The time passed with a slowness that would've made even the most patient of men near mad with restlessness. Stuck, deep underground in a hermetically sealed plasteel and permacrete box. Locked up tighter than an Imperial noble's virgin daughter on a pleasure world, with nothing of the Legion's preferred pastimes to at least provide distraction. Distraction was certainly something each Legionnaire would've wished for; as anything would've been better than the simmering fury that seemed to radiate from each of the monstrously armored men as they sat or stood in their temporary quarters. Even these rooms, which had been cordially provided to the Astartes, were cramped by their very nature.

These were facilities clearly designed for normal sized humans in mind; not at any point were they to have been considered for usage by the Space Marines in any way, shape, or form. The roof was just barely clearing for even the smallest among their towering marines, and if they stood to the center of the rooms and reached out to either side, they could touch the walls with ease. The beds were far too small to lay upon, the chairs too small for their frames to use. And desks were simply too cluttered with old crates; just as much of the floors were in other spaces. In the room Gailus had been provided, this was much the same.

The Captain sat on the bunk he was left with, and had pondered for some time. Lost in the depths of his thoughts and anger. How all this had come to fruition underneath his nose, when he was one of the more favored commanders of his Legion; this had left him somewhat torn by comparison. He felt that he should've seen through the veil; that he should've known better and taken actions to protect his soldiers. Or at the very lest try to stop the unfolding treachery from ever happening in the first place. Very well if he could've at least challenged his Primarch on the issue; even if he was pounded to bloody pulp for it. His honor at least, would've been intact by his death.

To top that thought off, it would have enabled his men to see through just as he and they did now. But it would have been impossible for them to flee from such heresy. They would've fought futilely, like heroes. Heroes, the very thought almost made him laugh. The concept was foolish; the Ninth Legion had no heroes to speak of. They were, after their old heritage was purged as the War Hounds, nothing more than mere butchers. Maddened bloodletters, designed by their Primarch to bring malicious, bloody compliance to all those who resisted their wills and whims.

Here, they had been after all. Reaping a vicious tally through the vastness of a hive city. One that likely could've been brought into compliance once again with far less bloodshed. Now though, it was impossible. For what made even the bunker's depths shudder still had doomed this world to eternally be a barren, broken ruined rock. Bereft of all natural life for many millennia to come.

You did spare many children here today. This was the only thought that attempted to placate his mind. In his orders to his Company, he had saved thousands of children and several hundred guardians of adult ages. They, hopefully, were locked safely under the guard of Zafel in the hab block's bunker complex. His hud didn't display a flatline signal for the old Sergeant, so it was safe to assume that they were indeed safe. That thought did comfort him somewhat, as he removed his heavy helmet and set it beside him. He sat there, staring into the small mirror across the room from him.

His face bore plenty of scars. Some old, from his youthful times as an Aspirant to the Legion. others were from the many campaigns he had undertook during the Crusade and his service on Terra. Still, he was handsome for the most part. At least, as long as he wasn't snatched by the grimace he suddenly held on his countenance. The butcher's nails he had implanted were very fickle, aggravating things. They acted up when he was out of combat for extended periods of time. Making him feel physical and mental trauma the longer he strayed from his desire to fight. Thankfully, many years of careful training and suggestion by the old Sergeant had taught him to fight these emotions, as he heard a rapping at his door.

"Who dares disturb my meditation?" He said sternly, looking up at the ancient bulkhead.

"Um..." A soft, feminine voice answered, before opening the door and stepping inside. "That would be me, honored Captain. Supply Sergeant Tira, at your service.

"Why would the Colonel send me a wench like you? I have not requested anything." He replied, watching her look as if she were trying to say something; but clearly decided better of it as she looked over his gory battleplate.

"I was issued orders to request an audience with you in the command center. Within a few hours, it will be atmospherically safe for your warriors to venture out and attempt to regain contact with your Legion." She blushed at how he had addressed her.

"I will be there shortly then," He nodded, replacing his helmet and rising to his full height. Towering over the smallish woman as he gathered his weapon and other small pieces of equipment. "Did you have any further orders, Sergeant? Or are you simply here to stare?"

"Oh.... Um..." She bit her lip, her cheeks rosy and emphasizing her freckled face as she shook her head. Clearly she was embarrassed. "N....No Captain. Although... I can tidy up your quarters a bit if you like?"

"That will be fine," Gailus patted her shoulder, slipping past her and heading down a long corridor to his left.

He headed down two flights of stairs before arriving at the command center level of the bunker complex. Here, several dozen officers were busy monitoring various servitor consoles and data slates. Checking over current maps of the hive and the surrounding terrain. Comparing samples secured by biohazard filters placed in the ventilation systems of the bunker. They also seemed to be managing to raise communications with other legionnaires that were hidden away in other bunkers across the city.

"Ah, good timing Captain. We just managed to contact Sergeant Typhon of the Death Guard." The Colonel addressed in greeting, looking at the massive Terminator as he glanced around.

"Death Guard?" He looked at the man curiously. "They were deployed to the farming districts outside of the main hive."

"Yes Captain, they were. However Sergeant Typhon had invaded an enemy militia strong point in the sector and captured their bunker complexes. He has been updating us on the current situation." The Firehawk commander gestured to the vox operator, who was speaking to someone over the line.

"What has he informed us of lately?" Gailus was intrigued. Admittedly, it was nice to know other survivors had made it aside his own brothers.

"Apparently, his captain was still aboard the Eistenstein in orbit. And sent a single transmission just prior to the virus bombing being initiated. Warning the Death Guard of the coming storm, and that... unfortunately, the Warmaster and his forces still in orbit have turned Traitor." The Colonel's face was somber, and the room grew very sober and silent at those words as the Captain took in all of this information.

Finally, he managed words; likely surprising the older commander. "How many of his forces remain? We must regroup and prepare to put up effective resistance in the ruins of the hive."

"He said that half his Company of brothers had survived with him. But that there is also a contingent of Emperor's Children Marines that took shelter in the Governor's palace that could be rounded up for support." The Colonel provided a data slate that brought up a topographic map of the area. Marking the various positions reported of all Astartes survivors known and other Firehawk bunkers operating in the hive.

"So we have roughly five full Regiments of your troops, and maybe four companies worth of Astartes we can rally." The Captain removed his helmet, his brow furrowed in deep thought. "How many of your men are siege defense regiments?"

"Only two sir," The Colonel sighed, examining the placements of his bunkers. "The rest of us are mechanized or armored regiments. Our own bunker here is mostly mechanized infantry. However, my captains in the siege regiments could theoretically form a fighting perimeter around a single strategic location while our other forces operate to plug gaps or counter attack."

"Interesting," Gailus nodded, "The Death Guard will do well to assist in that defense. I can see if the Emperor's Children can organize with your armored units. And my World Eaters will support your infantry."

"But where will be our location to defend?" The Colonel gestured to a few possible areas. "The Governor's palace is a formidable fortress. My men can garrison it and the void shields of the palace is capable of surviving even the worst orbital bombardment for months. However the main armory facilities may also serve us well. If we dig in there, we'll have access to munitions and supplies for years."

"I say the armories then," Gailus tapped the location of the higher spire armory in question. "Put out the request to my brothers and the other Legionnaires. And notify your men. We will make our stand at the armory."

"By your orders, Captain," The Colonel began handing out orders and requests to his various vox operators. The command center lighting up as communiques were sent and received.

"Am I required any further?" the World Eater crossed his massive gauntlets, looking at the officers. "Also may I request knowing why I was sent for by your supply Sergeant?"

"You are no longer required Captain," The Colonel saluted before chuckling. "As for Tira, I sent her because she is a very big fan of Space Marines, and she's very shy."

The World Eater said nothing further, and left back for his quarters again. Content to wait until he could leave the bunker to organize his own Rebellion against those who had betrayed him and his fellows. Upon entering his room again, he was slightly surprised to see how tidied up the place had been made. All the old crates and file cases were removed, making the space much more space and open by comparison to how it had been just minutes prior.

The young, smallish woman stood dusting off the desk. Slightly bent over, taking painstaking care to clean every inch of the room as she had taken to his request he supposed. He took the time to clear his throat, making her squeak; much to his amusement she comically turned around. Looking at his mighty armored form with a deep blush before she saluted him.

"Your ro...room is prepared, honored Captain." She stammered, as he nodded and set his helmet on the desk she had just dusted.

"Thank you Sergeant," He looked over her work appreciatively. "You do your duties well. The Imperium would do well to have more servants such as yourself in its ranks."

"Tha...Thank you sir." She bowed to the Astarte, after slipping a bit away from his hulking presence.

"The Colonel requested your presence back in your storehouse, I believe." Gailus glanced back to her and nodded almost dismissively. "I will be departing for the surface in a few hours with my brothers, so it is unlikely we will meet again. So thank you, for the small comforts you have offered me before my final days."

"Your final days?" She looked at the Captain with slight surprise on her features. "Sir, do you not have faith in yourself and your men?"

"Faith and Duty only go so far, when facing down vast swathes of Traitors you once called Brothers." He retorted, coming to the door. "Keep yourself tucked away and hidden, young lady. The Imperium will need fine soldiers like you if it's to survive."

"But the Imperium will need men li-" He hit the activation stud and closed the bulkhead door, not wanting to hear her argument. A disagreement, especially as his mind started to stress on the conceptualization of his final stand and ultimately his demise.

And so it was, he turned to the desk and began to look over the data he had available to him. His helmet had analyzed all the individual pict recordings and mappings of both the route to the Governor's palace, as well as the entire complex itself. Including the fortified armies contained beneath the palace facilities. He studied every detail that could be recalled in his extensive memory. The palace was a formidable defensive work. Built to act as the strongest bastion in the entire world; it stood bristling with various heavy gun emplacements, automated weaponry, massive artillery posts, and hefty anti-tank positions. Bunkers lined the perimeter, and deep trenchworks stood ready to service the outer defenses. Not only to mention, that these trench lines were well provided for with their own weaponry and artillery support positions.

If there was any place to make a last stand, this would be it. Thought not even close, but a mere drop in the ocean compared to say Terra's palace defenses; this place would become a legendary bastion with the ragtag army of the Emperor's Avenging Angels standing to protect it. Avenging Angels, that was indeed what they had become now. For the lives of their Brothers, the Emperor's own chosen Astartes, had been slain and stabbed in the back. Every death would be paid back; a blood tribute to be demanded and received by those very Traitors.

If the Warmaster will turn his back on us, we shall make him and his ilk suffer tenfold in measure to our pain Gailus thought to himself, as he wrapped up his preparations.

He took the time to make a single silent prayer; that if he should fall in battle, that he be honored to cast many Traitors to hell with him. He rose from his seat at the desk, replaced his helmet, and left for the blast doors of the bunker. His squad was already formed up, waiting promptly for him. Each of them were busy checking over their weapons of choice, nodding as they were joined by their Captain. Gailus only gave a curt nod to the operators of the bunker entrance, watching as they sealed the entrance of the bunker's internal areas, and released the Astartes to the still toxified world above.

The planet smelled of festering death. The Space Marines nearly choked through their sealed suits of power armor; their enhanced senses allowing them to still get a whiff of the horrendous scent. In the old building that shielded the bunker, they were forced to wade their knee deep piles of sludgy biological material. This was all that was left to show the lifer eater virus's grisly work. Still a far worse fate this hive had endured, compared to their much calmer, more focused axe that had been planned to descend on the capital city prior.

Yet now, the Astartes had found they had much more in common with the city's former defenders; as they were navigating the maze of streets filled with the slushy rivers of the dead. Heading for the only bastion left that could offer resistance to an implacable force. He led his men with dedication to the great, looming walls and gatehouse of the palace grounds.

On his way in, he had passed a series of Death Guard Tactical marines and Devastator squads. They were dispersed, rather efficiently and effectively through the lines of trenches and bunkers. Alongside them were many of the survivors of his Company. They had come per his specifications that had been broadcast. And they stood ready, glaring angrily out at the approaches to the palace. Their weapons revving or gripped so tightly they could've crushed a man's skull with ease. Lastly, on the walls and manning the fortress guns were the contingent of Emperor's Children that had been here already.

He and his retinue of veterans had passed the gatehouse, and watched as a delegation of those marines made approach. They were, by the Captain's figuring, some of the most haughty and uptight arses of the Imperium at-large; but today he had much respect for them as their leader bowed before him.

"Greetings Captain Gailus," The lead marine addressed him, his voice like silk even behind his helmet's vox grille. "My Brothers have done well to prepare the lines as you requested. It has been difficult to accomplish, but we have done our best."

"You did good," Was all he answered with, not wanting to waste breath on mincing words.

"Apologies. If you need to speak further, here are mine and my brothers' vox codes. Just ask for Sergeant Nimera." He said, syncing up with the network between the Astarte's displays.

"Very well, I will keep it in mi-"

The group was shook when a massive series of explosions began to pound the palace's rebooted void shields. The world outside of that barrier looked as if it was being scorched anew. Like the fire and brimstone of some long, forgotten religious visage of hell was cascading in a wave against it. Instinctively, Gailus and his brothers had moved into covered positions overlooking the future battlefield from the walls. whilst the Emperor's Children had moved to join their fellows on the heavy fortress guns. Commanding the various squads dispersed among them to prepare for targets in the skies and on the ground.

The good Captain made sure to issue his only orders, as he looked out and down to the fields beyond the hive city. Watching the massed formations shooting down from orbit and deploying. Seeing the twinkling of familiar, but infuriating white and blue armor forming ranks. "When they come, my brothers, kill them all."

An outrageous, vicious uproar accompanied his commands, as he smiled behind his helmet. Observing his brothers raising their weapons defiantly and shouting with burning hatred to the now advancing hordes of Traitor Astartes. Out among the massed array of charging madmen and Heretics, he saw one figure. One that stood out from all the rest. This man, or monster, now, as Gailus considered it, made the old Astarte's blood boil.

Leading the pack, was the one and only Primarch of the World Eaters. The primogenitor of his own bloodline, and the root cause for his internal struggle with the raging desire to slaughter. The one who had driven him to near madness with hatred and bloodlust. The great, and terrible master of his former Legion.

"ANGRON!" He howled to the high winds, his voice carrying far through the filling streets of Heretic battle brothers as they poured over the walls.

He wanted the man to know his pain, his feelings of betrayal, and his anger. He wanted him to know how much he desired to brutalize him, as he rose up and watched as the bombardment from orbit petered out. Obviously the men in orbit valued the World Eaters, or they would've maintained fire as he leapt from the palace walls and stood among the trenches.

It was life and death. A struggle of magnitude that had never been seen before; and he doubted would ever be achieved again. Brothers met brothers in furious, savage combat. Slamming into each other's lines with almost reckless abandon. Three-hundred world eaters standing in the trench lines, hacking and slashing against their former brethren. Fifty Death Guard specialists dug in to bunkers, artillery posts, and rearward trenches; blasting out at the enemy with their storm bolters, las-cannons, and heavy stubbers.

The Emperor's Children were hammering away at the hordes from the walls. Their heavier weapons and the fortress guns on the walls taking chunks at a time from the Traitor's ranks. Their disciplined fire mixing with the close range defenses of the Death Guard to provide a beautiful symphony of death. They were careful as they could be, to avoid hitting the identified friendlies led by Gailus, as he stood at the forefront of the assault.

His brilliant, huge form towering among even his brethren and the Traitors as he lashed out deftly against any who opted to cross blades with him. His form almost elegantly dancing around the front of the trenches, as he wove his way into groups and slashed viciously into his former brothers. Blind fury controlling his every thought, as he gutted marines and locked axes with another he recognized.

His former mentor, another veteran Captain of the 19th Company. "Ghalvar Blackheart, you have committed the greatest sins against our most esteemed Imperium and the Emperor! The sentence is Death!"

Gailus growled and roared, as the two traded relentless blows. The more veteran Captain 's movements was unearthly, even for the superhuman abilities of the Astartes. His strength kept the loyal World Eater on his guard at every moment, and he seemed to have a berserker fury that was heightened compared to prior fights they had engaged in years ago during his training. They countered each other's every move, drawing an odd awe from the others who were equally embattled as their weapons clashed.

"I am no Traitor. My loyalty is resolute. I serve our Father and the Warmaster's wishes." Ghalvar finally responded, as he kicked out and staggered the Captain back before lashing out with a hefty strike.

His chain axe struck deep in a chink of Gailus' armor, ripping a deep gash to the bone of his right shoulder. Incapacitating the Loyalist's ability to effectively utilize his two-handed chain axe as he stood there, battered and bleeding. But fortunately, not broken; as the World Eater howled and charged his foe with anger blazing in his eyes. He tackled the smaller Astarte to the ground, landing atop him and beginning to furiously pound his helmet with his armored fist. Damaging the Marine's sensor arrays and denting his helmet in deeply, which caused pain when the helmet lenses shattered and blew back into his eyes.

Having drawn blood, and caused immense pain to the Traitor; Gailus' bloodlust was up. And it drove him into a frenzy; as he drew his combat knife and began to hack, slash, and stab his former master vigorously. He kept attacking him as the Astarte struggled to extricate himself under the massive weight of his former student, crying out from the agonies inflicted upon him until he eventually fell still and silent.

His armor was covered in the thick, warm sprays of blood. Giving him a gruesome appearance as he finally rose. Barely taking time to check his shoulder as he looked around. Seeing that the battle was in its losing stages. The Death Guard had fell back to the walls, trying to cover a fighting withdrawal for his Brothers who still defended with incredible courage and honour against their numerous enemies. His quick check of his databases in his helmet told him that many of his Brothers had fallen in battle. Confirmed killed in action. Their vitals silenced, their lives ended brutally. The only way that they would've wanted; to perish on a battlefield in service to the Emperor.

But this drove the Captain mad; the mere concept that they had fallen, despite how honorable they had passed, to his former brothers was infuriating to no end. And so, he limped from his position after claiming his former mentor's standard chain axe, and howled a challenge as he spotted the one who led it all.

"ANGRON! COME FACE ME YOU COWARD. FIGHT AND DIE WELL, YOU TRAITOROUS SCUM!" These words rang out, and managed to as he had intended, to catch the Primarch's attention.

The massive figure of the World Eater's turned to face him, and roared in primordial rage. Anger he knew well, and braced for. Guarding himself with his good arm and the weapon he had retrieved. Prepared to die with honour like his Brothers, fighting to the bitter end against his Traitorous gene-father. His spark of defiance hoping to inspire billions of other sparks to end this great Heresy as he raised his weapon to lock with his Primarch's twin chain axes.

But it was not to be, as a strange, viscous aura began to envelop the battlefield. A purplish hue took over the dead, poisonous yellow skies, as a heavy storm began to pour from the heavens. The storm was raging; but it was not the acid rain they had experienced prior. It was a plastering of hot, thick blood. Angron didn't seem as affected by this, nor did his Traitor sons; but the loyalists were ducking for cover. As if the blood was harmful. As if it was burning deep through their toughened power armor and searing the skin from their bodies.

One last thing tore into reality, as the battered Captain was still braced for the final battle. Several rifts of horrible energies ripped into the very air, disgorging terrible creatures and monstrous, impossible machines. These very creatures and vehicles of war began assaulting his surviving brethren, and there was naught he could do to spare them as Angron broke his guard with ease. Casting him back, and before he could right himself he was seized by an unearthly grip that dragged him screaming into one of those rifts.

Everything turned into an unyielding, unending maw of endless possibilities and countless horrors. He saw truth, and endless lies. He witnessed many great events, and terrible ones. He saw the rise, and the decay of the Imperium he held so dear to his heart. All the sentiments he defended, all the hopes he desired; having been torn down and reduced to ruin and rubble by the fell treacheries of thousands of years of ignorance. He closed his eyes, trying to hide himself away from the deafening visions and sounds. It seemed to last an eternity, until, at last, it stopped.

The only reason it had stopped, was due to the fact that when he opened his eyes; he felt and tasted true air again. It was repugnantly sweet, almost idyllic. And he despised it. He took a small glance, his eyes hurting even behind his shielding helmet lenses. The colors of the landscape he was exposed to were so bright and annoying was near maddening. So many shades, almost like pastels, mixing harmoniously as they swayed in the wind. The grass and soil itself felt soft, and yielding. The trees were waving almost, as he glanced around. He sniffed again, his instincts telling him to try and acclimate to his environment as he grunted, forcing himself slowly to his feet.

He took stock of his injuries, and gave pause as he set his right shoulder back into place with a sickening snap. He barely managed a wince, and looked around for his weapon. Noticing it had landed and tore into the side of a massive tree. He went to the weapon, and wrenched it free after kicking the tree's trunk above it and snapping it. Felling the huge tree to the ground as he wielded his weapon and tested it in his healing arm.

It was then, that his thoughts in his damaged mind shifted back to how he had gotten here. He felt odd, because he had an inkling it was something terrible. But he couldn't quite bring it to his mind as he stood there, deep in his thoughts.
How have I been brought to this strange place? Where did I come from? Where are my Brothers?

Author's Note

Hello there fine reading audience. I hope you have enjoyed the second chapter in what is my first story here on FIM. If you did, please remember to leave a like and comment your thoughts about the story. Constructive Criticism is always appreciated as it helps me grow as a writer, and I'm always looking for helpful thoughts or tips on how to improve.

Again, hope y'all enjoyed the second of many chapters to come, and may the Emperor Protect!