Well, guys, this is a little crossover piece of Bioshock and Warhammer 40,000. Enjoy, and please post a review of what you think, I really enjoy the feedback! Also, same deal as always, if you guys review me, you can contact me at my forum and maybe I'll stick an OC of yours into the story for a cameo.
Thought of the Day: "Be vigilant in your duty, lest idleness spawn disaster."
Imperial Hive-World Dulemid IV
Gaultis plains, meridian continent;
Sector 28-D of Imperial Segmentum Command, front lines;
Northern trench lines, first layer;
2 hours after sunset, local cold season;
Ten minutes ago.
The auspex, the life-finding radar device which was found throughout the Imperium, lit up. An armored hand snatched it up from its snow-covered nest. The two others that the squad bore in its possession also reacted to the new life signs a heartbeat later. "Stay vigilant, brothers. The heretic draws near." Brother Sarch hissed to his brethren, who all were instantly at the parapet, followed closely by the slower Imperial Guardsmen. There was the familiar snap-click of autoguns feeding their chemical-propelled projectiles into their firing mechanisms, the whine of lasguns charging and the much heavier sounds of bolt guns loading. Several of the more pious members of this trench-line began to murmur prayers, litanies of accuracy and the like.
"Range?" The single largest of the occupants grumbled, his helmet and vox caster mangling his vocalizations to give an eternally ominous voice to the living legend inside the armor.
"Five hundred meters and closing, Brother." Sarch answered back over the noise of the snipers already starting to whither down the assault, noting with slight amusement the start of surprise as the Guardsmen around the Terminator realized his presence. Though three tons of bronze colored metal moving with such swiftness was possible. However, the sheer subtlety of his arrival was disconcerting. Virgil took up position, his double barreled Storm Bolter already loaded and ready. Set into the depths of his bear-like helmet, his eyes scanned the field.
He had merited his own little section of trenchworks, a dugout more suitable for a tank than a humanoid, but nonetheless, Brother Virgil of the Angels of Vigilance actually qualified for that description. So were the other four of his squad, all Honored Terminators, all capable of ripping a battle tank with their armored power fists, all legends in their own rights.
There was a grunt as the tense few seconds before the enemy reached effective range. Three hundred meters was the standard effective distance for their weapons.
"Three fifty... forty... wait for it... ten... five, two mark! OPEN FIRE!"
Fingers squeezed triggers, depressed firing studs and cycled rounds. Bolters barked first, chewing into the front line of heretics followed closely behind by the fast-firing lasguns, and finally by the autoguns and cannon.
The front line of cultists crumpled, a few literally disappearing as tightly focused beams of energy pulled apart their constituent atomic structure to nothing.
A plasma cannon spat a small sun into an ore truck turned personnel transport. The front cab was vaporized, slagging the primitive combustion engine and melting the drive shafts. With the front plowing into the ground, the rear end didn't have anything better to do than to flip up and throw its occupants forward like a feudal-world catapult.
A heavy bolt round entered through the flak-armor of a Guardsman beside Virgil, bursting the man like an over-ripe ocelo fruit found local to this planet, spraying his companions with blood. Turning once to confirm that he could be of no help, Virgil returned to firing, shouting into his internal vox-caster that the enemy were now densely packed and ripe for... there! The sound that pierced his ears, the scream of pure fury!
Finally, the truly heavy guns of the Imperium defenders began to reap their share of the crop. Heavy shells of many and exotic flavors began to drop down among the enemy. Of course, the standard high-explosive shells were shredding foes, but also there were the Hellion, which sprayed thick promethia-gel all over a fifty meter radius before igniting. Void shells landed into the soft earth of the battlefield, only to disappear – and take a ten meter radius ball of matter with them. Mercy upon those who were half-caught in the embrace of nothingness.
The second echelon recoiled as the Imperial fire began to scythe through their lines, and there was a brief calm as they built up the momentum to follow the first charge. Guardsmen and Marine alike used that respite to reload on weapons.
Warp storm Duplexio began twelve mili-seconds later.
It was a completely freak occurrence for a Warp Storm to begin on the surface of a planet, but nonetheless the easiest explanation was that some crazed cultist had projected some sort of spell to catalyze a storm which consumed the entire planet, and soon enough the local system within a few scant breaths for those who could take them.
For the lucky ones, it was a quick event. Billions of lives, snuffed out with but a whisper. Two hundred regiments of Imperial Guard, the crews of seventy eight Navy warships and transports, three billion Imperial citizens, and seven hundred and fifty two Space Marines perished in one of the most sudden warp storms ever encountered in Imperial records.
For the lucky ones, they died.
Brother Virgil was not one of those lucky ones.
He did not know how long he was in that... void. The eternal, all consuming darkness and silence. The displays set into the insides of his helmet were all frozen. He tried to move. Nothing. No sensation, no... anything.
Virgil did not know how long he was in that darkness for. He only knew that he was struggling against his armour, trying to move armo~
The tug of gravity suddenly pulled on him plunged him down, down, down to the surface below. He was falling through a storm. For a moment, his breath was taken away. The... purity of it, the tranquility of the churned up sea and the lighting and... it was amazing, how this rain was not setting off the acid alarms in his suit. He had never encountered any other kind of rain before.
During his rapidly accelerating descent, Virgil faintly registered a sleek, steel tube, with several protrusions coming out of it; namely two large, flat wings and a pair of noisy combustion engines with propellers attached and a small stabilizing fin on one end, before he crashed into the right-hand wing. It was just a glancing hit, but just enough to shred the flimsy aluminum skin. That fatal impact for the primitive aircraft was nothing more than a sharp jolt for Virgil, who was busy reassuming control of his armor's Machine Spirit.
Brother Virgil kept on falling.
He hit the water like a solid surface, and felt his armor lock down into shock mode as it plunged into the icy depths of the stormy Atlantic sea. The Terminator Marine struggled uselessly to pull himself to the surface, knowing that there was little he could do but submit to the pressures of the depths. If he was lucky, this place would be no more deeper than a few kilometers, in which case he would simply march to the surface, and find his way back to his Chapter.
Two kilometers down, he felt himself hit something. It was a small thud, not jarring but alarming for him; he hadn't expected anything to hit him yet. And still, he kept on falling in this liquid environ.
Don't doubt yourself, Virgil. It is just the matter of getting your feet and your bearings. Just like the underwater battles in Hydromar VII.
The self talk helped a bit, as he recalled the crushing depths. Knocking an Ork-made Killa Kan and following it down, seeing it and the Ork inside slowly crushed by the depths as he waited for his brethren to haul him back up.
He finally landed in a clump of underwater plant-life, and quickly worked his way out of the tangling mess. Now with his feet firmly on the soil, he checked himself. Nothing in the way of projectile weapons, he had lost his Storm Bolter somewhere between the trench and the bottom of this sea. That gone, he was left with only his Power Fist.
Well, time to go, then. He looked around, and began to march.
Two steps later, he was falling again.
It was a much slower, slightly more controlled descent this time, mainly because he reached behind him and was clawing at the steep slope to slow himself down. Terminator Virgil stumbled slightly down the valley, and noticed his visual sensors were offline. He rebooted them, and sucked in a breath.
Before him was a city, entirely underwater.
He passed by a large statue of a powerfully built man bearing a sphere upon his back. Another showed one flying, without aid. More still showed lithe dancers spinning around a similar spherical object.
Lights glowed and sparkled as they proudly bore their messages. It was... vaguely familiar to him. The unknown lettering to him was oddly familiar... vaguely looked ancient High Gothic, or a derivative of such. Such whimsical use of the sacred language was... confusing. Was this an underwater temple for some defunct deity?
He looked around, and saw only one door, which was situated at the base of a large tower-structure. Unsticking himself from the silt, he marched through the pressure to arrive at the bulkhead. Drawing back his fist, he vaguely felt something clang as he was about to punch through the metal doors. The heavy panel slid back, revealing a small chamber. Wary, he stepped inside. There was a glowing white panel in front of him, which had more of the text written on it. It suddenly rotated revealing a second set of runes. The room began to drain.
A third set of runes appeared after the last of the water disappeared down some drains, and the door hissed opened. Unlike the grandeur of its outer shell, the insides of these buildings were darker, less welcoming and far more... familiar. Virgil almost grinned. Just like the inside of a Space Hulk. He stepped out into the atrium, noting the expensive embellishments on even the simplest of furniture. Gold-leafed chairs, finely woven carpets... they were all crushed underfoot as he picked his way through.
The scream rocked his senses as he whipped around, to see a mangled, humanoid... thing standing there in front of him. His right arm was instantly up and pointed at it, his finger depressing the trigger of... the Storm Bolter that wasn't there. Cursing silently, he watched as the humanoid... it looked vaguely human, or a twisted parody of one, jumped back and hissed at him. It wasn't speaking anything that he could understand, gibbering on about something and laughing anxiously. The white mask on its face made it all the more worrying to watch. The thing was obsessing over something as it tottered unsteadily on its feet, walking away.
Rather stunned at the odd encounter, Virgil breathed a prayer of guidance, wishing for some kind of purpose, some kind of direction.
He was wandering around again, looking around what had to be a grand interior, all wrapped in the solid safety of the ocean above. Its grand designs, however, had to have been ruined at some point; there were wreckage everywhere, and more than a few times, he stepped into a pool of water. Dead bodies also littered around, and on closer inspection it seemed like they had been brutally ripped apart, both by blades and by solid slug weapons. Autoguns? The Terminator moved on.
These were mutants, whether they died or not it wasn't of concern to him, only that they were dead. He had managed to scrounge out a heavy tool, it looked like something the Adeptus Mechanicus would call a 'wrench' or some sort. It was solid and heavy, and combined with the musculature of a Terminator grade Space Marine, it made a great door-crusher. He didn't want to waste his Power Fist on such things, preferring to have it drawn back and ready to sunder whatever could be waiting on the other side of the door in front of them.
It was a full hour or two before he heard the next scream. It was higher pitched now, less mature. The Terminator pulled around to go down that way, his massive frame slowly building up to a full charge.
In a brightly lit room, there was another mangled humanoid, who was screaming something at a girl. A young girl, with a small device with a red container attached to the top side. He assumed it was some kind of syringe, seeing how sharp the tip was, and the liquid sloshing around inside the red container.
All this was taken in as he was sailing through the air, flimsy support struts and catwalks snapping as he barreled through them. He landed with a heavy crash in the middle of the room. Wooden floorboards splintered, woven fabric flooring tore, a chair that he had landed beside was hurled in front of him as he smashed it out of the way.
The man who had just struck her looked on in horror at the sudden appearance of the bronze-armored Space Marine, and weakly fired his slug thrower. Little lead bullets splashed across his armor, deforming and ricocheting off. Threat identified, Virgil charged forward, his right arm thrusting into the man's abdomen, throwing him back and into a wall, where he cracked the weak wooden construction. He fell down, only to be met by the deactivated power fist, which crushed the man's ribcage. Pulling him aside, Virgil smashed the man into a wall, some unknown instinct telling him that this mutant freak deserved this. The torso and head of the deceased mutant crashed through glass after the third time Terminator Virgil pounded him against the glass.
From the corner of his eye, he saw another man, who was still human-looking. He had bandages from small wounds, but nothing else to worry him. Virgil simply ignored the man as the girl got back up. She would scream, he knew. Most humans acted in fear, but...
"Mr Bubbles?" She babbled on in some unknown language. Virgil wondered what she was saying.
Looking down at her, Virgil was surprised that the girl was already at his feet, looking up at him with strange, yellow eyes. And in those eyes, he saw no fear, not even apprehension. Just... relief. Those eyes seemed to relax now to a cool green as she reached up to hold his bloodied hand. She tugged on it, bidding him to follow her.
"Lets go, Mr. Bubbles, lets find some more angels!"
Whew, that's the end of this chapter. I'll have to figure out the language gap soon, but I'm thinking a translator plasmid might do the trick. Just finding out some way of sticking Virgil with it is the problem.
And yes, I did just explain why the plane crashes in the beginning of Bioshock.
Oh, and the more reviews I get, the faster I'll put out a new chapter of this story, so review me, readers! ^__^