Turning Point -Warhammer 40k Fan Fiction

Chapter 13 - Confinement

Letting go of the weapon on the ground, Joseph slowly rose and turned to face his fuming attacker.

         “Take my eye, you filthy son of a whore!  Inquisitor or no, you’re gonna be sent to HQ broken!”  Spittle escaped the lips of the wounded man as he spoke.  He constantly took his left hand away from his damaged eye to check for more blood.  His right hand held his rifle steadily aimed at Joseph’s chest.

         “I’ll make you a deal.  Turn around, get back into the truck and leave, and I’ll let you live,” Joseph reasoned in a low and even tone.

         Laughter, half desperate and half mad, rumbled from the belly of the angry Staff Sergeant.  His aim started to dip a bit, the end of his rifle finally resting its aim at Joseph’s legs.

         “I’ll make you a deal, scum.  You try not to bleed to death when I shoot your kneecaps and I’ll call the medic when we get to HQ.”  The laughter ended abruptly and an evil sneer fell across the man’s face.

         Recognizing the danger, Joseph desperately dove to his left to try and reach the cover of the armored car.  The deafening echo from the firing of the wounded man’s gun left a ringing in his right eardrum.  Sprawling to the ground around the backside of the armored vehicle, Joseph rolled onto his left knee and tried to stand.  Sudden weakness from his right leg hobbled him back to one knee.

         As quickly as he had been able to dodge and roll behind the cover of the truck, Joseph was still unable to fully avoid the solid caliber shot from the Staff Sergeant’s rifle.  Even wounded, the man was still a trained soldier and had managed to clip the outside of Joseph’s right kneecap.

         As if sensing Joseph’s attention, blood started pouring out from the small hole in his camouflage pants.  Warm fluid trickled down his calf, yet Joseph still felt no pain.  Knowing the man would make his way around the corner any second, he tried his best to hop towards the front of the vehicle with his good leg.

         Two more shots boomed from behind him, followed by the ping of solid slugs ricocheting from the ground next to him.  Without thought or question, Joseph quickened his pace.

         “Get back here, I’m not finished yet,” the man yelled, barely missing Joseph with his last shot.  “If you keep running, I can’t promise that I’ll only hit your legs!”

         “Frag off!” Joseph replied, suddenly finding it hard to think.  Now that the pain started to creep up to him from his right knee, Joseph found a new struggle just trying to subdue his own rising panic.

         Frantic, Joseph dove around the corner of the front of the vehicle, making it across to the passenger side in a single bound.

         “You know, I don’t think that it’ll be too much trouble for me if you die.  I mean, you killed McCall and Jones, and took out my eye.  It’ll be seen as self defense.”

         Hearing the door of the transport opening on the other side, the Staff Sergeant fired into the driver-side door five times.  Five small holes appeared in the metal door, followed by the screech of ripping metal and broken glass.

         Smiling, the soldier opened the driver side door with a rush, only to find an empty cab and several holes on the other side of the enclosed cabin’s door.  Sure that he had heard the door open from the other side, the man ran around the front of the vehicle.  The Staff Sergeant saw only the closed door with the addition of several new bullet holes from his recent barrage.  His quarry was nowhere in site.  The man’s good eye perked up when he caught sight of a small trail of blood leading back to the rear of the transport.

         The one-eyed soldier was able to take three steps before a wall of muscle landed on top of him, knocking him breathlessly to the ground.  The rifle that was in his right hand skittered away, one shot firing harmlessly into the distance from the abrupt collision.

         Sending three hard punches to the man’s face, Joseph stood back on his feet and stared at the man writhing in pain on the ground.

         “Thanks for breaking my fall.”  Looking up, Joseph could see where a little of his blood still dripped from the top of the vehicle where had climbed on top.  He breathed a quick sigh of relief that the wounded man hadn’t seen it.

         “That blood trail there,” Joseph pointed to the path leading to the rear of the car, “that would be your blood, you poor, dumb bastard.”

         “Chaos, filthy… traitor…” was all the man could force out in between frantic breaths.

         “Chaos?  Not a chance.  Traitor… well I guess that’s in the eyes of the beholder.  I wanted nothing of this, but you forced my hand.  Good night, my friend.”  Joseph struck one last hard right, landing solidly on the man’s chin.  His head knocked back violently and he sprawled out motionless on the ground.

         Sighing, Joseph turned around to get into the vehicle.  Reality rushed back to him as he suddenly realized his surroundings.  Dozens of people were staring aghast, having just witnessed the intense battle.  Looking in all directions quickly, he saw no sign of incoming Guardsmen or local Arbiters.

         Limping hurriedly, he opened the door and jumped into the cab.  Joseph slid over to the driver’s side and started the engine.  Throttling to life, he shifted the vehicle into gear and slammed the gas pedal.  Loud clangs rose out from behind him as the open doors in the rear swung back and forth.  Not worrying about them or even local traffic laws, Joseph concentrated on only one thing…making it to the rendezvous point alive.





         The two miles since he’d ditched the stolen vehicle had been the most painful and arduous walk of Joseph’s life.  The torn sleeve of his jacket made a crude yet effective tourniquet to stench the blood flow from his knee, but did nothing to quell the throbbing pain.

         Assured that no one had seen or followed him, Joseph walked into the grimy, foul smelling bar.  Haggard, mostly older patrons filled the seats.  The place took on a somber mood, the music playing in the background a soft swoon.  Mutters and soft whispers filled the remaining audible noise, with the occasional clink of glass cups meeting a surface.

         Joseph’s feet stuck slightly to the soiled floor as he approached the bar.  Hesitant to even touch the stool to pull it closer to sit on, he decided to stand instead.

         “Don’t turn around, you arrogant little bastard!”  Joseph felt the hard point of a gun pressed against his back to accompany the harsh, whispered words.  “Walk out the back door to the left, and keep a steady pace.”

         A couple to his right seemed to notice the tension of the situation, but did nothing more than stare for a second before taking another swig of their beverage and looking away.  A hard life in a rough urban area quickly taught the people to meddle little in other’s affairs.

         Joseph moved slowly, backing away from the countertop and turning to his left.  Calculating in his mind on how he should proceed, Joseph ultimately decided that a fight in the bar would be too visible and perhaps costly in collateral damage.  Enough innocent blood had been spilt in the past week because of him.

         “The Arbiters are already on alert.  There were two or three following shortly behind me,” Joseph bluffed.  He kept his voice low as he walked casually towards the exit door, the man behind him stuck close with the weapon still pressed against his lower back.

         The twenty paces it took to get to the exit were spent in silence.  Hesitating for a minute, a harsh prod with the weapon from behind prompted Joseph to open the door and exit into the alley behind the establishment.  After a few steps, he heard the door being closed behind him.  With a harsh grip and a shove, the man turned Joseph around to face him.

         “Yuda?” Joseph said in bewilderment.

         Instead of a reply, Yuda Scario delivered a sharp right hook that caught Joseph high on his left cheek.  Trying to roll with the blow, he was still unable to stay on his feet and took a few hard, unbalanced steps before crashing into the trash receptacles nearby.  With a loud crash, Joseph landed in the muck and goo of the bar’s previous night’s leftovers and trash.

         “You son of a bitch!  Were you trying to get the Captain killed?!?  No one authorized you to fire, and I sure as hell didn’t see anyone down there make a move!”  Yuda continued forward, intending to kick Joseph as he waded through the trash sprawled out across the ground.

         Instead of responding, Joseph concentrating on slowing the aggressive man striding towards him.  He flung several large pieces of trash at the advancing man, causing him to stop in place to dodge the missiles.  Finding a clear space on the ground, Joseph leveraged himself back to his feet.  Already exhausted, the pain from his leg caused him to yelp out a short cry as he tried to balance himself into a solid defensive stance.  Blood was already starting to ooze out from the make-shift bandage around his knee.

         “Come on, Yuda.  Captain won’t like this.”  Joseph glanced quickly to his right down the alley way to see the tall and bulky figure of Kuro leaning casually on a civilian passenger vehicle.

         Another fist screamed towards Joseph as he turned back to face Yuda.  Reacting instantaneously, Joseph dodged to his left and avoided the strike.  Working with pure instincts, he followed up with a left hook to Scario’s body.  The blow landed flush on the man’s ribs, prompting a pained gust of air to escape from Yuda’s mouth.

         “Little man’s got fight, Yu.  Better not take him lightly,” Kuro called out from across the alley in a mocking tone.

         Taking a few steps back, Scario regained control of his breathing as he clutched his side.

         “I’ve got this one, Kuro.  You just let me worry about this, and I’ll handle the Captain!”

         “This is crazy!  I don’t want to fight you!  Let’s get back to the ship and talk to the Captain…”  A swift kick aimed at Joseph’s abdomen interrupted him before he could finish. 

         Acting quickly, Joseph was able to deflect the incoming kick down and away from him.  The follow-through from the punt still hit the outside of Joseph’s wounded leg, immediately sending a jolt of pain up his spine.  Clutching the bullet wound with one hand, Joseph fell down onto his left knee. 

            A thunderous uppercut rocked Joseph’s head back with titan like force.  Falling straight onto his back, the ground underneath of him seemed to swim and dance.  Darkness enveloped his vision, and he could swear someone familiar was calling his name.  After a few more seconds of blackness, his vision came rushing breifly back.  Right before he fell into the deep abyss of unconsciousness, Joseph heard Yuda’s laughter mocking him in the background.

         “Load him up into the car, Kuro.  We’ll lock him up in the brig until the Captain gets back.”