Soldier, Slayer, King (DOOM/Warhammer) ch 7 preview (Patreon)

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​"Should we help him?" asked Iscariot, his trigger-finger itching to fire his weapon. 

The wagon shuddered as the Leman Russ erupted in a brilliant display of orange-red light, the cries of the traitors mixed with gunshots and even more explosions. Talia's lips went thin as she went back to sit on her side of the wagon. She gave Iscariot a knowing look. 

''Are you sure that our help would be needed even?" she asked dryly. A loud clang echoed as the Russ's turret landed on a squad of traitors. The civilians winced, imagining the sound of crushed bone and meat coming from the fallen turret.

Iscariot glanced down at his injury then back towards the bridge. He wisely decided to sit down, his lasrifle cradling his lap. "Nevermind then," he hummed, a tinge of disappointment in his voice. 

​Talia understood the man's want to help. They could still fight after all but in the face of the Slayer murdering everything corrupted, they were rather redundant in that. And besides, this was a chance for them to rest. 

Not a second later, silence descended on the battlefield as the Slayer finished whoever remained opposite of him. He returned to the wagon, armor red from the blood of the fallen traitors but no worse for wear. Talia stood up at attention to greet him but the Slayer did not reply and went back to hitch the wagon on himself. Talia yelped, landing on her rear to the amusement of the civilians. She smiled sheepishly, rubbing the underside of her chin.

The wagon passed by on the stony bridge and there, the Imperials saw the full extent of the Slayer's bloody work. There could only be one word for the sight before them and that was butchery. Bodies were paste on the floor, a rotting mesh of bone and blood. Others were cut violently, either in to or with their heads separated from their miserable shoulders. Many others were burnt or laying slumped against something or over sandbags. A thought went up to Talia as she glanced at the fallen armaments laying scattered on the floor. It would be a waste to let grenades, rifles, and other implements of war be left behind. 

"My Lord, Master Sergeant Iscariot and I are running low on certain supplies. Might we be allowed to re-supply from the traitors stock?" Talia made her request. There was a bit of a fine line when it came to using equipment of the enemy especially the ones fallen into traitor hands but usually, if the grenades starting whispering to you and the las-rifle pilfered had a screaming face attached to it then those weapons were to be burnt and destroyed immediately. The ones below them looked as pristine as the day they were made. 

​Different Astartes would have refused her request with reasons ranging from them not stopping for mere mortal guardsmen or to time constraints. Mercifully, the Slayer wasn't them and stopped mid-way. That was all that Talia needed to know of his intent and she leapt off the wagon, her eyes quick to spot the they would require. 

It was not hard to miss crates full of grenades or charged las-rifle batteries. Talia was a hoarder now, taking anything that she could carry. Such was her focus that she had even forgotten to ask the Slayer if there was a limit to how much she could pilfer not that the Slayer wanted her to stop. As far as he was concerned, she could take as much as she wanted as the added weight didn't really matter to him. Eventually, Talia had enough. The wagon was starting to creak from the added weight and she sheepishly glanced up towards the Slayer who looked ready to pull them on.

​Talia moved to climb up the wagon but then, something caught her eye. 

"Lieutenant?" Iscariot asked, dumbfounded. 

Talia's legs moved faster than she could register. Her destination were a bunch of tables covered by netting. On the tables were parchment. Large parchment. The Junior officer quickly recognized what they were. Maps. She bent over slightly to examine them and committed to memory everything that was written on it. It showed an entire picture of the region, a singular settlement crossed with red ink stood surrounded by black. That would be the reported Imperial holding on the planet, Talia surmised. The maps were a literal goldmine for the Imperium as they showed to her everything. Troop positions, what type of regiments there were, areas that were also still under Imperial control. That last fact surprised Talia as there still were plenty of areas still loyal to the Imperium.

Then her eyes ran towards another parchment, a notebook. She reached for it and picked it up. Talia flipped through the pages and her eyes threatened to explode out of its sockets. What was written inside were to the uninitiated random gibberish but to Talia, she quickly recognized them as codes most likely for the traitor PDF's network. 

She pocketed the notebook and pilfered the maps immediately. Her heels clicked as she ran back again towards the wagon. Iscariot's eyes landed on the papers snug under her arms. 

"Maps?" the Master Sergeant muttered. Talia grunted as she climbed aboard the wagon, settling on a free corner. 

"This has everything we would ever need to strike at the enemy. Positions, troop movements. If we ever have to go and strike out, we know where to hit them. Not only that, I got a codebook we can use. I reckon the PDF will catch on that we have access to their codes but until then, this will prove its weight in Thrones," the Lieutenant explained. 

​"Oh? Then what's our situation looking like?" Iscariot asked, swaying slightly as the Slayer took it a sign for him to return to being a temporary ox.

"We've managed to fortify one last town, Bastogne. Apparently, the traitors are finding it hard to conquer it. It's been fortified well, with only four bridges leading to the region and-" Talia halted in her explanation as something clicked. Paper ruffled as she opened the maps once again and glanced down at the bridges. Judging from where they were, they were at fourth bridge. 

The third bridge was not too far ahead and would have likely seen the firefight happening at their location. She also re-called seeing one of the charts in the command table showing dates and schedules. And the fourth bridge was expecting a round of reinforcements coming in from the North. 

And as if on cue, the traitor radio sets flickered to life. It was a rough sort of man that spoke, a voice not to similar to a gruff Colonel.

"Bridge 4-1, this is Bridge 4-3. We're seeing flashes at your area. Request status at location, over."

Then, a second radio flickered. The voice that spoke was disgusting and poxy, inter-sped with coughs and wheezing. Despite it, the speaker managed a unnaturally happy tone of voice. 

"Greetings, mortals. I am Brother Kaca. My happy band is nearing your location. Be prepared to receive us and the gifts we bring!"

Talia glanced up into the distance and sure enough, a dark green cloud was forming away, the faint buzzing of flies tickling her senses. 

"Frak," Talia whispered. 

"Lieutenant? What are we going to do?" asked the Master Sergeant. 

Naturally, the only response was to dig in and prepare. But that was possible only with a full regiment.

There were only so few of them.

The Slayer however had different ideas. He glanced first towards the west where the purported bridge lay and then to the North where his HUD was rapidly registering new contacts, each one more dangerous than the last. He glanced first towards the civilians then to Iscariot. The women were no fighters and the sergeant was someone that couldn't run. The only one fit to fight was Talia. 

​After much thought, he made up his mind. 

"You. Stay there. Hold." he spoke up, his voice breaking through the panic. Iscariot turned to where the Slayer was pointing, a fighting position facing west. In it was a single Heavy Bolter with plenty of ammunition. It was going to be a problem firing and loading it by himself but operating it wouldn't be an issue.

"Yes, my lord," Iscariot grunted, determination in his voice. He could feel tugging at his back. He turned to see that it was Matilda, her eyes pregnant with worry. 

"Sergeant?" she asked. He offered her a smile.

"You lot took me in and shielded me. It's my turn now," the Sergeant answered. The mature woman's lips quivered but finally, she nodded in understanding. 

"You must come back alive. We still need your protection, you know," she said with a smile. Flavia, the youngest, protested however. 

"I'll do my best, Madam," Iscariot nodded.

"But Sergeant...you'll die!" she protested.

"Good thing that I was born to die, eh?" Iscariot replied with a grin.

As the Sergeant and the civilians conversed, Talia turned towards the Slayer. 

"And what do you intend for me, my lord?" she asked, curious on what the Astartes had planned. 

"Take them. Run," the Slayer commanded, pointing towards the civilians. Talia's eyes widened in surprise. She had expected the Slayer to command her to man the guns much like Iscariot. But to run away...

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A/N: Oh dear.

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