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Ooooh, I had always wondered how they would preform a mind wipe (having played/painted Grey Knights) so this was quite interesting.

Am I right in assuming this new group are mechanium based? having many augments thats how I would see them as.

I am not sure I want them categorized quite yet. They are heavily augmented humans of one kind or another, they work for the Inquisition. Whether or not they are specifically Mechanicum or some sub-sect is yet to be determined. I'm glad you liked the post.

Wow. Over 50k views. Thanks guys! Please tell me what you think. I know more then just knightley reads this stuff, at least I'm assuming so.

I'm at least a vocal reader

And damn you again, I got all excited to see a post from you, but it wasnt story!

Very soon Knightley.

Very soon.

Bastion, Morgue, Foundry, Manor, and Temple worked on Inushi for the first 47 minutes of flight. Inushi was given a simple dark red robe to wear. In the time it took for him to put it over his head, the five members around him had each grabbed other pieces of equipment. They used the time in zero gravity to their advantage as a tall power pack, a pair of servo arms, a servitor, a heavy bolter, and a body harness were all attached and worn by Inushi.

When the servitor that was now attached to his pack, was woken, the man named Temple flipped the dark red hood over Inushi’s face. The red cloth was a sort of plastic weave that made no noise as it moved but felt very cool to the touch.

Inushi’s right arm was inside the heavy bolter casing. He had very limited motion or use of the arm while it was attached to the weapon, he could merely point it and pull the internal trigger. His left arm was one of the only portions of his body without mechanical braces or attachments. He was already exploring what he had access to before Temple spoke.

“Hold still Garden, I am still adjusting your visual display,” he plainly stated. The fabric hanging over Inushi’s face began to glow before pixels began to appear on the mesh weave. The pixilation improved very rapidly before he found himself looking forward as if the fabric was not there at all. The visual display was astonishing. Only when he turned his head was he able to tell the fabric was still draped over his face. The movement slightly warped his sight as if he were looking through glass at an odd angle. He watched Foundry and Manor reclaim their seats while he examined the limitations of his display.

The whir and sounds of charging equipment dominated the interior of the valkyrie as the servitor ran through some processes while Temple adjusted settings on Inushi’s heavy bolter and power pack. The pack had its own pair of arms, one with a compact melta weapon, the other a simple maniple. The arms moved around and tested their own reach and movement while Temple continued to tinker with the settings. Bastion and Morgue finished up their part before floating back to their seats to strap themselves back in.

Inushi continued to study the display fabric and get used to the new visual effects. When the forty seventh minute arrived Temple pushed away. He gave Inushi a look up and down before reaching to the heavy bolter. He flipped out a small display panel, ammo counters, heat levels, belt feed health, and gyro systems were all displayed. Beneath the display, Temple pointed to a well hidden triangular button. He pressed it and a second panel opened. It was closer to Inushi’s face and had three buttons on it, a shield, an engine, and a broken tool.

“Your guise has a built in refractor shield. The first button will activate it. It will drastically drain the power in the suit while activated. You’ll have no more then thirty seconds of use before it will deactivate and the system will become inert. You may be strong enough to move without power but I would not advise draining it down to that point.”

Temple closed the panel and took his seat. He strapped himself back in to the harness.

“Entering atmosphere,” the pilot said over the internal vox built into the hood.

Inushi looked over his shoulder to what he believed to be his seat but when he noticed the bulk that was now attached to him he knew that wasn’t an option.

“Garden, you and Nelson are riding in the hook position,” Morgue said. The large dark skinned man was one of the few members that went through their transformation with minimal alterations, as if they knew he wouldn’t change enough so they didn’t bother to put forth the effort.

“You named the servitor Nelson?” Inushi asked while taking his first steps towards the end of the transport. Some part of the suit he now wore was anchoring him to the floor, either through a gravity pulse or a magnetic pull, it was slight, but very useful in this instance.

He didn’t hear any response to his question but as he neared the end of the transport a few steps later he turned to reach the hook release, he lowered his heavy bolter. He began to pivot in order to reach the release on the right wall with his left hand. Before his hand had finished crossing his body the small metal maniple arm of the servitor stretched out and elongated. It pressed the necessary button to release the hook system.

Inushi stopped his hand from moving further. The hooks lowered and the maniple arm attached them to the back pack. The small arm was slow and purposeful but it completed the process without any commands from him. Inushi held his position, slightly perplexed at his new found symbiotic relationship. The magnetic systems on his suit lessened as the hook mounts pulled him up.

The ship began to vibrate moments later. They were entering the atmosphere. Inushi stared at the door. The five members of the Clishmacleaver that sat behind him were running final checks on weapons and other pieces of equipment. The sounds were distant and harder to hear as the roar of reentry shook the ship. Inushi hung by the hooks, shaking slightly and dangling in the center of the hold, closest to the door.

Nothing had been mentioned about mission parameters or targets. He felt as if a lot was being kept from him, even the vaguest of mission goals still had prep work. Inushi closed his eyes and listened. He visualized the men and women of the unit as they stood before in the hanger. He saw their weapons and uniforms in his minds eye.

Standard issue galaxy pattern lasguns were carried by the majority of the unit. Three were adjusted for longer range, typical sniping pattern. Two of the unit carried needle pistols the rest carried Flash IV auto pistols. Morgue carried the only special weapon, a Clovis pattern plasmagun.

Med packs, vox units, and a pair of vox amplifiers, were the extent of extra equipment. Nothing out of the ordinary.

The ships rumbling lessened and changed pitch. They were speeding up and changing their trajectory. A slight bank made Inushi dangle to the left.

He fell back into his mental exercise. He went further; he had no clues from the weapons or equipment, maybe the uniforms. Gray slacks, standard coat, brown sash, black boots, gray cloth hat, and basic imperial eagle iconography. Two company insignias were the only other marking, the 9th with a book and the 12th with a gavel.

Inushi had no idea what planet they could be from, but judging by the basic attire and low company numbers he would guess a temperate climate agri-world, low enlistment figures would yield fewer companies over the years. Images of previous battles and the enlisted men he had seen scrolled through his mind. He felt more confident with his decision the longer he thought about it.

If only he knew what the disguises were for. Are they infiltrating the planet in which the uniforms match or simply as an unknown force? It certainly didn’t feel like they were approaching as an Inquisitorial force. He always imagined a lot more ceremony and over the top theatrics, nothing like he was witnessing now.

They were still speeding through the air but they were quickly dropping altitude. The view before him was an endless horizon of white buildings with verdant gardens speckling the cityscape. They were spread out with yards and parks, purple paved streets, and statues of all shapes and sizes. Mag-trams hung from suspended lines above the buildings speeding towards unknown destinations.

“Garden, we move in thirty. Stay close,” the crisp voice of Bastion stated through the plastic mesh covering his face. It gave off a faint light in the direction in which Bastion was sitting. “and remember, you’re our servitor, not a space marine. Act appropriately.” Bastion added.

That's fricken cool, Turning a Marine into a servitor as an act of subterfuge. Top notch.

I did have to read it a couple of times though to get the full meaning of all the extra gear, but thats more reading this at 7:30am

Definitely looking forward to more!

Thanks Knightley!

How mad are you right now that this isn't another story post?

#sodamnmadrightnow!

The ship slowed and hovered several meters off the ground. Garden exhaled and let his eyes widen. He entered his battle trance moments before the harness clicked and he fell. It took 2.7 seconds for him to reach the ground. In those 2.7 seconds he had ascertained the position of every person on the busy street corner, the speed and trajectory of the moving vehicles, and the entry ways to every building within sight. He braced for a hard landing that never arrived.

The suit that had been strapped onto him in zero gravity gave a minute propulsion boost which slowed his fall milliseconds before impact. Garden’s feet touched the ground as if he was wearing nothing, then the full weight of the suit pressed down on him as the boost ceased.

The full weight was similar to a dead suit of power armor. It slowed his reactions considerably, almost as if he was moving underwater. Garden stood up to his full height and inhaled. He aimed his heavy bolter at the nearest civilian on the street. She dropped her drink, satchel, and froze.

Garden heard the arrival of Bastion and the other four.

Manor stepped in front of Garden, glared at the woman before turning away. He surveyed the area with a blank face before looking to Garden. The woman grabbed her bag and spat a word that must be a local curse.

Manor flashed a serious of hand gestures that Garden didn’t understand. The five men broke into a jog. Garden fell in line behind them, thankful he had a veil over his face. The first few steps were much more difficult then he anticipated but as he felt his momentum build, the heavy suit seemed to compensate and it became easier to keep up with his unencumbered squad mates.

To his surprise, no one paid any attention to them. An occasional child or onlooker would point to Garden but they ignored the five well armed men jogging down the side walk. The activity level around them did seem to increase though as they ran. People were fleeing and quickly running past them.

They approached a busier intersection when a vehicle with yellow flashing lights sped past. It was an armored vehicle with slit windows and a large covered rear end. It reminded Garden of a Taurox. When the squad approached the corner, the uniforms they were wearing suddenly made sense.

The fourth building on the block was a five story building that sat just off the road behind a small courtyard. A delivery lane was on the left side of the building while the right side had only a small alley. In front of the building were a handful of similarly built vehicles with flashing lights. Two dozen armed men were standing and hiding behind the vehicles, weapons were drawn and all pointing at the building. They wore nearly identical uniforms to the Clishmacleaver around him.

Garden took in the scene. Windows had been shot out, the front door had been bashed in. Two bodies in civilian garb lay by the front door.

“IT’S about bloody time!” an officer shouted as he ran away from the side of one of the vehicles towards Garden and his unit.

“Where’s your Ox?” he asked as he stood close to the corner building out of sight from surrounded building.

Temple was the first to speak, “out of sight. What’s the situation?”

The officer looked shocked before looking angry, “did you not hear the reports?”

Temple stepped forward to get into the officers face, “Of course I did, but I want to hear it from you Arbite,” Temple paused as he looked at his uniform, “McClowski.” Temple spat. His accent was a perfect match to McClowski’s.

McClowski leaned back and took a short breathe before surveying the squad and then glancing at Garden.

“There are at least 30 of the gangers in there, they are well armed, but more importantly Korwin has been spotted amongst them. He single handedly took out the first breacher team. We’ll need more men before we can attempt another assault,” McClowski quickly explained.

“Let us handle it,” Temple stated while stepping past McClowski. Morgue, Bastion, and Foundry followed.

“What are the four of you going to do?” McClowski scoffed.

Temple looked back but ignored the question, “have your men ready to handle anything that comes out other then us.”

Garden moved to follow the others when it dawned on him. They were missing one of their members. Where was Manor?

Temple moved up to the corner of the third building and gave a quick peak before pointing to Garden. “Nelson you’re on point,” he said. “Hostility level 10. Aim to kill.”

Garden stepped past the others and flipped one of the panels on the heavy bolter. Without slowing he stepped around the corner and marched towards the front door. Morgue and Bastion were right behind him in his shadow. Temple and Foundry crowded right behind them.

Before he had even reached the courtyard he caught movement in the windows above the broken double door. Garden started firing his heavy bolter before he had even acquired the target. The heavy caliber weapon shattered mortar and broke masonry as he tracked it across the front of the building. The first bullet to hit its mark exploded the head of a human peaking inside. Garden heard las fire from his squad mates behind him as other men who tried to peak outside met a slightly less gruesome death. A grenade dropped out of a side window. In the time Garden saw it dropping from the window, he flipped out the second panel on the heavy bolter and activated his refractor shield.

The grenade hit the ground before him and the shrapnel exploded outward in every direction. The shield sent the pieces sailing away. Garden heard the power of his suit ramping up to maintain the shield. He quickly deactivated the shield as he got closer to the door.

Firing continued from the other Arbites hiding by the vehicles as Garden and the Clishmacleaver stepped into the building. Garden’s massive frame filled the door way forcing him to hunch through the entry way. Once inside he took several steps before pausing to listen. He heard the waning gun fight from outside. He heard the four men behind him spread out to swiftly move into side rooms.

Garden looked up the stairwell. He felt the presence of the men above him hiding in silence. He watched the first of them pop their head out. The man met the gaze of Garden before ducking back. All around him others reached over with guns blazing. Garden flipped the refractor shield on while pulling the trigger on the heavy bolter. He didn’t blink or make a sound as he moved from the target to target. He ignored the explosions erupting on his refractor shield or around his feet. He stood like a robed statue defying the hail of weapons fire.

When his targets were eliminated he stopped firing. He continued to look up. He flipped the shield off. Morgue and Temple came out on opposite sides of the first floor down the hall way from where he stood. Bastion and Foundry were right behind them. Temple pointed up as he stepped over the rubble that had fallen around Garden. Garden moved.

He kicked aside the heavy bolter shell casings that now littered the entry way. He stomped up the stairs and noticed how much power he had drained. He strained to move the heavy suit as the power returned to a normal level and his system recharged.

On each floor he stayed by the stairs while the others cleared the floor. Garden continued monitoring the floors above. When they finally reached the fifth floor he heard the rapid rapport of twin auto pistols. It was coming from behind the double doors before him.

The sounds of bodies hitting the floor followed along with the several short grunts of pain.

Morgue stepped in front of Garden and swung the doors open. Temple and Foundry moved quickly in with guns raised. Inside the dimly lit room was a well barricade area surrounded by bodies. Racks of weapons, ammo, syringes, inhalers, and all manor of paperwork lined the walls of the room that dominated the fifth floor of the building. A lone man sat on a chair with smoking pistols in his hands casually he took a breath and smacked his lips. It was the same man he had seen when they had first entered the building.

“Truly perfect timing mates,” he stated as he stood up from the chair.

Temple stepped forward and removed his right glove and rolled up his sleeve. The man put away his pistols and did the same.

The two men grasped forearms to forearms. They held the embrace for several moments while Garden eyed the man up and down. He was lightly tattooed with images of the Emperor, cherubs, and angelic warriors. He was well armed with a variety of pistols. He wore a dark red trench coat that was slick with blood splatter. His eyes were flickering while they held one another.

When the two men stepped away from one another the man gave a short nod before looking to Garden. He blinked several times before speaking.

“Hello Garden, I’m Mithril.”

Garden didn’t speak. He merely gave enough of a nod to move the veil.

“Shall we,” he began when a body moved not far away.

“Korwin, you traitor,” the wounded woman spat while he raised a revolver and pointed it at Mithril.

In the time Garden had adjusted his heavy bolter, Mithril had pulled out a pistol and fired at the revolver. It knocked the gun out of the wounded womans hand.

Mithril held the pistol out before him as he stepped over to the dying woman. She began to weep. “Why would you,” she whimpered as she lay her head down, unable to finish her sentence.

“Easily my love,” Mithril paused, “for the Emperor.”

He holstered his weapon and knelt before the woman. He moved some of her damp hair out of her face before shaking his head.

“No time to loose,” he added as quickly departed the room. The others followed. Garden took another moment to take in the full scene of the room. Mithril must have killed everyone in the room moments before they arrived.

But where did manor get to!

Very action packed writing, interesting to get a marines PoV inside a fight that isn't in his normal wargear still learning the capabilities of what hes in. Definitely need more of this!

Thanks mate!

Oh, there will be more of this. Don't you worry.

What did you think about me referring to him as Garden the whole time instead of using Inushi?

I won't lie, caught me off guard for the first few times then realised what you had done. adds to the squad cohesion

Quickly the Clishmacleaver moved back through the building. When they were on the second floor, Foundry tossed a grenade in a side room. After it went off he fired his lasgun several times into the ceiling.

Garden continued to follow them, amazed at the lack of communication they had between one another. He began to wonder if he was being left out of some sort of unseen chatter. He began to hear shouts from outside once more. When the group neared the first floor they moved towards the rear of the building instead of out the way they had come in. Temple and Morgue ran forward to a barred door. The two men raised their weapons and crept the last few feet to listen.

Foundry and Bastion moved up behind them while Mithril slowed down. He held out a hand to stop Garden. Garden looked down at the man before back to the men at the end of the hall. Bastion raised up his weapon while tapping Morgue on the shoulder.

Morgue, the largest of the men, moved up to the metal bar that had been jammed across the doors. He slid his lasgun over his back so he could freely use both of his hands. He grasped the bar and looked back over his shoulder. Temple knelt close to him, ready to push open one of the doors.

A simple grunt and Morgue lifted the heavy metal bar. Temple pushed through the door with Foundry and Bastion right behind them. They stepped outside with weapons up and firing the moment they exited the dark confines of the building.

Mithril turned and regarded Garden once again.

Firing continued for a few more seconds outside. Garden hesitated to move out but instead he turned to look down at Mithril. The tattooed ganger had a cocky smile and a wiry glare.

“You do not seem like the others,” Garden said through the veil.

“I was about to say the same about you,” Mithril retorted.

The sounds of a revved engine echoed through the open door.

Mithril motioned to step outside just as the doors swung back open. In the alley way was an Arbite Utility Vehicle idling loudly. The other men were already embarking in the back. Garden stepped outside and paused as he looked down the alley. Bodies were strewn about the shadowed area, several had been run over by the rumbling vehicle, and all of them were dead Arbites. The shots had all been clean and through their heads.

Garden used his one available hand to pull himself up into the larger cargo area of the gray wheeled truck. The vehicle sank under the weight of having a servitor covered space marine in the back compartment. Mithril leapt in behind him and shut the door.

He slapped the wall of the compartment and they started to move with a jolt.

Bastion, Morgue, Temple, and Foundry sat on one side of the vehicle. Garden was hunched over near the rear. It was clearly not built for anything with his bulk. Mithril squeezed past him as a door near the front of the compartment slid open.

Garden could see Manor at the wheel of the vehicle through the open door. Mithril peaked inside the front compartment and grabbed a hold of something. Seconds later Mithril pulled the body of a dead Arbite from the front compartment back into the cargo area. He began to strip off his own clothes while Bastion began to undress the corpse.

“Who brought the wipe-away?” Mithril asked to the room as the vehicle bounced around a rough corner. The speed of the vehicle quickly increased.

Morgue pulled out a folded clothe and a spray bottle. Both were handed to Temple. By this time Mithril had taken off his pants, trench coat, and collared shirt. He took several short breathes and gave Temple a nod. Temple flipped two switches on the spray bottle before blasting Mithril with it. Mithril stiffened up and stifled a scream through clenched teeth.

Garden watched as the spray burnt off the tattoos on Mithril’s neck, arms, leg, chin, and chest. The smell of scorched skin filled the room. His breathing slowed down as the process slowed down. Temple flipped another switch, shook the can, and sprayed again. This time it was in short bursts. When he was done he handed Mithril the cloth.

In slow swipes he wiped away burnt skin to reveal hairless, perfectly rejuvenated, tattoo free skin.

The vehicle took a hard bounce and another turn. Everyone, except Garden, grabbed onto something to prevent from being tossed about.

Once back on track Mithril put on the Arbite uniform, he put back on several of his pistols under the coat before grabbing a lasgun that was strapped to the wall of the cargo area right behind the driver’s area.

Mithril regarded himself before looking at the others. He adjusted his outfit with several minor changes before taking his seat. He gave a long sigh before looking over to Garden.

“Ready to go to the Capital,” Mithril asked with another wiry smile.

This is like the bourne identity, I have no idea whats happening but I know I love it.

What I've gathered they broke into this apartment complex thing, grabbed one of their own who had infiltrated, busted out the back and now they are going to the capital to take some names. bloody awesome!

“Tibbs. Load up Piper 8, we’re leaving tonight,” Mithril said.

Garden watched the exchange from the rear of the truck. He was hunched over and filling the rear of the vehicle. He had watched the exchange between the men before him. Mithril gave directions to Manor to reach some sort of train yard.

“NO, do not contact the others. I don’t have time to argue with you Tibbs. Put the military gear in the cargo hold and get it ready to move. When I get there I want that Tram ready to go,” Mithril paused. “Then load it by yourself. Get Eisley and Syphon to help you, I am sure they’re wandering around pretending to guard the place, I….” he paused again.

The pause went on for quite some time before Mithril quietly spoke while pointing to no one. “If Piper is not ready to go when I drive onto that yard in sixty seven minutes, I will be last thing you’ll see tonight,” Mithril said before pressing a button on his ear piece.

He sighed and leaned back, “it doesn’t matter how many times I infiltrate drug cartels or smuggling rings. It’s always the same thing on every planet.” He shook his head in disbelief. “You can’t find good help.”

Mithril continued to shake his head periodically as he thought to himself. Nearly ten minutes went by before Temple and Bastion looked up at the same time. They looked at Mithril before looking at one another.

“Mithril, are you not receiving transmissions from Alpha or Beta team?” Temple asked.

Mithril seemed to think to himself before responding, “Negative. I am only picking up yours.” He paused and looked to distance. I had received a bullet wound several years ago through the neck, it must have damaged one of the receivers.”

Morgue spoke up next, “They just uploaded Onyx. Nefas should be sending out a command update soon.”

Mithril gave a short nod, “It will be good to see Onyx and everyone again. It has been too long.”

The vehicle went silent as each thought about that statement. Garden took the opportunity to speak up, “when did you last see Onyx?”

The recently rescued man looked at the veiled astartes turning back to his thoughts, “I have been stationed here seven years. I haven’t seen Onyx in five. He spent his time switching masks and exploring the prominent political powers and defense command, while I explored the drug cartels that helped make a name for this planet.” Mithril waived a hand while shaking his head again.

“Everyone thinks this planet is a wonderful green garden world with a vast scholarly system that helps educate our next wave of,” he shook his head again and closed his mouth. “It’s all a façade. The books have been cooked, the stats are all lies. Millions come here to go to the Universities and Training programs, yet no one has ever actually left this world and gained any substantial rank in the military or in any other useful departmento, unless you count the vast network of smugglers that make more credits then the rest of the planet does selling its crops.”

Garden watched the words bounce of blank faces from the others. He got the impression their recent mind wipe got them all in the mood for efficient military roles, they seemed to have lost most of their personalities.

“Oh well, there are lots of problems here but at least we are about to fix one of them.” Mithril said while bringing his wiry smile back.

“Do you know who the traitor is?” Garden quickly added.

Mithril looked at Garden once again, his smiled continued. “No, not at all, it wasn’t anyone of power within the drug rings” he seemed to chuckle to himself.

Morgue spoke next, “Onyx does and we’re going to kill him.” He leaned forward to Mithril. “Nefas has sent his update. Green 1 through 9.”

Mithril raised his eye brows and smiled his largest smile yet, “that’ll do it!”

Ice, I have been silent and lurking for quite sometime. And I must say, you write a damn fine story Brother. I agree with Knightley, I love how you turned Inuishi into a Servitor and changed the name in the story for the flow, its great man! I cannot wait for the next installment!

Thanks bud. I am glad you are still reading my fluff.

I can not wait for the next installment either.

Piper 8 was a luxury magtram. It glided through the air making little noise despite traveling at very high speeds and being as large as a hotel. Garden looked out the rear balcony window at the moonlight horizon. No one had told him how fast they were traveling but judging by the speed in which land marks came and went it must have been several hundred miles per hour. They were hovering at about eighty feet off the ground. Every so often they passed through large rings that guided the tram from one place to another. After leaving the city, the traffic had greatly reduced leaving them to speed up and silently fly past fields of crops and gentle rolling hills.

Garden looked up into the sky looking for constellations that he recognized. He had a good idea where he was in comparison to the galactic core. The sky was empty of clouds so it was easy to find what he was looking for. Slowly a row of red lights blinked in unison for as far as he could see on the horizon. Earlier in the trip he had seen giant windmills stretched out in long lines, each one had a slowly blinking light on top. He took a final look up before turning in from the balcony caboose. A walk way was several stories above the garage he entered in. Their ox was still cooling off in the rear of the compartment by one of the eight double doors that flanked the compartment. Three chimeras and a riot modified Leman Russ sat in one row while the next row had a collection of off road vehicles, race cars, and motortrikes strapped down to the floor. It was an interesting mix of armored and pleasure rides. Below him by one of the doors sat a pile of bodies. Mithril had killed all of them the moment he had gotten out of their Ox. Garden had heard the last of them plead for his life before Mithril shot him through the eye.

The astartes passed through the expansive room before coming to the first pair of storage rooms. Earlier Morgue had gone through and found some food to make for everyone. The large dark skinned man was a surprisingly good cook, especially given the fact that he had never used any of these ingredients before.

Garden continued through the tram passing luxury bathrooms, a collection of hot tubs, several floors of bed rooms and a room with a massive double sided screen that hovered above a dance floor.

Next he passed a second kitchen and another collection of storage rooms. One of the rooms Mithril had open up earlier still sat open. It was full of drugs, weapons, and ammunition. Garden was surprised at how much fire power was stowed within the tram. Several minutes passed before Garden came across the first of his squad mates. Bastion, Morgue, and Foundry were asleep on over sized recliners. Temple was in the next room charging and adjusting the suit that Garden had on for most of the day.

At the thought of the servitor suit he stretched his genetically altered frame. It felt good to be out of that restrictive suit. He understood its uses but still preferred to be free of its confines. A Mantis Warrior preferred the silent quick ambush style of combat, not the blunt armored tactic the suit forced him to utilize.

A distant laugh echoed down the tram. Manor and Mithril were up front on the bridge. Garden continued his patrol like a gentle breeze, casually passing through without ever being noticed. Before he reached the open door to the bridge he listened to the conversation. Mithril was telling Manor stories about his time on this world. He described the make up of the drug cartels and how he infiltrated the system. He laughed as he talked about some of the activities he had gotten away with.

Manor grunted at some of Mithril’s jokes but more often then not kept silent as Mithril continued to entertain. Slowly Garden entered the bridge. Mithril was sitting at the captain’s chair with his feet up on a control panel. Manor was sitting near by, still armed and wearing his Arbite uniform.

“Ah Garden, welcome back to the bridge,” Mithril welcomed with open arms from his seated position.

Garden looked around at the room and the magnificent view the bridge had. The tram did not have any forward lights on at the time. Red lines highlighted the rings that they were flying through. He watched the view and studied the visual display. The rings themselves were not emitting any light. The windshield was highlighting the rings along with other land marks and nearby objects as they passed. Garden wandered around the room. The pair of men watched in silence. In front of the captains control panel was a tiered shelf with three rows of disembodied heads, each was wired into the tram itself. The heads were underneath a glass panel and were all forward facing. Garden could easily see how they were wired into the tram and he also noticed how they seemed to share some facial features. Mithril gave another chuckle before swinging his feet around the captain’s chair.

“This particular tram is owned by the most powerful drug cartel on the planet. They may arguable be the most powerful family in the system when it comes to illegal trafficking.” He waved his hands as he stopped his thought. “Any ways, every one of those heads is one of the family members, or was, I should say, a member of the family. If you disobey or angered the family,” he pointed to the heads in the display, “you’d end up here, still serving, but not voluntarily.”

Mithril stood by Garden and admired the heads on display. “It was surprisingly good motivation for the rest of the family.” He smiled to Garden before stepping past him to a tray of fruits and nuts. He grabbed a handful of purple oblong fruits. He tossed one into his mouth.

A blinking panel on one of the wall monitors grabbed his attention. He lightly trotted over to it. He laughed again before shutting the panel down.

“Speaking of the family, they just sent me a very nasty message,” he laughed as he went back to the captain’s chair.

Garden looked at him before looking back at Manor. “When will we arrive at the Capital?”

“In due time Garden. We have to get to the other side of the world first. Then we have to abandon ship before we get to close. Meet up with the others and finish our mission. Soon after that we should be off this planet.”

“Which planet are we on?” Garden asked.

“Citrone Primaris, one of the most efficient feeder worlds in the Imperium. Clean air, advanced bio-labs, countless universities, endless farm land, a lot of laborers,” Mithril looked at the small fruits in his hand, “and a xenos created traitor trying to corrupt the orbital defenses so everyone can be captured, tortured, and killed.”

He popped another fruit into his mouth and smiled. Purple juice stained his previously white teeth.

Excellent Installment! Finally a some more info on the mission! I like the contrast Mithril seems to have with the rest of the team

I want to know more about this xenos who is trying to cause a kerfuffle

The magtram line followed a rocky shoreline far into the southern hemisphere. The fertile ground on Citrone Primaris was so valuable that cities of any size were built only in places where the land wasn’t suitable for growing. The southern capital of the planet was tucked away on the southern pole surrounded by violent rock cliffs, space ports, and vast factory complexes. The tallest building was a stunning ivory tower that glimmered in the morning light. Other buildings huddled around it as if hoping its shimmering aura would warm up their metal bones.

The line was slowly joined by other lines. Soon the traffic corridor Piper 8 was on was congested with other trams, each of various size and purpose. Garden watched from the bridge as smaller trams linked up with the larger trams in order to conserve space within the line. Each one was giving off destination signifiers that the windshield of Piper 8 illuminated for everyone to see. Factory labels, shipping yards, or other city names popped up on top of the various floating ships.

Garden wondered what destination his ship was giving off when Morgue chimed in, his deep voice filling the bridge.

“There they are,” he tapped several buttons in the arm rest of the captain’s chair before standing up. “It is time to leave Garden.”

The dark skinned warrior was wearing his Arbite uniform but had changed some of the patches on his sleeves. There was now a sinister looking marsupial snarling on his left bicep. Garden followed behind him with Nelson once again on his back. The suit felt more comfortable then it did the day before. He wondered if Temple had made some adjustments to how the shoulder harness attached to his back and waist.

The two of them walked down Piper 8 to the garage section near the caboose. The others were gathered by an orange trike, each silently keeping to themselves. Mithril stood by a panel on the wall watching a small monitor.

Garden and Morgue took one of the lifts down to the garage floor. As they crossed the expansive room the garage door slowly opened. Frigid wind whipped through the room as flecks of snow tumbled and melted on the metal floor and walls. All of the men covered their heads with dark gray masks.

Outside of the tram was a much smaller, more agile tram. It was all gray with a red seven painted on the side. The badge of a sinister marsupial snarled on its short wings. Garden watched a turret on its top, shoot towards them. A blunt nosed magnet slammed onto Piper 8 on the panel right next to the open garage door. A long chain pulled taut as the other ship reeled itself next to the Piper. In seconds the other vessel was lined up with theirs and very close. A side door opened across from them as a wall panel lowered down to connect the two moving vehicles. It was thirty feet long with a wire guard rail on each side.

The members of the Clishmacleaver attached clips onto one of the wires and immediately began to walk across the bridge. Morgue tugged on a clip that Garden was unaware he had attached to him. Morgue slapped it onto the wire and motioned Garden to move out onto the bridge. The wind was numbingly cold. Without hesitating he began to walk across the bridge. Above him was another tram. Below him was icy water battering against a cliff edge. His squad mates were quickly moving down the bridge to get into the other vehicle.

In long powerful strides Garden crossed the bridge. He ducked down to fit through the open hatch of the smaller vessel. Morgue was right behind him. The bridge lifted and the chain recoiled. Garden felt the tram adjust its course as he grabbed onto a ceiling handle to avoid falling over. He didn’t seem to be getting any assistance from his servitor hunchback.

The room was bathed in red light and the warm glow of monitors. The room smelled of strong chemicals, grease, and incense. There were a dozen people in the room. All of them wore masks to keep their faces warm. Garden couldn’t tell who any of them were except for Morgue. He did notice there was a female in the group but he didn’t know which one of the Clishmacleaver she was.

The man closest to him pulled off his mask, it was Mithril. He leaned over to Garden, “last time I was in one of these I was being taken to a maximum security prison known as the Waterbench.” He looked up at Garden wide eyed, “thankfully we never got there.”

“Drug cartels don’t take kindly to having their department heads being captured,” he added absentmindedly before looking out into space.

“Temple, we could use your assistance with some prep work,” an unidentified man said.

Garden watched as a man on his other side walked across the room into a rear cargo area. He crossed paths with a woman Garden didn’t recognize. She had a stern look as if she owned the place. She crossed the room like a ship breaking ice.

She stopped only a few steps away from Mithril and Garden. With speed Garden hadn’t seen in a human before she punched Mithril in face. Mithril fell backwards and crashed against the wall of the tram. He groaned from the floor. The woman eyed him with disgust.

Her nostrils flared and she pointed at him with three fingers. She gave a look to Mithril that made Garden want to cycle up his heavy bolter. Her look alone was colder then the frigid wind that had battered them on the bridge.

“I know you are responsible Mithril,” she quivered. “I don’t know how you did it, but I know it was you that killed my family.”

Mithril rubbed his jaw he met her gaze with one of his own before sighing and looking away.

“You deviated from the plan Onyx,” he quietly added.

She started shaking her head and opened her mouth to speak.

“Didn’t you?” Mithril sternly interjected.

“No! I, I, I… I adjusted the plan and felt it would better fit my cover….” She stammered and looked at the floor.

Mithril slowly stood up. By this time all of the others were shoulder to shoulder around the pair and Garden. They watched in cold silence at the exchange.

Mithril reached out and placed a hand on Onyx’s shoulder. “We’re almost out. We have been here too long. Our covers have begun to corrupt who we are.”

She slowly looked up at him, her hateful look washed away by eyes of agreement.

“Who are we?” he asked her.

“No one.”

“Who will we be?”

“Any one.”

“What do we protect?”

“The light of the Emperor.”

“How do we protect it?”

“By cleaving the darkness.”

“What are we?”

“The Clishmacleaver.”

She responded and firmed her form. The words gave her strength and visibly gave her purpose. Garden watched with distant curiosity. The pair and the group was astounding to him and yet, he felt a hint of discomfort. They have killed nearly everyone they’ve dealt with so far. They wipe their own memories to protect the cause. Garden was beginning to wonder if his own life was in jeopardy.

Didn't expect Onyx to be a woman, good twist.

I also get the impression that Inushi might have his work cut out for him once they are done with him. I forsee some epic battles in the interim though

BAM!

I should probably write the next section to this.

Hold on, give me a day or two. Be right back.

Please Do ICE!

“Here they are,” a helmed man said to the quiet room. “Pulling it up on all screens,” he added a moment later.

The banks of monitors that surround the room flipped to a live feed. The front end of a red ship can be seen and two space marines are exiting the open hatch. They are both wearing burnt red armor with dark green trim. Oaths and honors dangle across their chests. Both are wearing long red cloaks, the iconography of a white and black turtle can be seen on their shoulder and knee pads. A woman’s voice excitedly speaks to the viewers.

“Live from cloud level eighty seven, the two astartes from the Marines Chrysemys Chapter have just landed and have exited their craft,” her voice is a mix of fear and excitement. “ they….” She pauses and takes a deep breath before collecting herself. The two marines are seen standing before a security detail and several dignitaries. The two marines tower over all of them. The woman begins to speak again, “the Astartes are meeting with their security escorts, Governor Sann’Jin, and Governor Hemko.”

The image never shows the speaking woman but she must be within thirty feet of the marines. No other people are on the platform except for other guards.

“This is a truly momentous occasion; never in our history has an astartes set foot on our land. To be here now, to see..” she continued to ramble on. Garden tuned her out and watched the marines. The one that seemed to be in the lead slowly removed his helmet. One of the dignitaries spoke words of welcome as Jaska gave him a slight head bow in response.

“Why isn’t Nefas taking the lead,” Garden ask to himself out loud.

“Oh that’s simple,” Mithril said from nearby.

Garden waited for him to continue before looking his direction. Mithril looked from the monitor back to Garden. “Nefas is busy working his mental games. Jaska is going over the cover story.” Mithril looked back to the monitors, “Jaska is quiet good at this, despite being a bit overly full of himself. Actually, that may be why he is good at this. Hmmm.” Mithril was soon lost in thought.

Several of the monitors switched to blue prints and traffic reports. “Primus and Secondus, drop off in three minutes.”

Garden ceased watching the monitors as the Clishmacleaver began to take positions and prime weapons. It was a silent system of double checks and rearranging. Garden quickly realized that every member of the Clishmacleaver was preparing to depart, including Mithril. Six tracked servitors rolled out from an open rear compartment each the size of a rapier platform. Large black unmarked crates were on the beds of each tracked unit.

Garden looked around for Mithril when Onyx walked up to him. Her eyes were like distant stars, shining sparkles amidst endless blackness. In the span of a breadth her entire demeanor changed, she gave him a smile and motioned for him to move to a forward compartment.

“Please, come with me. We need to modify your armor slightly before we deploy.” She led him to another room, the door slid shut behind them. She was the only member not dressed in the same uniform. She wore a long gown with a high neck piece; jewels adorned her neck and upper sleeves. In the room Temple stood waiting. He had a dataslate and a tray of tools nearby. He immediately stood behind Garden and began adjusting the servitor torso.

Onyx stared at Garden. After a few moments of silence she stepped closer to Garden. The top of her head barely reached the bottom of his chest. She placed a hand on his chest and with her other hand lifted the veil over his face while on the tips of her toes. She examined his face and Garden examined her.

This close to one another he could see traces of cybernetic enhancements under her skin. She looked perfect to a normal person but to the heightened senses of a space marine, it was obvious she was heavily modified. The skin was too perfect, her hair didn’t smell human, even her pheromones weren’t natural. As if in response to his gaze, he noticed she began to smell sweet and flowery.

His left eye brow raised the slightest in response. Her smile faded and she let down his veil to once again cover his face.

“What were you thinking about Garden?” She purred and turned around to a window slit.

“The mission,” Garden lied.

She grunted in disapproval.

“Finished,” Temple stated. He stepped around Garden and set down his slate.

“Good,” Onyx spun back towards the entrance. When the door slid open, it revealed a cargo hold that was empty. Bright light was pouring in from both sides of the ship through open doors. Frigid air was whistling through the compartment before their ship began to move. The doors slid shut on their own accord.

Onyx sat in front of the banks of monitors, she pulled up some messages on one of the screens. Temple sat next to her.

Garden went back to watching, paying close attention to the blue prints and floor plans of what he assumed was the main tower he had seen before. When Onyx noticed his intrigue the monitors switched back to the news feed.

The camera was following the two marines now. The woman was still talking, unseen from the camera’s view.

The closest monitor to Gardens face suddenly switched to the view of a vast manor perched on the side of a cliff. In the blink of an eye he had memorized the image. He studied it for any piece of strategic value. Exits, defensible positions, landing areas, anything he could use if he had to battle on or around it.

“That is our target Garden,” a woman’s voice added.

Garden looked past Onyx to Spire who had just entered the room. The woman wore a guard outfit just like the others. A standard issue autogun was on her back.

“While the others are handling the traitors, we are recovering proof. You will be guarding Onyx. She will be continuing with her cover in order to get us in and will only be lightly armed.” Spire rattled off.

“Do you understand?” She asked.

The question startled Garden. He was offended by the question, of course he understood. He was a space marine.

She raised an eye brow while waiting for a response.

“Of course,” Garden quickly added.

Spire walked past Garden into the rear compartment. He watched her pass through the large doorway. On the other side he saw another tracked servitor. The black case that sat on its tracks was open and glowing. Garden couldn’t decipher what it was before the door closed.

Ooooh, I liked this.

There is a lot of set up for things we don't know, Inushi being our eyes and ears and he's still in the dark (relatively) has me pondering if everything is going to go smoothly, or if ruffled feathers or an unknown force is going to interject.

Brilliant.

Thanks Knightley. That was exactly what I was trying to convey. Sorry for my delay in response but life happens. More on Inushi will arrive soon.

The flat roof of the manor held a collection of landing pads, vehicle entrances, and data arrays. The elevated spine of the building, sat perpendicular to the cliff face, and was dominated by a long garden. Tables, chairs, and relaxing fire pits filled the small spaces where plants did not. The walls and roof around the garden were clear, but no lights hung from within the hall. The warm glow from the fire pits cast long shadows between the knee high flower boxes and taller fruit trees.

The end of the hall furthest from the cliff face was open to the outdoors yet none of the cold or snow reached the half circle area. Snow floated into some sort field before turning to water and sliding down the side of the invisible barrier.

Onyx and Garden had passed through a set of clear doors before stepping out into a beautiful selection of night blooms and violet shrooms. Plush seats surrounded a wide fire pit. A bar was off to one side while a shelf of books was off to the other.

Garden stood motionless by the set of doors. He and Onyx were the only members of their group to enter the manor. Spire and the others stayed on their tram. Onyx was twenty five yards away relaxing on one of the plush chairs. A tall stately man sat across from her.

There were seventeen other men and women in the area, but they were either guards or servants. Garden already knew the order in which he would kill each one of them.

For several minutes the room had been mostly silent, only the movement of the servants or the pouring of drinks would pierce the low shuffle of flowers in the breeze. Onyx and the man, Kelvik of House Jevnibaum, were both staring out towards the metropolis that dominated their view.

The manor of House Jevnibaum was on a cliff over looking a sea of deep blue water and ever shifting ice. After their cliff was a shallow valley of barren rock before the towers of the south pole metropolis began their sky domination. In the center of it all was the ivory skyscraper Garden had seen earlier. That was the building that Nefas and Jaska were in, along with the rest of the Clishmacleaver.

“Madame please, tell me again why you have come to visit our humble manor while the rest of the governing body is meeting with our unexpected guests of honor?” Kelvik smoothly questioned. His voice was deep and his words precise. Garden did not like him.

Onyx took another sip of her tea, it smelled of flowers with a hint of sweetness. “I understand your entire family is there, yet you have stayed behind Kelvik. That seems very odd to me and slightly concerning. I wanted to confirm that everything within House Jevnibaum was still meeting the high ethical standards our people know them to be.” She responded with a smile and head tilt in his direction.

“It is family policy that one member always remain within the manor. I have seen space marines before so I felt that I,” he said before Onyx interrupted.

“Surely the leader of the house would have left some one of lower status to watch over your holdings?”

He gave her a slight glare before ignoring her question, “Speaking of lower status, why didn’t you send one of your own to visit me? If anyone in your house should be there within the tower, it certainly would be you. Given what happened to your family. Do you have something to hide from these marines or the people, my lady?” Kelvik said while staring back up at the tall tower, glowing in the dark afternoon sky.

She smiled and joined him in looking up at the city and collection of towers. Garden wondered how long this would go on. He revisited the small handful of code words she had given him before reviewing the order in which he would slay everyone in the area, should he need to.

“You know my lady, I have found the story of your house to be very intriguing. Over the decades your family has done very little. You have been quietly managing your small fields rarely ever speaking up, then only a handful of years ago you arrive on the scene, seemly taking over the family, and now your grasp on the political scene is quite impressive. How does a woman such as you do so without outside help?” Kelvik finished his question with a raised eye brow before he gulped down the rest of his steaming beverage.

Onyx smiled again before speaking, “outside help, that…… that is an interesting thought. How does a family go from mediocrity to a position of power? Many have asked that about House Jevnibaum. I being one of them. Your legal holdings have not changed but we all know your underground holdings have. Where exactly did you get the idea for some of these drugs you started selling so long ago?”

Kelvik laughed, “I do not know what you are talking about” he lied.

“The chemicals and combinations are very bizarre, some of the ingredients weren’t even found on this planet until your family started making them, yet the drugs were effective and masterfully created, as if you had been making them for ever and just now wanted to share with the world.” She paused. “Did you know that your drugs share a lot of qualities with some combat drugs used by a xenos race?”

The tall man had narrowed his eyes at her but showed no other emotions. His lips moved and he hesitated before slowly standing up. He looked down at her from across the fire pit.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he lied again. He quickly walked over to the bar, ignoring the servants with premade drinks.

“We both know that is not the case, but I am much more interested in your real plan Kelvik.” She took another drink and sat back in her chair. She looked completely relaxed as she spoke again, “when does the raid begin?”

Kelvik froze up before grinning and relaxing, Onyx wasn’t watching at the time. A servant was next to him holding a tray of empty cups and drink accoutrements. He poured two cups of steaming hot tea. He added the appropriate amount of sugar. He carried over the two warm dishes. He handed one to Onyx and knelt beside her. He was only inches away.

“I have no idea what you are speaking about Madame, “he said as honestly as he could, “but if something like that were to occur, there wouldn’t be anything any one could do about it.” He grinned and took a swig of his drink before standing up and circling back around the fire pit.

She stood up after him and chuckled, “Kelvik you may be right.” She set down her cup and saucer on the small stand next to her chair. “But let me tell you what I would do to try and prevent such a disaster. First, I would move the control of the orbital defenses to another station. Next, I would bring in an extra fleet of war ships to protect our defenses. Lastly, I would kill ever single one of your traitorous family and I’d send this filthy manor into the frozen waters below this cliff.” She sneered while looking around at the garden and the people within it.

Garden cracked a smile beneath his veil.

Kelvik snorted.

“I don’t see how anyone could subtly move control of the orbital defenses and why would you ruin such a lovely manor that we have had for so long and my family…… my family is very large and spread all over the world. It would be terribly futile trying to kill them all.”

She looked back to him and raised a finger. “Typically you are right. Your family is all over the world working on your schemes and deals. Currently however, they are ALL right there.” She pointed to the ivory tower and watched his gaze move to the building. “except you of course.” She pivoted back away from the view and paused to look right at Garden.

“Tell me Kelvik, do you know how many people live on this world?” She asked while stepping over to a flower box. Hundreds of blooms filled it of all shades of blues. She found the largest one, grabbed it by its base and roughly yanked it out. She tossed it to him as dirt fell from its tattered roots. He caught it with his free hand without taking his eyes off of her.

“Not nearly as many as the roughly two hundred and forty seven thousand that are in that tower right now,” she added while slapping her hands together. She took a deep breathe as he stared at her, his blank look barely hiding his busy mind.

“You would never……” he began when the first explosions went off.

Kelvik watched in horror and amazement as the largest building on the planet burst into vertical flames of pure blackness. The speed in which the building was scorched was mind bending. Garden had never seen any weapon like it. The flames moved straight up in a controlled ordered fashion. They did not leap towards other buildings; they did not move horizontally, they simply went up consuming all matter in their path. The flames shot out into the atmosphere as nearby buildings wavered against the force. When the blackness dissipated, the typical orange and red replaced it. The structure fire was complete and total, not a single yard of the building was left unscorched.

“have you noticed yet how the rest of the garden still looks marvelous?” Onyx said with open arms at the still perfect blue flowers arranged before her.

“You crazy woman! What have you done!?!” Kelvik quaked.

She raised another finger to make him pause, “that reminds me; let me introduce you to my Garden.”

A fraction of a second later heavy bolter rounds tore through the room, each one expertly impacting a guard or servant. None had moved before meeting their death, only Kelvik and Onyx remained alive.

Oh that tension! I felt it building through each paragraph, a plan come together and a plan ripped apart. top work Ice, top work.