Warhammer 1. Evolution 1: The Road Home

Lone Warrior  
  
"In an hour of Darkness a blind man is the best guide. In an age of Insanity look to the madman to show the way."  
  
Evolution I: The Road Home.  
  
The frigid cold of the suspension fluid shocked the skin with a fury of bitter sensations that jarred a foggy mind to sudden clarity. Tired eyes opened and looked through the blur of the green liquid for the first time in quite a while. Slowly, the right arm lifted and pressed a wrinkled hand to the glass of the containment tube. Beyond the translucent glow of the watery cocoon white lights danced about in an almost rhythmic ballet. The lights grew brighter and larger as muted voices could be heard through the container.  
  
Presently, a metallic clank rattled the wall behind the weary body. The liquid level dropped. Slowly, the captive pulled the breath mask from his face and took a fresh breath on his own power. The monitoring wires and breather hung like the carcass of a dead spider as the sound of the drain could be heard. Now standing in an empty tube, weary eyes once again peered out into the blur before them.  
  
Three men, all dressed red armor and fatigues, grimly welcomed him back to the living with disinterested glances. A sharp hiss forced the front of the tube to the left and the occupant fell lifelessly to the tile before the soldiers. The massive form was coated in a durable, black suit that had several interface nodules on it.  
  
"Sergeant, none of the other captives survived the shut down when the building lost power." The voice grew louder as the speaker drew near. "This is the only one."  
  
A cold metal hand gripped the chin of the fallen survivor. Slowly, it pulled the face from the floor and brought the eyes up to look at the room in which they found themselves. It was a cold, dark room. In the light of the soldiers' flood lamps, degrading walls and aging consoles told of the age of the equipment contained in this laboratory. Was laboratory the right word? Perhaps it was more of a storage room than anything else.  
  
"I said, 'What is your name, chapter and division number?'" An angry voice focused his attention back to the men before him. The grizzly face of an aging soldier looked him square in the eye as the sergeant knelt before the prone man. "Name, chapter, division."  
  
"I. I can't remember. I am a Marine. I serve the Emperor." The voice was weak and croaked as he swallowed the rest of the stasis fluid. "I should remember, but. Who am I?"  
  
The sergeant let go of his chin and let his head fall back to the floor with a thump. A huge surgical scar bisected the back of the fallen man's head. "You have been compromised." The sergeant tapped the scar and began to dial on his comlink. "Beyond that, I can't tell you. Section command," he said turning his attention to the comlink, "This is Sergeant Kurzim. I am in command of Scout Squad 9, 10th Company detachment. We are currently running a recon in quadrant 413 of the heretic city of Beldath. We have located a prisoner in an old storage facility. No, he doesn't remember his anything. Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Immediately."  
  
The strength began to return to his legs. The survivor began to struggle to stand. "Help him up." Sergeant Kurzim barked as he turned to leave the room. "Finish your scan of this building. We're moving on." The crumpled body winced as the blinding light of Kurzim's flood light passed his eyes. "He is coming with us."  
  
*****  
  
"You," Kurzim pointed at the Marine that was burdened with assisting the new addition. "If this one is an alley, I want you to make sure he gets back to command alive. If he slows us down, you will stay with him. If he has betrayed the Emperor and is a member of the rebels. purify."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"The rest of you. Clear this street."  
  
"You hear that? I'm your new chaperone." The veteran scout laid the shivering man up against the inside wall of the entrance to the building. "I need a name for you."  
  
"Call me Azeroth." The seated man struggled to recall the simple details of his life.  
  
"Is your memory returning?" The scout checked his weapon and scanned the exit as the rest of his team returned to the street.  
  
"Call me Azeroth."  
  
"Very well, Azeroth. I am Kendral. Blood Angels Chapter, Marine Scout 10th company, serving the Emperor under Sergeant Kurzim. Azeroth found himself scanning the rooftops of the neighboring buildings.  
  
"Give me the mission parameters and the capabilities of the enemy." He fought to stand and braced against the wall. He struggled to recall anything about his life prior to that infernal tube, but nothing would reveal itself from within the recesses of his mind. "I am ready."  
  
"The planet is Beldath. The local governor is a traitor to the Empire and the Imperial legions under his control have stood as an affront the might of the Emperor for 96 hours. far too long. We are in the capitol city to root out the resistance forces who survived the bombardment."  
  
"Agreed. Give me a weapon."  
  
"Not going to happen, you are going back to command. You are not cleared for exercise in this theater."  
  
"Very well." Azeroth scanned the rooftop again. He saw a glint. He was sure that he did. "Sniper." He pointed to an open window moments before the gunman opened fire.  
  
The sniper caught Kurzim's unit just as it passed the open alleyway to inter the main street. The response was deafening. A hail of bullets from their bolters peppered the wall of the building, but the soldier had done his job. More than a fatal shot, the sniper bullet was a signal. Over the thudding of the bolters, the whine of incoming mortar rounds could be heard.  
  
Azeroth grabbed Kendral by his shoulder pads and threw him into the corner. The blast in the street blew molten plasma through the nearby doorway with a terrible roar. Using his full leverage, Azeroth braced his knees and pressed his left shoulder into Kendral's chest to prevent him from joining the immolated fates of his comrades.  
  
"Brothers!" Kendral shouted as he shoved and pushed against the one holding him back. When the fire subsided, Azeroth composed himself and allowed Kendral to enter the street. How easily he held down the man who was his size and build. For his lack of memory, he seemed to be able to recall these combat skills without effort. Perhaps his instincts were not damaged. Would that be enough to keep him alive?  
  
Azeroth turned and followed Kendral's path out the door. The carnage was total. More than six separate rounds had been dropped in the narrow street. The buildings threw the explosion in on itself causing massive damage to those trapped in the blast zone. No one survived.  
  
"We move on, Kendral." Azeroth picked up a bolt pistol from the fallen and cleared its breach. "Take me back to command so that we can refit ourselves and go out to avenge your fallen team."  
  
"Blood Angels do not wait for vengeance. We exact it." Kendral shivered with rage. "May. may the Emperor guide you, Azeroth." Kendral drew his sword and charged across the alley and into the building where the sniper had fired his shot.  
  
"Kendral!" Azeroth shouted as he perused the berserk warrior. He got to the door when his enhanced hearing picked up the sound of an engine. The creaking of wheels that cried under a tremendous weight echoed down the urban chasm. "Kendral! Tank!" Kendral was already up several flights of stairs.  
  
Azeroth glanced out into the street and saw the barrel of a massive tank turning to his position. It was a Leman Russ, but the Imperial insignias were scraped off. He turned and ran as the barrel lowered its sight to ground level. The explosion of the massive battle cannon threw the unarmored Azeroth halfway across the street. He landed next to one of the fallen scouts. He could hear his left forearm shatter as his frame slammed into a large piece of rubble.  
  
Bleeding and broken, Azeroth struggled to reach the corpse's comlink. "9th Scout platoon. nagh. 413th quadrant of Beldath. Heavy Fire with armor support. Back up now!" The tank laid down a withering rain of fire with its left side-sponson. "Heretics have been engaged!"  
  
"Confirmed, we are sending reserves." The reply was nearly inaudible by the sound of another round from the tank's bolter. Azeroth fired a useless shot at the hull of the massive behemoth and ran for the doorway of the storage facility. He took his cover just as a laser blast from the Russ shattered the adjoining wall. Through the falling rubble, he could hear the whine of the lascannon preparing for a second shot.  
  
Over the sound of the lascannon, the distant hum of jet engines began to grow. The noise started as a low buzz like a thousand insects and then swelled until the tremendous roar of the thrusters filled the street. Azeroth looked through the debris of his cover and saw seven marines in red armor. Blood Angels. Each of them had enormous jet packs on their backs. They landed among the bodies of the fallen scouts and advanced on the tank, their plasma weapons growing red hot with the rate of fire.  
  
The leader of the strike team knelt on the ground as his team advanced fearlessly on the armored vehicle. He placed a large dish on the ground and activated it. The homer aimed toward the sky and began to go through a sequence of start up checks.  
  
Within moments fragments of bright, blue light began to fill the air. Those ribbons of energy began to encircle each other and form hoops of flowing photons. Soon, the twelve rings of light became twelve orbs of light and a bulky, humanoid outline could be seen inside each one. The terminators stood alone as the most elite of the Space Marines. Their armor was so thick, so strong, and so heavy that they were most often deployed in this way. The glow of the teleport orbs faded and two units of the finest of the Blood Angels moved to engage the enemy of the Empire.  
  
The first squad charged the tank head on, almost trampling the sergeant that set their homing beacon as they lumbered into battle. Four of them were armed with wicked claws that were laced in deadly electricity. Their lightening claws crackled as they neared their target. The lascannon fired into the advancing beasts and caught the sergeant, the one holding a power sword, in the arm. Blown clean off, the shield that was held in that arm fell to the ground with a loud clang. In spite of the wound, the sergeant still advanced and held the line with his men.  
  
The second squad of these juggernauts came up the right flank of the ship. They passed by the broken doorway of Azeroth's building. Each of them held terrible weapons in their massive hands. They unleashed solid streams of fire as they patiently advanced. Azeroth knew so little of his former life, but surely this was his way. The sight of the battle made him thirst to be in it. He longed to fight beside them for the good of the Empire. for the will of the Emperor. He rose to join them. His blaster pistol quivering with excitement.  
  
"Eliminate all non-Imperial combatants from sector." The closest terminator spoke as the heat from his breath bloomed from the ventilator. "Non-Imperial sighted. Eliminate with extreme prejudice." His massive assault rifle whirred and chunked as the barrels began to blur. "In Sanguinius' name." The fiery metal casings exploded from the breach, but Azeroth was no longer there. With superhuman speed, he had closed the gap between him and the terminator and slid underneath the flames of his gun.  
  
"Listen to me! I am a marine! I have been separated from my armor! Look with your eyes not your technical display!"  
  
The firing stopped as the massive suit appeared to pause. "Name, Chapter, Division."  
  
"I am called Azeroth." He stood before the massive equipment suit. The marine turned and showed his scar. "I have been damaged and my memory has failed me."  
  
"Seek an apothecary." Azeroth turned to find the terminator lumbering away. "Squad, return to priority target." His weapon firing streams of bullets into the hull of the tank. The other squad of terminators had reached the first vehicle and was ripping it to pieces with their gruesome claws.  
  
The assault troops were already past the tank and were engaging the hapless human defense forces that advanced behind the armored columns. They were Militia. hardly worth the effort.  
  
A stray round from the battle deflected off of the nearby wall and caught Azeroth in the face. Absently, he touched his left cheek to feel the torn flesh that hung beneath his eye. He could see, but the bullet was wedged into his mandible bone. Unarmored and wounded, Azeroth advanced toward the enemy. His left arm hung lifeless and limp, the left side of his face was shredded and yet he advanced. It was the way of the Marine. Thou shall know no fear.  
  
Then, the shadowy corners of his mind whispered words that had been long forgotten. They were words of wisdom. Azeroth had memorized these phrases ages ago and they returned to him as though the tome of the Codex Astartes lay before him.  
  
"To die without purpose is not a service to the Emperor. It is a heresy to waste lives entrusted to you as an Imperial Officer. There is nothing shameful or disloyal in righteous retreat."  
  
He watched the Blood Angels as they fearlessly advanced on the enemy forces. Silently, Azeroth knelt beside the headless torso of a 9th squad member. One frag grenade had survived the explosions. He took that, removed the scout's combat sword, and withdrew from the battle zone.  
  
*****  
  
The haze of war hung on Beldath like a joyless carpet. Slowly, Azeroth picked his way through the debris field of the bombarded buildings. The bolt in his jaw had drifted and he could feel it pressing against the base of the skull. For the first time, he felt radiating pain flowing up his left arm. not a good sign at all. Several blocks ago, he had found a torn political banner and had slung the lifeless limb to make sure that it could be repaired when or if he found the rear lines.  
  
The first light of the morning was coloring the distant horizon. The marine's genetically enhanced vision had made the nights travel easy despite him being hopelessly lost. He swore and chastised himself for not retrieving a comlink, or staying with the advancing troops. Any other possible tactic had to have been more fruitful than this.  
  
In the blink of an eye, Azeroth brought up his bolt pistol and turned to his right. The end of the side arm tracked a small pebble as it fell silently from one floor to the next. It hit the dusty ground with a cushioned thunk. The rock had not fallen on its own. Something was in that wreckage. Quietly, he began to close the 200 meter gap between him and the ruins.  
  
Azeroth entered the building through what would have been the northern wall. He walked up to the pebble and examined the situation. It had fallen approximately three meters from the exposed second floor that jutted out like a shelf from the south and east walls. He tucked his bolt pistol in the sling along with his mangled arm. Azeroth lifted his right hand and gripped the shelf. Lifting his feet from the ground, the warrior hung by his one arm and began to effortlessly pull himself up to the second floor.  
  
The woman gasped in terror as she saw a shadow rise up into her hiding place. She scurried back further as the marine brought his leg over the floor and rolled himself up to her perch. He rose up into a crouch and drew his bolt pistol. The woman was a frail human. She looked like a hapless citizen of Beldath. These were the true victims of the governor's heresy. The pawns of a pointless conflict brought on by greed, the quest for power, and the seduction of the corrupting influences of the galaxy.  
  
He stood to his full height and looked at her. In the darkness she lay huddled in the fetal position. She was cowed. She had no food, no weapon, and no hope. What a sad existence it must be to not know your purpose. Azeroth quickly dismissed the line of thinking that statement brought on. He turned and prepared to return on his way.  
  
"Wait." He murmured. Something was wrong. She was a mere human. She was a civilian at that. She most likely had no survival training and was barely capable of defending herself. There was no way that she could have seen or heard me coming into the area. She was hiding for a different reason. "What else is here-"  
  
The creature pounced down at him from its roost. The long claws of the cat- like beast gripped Azeroth's back as the momentum of the leap took both of them over the edge. As they fell, the surprised marine reached over his shoulder with his good arm and griped the beast by its throat. He grunted as his hand snapped back down and threw the creature off of him. It crashed into the remnant of the northern wall.  
  
Without the time to brace himself, Azeroth landed on his sling with the full force of his fall. The pain was mind wrenching. His vision blurred as he tried to rise up to a sitting position. The creature had already regained its footing and was moving slowly toward its prey. It was not going to get the element of surprise again.  
  
The blood from Azeroth's reopened cheek ran into his eye and the silhouette of the beast blurred to a pair of green dots within a dark shadow. He reached around for his bolt pistol and found it thankfully close by. He fired several rounds in the direction of the creature, but it easily evaded the attacks. As he lowered the weapon, he lost the thing in shadow. Azeroth held his breath and tried to slow his heartbeats to lessen the throbbing in his ears. Where was it?  
  
The creature hissed a wicked call as it jumped. He took the opportunity to brace himself from the attack even though he didn't know the direction from which it would come. The creature hit him from the left this time and knocked him on his side. Using the momentum of the attack, Azeroth threw his legs up behind the creature. He kicked it in the rump and rolled with it.  
  
They tumbled off of the foundation of the building and into a ditch. Azeroth landed on the beast and drove his left knee into the creature's windpipe. Driving his right foot down on the abdomen of the beast, he pinned the predator to the earth. Enraged, he rammed the barrel of his pistol into the chest cavity of the creature and dug his knee deeper into the throat.  
  
"I WILL NOT DIE HERE!" He shouted as he threw spittle on the face of the now terrified creature. The thing struggled to free itself but went limp as Azeroth emptied his clip. Azeroth stood and wiped the bile splatters from his chest. He tossed the empty bolt pistol to the ground and turned to walk down the street. The amazed stare from the woman went unnoticed.  
  
What a failure this has been. Azeroth wandered further down the street as he clung to the wall. Better that I had died at the hands of the enemy than to fall far from the field of battle from my wounds. His blinking slowed and he took long, dragging steps and staggered to a pile of broken benches.  
  
He collapsed on the splintered heap and took a huge lingering gasp of air. He had never felt this way. It was as if his spirit had been ripped from his chest. His good limbs felt heavy and he no longer could force them to move. He rolled on his back and took another gaping breath. What have I become?  
  
Perhaps this is what death was. He could feel his body relaxing as he lay there looking up at the scorched sky. If I could only rest here for a few more minutes. If I could just close my eyes. 


	2. Evolution 2: Brothers in Blood

Evolution II: Brothers in Blood.  
  
The chaplain passed by the convulsing brothers as they spit out curses to the enemies of the Chapter. In their jet black armor, they waited for the coming battle. These were the Death Company. These were the selected of the Blood Angels who were shown to be afflicted by the Black Rage. They feared not death. Frenzied by hatred, they could not cling to their lives for they were already dead. They were the walking corpses whose names were already counted among the casualties of the next day's battle. No Death Company member had ever returned alive. They were to die in combat or rage themselves into oblivion.  
  
The holy brother removed his skull-engraved helmet and stepped into the temporary shelter at the head of the Beldath base camp. The small facility was filled with technical equipment and virtual reality read-outs of the city. At the head of the main strategy table, Commander Nerih sat and drank from his cup with grim concentration focused on the advancing left flank. Nerih had been the commander of the Division for a hundred years. His armor was decorated with the highest honors and many tales stood testament to his worthiness as both a commander and a soldier.  
  
"Greetings, my brother." The commander spoke without looking up. "How go the chosen? Where do you recommend that we deploy them when they are ready?"  
  
"My lord, Nerih. The numbers of the men stricken with the Black Rage grow by the hour. I expect we will have twenty-five by sunrise." The chaplain stepped up to the other end of the table and pointed at the location with the strongest resistance. "The men have requested that they be placed at the heart of district 764."  
  
"As expected. We have been struggling with the heretics there for two days now. I would not want them to be disappointed. Very well, tell them that they will meet the stronghold of the enemy resistance in the morning."  
  
"Very well, Commander."  
  
As the chaplain left, the battle-hardened commander stood and walked over to the communication network. Quietly, he read over the most recent battle reports. The campaign went well. He sensed a presence in the room. "Is there something else, Chaplain?"  
  
"Sir, it is Sergeant Tithca. And yes, I do have something that you should see." Tithca sounded winded and his scout uniform reeked of combat.  
  
"Sergeant, what am I to see?" The commander picked up his helmet and strode proudly toward the door.  
  
"Sir, my squad has returned from our mission and we discovered something not four kilometers from here. We brought it back for further instructions."  
  
"Something? Let me see." Nerih pushed past the sergeant and quickly made his way through the camp. His subordinate hustled behind him. The two made there way to a collection of scouts that were from Ithaca's squad. At their feet lay a crumpled body. It was sheathed in a black body suit and had the scabbard of a combat sword wrapped around its waist. The body was badly wounded. "You brought me a corpse?"  
  
"My commander, he is alive. We found him in some debris not far from here. He is a marine, but his identification marks have been removed and he bears no clues to his origins. He has no division or chapter insignias."  
  
"I know of this man. He was found in containment this morning. He is most likely not a member of a chapter. I suspect he is some agent of the Inquisition. Our apothecary is deployed at the moment. Is this man stable?" Commander Nerih questioned as he examined the body.  
  
"He heals quickly. He should be fully recovered within days, hours if the apothecary returns."  
  
"Put him in the brig. I don't want to take any chances."  
  
"Yes, sir." Two marines grabbed the marine by the shoulders and pulled him to his feet. As they lifted him, Azeroth's eyes opened.  
  
"You have been found by the Blood Angels." Commander Nerih bowed slightly to gain eye contact. "You have been compromised. You will be detained until your loyalties can be confirmed."  
  
Azeroth coughed and tried to focus on the commander. "Not again."  
  
*****  
  
Azeroth sat in his cell and stared out the only window. Behind the blue force shield, he tried to remember. He tried to recall his past. He watched a squad of marines as they sat for their mandatory relaxation. Marines required no sleep, but they did need to rest for several hours to maintain full effectiveness.  
  
Suddenly, a marine entered the field of view. It was Kendral and he held four human heads in his hands. He sat among his brothers and began to speak loudly about the vengeance he had visited upon the enemy. How Azeroth longed for that kind of camaraderie. He was alone. He had no one to draw strength from. Without his memory, he had no deeds to recall and no alleys to rely upon. Worse still (while he was in this cell) fulfilling the will of the Emperor could not be done.  
  
He heard footsteps and rose to meet the visitor. Commander Nerih stood on the other side of the power shield. The leader disengaged the barrier and entered the room. "Marine, I wish to speak to you."  
  
"Very well." Azeroth stretched his shoulder. His arm had almost completely healed.  
  
"Our apothecary was disintegrated in battle early this morning. Without him we are unable to do a genetic scan to find out who you are. You have three options." "I'm listening." "First, you remain here until we get another apothecary. You will be well cared for and will have access to a chaplain. You shouldn't be in here any longer than three days." Nerih could hear the grumble that the prisoner made.  
  
"Second, you will be flown by ship to our support craft in orbit. There your mind will be scanned and your identity will be discovered. If you are as you maintain, you will be returned to your commander. If you are a heretic, you will be destroyed."  
  
"These options are not acceptable. What is my third?"  
  
Nerih presented a satchel and a tiny pistol. "You take this las pistol, these rations, and this comlink. You find the governor and tell me where he is. We will bombard the location from orbit. If you survive, you will have proved your loyalty and I will allow you to function in a limited capacity within my command until your identity can be determined."  
  
"A suicide mission?"  
  
"Such a small price to pay in order to serve Emperor, don't you think? You could waste your time - and His - sitting in this cell or in some interrogation room on board a star ship."  
  
Azeroth paused for a second. "Well spoken. Give me some fatigues to compensate for my lack of armor and I will find your governor."  
  
*****  
  
The armored column lumbered down the main thoroughfare of Beldath. Ten vehicles strong, the Rhinos revealed perhaps the largest troop movement that the Blood Angels had launched since the battle for the purity of Beldath began three days ago. The red line of tanks was lead by two black ones. The obsidian-colored vehicles were marked with the symbols of the Death Company. Their time had come.  
  
Within the lead tank sat an odd collection of warriors. Near the cargo door, seven death company marines sat and tried to hold back the fury that drove them close to madness. Against the far wall, Azeroth sat opposite Commander Nerih and privately mused over the irony that he was lumped together with the other men who would die today.  
  
In the middle of the cramped room, a chaplain stood and recited words of wisdom to give his men something to focus on other than their rage and grief.  
  
".true victory is to crush your foes utterly, to shatter his armored legions and run down his fleeing troops as they scatter. Pursue them to their lairs and burn them out. Burst into his unholy temples, smash down his icons and topple his foul idols. Burn his heretical works and leave no stone upon stone. Slaughter his followers, their families and their livestock lest any of their taint remain."  
  
As the chaplain spoke, Nerih handed Azeroth a headset. "Plug this into your comlink and wear it. I want to watch your progress."  
  
"Very well."  
  
"If you succeed, your mission will end this pointless conflict. The troops will surrender when their leader is destroyed. You do understand the importance of what you are about to under take."  
  
"I do. I gladly take on this mission. My life is the Emperor's to do with as He pleases and this is obviously His will. Although I would like to be better equipped."  
  
"Make do with what you have. We are near your stop."  
  
"Any that have dealt with them or given them succor must be obliterated, for memory is insidious and though you have crushed their will and their bodies they may yet return." Azeroth stifled a chuckle at the chaplain's words. Memory insidious?  
  
"Send warrior scribes to excise the records of their name, expunge their deeds from the annals of history and remove even the memory of your foes existence. Only then have you truly won." The tank stopped and the back door began to drop. "This is the meaning of victory!"  
  
With a unified shout, the warriors in black surged out of the door and poured out into the street. Azeroth listened as weapons fire rippled down the line of tanks. Privately, he observed that the Blood Angels may be effective, but they were never subtle.  
  
Commander Nerih secured his helmet and checked his bolter. "This is our stop. Be quick and do not fail. Do not fail me, do not fail these men, and do not fail the Emperor. May Sanguinius guide your steps."  
  
The two advanced out of the tank and Nerih laid down enough fire to ensure that Azeroth made it into a near by building without resistance.  
  
Quickly, the unarmored marine entered the building and advanced up the floors to get a better vantage point. He made his way through the rooms to the third floor and crouched near a window that looked over the fire fight. The column had driven straight into the heart of the city's resistance. The unwashed masses of the defense forces poured from their hiding places as the Marines cut them down liked wheat.  
  
"I am spending far too much of these battles hiding." Azeroth lamented. He decided that the fastest way to rectify that would be to prove his loyalty and complete this mission. He surveyed the battle and watched as a small group of the enemy shouted commands from a bunker down the alley. Azeroth peered through the weapon slit and saw a communications radio among their equipment. Quietly, the impromptu assassin made his way back down to the street.  
  
The five members of the command squad frantically tried to hold their line as the marines advanced upon them like a red juggernaut. The charismatic and inspiring words of the governor were little comfort to them now. So this was what being outside of the Emperor's will was actually like.  
  
The radio hissed and a hurried message came through the speaker. "It is Lieutenant Mend! I'm at the door! Let me in!"  
  
"Why aren't you with your unit?" The captain questioned.  
  
"They are all dead, I need orders. Just open the door."  
  
The captain nodded to his staff sergeant who went and unlocked the door. The door flung open with such force that the sergeant was knocked prone. Lieutenant Mend entered the room, but his feet hovered over the floor. In one hand, Azeroth held the lifeless body of the lieutenant by the neck. In the other hand he held a radio.  
  
He smashed the radio against the wall and dropped the corpse to the floor. "He did lose his unit. At least that was true. I need to find the governor. Perhaps you can help me." His words were met with lasgun fire. The terrified soldiers fired blindly in his direction as he waded through them like a force of nature. Moments later, only he and the captain stood in a bunker whose walls were covered in blood and whose floor was strewn with broken bodies.  
  
The enormous frame of the marine towered over the human and his voice billowed as he spoke over the advancing weapons fire. "Heretic, you obviously have loyalty issues. Tell me where your superiors are. If you speak honestly, I will end it cleanly. If you do not, I will turn you over to the inquisitors. Either way you will speak. It is your choice."  
  
The captain's eyes widened at the mention of the inquisitors. Hushed rumors spoke of only one way that those men gathered information and he shuddered at the thought of it. Eyes closed tightly, he spoke in a weak and fearful voice. "The commander of our defense forces operates from a hidden bunker five kilometers from this position. It is under an old weapons refinery. It is the only location where I receive orders and I know of no other center of our command."  
  
There was a brief pause and the captain opened his eyes. He looked down the barrel of a las pistol. "That is the truth?"  
  
*****  
  
The factory was nearly ruined. Planetary bombardment had shaken the facility to its foundations. As always, the surface did not matter. What lies beneath reveals the truth. What truth would he find in the bowels of that base of operations? Azeroth moved quietly through the destroyed building.  
  
Huge containment tanks lay on their sides all around the facility. On the far side of the building, three soldiers sat and smoked. Hidden in the rubble beside them, Azeroth could make out what appeared to be a camouflaged blast door. Azeroth stepped out in the open and opened fire. Two of the men never got a chance to react. The third lunged for his weapon and ducked behind cover.  
  
Azeroth stood and leveled his pistol at the barrier. Eventually, both the las gun and the head of the sentry looked over the wall. Azeroth promptly shot him.  
  
Beside the corpse lay a communication radio. He had warned the station below. It would be impossible for Azeroth to fight them all without the element of surprise. He scanned the room and noticed a green residue all over the walls. Rubbing his finger across it and tasting it, he found it to be palleon gas. The chemical was used in superheating a forge to melt high resistance metals. Breath masks littered the debris. They weren't military grade breathers. These were here before the battle started.  
  
Azeroth collected several of drums of palleon gas that had survived the attack on the building. He opened the hatch to the bunker and peered down into the hole. A staircase lead down several stories and ended in a solid door.  
  
He rolled five of the drums down the stairs and then went back to the sentries and retrieved several frag grenades from their belts. Holding the bundle of explosives in his hands, he collected the pins in his mouth. He pulled them with a jerk of his head and tumbled the grenades down the stairs.  
  
They bounced down the chamber and rested on the pile of barrels that lay against the door. As Azeroth went back and gathered another bundle of grenades the corridor erupted in fire. The concussive force the explosion ruptured the door to the command center. Slowly, a green gas seeped into the room and hung in the air like a deadly visage.  
  
The door gave way under a second explosion and fell to the floor as more gas billowed into the room. Azeroth strode into the room shrouded in green haze. As the humans in the room choked and sputtered their last breathes, he began to search for clues on the governor's whereabouts.  
  
Because of the early warning, the occupants of this room had managed to destroy most of the evidence. Electronic equipment lay smashed and a pile of ash revealed what had happened to any hard copies they might have had.  
  
Azeroth cursed and overturned an adjacent table. Enraged by his ineptness and the stubbornness of these rebels, he drew his weapon and began to fire into the dying men. Shot after shot hit their targets with a soft thud, but offered Azeroth no respite from his anger.  
  
Across the room, a civilian man leaned in the corner and choked on the gas. He wore a robe of purple and clutched a book in one hand. Azeroth leveled his pistol and shot him. The blast refracted off of his chest and struck the wall which only infuriated the marine all the more. Beneath his singed clothes, the marine caught the shine of a metallic object.  
  
He ran and yanked the man to his feet. Angrily, he threw the fool across the room and into a metal cabinet. The defenseless heretic looked up only to find the marine on him yet again. Azeroth picked him up and smashed him back into the cabinet. "What is it that you are hiding under your shirt?" The agent of the Emperor ripped the robe from his victim as the man wheezed incoherently. "Shut up." Azeroth stated dripping in hatred and placed the las pistol in the man's mouth. "I'll find out myself." He pulled the trigger. Around the man's neck a large, silver hoop hung on a chain. The ring had engravings on the inside of if. It was not his native tongue, but Azeroth instantly knew its meaning. Memories flooded back to him in vivid detail. Faces, times, and places whispered secrets that they were unwilling to share not moments before.  
  
In that moment of clarity, a rage unknown to most men crossed Azeroth's face. He gripped the ring in his hand and spun to stare at the rebel remnant in the room. The few survivors would die by his bare hands. 


	3. Evolution 3: Know Thyself

Evolution III: Know Thyself.  
  
The walk to Beldath's main water reservoir from the command bunker was about an hour and a half, but Azeroth ran. He stood at the edge of the expansive, manmade lake and gazed at his reflection. The governor was down there, under the water. He was sure of it. He discarded pistol and secured the comlink to his belt. The marine kneeled down and peered into the water. He watched his reflection as he traced the scar on his scull.  
  
With a forward roll, Azeroth dove into the water and began to swim towards the bottom of the pool. In the center of the murky pond, a large, steel grill was welded over the main intake tube. He grabbed the grate and pulled it out of the way, the welding joints were fakes. Inside the two meter diameter intake valve, an airlock was nestled quietly out of view.  
  
He entered the airlock and hit the button to shut the exterior door. When the water drained from the room, he ripped the keypad from the wall and the door shorted. He forced it opened and stepped into the room.  
  
Quickly, Azeroth made his way across the equipment room. He snatched a bolt pistol from the weapons rack as he made his way over to the next chamber. This facility was the heart of the governor's resistance. His treachery had spent years to reveal.  
  
"Commander Nerih," Azeroth whispered, "I am very close to the governor, but hold off your bombardment. You will want to have this building intact."  
  
"Why is that, marine?"  
  
"The evidence in this room will show the rebels who or what they are truly following. You will be interested to know the origin of the governor's treachery. Send troops to my location instead."  
  
"What about the governor?"  
  
"I will take care of him. We have history."  
  
*****  
  
Azeroth entered the main chamber of the hidden base. It was a dark chapel with large pillars and banners of purple and silver rings hanging from the ceiling. Priests and clerics in purple robes wandered around the room. The far wall was a mural of a giant silver ring, bathed in exalted light with hands clasping it from all directions.  
  
The monks never heard Azeroth enter the room, but none could ignore the loud shouts of his bolt pistol as it announced his presence. He ran into the room and mowed down the fleeing men as he advanced. He paused to reload his weapon and cough the remaining cultists as they neared the large blast door beneath the graven mural.  
  
A silver altar sat on a raised dais in the middle of the room. On the altar, relics and tombs of the heretical faith sat as an affront to the Emperor. Azeroth jumped up on the dais and gripped the altar with his powerful hands. With a grunt of effort he overturned it and sent metallic artifacts clanging across the floor amid a rain of paper.  
  
From the shadows, a figure adorned in purple and carrying a staff capped with a large silver ring stepped out. "My dear Azeroth, how good of you to return to me."  
  
"YOU!" Azeroth boomed as he leapt from the platform. "I will enjoy watching you die!"  
  
"Temper. You always were such a hot-headed creation." The governor tsked as he waved a finger at the advancing marine.  
  
Azeroth met his tormentor with a hail of bullets. An orange orb encircled the man and deflected the shots harmlessly away.  
  
"I would watch your self, Azeroth." The governor stated grimly as he leveled his staff in the marine's direction. "I would hate to damage you. The aliens are charging so much for live marine slaves."  
  
"You defiled me! You tampered with my head and who knows what else!" Azeroth stormed straight up to the man and reared back to strike him with the bolt pistol.  
  
The man let out an amused laugh and struck the marine across the chest with his staff. The ring let out a burst of energy and Azeroth was knocked to the floor. Azeroth reached for his pistol which was knocked from his reach by the end of the staff.  
  
"You had such potential. You and the others were going to be my greatest followers. With the right implants removed, you would be free to think for yourselves for a change. It took years for us to perfect the deprogramming techniques, but it was well worth it. Imagine, Imperial Marines speaking out against the tyranny of the Emperor. What a statement!"  
  
The governor placed electric ring against the shoulder that Azeroth favored and pinned him to the floor with it. He winced in pain as the electricity surged through his body.  
  
"A universe ruled by man. No more impersonal Emperor to dictate from the hidden Golden Throne. A people ruled by the vibrant populace not the dying husk of a god."  
  
Azeroth struggled with his free arm and, with great effort grabbed the ring and pulled it from his shoulder. "Heresy!" He held it as energy played off of his hand and face and shoved it back at its wielder. The governor staggered back and used his staff for balance. Azeroth stood and began to regain his bearings. "What a fool you are! How dare you assume that you are wiser than Him! You elevate yourself above your station."  
  
"We are all equal! Well, at least we humans are. You are a concoction. A creation of a twisted dictator who would rather subjugate his people with genetically altered warriors than dare take any chance of descent!"  
  
Azeroth had stopped listening. Filled with rage, he jumped to his feet and grabbed the staff with both of his hands. He wrenched the pole from the governor's hands and turned it on him.  
  
"You have been perverted by evil. Your mind has been twisted by treacherous lies and you have been deceived." With a mighty swing, Azeroth struck him with the staff and threw him against the wall. "I would have never served your twisted dreams. My loyalty is locked in my soul, not my organs. That is why I tried to escape from you before and why I will kill you now."  
  
"You will not quench the wave of revolution." The governor spat.  
  
"You will be forgotten. Your revolution, your treason, will be forgotten with your death. I hope that you will have repented by the time you expire." Azeroth swung the staff down on the governor and encircled the man's head with the ring. Electricity began to run through his head and he let out a blood curdling scream. With another thrust of force, he shoved the ring down over the governor's face and round his neck. With it around the throat, Azeroth lifted the man off the ground. The heretic strangled to death as tiny fingers of lightening played across his head and neck.  
  
With a wine and clank of mechanics, the blast door at the head of the room opened. Azeroth turned to see who was entering the room. Standing in the doorway was an abomination of humanity. A pale human adorned in marine armor, but twisted with gruesome skulls and pieces of dried human flesh bolted to it. The blasphemous symbol of a dark god hung on his chest.  
  
"You must be responsible for this perversity!"  
  
The comment was met with maniacal laughter.  
  
"Then you will die as well. Crimes against the Emperor will not be tolerated!"  
  
The twisted human smiled cruelly and lifted his arm. Over his shoulder he signaled with a flick of his fingers. With a demonic growl, two huge dogs bounded into the room.  
  
Azeroth recognized the beasts immediately. Their glowing green eyes stared hungrily at him. The first lurched toward him with its mate close behind. Azeroth readied the staff and grinned confidently. "You will fall before me. I know your secret." He said to the beast.  
  
The creature leapt at him, but he turned and side stepped the attack. As it passed by him, he rammed his shoulder into its hide and rolled with the momentum. He grasped the creatures slimy body with his free hand and, using leverage and the speed of the beasts flight, flung it into the overturned alter which sat some twenty meters behind him.  
  
The marine rolled with the throw and came out of the fall ready to take the second beast. It lunged forward and he swung the staff at it. With deadly aim, he placed the ring of the staff in front of the creatures head as the surprised fiend dove right into it. Azeroth jerked the staff when the creatures head passed through the hoop and spun around with the movement of the creature. As he turned, the helpless dog revolved around him at the end of the staff. Halfway through the first rotation, Azeroth heard two snaps, the first was the creatures neck and the second the staff as it split in two under the stress of the maneuver.  
  
The triumphant marine gripped the metal shard in his hand and charged the first fiend before it could return to its feet. He caught the thing before it rose completely. Gripping its neck with one hand, it plunged the sharpened pole fragment into its ribs repeatedly. When the creature finally shuddered and died, Azeroth impaled the beast again and picked it up. He draped the bloody carcass over the fallen altar where he felt the foul beast belonged.  
  
"They are effective hunters, but they lack greatly in the basic concepts of physics." Azeroth mused back at his foe. He turned and advanced on the enemy.  
  
The surprised nemesis threw down his bolter and drew a wicked looking sword. With a hum, the sword became sheathed in a blue glow and crackled with energy bolts. "I am Champion Drihzel, servant of Lord Tzeentch. I am the great corruptor. I whisper truth to those who listen. I tell the oppressed how to be set free."  
  
"Free like a helpless sheep is freed into a den of wolves. Foul servant of chaos, you have mocked the will of the Emperor for the last time. I will end your corruption!"  
  
"Freedom is open to interpretation. Of course freedom is over rated. I prefer pure dominance. I will enjoy killing you, weakling." Drihzel raised his sword and prepared to cleave the fool in half. As Azeroth neared him, he made a huge arc with his sword and was surprised at the speed at which the intended target dodged the swing. Marines shouldn't move like that. Drihzel turned and winced as blood dripped out from under his arm. He reached up and felt the deep gash between his armor plates just under his arm.  
  
Azeroth stood in the blast door's archway and turned as he spun the wicked combat knife he held in his hand. It dripped in blood and was adorned in symbols of chaos. The marine smiled as he showed Drihzel his own weapon. "It's amazing how fast you can move without all that cumbersome armor." He managed to maintain his taunting ere despite how much he wished he was in the security of a power suit.  
  
The Champion shouted obscenities at his hated enemy and charged him. As Drihzel advanced, Azeroth prepared to dodge the attack as he had before. The sword swing came and he stepped aside, but as he did, his vision slightly blurred. Drihzel appeared to morph into some one far more hideous, more fearsome and the room appeared to change shape before his eyes. Overcome with the vertigo, Azeroth was unable to fully avoid his opponent. The sword passed over his head, but his leg slipped and he started to stumble. The blind charge of Drihzel knocked the marine to the floor and trampled him under foot as the agent of chaos stormed past.  
  
Azeroth coughed up blood and struggled to his feet. A kick had injured his shoulder again and several bones in his chest had broken.  
  
"You don't seem as quick now, blind fool." Drihzel laughed as he relished the pain he had caused. He walked up to the half prone marine and kicked him in the chest with a pneumatic-assisted boot. Azeroth fell back, but managed to roll out of the way of the sword's follow up attack.  
  
Azeroth staggered across the floor as it appeared to morph and shift around him. Colors and images blurred before his eyes. What was going on?!?  
  
Azeroth turned around to receive a backhand to the face. The hit from the gauntlet spun him around and put him back on the floor. As he hit the floor, the pattern on the tile changed and even the smell in the air became more acrid.  
  
"You are such a fool." Azeroth's ability to understand Drihzel's words came and went as the vile creature spoke. ".the Emperor has failed us all. .you stand here and dare to face me." only snippets and phrases could he make out and they seemed not make any sense. ".most beautiful and pure of us all. .see reason. .come to chaos. join my rebellion. .don't throw your life away." The ramblings of the tormented and insane?  
  
"I will never turn away from the Emperor. He is the only purpose that I have. You will not succeed. I can hear the Emperor at the gate. Your death knell has been sounded."  
  
With the last of Azeroth's strength, he attempted to rise to face the perpetuator of heresy. Shocked at the marine's resilience, Drihzel plunged his elbow into the small of Azeroth's back. Azeroth felt his spine creak under the blow and he hit the floor with a thud. Face on the floor, the fallen warrior watched his breath condense on the tile. ".your death knell."  
  
"Will be sounded long after yours!" Drihzel shouted in triumph as he turned his sword downward and prepared to drive it through flesh.  
  
The breath mark on the floor began to slow as Azeroth watched his own air escape him. He winced in pain and closed his eyes to thank the Emperor for this chance to make things right. even though he failed. He opened his eyes and watched as a single white feather fell gently to the ground. Shocked, Azeroth gazed at it as it rested on the tile. It was a perfect feather. Its pure white color was tainted by smudges of blood. Then another feather fell. Then a third feather fell into his view. His skin began to burn with a fire that he had never felt before and hatred welled up from within his heart.  
  
"What are you looking at?!?" Drihzel demanded as he watched the marine reach and grasp at nothing. The look on his victim's face was not one of terror or anguish, but of sorrow and loss. The champion of chaos preferred his combatants to fear him as they died, oh well. He plunged the sword downward, but hit only floor.  
  
Azeroth rolled out of the way as the cruel looking blade struck the tile. He turned onto his back and looked up at Drihzel. His face flashed from sorrow to rage. A rage that could not be matched by any sane man. The marine stood and glared at the Champion of Chaos, the champion of evil. "YOUR DETH KNELL SOUNDS NOW!" he shouted throwing spittle onto Drihzel's face.  
  
Slightly taken aback by the sudden surge of intensity, the champion's sadistic smile faded from his face. He may have been taken off guard by the strange occurrence, but he did not hesitate. Angrily, he drove the sword into Azeroth's stomach.  
  
The blade slid smoothly through Azeroth with a sickening wet slurp. Drihzel watched with satisfaction as the death blow impaled his target. What a worthy kill! The champion smiled and looked up only to find the maddened stare of Azeroth's soulless eyes burning back at him. Hatred blazed in those orbs and then an equally evil grin appeared on that hate- filled face. Shaking from excitement, Azeroth reached up with both hands. His bare hand grabbed Drihzel by the hair and forced his head back. The second hand drove the heretic's own combat knife deep into his throat.  
  
The shocked Drihzel gurgled a final profane insult and slumped lifelessly to the floor. The sword slid from Azeroth's abdomen as the dark warrior fell. Bleeding profusely from his stomach, but still blinded by rage, Azeroth clutched his wound and staggered over his fallen foe. The feathers seemed to float about him like rain and then disappeared as quickly as they fell.  
  
Quivering and sweating profusely, Azeroth fumbled to the dais and collapsed upon it. His blurring vision looked up at the mural. He read the inscription upon the ring. Strength in unity. Power in diversity. Purity in freedom. He coughed and gasped for another breath of air. Emptying his satchel on the floor, he found not a single medical kit among the rations, useless.  
  
His skin was burning and his heart beats rang in his ears. The world seemed to spin. Over the din of the throbbing, he could hear the sound of power suits coming down the corridor. Commander Nerih's voice was barking orders to his men. "I can hear the Emperor at the gate." Azeroth murmured as his eyes dilated.  
  
*****  
  
The chaplain passed by the convulsing brothers as they spit out curses to the enemies of the Chapter. In their jet black armor, they waited for the coming battle. These were the Death Company. These were the selected of the Blood Angels who were shown to be afflicted by the Black Rage. They feared not death. Frenzied by hatred, they could not cling to their lives for they were already dead. They were the walking corpses whose names were already counted among the casualties of the next day's battle. No Death Company member had ever returned alive. They were to die in combat or rage themselves into oblivion.  
  
The one called Azeroth sat among his brothers with sweat streaming down his face. He gripped his bolt pistol and tried to hold back the red vision of his rage. He struggled to hold it back for three more hours. He could not feel the deep wound that had torn away most of his innards. He didn't care. He just needed to keep himself alive for three more hours.  
  
The chaplain lowered himself to Azeroth's level. "Brother, you have been taken with the Black Rage. The origin of your chapter is now known. You are a Blood Angel after all. As a son of Sanguinius, you bear the rage as your birth rite. The images you see before you now are the imprinted last sights of our primarch as he died. It is a part of you. It is a part of me." The marine shook as the chaplain placed a parchment with a protective ward on Azeroth's chest plate and secured it with the wax seal of the Emperor.  
  
"Has your memory returned?" The chaplain asked as he checked Azeroth's eyes.  
  
"Yes." Azeroth growled as he held back the thirst for blood. "Completely." He looked down at his leg and absently brushed a bloody feather off of it.  
  
"What are you?"  
  
"I am a Blood Angel, a holy warrior for the Emperor. I am a tool of his will and the fire to purify his people."  
  
"Good. You will do the Chapter proud tomorrow, Brother Azeroth."  
  
"I am not Azeroth."  
  
"Then who are you?" The Chaplain made ready to scribe his true name in the Book of the Martyrs.  
  
"I am Vengeance."  
  
*****  
  
"As each warrior dies and is laid upon the mighty alter of battle, with toll of bell and scratch of quill we shall count his days in death as in life." 


End file.
