A Burning Dog
"The only easy day was yesterday." Those were the words that 1st Sergeant Matsui would invoke during their training. It was something that Colton Reyes kept in mind upon his induction into the Black Brigades. The 1st Sergeant claimed that it was an ancient motto of Nord Merican, "Frog Men," which most assumed to be a group of military-trained abhumans. Such myths aside, it invoked a sense of perseverance in the face of danger or challenges that each mission or operation may very well be more challenging and "ambitious" than the last.
And for a Black Brigade, their missions were certainly challenging. The mental and physical toll upon them was perhaps up there with only the greatest and most lethal of the Imperiums advance combat units, who were, in turn, second to the Astartes. A black brigadier was expected to perform and succeed in unsavory missions. The greatest challenge was accepting that you were the ones that got called into cleaning up another mess and getting reviled for it.
There were no heroics to be had in the brigades.
Colton didn't care about being called a hero. He had grown up in the streets of Kuvola, a low Imperial World that produced only cogitator parts and criminals. He decided that he didn't want to be working in a factory or fighting in a gang. Colton joined the Imperial Army at the tender age of fifteen and fought for the better part of six years. His entire world was war, and while he did not enjoy it...he didn't hate it either.
His first captain within the Kuvolan 22nd Line Infantry called him a "lifer," the type of Trooper that found a purpose within the Great Crusade. Colton wasn't like those poor sons of a bitches that thought they were doing something "great" by participating in the Crusade. No, Colton just wanted to prove a point to himself and be a damn good soldier.
Unfortunately, Colton made the mistake of being too
effective a killer. During the Siege of Morion, Lance Corporal Colton Reyes earned infamy. He had been the archetype between ending a rather tense standoff between rebels and his regiment.
These rebels had harassed Colton and the Kuvolan 22nd for the better part of four weeks. Finally fed up, the commanders of the 22nd ordered that an assault be prepared to flush out the rebels in the local habitation bloc. The problem was that the rebels were strongly suspected of hiding inside an apartment complex, and as such, Army command wanted to reduce civilian deaths if possible.
When the order came, it was expected that the 22nd would take heavy casualties in the process of trying to clear out nearly forty floors. The prospect of room to room fighting would be grueling and horrible. So, Colton decided to take another option; by taking control of several vehicles, he then attached several satchel charges and then used them as mobile explosive devices.
He blew up the first three stories of the building, which caused it to collapse entirely. He killed an entire rebel cell and likely saved hundreds of his brothers in arms, but he also killed ~2000 civilians in the process. When the Army officials invested in the situation, they ultimately called Colton's actions "effective, but cruel."
Colton responded by saying, "I wasn't the one that asked these bastards to hide among the civilians. Besides, the civilians were helping them. Anyone that helps or aids the enemy is one as well. No excuses. We've spent the last six months trying to take one city after the other, and we are still getting nothing by crap from the people who are supposed to be helping us. All I did was stop playing by the enemies' rules."
Whatever he said must have resonated well. Any possible charges against him were officially dropped. His actions were declared "necessary" and "effective" in light of the growing chaos on Morion. In the end, the Kuvolan 22nd would spend another year helping pacify it. Around that time, Colton was allowed to join a certain branch of the Solar Auxilia.
It was all very hush-hush. He met with a Major and was grilled extensively about many strange topics, almost all related to war and its rules. Again, Colton must have said the right thing because they gave him the option to join a group called the Black Brigades, a growing detachment within the Imperial Army that knew what had to be done to preserve their way of life and humanity.
"You'll get your hands dirty. You'll be required to kill people, even fellow troopers, if necessary. There is no glory here, but you'll be given a purpose that serves a greater good. Are you prepared to go down this path?"
"Sir, I'm ready to go all the way. Just give me a chance."
Colton left on the 22nd the next day. His old life ended, and his new one with the Black Brigades would begin that year, and the next four
agonizing years of training would follow. They broke him down and reshaped him. They gave him new weapons and training, spoke of enemies that awaited humanity, and that he had to be ready in body and mind
and soul.
The only easy day was yesterday. And by the time they were finished with Colton, they molded him into something else. Colton was a killer, a soldier, and a sentinel all in one. There was only the mantra of black powder and crimson earth in his mind by the time he was deployed.
---
They were calling this situation a few things; The Red Wastes, Desolation of Ultima, the Thousand Fires, or the Creeping Ruin. High Command's official statement was that this was part of a "long, drawn-out, insidious" conspiracy in Ultima by "subversive" elements among multiple organizations and entities.
However, anyone who looked into things could easily see that this happened because of the World Eaters. No one had ever seen such a disastrous showing by one of the legions, let alone from a Primarch, but it had gotten so bad that it spiraled out of control. But to see it reach this level?
There were hundreds of worlds in open revolt, thousands of regiments having gone either rogue or claiming to be held in place, and governors were also declaring either "home rule" or martial law until further notice. The unwashed masses, either feeling the need to fight or obeying simply not to starve or die, support the rebels.
Not even considering the how and why for this situation, Army High Command ultimately ordered that all rebels, regardless of their former affiliation, were to either surrender or died for committing treason. It seemed that once that particular set of orders failed miserably, the Desolation became as close to a civil war in the Imperium than was deemed "comfortable" for the Emperor to stomach.
So, once it became apparent that this wasn't going to be resolved in one year and rebellions began to crop up, the Black Brigades were called in to assist with counter-insurgency operations. But High Command made another large series of mistakes. For starters, the Imperial Army was attempting to reorganize in the midst of their supply lines being hammered by insurgents, aliens, and deserters. So that meant the Black Brigade companies would have limited support from other Army regiments on the planet or in-system.
And that's if they remained loyal.
Next was a rather exceedingly simple problem, and that was the Black Brigades stretched thin. This wasn't an exaggeration; this was simply a fact. Most of the Brigades were reshuffled for another major operation, a long-term one at that. Colton and his unit, the 9th Suppression Company, had been rushed into combat operations within a few months of taking on the "dark chevrons," the quasi-training ribbon given to any brigader that finished their training.
It should be said, no Black Brigader was a rookie, but the final moments of mental conditioning and training needed to be ensured. Because while it took a special type of soldier to become a brigader, certain steps were necessary to help the soldier "accept" their position's gritty outlook on war and the value of human life. The sad truth was that not everyone was truly prepared for this work without a little assistance.
And it was necessary. There were dark days ahead, and naturally, it was up to the brigades to fix whatever problem was given to them...no matter how many people died to ensure it.
But the reality of the situation was daunting. The 9th Suppression Company was only 2,500 strong instead of the 15,000, which was the minimum for most companies. Word on the grapevine was that these new "Skeleton Companies" would be the norm until further notice. It was almost absurd to consider
any company within the Imperial Army being under even 100,000 troopers. About 60% of his company was made up of "untrained" Brigaders. Their psychological conditioning hadn't been completed. There were gaps in their combat training that didn't cover all aspects of counterinsurgency, nor against the type of foes they would be facing in the many and long years ahead of them.
As they prepared for deployment, new orders were coming down but only directed towards "veterans" like Colton. They were being told that it would be difficult to determine a loyalist and a rebel. They had orders to treat anyone, and command meant
anyone, as an enemy combatant. It would be up to the veterans to keep the "untested" in line. Thankfully it was going to be easier to get them to fight against a shooting enemy.
No, Colton and the others were concerned about getting them to kill women and children, which they would have to do. That wasn't an "if" that was simply a "when" for them. The odds of finding any allies were uncomfortably small now. The civilians would come to fear them, the rebels would hate them, and the traitor forces would attempt to hunt them.
All of this and possibly on worlds could become entirely isolated, leaving entire companies on their own. Colton was starting to realize why they were being provided with survivalist texts. That was nothing new, but considering that every soldier was now required to memorize as much as possibly indicated a different fear among brigade leadership.
That honestly made everyone, including Colton, anxious about what they were supposed to do in a densely populated world with limited to no backup and possibly hundreds of thousands of enemy cells, which wasn't considering support from the traitor army forces or hereteks. There was even talk about having to fight mutants, cultists, and psykers. But then again, this was what they were trained for fighting anything or anyone that was against the legal Imperial government. The Black Brigades did not fail when it came to maintaining the Imperium's stability and prosperity.
Besides, the Imperium would be sending the Astartes in soon enough.
By that point, most of the heavy fighting would be resolved by them anyway. So right now, the Black Brigades would do their job and soften up certain worlds or, spirits willing, behead some rebel forces entirely. Granted, there was a rather uncomfortable rumor, one that was getting suppressed by Army Intelligence, that the Primarch, Angron, would be relieved of duty.
There were some serious concerns that this development could cause further issues, especially if the World Eaters decided that they didn't want to see their Primarch or Legion leadership getting arrested...or executed. Well, best not to think about such things.
Colton wasn't afraid. So what if they were out-gunned or out-manned, lacking allies and fighting in extremely hostile environments? They weren't out-skilled or lacking in discipline and confidence. They expected casualties, many were expecting to die as well, but they weren't afraid. Perhaps their enemies thought them unable to do what is necessary in a war against an entire city, or hive, or even an entire world. But they would find that the Black Brigades were not above any known military tactic. Nothing would be held back now. Nothing nor anyone was sacred or safe.
Not only that...but Black Brigade command hadn't left their Skeleton Companies high-and-dry. In fact, they actually decided to send over a few "goodies" for field testing. The 9th Suppression Company was given the honor of testing out one such package.
The Kerberos Armor.
---
-Ravo Deep-
+Day 1+397 of ongoing Compliance Operations
+Operation BURNING BASTION+
+19% of Planet Pacified, 70% in Open Rebellion, 11% Barren+
There was the sound of running water; that was the first thing he noticed.
A distant part of his memories could recall coming across a river on some forgotten world during his first deployment. It was the biggest source of clean water that Colton Reyes had ever seen and he could remember just staring at it. He didn't try to jump in or drink from the river; he just watched it. He vaguely remembered seeing fish swimming around it and how serene he felt. The Imperial Army was right about one thing: joining up, you did get to visit exciting, new places.
"Hey, Colt," There was a familiar voice speaking, "Get up." Now he felt something kicking him in the leg, "Captains got a mission."
Colton Reyes opened his eyes, and he looked up at Rai Peterson, his fellow brigader, and then keenly remembered that he wasn't near any river but instead inside some destroyed and bombed-out hotel. He could hear the distant sounds of war, now an omnipresent orchestra on this planet. And the running water he heard was just a leak from some broken water pipe.
"Sorry, were you asleep?" Rai asked with a wiry grin. He sure as hell wasn't sorry, but Colt couldn't bring himself to hate such a lovely, punchable face.
As Colton got up, grabbing his rifle and his kit, he nodded, "Yeah...I think I was dreaming too."
"Yeah?" Rai was looking down at a dataslate, "Was it a good one?"
"I dreamt I was on some shithole planet called Ravo Deep." Colton finished checking his weapon and went to leave. No doubt their Captain had another mission, but the Lance Corporal was still wondering if they were getting a resupply soon.
Even with such concerns, Colton didn't need to see Rai to know that he was smirking when he heard the brigader speak up, "Was you naked?"
Colton didn't respond, opting to instead move towards Captain Garza's location on the top floor. It was all the same, but Colton smirked as well. A little bit of levity in these uncertain times never hurt.
As he exited the bombed-out room, Colton walked into the equally bombed-out hallway of this bombed-out build that was their temporary HQ for this part of the city. Colton and the rest of the 1st Platoon (1st of 10 platoons of their Skeleton Company) were currently operating inside Jade Stone City (not that anyone called it that now). The former seat of Imperial power, now the capital to the new Imperial Ravo Kingdom.
The capital of the "Imperial Ravo Kingdom" had been a burning hellscape for almost two months now, after the Imperial Armada started firebombing it three weeks into the start of the crisis on Ravo. They bombed it for almost fourteen days. And when the fires and smoke had finally cleared enough for the Imperial Army to start pacification, it meant that high command could finally take the 9th Suppression Company was off their leash.
Unfortunately, nothing was going right. Once again, Army command either underestimated the resilience of the rebels or the accuracy of their pilots. Most of Ravo was burning, and the citizens died by the hundreds of millions, but there were still at least two to three
billion pissed-off natives. The irony was that Ravo had built-in bunkers and several layered void-shield generators in certain locations. When the Imperial Army and PDF went rogue, they likely forced the tech-priests to activate the generators.
However, the Imperium still burned most of the food and water supplies on the planet. So, billions of hungry people resulted in a lot of uncertainty. Once the Imperial Army, the loyalists, mind you, announced that they had plenty of food and medicine and water...a great host of the survivors went in the direction that promised aid.
That meant that anyone who stayed outside the "green zones" and in the Red, Yellow, and Black Zones was effectively declared an enemy combatant. The Yellow Zone was contested lands, red meaning it was rebel-held, and the blacks were basically no-mans land. Naturally, most of the planet was red, and there were hardly any green zones on the map.
In short, a bunch of assholes here on the planet decided to rebel, which caused a bunch of assholes up in orbit to bomb most of the major cities, resulting in hordes of angry, starving, and armed assholes now fighting against the poor bastards trying to fix some other assholes mess. Meanwhile, the Black Brigades were now effectively sent in to kill and liquidate all known rebel positions to ensure the Imperial Army could focus on the traitor military forces before moving in to mop up and restore "order" to the zone.
So far, it hadn't worked out all that well.
"Hey, Colt!" Coltons focused on a pair of brigaders, Siyanda and Tancred, a pair of "untested" working inside one of the rooms. They were good men, but Colton had to keep a distance from them attachment-wise. They had proven themselves capable in combat, yet he needed to remember that they hadn't earned their black chevrons.
"You going to see the Captain or maybe Iceman or the LT?" The two of them were looking over a pair of modified assault stubbers, "Can you
please tell any of them we need some replacement parts? I've been trying to fix these two bastards for the past three hours, but I might as well by trying to mimic an Ork with all the good I'm doing."
"One of these jammed last night and almost killed Guile during a firefight." Siyanda spoke up quietly as he wiped his hands, "The machine spirits are angry; they need aid."
"We are all angry and in need of aid." Colton remarked flatly, "Do what you can. I'll see about asking Brad or Nate for a resupply."
Both men didn't look amused, but they went back to work. This was a common complaint, but thankfully it was just them commiserating their current situations more than anything. Everyone knew that they were in a bad situation, but not exactly a dire one. The lack of resupply was a growing problem. Food, water, ammo, parts, medicine, and even minor amenities were scarce.
Any soldier worth their salt, especially for special operations, would make due. But there was a growing point of contention that their allies were not working hard enough to get them a resupply. The last resupply had been almost three weeks ago, and even then, it was a rather abysmal one.
Pissed off soldiers meant a breakdown in discipline and morale. But for the Black Brigades, such things just made them
meaner to everyone involved. Colton wasn't worried about his men not doing their jobs. No, he was concerned about them having too much of a vested interest in it. He heard reports from some of the other platoons that some brigaders had made rather "questionable" decisions in the field.
'Best not to think of that.' Colton didn't like making excuses, but this was a war, and everyone involved that wasn't on the side of the Imperium was an enemy. Everyone that hadn't made it to the green zones or at least trying to were enemies that deserved to die. That was the punishment for traitors. Granted, even Colton recognized how badly the Imperial government botched things that led to the Desolation start.
Making he was up the hotel's ruins, more Black Brigaders were either resting, keeping watch, or just trying to relax. Colton could hear the din of conversation and vox traffic, along with the occasional artillery barrage in the distance. As he got closer to the command center, which was in a ruined ball-room, Colton could already hear a loud argument taking place.
"Shit." Colton muttered to himself as he approached the doors, where Jane and Olaf were standing guard, "Captain on the vox with command?"
"Captain on the vox with command." Jane spoke quietly and didn't look happy, "I don't think we are getting a resupply." He felt a little bad for the women of his platoon. Even with certain modifications that all brigaders received, biology still played havoc on the fairer sex in the field. She was miserable; then again, they were all
miserable.
Colton wanted to punch something, "Well, better not keep the hangman waiting."
That got a chuckle out of Olaf, "LT and Brad are inside as well. I think this is going to be a big operation, Colt."
"Good." Colton grimaced as he stepped forward, "Maybe this is a sign that command has something for us to do now."
Neither of them said anything, but they were likely thinking the same thing. These last few weeks, their platoon, hell most of the company, effectively ran a basic search and destroy missions. The last real mission that had tactical importance was the suppression and clean-up of a rebel motor pool three weeks ago. After that, the high command was trying to reorganize after a reported mutiny onboard a few of their escort ships.
Rumor had it that the transports had been carrying civilians fleeing from another system that had fallen apart. One thing leads to another, and the Imperial Armada was ordered to fire on the ships. That didn't go over well with some of the captains and resulted in a host of issues. This whole thing was spreading among Ultima. The loyalty of everyone was being questioned or put to the test.
The Black Brigades were going to be busy for a long time here in Ultima.
"I don't give a
fuck what Admiral Kelson or General Monty or if one of those fucking Astartes captains were in orbit telling us otherwise! You munitorum pukes promised us a resupply for this morning. Not tomorrow, not next week, but
this morning!" Colton sighed and steeled himself as he entered the command center. Captain Lav Garza was currently on the vox with someone, likely some rear echelon colonel in the Munitorum.
Along with 1st Sergeant Brad Higgins and Lieutenant Nate Sharman, Captain Garza was currently looking over an out-of-date map of the former capital. None of the officers glanced up at Colton as he stood at attention. None of them looked particularly pleased.
The voice on the other end of the receiver must have said the wrong thing to the captain as he looked ready to explore, "
I don't fucking care! You are sitting on ammo and weapons that most of your troopers don't even use, and you can't spare a fucking truck or two to deliver it!" He paused his ranting before he started shaking again, "You'll talk to someone higher up to expedite the process. Great, fucking amazing work. How about you talk to someone higher up so you can expedite the process of you
unfucking yourself?!"
It took all of the captains' power not to slam the receiver. They couldn't get a new one if he did, so the captain unhooked it and quietly seethed before looking down at the map, "Nate, please brief the lance corporal on the mission parameters while I try not to shoot something; in anger."
"Err, yes, sir." Nate had an awkward look on his face, but they couldn't begin to imagine the pressure the captain was facing. "Lance Corporal Reyes, be advised that this information doesn't leave the room. Failure to do so will result in an NJP and possible further punishment. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir, I understand." Well, this was new. Since when did command require A Black Brigader to swear to secrecy? Their missions were already black operations, to begin with, and especially due to the nature of their work.
"Colt," Nate spoke casually now, "There has been a development. One of our sister platoons captured a high-ranking rebel and brought them back, per the request of Army intelligence."
"Pardon me for asking, LT, but when did we start taking prisoners?"
"The same time we learned we were going to be involved in a hostage rescue." Sergeant Higgins interjected with a grimace, which caused Nate to spare a small glance towards Brad.
"Both the LT and Sergeant are correct, Colt." The captain had calmed down quickly, although Colt could still see the man was furious. "As of right now, our platoon has been tasked with a rescue mission of a VIP after Army intelligence obtained information from a rebel source of the VIP's location."
Colton was surprised, shocked even, that someone up the chain of command wanted the Black Brigades of all people to go and rescue someone. They were killers, shock troopers, the type that most other Troopers refused to mingle with if given the option. More importantly, that wasn't what they were trained for at all. Who the hell was either desperate or idiotic enough to send a bunch of wolves to rescue a lost sheep?
Even so, Colton stood at attention. He wasn't going to argue this point. Captain Garza, the LT, and Brad clearly were unhappy with the development and likely tried to argue the order themselves. But command being command had likely refused. So now it was time to make do with the shitty assignment and come out on top.
So with a grimace, Colton nodded, "Understood. What are the mission details?"
---
The governor of this planet was Berthold Pokov. His family had been the rulers of Ravo Deep for almost six centuries before the Imperiums arrival. When the World Eaters came, he did the smart thing and wisely surrendered his world to Angron's forces without a fight. For his reward, he got to take on the title of governor. Nothing changed for the better part of thirty years, that was until Angron started requested more and more troops be sent to join the Imperial Army.
Joining the Imperial Army was a common practice for many, but when it became part of the tithe towards the Imperium, things got a little murky. For Ravo Deep, a planet that mainly produced vehicles, electronics, heavy lift, and deep-space components, they figured that they wouldn't have to send tens of millions of "volunteers" into the Great Crusade.
However, the more Imperial Troopers that died, the more Angron needed. So, he made demand not so subtle to Ravo Deep, as he had to thousands of others, to kick it into high gear and start sending more troops. It wasn't that Ravo Deep wasn't incapable; it's just that they figured that they had bleed enough as it was, especially when the Mechanicum requested increased tithes and production outputs.
In short, Ravo Deep went through a worker shortage while still needing to maintain production. Tack on that, people were understandably worried about their parents, family, children, and siblings going off into space...people were scared that something was going to happen.
And something did happen...at least 86% of the Ravo Deep trooper entourage died over a period of four years, the biggest being the clusterfuck that the World Eaters started last year. Calling the situation a "disaster" was like calling an Ork Waaaggghhh a minor nuisance to a feudal world.
People got angry, and then they get
outraged. Naturally, Governor Pokov did the reasonable thing and told the population that he would get justice for their world. Unfortunately, Berthold Pokov wasn't about to challenge the World Eaters, so he did the "smart" thing and ordered the PDF to go active and requested support from the local Imperial Army garrison.
Instead, both groups decided to start fighting each other, claiming that the government had failed them and that they weren't going to shoot unarmed civilians that were "understandably" upset and asking for decency and justice for those who died under incompetent leadership. It was one thing to hear a government say such a thing, but hearing an entire population going off their rocker upon learning that the World Eaters were directly the reason behind it...it was impossible to hide, especially once disgruntled Troopers started leaking information.
The citizens then found out that Governor Pokov was selling them out and started demonstrating against him. That, in turn, caused him to panic and ordered the PDF to respond to the "rioters," which, in turn, caused mass desertions among the PDF. Finally, the Imperial Army got called in to handle things, which resulted in the Imperial Admiral and Generals decided that the rebels needed a heavy-handed response in the form of selective air-bombings.
It was overkill to start bombing civilian centers, but it was madness to start firebombing several locations. By then, the people had enough, as did the PDF. Traitor forces stormed the Governor's Palace. Berthold was off-world, but his family was still inside the palace. There were reports of executions, and the governor had enough. He gave the Imperial Army and Armada garrison to do what was necessary to the "animals" in the cities.
No surprise then when a civil war broke out here on Ravo Deep, and then word reached everyone that a host of other worlds were going traitor, along with Imperial Army and Armada forces. Meanwhile, the World Eaters were scrambling to get their own house in order. All this happened almost ten months ago.
So imagine Colton's surprise when they learned that the governors' daughter was alive. She must have been escorted out just in time by loyalists but could not escape towards friendly lines by the time the fire-bombings started. By that point, communication was over, and supplies were running out. The Black Brigades heard things were awful during the first five months.
The daughter and now sole surviving scion of the Pokov family must have gotten captured at some point, that or the rebels didn't know they had her until most recently. From what Captain Graza told Colton, the rebels would quietly give her back to her father in exchange for him giving the rebels all information on Imperial Army forces on the planet.
From what Colton learned, Berthold had been in talks with the rebels for almost two weeks now...someone wasn't going to be governor for too long, or at least that is what Captain Garza initially thought. It seemed that Army command was willing to make a deal with Berthold in exchange for him ceding all remaining power to a leader of their choice.
Personally, Colton would've put a bullet in Berthold's head for treason, but he didn't have the fancy ribbons and titles on his chest to make the decision. Instead, the Black Brigades of the 9th Company were tasked with getting this information and now securing her safety.
Colton, along with six other brigaders, was going to lead the rescue mission. Simultaneously, the rest of his squad and the entire 9th Company engaged a dozen rebel locations to keep the rebels off-balance and preoccupied. It sounded easy enough on paper; snatch and grab, kill anyone that gets in the way, and escort their VIP to a prepared landing zone for a valkyrie.
Yet everyone knew going into this operation that this wasn't going to be an easy one. A Black Brigader wasn't a hero or the type of person that risks their lives for some traitor's offspring. They were here to kill and bring order and law back to this world. However, they were still soldiers, and soldiers obey.
At the very least, this wasn't them needing to gun down civilians. So that was something, at least.
Either way, Army command gave the mission the go-ahead. More importantly, Colton and PFCs Stevenson and Yao were going in equipped with the Kerberos Armor.
That armor was...something else. On paper, it was really just a suit of motorized and mechanized carapace armor. But it felt and worked like power armor than anything else. The technology was simple, outrageously so; however, the materials and design were state-of-the-art.
Sergeant Higgins told Colton that it was called the "Panzer" by design, but Kerberos was used intermittently. The armor design was strange. It had protect-gear backplates consisting of thin sheets of rolled homogenous titanium plate underneath (and supporting the weight of) the ammunition backpack, compared to the frontal armor, which is a rather more sophisticated composite material of ceremite woven with some carbon fiber strands.
The backplates protect decently well against shrapnel, i.e., from a fragmentation grenade or a rocket, and offered limited protection against flame weapons and most basic small arms. Something had to give, as this was, supposedly, a mass production design. Rumor had it that this design was also "stolen" from a project related to some "arbites" and originally meant riot use. But it looks someone took the design and reformed it for heavy assault units.
After that, the rest of the design incorporated photo-visors, limited exo-muscle, integrated vox-caster, and was rated against bio and chemical weapons. The damn thing was difficult to move around in, clunky and heavy as well, but the added protection was worth it. Not only that, the backpack ammo carried enough ammo for the belt-fed heavy-assault stubbers each brigade had to lug around. Granted, you could always use regular small arms if you no passion for violence.
The biggest problem at this point was that the armor was difficult to maintain. Oh, you can figure it out as it wasn't the most advanced thing, but the material components and replacement parts proved to be a difficult task. A tech-priest might fix or cannibalize other things to fix the systems or components, but they were ultimately attempting to piece together a working suit of armor on prayer and whatever scraps they could find out here.
Somehow, Colton found that visual to be a metaphor for this entire situation.
---
"Look at this shithole," Jane commented as they drove through the ruined streets of the planet's former capital, "You think anyone is actually going to spend time and money rebuilding this place?"
It had been seven hours since Colton had been giving his briefing by the others. During that time, he and the rest of his impromptu unit headed towards the suspected rebel location. They were deep in the red zone now, but they were driving around in a recovered rebel truck, so they had some form of camouflage.
Colton saw that the former capital was effectively a ruined city. It would take a generation to rebuild everything. The scars of the war were also growing in scale. As they passed by a burnt-out Chimera, he started to realize that amount of unexploded ordinance in the city was likely another hazard.
The distant sound of gunfire and artillery was quite present now, the familiar sounds of a warzones "ecosystem" after all these months.
"Nearly nine months of fighting and we aren't aware close to get this place under control." Yao shook his head, "What a waste."
Rai snorted as he looked over the vox-caster on of the Kerberos suits, "What, you don't like getting to shoot traitors?"
"It wouldn't be necessary if there were someone in charge that knew what they were doing," Yao remarked quietly as they passed by what looked to be a long-destroyed schola bus. Colton thought he could see some skeletons in the seats, but that might have been his mind playing tricks on him.
"Never pet a burning dog." Colton finally spoke up as they passed more and more ruins, stretching what seemed like endlessly across his vision. His squad gave him a strange look, but Colton activated his micro-bead to reach their truck driver, "Pax, what is the distance to the drop-off point?"
A brief bit of static followed, "
Less than two kilcks, I advise getting ready to get out."
Colt looked over at Rai and Stevenson, "Are the suits ready?"
"As they'll ever be." Rai shook his head, "Maybe if those fucks up in orbit all the materials and parts we needed actually sent them down, I'd be a lot more confident. Instead, I've had to try and fix components with what amounts to tape and gum. Meanwhile, we have no good lubricant for the stubbers, so keep that in mind if you decide to go full auto for more than twenty fucking seconds."
The more he heard, the more Colt grimaced, "Is there any good news?"
"I fixed up the front armor plating and even added a reflective coating to it, supposed to help reduce the force of a las bolt by like...20%? So, that's something."
"That's a whole lot of nothing than something," Colton remarked while Rai gave a crooked smile and shrugged. At the very least, he was keeping a positive attitude given their current situation.
"Hey, look at it this way. You probably won't need it. The rebels are storing all their good weapons for the real battles. Isn't it nice to know we don't qualify for being the biggest threat to these assholes?"
Rai did have a point, somewhat.
Only a few of the rebel groups were using las weapons these days. Granted, any encounters with the former Imperial Army units would prove quite deadly. The rebels were smart enough to keep their actual military-grade weapons around and only be used against the loyal Army forces.
Colton wasn't sure if he should've been annoyed or not that the Black Brigades didn't warrant such a response yet, even after a year. The rebels indeed feared them, but the Black Brigades weren't the ones rolling around with tanks and aircraft. Besides, once the Astartes arrived, the traitor troopers would need every advantage available to them.
"Do we at least have plenty of ammo for the stubbers?"
This time Rai nodded and gestured towards the three ammo backpacks, "1,600 rounds, or about 800 per barrel. These twin-linked stubbers eat ammo like crazy, you know." They did, but they also tore apart most enemies within seconds. Even light carapace wasn't safe from them. Colton suspected that even Solar Auxilia armor wouldn't save the wearer if he got enough shots off in time. That was the trade-off, high rate of fire and firepower vs. ammo supply and component burnout.
"Watch your footing as well." Rai spoke up again as he started to double-check the ammo in one of the backpacks, "The recoil compensators only provide so much stability. Remember, my dear Colton, aim down and pull up as you fire!"
Kerberos armor and its weapons required a fair amount of training and experience. Colton had nearly three hundred of experience in the armor since landing on this forsaken world. Colton also developed a lot of arm strength these days. He could probably arm wrestle a scout from one of the Astartes legions.
"
Coming up on the insertion point," Pax called out on vox, "
So far, so good. No foot mobiles or moving vecs. Rebels are either asleep at the wheel, or they are way too overconfident."
"Copy Pax," Colton looked at the others now, "Mission parameters are now in effect. Callsigns for this mission is Hitman. We'll suit up once we make our way inside the rebel 'compound' upon clearing the infiltration point."
"Err, sir?" Jane spoke up now, "Where exactly is the rebel hideout?"
Now Colton grimaced. He kept this part for them for the obvious reason, "Inside a sewer network." He could see all of them groan, "If it helps, we will be getting permission to head to the Army lines for a day of R&R when we return."
"Hope that includes a shower." Rai rolled his eyes as he started getting the equipment ready to move, "Jane, Yao, and Arnold help me get this shit ready to move."
As Colton started going over the plan in his head, he took another look outside. They passed by what looked to be the remains of a statue dedicated to the Pokov Family. He could briefly make out some graffiti painted white and large across the body of the statue...
We will have a future!
The more they fought against the rebels, the more Colton recognized that these people truly believed that they were justified in their rebellion. The Imperium failed them, or at least one of the Primarchs did, which made them think that that they had a good enough reason to rise in revolt. It would be up to the Black Brigades to remind them that the Imperium would not tolerate treason, even if they had to kill half the planet to do so.
"
We're here," Pax called as their truck began to slow down, "
Get ready to dismount."
Colton looked at the others, "Black Powder, Crimson Earth."
"Black Powder, Crimson Earth." They all chanted back. It was time to go to work.
The plan was simple. The three Kerberos armors would act as the distraction while the remaining four brigaders would move towards obtaining the hostage. This mission had enough intelligence of enemy composition and the layout of the sewers to make this work. Really, the problem was going to be the rebels. From what Imperial Army had gathered, there were close to five or six hundred enemies in this particular stretch of sewers.
All he, Yao, and Stevenson had to do was act the part of the distraction.
Easy enough.
---
Two hours later...
Colton heard an annoying ringing sound inside his helmet, which made him want to almost puke. It was also a little hard to breathe, and his entire body felt sore for some reason. What had he been doing? His vision was swimming as he tried to make sense of what was going on around him.
There was another sound in his right ear; it sounded like a voice yelling him? The ringing started to subside, and Colton started to hear what sounded like gunfire and the occasional explosive around him, 'What the hell...?'
He heard the voice a little more now, "
...Hitman Actual, come in!" It sounded urgent, "
Colt, can you hear me?!"
Once his vision focused, Colton realized that he was in the middle of a firefight. Some disgusting muck covered his body, along with some debris. Just what the hell had happened? Instinct and training kicked into gear, causing Colton to hoist himself up with all his strength and looking for any available targets. He saw what looked to be dozens of muzzle flashes at an unknown distance. His mind screamed at him that those weren't brigader guns, so Colton lifted and pointed his assault stubber towards the flashes.
Colton pressed down the trigger, and a torrent of lead sprayed from his assault stubber. It should've been noted that unlike the normal .50 or .30 caliber chambered cartridge. The brigades used a 12.7mm type of bullet. The difference in stopping power was noticeable, but Colton found it still killed just about anyone as any .30 or .50 caliber casing.
The gun roared as he "aimed" the weapon towards the firing line. Colton barely had time to register what looked to be something heading his from his attacker. 'Rocket!' Colton forced his still sluggish to move enough just in time to "dodge" the rocket-propelled grenade and let it fly by his head. The explosion he felt two seconds later went relatively unnoticed as he continued to spray down at the enemy line.
Rai's voice frantically called out over vox, "
Hitman Actual, if you can hear this, we need to pull out now!"
He had to agree with that tactical assessment because he was in a bind no matter how much Colton tried to fight back against his current foes.
So as he made a tactical withdraw, Colton tried to recall what exactly happened.
---
It had been easy, real easy. They could locate their target within an hour of moving through the capital sewers, which were relatively untouched from the firebombing. That meant their maps were accurate. The intel was also good, but only to a certain extent. Everyone had failed to realize that this location was also the gathering point for an entire refugee column. There were at least 10,000 people and a much large rebel presence.
But it got far worse.
There was a small company of traitor forces, elements from the 62nd Epionin Vanguardians. The 62nd had gone rogue about two months ago, and they were currently fighting against loyalist forces about 50 kilometers away from the capital. It looked like the bastards had decided to start recruiting among the civilians. That didn't matter. What did matter was that there were 200 additional rifles among the nearly 1,000 strong rebel forces. Plus, the 62nd were experienced urban warfare experts from a hiveworld.
When they reported this development back to Garza and the others, they clarified that the hostage situation was now
secondary to getting this "recruitment camp" liquidated. There was no way that Colton's team, even the entire 9th Company, could kill this many people. But they didn't have too, because that was what the Imperial Armada was for, especially once Captain Garza would report there were working on creating more weapons for the rebels.
One might ask, "Was that true?"
Colton would respond with, "Does it matter?"
In any case, they would have to cannibalize one of the vox-casters to act as the beacon for the bombers that were now being prepared, so now they were on a time limit. They had about an hour, maybe 45 minutes, or two hours. You never knew when the Imperial Armada was going going to arrive these days.
Still, they were in a hazardous situation now. Colton gave the go-ahead for the other units to take the beacon, find the hostage, and activate the coded transmission. Some of the Untested were comfortable with this development, but they were able to stomach it since they wouldn't be the ones needing to shoot anyone.
It was quite easy to logic out a massacre if it was done by somebody else and out of sight and mind.
The plan changed on the fly then. Colton decided that it would be easier for the brigaders to move the crowds covertly and secure their target due to the refugee's size. Once then, they would fall back to their entry point. Meanwhile, the Kerberos-equipped team would instead act as a barrier for the extracting team. They set up a crossfire pattern, keeping the rebels or the Vanguardians pinned long enough to make a fighting retreat.
By the time Colton and the others reached the surface, they would be long gone, and their enemies would only see a retreat truck or be down below when the airstrike hit the refugees.
Now, one might ask, how exactly do you find a specific target inside a camp of thousands and with a limited time frame? Easy, you look for the most important person unguarded, capture them swiftly, and torture them for information. Jane and Rai got lucky; they found a drunk rebel "sergeant" and got him to talk, all within twenty minutes. The hostage was being kept inside a secured storage facility inside the sewer nexus point. The second they broke in there, it was going to go loud.
So, they had to wait just a little bit longer. They were cutting this extremely close once they hit the 45-minute mark. That airstrike would be right on top of them any minute now. It could've been in the next five or thirty minutes. Once again and to the brigades' benefit, the Imperial Armada proved ineffective, and there wasn't an airstrike by the time they breached and moved to secure their target.
Things got loud soon after, but Rai had his distraction in mind. He placed a few remote-controlled explosives near the fueling center. By the time the extraction team got noticed, Rai had caused a fairly large explosion that likely killed a few people, but more importantly, it caused a small panic as thousands started to think they were under attack.
In hindsight, that might have been a slight tactical error on the part of the brigade. The rebels would start to escort people away from the blast zone. However, the blast zone would cover about 500 square meters. So, it was still far too little and far too late to really save anyone.
Minutes passed slowly, all of them waiting for the other shoe to drop or for another problem to occur. They were playing one of the most dangerous gambits imaginable; a hostage rescue with some dangerously close ordinance on the way. Colton couldn't help but enjoy the adrenaline at how crazy this situation was going to be in a few minutes.
"
Hitman Actual, this is Hitman-01; we are inbound on extraction route. We have at least five-zero heavily armed foot-mobiles trailing behind us. ETA is two mikes. How copy?"
"Solid copy." Yao and Stevenson heard the message as well, "Just pass through the kill-zone, and we'll take care of the rest." They had a good position now. They were outside of the airstrikes range now. So once it actually landed, reinforcements were going to dry up pretty quickly.
As they waited, Colton rechecked his chrono. The airstrike would occur within the next five or so minutes. A protracted firefight was still favorable to the Kerberos unit, but they were going to go through ammo like crazy. Still, they just had to kill or suppress enough of the rebels.
Yao, Stevenson, and Colt were ready. "
Hitman Actual, we have a problem! We see an additional two-zero foot-mobiles! Confirmed to be Vanguadrians! I see at least six, I say again, six infantry with plasma weapons and RPGs!" Okay, things were getting a bit hairy now.
"Confirmed." Colton calmly remarked over vox, "Nothing we can do about that. Continue to proceed towards the extraction point."
So they had seventy-plus infantry, six or more that might have plasma weapons and rockets, bearing down on them. Most of whom are likely quite angry at the Black Brigades for numerous reasons.
'Well, I'm sure they are about to get quite cagey in the next few minutes.' Colton checked his chrono one last time, loaded the belt-fed assault stubber, and waited for the show to start.
---
Five minutes passed by, and still no airstrike.
The extraction team appeared briefly in the darkness. Colton saw them with the photo-visors, carrying an unknown woman, and hurriedly past their position in the sewers. Rai left behind a few glow-worms, leading their pursuers towards the prepared kill-zone. 'Good old Rai.'
Within a minute, Colton could hear dozens of infantry on approach. "Wait for the first group to pass, gun down anyone that looks to have a plasma or an RPG," Colton ordered to Yao and Stevenson. Both men knew who this went, but right now, they needed to make their shots count. Even if thirty of the rebels made it past the kill-zone, Rai and the others would take care of them easily. But taking out the plasma and RPG units was more important for all their survival.
As expected, they saw a veritable swarm of rebels moving into their kill-zone. They wore mismatched uniforms and carried an assortment of weapons. Colton and the others would've easily mowed these traitors down, and they'd be hungry for more. 'Not worth our bullets, not yet anyway.'
No, it was when the next group of moving targets appeared that got their attention. A squad of Vanguardians, two of which had plasma guns, moving with a group of twenty or so rebels. 'Jackpot.' If they took out this team, it would ensure that the hostage team wouldn't have any plasma-gun armed traitors on their tail. That was practical reason anyway.
"Prepare to fire on my mark." Colton called out over vox as he pulled back the bolt-latch of the stubber, "Aim for the Vanguardians. Traitors in the uniforms die first." And that was the symbolic one. Traitors
always die first.
There were now 36 enemies in a prepared crossfire, with three Black Brigades having a different angle on them. The fates were cruel to these men, yet they blessed the brigaders.
"Go loud." Colton pressed down on the modified hair-trigger, and both barrels went loud. Two simultaneous roars followed Colts own, with all three weapons firing several hundred rounds within seconds towards 36 enemies in the open. They had no chance. It was like shooting fish in a barrel or that he could've done this with his eyes closed. It made Colton think of those times they would shoot surrendering rebels and civilians that were deemed "hostile" by their ROE.
Unlike those times, Colton might have laughed in this particular situation.
Instead, he basked in the lights of the gunfire. A flicker of light every nano-second, followed by the sounds of bullets hitting flesh and the screams of the dying. He saw one or two attempts at return, the Vanguardians even firing off a round from the plasma-gun. The feeling of the assault stubber rumbling in his arms. That he was ending the life of traitors and rebels, those that wanted to ruin the Imperium, to ruin humanity's only chance now at peace and salvation.
Colton didn't care if these people or his allies considered him a monster. He was doing what had to be necessary to safeguard the hard-earned peace. Someone had to do the dirty jobs. Spilling the blood of one's enemies to ensure a future was a tried and true tactic.
The flash of black powder, followed by the crimson earth, ensured future peace.
In less than a minute, all 36 enemies were dead, torn to pieces. All three brigaders moved into position. They needed to get going. Any minute now, the airstrike would be on their heads. Colton ordered that Yao cover their rear while Stevenson and Colt would press forward.
Besides, if any of those rebels chasing the extraction team decided to fall back on their position, it would be their funeral.
"Colton, we got lots of tangos!" Yao called out as he started firing down one of the sewers halls. Colton didn't respond, instead of moving to cover Yao while Stevenson cleared their path out.
A few minutes later, they ended up about a hundred meters from their extraction point. They must have killed another dozen men, but the rebels and traitors were pressing forward. They already had been hit several times by longarm caliber weapons, and once or twice a few plasma or las bolts passed by them.
It was around this point that their luck ran out. They saw the Vanguardians pressing forward, throwing smoke grenades, and laying down suppressive fire for the rebels to move forward. Yao, Stevenson, and Colt moved towards new positions and prepared to make a stand. They just needed to buy the extraction team enough time to escape and-
Suddenly, the ground rumbled...then the sewers themselves started to shake violently. The Armada's airstrike had finally hit, but this didn't feel right. This felt way more powerful than a few bombers.
That was when he heard the vox transmission, "
HOLY SHIT, ALPHA ACTUAL THE ARMADA JUST FIRED A DEATHSTRIKE!"
Colton felt the ground rumbling harder, faster, and within seconds he realized that the entire sewer system, the very city itself, was
shaking to its very foundations. Unfortunately for Colton, he overlooked the Vanguardian with a missile launcher, not a rocket launcher, but an actual anti-armor missile launcher.
He had a few seconds to realize that it was aimed at him. He moved, but by the time he got out of the way, the wall that was about three meters behind him exploded with enough force to shatter the front armor of an Olympia, and Colton lost consciousness.
---
That had been about ten or so minutes ago, but then again, what did it matter now?
Everything came back to Colton as he fired at the Vanguardians and rebels. He looked around and saw Yao dragging Stevenson, who was thankfully still alive and conscious, but his left leg looked completely mangled. The brigader was covering his compatriot with his assault stubber, firing in the direction of the bastards trying to kill them.
"Colt!" Yao called out over the din of battle, "We're getting swarmed here!"
Colton was running low of his current belt, and it would take a good ten or so seconds to reload, "Go, I'll cover your retreat!" He went back to suppressing anything in front of him.
"Boss!" Stevenson called out as he tossed his assault stubber. Colt saw that it still had half a belt of ammo left, "Better than nothing!"
Colton took the time to grab the other stubber. "Thanks, now get moving!" As he pulled up the other assault stubber, Colt had a stupid idea as he hefted both machine guns up. No unaugmented human would ever do something so stupid as this.
But Colton didn't consider himself a smart man, so without much preamble, he braced himself against a nearby wall and just started firing
two assault stubbers down towards the enemy. His accuracy was deplorable, but Colton didn't need to hit anything, keep the enemy pinned.
Another pair of rockets missed him, causing the already destroyed foundations caused by the Deathstrike to collapse further. One of the walls next to Colton collapsed completely, sewer water was starting to rise, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to see anything from the dust and debris in his cramped space.
He needed to get out of here and soon.
When he ran out of ammo for his stubber, he was almost grateful. His arms were killing him. As he placed the empty weapon away, he took the time to start slowly retreating while firing controlled bursts down the hall. The sewer continued to fall apart around him. This was actually keeping him alive, as the enemy wasn't taking any chances.
"
Hitman-Actual, we are at the truck! It's barely working. I think it got flipped by the blast! But it can get us the rest of the way! Got topside within the next few minutes, or we are taking off without you." Colton smirked behind his helmet; Rai wasn't letting any personal connections get in the way of the mission.
But Colton wasn't planning on getting stuck here. Once he realized that only a few people were still shooting at him, he did the most dangerous thing and turned his back to them. You can't really run in Kerberos armor, but you could at least fast-walk in it.
'This damn thing needs something to help with mobility, damn it!' Colton promised that if he survived this, he'd actually write a field test review for the armor and hope that whatever tech-priest read them took his information seriously.
As Colton made his way to the extraction, he finally caught up to Yao and Stevenson, "We clear?!"
"Not if we stay inside this place!" Colton shouted back as he walked over to the two and helped with moving Stevenson, "At this point, if anyone shoots in the back, I doubt they are doing so with plasma-guns." Yao and Stevenson didn't argue with Colton.
Fate is a funny thing because they came across a few survivors as they approached their extraction point. They were rebels alright, but Rai and his team must've obliterated most of them. These poor bastards had no idea what was happening and no idea if these three were here to kill them off.
"F-freeze!" There were six of them; the biggest weapon they had was an autogun, "Put your-your weapons down and hands up!"
Colton groaned, which sounded quite intimidating through the rebreather mask. The three brigaders stopped, which caused Stevenson to groan. 'We don't have time for this.'
As he turned around and looked at the lead rebel, he shrugged before he spoke, "Understood. Here is my weapon." He then
tossed the assault stubber towards the stunned men. The lead one had to drop his weapon and fumbled at trying to grab the LMG.
Colton, Yao, and even Stevenson then pulled out their service pistols and promptly shot all six of them within a few seconds. One had only to remember that each Black Brigader was worth a
hundred of these rebels. "Right, let's get back to moving!" Colton remarked as he quickly retrieved his stubber.
"Nice shooting, Colt," Stevenson observed before groaning as Yao and Colt got ready to lift him.
"I appreciate the compliment, Stevenson but killing bewildered and defeated rebels isn't exactly what I'd call a challenge."
Yao laughed, the rebreather distorting the sound, "More of a challenge than shooting women and children."
He wasn't wrong there. "Let's just get topside now."
---
As they made their way to the top, Colton could see that it was dark outside. Considering it was mid-afternoon when they started, he knew what was causing this event. Dragging Stevenson to the top, Colton was the first to see the dust and ash in the air. He was grateful that he was wearing the Kerberos Armor now.
"Shit," Colton muttered as he looked over to see the last remnants of what was likely the mushroom cloud from the Deathstrike. That wasn't anywhere near the rebel base, probably an entire kilometer or two off...but it didn't matter in the end. It wasn't impossible to visualize what likely happened in that one instance.
Anyone could find footage of atomics and the destruction they brought. But a Deathstrike was a completely different beast. A Deathstrike missile was a carefully constructed and precision weapon. It did not contaminate like a rad bomb or fry electronics with the EMP, but rather it was just a concentrated and destructive release of energies in one bright, hot moment.
While not on the level of a city-killer, the raw destructive power would've destroyed what remained of what Colton might have thought a once-proud city. Its ruins, an already bombed out and burnt wreckage, was now a shadow of nothing. One moment, the city of ruins stood, its crumbling edifices still showcasing what it once was. Now, there was only burning metal, rockcrete, and memories.
Anyone that had been unlucky enough to be outside when it hit likely saw a second sun bloomed in the sky and a blinding flash and thunderous boom that then threw all that still stood near the city to the ground. A flash of flame and dust ballooned into a mushroom-shaped cloud that rose into the air. The ruins, suspended as if anticipating the finale, fell from their heights to the earth.
There were once ruins, but rubble, and soon even that would return to be debris and trash of a different age for Ravo Deep. There would be no rebuilding here. It was a tomb, now and forever. And within that rubble, there was fire and ash, smoke and ruin. Within a matter of seconds, the ruins aged thousands of years, and the last of cloud rose further into the sky, signaling the death it had wroth before it would vanish into the atmosphere but linger in the minds of the people, forever.
The trio heard the sounds of a truck's horn honking as they finished getting topside. They looked over and saw that their truck had indeed seen better fucking days. As the vehicle came to a halt, the driver's window rolled down, and the smiling face of Rai stared back at them, "You boys need a ride?"
Yao was already moving Stevenson to the back of the truck; Colton signaled with his hands at Rai, "Truck looks a little run down."
"Well fuck you, buddy!" Rai remarked before opening the side passenger door, "I'll have you know, this thing survived a fucking Deathstrike blast!"
Quickly making his way to the other side, Colton struggled to get inside due to the armor, "All jokes aside, we need to get the fuck out of here. Can this thing make it to the extraction point?"
"I don't know, but I'm going to try!" Once everyone was onboard, Rai started driving, "Strap in everyone! Time to hightail it out of here."
As they speed off, Colton activated his comms, "Everyone okay?"
To his relief, everyone reported back relatively fine. Pax lost a few fingers while Jane took a bullet through the right arm, and Arnold broke a few ribs. Their target, a Mizi Pokov, was shaken and terrified but alive and well. They had succeeded.
The Imperium won
this battle.
Colton looked out towards the burning ruins and shook his head, "Some victory."
"What was that?" Rai asked as he kept driving through the now completely ruined streets.
"Nothing." Colton slumped into his seat, quite tired now, "Nothing at all."
---
They reached the extraction point. Colton would never meet Mizi Pokov, and he didn't care. As soon as they arrived, a detachment of Solar Auxilia from the Imperial Armada arrived in a modified Arvus instead of a Valkyrie and rushed her off to safety within a few minutes of the Black Brigades arriving.
Colton met with some lieutenant, who told Colton that they would be in touch with Captain Garza and the rest of the 9th Company and that the admiralty was proud of what they had accomplished. Colton wanted to tell this pissant lieutenant to shave his thanks up his ass, but what was the point.
Instead, Colton just awkward stared at the lieutenant, enjoying the awkward, squirming look as the man stared back at the blood-red optics in the midst of the burning, ash-filled landscape. Figuring it was better to leave now, the lieutenant thanked him for his time and promptly retreated. Soon he would be back up with the Imperial Armada in orbit where they were safe to decide who else would deserve to have Deathstrike missile dropped on their hands.
Meanwhile, Colton and his exhausted and wounded team were left with a burnt-out truck and now required to return to their frontlines.
As he watched the Arvus take off, Checking on the rest of his unit, he saw that everyone was tired and trying to catch a bit of rest, but they remained attentive all the same.
Each of them nodded at Colton. The "untested" members were a bit rattled, but they still handled themselves well enough. They would make excellent Black Brigaders in due time. But for now, they had to get back "home" for the debrief.
Colton got back into the truck, fighting with the broken side door, while Rai chuckled and shook his head, "Fucking Armada pukes."
"Rai..."
"No, it's fine that if we had been just a few minutes more effective, we'd have all died from being topside." Rai started to rant as he started driving, "Because it wasn't like we were told it was going to be an airstrike or something."
His words weren't wrong, but it wasn't helping the headache, "Rai."
"And maybe, just maybe, if those fucks were going to bomb the city
again, they could've at least told us the frontline units."
"Rai!" Colton remarked one last time, "...please stop talking."
He shook his head and rolled his eyes, "Fair enough. I might as well watch the road anyway. Probably a couple of IEDs and landmines around here anyway..."
Such a lovely thought aside, Colton needed time to let his mind adjust and consider whatever the hell just happened and what was going to happen next. Captain Garza and the others were going to be pissed, as was the rest of the 9th Company. This was beyond unacceptable...if their units had been deep inside fighting while this happened, that would've resulted in hundreds of casualties.
There would be a reckoning, but not anytime soon or anything that Colton would ever see. When it came to factional politics in the Imperium of Man, you had to be pretty high up there even to recognize that they were happening. However, he suspected that incidents like this would not be acceptable for too long somewhere down the line.
---
Six hours later...
Their arrival back at base was a hushed affair. As a last joke upon them all, the truck finally broke down about ten meters away from the hotel. Rai would've laughed, but he was just too tired now. The rest of the Black Brigades that greeted them were exhausted but all smiles at seeing everyone return in relatively good condition and with a mission success under their belt.
Unfortunately, there were still problems. 1st Platoon suffered casualties, including two deaths and nine wounded. The other nine platoons suffered similar fates, but it was the 7th Platoon that suffered almost 57 dead and 109 wounded.
They were near the blast zone. Captain Garza was beyond furious. The entire 9th Company was furious. He and another squad were currently heading back towards Imperial lines and getting a shuttle prepared so he could speak directly to the other brigade commanders and then the admirals and generals who decided to call down that Deathstrike.
It wasn't the deaths of those brigaders that pissed everyone off; it was the lack of communication among the chain of command. This was beyond unacceptable, especially since they were told it was going to be a concentrated airstrike. The 9th Company had lost almost 80 men in one battle, and it was due to their own allies' friendly fire.
Something had to give; else, they were going to lose this war. There wasn't a chance in hell that they could be fighting each other and the enemy at once.
"What do you think they are going to do?" Jane asked as she and the rest of Hitman Squad were resting in the med-bay.
"I hope Colonel Kellan kills someone," Arnold spoke up as he smoked a lho stick, "Fucking idiots. Do us all a favor."
Rai was sipping some hot soup, "Now-now Arnold, that is some treasonous talk."
"Fuck that." Arnold muttered to himself, "When did it become treason to call out bad superiors?"
Colton had enough, "Arnold...just let it go." He grabbed a cup of water, "That goes for all of you. Just let it go. No point complaining about having pet a burning dog. What's done is done." That was a lie, though, and Colton knew it. He was pissed off too, but Brad and the LT told him to help reduce possible morale loss among his men. The Imperial forces needed to be unified, and they needed to trust their superiors to do their jobs.
"The fuck does that mean?" Stevenson asked from his cot. He was going to be shipped back towards Imperial lines for a new leg. The lucky bastard would have a few days of R&R via medical leave.
"Something I heard Sergeant Matsui say once. It's just another way of saying that you got burned for being an idiot." He took a sip of some stale water and grimaced, "Just do better, I guess."
"Colt," Yao spoke up as he laid on his cot, staring up at the broken ceiling, "When we succeed at these missions that we aren't trained for, and by all rights are extremely dangerous, all it shows to the brass is that they can get away with assigning them out to us." Yao looked over at Colton, "We are just encouraging bad decision-making."
"A-fucking-men." Arnold muttered again.
The Lance Corporal didn't have a response to that because it was true. This mission proved that they could assign the Black Brigades for other missions, the type that they weren't trained for because they were special forces; they should be able to pull it off. Damn right, they could pull it off, but it wasn't their job. All they were doing was encourage commands recklessness.
Finishing off his stale water, Colton got up and grabbed his gear, "I'm going to get some sleep. I suggest the rest of you do so as well."
He didn't bother waiting to hear their responses. Colton had a lot on his mind anyway. Especially once he heard that the Kerberos armor would be out of commission for a while now. All three armors were heavily damaged, and their assault stubbers needed new parts as well. What a shitshow today had turned into now.
As he made his way towards his "room," Colton looked out towards the desolate landscape of the former capital of Ravo Deep. It was deathly silent now. The wind was blowing across open wounds as they burned into the night. He could see hundreds of fires still, which would likely continue into the next afternoon.
"What a waste." He muttered as he sat down near a small alcove close to the busted pipes. Colton didn't care about how many died, fuck all those traitors and rebels. No, he cared about how they were going to win this war and become masters of an ash heap. How many generations would it take to rebuild this world? Would the Imperium even try to?
The people of this world wanted a better future. Now they weren't ever getting it, but then again, neither was the Imperium either.
He suspected that while the capital's death was considered a minor setback, all it would do was enflame the fires of rebellion even more now. Oh, the people would be scared, but fear was a powerful motivation to fight back. That was why the Black Brigades existed...to crush that courage and to do so from the shadows. When people could not see or confront their fear, paranoia and despair would set in, and they would crumble, unable to identify and conceptualize it.
But those idiots up in orbit ruined the illusion. The people of Ravo Deep would fight back for generations to come. The Ultima Desolation would remain an intact memory here for the next thousand years. Colton could only hope that similar events were not playing out across the World Eaters domain. Because if so, then it would be a long and grueling campaign to destroy the spirit of rebellion and treason across these stars.
And if it spread...Colton didn't want to imagine spending the next ten or twenty years fighting across Ultima. He was prepared to do it, but that didn't mean he wanted to. But the only easy day was yesterday. The Black Brigades would persevere in the face of the struggles ahead.
Those words echoed in his mind as he allowed himself to drift off to sleep...Colton didn't dream of the river this time.
Instead, he saw the Kerberos Armor...staring back at him with fire and blood-red eyes. It was holding up a gun, but it wasn't pointing it towards him.
No, Kerberos held it up for Colton to take it.
The brigader didn't hesitate.
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@Daemon Hunter Okay, here we go.
