is telling me that this is a new world sort of situation, and is in part asking me to check my gift. Do you mind if you hold still real quick?” He then reaches a hand out, about a foot away from Belle’s forehead. 

“What’s going o–” a blueish-white glow emerges, as Elijah’s eyes turn a glowing white. Evelyn and Astra recoil back at the suddenness. 

And the visions… start.

…

Elijah walked forward, through a manifestation. It resembled a city, though not necessarily a Hive city.

Too clean, too spacious, and people were actually happy and not in despair.

“Yes beloved, I agree, this is how humanity should live.” He walks forward, glancing around at the various sights, as well as the voices.

Memories.

“Belle, Wise, welcome to Helios.”

The slamming of a car door, as gunshots rang out.

“CAROLE MOM!” 

“Let’s go with… Phaethon.”

The jingle of a door bell. 

“Welcome to Random Play.”

Suddenly, Elijah comes across a door, standing up right in the middle of the street. He opens the door.

He is met with… an unusual sight.

A table stood in the middle of an empty white room, which was paired with a chair.

In said chair was Belle, wearing the costume that resembled a large simian. The upper half was pulled back, with the zipper down to the waist. Underneath the costume, was an undershirt, the kind you wear for wearing a mascot costume. On the table was the head of the costume, facing towards Elijah. Belle sat there, a sandwich in her hands, some sort of seafood and terrestrial creature sandwich (crab meat and steak for those curious) paired with cheese and numerous sauces, a bite taken out of it. 

Belle glanced at Elijah. 

“Uh, I don’t think you should be here.” Elijah was immediately flung out.

…

Belle opened her eyes, and found that she was in a void. 

The void was… well… a void. 

She could see nothing, as there was nothing to see, only white. But she soon began hearing. Words spoken, with echoes reverbing off them, a voice coming like it sounded like it came from a young man. 

At once, hundreds of sentences, statements, and yelling came at once, overloading Belle, but she was able to piece together a couple of the sayings, the words flowing at once. 

“I shouldn’t even be here. Tithe fell short of recruits, so they dragged Throneside to make up the numbers. I got caught in the net.”

“I still remember the parade they threw us. Heroes one and all, we are. Bringing light to the darkness of the Fringe.”

“Don’t mind Wolfer’s scars, recruit. You’ll soon have plenty of your own.”

“Rodin Karnak's not fit to be an officer ... but he can fight, I'll give him that.”

“Why is it that we’re starving and Rinda Karnak’s squad are eating well?”

“That commissar's always watching. Don't give him a reason to act.”

“The colonel's missing, that's what I heard. Die well, you cantankerous old bastard. Mate of mine said that Colonel Gortun was acting strange before he vanished though.”

“We’re going to Nox Alpha? That’s a karking death sentence. There’s a reason Saint Messelina never came to Nox Alpha, that’s all I’m saying.”

Suddenly, the void took on a sickly green hue, and the voices kept getting louder as they reverbed in a cacophony, as the occasional flash of red streaks and orange spots that resembled flames appeared, surrounding Belle. 

“We lost contact with Kalladan Company during the drop, sir! We're on our own!”

“They're coming for us again! Break out the heavy weapons!” The chatter of what sounded to be a machine gun fired off behind Belle, but as soon as she turned around, she saw nothing.

“They're falling back! Fix bayonets and run them down! We keep moving, no matter what. Someone goes down: leave them!”

“They’re dug in! Purgation teams move in: feed them promethium!” An ugly red and orange streak roared out, accompanied by screams, forcing Belle to cover her ears. 

The air grew stifling for Belle, as she felt a sickly smell coming as well. She tried to cover her nose and mouth with her hands, but the smell leaked through, and soon, Belle had trouble breathing. The voices continued.

“Sir? The men are getting sick, sir. Real sick. The contagion's getting worse and no word from command. What do we do, captain?”

“You remember how Danner kept complaining about bellyache? He just … burst … yesterday. Maggots everywhere. Don’t envy the cleanup crew.”

“Enemy walked through Anchorpoint Numen last night without a shot fired. Nox Rot did their work for them.”

Soon, the smell dissipated, but Belle glanced around and she thought she saw shadowy figures, but as soon as she saw them, they disappeared. Buzzing and laughing now accompanied the voices. 

“Had a dream last night. Tertium was burning. The 6th were there but we couldn't stop it. We just burned alongside.”

“They found Marrick this morning, face down in the mud and his eyes wide. Scared to death by something only he could see.”

“Anyone else hear that laughter? Anyone? ... Come on, stop messing about.”

“Make it stop,” whimpered Belle, and soon, the voice and her yelled out the same thing, at the same time.

“Is anybody there? … Stop laughing … I said STOP LAUGHING!/I said STOP LAUGHING!” The laughing stopped, as did the voices, while Belle took several shaky breaths. 

But then the sounds returned, as did the screamings. Belle covered her ears, but no matter what, the voices screamed, first in panic, then in alarm, then in anger, reverbing as though they were in her head. 

“There's fighting at Anchorpoint Jorholm, sir ... Moebian fighting Moebians ... Karking hel …”

“Sir? This is Sergeant Patel Geeren at Anchorpoint Jorholm. Wolfer's men are killing everyone! We need help!”

“Word just came down from command. Wolfer… The Karnaks ... Half the bleeding officer corps have turned traitor… Blessed Throne…”

“The Emperor Protects ... The Emperor Protects … The Emperor Protects… May the light of Saint Messelina preserve us …”

“On your feet! We've martyrs to avenge! For the Emperor!”

“There you are, traitor. Got a holy bullet just for you…” A shot rings out, and Belle tries to find the source, as around her, the red angry streaks flash by, shadowy figures danced, and the screams of men and laughter that doesn’t sound human ring out. Suddenly, silence. Belle looks up, and she sees the vague silhouette of a man, dressed in some form of uniform and armor, clutching a hand grenade in his hands. 

He whispers out words that echoed, much like the voices, and to Belle’s horror, it was the same voice as the voices that surrounded her. 

“Though I walk in the shadow of heresy, I shall stand tall. Thy will shall be done. We’re all martyrs in the making, but our deaths WILL count.” He pulls the pin, and snaps his head up, screaming. Finally, Belle could see the man’s face. Burns and scars littered his face, streaks of white and pale brown crossed the man’s dark brown skin.

“By Terra, I'll not die easy! Or alone! THE EMPEROR PROTECTS!” He releases the grenade, just as sickly green tentacles, maggots and flies swarm him.

The explosion that rings out knocks Belle back. Belle’s ears ring, while she sees stars. She hears another voice.

“To Tertium! May her walls never crumble and her light never fade!”

She pulls herself up, finding herself now in a dark alleyway, the walls bearing gothic architecture. She sees flames in the distance, as she exits the alleyway, to find a street battle.

Men in dark uniforms with sickly green lights accompanied men in yellow cloaks and clothings, covered in boils, scars and ruins, firing a plethora of weapons. 

Their targets were another group of men, wearing black armor, as well another group wearing blue uniforms underneath black armor as well.

Belle felt a hand on her back. She turns around to find Elijah.

“Oh dear,” he said, concern etched into his eyes, even as his mouth and nose were covered in some mask, his voice sounding different through the mask. “This is not your dream now is it?”

He then shoves her, and the images fade away.

…

The first poxhound lunged at the nearest person, one of the Zaporozhians. The poxhound pounced onto his, and with a single bite, snapped the guardsman’s neck.

A second poxhound lunged at Jeral. He is knocked down, his plasma gun goes flying. However before he can take a bite from his neck, Jeral raises his hands, grabbing the hounds muzzle. The hound has him pinned, but he can’t bite. Suddenly, Jeral hears the sound of the whining of a plasma gun. A plasma bolt slams into the hounds side, disintegrating it, causing the vile beast to collapse, which Jeral is then able to shove off him. He turns his head to try and find the plasma gun.

He sees it in the hands of the man in the white clothing with the grey hair, a look of evident surprise on his face. Jeral sighs.

‘Of karking course I got saved by a civvie.’ He glanced around quickly to see how the rest were faring.

The poxhound that lunged and took out one of the Zaporozhians was immediately shot at by the other guardsmen, who through volume of fire, quickly took it down before it could claim another.

Some of the other poxhounds headed towards the other groups, who also dispatched them.

The sniper lady next to the civvie leveled her rifle, and with a single shot, struck one of the hounds slowing it down. Surprise was on her face, as she saw it continue, though her second shot quickly ended the hound. Another two lunged at their group, and were quickly cut down by the blade of the fox abhuman as well as two others in the group. 

A sixth hound went for them as well, but was backhanded by the blue abhuman child, before being silenced from a shot by one of the female gunners in the third group.

A seventh hound lunged at that third group, prompting the child in that group to start swearing profanity, but the lunge was blocked by the shield lady(?), with one of the men in that group with an ax and a long knife plunged both into the hound.

An eighth poxhound lunged at them as well, but was blocked by the male shieldbearer in that group, with one of the girls in that raised her hand, and a bolt of energy flew from her hand, striking it dead.

‘Great,’ thought Jeral. ‘More bleeding witches. Just what I need.’

That left the ninth poxhound, who snarled and then lunged at the civvie.

It never made it to the young man, as a massive bolt of laser slammed into it, throwing the hound to the side, still.

Everyone turned to the source of that bolt.

Hobbling over towards the dried watering hole, were six sentinels, 3 scout variants, and 3 armoured variants. Finally, one of the armored sentinels halted by the edge of the watering hole, the door on the side opens. A man leaned out, wearing a blue-grey uniform, with a coat hanging over one of his shoulders, and a sidecap worn upon his head. A rebreather was fixed upon his face, while his goggles were pulled up onto his forehead.

Jeral can see the sabre and recon lasgun carbine inside the cockpit of the vehicle, and the laspistol on his hips.

“This is sergeant Sandor Nagy of the 10th Soproni Huszars. We’re here to assist.” He glances over at the other two groups, who were all staring blankly at the sentinels.

“Please don’t resist.” Jeral brought a hand up to his forehead.

No introductions had been done yet, and yet somehow this has become the most stressful mission he had been on.

It will get weirder.