Dark Apostle

'Those who don't want to be disturbed,' said Varnus sharply. 'And cut the chatter, Landers. I'm sick of your whine.' The enforcer muttered something under his breath, and Varnus resisted the urge to turn on the big man. Focus, he told himself, and stepped towards the closer of the two doors. He heard the sound of muffled voices, a shout. He swore.

Varnus slammed his heavy boot into the door, and it collapsed inwards, its hinges long corroded. A pair of men were raising a heavy metal hatch in the floor of the room. One, his eyes filled with fear, dropped down into the darkness of the bolt-hole. The other raised an autopistol, face twisted in hatred, and raking fire spat from the end of the stub-nosed weapon. Varnus's shotgun barked, even as the bullets from the pistol ripped across his chest, and the man's head exploded in a splatter of gore.

Varnus fell back from the impact of the projectiles on his carapace armour. 'Get the other one,' he wheezed.

'I can't fit down there,' remarked Landers, shrugging his shoulders. He nodded towards the smallest of the four enforcers, a grin on his face.

'One of you damn well go! Now!' roared Varnus, pulling himself to his feet. The slight enforcer swore, seeing the eyes of the whole team on him. He placed his shotgun on the floor of the room, drew and cocked his autopistol and dropped into the darkness of the bolt-hole. The sound of the man scrambling through a metal duct echoed loudly beneath them.

Still wheezing, Varnus opened up his comm-channel.

'They are running. Undisclosed bolt-holes. Orders?'

Varnus pulled the bullets from his chest-plate as he waited for a response. He could feel the heat from the bullets through the leather of his gloves.

'Captain?' he said with some impatience. 'Did you hear me? What are our orders?'

There was a muffled grant of pain from the bolt-hole, and then the sound of three gunshots. The enforcer reappeared a moment later. 'Bastard stuck me,' he said, his hand gripped around his left arm, blood seeping between his fingers.

'Hold position. Awaiting new intel,' came the captain's terse response, finally.

'Hold position? They will have cleared out by the time we wait for new intel!'

'Hold your position, lieutenant.' The comm-bead clicked closed in his helmet.

'Frek that,' said Varnus. Yanking the last of the autopistol bullets from his chest plate, he threw them to the ground. 'Right, let's move.'

'Lieutenant?' questioned one of the enforcers.

'The bastards are getting away. We close on the target position, now. If the Emperor wills it, we may yet salvage something from this mission. Move!'

'That's what the captain's orders are, are they?' asked Landers, disbelief clear on his face.

Varnus turned quickly, stepping in close to the bigger man, and slammed a clenched fist into his face. Landers fell back, a cry more of shock than pain escaping his lips.

'I am your lieutenant, damn you, you slimy arse licker, and you will do as I damn well say,' snarled Varnus. 'Now, all of you, let's move out.'

Leading the way, Varnus pushed on deeper into the stinking, crumbling complex. He heard the others falling in behind him, and heard Landers muttering to himself. He grinned. He had wanted to punch that man for months.

The enforcers moved on, covering each other as they ghosted through the corridors and down corroded metal stairways. Varnus heard running footsteps ahead, and raised a hand, crouching low. He turned off the light on his helmet, the other enforcers following suit, and they plunged into dim, semi-light. A figure ran lightly around a corner, and Varnus reared up, slamming the butt of his shotgun into the figure's head. There was a crunching sound, and the figure dropped. Clicking his light back on, he saw it was a woman, her hair clipped short. Her eyes were open and staring, and blood seeped from her head where Varnus had struck her. An autogun was clasped in her dead hands.

'We are close,' said Varnus.

Carefully descending another flight of metal stairs, the enforcer team could see a flickering of orange light coming from below. The stink of promethium filled their nostrils.

Reaching the landing below, the team was faced with a single, heavy door standing slightly ajar, its plasglass window smashed through. Flames could be seen on the other side.

'Quickly,' hissed Varnus, and the enforcer team entered the room. It was a large, square space, and one of the glow-globes in the ceiling exploded as flames touched it. Couches and chairs were ablaze, as was a low table covered in papers and documents. The walls were lined with bunks and desks, and a makeshift kitchen had been constructed in the eastern corner. The figure of a man, oblivious to the sudden appearance of the enforcers, was liberally upending the contents of a metal can across a table on the far side of the room.