Corporal Lyons ascended the rough iron stairs and made his way to the top.Positioning himself in a shatered windowsil, he began to unpack. Assembiling his beloved rifle Matilda, he chambered a round and surveyed the field of battle. The loyalist idiots had made headway.Charging through the rubble strewn streets, the "glorious" 149th Bormanian Fusiliers were advancing on Rakuvan positions, advancing into heavy stubber fire.
Lyons took aim and searched for a target to kill.All at once a great scream arose from the front. A Loyalist Hellhound was Immolating a platoon of Rebels and was looking to force a path towards the pillboxes. Aiming, Lyons sqeezed the trigger. The rifle snapped out an incendiary round which struck the fuel tanks with a crack. A second passed. Then two. Then- BOOM. A great gout of oily flame engulfed the tank, sending sheets of cascading flame into the cowed Guards behind it. Burn ya bastards, thought Lyons. Chambering a round, he scanned the plaza untill he caught a glimpse. Yes, a command squad, perfect. Squeezing off six rounds, the squad lay headless behind the smoking tank ruin. Screams rose high and shreiking to his left. A rather large Loyalist was carrying a heavy bolter slung from his shoulders. He was laying waste to a squad of men. Setting his aim on the brute's ammo pack, an incendiary round struck home, causing a cough of bolter rounds to erupt. The brute staggered forward and a moment later he split apart into a gory heap of organs.And then Lyons saw the Valkyrie.
Someone on the ground must have noticed all the explosions and death and figured a sniper was around. The valkyrie had spotted him. "Feth me" was all he had time to say. An ear splitting roar followed, launching the sniper into the air, crashing a few meters away.
Darkness.
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Hours later, Lyons awoke, sore, cut and groggy. He had no idea what had happened. His rifle was smashed, his revolver dented and he was completely alone.Well maybe not completely.
It seems while he was out, the Fusiliers had made a big push and had secured the plaza. This was bad news. Lyons knew what would happen next. All the families would be declared traitors, the men and children shot, the women raped and burned alive. Like on the homeworld. Like on all the worlds he had seen whilst in the guard.Who do they guard? Nobody. They loot and pillage and feth and burn all they take.And now here he was. Miles from his comrades. Isolated. But not helpless.
Time for some light-hearted subterfuge.
The Colonel made a last gurgling noise and fell to his feet dead. His blood pooled in a halo of red over the maps and amaesac and pornography. He had managed to fire off a round from his bolter, alerting the guard outside in the corridor. Footsteps pounded down the hallway. Cleaning his knife and taking the bolter, Lyons swung a heavy boot at the fire exit and jumped out. He would have to double back and deal with the Guards. He rounded the bunker and reentered. Three soldiers stood inside.One grizzled seargeant and two gormless idiots. "Evening boys". Hm, he thought, a smart comment really DOES make the difference. The bolter barked off a shell, pitching one goon across the desk and giving the wall a fresh coat of claret. "What the feth?" muttered the other idiot, joinig the dots. " Ah gack, kill him, kill him, kill him!" shouted the sarge. Swinging his knife, Lyons managed to cut off the sarge's nose and drive it through his temple, killing him. The surviving trooper loosed a shotgun shell at the sniper, missing and splattering the sarge' head. Raining trained strikes on the trooper, Lyons quickly shatterd the man's ribs before collapsing his windpipe with a chop from his left hand. Three men dead in only thirty five seconds. A new record.Pausing to pick up the maps, Lyons nonchalantly tossed a krak grenade over his shoulder and strolled out of the bunker. The resulting explosian was most gratefying.
It was near dawn when the sniper discovered the promethium depot. It was of a large size with a number of vehicles hooked up to the promethium drums. Suddenly, a wave of inspiration flowed through him. This will be fething epic, he thought. Finding a sentry who was smoking a iho stick. The sniper tapped him on the shoulder. The guard turned around and got a knife up the solar plexis for his troubles. Donning the uniform and taking a melta charge under his flak vest, Lyons moved to the canteen ajacent to one of the pumps. entering through the back door, he made his was to the announcement desk and took up the vox mouthpiece and said
" We here in the canteen would like to imform you that we have made up several baskets of donuts for the guardsmen out there . All who want donuts should proceed to the canteen at once.That is all." Lyons broke into a sprint and raced out the back door. Spinning round to the fuel pump, he placed the melta charge and set the timer to 120 seconds. Sprinting away from the
base, ignoring the confused cries of soldiers as he barreled into them. He made it out of the base and then.....
An earth shattering roar ensued and a jet of flame burnt the sky followed by a series of smaller explosions. Lyons looked back and saw... nothing.
The base was completely gone.
He spent the next two days wandering north, groxshitting his way past patrols.And then he saw it, one more stab at glory.
After two days, Lyons found himself on the edge of the city. Not good. Until he saw it. The Valkyrie Airfield. Bane of the Rakuvan armoured divisions. This was going to be tough.
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Crouching behind a drum, Lyons surveiyed the scene. Twenty Valkyries, five Marauders ad two thunderbolts. He saw that the valkyries were being filled with soldiers, ready for war. He was going to join them. Sneaking along the wall of the mess hall, he spied a latrine. It appeared to be occupied. He kicked down the door. "Sorry, forgot to knock." he quipped befor killing the pilot.
(AUTHOR'S NOTE:Sorry for the James Bond referance. It seemed appropriate) Donning the pilot garb, he made his way to the Valkyrie VK-ST15 and made his way up the ramp. The guardsmen were already seated. "Hey flyboy, done taking a shit yet?" yelled one belligerent groxfether. "Yeah I have boot." no time for insults. Not with what he planned. He just hopped they didnt notice the krak grenades.
Lyons had some flight experiance. He knew all the buttons and when to flip or press something. He joined the rest of the air cavelry as they moved over the city.They were close to frendly territory, but not yet, not yet, not- now! Lyons put the krack grenades under the seat and oppened the rear hatch. The Valkyrie decompressed quickly, setting off a cacopheny of alarm bells and whistles. Climbing up, Lyons walked to the hatch and said " Have an nice trip lads, this is my stop." and leaped.
Falling, falling and more falling. Plunging towards the ground. The parachute whipped out and caught the air. A loud moom sounded above.Lyons knew that he was returning to it. Decending into death, into hell.
Into Glory.
