A cracking voice replied in his ear, Brennan’s face frowning in concentration as he ran the final yards. The Orks were nearly on him, he could imagine their breath upon his skin. They had given up shooting, their blood was up, and he knew they would tear him apart if they caught him. His eyes glanced ahead into the looming building opposite, noticing the glints in the windows and shadows. Spurred on, he rounded up a flight of stairs, leaping through a gaping hole in the ruined wall, his body flailing as it flew through open air.
“Gotcha!” A gruff voice grunted, as Brennan’s wrists were grabbed by two scarred hands. Scrabbling his feet against the wall for purchase, he scrambled through the window of the building. Looking up, he found himself staring into a gnarled face, tattoos covering one cheek, and scars the other.
“Just in time Sergeant,” Brennan grinned. “They’ll be arriving any moment now.”
Replying with a grunt, his Sergeant turned to the men crouched by windows and in doorways.
“Weapons free boys.”
Leaning his rifle against the windowsill, Brennan readied himself. A mighty cry came from across the street as the Orks burst out of the building, charging headlong towards the entrenched position.
“Bring them down!” Bellowed the Sergeant, his voice sending thin contrails of dust eddying around the ruins. As one, the Imperial Guardsmen stood and fired, the bark of their rifles cutting into the rampaging Xenos, burning flesh and shattering bone. Brennan’s rifle joined the cacophony, its reverberating crack punctuating the well drilled lasgun fire. To his left thundered the soldier’s Heavy Stubber, hurling solid slugs into the beasts with enough force to bring them to their knees. Ducking and diving into cover, all the while trying to get close enough to tear the Guardsmen apart, the Orks’ brutal weapons coughed fire in return, most of their rounds slamming into the masonry, but a few found their mark, two guardsmen falling backwards with gaping wounds in their bodies. A sudden movement caught Brennan’s eye, and he swung his rifle to the right.
His eyes grew wide in horror.
“Krarking Emperor!” He cried over the battle, trying to get the attention of his squadmates. “On the right, contacts! Multiple hostiles inbound!”
His voice echoed as the final shots rang out, signalling the death of the final Ork below. The Guardsmen’s face hardened as the silence after the battle was filled with a low rumbling sound coming through the streets.
“WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!”
************
Guardsman Allen heaved himself upright, wincing as the pain in his ankle lanced up his leg.
“Move it soldier!” Cried the Sergeant, pulling the limping man to his feet. “We haven’t got all day!”
Allen spat as he ran, shifting the weight of the heavy stubber, trying to balance himself. Out of the corner of his eye he could see his loader, Stephan, struggling to run under the weight of his equipment.
“Keep it up Stephan!” He roared, “They aren’t slowing down.”
Brennan’s voice crackled through the soldier’s headsets, cutting through the hubbub as the squad ducked through the maze of backstreets.
“Keep moving, keep moving. We have less than three minutes to contact. Frag traps in Sector 29 – C detonated, that kept the krarking slugs down for a bit, but they’ve redoubled their pace. Move it!”
The last words came out as a shout, before Brennan cut his communicator. Risking a glance through his scope, he watched the horde tearing through the rubble. Dozens of Orks were converging on their position, smashing through walls and windows, vaulting wrecked tanks and corpses. They were unstoppable. Brennan swung his view around, looking for the Sergeant. He stood at the head of the column, exhorting his troops onwards. Brennan gritted his teeth; it was going to be close. If he hadn’t seen the Orks, they’d already be dead. As it stood, they had little chance, but if they could reach their last strongpoint then at least there’d be a fight. He stood, leaping down from the ruined cornice that had been his vantage point, and began to jump and sprint over the wrecked rooftops in an effort to catch his squad.
******
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