This story is an unofficial story based, without permission, on the Warhammer/Warhammer 40,000 intellectual property owned by Games Workshop Ltd.
"I'm coming for you Fury."
The words coming from the comm echoed around the large chamber, strong despite the distortion and static of the comm unit. Flanked by the twins, he stood at the crest of the dais that dominated the back wall of the chamber, and extended a good ten meters in as well.
He looked over the two teams preparing his ambush, noting their efficient movements. They had barricaded the main entrance, a pair of twenty metre high oaken doors, and had secured the two side passages, one in each back corner, with heavy iron bars found in an unlocked store room. Benches had been upturned to create a path leading straight from the main doors to the dais, and it was these that his team was sheltering behind now, waiting for the heretic to break into the room, before they opened fire from both sides.
The stage was set
Lucius followed Rahvin down the long, wide corridor, gesturing for Phil to hurry up. The mutant was flagging, the burden of his huge cannon becoming too much for even his unnatural strength to support for much longer.
"Boss," he began, "it's Phil, he can't keep going at this pace for much longer."
Rahvin ignored him, striding up to the end of the corridor and a pair of huge double doors before turning to face Lucius.
"We're here now anyway. Rest, if you need to." The words held a trace of scorn, as if he himself never needed to rest for anything. Rahvin turned and unsheathed his sword, staring at the old wood of the doors.
Phil almost collapsed down to the floor, and Lucius followed him, albeit more slowly. He didn't want to appear weak, especially not to this master. He leaned back against the bare stone of the wall, closing his eyes.
He was startled awake when Rahvin spoke. "He is in the next room." There could be no doubt who "he" was. Fury. The man Rahvin had baited and chased across an entire subsector. The man who had come so close to stopping Rahvin's machinations once before, and who now kept up the hunt incessantly.
Lucius climbed to his feet. Well, he would stop today. He would die today.
"You still have those grenades?" asked Rahvin, turning to face him.
"Yeah, two frags and a smoke."
"Give them to me."
Lucius unfastened his grenade pouch from his thigh and passed it to Rahvin. Phil stood up, his cannon held ready, the barrels already beginning to cycle. "How many are there, boss?" asked Lucius. If there were more than five or six, they were in trouble, even with the element of surprise.
"At least a dozen, more likely a score." Rahvin's voice was disinterested as he wedged the grenades into cracks in the doors, as if he had been reading out kraii scores instead of announcing their death sentence. Then again, knowing his boss, he'd have a way planned to get them out of this mess.
"Stand back," came Rahvin's voice.
Lucius obeyed and stepped well back, pressing himself against the wall, ready for what was sure to be a bloodbath.
"Three."
Lucius clutched his lasgun, switching the selector to semi-auto.
"Two."
He heard Phil's cannon cycle up, the rotating barrels shrill in the almost silence.
"One."
Lucius looked away from the doors and braced himself.
The doors exploded with a deafening blast, pieces of shattered wood flying everywhere and forcing his men into cover. A hulking shape in black power armour strode through the smoke and fire, drawing and firing his pistol in one action. Vyrell stood up at the wrong moment and caught a bolt in her stomach, sending her flying back into the wall, broken and bleeding. Lyrahh jumped up to take a shot, but before she could do anything a lasbolt cracked out of the smoke and took her high in the chest. She folded, crumpling to the ground as more of his team stood, too many to kill at once, a good twenty-five men and women, all armed and armoured. They opened fire on the magus, who was still walking steadily towards the dais, but the shots stopped in mid-air, dissipated by some form of energy field.
He turned to Kryllex, his psyker, as a deformed mutant lumbered out of the smoke, raking the benches, and his people, with high calibre shots from a massive, belt-fed cannon slug from its shoulder. "Is the field psychic?" he asked above the screams of his subordinates.
Kryllex nodded, sweat beading on his brow. "Yes, but the psyker generating it is incredibly strong. A field this size shouldn't be able to stop that amount of firepower."
"Can you break it?"
"Are you joking? I can't even disrupt it. I'm out of my league here, lord. The thing controlling that field is a beta level psyker, at least. It's all I can do to keep it from detonating on us."
"It could do that?"
"Yes. It's a telekinetic force shield. If the psyker is strong enough, it can be made to expand explosively. It will basically rip us all apart, just with the pressure."
"Damn."
The magus was almost at the foot of the dais, his followers close behind him, keeping within the shield as they finished off the rest of his team with short, brutal bursts from their weapons. The magus looked up at him. His jet-black eyes glinted in the half-light afforded by the smoking torches, and flaming, torn benches where las rounds had set them aflame.
The magus holstered his pistol, waving a finger at him. "Got you, Fury. No running for you now." The magus drew his daemon sword, levelling it at him. "Why don't you come down her so you can die like a man."
He replied by drawing his glittering falchion from its sheath on his back, holding the heavy blade before him in a guard position. "Why don't you come up here to get me?"
Rahvin launched himself up the steps of the dais, his armour creaking as the servomotors in the legs were strained by his leap. He reached the top, barely a meter from Fury, and used his momentum to power an overhead blow, aimed to smash his opponent's head open. An instant before it landed, Fury's blade appeared below it, stopping the strike inches from his face.
The two stood, immobile. Rahvin glared into Fury's eyes, trying to destroy him with will alone. A pity he was not a psyker. But he had others to do that for him. He spun back, just avoiding a sweeping slash aimed at his throat.
Rahvin stepped close with speed belying his stature, and hammered at his nemesis' guard. He struck again and again, but each time Fury's blade was there to deflect the blow, twisting and turning in silver arcs. No matter how hard he tried, Rahvin could not penetrate the silver web, the falchion appearing wherever he struck to parry or block. Fury, damn him, never moved from his spot, his feet remaining rooted to the floor as he thwarted every attempt Rahvin made to strike him down.
Snarling viciously, Rahvin lashed out with his booted foot, kicking Fury's legs from under him and sending him sprawling to the floor. Taking advantage of his opponent's disadvantage, he stepped in with a heavy slash, aimed downwards to cleave Fury from head to toe as he lay on the floor. Fury, however, had other ideas. Rolling swiftly, he avoided the strike, getting smoothly to his feet.
"You need to try harder than that if you want a chance of killing me, Heretic." Fury's voice was light, as if he were enjoying the conflict.
Rahvin snarled. "You haven't seen anything yet." Leaping at his enemy, he felt the power of the daemon bound to his sword flood into him with his attack. Suddenly the tide was changed, with Fury on the back foot, trying desperately to parry the magus' chaos-infused strikes. Rahvin smashed aside his opponent's guard, sparks flying where the two weapons met, and battered the brass pommel into Fury's jaw.
Fury staggered back, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. Rahvin stepped in, unwilling to lose his advantage, and hammered his armoured fist into Fury's gut. Fury doubled over, grunting as the wind was forced out of his lungs, and his falchion dropped from suddenly limp fingers.
Rahvin drew back, extending his sword to rest in the hollow of Fury's throat. "Never underestimate the power of Chaos, Inquisitor."
Fury regained his feet, standing straight, seemingly unaware of the sword point nestled at his neck.
Rahvin beckoned with his free hand. "Now be a good little Inquisitor and give me my sceptre. I know you have it."
Hive World Terra