Baptism By Fire ((Short Story, WH40k))

[coorash]

((With another of my classic suck-ass titles, I present... A short story! Based on something I saw a few minutes ago, I now hold the man I based Kenneth (The main character) on in the highest regard. Hope you enjoy it, and please feel free to post criticism ))

Sand crunched under the marine's boots. Another day on the Deathworld, and he was still searching houses. Today, though, there was a very important difference.

Kenneth was point.

For four blocks, he had stopped outside each door, said a brief prayer, and entered. After a brief examination, the Space Marines trudged out. He paused, thanked the Emperor, then went to the next one.

Just one neighborhood left.

Despite the climate control in his power armor, he was chilled. They reached a house. A brief pause to pray, and he kicked down the door. Gun-mounted lights illuminated a hallway, and they went in.

[coorash]

A metal door, shut, with no light from under the frame. Just glancing at it gave Kenneth a bad feeling. Someone indicated it, and Kenneth shook his head uneasily.

"We're doing that one last."

They opened a few more doors, bolters ready. It was quiet, of course. It was always quiet. No one drew attention to themselves, deliberately, when Space Marines were around. Eight feet tall, clad in power armor, wielding guns that could casually evaporate a man's head and the better part of his chest.

Unease rippled through the Marine, despite the uneventfulness of the rest of the house. They reached the second to last door, peering into it. Suddenly, the second-in-line opened fire on the metal door. Holes appeared in the steel, and dust plumed from inside the door. The fireteam peered cautiously at the stillness.

A grenade rolled into their midst.

They scattered, each catching some shrapnel. A voice, one Kenneth barely recognized as his fireteam captain's through the ringing in his ears, bellowed into the vox.

"Get out of the house now! We are going to hit the place with a tank, prevent further casualties! Move!"

The soldiers scrambled for the door, eager to escape before the Predator Battle Tank rolled around to answer the summons their captain was busy shouting. First in, last out, Kenneth ushered the last of his battle brothers through the door.

Another grenade rolled at him, bounced off his booted feet, and slid a few inches away. For a horrifying, breathless moment, all was still. Then fire blossomed from the tiny device, and the Space Marine felt himself lifted off his feet.

[coorash]

A crash sounded as Kenneth landed some seven feet behind where he was. Having largely turned away, his chest escaped somewhat unscathed. His back burned, but the pain was quickly deadened. Chaos Marines began to pile out of the door, taking up position.

The loyalist soldier tried to stand, only to find his legs refused to support him. Behind him was an exit- which was locked and barred. The only effective way out lay behind the traitors. Swearing, Kenneth checked the ammo counter in his bolter. Nearly empty, and he had no time to replace it. He prepped a grenade and took careful aim. His enemies returned the favor, and an impact sounded on his left spaulder. Three holes appeared as well; A nearly fatal miss.

Not my problem. Focus.

His remaining bolts were put to good use, every burst killing or maiming an enemy. They returned fire ineffectually, their bullets scraping along his armor or missing entirely.

Three bolts left; a single burst. He could barely crawl, and the door behind him was impossible for him to open. Enemies stood behind him and the other exit. No one could help him, and a tank was well on it's way to obliterating the building and any lost causes inside.

Sweet Emperor... Today is the day I am going to die. I am going to die. This is where my story stops.

Shaking his fuzzing head to clear it, he loosed the last rounds in his weapon. A burst of gore, a kill confirmation flashing on his HUD. Small comfort, but one that gave him the strength to reach out in preparation of priming his grenade.

Another crash behind him alerted him of new factors in the fight. Tears nearly slid down his face, but the new arrivals were allies. His fireteam captain grabbed his shoulder and breastplate, beginning to haul him back. A heavy bolter spat death at the advancing Chaos Marines, forcing them back into cover. The three backed out as quickly as possible.

A quick bio-scan revealed that all Kenneth had suffered were minor shrapnel wounds. Satisfied, the marines grabbed their dizzy comrade and sprinted for cover as a battle tank rolled into their line of sight. A deafening crash later, and the house was little more than a smoking hole.

[coorash]

((So, despite this man's wounds (The worst of which was, somehow, a bad concussion), he returned to active duty three days later. He was still helping clear houses. I thought that was amazing, and the calm with which he told his story floored me. I mean, he's taken point to clear houses. Each door he opens could be hiding a machine gun or something, a way several people have gone. The people he's hunting learned to take face shots to bypass armor. And yet, as soon as he can, he returns to his job.

Soldiers are a breed apart.))

[JLStewart (( Nightwatch ))]

((Its looking great so far. Keep doing it.))