Just came up with the idea for this extremely tough cadian guardsman, hope you enjoy
“Heavy stubber!” Timothy Grange screamed at the top of his lungs, dropping to the floor. All around, his comrades did the same as the reinforced bunker was raked with slugs from a traitor’s heavy stubber.
“Get back up you fools! Get back up and fight!” Commissar Yule ordered, looking at the prone guardsmen in disgust.
The man next to Timothy immediately stood up, and a stray bullet smashed into his helmet, denting it severely and fracturing his skull. He dropped down, knocked cold. Timothy dragged him to the side of the bunker before picking up his autogun and running to the gun port to fire it at the advancing heretics. A few feet to his left, Leonard Pip fired away with a mounted heavy bolter.
Tim ducked once more as the heavy stubber started to fire upon them again. But, fearing Commissar Yule’s wrath, he brought his gun up and started to shoot once more.
As he ducked down once more to escape the flying slugs, Timothy yelled at the commissar, “Sir, we have to retreat! That heavy stub—” Tim blacked out as a high intensity laser bore into his chest. He woke a few seconds later, Leonard Pip looking at him, then to the commissar fearfully before firing away with his heavy bolter once more.
Tim coughed up blood, and drawing forth all his strength, he staggered onto his feet once more, “Commissar, we cannot hold,” he rasped. Commissar Yule turned his way, his eyes wide in surprise.
“I admire your courage in trying to dissuade me... for the second time. But no,” Yule said defiantly, “I will not stand down to these Chaos dogs. They will have to plant a bullet into my heart before I do. I will let you live, for you must be either stupid or brave to cross me twice. I warn you however, do not advise
At hearing this, Timothy’s legs gave way and he fell to the ground, leaning on the bunker’s hard concrete walls.Yule beckoned and a guardsman crossed the bunker over to Timothy, crouching below the gun port so as not to get shot. He kneeled by and removed a medipac from his belt. Grabbing a jar of salve, he treated the scar and handed Tim some painkillers.
Feeling slightly better, Timothy grabbed his autogun and crawled over to the gun port, peeking over the ledge only to shoot. The traitor Guardsmen were getting closer and Timothy could even see chaos space marines, their armour a twisted, perverse image of their loyalist counterparts. This was going to be a hell of a fight, and Tim doubted any of them would escape alive.
“...swamped by enemies and requesting heavy artillery barrage, over!” Lt. Egger was yelling into his vox caster, “Zero, three, three, novemb—” At that moment, a horrid mass of muscle shot through the gun port, covering Egger’s face. Egger thrashed wildly for several long seconds, clawing at the terrible being covering his face before going limp, dropping his lasgun and falling to his knees.
The ball of flesh leaped away once more, and to everyone’s horror, it took Egger’s head with it.
“Daemon scum!” Commissar Yule screamed, bringing his las pistol to bear, he emptied a dozen rounds into the flying daemon. The construct of chaos hissed and bounced out of the bunker. Timothy’s eyes followed it out the gun port.
“By the Emperor’s holy light...”