The Commissar looks out from his niche, pleased. He wonders at his odds of survival without the vets. The Commissar was trained to fight on the front lines, inspiring his troops and leading them to victory in the name of the Emperor. He never wanted to sit behind and wait while all his men died. But the Emperor desires his survival, and so it must be. Without the veterans, he would not be able to sneak by all the chaos patrols in his flashy uniform.
“Excellent work, men. Wait at the door for me,” he voxes. He makes his way down the corridor, stepping over the bodies of fallen cultists as though they were rocks in the road. He reaches the door and finds his three loyal men waiting for him. “We continue West. The shuttle bay should be accessible from the main hub.” “I have a bad feeling about this, Commissar” says Wraith, “I felt it before, when I fought with chaos in the past. There’s a trap up ahead.” The Commissar shrugs it off. “Then we use caution
The connecting corridor up ahead contained a mere cultist, kneeling upon a painted Chaos star, as though in prayer. “Perhaps we can use him for questioning” suggests Tincan. “I have no questions. The Enemy is deceitful.” With this, the Commissar draws his regal power sword and decapitates the cultist with one swift strike. “Sir, he could have given us information!” Tincan persists. “The Commissar turns to him coldly. “Know your place. I call the shots here. You do as you are told. We move!” The team walks down the corridor and reaches the door to the main hub.
The door slides open.
A large number of guardsmen are in the vast room beyond, the 12th light infantry platoon, lasguns blazing. They are shouting as though in fear of an unseen enemy. The vets edge closer, peering out the doorway.
A large power-armored figure lumbers forward, the stench of rot and death pouring off his body. In a bubbly voice, he declares, “I am the Reaper. Lord Nurgle desires your lives.”
A flood of white-hot pus erupts from the barrel of his modified flamer, engulfing and disintegrating a score of guardsmen. They fire back, but the shots seem to do nothing against his bulky armor.
“I am the Bloodlust! Come face me! Blood for the blood god! Skulls for the skull throne!”
the voice seems to resonate out of nowhere. Then, a large blood red figure appears on one of the support struts, his chameleonic wings unfolding. Jumping form his perch, he swoops down and soars over the heads of the guardsmen, chainaxes extended so that they cleaved off the heads of four. One brave guardsman stepped forward, carrying a powerful melta gun. “Die filth!” he screams.
Before he could pull the trigger, a large tongue wraps around his hand. Steam rising from the area, he screams and drops the gun, just to have his head lopped off by a giant yet elegant power sword. The Slaanesh champion let him fall to the ground before swinging his blade into the bodies of more guardsmen in a dance-like manner. “I am the Ecstasy! Allow pain and pleasure to fill every orifice of your body!”
The guardsmen are now reduced to only a few, scrambling about, firing their lasguns in dire hope of survival. But these foes are too powerful for them. The weak lasbolts do little on the traitor marines’ power armor. A large marine in sapphire blue armor appears from the shadows, black fire emanating from him. “I am the Sorcerer. Seye on evah I. Elbicnivni ma I!”
he hisses from the grills on his helmet. He points his golden staff at a terrified guardsman and shouts something in chaos tongue. A lance of black fire shoots out, incinerating the Imperial’s flesh from beneath his armor.
Within moments, the whole scene is over. Every guardsman’s body lay scattered across the floor in various, horrible ways. The four chaos Champions exit the room.
The Commissar stands there in stunned silence. He had never fought chaos space marines before, and witnessing the carnage caused by only four of their number makes him think that hiding in the storage room was a good idea after all. Shadow moves forward, vengeance on his face. The Commissar extends an arm to block him. “No, Shadow. The stench of chaos is strong. Simply being close to the bodies of those guardsmen would be enough to corrupt you. We take an alternate route.” The vets’ faces show a mix of anger, fear, and disappointment.
The Commissar leads the team north, but stops in the next room. “There appear to be heavily-armed patrols here. From what I can see, they are armed with Imperial lasguns and flak jackets. I can also make out a traitor marine at the far end of the room. Neutralize the traitor marine and I should be able to make it through. You can’t kill him with your current weapons, so check for a weapons locker. Also try not to let him see you, unless you want to end up like those guardsmen we saw back there.”