Day 184. Year 988.41st millennium
Opel III
Hive Orion
Lower Hive
Eric followed Omega steadily. As they moved, he realized the path they were taking led right back to where he had just helped the psyker to his feet. Eric stepped over the headless corpse of Cronos, still clad in its massive power armour, trying his best not to think about it. It only brought back the highly unpleasant memory of being pinned under the gang leader's crushing weight—not to mention the fact that Cronos's severed head was currently dangling from his own belt.
What really occupied his mind, however—and what fueled his growing paranoia—was the fear that Omega would drag him into some bizarre, highly dangerous situation before they even got to the actual mission.
He watched as Omega approached the body of a House Guard. The top half of the soldier had been cleanly severed from the bottom at a diagonal angle. The cut was perfectly smooth; the high-quality carapace armour the unfortunate guard wore had been sliced through like butter. The upper torso had also been brutally crushed. It was undoubtedly the handiwork of Cronos, wielding his power axe and enhanced by his power armour.
Omega reached down and retrieved a laspistol from the corpse. Eric noted that it was larger and bulkier than any standard laspistol he had ever seen or used. Instead of the typical straight, short magazine, its power pack was a thick, blocky rectangle, indicating a much higher energy capacity.
Guess he's looking for an upgrade, Eric thought, watching Omega expertly flip and inspect the weapon. It made perfect sense. Given the choice, Eric wouldn't want to rely on a crude autogun over a high-grade lasgun or laspistol either.
"This is yours," Omega said, rising from the corpse and offering the laspistol to Eric.
Eric took the weapon without a word of protest or resistance. His reasoning was simple: he was at a severe disadvantage, and picking a fight with Omega right now would be incredibly stupid. Plus, he was getting a direct benefit out of it—at least he now had a solid backup weapon.
Omega then turned his attention to another dead House Guard, whose body was in much better condition than the last. This one appeared to have taken a massive, blunt-force impact directly to the face. The blow had been so devastating that both the helmet and the underlying facial plating were completely caved in.
"Ditch that junk armor and strip the flak armour off this corpse," Omega ordered, his voice devoid of emotion. But the look he gave Eric was cold, ruthless, and highly dangerous.
Eric complied immediately, not daring to ask questions. He quickly unbuckled the harness and removed the crudely fashioned scrap-metal chest plate. The moment the heavy, flat metal hit the floor, he felt a wave of immense relief, even if it was only temporary. He absolutely hated that scrap armor; it was completely flat and not at all designed to accommodate a female physique.
He stripped the flak armour from the dead House Guard and quickly strapped it on. He had to admit, the rigid chest plate made him feel almost as suffocated as the scrap metal had. But he couldn't complain. He knew just how vastly superior House Guard equipment was compared to standard PDF gear. The carapace-reinforced flak he was now wearing could easily stop standard autogun rounds and basic las-fire.
In a matter of moments, Eric was fully geared up. He now had far more durable protection, significantly increasing his chances of survival. ...Right, it just increases the 'chance' of survival, he reminded himself cynically. Furthermore, the high-quality tactical armour clashed absurdly with the filthy, ragged clothes he was wearing underneath.
_I should have just let him die back there_, Eric lamented inwardly, letting out a soft sigh.
If he had just decided to extract when he had the chance, he wouldn't be in this mess. He glanced at Omega for a split second before looking away. Judging by the man's stoic demeanor, Omega didn't care about his feelings in the slightest.
_Well, who would care about the feelings of... someone who just single-handedly killed a massive gang leader in power armour? _Eric mocked himself. He tried to rationalize things from Omega's perspective. Since their second meeting, Omega had been cold, emotionless, intimidating, and strictly logical (except for their very first encounter, where Omega had punched him in the stomach for no apparent reason). From Omega's point of view, ignoring the emotional state of an assassin sent as reinforcements probably made perfect sense... even if that assassin was entirely unprofessional and unwilling to be there.
"Move out. We need to clear this sector room by room to find the target," Omega stated, turning back toward the direction they had just come from.
The path Omega was taking led straight toward the armory block. Since Eric had already scouted most of those rooms while stealthily tailing Cronos, he quickly spoke up to save them both some time.
"If you keep going down this corridor, it leads to the armory. Most of the rooms are completely empty, I already checked. Here, I have a schematic of the base," Eric said, his voice laced with a hint of nervous urgency. He reached into his pouch, pulled out the notbook he had purchased from Raul, and held up the mapped layout for Omega to see. Inside, he braced himself, afraid Omega might react negatively or take offense to being corrected.
"Then we ignore those rooms and redirect our attention to the unchecked sectors," Omega replied instantly, plucking the notbook from Eric's hand to cross-reference the layout and pinpoint their location.
Eric let out a quiet breath of relief. Thankfully, Omega wasn't hostile or overly prideful.
"Okay," Eric agreed.
They continued their advance through the facility, with Eric acting as a guide through the corridors he had already traversed. As they moved, Eric observed Omega's posture, his weapon handling, and his footwork. Every movement was precise, efficient, and wasted no energy. It was moving with clear, lethal purpose—exactly like a special forces operative.
It made sense. Omega was a commander of the House Guard serving Lord Valen Korvax; of course he was elite. Eric, on the other hand, still held his weapon and moved like a run-of-the-mill PDF conscript.
Even though he could admire the skill, Eric still didn't like Omega one bit. Their first encounter hadn't exactly been a great start: Omega had used his psychic powers to drag Eric into a dark alley, punched him in the gut hard enough to drop him to the floor, casually mentioned Eric was a psyker, and walked away. Their second encounter involved Omega saving his life. Eric was grateful for that, but at the same time, Omega's chilling, emotionless, and terrifying demeanor kept him constantly on edge.
Approaching an intersection, Eric trailed behind carefully, mimicking Omega, who was moving in a low crouch and hugging the metal bulkhead. It felt like imitating the SWAT, GSG9, or SAS operatives he used to see in movies and video games.
He kept his eyes scanning front and back, his weapon raised and ready to fire at a moment's notice. Suddenly, he caught the glint of a lasgun barrel poking out from the corner ahead.
A House Guard violently pivoted around the corner, aiming a heavy-barreled lasgun dead at Eric's head. To the guard, Eric looked like just another dirty Iron Fang ganger wearing their scavenged gear.
Startled, instinct took over. Eric snapped his rifle up to return fire. But he was too slow. Even though his reaction time was faster than an average PDF trooper's, it wasn't fast enough to beat an elite House Guard who already had his finger on the trigger.
In the fraction of a second before the guard fired, Omega roughly shoved Eric's shoulder aside. A ruby-red laser beam seared through the air, missing Eric's head by mere millimeters. He could feel the blistering heat of the shot passing his cheek.
"Ah!" Eric yelped in shock and a flash of pain as his rear end slammed hard onto the metal deck.
Before he could react further, the House Guard adjusted his aim back to Eric's head, ready to fire a follow-up shot. But Omega threw his hand up.
"Stand down! She is an ally!" Omega barked, his voice loud but still devoid of panic.
"Yes, sir," the House Guard replied in a crisp, disciplined tone. He lowered his weapon immediately, perfectly calm, though his eyes remained locked on Eric as he clumsily scrambled up from the floor.
_Damn it... that hurt_, Eric grumbled inwardly, rubbing his bruised backside with his free hand. He then turned his attention to the guard.
"Sitrep," Omega demanded coldly.
The House Guard straightened his posture and delivered a clear, concise report. "Our element breached via the East Gate, sir. We have cleared all rooms on the second floor of the eastern wing. My squad has suffered zero casualties. However, we discovered that the other elements were compromised and wiped out during the assault."
The guard's voice was just as neutral and emotionless as Omega's. Omega nodded at the grim news.
"Where is the rest of your squad?" Omega asked.
"The remaining two operatives are holding the two-way intersection dead ahead, sir," the guard answered.
Omega gave a slight nod of satisfaction and issued his orders. "Summon them here. We press the assault. We've hit multiple sectors of the facility and found our target absent. There are only a few viable locations left. My element breached via Gate B52 and has already cleared the adjoining corridors." Omega pulled out the notbook and gestured for the guard to step closer.
"Yes, sir," the guard nodded politely.
"We are here. These sectors remain unchecked," Omega said, pointing at the schematic. The two of them began discussing breach tactics and clearing procedures, using heavy military jargon that went completely over Eric's head. He felt like he was standing there watching two geniuses speak a foreign language.
"Retrieve the rest of the squad. We strike immediately," Omega finalized.
The House Guard saluted crisply, turned the corner, and vanished. Omega then turned his gaze to Eric, his single eye calculating.
"Are you proficient in CQB?" Omega asked, questioning the combat capabilities of the young woman standing before him. Even though he knew Erica had managed to kill a hulking brute in power armour—albeit via a strike from behind—Omega still wasn't entirely convinced of her skills in a tight firefight.
"CQB?" Eric pointed a finger at himself, awkwardly avoiding eye contact with Omega's singular, piercing gaze. His body language practically screamed a sudden loss of confidence.
Sure, he had fought Genestealers, deranged Chaos Cultists, and massive green Orks—and almost all of those fights had been up close and personal—but he had absolutely zero formal training in Close Quarters Battle. Having someone who looked and acted like a hardened spec-ops veteran ask him that made him feel incredibly inadequate.
How the hell do I answer this? Eric panicked slightly, glancing at Omega, who was waiting patiently. Lying seemed like a terrible idea.
"Uh... I'm not really good at that kind of fighting," Eric admitted, his voice wavering slightly with the truth.
Omega didn't react. He didn't scoff or look disappointed. He simply gave a small nod, brought up the datapad again, and looked as if he were silently recalculating his tactical approach.
Eric let out a quiet breath. Thank the Emperor. At least Omega didn't berate him or call him useless. Omega was turning out to be far more reasonable than Eric had initially given him credit for... or perhaps he just had superhuman patience.
Wait a minute... A sudden thought struck Eric. He hadn't seen Omega or a single House Guard using a portable vox-caster! He knew the dark future of the 41st Millennium was full of strange and wondrous things, but a billionaire hive lord's elite private army operating without basic personal comms was bizarre.
"Why don't any of you have personal radios?" Eric finally asked, curiosity getting the better of him.
"It is unnecessary," Omega replied flatly.
Taking the hint, Eric didn't push the subject further.
A moment later, the first House Guard returned with two others. Each carried a specialized loadout. One was armed with a heavy flamer, and the other carried a massive, red-cased boltgun—smaller than an Astartes bolter, certainly, but still a devastating weapon. Like the first guard, they exuded lethal professionalism and strict discipline.
With the squad assembled, Omega immediately designated roles. He and the House Guards would form the spearhead to breach the target's likely location. Eric was assigned to the very back of the formation, tasked solely with providing rear security and fire support. Once the briefing was done, they moved out.
_I am so damn lucky,_ Eric thought, falling in line behind the rear guard. Initially, he thought he was going to have to clear rooms side-by-side with Omega. But not only were there surviving elite troops to take point, he was also placed in the safest possible position. No one in the galaxy was luckier than him right now.
____________________________________________
Inside a large, rectangular room—lavishly furnished in stark contrast to the grim, industrial squalor of the Lower Hive—stood fifteen humans and three distinctly alien figures. Fourteen of the humans were heavily armed bodyguards protecting Lord Ritus Rist, a key financial backer of the Iron Fang gang.
"Por'el, we have to flee! That mutant is coming to kill me!" Lord Ritus Rist shrieked in a panicked frenzy at the T'au Water Caste diplomat sitting calmly on the sofa. Ritus's terror was a stark contrast to the alien's serene composure.
Nearly two hours ago, explosions had rocked the base, signaling a massive breach. Cronos and the bulk of his gang had rushed out to repel the attackers. There had been no word from them since. It was becoming agonizingly clear that they were dead, and the threat was far more severe than a simple rival gang dispute.
Ritus tried to maintain his composure, but he was failing miserably. He knew exactly who was coming: Omega, the mutant lapdog of Lord Valen Korvax. And Omega was coming to execute him for the crime of aiding rebels.
Por'el, the Water Caste envoy, maintained a mask of perfect tranquility, though internally, he was feeling a twinge of alarm. His grand scheme to incite a popular uprising on this world was crumbling. If the local human insurgents died, it was a setback; he could simply fade into the shadows and wait for an opportunity to agitate a new group of civilians, eventually overthrowing the planetary rulers and showing them the glory of the Greater Good.
But if he died, the entire mission died with him. Still, he had a chance. He wasn't alone. He was flanked by a Fire Warrior and a Kroot mercenary, both elite bodyguards. To blindly charge out into the corridors against unknown hostiles, however, would be a foolish, primitive human mistake. It was far too risky.
"That is enough, Ritus. Panic serves no purpose. We shall fight them. With the technology and the superior progress of the T'au Empire—"
Before Por'el could finish his sentence, the side wall of the room violently exploded inward. The blast knocked several gangers off their feet, showering the room in debris and confusion.
In the chaos, none of them noticed the small, cylindrical metal object that bounced across the floor.
CRACK!!!! Eeeeeeeeeeeee
A blinding flash of pure white light and a deafening shockwave completely overloaded their senses. Everyone in the room was instantly rendered deaf and temporarily blind, stumbling in pure disorientation.
In that critical window of sensory deprivation, the House Guard wielding the red boltgun stormed through the breach, closely followed by the rest of the assault team.
"In the name of the Emperor, I sentence you to die!" the guard roared, pulling the boltgun trigger.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!