[InquisitorM41]

Crouched behind a wall, holding his variation of the long-las, with an optical sight, Dietrich held his weapon close. Leaning over a-little to look past the edge of the wall, several pot-shots erupted around his head. Exploding chunks of the wall, with pieces hitting his black re-breather. Pulling his upper body back away from the edge, he turned to look at the other side of the wall. Dietrich was pinned, and he knew it. Hearing the rattle of heavy weapons, being wasted on his left side...Dietrich knew, either he ran for safety, or die here. Turning to his right, seeing the rest of his dead squad, all were which heavily armored and heavily armed, his own, black armor flak suit.

Seeing movement towards the right edge, and then green, Dietrich raised his rifle so fast, that he himself nearly lost it. When the large Ork came into view, the trigger, being crushed by his finger, releasing loads of las fire into the orks head and chest. The first hit, took a chunk of the orks head off. The second and third tore off a large chunk of its neck and part of its upper arm. The rest tore a hole in the orks stomach. Falling to its knees sluggishly, black ichor oozed and gores falling out from its open wounds. Dietrich looked around and spoke into his vox seat.

'Sector 3 under heavy attack...requesting assistance....Is anyone hearing this?!?' Letting just static answer back...but...he could hear a soft noise, but to him it was faint. It kept repeating 'Duck...duck...duck...', so he did just that. A few seconds later, all that filled his head were the loud noises of screaming rockets, speeding over the wall and the building. The last thing he heard was several loud crashes and explosions from krak missile launchers.

Raising his head, shuffling on the hard concrete ground, inching towards the edge, all he could see was ruin and black blood of what had to be orks. Looking down the street, he saw several heavy armored jeeps rush his way. Standing and rushing out into the street, the jeep screeched to a halt. A man walked out. Oh ****...a commissar...Looking at the Commissar and saluting like a Kasrkin should, the Commissar saluted back. Looking back and fourth from the ally-way to Dietrich, the Commissar shook his head and un-holstered his issued las-pistol. Aiming towards Dietrich’s head, and taking a shot, not a move or even flinch. But behind him, an Ork fell to its knees from the clean headshot.

'I am Commissar Fulker...' The commissar shrugged at him, thinking slowly. Holstering his pistol, and turning, the clatter heavy las fire coming from the commissars’ jeep. The man gunning the turret was aiming off into a three story building in another intersection. Dietrich could hear a faint squeal and then the distinct, loud crackling sound of a rifle.

But it was no rifle. The screaming kicked in and the zooming sound of a rocket kicked in. Headed straight for a perfect kill, the rocket hit the jeeps wind-shield.

The three men inside the jeep were killed instantly. Dietrich and the Commissar fell to the ground and stayed there, keeping low, trying to hind their bodies as bet they can, so as not to get hit by any shrapnel or singing hot metal.

A tire, still on fire, rolled between the two. Watching the tire, and then looking at each other and then the shmelting, ruin of what used to be a jeep, the two got two their feet.

A small group of gretchin rushed to the jeep, searching for anything that could be used or salvaged. But secondary explosions erupted from the jeep. Either it was the engine or the extra ammo, it did not matter. The groups of Gretchin were blown away from the jeep. Either killed by the explosion or hitting the ground and walls with a loud splat. Dietrich and the Commissar were both on the ground again, this time, staying an extra bit of time there. Crawling a little forward, Dietrich was more worried what was up on the buildings. But the commissar was more worried about having a Guardsman run away, leaving him there to die.







Stopping, Dietrich knelt down slowly by the street’s corner. The intersection may have ended, but, death is beyond every corner of this hell hole.

‘Commissar Fulker, I am Sergeant Major Dietrich, 3rd platoon, 5th company, 2nd Kasrkin battalion, Veteran platoon mainly. But by the looks of it, you seem right out of the Schola.’ Dietrich to a chance saying that, the man nearly killed him once before, but insulting him would get him killed…if you honestly took it as an insult.

‘Very good sergeant…just one thing I have to ask you. What is beyond that corner?’ Commissar Fulker asked, but to tell the truth, Dietrich didn’t want to know, nor did he care. But he did know he has to go beyond that corner and destroy it. Taking a small look, he turned back and looked at the commissar.

‘Well sir…if you want me not to say it’s an Ork buggy with a krak missile launcher and a heavy bolter…then I’ll say it’s just a ghost.’ Dietrich said calmly, as if he has had worse…in which he has had worse than this. Raising his long-las, and laying down, he slipped himself to the side, very slowly. Having done this before, he knew what to do. Aiming his weapon for the Ork, holding the bolted down krak launcher, he sighed softly, his breathing heavy. Dietrich could see the large augmetic right eye. The bright red glow, made Dietrich shiver abit. Slowly pulling the trigger, he let go as a large Ork, with huge tusks got in his way. A better target and a better thing to kill.

The commissar just stood their, leaning against the wall, watching the sergeant curiously. The commissar un-holstered his weapon slowly and held it, ready for anything. Dietrich was steadying his rifle, he took the perfect headshot. The orks head exploded from its shoulders. The body of the Ork moved several steps backwards, before slumping, and falling to the ground. Black ichor slowly oozing from its dead body. The Ork manning the Krak launcher looked around, freaking out, firing the thing at a random building.

Dietrich fired at that Ork, the krak shot, messing his aiming, but hitting the Orks head none the less. The right augmentation gone, as well as half its head. The third and final Ork finally spotted Dietrich, screaming its annoying warcry of ‘WAAAGH!’ The commissar, being the ass he is, sidesteps into view, revving his chainsword and slashing at the Orks unarmored stomach.

The Ork tried to dodge the attack, but was met by a fist, ramming into its ugly green face by a large Kasrkin holding his hellgun. The Commissar finished the job by slashing at the Orks stomach and hacking a large hole, where the black ichor slowly oozed out. Dietrich slowly got to his feet and looked to the man. His re-breather still on, and his ceramite black armour, still in perfect condition.

‘Sergeant Welsch…was wondering when you would find my position…’ Dietrich spoke, as he lifted to his feet. The third Ork knew when he had no chance, so he started to make a run for it. But when he crossed a “T” in the road, he was shot to hell. More Kasrkin units started to make there way into view. And slowly making their way to them.

‘I told you I would be saving your ass Sergeant Major...plus…there was a Xenos problem we had…only 7 of us made it out of that frakking slaughter house…’ Welsch spoke with hatred when he talked of the ambush the orks laid out for them. The commissar heard all of this, and was just nodding his head, only caring about killing something, while he had protection near him.

The commissar then spoke out. ‘Ok…now that there are…7...8…9 of us…we need to get out of this hell. And if I am right, we are smack dab, in the middle of this city, and we need to go west towards the waterfront…’ The Commissar seemed more optimistic about heading towards the water, when Dietrich knew of a safe underground passage to the mountains.