Turning Point -Warhammer 40k Fan Fiction

Chapter 5 - Manhunt

          An encompassing exhaustion overtook Joseph seemingly all at once.  His eyes felt heavier than he could ever remember, and every muscle in his body seemed to protest even the smallest movement.  Carefully probing his tender side, he hoped to find that he had only cracked a rib or two.  Thankfully, it felt as if they were only cracked.  Looking down at his right arm, he noticed a dark red blotch of Trent’s blood stained into the material.  Joseph hurriedly rolled up his sleeves to hide the evidence of the recent battle.

         Up front, the cab driver casually drove down the road.  From the corner of his eye, Joseph noticed the driver’s hidden interest in his newest patron.

         “Where to?” the driver queried.

         “Where else after two straight shifts?” Joseph replied, trying to throw in a bit of a gruff nature to his voice.  “The Angry Anchor.  I’m gonna drink my ass off.”  Joseph hoped to conceal his real agenda with the average laborer’s desire to drink a hard life away.

         “Seems like trouble at the star port, trouble with a capital ‘T’ if you know what I mean,” the cabbie stated plainly.

         “Tell me about it.  I’m just glad my shift was up before the Arbiters closed down the entire wing.”

         Glancing back a few times through the rear-view mirror, the driver decided that there was nothing worth his concern and concentrated on the route to his destination.
 
         Reaching into his bag beside him, Joseph relaxed when he felt the re-assuring grip of his customized las-pistol inside.  Having lost the hold-out pistol in the extended firefight, he welcomed his old and powerful ally for whatever would come next.  He vowed to be more aware of the situation around him in the future so that next time he was ambushed he would be able to use the powerful weapon.

         Now, with the Guard and local Arbites on alert, Joseph had scant hours to find a way off planet.  His only recourse if he was unable to escape was to find a place to hideout for a couple of months on the planet.  Finding a suitable habitat that wouldn’t be subject to search or suspicion would be near impossible.  Unlike the monolithic hive cities that the Imperium of man was known to construct, the small flat cities that populated Garuis IV left few places to hide.

         Joseph watched passively as the rundown, grey ferrocrete buildings rolled by outside of the passenger’s side window.  Tired and dirty ship mechanics, dock loaders, and other blue collar workers mindlessly strolled on the walkway nearby.  The ensuing crowd and bustle of the shift change could work to Joseph’s advantage in staying unnoticed.  Trying to relax a bit and get a few minutes of rest before his next venture could begin, Joseph closed his eyes and drifted quickly into sleep.




         The clear, giant pitcher of beer slammed down hard on the dark oak table, causing a good amount of the local ale to splash on the men crowded around it.  Laughter emitted from the group of drunken men, their merriment and fervor inevitably causing more beer to spray and spill from their glasses.  Shouts and cheers of the men resounded inside of the packed bar, as they swung their mugs high to and fro in the series of salutes that were being called out.

         Joseph smiled broadly as Briggs bear-hugged him, lifting him high into the air.  Being the much smaller man, Joseph felt as if he were a child again.

         “This little bastard just saved my hide, again!” the large man exclaimed, dropping Joseph and re-gripping his mug of beer.  “Three cheers for Storm, the most fearless, reckless, and down-right craziest soldier known to the Guard!”  Screams of agreement followed his proclamation.

         Waving his arms in meek acceptance, Joseph laughed and then drank a large portion of the beer left in his glass.  Before he could set it down, the waitress automatically poured more of the strong ale into his cup.  Looking down and realizing that the hard work he had put in downing the first five glasses of beer had been extended without his acknowledgement, Joseph sighed deeply and reluctantly began the sixth.

         Briggs grabbed a few of the chairs that were randomly set about the floor, aligning them so that the men of his squad could sit around the same table.  Putting his arms around Joseph’s head, he led him to a chair in front of the table.  Several other guardsmen sat down around them.

         “You truly are one crazy bastard, Storm!” Doc yelled from across the table, his voice straining to be heard over the roar of the celebrating men.

         “Yeah, when you rushed the pillbox where that RPG was firing, I thought you were a goner.  I’ll be damned, if that thing got another shot off, we’d all have been toast,” Stenner added.  The men huddled around the table grunted in concurrence.

         “Eh, the idiot was having a hard time reloading the damn thing.  I figured that it was as good of a time as any to take ‘em out,” Joseph answered.

         “How the hell did you know that?  I had line of sight on the assholes and even I couldn’t tell what they were up to.  You must have an implant in that socket of yours!” Briggs joked.

         How did I know that? The question resounded in Joseph’s head.  He knew he hadn’t seen the men struggling with the ammo and the weapon, but somehow he had bet his life that they were busy and couldn’t fire during his charge. 

         Suddenly an eerie feeling washed over Joseph.  Everything seemed much cloudier than he remembered, which in turn prompted his acceptance that he was dreaming.  Instant recall identified the scene before him from his memory; it was the celebration after the liberation of Jeruss Prime’s main city. 

         Joseph remembered the brutal fighting on Jeruss Prime and that the Guard had lost almost half of their numbers in the final assault.  After losing more than one-third of their own regiment’s men to the numerically superior enemy, the hard fought victory gave the Altariun 512th great cause to celebrate that night in one of the local taverns.  They celebrated the triumph and toasted to their lost comrades.

         The conversation around the table moved forward, but Joseph could hear none of it.  Drowning most of the other sounds out were the loud cheers and singing of the inebriated crowd surrounding them.  Glasses broke in the background and laughter boomed out of nowhere like mortar shots in the field.  Although now aware he was fully dreaming, Joseph found he could do nothing more than observe the scene taking place in front of him, like watching the most realistic holopic.

         Briggs said something that sparked roaring laughter from the others (all except for Dereje Novo who sat somewhat away from the table and drank heavily), but Joseph didn’t catch the joke.  Doc retorted with something that he could only guess was sarcasm, which prompted the blushing on Briggs’ large cheeks.  Joseph couldn’t help himself and found that he was smiling from not only the scene, but the recollection of a great memory.

         Suddenly the bright room darkened.  A general hush settled over the area, and the only thing Joseph could make out was the click-clack of footsteps approaching from behind the crowd in front of him

         The host began parting as a figure emerged from the background, coming into focus as he grabbed a chair and sat next to Briggs.  Corporal Trent Johnson grabbed a cigar from his front pocket and lit it with quick stroke.  His facial features were darker than Joseph had ever seen, and a small, mocking grin rounded the corners of his mouth.  He stared straight at Joseph, almost through him.

         Joseph swallowed hard involuntarily, but held the stare.  Without want or command, his body lifted the pitcher of beer in the middle of the table and poured a glass for Johnson.

         Wordlessly, the man grabbed the mug and quickly downed the contents.  Finished with the liquid, he slammed the cup onto the table, causing the glass to shatter.  Small fragments of glass scattered onto the floor below.  Blood began to flow from a cut on Trent’s hand.  Unaware of his injury, the man moved to wipe the sweat from his brow, all the while still holding his stare at Joseph.  Once his hand returned to the table in front of him, Joseph watched in horror as Trent’s forehead was covered with blood.

         Just like when I watched him being shot in the head.  The frightening thought sent a chill down Joseph’s spine.

         Realizing now that more blood was apparently streaming from his forehead, Joseph jumped out of his seat.  He looked around him and found all eyes were on him.  Taking small steps back, he began to will himself awake.  Struggling to escape this false memory in his mind, he desperately tried to convince himself that it was just a dream. After a few seconds of complete silence, Joseph realized he was helplessly stuck.

         “So this is the great Storm.  Looks more like a cowardly traitor to me.”  Several of the men around laughed as Johnson stood up from the chair and began to walk around the table, addressing the crowd as he moved.

         “Posing as a Guardsman and a friend… this bastard shot me!”

         “No.  It wasn’t me, Trent.  I swear, it wasn’t me,” Joseph replied so faintly it seemed to him a whisper.

         “You killed me, Joseph.  You killed me just like you killed Gregor and Novo… just like you’re going to kill everyone else around you!”  Johnson’s voice boomed throughout the bar, echoing loudly against the wood and plascrete walls.

         “It wasn’t my fault.  There was nothing I could do.  All I wanted to do was leave!”

         “Liar!  You are a traitor to the Guard, to your friends, the Imperium, and most importantly, you are a traitor to the Emperor!”  Trent’s rising voice started to sound like the fervent ramblings of a madman on the corner of a busy street, proclaiming doom to all.  The crowd around him anxiously ate it up, shouting their accord and cheering for blood.

         Joseph tried to turn and break through the crowd towards the exit, but he was pushed back towards Trent from the outlying men in the mob.  His strength sapped, Joseph could not break free from the horde as multiple hands grabbed his arms and held him from moving.  They turned him around to face Johnson, who was approaching with murderous eyes.

         As Johnson leaned closer, Joseph watched in horror as his eyes glazed over and became a dull white, losing all trace of his irises.

         “Welcome to the cold, little man.  The emptiness of the void is yours to explore, forever.  You were born to die, and the stars shall be your tomb.”  As Johnson raised a peculiar dagger into the air, strange runes shone from its handle with a bright violet light.

         A bizarre chant burst from the crowd around Joseph.  As their strange words rang out, an uncanny heaviness filled the atmosphere in the bar.  Suddenly unable to breathe, Joseph began to cry out for help, only to find his voice unwilling to sound.

         His arm at the pinnacle of its height, Johnson smiled as the host around him became unnervingly silent.  The blood flowing from Johnson’s head dripped down onto Joseph as the dead man loomed over him.  Finally giving up, Joseph stopped struggling and looked up at Trent.  Panic riddled every inch of his body as he watched Trent plunge the dagger downward and into his chest.



         Jumping up in the back seat, Joseph awoke, gasping for air.  The cab swerved slightly as the driver turned his head and looked behind at Joseph, surprise evident on his face.

         “You okay Bub?” the older man queried.

         Wiping the sweat from his brow, he slowly calmed his mind as the last vestiges of the dream floated away, dying as fast as the after-image of a spark in the night.

         “Yeah, I’m fine.  How far away are we?”  Joseph collected himself, once again lying back against the filthy seat. 

         “About a block away.  You want me to wait?”

         “No thanks, this is my last stop.”  Joseph winced as he realized the bad omen in his own words.

         The car pulled up to the front of the Angry Anchor, stopping sporadically for the pedestrians haphazardly walking through the street from the bar and the nearby docks.  Sticking low in the back, Joseph spied the area, searching for any signs of danger.  Convinced that the bar was not being watched at the moment, Joseph exited the cab after paying the driver a good tip.  Throwing his bag over his shoulder, he walked across the street and entered the bar for the last time.




             Watching as the slender man walked cautiously into the bar, the bulky soldier hidden behind a vehicle nearby used his large finger to press the button on his communication device.  “Tango-one, we have confirmed contact.”

         “Affirmative.  Seal the exit points and wait for the call.”

         The large guardsman motioned across the street to the waiting group of men.  Nodding in confirmation, the unit rushed across the road and positioned themselves against the front wall of the bar.

         Rising to his feet, Private First Class Larson Briggs grabbed the rifle from his shoulder and turned off the safety.  Looking back, he addressed the men standing behind him.  “Listen up boys.  Storm was the best in my squad, possibly even the whole damn regiment.  He took out Johnson and half of the Pyrus’s thirty-third squad in the hangar.  Watch each other’s ass, and stay in cover.  This guy is a crack shot, so don’t poke your head out and make it easy for him.    We go on the Interrogator’s word.  Let’s move!”




         Stepping around a young couple kissing near an opening to the main floor, Joseph carefully scanned the crowd in proximity.  Grudgingly, he was hoping to find the arrogant Captain from before.  Not finding a familiar face, he walked past the doorway and near the dance floor.  The smoke coming from the obscura users in the crowd, mixed with the loud music pounding out of the speakers, made Joseph’s search that much more difficult.

         As he came closer to covering almost the entirety of the bar, Joseph felt himself close to panic.  He knew that he was risking being caught coming back to this place, but the Captain was his best chance of getting off of the planet undetected.

         “Joseph Vintros,” interrupted a voice from behind Joseph.

         Freezing in his spot, Joseph slowly turned around to face the direction of the voice.  Sitting at a table a few yards away was a lean, well-dressed man.  Tailored with expensive material, the smiling man also wore battle armor underneath the outer layers of his clothing.  The two large, golden shoulder pads he wore had the emblem of the two-headed eagle embroidered on them, giving him a sense of regality.  Holding his right hand in the air, he motioned for Joseph to take the lone seat opposite of him.

         Noticing that Joseph was warily searching around the bar, he laughed.  “They’re covering the exits as we speak.  Please, sit down, they will not move without my word.  Let us speak like civilized men.”

         Judging by his elegant speech and appearance, Joseph knew the man was highborn, possibly in the employ of an Inquisitor.  Checking the area one last time, he reluctantly walked over to the chair and sat down.  A waitress quickly made her way to the table as the man flagged her down.

         “Now then, shall I order you a drink?”

         Joseph shook his head briefly.  Pursing his lips, the elegantly fashioned man waved the waitress away.

         “Can’t blame you, there’s not a decent spirit in the establishment.”  Staring at Joseph, he tilted his head slightly, sizing the disheveled Guardsman up.

         “How did you know I’d be back here?” Joseph queried.

         “I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced.”  Ignoring Joseph’s statement, the man stood from his chair, bowing.  “Interrogator Harris Falten.  I come on behalf of my lord Inquisitor Ahriman Tycos.”

         “Inquisitor.  I was warned someone in high places had taken interest in me.”

         “An interest that is very much for the greater good.  I’m sorry, but the road ends here.  You will give yourself up and I will take you to my Master.  No more blood needs to be spilled today.”

         The image of Trent’s body falling down in a heap in front of him made Joseph shiver.  “I’m afraid, dear Interrogator, that I cannot allow that to happen.”

         “Heroics will only get you and innocent bystanders here killed.  Are you so far gone that you’d let innocents die because of you?”  Falten’s face became red as his anger started to become evident, even creeping into his voice.

         “Not from my bullets, sir.”  Joseph’s mocking tone only furthered the man’s irritation.

         “Insolent whelp!  How they ever let a simple farm boy escape this long is beyond me.  It speaks droves on the incompetence of the Guard.  You will stand down, or so help me Emperor I will take you down myself.”  Hands shaking slightly, the man slammed his drink down and began to stare into Joseph’s eyes.

         “Anytime you’re ready, make your move.”  Joseph, hands already under the table, began to ready his las-pistol.  The Interrogator’s jaw bunched up as he tensed.

         “You give me no choice.”  The Interrogator shrugged nonchalantly as he spoke one word under his breath, “Falcon.”

         Instantly recognizing the mumbled remark as a code word for a strike, Joseph flung the table up into Falten, kicking it mid-air to add extra momentum.  Shattering into pieces, the oak table knocked the Interrogator backwards, causing his chair to spill him on his back and crack his head hard against the ground.  Shouts of alarm rang out from the entrance of the bar as several soldiers had rifles raised as they spilled into the crowd.  Moving forward, Joseph quickly checked on the fallen man, seeing the Interrogator lying unconscious on the floor.

         Turning his head rapidly, Joseph instinctively drew his pistol and shot a soldier running in from the rear left exit of the bar.  Several more started to file in from behind the downed man.  Grabbing his bag on the floor, Joseph ran towards the other side of the room, shoving his way through the panicking throng of patrons.

         Two soldiers suddenly appeared from the exit Joseph had set his mind on using, guns raised and searching for him.  Ducking just as the shots rang over his head, Joseph used his momentum to slide along the hard and dirty floor.  Shooting twice and scoring two hits, the men collapsed, each holding the smoldering wound on their shoulder.  More shouts and shots came from behind him.  Jumping to his feet, he ran for the door.

         As Joseph began to exit, a large wall appeared in front of him.  Slamming fully unaware into it, the air left his lungs and sent him sprawling backwards to the floor.  Larson Briggs merely grunted as he relaxed his body after the impact.

         “I’m sorry, Storm.”  Briggs raised his rifle and aimed it at Joseph’s head.

         Kicking from the ground, Joseph struck the side of the big man’s knee, altering his aim slightly and causing him to join Joseph on the floor.  The bullet that was fired had missed his head by a mere inch.  With his right arm, Joseph knocked the gun out of the big man’s massive hands.

         Getting up on one knee, Joseph raised his pistol and pointed it at Briggs.  “Stay down, Beef.  This doesn’t concern you.”  He kept the aim steady as he rose once again to his feet and grabbed his pack.  The big man stayed on the ground, sitting up slightly to hold his shattered kneecap. 

         “Even you can’t run away from these people, Storm.  They’ll have the entire regiment searching for you by nightfall.  Just come peacefully and I’ll make sure they don’t shoot you.  I owe you at least that, you did save my life several times.”

         “Just stay down, my friend.  Believe me when I say I don’t want to hurt you.”  Walking backwards, Joseph glanced a few times outside of the doorway to make sure the way was clear.  “Good-bye old friend.  Give the Interrogator my thanks for his hospitality.  If he’s lucky, we’ll never meet again.”  Turning around, Joseph rolled back just enough to prevent the punch aimed at his head to strike flush on his jaw and knock him out cold.  Sprawling backwards, Joseph steadied himself by grabbing a pole on the nearby bar ledge.

         The Guardsman that had almost floored Joseph pushed his advantage and rushed after him.  After dodging several more blows, Joseph’s head began to clear.  Blocking the man’s next strike, Joseph countered and struck the man right in the throat.  The trim man fell to his knees, gasping for air.  Joseph brought a knee up into the man’s jaw and sent him to the floor. 

         Heading once again to the exit, Joseph stopped when he heard a click behind him.  Turning around, he saw Briggs on the ground, rifle up and aimed directly at him.

         Not saying a word, Joseph simply looked into Brigg’s eyes and sighed.  The large man’s expression softened as he dropped his aim.

         “Get out of here, before the others arrive.  Emperor speed my friend.”

         Nodding to his friend, Joseph ran outside and headed towards the boardwalk.

         Once he was a couple hundred feet away, Joseph heard shots directed his way.  Sirens bleated out and crept closer to the area.  Frantically, he searched for a quick way out of the vicinity.  Bullets and las-fire started to get closer to the ground behind him.

         A huge wash of heated air hit Joseph’s body, causing him to close his eyes and bring his hands up to cover his face.  Once the heat became tolerable, Joseph re-opened his eyes and saw Captain Yrius Vin Holson standing on a land speeder a few feet away.

         “Well, my boy… looks like you could use some transport after all,” the Captain said amid his laughter.