Secret War: Warhammer 40,000 - Ben Agar (novels in english .txt) 📗

I as it slid for a few metres. The rear suddenly slipped outward; then the van toppled onto its left side; I was sitting on the right, so my feet were all of a sudden hanging in the air, and my long hair hung forward. The horrific impact jarred me head to toe. I yelled out, forced to writhe and reel with the constant bumping and bashing, but could hardly hear myself over the incessant screeching of the bodywork it's over the road.

I don't know how long it went on or how far we slid, but it felt like a frigging lifetime before it bashed hard against what must've been another vehicle. Causing more cries and me more blinding pain. It bounced and slid another metre more before stopping.

Winded, gasping for air, I looked around; the impact had taken out the interior lights, leaving everything endowed in darkness. I could hear pained groaning and moaning, and I hurt all over like all hell; my limbs, neck, and head were the worst; I quickly found I could move, that nothing was broken.

"Everyone alright?" I called; the only replies I got were more moans and the creaking of the damaged bodywork.

"Okay, fair enough," I said as I undid my restraint and dropped onto the 'floor' with as much grace I could muster under the circumstance, which wasn't much, but more than most.

With a shaking hand, I activated my Microbead but found only static.

"Frig!" I snarled.

Then I heard from outside the running of heavy boots toward the back, and I quickly counted about a dozen pairs.

I would've told everyone to get down or find cover but knew it'd be pointless; instead, I just drew my pistol and limped toward the back door, flicking off the safety.

"What the hell's going on?" groaned Helma as I passed her.

"It's an ambush, a frigging ambush," I whispered. "Keep quiet."

She opened her mouth to argue but stopped as we heard the familiar hissing of a las-cutter and saw the metal around the lock begin to turn orange and bulge in a circular motion.

I had a few options here, stand right in the open and gun down anyone trying to get in, that's if they attempted that, but my gut said they'd try to throw in a grenade through the gap first, so I slid beside the door and pushed my shoulder against the wall. My heart was in my throat as I tried to ignore my aching limbs and hoped to hell I was right.

Eventually, the las-cutter did its job, and with a clang, the chunk was kicked in.

A second later, the grenade flew through, and my body reacted on its own, my hand snapped out, caught it, and with a flick of a wrist, I tossed it outside.

I allowed myself a smile as I heard the ambushers cries of dismay and the explosion, then the agonised screams afterwards.

I spun into a sidekick which smashed open the door, and in a microsecond, I'd taken in my surroundings, the swirling smoke from the explosive, the six dead and stunned figures laying on the rockcrete. Figures wearing the familiar armour and uniform of the Adeptus Arbites, two others in view were still coherent; one was on his back, raising his shotgun. The other was on his feet, just about to pull the trigger of his. My autopistol spat twice; the manstopper rounds blew out the back of the standing Arbite's skull, then the prone one's chest. Without hesitation, I jumped outside, twisting in mid-air and fired wildly to pin the four remaining arbites on the van's sides. My gambit worked; they didn't expect such a reckless move and pulled back. I landed a good five meters away and darted behind the first vehicle on my right, cutting down the pair there with a withering hail of fire as they were busy falling back.

The last two peered around the van's corner, the first crouched, the second standing and fired their shotguns my way, forcing me to duck behind the vehicle with a curse. As I did, I caught a glimpse of many more men in arbites uniforms emerging from the pulled over vehicles ahead, shotguns raising.

I couldn't help but smile in admiration at such brilliantly planned and executed ambush and checked over my shoulder to see if there were more converging on our back, and there was, a good twenty or so. It must've been fully half of the Arbitrator force in the entire hive taking part in this, assuming they were Arbites at all.

My vehicle was being torn apart; I knew it wouldn't last much longer, so I reloaded and darted across the highway, shooting at the two arbites behind the van on the way. I didn't glimpse the figure sprinting straight at me until it was almost too late, and instinct made me throw myself to the ground, sensing, not seeing the sword slash, which almost killed me.

In a split second, I stood and came face to face with a mask, a mask like those worn by the assassins of the Vindicare temple. Faster than thought, the man slashed, forcing me to lean back from its path. Then I saw the two Arbites were emerging from the corner of the crashed van.

"No!" I cried and kicked at my assailant while trying to bring my pistol to bear. But like liquid, the man weaved out the way and went to dissect me from the crotch to head with an upward cut. I threw myself aside and managed one shot at the Arbites before he was on me again, cutting at my arm. I pulled back my aim and attempted to shoot him through the face, but he'd already moved onto my left flank. My peripheral vision saw him trying to stab at my ribs, and I jumped out of its path. I twisted to fire a flurry at the Arbites, just as the first was stepping to look inside. My desperate shots forced him to hesitate and flinch, none hit directly, but one lucky round ricocheted off the bodywork and into his foot.

The Arbite screamed and fell.

The Masked man threw a low, knee breaking roundhouse kick that I backstepped, and he followed with a diagonal slash at my head that I darted aside of.

Instantly, I recognised that style; I would've been shocked if I didn't know he was a part of this already.

"Hi, Dad," I said and fired at him, forcing him to dart away, then turned and cut down the remaining Arbite with a flurry of shots. "Can't, in all honesty, say I've missed you."

My pistol clicked dry; I dropped it, spun and drew my sword just in time to smash aside Serghar's thrust. He stabbed at my skull, which I weaved under and countered with a downward diagonal cut he parried. We wheeled back and activated our sword's power fields almost at once.

I was smiling; I should've been terrified at even the slightest prospect of fighting my infamous father. Serghar Kaltos was the best of the best, held in either awe or begrudging respect of the mercenary assassin organisations throughout the Calixis sector and even the Inquisition. He was a un bested master of the blade with decades more experience than me. But yet here I was utterly unafraid, joyous even! Perhaps it was because of the knowledge that I couldn't die? I doubted that, as I'd felt a similar joy when fighting the two death cult assassins earlier and then didn't know I was a perpetual.

I was lost in thought, so Serghar struck first, but my body moved seemingly on its own, sidestepping his stab and countered with an upward diagonal cut at his open ribs. Despite this, he parried with breathtaking speed then attacked with an overhead vertical slash. I danced back of it, barely. And he continued his offence, dashing at me like lightning with a thrust I blocked. I turned into a horizontal blow that he parried again and followed with a downward cut Serghar back stepped.

It was then the advancing Arbites passed by us, their heavy footfalls crunching over the rockcrete.

"Shit!" I snarled, so caught up in the combat I'd forgotten about them entirely. With a flick of the wrist, I had a knife in hand and threw it at Serghar's face. Serghar leaned out of its path, which allowed my front kick to crash against his torso, throwing him against a parked vehicle so hard it dented inward, and he fell on his face.

I dashed at the nearest Arbites' back and cut him in two before he had any clue I was there. The two on his sides saw this, and impressively fast, they turned to fire, but I was already behind the left Arbites' back and stabbing him through the chest. I spun on my heels, so the screaming impaled Arbite was now facing the next on the left just as he opened fire, abruptly silencing him, and I threw another knife into the visor of the one on the right. With a snarl and a sidekick, I sent the dead Arbite crashing into his comrade with bone-crunching force.

The others, hearing the fire behind them, turned to investigate, but now I had a shotgun. I exploded one's stomach as he was in mid-turn. Not the most kindly of kills, but I had very little chance to be extremely accurate in my situation. Then relieved another of his left leg before I was forced to sprint into the cover of a nearby vehicle, a millisecond before their shots cut through the air where I just stood.

I knew that vehicle wouldn't last long under such a barrage, so I moved and slid over another's bonnet, crouched and turned to return fire with my new shotgun, but then frigging Serghar Kaltos was on me again.

His power sword cut clean through my shotgun while was I getting to my feet, and I was drawing my sword when his sidekick crashed painfully into my gut, sending me reeling back, winded.

I only just managed to duck his darting sword and wheeled from his following thrust, which burst through a vehicle door like it was butter. He sliced through it and pivoted into a horizontal cut I backpedalled. Trying to get my breathing back, I dashed into his flank, aiming a low snap kick at his shin boot knife out. Serghar danced out the way and countered with a stab. But that attack had granted me the precious milliseconds, which allowed me to draw my sword, activate it in a blaze of blue and smash his stab off course and him off balance. He leaned back from my back fist and cut up diagonally at my torso. I leapt desperately to the right just fast enough to barely make it out the way but not soon enough to keep it cutting a huge chunk off my flak jacket.

I clenched my teeth, seeing the Arbites had the van surrounded and were approaching the doors, weapons raised.

I couldn't do anything; my friends were dead, I'd failed again.

I weaved beneath Serghar's next slash and countered with a horizontal arc and a snarl. Damn it! If I couldn't save them, I'd frigging avenge them! Even if it meant killing my father, assuming this masked man was my father, he could easily be another Feuilt.

Serghar parried and reposted with a slice at my legs, forcing me to dart back. I heard an explosion and the inevitable deathly screams; I blocked Serghar's next slash and risked another look. What I saw made me gasp. More Arbites were on the ground, dead or stunned and injured. A figure fast like lightning emerged from the van, power scimitar decapitating two Arbites as at his flanks Helma and Verenth cut down the remainder. Helma with her hellgun, Verenth with his autopistol.

I laughed with relief and back-peddled Serghar's vertical cut, then threw a low roundhouse kick; he sidestepped, but with the same leg, my front kick smashed hard against his hip sending him stumbling to the ground. I