My CO Stash #93 - Kar En Tuk by Pastah_Farian (DOOM Eternal/Warhammer 40K)

-The Laughing God Cegorach decided to yoink the Slayer into the 40K Universe~ Welp, cue the music! He's gonna be busy for a while.

Synopsis: With Earth finally safe, it seems that the DOOM Slayer finally has his time to rest. Unfortunately for him, messing with things like cosmic order and other such matters attracts the attention of certain powerful entities. One such entities is very interested in his abilities to change fate.

Rated: ???

Words: 43K

Posted on: https://forums.spacebattles.com/threads/kar-en-tuk-doom-eternal-warhammer-40k.834081/ (Pastah_Farian)

PS: If you're not able to copy/paste the link, you have everything in here to find it, by simply searching the author and the story title. It sucks that you can't copy links on mobile (´ー｀) -I'll be putting the chapter ones of all the fanfics mentioned, to give you guys a sample if you wan't more please do go to the website and support the author! (And maybe even convince them to start uploading chapters in here as well!)

Chapter 1-3 (exceptional)

With one last defiant roar, the Icon of Sin breathed its last.

The Slayer stood still as the Titan collapsed before him. The building he was on shook at the gargantuan's collapse, sending dust and debris flying. It would seem that would be the Titan's final resting position but its massive weight couldn't just support the body and the corpse fell backwards into the dark abyss below.

The Slayer strode forward towards the edge to watch his foe's fall but to his mild disappointment, dark clouds obstructed his vision. Oh well. He could still at least take satisfaction that the Icon of Sin had died at his hands.

"Well done, Slayer." came the applauding robotic voice of Samuel Hayden, former Chairman of the UAC, active Director of the ARC and now a voice living inside his suit's systems."The Icon of Sin is dead. Khan Maykr is dead and Urdak will soon fall to Hell. Even Hell itself is thrown into chaos thanks to you. And now Earth...Earth is now shielded from its enemies." Even with his existence reduced to being a passenger to world events, the robotic doctor still managed to sound insufferable and resolute as if his current circumstance was mild inconvenience that could be overcome.

Hayden continued, disregarding the growing irritation from the Doom Slayer. "Today will be remembered as the Last Day of Armageddon. Tomorrow, it will be a brave new world and Earth will look to you for guidance." At that, the Slayer turned from looking at the cloud-filled abyss below and began to walk away, his tasks completed.

For the time being.

"My contacts in the Allied Nations Council still live and the ARC still takes directives from me. We can still rebuild and recover what we have lost. I propose that we-" Hayden explained but the Slayer paid no heed to the scientist. He had no interest in playing bureaucrat neither did he want to run Hayden's errands again. Pockets of demonic stragglers still existed and they needed to be hunted down and cleansed. Furthermore, he had to prepare to deal with the consequences of Khan Maykr's death. The last thing Earth needed was a surprise invasion.

"...establish contact with the nearest ARC holdout. We can begin from there. I sha-"

"Ê̴̟̰x̵̖́͐̍c̷̞̺͒̅̽ë̵͖́ĺ̵̘̣͂l̴̛̙ē̸͕̥n̴̡̰̭̐t̴̗̽̿!̷̺̩̈́̓" a voice suddenly said aloud. It was dark. It was heavy. It was alien. Moving fast, the Slayer stood on guard, his eyes scanned the world around him for targets but he found nothing but ash, smoke and fire.

Spoiler: BGM: Cegorach's ThemeA gauntleted hand reached out to grasp for his weapons but to his alarm, he couldn't move a muscle. Alarmed cries came from Hayden but the scientist and the world began to distort violently, blurring reality to an indescribable point. The Slayer was helpless as he was raised in the air, his body slowly glowing with light.

"Y̷͚̅õ̵̟u̷͇͗'̸̙̾l̷̳̍l̴̙̏ ̶͙͗m̶͎͝a̵̲͑k̶̘͌e̴̘͑ ̴̦̍t̴̙͋è̴͚r̶͎̀r̶͖̕i̸̗͛f̷̀ͅi���̢̑c̴̰̓ ̷̢̊p̴͎̔ṳ̵͝ņ̸̕c̶̢͝ḫ̶͐l̵̳̀i̸̛͜n̴̝̍e̷͚̎,̶͙̍ ̴̱́S̶̲̽l̶̠̔ä̵͎y̵͕̐e̴̩͗r̴̫̽.̴̫͝ ̶̙͊M̸̙̑a̶̱̾k̷̮̈́e̶͔̚ ̶̱̀ǐ̵͍t̸͔͋ ̸͕͘ä̷̯́b̶͍̓s̷̺͌o̵̟͆l̴͍̈́u̷̙͑t̶̥̉ĕ̵͉l̴͍̏ŷ̴̼ ̴̱̚h̵̤͛i̵͕̓l̵̩̀a̴̬̾r̴͔͝i̷̧͌o̴͚̍ǘ̵̪s̷͖̿!̴̙͝"

The last thing he saw before darkness claimed his vision was the face of a smiling clown looking down at him with bright and amused eyes, its deranged laughter echoing in his ears.

+++

"This is Checkpoint Charlie! We are being overrun by heretic forces. Requesti-arghh!"

"Fire for effect! Fire for effect! My positions being taken!"

"This is my company's last stand! Lieutenant Firefly out!"

First Lieutenant Talia Hall cursed aloud as she heard the slow rumble of threads heading their way. Sure enough, a heretic Leman Russ tank revealed itself through the black smoke. Gone was its original and holy form. The Heretics had painted the tank red and had adorned it with their unholy sigils. It took all her willpower not to scream in rage as she spotted the rotting forms of Guardsmen nailed to the tank.

"Heretic armor! Everyone, take cover!" she yelled through her vox as she dropped through her knees.

There was a deafening roar as the Leman Russ outside unleashed its fury at the building Talia and her platoon took cover in. Following the tank's barrage, there was an explosion as men and material were sent flying. When the dust had settled, a hole had been blown in the building and several guardsmen lay dead or dying.

Recovering quickly, Talia pushed herself up and roared.

"Everyone back up! We must not surrender our position to the heretics! Defend this position with your lives!" Her platoon roared their affirmatives as they pulled themselves back up to unleash righteous fury upon the advancing heretic forces on the road below.

"THEY DEFY US, FAITHFUL!" came a voice heavily distorted by electronic speakers. "CLAIM THEIR HIDES FOR CHAOS!"

The bloodthirsty hordes outside their shelter roared in delight and their excitement manifested itself in the renewed intensity of their attacks. Despite this, Talia was unfazed as she took cover by the window overlooking the road.

"Where the frak are those anti-tank missiles?" she yelled into her vox.

"Coming right up, ma'm!" A guardsman answered. Talia levelled her lasgun and fired upon a heretic making himself conspicuous. She cursed once more as the Leman Russ turned its turret towards her window.

"Make it fast, guardsman! The damned tank is staring right at me!" the woman yelled. There was a grunt of affirmation followed by a rocket screaming from their shelter. The sharp-tipped rocket sailed through the air and made a punch straight through the tank's armor. Talia prayed to the Emperor for the rocket to deliver justice towards the fools that dared turn their backs on the one true God. Thankfully, the Emperor smiled upon her that day and the Russ detonated in a brilliant display of fire and light.

Despite the loss of their tank, it seemed to be of no consequence to the heretics who began to yell frenzied cries. Talia's eyes widened in recognition.

"They're preparing to charge our position! Brace yourselves, Cadians!" the woman yelled. The Cadian platoon that found itself presented with unfavoruable odds gave their own roars of defiance as they steeled themselves. It was at this junction that Talia analyzed their situation.

Their shelter was a three story administrative building, the entrance had a marble facade with two large pillars of pure marble. The second floor had a balcony which her platoon used to deploy their heavy bolter emplacement but they had long run out of ammunition for it. Her men were doing their best with what they had left and she was more than confident that they'd give the heretics one hell of a fight. However, that was the extent of it. They could smash the traitor's teeth in but they could not expect to live another day.

Oh well. It wasn't as if they were expected to do more anyway. Their job was to defend the rear and delay the enemy long enough for the main loyalist force to slowly retreat. They were already consigned a death sentence. Might as well make it such an end.

It was at this conclusion Talia readied her lasgun for what could be the final time.

"Men and women of the 212th! This could very well be our final stand. Right outside the walls, the heretics prepare to charge our positions. Our orders were clear as day; hold your ground to the very last. The purpose of our orders is to give the Inquisitor time to redirect our forces towards Hive City Borealis and prepare its defenses. So many people are counting on us and we will not fail them!" declared Talia, her eyes scanning the smoke and ruin filled streets before them. Through the smoke, corpses and debris, she could hear the thundering sound of boots and shrieks coming their way. She stole a glance at her own soldiers and found them in poor condition. Many of whom hadn't slept for days and were forced to deal with all manners of degradation and hardship.

However, despite their suffering, their eyes still burned as brightly as ever. They were Imperial Guard and Cadians to boot. They were all used to this sort of thing and it was all Talia needed as the confirmation of their resolve. But still, the Cadian lieutenant wanted to hear what they had in their hearts.

"212th! I give to you my final orders. They shall not pass! They shall die here and meet our bayonets, our fists, and our fury! Do you get me, you maggots?"

A unified chorus of ayes greeted her.

At that, Talia prepared herself for her last act in the material world. Oh by the Emperor she was ready to do this. Her heart pumped blood like it had never pumped before. Her fingers twitched as it rested on the trigger on her lasgun, just waiting for the Heretics to come in range. Her eyes, a bright purple hue that the braver men of her company called pretty, glowed with purpose and clarity.

She was going to die here and by the Emperor, she was going to go out on her terms.

Despite her willingness to give her life right where she stood, there was still a little voice in her mind that prayed for salvation; that still dared to dream of rescue and hope. It was this tiny voice in her mind that began to pray and ask for deliverance to He that Sat in Terra.

Little did she know that the He would answer her prayers.

As the first few heretics began to charge in through the smoke and just as the Cadians were about to unleash fury upon the charging hordes, the world began to change.

The smog-filled sky turned from its hellish red hue to a dull grey one as all color seemed to fizzle out. Many - both Loyalist and Traitor alike - paused in their battle, turning their gazes to the sky as a circle formed amongst the clouds. Suddenly the fabric of reality was torn as if someone had taken a blade and cut open the sky like a sheet of paper. From this rift in space a flash of yellow light thundered down upon the battlefield, crashing to the earth between the two factions with a force that sent all who stood too close flying.

As the dust settled and both sides scrambled to their feet, they beheld a man wearing a green-plated suit of armour with a visored helmet kneeling amidst embers of rock and dust. He had no visible weaponry save for what looked like a wrist-mounted chainsword of sorts and a shoulder-mounted weapon.

From her vantage point, Talia could see that despite the visor-obstructing the wearer's face, it did not hide his eyes. Never before in her entire life had she seen such eyes that glowed with intensity. She was no psyker but even she could detect the emotions flowing through those bright orbs. Confusion, alertness, rage...

The man scanned her and her squad first. Talia gulped as the man scanned them with such careful scrutiny that she swore that her soul was being judged. A few of her guardsmen bristled at him and the soldier right next to her shivered violently that he could have fired his lasgun at any second. This action did not got unnoticed by the armored man whose eyes narrowed at the Cadian.

Talia quickly made herself conspicuous, standing tall and proud as any Cadian should and laid a authoritative hand on the man's shoulder to calm him down. She knew she was risking herself for a unknown outcome but something in her told that the armored figure wasn't here to harm them. Her luck was solid for the Cadian quickly went back to his senses and lowered his rifle. The green-clad figure in turn softened his glare, locking eyes with her for a second until he then turned towards the Heretics behind him who slowly but surely returned to the present.

It was fortunate then that the Heretics possessed the diplomatic ability of a slime and the assembled traitors lobbed insults and threats at the green-clad figure. It was there Talia noticed the aura surrounding the man changed from cautious curiosity to one that she was all familiar to.

Rage.

One of the heretics strode forward, a man with ugly scars on his chest with even more ugly scars on his face. He raised his weapon, a boltpistol at the armored man. Talia momentarily thought that the heretic was going to shoot the green-armored interloper but it was not to be.

With speed never seen before, the heretic's head was quickly removed from his shoulders as the armored figure activated his wrist mounted chainsword.

When the body fell back, blood oozing from the stump, the two armies regained their senses, and chaos in the literal sense erupted around them.

+++

A/N: A bright day to all.

This fic is going to be a soft reboot of Rip and Tear mostly due to the new lore additions of DOOM Eternal and of me not really being satisfied with the way Rip and Tear is heading. Hopefully, this will be just as enjoyable for you guys.

Here's a link for those who haven't read it yet: https://forums.spacebattles.com/threads/rip-and-tear-doom-warhammer-40k.526708/

On other matters, I hope ya'll are a-okay from the Corona virus. Don't freak out, wash yourself and eat yer fruits and vegetables and ya'll be fine.

Chapter 2

"I know what you are thinking Slayer." came the cool tone of Hayden as he implored the Slayer to stifle his growing rage. "We cannot afford to antagonize anyone. I urge you to be diplomat-"

Any chance at diplomacy however was shattered when the clearly corrupted man in front of them had his head removed from his shoulders.

At this, Hayden let out a long-suffering sigh.

The Slayer could hardly care what the robotic scientist thought of him. There were the corrupted to deal with.

He rushed forward, faster than what a normal human mind could comprehend. Activating his chainsaw, he cut through a large swathe of corrupted, spilling bone, blood and sinew in a whirlwind of violence and gore. His victims never knew what befell them until it was too late, faces twisting in horror as their limbs and other extremities were detached from them. Those he could not get to with his chainsaw, the Slayer got to with his flames.

Searing flames spewed forth from his shoulder-mounted Equipment Launcher and burnt scores of corrupted. Screams of pain and terror exited their lips as the purifying flames of the Slayer consumed them. Their bones charred, their flesh peeled and the generous amount of oxygen they breathed became good kindling for the flames to grow even more brighter and violent.

The mass of corrupted appeared to regain their senses after seeing their comrades die painful deaths. Cries of wrath and promises of death bellowed from their throats as they charged him. Their attempt however was fruitless for they were mere pests compared to Him.

He who spent countless eons laying waste to Hell and its forces. He who had slain the mightiest champions the Dark Realm could throw at him. He who had slain Titans, Divine Beings and the Icon of Sin itself.

He was a Sovereign of the Night Sentinels, the Unchained Predator, the Hell Walker.

The DOOM Slayer.

And he was not happy.

If one could feel his anger, one would be roasted alive. What the Slayer had in him was complete and utter rage. Rage for the fact something had plucked him from his greatest triumph. Rage because demons were still causing untold suffering back on Earth. Rage that the Corrupted before him simply existed.

Thankfully, they appeared to be happily volunteering themselves as his stress relief.

"They are not our Corrupted." Hayden suddenly said aloud from within his suits systems. The Slayer had just twisted a man in twain when he heard the scientist speak.

Before he could do anything more, the scientist continued. "They do not emit Hell's taint. I can still sense something from them but it is unfamiliar." The Slayer said nothing as he continued to hack and slash at the corrupted. While he did not make a habit of learning the intrinsic nature of his foes, he had to admit that the scientist had a point.

A single glance at the forces arrayed against him had told him they were different from the enemy he was used to fighting. It was clear as day that they were corrupted by something but it wasn't Hell. Thanks to the power boost he received from the Seraphim and eons of experience fighting otherworldly entities, he had developed higher and more keener senses. Just like Hayden, the Slayer sensed something was very wrong in the men and women he was fighting.

"Look at the symbols they adorn themselves." chided Hayden. At this point, the Slayer had took hold of another cultist and had snapped the man's neck. The Slayer nodded and quickly scanned the man's body and found a marking that was tattooed on his back. Said marking was that of a eight-pointed star.

"I've never seen anything like this. Even in Hell and Urdak." The honesty and uncertainty in Hayden's voice almost caught the Slayer off guard. Among all things that he didn't expect to see from the UAC director, it was those two.

"Leave your pondering later. You are still surrounded, remember?" chided Hayden, as if he could sense the thoughts coming from his mind. The Slayer shrugged as he went back to his work and unleashed another torrent of violence at the enemy.

+++

"By the Emprah, look at him go!"

"Camillus! Get the pict machine! Record this frakking stuff!"

"Take that you traitorous bastards!"

The men and women of the 212th watched and cheered as their sudden savior tore through the heretic ranks like a hot knife through butter. The guardsmen walloped as the green Astartes - for what else could he be? - tear into the traitors' ranks with a ferocity and rage they had never seen before. They cheered as the Astartes took hold of two charging cultists and smashed them together like coconuts. They laughed as he tossed aside one and began to use the other as a makeshift club, the eight-pointed star on the cultist's back helping in that process. They roared in triumph as the Astartes delivered a punch so hard that it had shattered a heretic's chest, spreading bone and pulverized heart in a grisly display of gore and violence.

"Lieutenant Talia! What are your orders?" cried aloud a nearby guardsman. This had the effect of knocking the Cadian lieutenant back to her senses. Her cheeks reddened in embarrassment. Too engrossed was she in the brilliant display of the Emperor's fury that she even momentarily forgot how to breathe! Taking a deep breath, both to let oxygen back into her system and as a way to prove she had a plan incoming, the Cadian lieutenant grinned.

"Men! Take this as an example of the Emperor's love for us! In our greatest time of need, he hasn't abandoned us and sent us a champion to make this an even fight!"

Laughter erupted through the vox network, amusement and hope rising as they witnessed the Emperor's herald make absolute mincemeat of the heretic forces.

"My orders still stand! Defend this position and make those heretics rue the day they turned their backs on the Emperor! For Cadia and the Imperium!" she roared as she fired her lasrifle at the enemy.

"Huzzah!" roared the 212th in affirmative, unleashing their weapons at the disarrayed heretics.

Faith renewed and hope rekindled, the Cadian 212th poured righteous fury into their fusillade. Cadian marksmanship was one of the finest the Imperial Guard had ever seen. As their homeworld was literally right next to the Eye of Terror, each Cadian had been trained since birth to be soldiers and by the Emperor were they excellent soldiers.

They picked their targets and fired. The more skilled of the 212th provided covering fire for the Astartes. While he was indeed a warrior without peer, he was alone and his back needed to be watched sometimes.

Lt. Talia was one of those sharpshooters, diligently disposing of whatever heretic that came too close towards the Astartes. Watching the warrior work was just like watching a farmer thresh his wheat. The Astartes was brutal in his administration of Imperial justice but his brutality was also focused, with meaning. Not like the senseless hacking and slashing of Chaos cultists. He would simply dish out the proper punishment towards the traitors and then move on from the next.

With lasgun, saw, fists and that shoulder-mounted weapon of his, the Astarte killed score after score of cultists. The streets lined with the bodies of the broken, each cadaver having died in ways she never even thought of possible. The Emperor's Throne-sent Champion never faltered and never paused, letting the heretics know that there was no other end for them other than death.

This change she felt in the air. As an officer, she was able to develop a sense of sorts to read into the aura of a battle. The aura before the champion's arrival was one of quiet despair and forlorn hope. That all changed however when he arrived, dropped off by none other than the Emperor himself from the Golden Throne to turn the tide of the battle. Where there was once despair, it was now faith. When hope was forlorn, it returned in full force.

They were winning the battle. There was no denying it.

The victorious feeling she had was short-lived however when she saw them.

"Chaos Space Marines!" she yelled in alarm.

There were two of them. The first was armed with a chainsword while the other held a powerhammer. Oozing with malevolence and hate, they eyed the Astartes who was laying waste to their heretical brethren.

Talia would not waste anytime. She wasn't about to let the Emepror's champion be killed off by two power-armor wearing brutes!

"I need a rocket launcher ASAP! The Astarte is in danger!" she yelled into her vox. Cries of alarms and affirmatives were returned to her. As her men scrambled for the launchers, Talia watched as the traitor Space Marines attacked.

+++

The Doom Slayer said nothing as he relieved another man's head from his body. His deranged partner, a woman with hair dyed blue, screamed in agony as the man fell. She tried to rush the Slayer with her weapon, a hell-damned scissor-sword. Her reward for her display was a laser blast to the face.

By King Novik, how deranged were these people?

At the very least, there were still some with wits about them who used real and proper weapons. Such weapons he liberated from their previous owners and was now using to their full capacity.

The rifle he dubbed the lasgun was proving to become his favourite. A gun with perfect accuracy, and whose fire couldn't be evaded due to moving at the speed of light? Yes please.

With precision aim, the Slayer sent his targets into the afterlife. Their bodies now steaming with coin-sized holes in their chests. He didn't stay at a fixed position however. He was mobile, dispatching targets as he passed. He jumped high into the air and activated his equipment launcher which then lobbed grenades at the mass of corrupted. He felt no glee when he disposed of his enemies but even he had to admit the sight of limbs and legs being tossed around as a grenade exploded was a brilliant sight.

As he was about to land, he picked a unfortunate man to be his landing pad. The man, sensing his impending fate of being squished, unleashed everything that his weapon had at the Slayer. It was a fruitless labor however as the Slayer landed on the man, crushing him underneath his boots. Upon landing, the Slayer discarded the lasgun he had and swiftly retrieved the swift man's weapon.

It was another lasgun but that was fine for the Slayer. He wo-

The Slayer cursed as he felt a heavy blow strike him from the back, sending him flying towards the ground. Standing quickly on his feet, the Slayer turned to face the one that had striked him.

He was in armor, and blurred the line between man and demon. He stood head and shoulders above even the tallest corrupted, his thick and bulky armor festooned with skulls, etched in brass and adorned with spikes. He had two horns emerging from his helmet, a decaying skull on each one. In his hands was a hammer that oozed with dark power and promise.

"I am Diavola of the-"

The Slayer said nothing as he simply targeted the armored warrior with a grenade. The projectile sailed in the air and struck the Chaos Marine's face. Using this to his advantage, the Slayer rushed forward towards the Marine and fired his last grenade at the Marine who dropped his hammer down the concrete. The Slayer then holstered his Lasgun as he reached for the hammer. At this point, the Marine had recovered and elicited a enraged yell at the audacity of the Slayer. He too reached for his hammer but the Slayer was faster. Armed with the hammer, the Slayer delivered a deft blow towards the Chaos Marine's chestplate, cracking the ceramite plate.

The marine stumbled back, coughing blood and phlegm into his helmet. When he returned his attention back towards the Slayer, the last thing he saw before the dark claimed him was of the Slayer's eyes glowing with incandescent hatred and of his own hammer swinging down at his face.

"For Chaos Undivided!" he heard another voice scream, distorted by electronic speakers. The Slayer pulled back the hammer, and prepared himself for combat. It came in the form of another armored warrior who screamed battle-cries as he charged the Slayer, a revving chainsword in hand. The Slayer charged forward and met the challenger head on. In a clash of steel, the two met. Hammer against chainsword. Divine against Corrupted.

"I will claim your head for Chaos!" bellowed the Marine. The two struggled as they attempted to overpower one another. The Chaos Marine looked to have the upper hand. Millennia of war had sharpened him and his genetic augmentation and the blessings of the Dark Gods had strengthened him. Unfortunately, he was not the Doom Slayer.

The Slayer who had spent eons in ceaseless combat. The Slayer who had been granted power unimaginable by the Seraphim. The Slayer who was very, very angry at the Chaos Marine's existence.

He let slip his left hand and with the flick of finger, activated his chainsaw. He thrust it forward towards the Chaos Marine's armored belly, chipping away bits of ceramite. The Chaos Marine was no pushover however and delivered a stinging kick that sent the Slayer and his hammer flying. The Slayer landed on his feet, feeling the blow in his system. The Marine roared in triumph. Holding aloft his chainsword, the Chaos Marine moved to charge.

As the Slayer prepared himself for the armored warrior to reach striking distance, a rocket flew from somewhere and struck the Chaos Marine, disorientating him. Seeing his chance, the Slayer crossed the distance between himself and the warrior. He poured his rage and frustration into his strike, raising his hammer and smashing it straight towards the marine's face, bringing him to his knees. Remarkably, the Chaos Marine still had some life left in him. The Slayer rectified this problem by raising his hammer once more and with all his might, smashed straight into the armored warrior's chest, sending pieces of plate and flesh flying.

With this, the Slayer took the moment to see where the rocket had come from. He turned his back towards the administrative building and found the humans inside now firing down upon the corrupted. Despite the brilliant flashes of light coming from the building, he was able to focus on where the rocket had come from and found the trail belonging to a brown haired woman with purple eyes cheering him on.

The Slayer nodded at the woman who froze at the attention. He could see her face turning crimson but the Slayer paid no mind to it as he turned back towards the Corrupted.

There was still work to be finished. The only thing left for him to do was to Rip and Tear.

Until it was done.

+++

A/N: New update! I hope you guys enjoy!

On other matters, there were certain things in the original Rip and Tear that I didn't like and also some things that I missed. I hope to rectify those things here.

Chapter 3

A long suffering and weary sigh escaped from Talia's lips as she sat down on a piece of marble, her lasgun resting on her legs. A soft breeze flowed into the town, cooling down the lieutenant and those who deigned to enjoy the comforting wind. It was a brief respite however as the wind carried with it the stench of war and death.

She took in another breath and sighed.

"Tell me Sergeant....how many did we lose today?" Her tone was heavy and emotional. She hated asking this question but it was necessary for her to know.

A gruff man that had stood silently behind her sighed as he sat next to her.

"We lost fifty hands with a hundred more seriously wounded." said Veteran Sergeant Jonas Iscariot, a grim look about his face. He reached into his pack and brought out cigar and a Guard-issue lighter. He offered it towards Talia but the woman smiled slightly .

"Sorry Sergeant. I still and will not smoke" gently rebuked the woman. Sergeant Jonas grunted as he simply lit up the cig and brought it into his mouth.

The Veteran Sergeant, as his titled implied, had seen countless engagements in his lifetime. His record showed on the scars that were etched onto his face. One particular scar was on his right eye. The Sergeant claimed that he had received it while fighting Eldar at some point though he couldn't remember when. Talia was inclined to believe him, considering that the sergeant was no-nonsense character that didn't tolerate foolishness.

"We've won." stated the sergeant as he breathed out a puff of smoke. A sad smile formed on Talia's lips as she turned her attention towards the numerous guardsmen piling up the bodies of their dead for a funeral pyre.

"Aye. We have." muttered the lieutenant.

She would have been ecstatic at the thought of victory. But the 'victory' she experienced today left nothing but a sick and hollow taste in her mouth. So many of her own men...dead.

As if sensing her thoughts, Iscariot chimed in.

"Don't weep because your men have passed, Lieutenant. Be grateful instead that such men had lived." His tone was rough and blunt, but comforting. His purple eyes seemed dead but if one looked closely, they would see life burning intensely.

A puff of smoke exited his lips once more as he turned his attention towards the bodies being assembled. "They gave their lives properly, without any hesitation and fear. The loss of life is a tragedy but if those lives are lost for a foolish errand, then it's a greater tragedy." He turned his attention back towards Talia and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder pauldron, a look of warmth now present in his once grim visage.

"Don't think of yourself inadequate, lieutenant. You have led us admirably and strongly. Some of us have died but some of us have also lived as well. Imagine how many more would be lost if you hadn't taken over after Captain Jellico's death." He smiled as he gave her a light pat on the back.

"So take heart and be strong. As of now, your men need a strong leader. And that strong leader is you."

Talia listened patiently and found comfort in her sergeant's advice. She smiled, a genuine and happy one, at the sergeant. "T-Thank you, sergeant. I'll keep your words in mind." The man scoffed as he stood from his marble seat.

"Thank the men, not me. I just acted as their herald." was what Talia heard as the sergeant walked off to join in the pyre crews. It was also at that moment where her vox began to fizzle to life. Talia quickly brought up to her ear.

In came the authoritative and aristocratic voice of the overall Imperial commander of the planet. A voice she found infuriatingly grating.

"This is Inquisitor Adrian Tanner to any Imperial forces hearing this broadcast. Does anyone copy?"

"The 212th Cadian Regiment copies, Lord Inquisitor." said Talia, hiding her distaste for the man with a neutral tone. As she finished speaking, silence filtered through the vox line. For a moment, Talia thought that the lines of communication were cut off once more. It proved to be a fleeting moment's concern as the Inquisitor spoke once more.

"The 212th?" Even if he was a voice on the vox, Talia could feel the shock and surprise in the man's voice. "Your regiment was reported lost last week in the Defense of Hive City Acheron."

Talia frowned, her mind flashing her images of a city on fire, of the screams of civilians and of...the body of a young girl. She shook her head from her memories and and glanced at the smog-filled sky.

"We were never destroyed, my lord. We only lost communications. I believe we re-established communications via a Krieg regiment. It was a armored battalion I believe." Talia replied, honestly not being able to remember the name of the Krieger Tank battalion they encountered during their retreat. She had heard stories of the Kriegers disapproving of retreats and of them shooting those that dared retreat so but they were strangely cordial. Their commander had granted the 212th use of their communications equipment and even loaned some to them.

The last thing she saw was of them heading back into their vehicles as they charged headfirst into the frontlines. While the 212th were pulling back, they were marching on into battle.

The sounds of paper being rifled around a table and of flesh being burnt brought the lieutenant back to her senses. She turned to its source and found her men in the process of lighting the funeral pyres.

"Ah yes, the Krieger 69th Armored Battalion." Was it her or did the Inquisitor become even more sleazy as he spoke? "Well. Welcome back into the world of the living, Guardsman. Unfortunately, it might be a temporary return if you do not evacuate immediately."

This caught Talia's attention and she listened closely to what the Inquisitor said next.

"Other rearguard units have successfully pulled back or were reported to have been overrun by Chaos forces. You are the last ones left currently actively standing." informed the Inquisitor.

"My regiment was able to hold strong, my Lord." Talia informed the man, a little pride in her voice. "We were able to receive help from the Emperor himself!"

There was an audible crack at the vox line.

"Help? From the Emperor?" Tanner muttered incredulously. Talia nodded dutifully as she cast her gaze towards the Astartes who was assisting her men with the pyres.

"Yes my lord. He sent an Astartes that fell from the sky in a comet of light. He assisted us in the defense of our position and utterly smashed the heretics that dared attack us!" she finished a little too passionately. A couple of her men who were resting nearby gave her curious glances, eliciting a small blush from Talia who attempted to make herself inconspicuous from their gazes.

"I...I see." coughed Inquisitor Tanner. "Does he have any heraldry?"

Purple eyes ran along the Astarte's frame and exposed, muscly biceps.

"Does he have any heraldry, guardsman?" Tanner asked once more, a little more force in his voice. At that, Talia realized that she had stared far longer than what was appropriate. The woman glanced around and internally sighed in relief that no one had seen her staring.

"No my lord. He wears no sigil except for a symbol on his helmet. It is some form of script that I cannot read." reported the Cadian. Her being an officer had allowed her access to education not available to the common guardsmen but by the life of her, she couldn't figure out what the frak the script on the Astartes helmet meant. Perhaps it was a mark of the Emperor?

"Has he made any hostile moves against you or your regiment?" inquired the Inquisitor, calmer now in tone.

Talia shook her head. "He hasn't my lord. Ever since he arrived, he has done nothing but aid me and my regiment against the Chaos spawns. I swear to you, on my honor as a Cadian and as a officer, that this is the truth."

This she earnestly believed in. Only the Emperor could send something as powerful and vengeful as the Astartes. Only something sent by the Emperor could make her and her men feel like they could take on the Warp and win. There was no way Chaos or possibly some heretical xeno god could produce something as magnificent and powerful as the astartes.

That thought was the height of foolishness.

"I ask that you hand the vox to him. Now."

There was a certain edge in the Inquisitor's voice that told Talia that telling him about the Astartes was a bad idea.

+++

"This is no longer our world. Nor universe for the matter." echoed the voice of Samuel Hayden.

The DOOM Slayer said nothing as he gently laid down the body of a soldier onto a pile of his brethren.

"Whether you like it or not, your fate is now tied with the men you have assisted. They look onto you with hope and admiration. When they see you, they know no fear."

Sure enough, he passed by pair of men that stood at attention and saluted him, eyes shimmering with respect and hope. He afforded the men a nod as he passed. Small smiles formed at their lips as they watched him work. The Slayer said nothing as he bent over to pick another fallen soldier.

"Are you going to assist them further and see where that road takes you? Or are you going to strike out on your own and let destiny take its course?" the scientist intoned.

The DOOM Slayer had formed a habit to ignore the nascent scientist's ramblings when it wasn't important but the question Hayden asked him had left him seriously pondering on what to do.

In this reality, there was no Hell. No Dark Lord's day to ruin. No Urdak that plotted and manipulated nor was there any UAC that would bring damnation to all. From what little he could place, he was in the planet of a interstellar Human empire led by a God-Emperor figure that was currently fighting other humans that had been corrupted by some enigmatic and wholly malevolent space entities called the Chaos Gods.

If he had to base that from the souls he had consumed.

Irritation was roused in him as he recalled the stinging that he felt when he absorbed the fallen souls of the corrupted. He would catch glimpses of profane rituals and degenerate acts all done in the name of their gods. Furthermore, he could hear dark whispers forming in his mind. Said whispers becoming even stronger the more souls he consumed.

Promises of more martial power. The promise of arcane knowledge. Of immortality and of infinite pleasure. If he had his helmet off, he would have spat at the offers made my these so called gods. He was the Doom Slayer, imbued with god-like powers by the Seraphim and champion of Earth. What could these so-called gods offer him that he already had?

A shudder of irritation coursed through him. On the topic of gods, that hideous clown figure was also probably another divine being in this reality. He had to find a way to get at that harlequin freak for taking him and his weapons and his Fortress.

Until he found a way, he would have to assist these...Imperials as much as he could. They sure as hell weren't his humanity but humanity was still humanity no matter the universe and there had to be someone to fight back the malevolence of hell.

Or its local equivalent at least.

Despite the stories portraying him as a figure of uncontrollable rage and anger, he wasn't totally a rage-filled testosterone monster. He had calmed down significantly ever since he had awoken from Mars and even had the time to pick up on his old hobbies. He also even picked up on grease-monkey and egghead books to keep his mind sharp and to assist with VEGA.

On the topic of VEGA...

He had little time in taking the AI out of Urdak as he had hastened to Earth to defeat the Icon of SIn and so had left VEGA back in Urdak. The AI was going to be witness to a bloodfest between Urdak and Hell. As the contract between the two realms had been thrown out of the window, war was going to come and Hell would consume the world Hayden called 'Paradise'

Thus the Slayer made a promise to himself. As soon as he found a way back into his reality, he would find a way to rescue VEGA.

He had grown fond of the AI and found it to be a much more pleasant partner than Hayden. At the very least, the AI didn't emit self-righteousness, petulance, and overbearing confidence that spoke of how good they were.

"My lord?" coughed a feminine voice.

The Slayer had lowered the body he was carrying into a pyre when he heard the woman speak. Finishing first his job, he nodded towards two nearby guardsmen to begin lighting their power then turned towards the source of the voice.

An awed look was on the woman's face as He tuned to face her. He had seen the look countless of times already and this time, it wasn't any different. He did not care for their praise. All he wanted was to get demon guts and tear them out of their extremities.

He would not speak, finding no reason to. And so, the Slayer nodded at the woman, acknowledging her.

Talia held her breath as she sized-up the Astarte in front of her. She took note of his graceful speed despite his heavy bulk. She took note of the way his exposed biceps glistened in the sunlight and by the Emperor did she take note of the way his eyes bored into her as he looked.

She cleared her throat, hoping to drive away the awkward air that was now settling in between them.

"My lord." She swore to the Emperor that she didn't mean to emphasize on the 'my' part. "Firstly, I never got the chance to properly thank you for assisting us in the battle against the heretic forces. I would like to remedy that and with my most sincere gratitude, give you the 212th's thanks. If you hadn't come, my troops and I would have been sent directly to the Emperor."

The Slayer nodded, taking the woman's thanks in stride. He was rather surprised that he could understand the woman. He assumed that she'd be speaking some other space fantasy language.

"I'm translating for you." Hayden chimed in once more, souring the Slayer's pleasant mood. "The woman is speaking a mix of English, German, French, and Latin. This is a fascinating language combination I have to admit. Keep on letting woman talk. I'm going to be cataloging her words."

Talia shivered when she saw the Astarte's mood suddenly sour for a second. His helmet was rather transparent and she could see the hardening look on his eyes.

"My lord?" she suddenly squeaked. That brought the Astartes back to his senses and his gaze softened immediately as soon as he saw the look on her face.

Clearing her throat once more, Talia turned towards the administratum building that had once been their shelter from the heretic forces.

"Secondly, I would like to inform you that Inquisitor Tanner would like to speak with you. He is currently acting as the planet's overall military commander. It's unusual but High Command was utterly devastated when the heretics landed. He's the only one with any proper authority left on the planet." She found it distasteful that the Inquisitor had hijacked local PDF and Astra Militarum forces present in the planet but he was quick to wrestle control ever since High Command was lost to Chaos. He had been competent at keeping Loyalist forces together and in keeping Chaos largely away from breaching the last stronghold of Imperial power in the planet so his authority was accepted.

Talia found it distasteful but the man was good at this job. She wasn't petty enough to hate him for that.

Returning to reality, the Cadian lieutenant found the Astartes deep in thought, as if he was considering her words carefully. After a few moments deliberation, the Astartes nodded and bade her to lead him.

Talia smiled.

To Spacebattles we go~!