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This is the introduction to a little story I'm writing for the background of my new Veteran-based Guard army, the Phobosian Doomguard. The inspiration is rather obvious, and I've taken some pains to model the army after the Space Marines from DOOM, scraping up custom helmets and using parts from several different models for each soldier.
This just sets the scene for where they will be operating, so enjoy!
Oh, and sorry about the last part. Couldn't help it.
EDIT: (As for me, I'm just a big lurker. Check out dat post count :3)
To: Lord Inquisitor G. Rorschach (For Information: 3/4 Phobosian Doomguard)
From: Interrogator D. Haig
Subject: Deimos anomaly warp interference/request for removal of Mechanicus control
Message format: Delay astropath feed
Fluctuations in the anomaly have exceeded levels set by your lordship. Mechanicus command has revoked my nominal command and continues to experiment with the teleportation matrix. They have succeeded in sending and receiving biological matter with a 9% rate of success. Threat of daemonic incursion is now majoris, symptoms of temporary minor possession manifest in security forces. Request authority to purge personnel and assume overall command.
Better crippled in body than corrupt in mind, faithful Interrogator D. Haig
To: Interrogator D. Haig
From: Lord Inquisitor G. Rorschach
Subject: re: Deimos anomaly warp interference/request for removal of Mechanicus control
Message format: Delay astropath feed
Take heed of the following:
-You are remove Archmagos Betruger from his position by any means necessary and assume command of his cabal.
-Fluctuations are to be returned to levels set by myself.
-You have authority to purge all personnel not mission-essential and may utilise any other means to ensure moral purity.
-Detachment 13 is released from lockdown and may be utilised in any manner you see fit within the boundaries set.
-Daemonic incursion must not be allowed under any circumstance.
-You are to report daily on the progress of the purge.
A moment of laxity spawns a lifetime of heresy, Inquisitor G. Rorschach
To: Lord Inquisitor G. Rorschach (For Information: 3/4 Phobosian Doomguard)
From: Senior Captain Skorzeny, CO Detachment 13
Subject: Heresy outbreak
Priority: Carmine Alpha
Message format: Live astropath feed
Interrogator Haig has been killed in action by Praetorians under the command of Archmagos Betruger. Detachment 13 has purged the command of security forces in the anomaly complex and assumed control. Mechanicus elements have enclosed themselves in the central complex and are increasing fluctuations far beyond recommended levels. Detachment elements are attempting to force entry. Moral purity and personnel morale is decreasing dramatically as supernatural occurrences increase in occurrence and seriousness. Contact has been made with warp-based entities in the sewer system by local security. I foresee a full-scale incursion within the next 90 hours and request intervention in order to stabilise the situation.
CO Detachment 13
2044th Stormtrooper regiment
To: Senior Captain Skorzeny
From: Lord Inquisitor G. Rorschach
Subject: re: Heresy outbreak
Priority: Carmine Alpha
Message format: Live astropath feed
I am enroute with both my own forces and Colonel McGuts’ regiment. You are to do anything within your power to stop a daemonic incursion short of closing the anomaly. I intend to purge the facility, ensure it is quarantined and secure when I arrive in the next 36 hours.
Three days earlier, Deimos IV warp anomaly complex AS5995
Interrogator Haig moved briskly down one of the dark metallic corridors of the Deimos anomaly complex, flanked by his personal bodyguards. The two Stormtroopers, fully clad in close quarters battle equipment and sinister in their black rebreathers carried their massive hellguns in patrol position as if they expected contact, despite the security measures in place. Four years in service to Lord Inquisitor Rorschach had taught Haig that paranoia was a vital element to survival in their line of work, and the way his right hand never left the grip of his oversized bolt pistol betrayed this to even the most casual observer. The weapon contained blessed rounds with a psychic core, the very same ammunition used by the Grey Knights to banish the most powerful of daemons. Such precautions were routine in Haig’s profession, and it seemed more and more likely that they would be necessary.
The Inquisitorial apprentice was enroute to an unscheduled meeting with Archmagos Betruger, whose ministrations regarding the anomaly had been approaching levels deemed too hazardous by Haig’s master. The anomaly was a stable rift in warp space, a rare enough thing in the galaxy, and had been anchored by Imperial technicians to allow relatively safe experimentation. If the secrets of the anomaly could be harnessed, then the consequences would be incredible. It was not at all unthinkable that technology developed from such research could be used to complete the God Emperor’s dream of a webway linking the entire Imperium, a human infinity circuit. Such a thing would allow instantaneous and, more importantly reliable travel from one end of the Imperium to another. Armies could be raised on Valhalla and the next day be fighting on Bakka at full strength and organisation. Not only this, but the potential for other technologies, especially weaponry was enormous.
The Adeptus Mechanicus had been excited beyond measure at the potential of such technology, and by pulling the strings that only they could they had convinced the authorities in charge of the discovery to place the research under full Mechanicus control. Sending one of their own luminaries, Archmagos Betruger, to the scarcely-populated world of Deimos IV where the anomaly was discovered by a small mining community, the machine-men had immediately commenced experimentation with the portal. The Inquisitor Lord who had been notified of the discovery, Rorschach was not satisfied with unananimous Mechanicum presence around the rift, aware as he was of the terrible potential of the thing. He had formed a well trained and equipped security force several thousand strong from the sparse planetary population, and placed them as guards of the massive underground facility the Mechanicus were constructing to house their research base. Archmagos Betruger’s demands that the fleshbag security be removed from his base fell on unsympathetic ears, and had only resulted in the Inquisitor Lord leaving his apprentice and a formidable detachment of Stormtroopers to ensure the Archmagos’ loyalty.
Since then, the labyrinthine underground facility had been completed and under Interrogator Haig’s watchful eye, had been fortified and blessed against daemonic incursion. The Interrogator was extremely busy ensuring moral purity in the base was maintained, as the local security were inexperienced and had no concept of the enemy they were in place to contain. Using the forty-odd Stormtroopers under his direct command, Haig had ensured the security personnel were trained and mentally prepared to resist the evil presence emanating from the rift. As the experiments carried out by Archmagos Betruger increased in intensity and power requirement, the base took on a sinister personality all its own. Power was diverted from non-essential systems, including lighting, to fuel to enormous requirements of the research teams. The base was perpetually dark, lit only by the dulled fluorescent strips along the ceiling. Parts of the base were not lit at all, and the security patrols were equipped with illuminators for patrolling the mostly-uninhabited lower levels that were largely reserved for the mazes of arcane machinery that allowed the base to function. Most worrying of all was the power bleeding from the portal had infected the planet around it, and the structure itself began to whisper intimidating gibberish to nervous soldiers. Sightings of warp phenomena were commonplace, and disappearances among the work crews sent to the lower levels had occurred several times. The facility’s intimidating aura had increased to the point that only the presence of a Stormtrooper patrol leader gave the security teams the confidence to venture to the lowest levels.
That, or Interrogator Haig’s personal brand of motivation.
Favoured student of the notoriously efficient and brutal Inquisitor Lord Rorschach, Interrogator Haig had learned most of his master’s techniques of persuasion. While he often performed Rorschach’s excruciations as one of his duties, he possessed his own team of excruciators who would ply their gruesome trade on any whom Haig deemed worthy. He had made a point of having his servants prepare their array of digi-slashers and neural jacks so that, if necessary, even the techpriests would fear his attention. It had not yet come to that point, but he had made the threat clear and supported it with the omnipresent hellguns of the deadly Detachment 13.
So it was that when the Inquisitor Lord had departed Deimos IV and its dark subterranean complex for other errands, he had been confident that the research would progress safely. Even a minor daemonic incursion would be contained by the facility’s sigils and the weapons of its defenders, and as long as Archmagos Betruger ensured the portal remained at a certain level of stability, there was no threat of Deimos IV becoming a daemon-infested hell. Therein lay the problem.
The Archmagos and his greedy team of post-human refuse had surpassed the safety levels set by the Interrogator’s master, and this would not be allowed to go on for a moment longer. He was enroute to the central complex, where the Mechanicum held sway and the portal itself swirled with barely contained energies. Ignoring the protestations of the Mechanicum Protectors at the entrance to their labs, he swept through the arcane red-lit world of the techpriests until he arrived at Betruger’s inner sanctum, his ever vigilant bodyguards prepared for danger.
Bursting into the Archmagos’ personal shrine unannounced, Interrogator Haig halted just short of where Betruger sat at his desk. Standing ramrod straight, glaring with abject displeasure at the chief techpriest with his right hand firmly grasping his bolt pistol and flanked by the sinister presence of the two Stormtroopers, any normal man would have immediately feared for his life.
Archmagos Betruger merely sighed, a mechanical rasping sound emitted from his vox-implant. The machine priest was almost entirely mechanical, and if he felt fear he was incapable of showing it. He returned Haig’s glare with unblinking red lights that served as eyes.
“What is the meaning of thi-“
“I’ll be asking the questions here, Archmagos” said Haig, cutting the techpriest off. “You know why I am here. You were given strict instructions, and you have failed to abide by them. This will not be tolerated”. The Inquisitor-apprentice continued to scowl at Betruger, daring him to reply, which he did:
“Interrogator Haig, as the senior servant of the Machine God here, I believe it is my prerogative to decide what is appropriate in terms of the ministrations of my techpriests. You have no understanding of these thi-“
“Quiet yourself, machine! It is you who have no understanding of the forces you are toying with, and it is for this reason you were set specific boundaries. The consequences of allowing the portal’s stability to collapse are more dire than you can possibly comprehend, and flaunting the Inquisitor Lord’s orders will not be allowed under any circumstance. It is better that no progress be made in the research than for the portal to be made unstable by your clumsy attentions!”
Unfathomable! thought the Archmagos. This fleshbag means to retard his research into the most important piece of technology the Mechanicus had encountered in millennia! That would not do. The Archmagos clicked with displeasure, but did not retort. Haig continued:
“You should count yourself lucky beyond imagining that there is no replacement for you available at the moment, or I would already have had you destroyed. You will return the rift’s fluctuations to the levels deemed safe and you will do it immediately, or I return and nothing will save you.” The furious Interrogator turned and began to leave, but paused just short of the door with a melodramatic stomping of his feet, magnified by the simultaneous halt of his black-clad troopers:
“I will return tomorrow. If you have not done as I have said, not even the Omnissiah will save you.” He then left.
Archmagos Betruger continued to click with displeasure. Such stupidity! And such rudeness! For a mortal to speak to him like that, and with such disrespect to the Machine God was intolerable. But even worse was the implied threat to progress. Absolutely unacceptable.
Betruger’s masters had given him the authority to do anything required to secure this technology for the Adeptus Mechanicus, and a larger force of the Mars Brotherhood was en route to facilitate this. Until then, he would have to use his own initiative.
The Archmagos’ eyes began to flash with internal motion as massive waves of binary began to circulate inside his machine brain. Orders and programs were uploaded to the processors of his deadly servants and would immediately be executed by the Praetorians, gun-servitors and Protectors that formed the military element of his expedition. Interrogator Haig would come back tomorrow, but he would not stand in the way of progress. The human infinity circuit would come into fruition, but under the sole control of the priesthood of Mars as the Omnissiah intended.
The next day
Interrogator Haig lounged in his personal quarters, a small but luxurious apartment within the Stormtrooper-patrolled Inquisitorial offices. The Detachment 13 barracks was located here, as were the myriad of offices and rooms for use by Haig and his subordinates. The only other man allowed within Haig’s office, Captain Skorzeny, sat in a gloriously carved wooden chair and sipped amasec from a tiny crystal glass. The Stormtrooper officer was wearing his dress uniform; it consisted of blood-stripe black pants, a black shirt with a black tie under an impressive black greatcoat that was festooned with the various orders, medals and decorations that proclaimed their wearer as a fearless war hero. An impeccably clean black beret sat sloped on the Captain’s head, with a silver =I= on the centre. He was a magnificent sight, but it was his face that was most intimidating.
Scar tissue stretched from the back of his head to the bridge of his nose, then diverted sharply under his left eye and disappeared under his chin. The flesh of the scar was white and clearly quite old. The Stormtrooper’s left eye was a glossy red implant, designed to look much like a normal eye with the exception that it was a glowing red. Studs underneath the Captain’s right eye indicated that his normal-looking eye was also artificial, and when the’ Captain grinned as he often did it could be seen that his teeth had been replaced with black substitutes. When his closest confidantes would ask him why his teeth were black, the Captain would simply reply that he liked black.
The hand grasping the crystal glass was a bright silver, the implant extending up to the Stormtrooper’s elbow. The dexterity he displayed with the arm belied its strength, and Haig had seen the terrible damage the Captain could wreak on an enemy with it. All in all, Haig would not have any other man act as commander of his Stormtroopers.
“So, has Lord Rorschach replied to your message?” inquired Captain Skorzeny, his voice low but quite pleasant relative to its origin. The Interrogator sat up, yawning.
“Yes. He has given me leave to deal with the situation as I see fit.”
“So we will be purging the guards?”
“Well Interrogator, I have compiled a list of the men that need to be removed. It is less a matter of mental instability and more of incompetence.”
“Indeed. I suppose you have still felt it, of course.” Skorzeny looked suspiciously at the Interrogator, his normal-looking eye searching for some threat, but found none. He sighed:
“Of course I have. My house is well under control, however. None of my Stormtroopers are showing signs of stress. They have dealt with more powerful auras than thi-“ a beeping sound emerged from the officer’s pocket, and he retrieved a small device with a screen that displayed a variety of information including urgent messages from subordinates. His face hardened.
“Another incident?” inquired Haig.
“Yes. One of the guards went mad and ate a sewer tech. He has been dealt with but the patrols in the lower levels are starting to freak out, claiming that voices are telling them to kill each other or some shit.”
“It’s getting worse. Time to move.” The Interrogator stood. “I am taking one of your teams to the Archmagos to deal with him. You sort out the security forces. I am releasing your entire Detachment for deployment, Captain.” The Stormtrooper stood, and saluted:
“I’ll deal with this, sir. I’ll head to security headquarters and take charge of this mess, and I’ll have my sections take over patrols in the lower levels.’ Interrogator Haig nodded his approval, and the elite soldier swept from the room to make his preparations.
Archmagos Betruger. That bastard had blatantly disregarded Haig’s warning, as the experiments on the portal had been continued at increasingly dangerous levels. Failure to comply with orders issued by the representative of an Inquisitor was a heretical offence punishable by death. Having been given the green light by his master, the Interrogator intended to pacify the situation at the anomaly complex before it deteriorated any further. A new team who were less independent would be required to study the portal, but that was a small price to pay to deny daemonic access to the portal. If the denizens of the warp discovered the portal and utilised it to gain access to the material realm, an endless tide of chaotic monstrosities would overrun the base and turn Deimos IV into a daemon world, forcing the complete destruction of one of the most important discoveries in recent memory in the fires of Exterminatus.
Streams of binary, the language of the Machine God, flowed unceasingly through the minds of the Praetorians whose mission it was to kill Interrogator Haig if he returned to the central complex with violence in mind. They saw the world in a different way to organic creatures, the universe being a place purely of math, probability and laws. Their powerful aural nodes picked up the distinctive stride of the target well before he came into view, and their highly advanced visual senses positively identified him as he emerged at the end of the dark metal hall that led to the Mechanicus’ inner sanctum. His weapon drawn and five accompanying Stormtroopers advancing rapidly with hellguns and a plasma weapon, the logic engines powering the Praetorians quickly surmised that the intent of the fleshlings was violence to their master. They had a single program to run before they were cleared to engage:
“Archmagos Betruger forbids you entry, Interrogator.” The human stopped, then turned to his plasma gunner and nodded. The black-armoured soldier dropped to a knee and lifted his massive blue-glowing weapon to a firing position as his hellgun wielding compatriots separated to the left and right and began firing, massively powerful lances of energy blasting large chunks out the Praetorians’ armour. A blue ball of superheated energy lanced out, burning completely through one of the heavy gun servitors and shorting out its systems as they failed to deal with the massive internal damage. The second Praetorian succumbed as the hellguns tore it apart, but not before a burst from its assault cannon tore two of the Stormtroopers into bloody rags, including the plasma gunner.
Pumped with adrenaline, the Interrogator charged ahead with two of the soldiers following closely. A third Stormtrooper picked up the plasma gun and chased after the small group. The large door to the Mechancium’s central complex opened just as Haig reached it, and the heavy-flamer armed Praetorian on the other side turned the closest three humans to ash before any of them had the chance to scream. The plasma gunner fired once and severely damaged the massive servitor, but that was little satisfaction as the Praetorian’s assault cannon opened up.
Watching through the eyes of his faithful servants, Archmagos Betruger watched for just long enough to ensure the entrance to his corner of the complex was sealed and fortified before returning his attention to the experiments, the voice of the Omnissiah urging him on.
The security team moved in an arrowhead formation through the oppressive darkness, autopistols and illuminators drawn. While they had not been trained to hold the illuminator at the same time as the pistol, recent experience had quickly taught guards operating the darkened lower levels that it would not do to have one’s weapon holstered when a threat presented itself. By the standards of the warfare generally conducted by the Imperium’s soldiers, the contacts that had been made by security forces were minor. However, these men did not have the same confidence in their weapons and abilities that could only be bred through brutal and repetitive drills such as that undertaken by Guardsmen. Compared to the Stormtroopers acting as advisors to the patrol teams, they were criminally incompetent. That did not mean that they could not deal adequately with simple threat however, and this was their purpose.
The evil aura infecting the base had strengthened since the murder of the base’s Inquisitorial commander, and if it had not been for the tight control imposed by Captain Skorzeny panic would have overtaken the personnel left to guard the facility and the various crews that maintained it in the absence of the techpriests. Nearly three thousand men and women populated the base, a third of them under arms, and the stories of disappearances and inexplicable occurrences had increased to a daily frequency. Sometimes a man would go insane and murder his co-worker, and his peers would discover him busily consuming the remains of his friend. Most of the time it was just somebody having a breakdown and wandering alone into the deepest depths of the base, and while they did sometimes return they were usually rendered catatonic. Those that were not carved strange symbols into their flesh that only the Inquisitorial Stormtroopers could recognise, and were put to the torch before they could attack the other workers.
All in all, morale in the Deimos anomaly complex was falling sharply and only the strict discipline imposed by the Captain had kept things running. He had replaced the command staff of the security forces with his own junior officers and NCOs, leaving those replaced to breathe a sigh of relief that ‘purge’ did not always mean ‘kill’. Nonetheless, executions of those who deserted their post or otherwise failed to perform their assigned duties was not uncommon.
This particular security team was distracted by all of these things and more, the seven man group clearly nervous in the dark and jumping when one occasionally tripped on the ribbed gantries. It was a point of much concern that the patrols in the lower levels was no longer being led by Stormtroopers, concerned as they were with the siege of the Mechanicum controlled central complex. While most of the guards accepted that they would rather spend their days conducting unbearably tense patrols in the deep underground than dodging bullets and plasma in the central complex, there was still a great amount to be unhappy about.
The team was designated Sierra 22, and was one of many identical groups conducting similar missions at any given point in time. Another technician had gone missing on one of the lowest levels along with the guard assigned to protect him, and so Sierra 22 was down in the pitch black with their pistols drawn and illuminators lighting narrow strips of the metal hell that was their home.
“Echelon left, check that hallway. Right, hold position.” The patrol split as the three men forming the left wing of the arrowhead cast their illuminators down a long hallway, with a metal grid floor and claustrophobic ribbed walls like every hallway in the facility. Satisfied they were clear, the team leader gestured for the group to continue down that same hallway.
“Movement front!” hissed the pointwoman, dropping to one knee and brandishing her pistol with a shaking hand. A low moan emanated from the darkness about a hundred metres to the front, and shuffling feet could be heard. At a frantic wave of the team leader’s hand, she continued forward with the team automatically closing their formation to cover her in the narrow hall. Other than the sound of their boots clanging against the metallic floor and the humming of their illuminators, they could hear nothing other than the moaning.
There! A silhouetted figure stood to their front, leaning heavily to one side. Even poorly lit, it was clear there was something seriously wrong. Its idiot moans continued, and it shuffled towards them clutching what looked suspiciously like an arm. Clearly, it was somebody else’s arm.
“F-fire!” ordered the team leader. The three pistols of the leading men and woman flashed and blew massive holes in the figure, but it did not drop. With a suddenly burst of orange light emanating from every orifice, the figure transformed from a stumbling idiot into a screaming madman, its eyes drooling blood and its body drenched in the viscera of its victim. With a scream the pointwoman was pitched to the ground by its insane charge and disarmed. As it grasped at her with its bloody hands, the orange light disappeared and the body succumbed to its grevious wounds, slumping onto the horrified guard. They pulled her out from beneath it with clammy, white hands and continued their patrol, the fate of the other missing man suspected but not yet confirmed.
“Did you hear about Sierra 22?” asked a nervous looking man in the overalls of a tech. Clutching a cup of recaf like it was the holy grail, he appeared somewhat wild-eyed compared to his much calmer companion.
“No, what about it?” replied the man sitting on the opposite side of one of the many tables in the coffee bar. Like everywhere in the Emperor-forsaken anomaly complex, the coffee bar was darker than would be comfortable for most. Only the lights of the vending machines gave some colour to what would otherwise be another depressing room.
The second man was much more self-assured than the first, who while being a simple labourer, had done his time in the Guard and seen more than his fair share of action. He continued: “Did another lot of idiots go missing?”
“No!” replied the animated tech. “They came back! But there’s the kick y’see, they all were covered in blood, like ****in’ crazies, and none of them were saying a word! They’re still locked up with the headjobs getting debriefed, but word is they were right mind****ed!” The second man looked unimpressed.
“Bunch a’ slack jawed faggots around here. These pussies ain’t shit to a real Guardsman, going crazy over a ****in’ zombie plague.” The last comment provoked an angry glare from those security personnel close enough to overhear the man’s careless insults, but he was familiar enough to them that they knew it wasn’t worth it. The nervous tech sipped his recaf.
“Well maybe you should join the security tough guy!” challenged the tech, but he physically deflated when the second man met his gaze. The ex-Guardsman leaned forward, forcing his compatriot further back into his chair by sheer menace.
“Now you listen here Dimitri, and you listen right ****in’ good. We’ve known each other a long time to be sure, but don’t give me shit. You know I don’t take shit, and you know well enough why.” the tech nodded sullenly and he continued: “If you knew an Emperor-damn thing about the ****in’ Guard, you wouldn’t be worried. Because nobody’s tougher than the Guard, ‘cept ****in glory boys. And you got yourself an overstrength platoon of glory boys right here in this shithole, gunnin’ down techpriests as we speak.” As if to illustrate his point, the lights flickered in response to what was most likely a large explosion claiming the lives of more machine servants. “When they’s done, they’ll deal with this zombie groxshit like this!“, punctuating the comment with a click of his finger. He leaned back in his chair, a bacstick smoking lazily from one side of his mouth.
“Besides, what have I got to worry about. No zombie ever hurt a real soldier.”
“I bet you never got shot at by zombies...” replied a wild-eyed guard, and blasted the ex-Guardsman to pieces with his shotgun before turning the weapon on the terrified tech.
“Go.” ordered an exasperated but controlled Captain Skorzeny as one of the late Interrogator Haig’s functionary’s entered his command centre with details of another incident.
“Murder on Echo level, in a coffee bar. It appears one of the guards fell victim to daemonic possession and shot several workers before being brought down.”
“Thank you, you may leave.” replied the Captain as the functionary left the report on his desk. What he actually wanted to say was ‘****, the daemonic presence is out of control and the Archmagos still had the portal!’ but he kept that to himself. The subordinates he had placed in command of the security forces would have to keep an even tighter reign on things in the lower levels, because it was become absolutely vital that control of the portal chamber be returned to sane hands before all hell broke loose, and he had nobody to spare.
Working his way through the plans for another breaching operation, the Captain began to worry. Those few astropaths that had not violently killed themselves were sprouting gibberish consistent with a massive daemonic presence lurking just on the edge of reality, and even one as psychically untalented as himself could feel it.
A monstrous scream like a man dying the most terrible of deaths echoed throughout the entire complex, and everywhere the lights flickered and went out. The Captain put down the blueprints he had been holding and flicked off the safety on his hellpistol as the last of his astropaths started screaming and tearing their eyes. Too late.
The men in charge of monitoring the vox network used by the security patrols sat transfixed, with wide eyes and shaking hands, the horror of what they were hearing forcing them to continue listening in grotesque fascination. On one network there was nothing but screaming and sounds somewhat similar to a shirt being torn in half, on another there was heavy bestial breathing and the sound of chewing. On another network again a cacophony of sounds erupted from ten different sources, the vox operators of their parent units being, from the sound of things, eaten alive or driven utterly insane by the invisible force that had invaded the complex.
The vox operators span in their seats as they simultaneously felt an overwhelming presence in the room. One of the men began to scream hysterically as his eyes starting spurting blood and his limbs began to twist at unnatural angles until he was a crumpled mess on the ground, and his compatriots died in similarly horrifying ways before being resurrected by the same unseen force, killing light in their torn eyes and their bodies damaged beyond what any human should be able to bear. Those unfortunate enough to be unaffected by the daemons lived the last few moments of their lives in unfathomable agony and fear as men and women who were their co-workers only a moment ago tore them limb from limb.
Sierra 35 was down four men, the remaining five dragging one of their number down the pitch black hall as the darkness was interrupted by the flashes of autopistols, the possessed corpses and terrible monsters that had taken control of the anomaly complex chasing them with murderous intent. A beast with the body of a massively overmuscled red-skinned man and a horned head charged through their fusillade to wreak bloody havoc on the closest humans. By the time the autopistols brought it down, the assorted horrors following behind it had closed and it was all over bar the screaming.
The man ran. Screaming, the howls of terrible monsters and the sound of horrible slaughter being wreaked on the personnel of the complex followed him and a metallic smell tinged the air. There were daemons in the base.
The man had been a miner for fourteen years. He had wanted to join the Guard, but his father had warned him against it, telling him the many terrors that inhabited a cruel galaxy would quickly claim him. He had never really believed the stories, but now, alone in the dark of the Deimos IV anomaly complex, he knew such terrors existed.
The man’s vox crackled: “...Get out, get ou-“ static cut the voice off, and the sound of cracking bone could be faintly heard. The man mumbled to himself:
‘Daemons...I must...get out...’ The vox crackled into life once more, and this time there was only evil laughter and a short message of doom: ‘Too late for escape...’
The man screamed and fell, writhing as the same invisible force that had claimed hundreds of lives already overtook him, and he rose as one of the many walking dead that now populated the base.
This scene was repeated in a thousand variations on a thousand doomed men and women, who died screaming and bleeding. Soon the dead outnumbered the living, and before long the Deimos IV anomaly complex reflected the worst nightmares of its murdered inhabitants.
Last edited by NightRapier; July 20th, 2010 at 01:10.