ok little blurb I wrote cuz I can't find a good connect for it yet.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Volker stood, arms out, as he approached the defended walls. In front of the heavily-armored entryway was a single Chaplain in black armor adorned with skulls and purity seals. As the chaplain pulled off his mask, Volker froze in place as Alari's face came into view- with new tattoos and scars, but still Alari under it all.
Was it all a warp trick? Some sort of poison that had entered his system? He couldn't figure it out, even as the other man came closer. Not until the chaplain’s fist connected with his face, causing him to fall to his knees due to the force, did he even assume he was real.
He could have easily shattered his head, so Volker was aware that he was holding back with the attack. That only proved that truly, this was reality, as the blood started to fill his mouth. The chaos marine started to laugh, maniacally, looking upwards to the chaplain, to Alari, standing in front of him. “You're real. This is real!”
Alari glared, looking down at the madman before him as if he had seen a ghost. He grabbed the laspistol from his side and placed it onto the Chaos marine's forehead, still seething, still clearly angry.
Ok OC indulgent fic for origins of my chaos boy. Pretty bog standard blood, guts, and cursing, so there's your warning.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“War, war never changes.” - Fallout
“Captain? Captain, come in, we- damnit- Captain?!” Volker was shouting into his comms with nothing but static in return, firing round after round into encroaching tyranids until his gun threatened to overheat. In a half second he undid his helmet, threw it at an approaching bug, allowing him a momentary stun before filling that beast with laser fire.
“Alari, my coms are out, what are they saying?!” Shouting over the incessant noise from weapons and monsters, Volker fired at anything that was approaching too quickly, or was getting too close to their base. The marine to his left continued to fire, but with his vox working was able to speak loud enough for him to hear. “They’re - they’re calling us all back, Volker. We need to get out of here!”
“What?!” He let his guard down for half a second, turning to look at his brother-in-arms in shock before realizing what a stupid move that was, and proceeded to refocus his attention on the oncoming hoard. “Retreat where?! We can’t give up our home! WE CANNOT GIVE-” one tyranid nearly broke the line, causing Volker to step back slightly and restart a stream of fire as the body slid across the ground due to momentum. “I will not back down. We cannot give our planet to these bastards, are they mad?!”
Alari took a half second to reload, speaking directly to the man next to him. “Would you rather die here in vain or keep fighting, you idiot?! We’ve already lost six brothers!” Once reloaded, he leaned forward into the attack to hold his position. “We clear this line then we go back, you hear me?!” He turned fully to look at Volker now, trying to drive the point home. “We. Go. Back!”
Volker could feel his hackles rising in anger and irritation, taking another moment to let his rifle cool down. Turning to yell at Alari, his eyes grew wide as he saw a hormagunt that had somehow snuck close enough to rush his friend down. “ALARI-!” The beast had already swung a scythed arm, bodyslamming into the marine before Volker could react. Immediately, he fired high and attempted to wound the beast without causing damage to his friend, but both collapsed onto the ground before he could confirm the shot was a success. “Alari!” He shouted again before realizing he had left his own back unguarded- and he caught movement out of the corner of his eye: another hormagaunt closing in. He couldn’t lift his gun in time as the beast slammed into him. Falling to the ground, he could see the beast was lining up for a perfect kill shot - a quick slice, across his exposed neck to decapitate him and end it all.
Perhaps the Emperor’s hand was in play- perhaps it was sheer luck- or perhaps a maddened god took pity. Regardless of how, Volker was able to move just enough to where the claws met not his neck, but the soft skin of his cheek, ripping and tearing away easily as he readied his gun. Firing, yelling in pain, yelling in anger, the beast was blasted in two as he was splattered with the innards of the tyranid.
He couldn’t wait. He had to check on Alari. Pushing himself back to his feet, he ran over to his friend who was still not moving under the body of the tyranid on top of him. “Alari, come on, you can’t give up now,” his words were slurred as his mouth filled with blood, pouring from his wound and down his cheek. He dislodged the hormagaunt to see his friend with an arm sliced off, but beginning to stir.“Get up! We have to go!” Volker reached for the man’s good arm, to be met with a groan and a cry of pain.
“Just… shit, leave me, Volker, you get out of here-” Alari started to speak as he was being pulled roughly up, disorientated and his head pounding.
“Absolutely not! We are getting out of here together, get your feet under you and run!” He wrapped an arm around the other man’s waist and half-dragged him forward, towards the final rendezvous point.. Volker could feel his friend starting to move under his own power, but he refused to let go. The tyranid hoard was growing, tearing down the remaining structures and all their previous defenses amidst the cries and screams of those that weren’t able to break away in time.
A Thunderhawk came into view, a few other wounded soldiers climbing aboard desperately as the rockets started to power up. “Almost…” the word slipped out of Volker’s mouth, dripping in the blood still filling his senses from his wound. He was pushing himself as hard as he could, closing the distance with blinding speed, but still hanging onto Alari for fear of losing him. They got up the ramp just as soon as the jet fully roared to life, and Volker attempted to set his friend down on a bench among the other wounded and mangled fighters.
As he turned to look behind, Volker saw more troops trying to rush towards the Thunderhawk, but could see the entry ramp closing. “Hey, wait, we need to get them… Hey, hey! Hold on, they're almost here!” And yet the ramp continued to rise up and slowly close off the view to the outside. “HEY!” Volker moved back towards the closed hatch, only to be met by one human officer, seemingly defiant of the massive body headed his way.
“We only have a few seconds of open air to get out of here! We cannot wait another moment or we will all be lost! They have given their life honorably!” He stared up at the bleeding Astartes, who clearly wanted nothing more than to crush him into paste. The mention of honor burned in Volker's mouth as he stood there, glaring at this puny man. The ship shuddered as it took off at full speed, now off the ground and rushing away from the planet. There was nothing more to be done- Volker turned wordlessly, swallowing blood and bile as he found a place to silently stand, still enraged at the retreat and the loss.
***********
Volker refused any healing or mending, shooing anyone or anything away that got close and saying flatly to assist others. The skin was already starting to scar up, and he didn't give a shit with how he looked, caked-on blood and all. He was alive.
He watched as several other ships landed, rushed to unload, and the wounded and dying poured out. Triage was actively occurring as people ran by. Some were sent to the med bay, others sent to makeshift bays where they were set down to die with dignity.
It was clear this wasn't even a successful retreat- it was a panicked rush and a failed fight.
It was over.
Sotha was lost.
Volker couldn't escape the thoughts crashing into him like waves, the constant anger and fear knowing that he failed. He failed his brothers, his home, the Imperium. What honor was there in living when everyone else was dead?
His only relief was the glimmering thought of Alari still being tended to. He had to see him and try to get his perspective on all of… this. He pushed himself to his feet, making his way around the others scurrying about below him.
In the actual medbay, Atstartes in varying states were being worked on, bandaged, and patched up. Two even walked out under their own power once Volker entered, but the numbers were significantly slashed than what should have been aboard. He scanned those around for his friend, spotting him set up in a bed, wrapped in bandages around his chest and the stump of his right arm. The beasts had cleanly taken it off at the elbow, the only mercy possibly being it didn't hit a more vital spot. Alari seemed to catch sight of Volker at the same time, though an initial smile was quickly dissolved as he saw his own friend in bloody disarray. “Volker, why didn't you get patched up? Or at least cleaned up,” he offered disappointedly as his friend approached. He briefly looked around his own makeshift cot for something to help. Spotting some loose gauze and offering it up with his good arm, he gave the man a knowing look, like a disappointed mother seeing a mud-caked child.
Sighing, Volker gingerly took the gauze but said nothing, using it to wipe away the crusted blood and ooze on his face until he could feel it all brushed away, but haphazardly enough where red streaks remained apparent. “How are you holding up?” As he finally spoke, it was clear he was getting used to his wrecked cheek, and some slurred or staccatoed words would be the norm for some time.
Alari shrugged, patting his half-arm before continuing, “Honestly I should be dead as the others.” This was met with a snort from Volker, but he continued speaking, “Your quick-attack stopped the scythes from penetrating my armor. I can get something to replace my arm, that I am not worried about. You saved me, Volker, even when I was in shock.”
“We shouldn't have been in such a situation to begin with,” he responded, in a low tone but still full of anger. “I made you refocus. The beast wouldn't have breached the line if things had gone properly.”
“I don't think we would have had any other choice but to retreat-” Alari started before being snapped at by Volker.
“To what ends, Alari?! The planet is gone! The Scythes of the Emperor are… gone, Alari.” There was an all-consuming fear flickering behind the eyes of Volker, a massive sense of loss of himself and his beliefs. The void's chasm was widening, but he was brought back to reality as Alari pulled on his arm to bring him closer to where he was recuperating.
“We are still here. The Scythes are not dead, not so long as WE are still standing. And we will get fixed up, and go back out, and obliterate those bugs, and beat them back into the corners of the galaxy. Understood?” Alari stared directly into Volker's eyes as he spoke, trying to drive home his point. The injured man was also filled with a fire, but instead of the hopelessness of Volker, there was a passion burning, and he was trying to make his friend understand.
Volker simply met the stare, but the spark couldn't be lit in his own soul from his friend's deep passion. He sighed, slowly standing to his full height once more, taking another long look around the medbay. Alari's faith never wavered, and the still-armored astartes couldn't find the right words to say, or even a way to meet his gaze again. All he could do is let out a ragged sigh, head lowering to stare at his armored boots. Flecks of tyranid goo had encrusted themselves along the edges. “Come find me when they… release you from medical,” He stammered a bit, bringing his eyes back up to look at his friend.
Alari tried to chuckle, but it led into a short, rough cough. “What, aren't you going to offer me one of your good arms to replace mine?”
Volker could feel his lips tugging into a smile, though the jagged, wrecked side felt unnatural as he quickly let the moment pass. “I'm sure they have better spare parts in the back, somewhere.” He placed a hand on his friend's bandaged shoulder for only a moment before turning around and walking out of the medical wing, still trying to process everything that had happened.
