Memory and Fate

Chapter 6: The Defense of Grey Pass Part 1

"We Astartes were created to be the defenders of Man. Ironic that we should be so far removed from him then." -Anonymous

Space Marines as a rule of thumb are rapid deploying elite infantry designed to quickly saturate an area and eradicate all opposition. To see them go on the defensive is usually a grave omen. However, as Guilliman wrote the Codex Astartes, he understood that tactics must fit the situation at hand. The network of earthen fortifications, trenches and pre-planned kill zones in front of the city can attest to this mindset. Judah ponders on this as his Captain oversees the construction.

Thunderfire cannons operated by Techmarines of the Chapter are administered their activation rites and experimentally spooled up in preparation. Whirlwinds of both modern pattern and the revered Deimos Scorpius are angled and entrenched. Stalker and Hunter anti-air batteries train their guns and launch tubes skywards. Predators turn the barrels of their weaponry toward the distant forest and preceding floodplain. Tarantula Sentry Turrets and their missile-bearing counterparts guard spots and emplacements with their unblinking eyes. The Champion looks back towards the city proper and gazes upon a middling crowd of citizens and militia watching with muted awe.

Judah looks down to the fortifications to their chosen field of battle. A shallow slope steadily rising towards the city from the valley near the body of a slow-moving river presents a clear view from atop the rise. The telltale disturbances of mines both local and Astartes make pockmark the freshly churned soil. A large and imposing tree line off in the far distance marks the border between the relative bastion of civilization and the beginning of the true wilds. As well as the maximum range of the city's artillery.

"Quite an advantageous position to occupy versus a horde." Solomon joins the Champion in his contemplations. "It seems the people of this world truly know the value of sturdy defenses."

"You did not come here to compose a treatise on fortifications, what truly brings you here?"

The psyker sighs. "They will be due to arrive shortly before first contact, in just under a day. I know I impose a great deal for inquiring about…"

"Then do not"

…

"He does not blame you. He never has."

Judah whips his armored head around to stare deep into the icy blue eyes of the Epistolary. A fleeting image passes with horrifying clarity through Judah's mind. A bloated, corpulent mass of what was once an honor-bound Astartes. A youngblood full of vigor and hate striking true only to blanch as the Plague Sorcerer contorts and swells. The hauntingly familiar ethereal laughter of his most hated foe worming its way through his augmented ears as an armored hand throws him from the corrosive bile. It does not fully succeed. Pathis Rot-Lord takes one last victim.

The Champion simply stares at his ostensible companion before slowly turning to walk away.

"I killed him as sure as if I had put a bolt into his skull. And nothing will wash off that shame until that fetid Warpspawn is banished forever."

Solomon sighs as Judah walks off to another part of the soon to be battlefield. The Librarian walks off back towards the large gates that lead into the city. He notes with some measure of surprise how well the wall is constructed. The large main gate is held shut by hydraulics and physical locking systems. Engraved with the image of men battling against the Grimm and nature itself and made of a very familiar alloy composed of hardened metal and Dust. It reminds him of a visit to one of the Chapter citadels on Levantus. Solomon knows who the footsteps behind him belong to.

"His sense of honor has become tangled into a destructive cycle of self-loathing, Immanuel."

The Captain pauses beside Solomon as they gaze out over their brothers. "It would be what…a century now?"

"One hundred and two years to be exact."

A pall of silence blankets the two for a moment. "The city's inhabitants tell me several of the vaunted "Hunters" will arrive soon to intercede. They utilize the Aura much like the young Orion, correct?"

Solomon nods his head. "Such strange abilities…I do not disagree with your battleplan, but I think any help would be appreciated, especially from those trained to specifically combat these Grimm."

"I wonder what these warriors could be like?"

-x-

Nora looked on sheepishly as the rest of the Hunters wake (or drags) themselves up.

"Do I really snore that loud?"

"How do you even sleep at night?" Weiss asks, half-incredulously, half annoyedly.

"Ear plugs, usually." Ren deadpans.

The interior of the Bullhead was cramped to say the least. Designed for speed and fuel efficiency, it sacrificed the carrying capacity larger craft had. However, comfort was the last thing on the passenger's minds as they sped through the early morning air. Eyes still dragged down by the enticing allure of sleep were propped up with the virtual racing fuel Dr. Oobleck had provided them with. Ruby Rose yawned as she took in her friends arrayed throughout the passenger cabin. Unusually for both team RWBY and JNPR, most of the light-hearted banter and cheer that wound through the two teams was missing, patently obvious to anyone even remotely familiar with the students. Ren and Nora were also acting quite a bit more sullen than usual.

Ruby frowned to herself, she knew why. The end of the Breach was supposed to wrap up all nice and smoothly in their minds. All the Grimm were either dead or driven out, everything was fine. The next few days of urgent reports and headline news proved otherwise. Short lived yet vicious Grimm incursions rode the waves of panic the Breach had left, but that was not the kernel of knowledge occupying everyone's mind. Something far worse had happened almost simultaneously with the Breach, it had only taken longer for the news to filter in. The Green River was drowning in a tide of Grimm seen in numbers that set some records.

Hundreds had been dying while she and her friends were celebrating a job well done.

Headmaster Ozpin had called an emergency meeting with many of the more progressed teams. Many of the licensed Hunters and senior students were already out on missions, and redeploying to the Frontier could take days those caught in the path of the Grimm simply didn't have. Ruby had never seen the Headmaster so serious before, stressing the dangers involved were beyond what he was normally comfortable allotting to the first and second years. Most surprisingly, the option was given to teams to recuse themselves if they personally felt unable or unwilling to go into such a dangerous situation.

No one had taken him up on that.

"Hey Rubes, you okay?" a voice drowsily inquired.

The young team leader looked over to Yang, reclining next to her.

"Yeah Yang…I'm just thinking about stuff is all."

"Like what the Frontier is going to be like?"

"Pretty much."

The golden-haired huntress gave her younger sister an assuring grin and some thumbs up. "Don't worry, we all have each other to rely on. I know we'll kick some serious butt and save the day like usual."

The last part of her miniature declaration was said semi-seriously and achieved her goal of getting Ruby to chuckle. Looking over to her teammates, she took in their current conditions. Blake was doing better than most, alert and conversing with the others even though she had subtle bags under her eyes. It made her uncomfortable when she remembered the last time Blake had those. Weiss was perhaps the worst out of all of them, barely awake and clearly not in the mood to be bothered. The rest of the team gave her a wide berth every morning until she could make herself look 'proper'.

JNPR was basically in the same boat. Jaune was struggling a bit while Pyrrha was fresh and alert. Ren was okay while Nora alternated between caffeinated frenzy and a sugar crash caused by an ill-advised serving of pancakes. All in all, the teams were mostly prepared in the physical sense. Whether they were prepared in the mental one, Ruby thought, well…

"Alright everyone." The pilot radioed through on the intercom. "We're approaching the outskirts of Grey Pass very soon, so rouse yourselves as best as you can."

The two teams spent the next few minutes standing and stretching out muscles sore from sleeping upright most of the way. Alongside rubbing out their eyes and a few exchanged words as well.

"Alright everyone!" Ruby clapped, beginning in a suitably determined voice, getting herself ready. "We'll be touching down soon. Apparently, Grey Pass is run by a Mayor we need to meet with first, until then try to wake yourselves up-."

The intercom crackled to life, interrupting Ruby's speech.

"Uhhh…I don't mean to interrupt you guys but I'm seeing some…" The pilot trailed off to seemingly try to find his words. "Unusual activity yeah let's go with that, near the city."

At that moment, a loud roar cut across the sky and over the comparatively meagre whine of the Bullhead's twin engines. Racing back to the windows, the teams witnessed a massive jet engine propelled craft streak by. Black and silver seemed to make up its coloration, but any further analysis was curtailed by its blinding speed.

"Grey Pass is hailing us and telling me where to put down…also as an addendum, and I quote 'try not to freak out'.

-x-

Taking in the vista of the Frontier City, the two teams disembarked from the Bullhead with the young reaper at the fore. Nearby at the edge of the landing pad was a man who in Ruby's opinion looked like he needed a serious power-nap. He had the look of the stereotypical overworked clerk, complete with glasses and a receding hairline. The man walked over to the group and began his introduction.

"Hello, you must be the teams Beacon sent? I'm Wilfred, the Mayor's secretary."

Ruby shook Wilfred's outstretched hand before looking back over the city. "It's great to meet you, but sorry if this sounds demanding, what the heck is going on here, where is everybody?"

The streets below the pad were indeed quite devoid of people, the only sign of life far away and towards the gate.

"Ah, yes…" Wilfred pauses. "We have received some aid from people calling themselves Astartes, or Space Marines. They showed up a day or so ago. They say they're…" The clerk sighs and trails off. "Follow me, if you don't see for yourself, you won't believe me." Wilfred spins on his heel and begins to head for the gate far in the distance.

"Uhm…okay?" Yang chimed up. "I guess we…follow him?

The teams slowly pick up the pace as they follow Wilfred into the heart of the city. Where they expected to find people, only empty streets rose up to greet them. But the place was not lifeless, in the distance the Hunters could see a large crowd gathered. From out of the mass of people, a figure emerged to meet the group halfway.

"May I introduce Laura Cooper, our Mayor."

The youthful woman seemed just as tired as the two teams. Her hair is frayed and split in many places. Her color is slightly pallid, hid by some creative applications of makeup. She sighs and stretches as the Hunters stare at her.

"Welcome to Grey Pass. I assume you people have your own orders to listen to me?" A round of successive affirmations draws a sigh of relief from the beleaguered official. "First off, we need to discuss some issues beforehand. Have any of you heard any reports or rumors, hell even tabloids about strange things happening around the Frontier?"

"Wait…you mean those videos that journalist Amarillo said were proof positive of secret Atlas Mech Kill-Teams?" Blake asked as she remembered something on the cusp of her mind. The others all seemed to remember, some pulling out their Scrolls.

Roger Amarillo was a field reporter for one of the most famous (or infamous) papers in the entire Kingdom. A self-described patriot and truth-seeker, his reports were the subject of fierce controversy. His reports were often critical of foreign political and economic involvement in Vale's affairs. But he had also uncovered wrongdoings by corrupt officials and corporate entities several times. He had to lay low recently after an exposé on a branch of the SDC had revealed a pattern of gratuitous workplace safety violations. Being sent to the Frontier was supposedly a place to wait out the heat, but it seems the scoop of the century (at least as he called it in his more recent dispatches) dropped into his lap. Grainy footage of armored figures and strange vehicles had littered the video sites and message boards of the internet for days. Laura shook her head in amusement.

"Yep, dear old Roger did always manage to poke his nose into everything since he got here. Too bad the connections' so trashy out here." The Mayor paused before seeming to gather herself. "Okay I've been stalling you guys long enough. Long story short: it is not Atlas. These guys are probably going to make every headline around the world for the next few months once this is over. Just be prepared and follow me…"

As she trails off, a commotion makes itself known at the gate near the forefront of the crowd.

-x-

An Astartes can process information that would take mortals minutes within only a few heartbeats.

The first thing Solomon notices about these Hunters is the lack of uniformity. He and Immanuel, along with an escort of two brothers march through the large gate. Their outfits are entirely different from one another's. There is nothing to suggest they belong to the same unit. No distinct markings. Only personal symbols emblazoned and embossed on varying pieces of gear. Yet Solomon surmises that it is not his place to judge. They and those like them are a bulwark against the clawing hordes of ravenous Grimm for perhaps millennia. A tacit amount of respect is due. Yet it is painfully obvious that they are neophytes when compared to the data on Hunters they have.

At the fore of the first unit is a surprisingly young girl, younger than any here. Her hair is cut short and blends from black into bright red. Her outfit is nearly the same shade of black of the Herald's armor. She is speechless, but from the way her eyes roam over the various members of the entourage, it is clear she is trying to restrain herself. And yet it's her eyes that makes her stand out the most. They shine like twin pools of silver mirroring the script etched into their war plate or the baubles hanging from his neck. There is something etheric that seems to draw his senses. She feels somehow…different, but in what way the Epistolary is unsure of. It is a muted sensation.

Next to the young girl is a figure garbed in white, mirroring her snow-white hair. She gazes at the Marines with a carefully restrained outlook. Solomon surmises she has practice disguising her emotions. The tall blond practically ogles the group, turning to whisper something into the final member of her unit. Solomon notes with some surprise that her eyes are the same noble purple as those of the Cadians. Something to investigate later. The one garbed in black simply stares with slight surprise evident in her yellow eyes. She is perhaps the most interesting. Because she is clearly a Faunus. Very little can escape the perception of an Astartes. Why she would hide her heritage is irrelevant to the Librarian.

The second unit's members appear interesting to say the least. A blonde-haired boy gazes with undisguised awe and a bit of awkward worry mixed in. Solomon notes that his posture is indicative of a relative novice. The red-haired girl seems to be his total opposite, steady and collected while having a countenance much more like a warrior. It was probable that she was the leader of the unit in retrospect. The last two were a strange pair. The one in green was superbly measured and seemed very level-headed, and another interesting shade of eye-color. By contrast his garishly dressed partner was shaking with unabashed, nearly childish excitement. For some reason she was fixated on the Captain's Thunder Hammer. He was intrigued to see how they would fare with their transforming weapons.

All of this took only heartbeats as his eyes ran over them.

-x-

It was difficult to describe the exact feelings currently coursing around Ruby's brain at that moment. The foremost feeling was a sense of pronounced disbelief at the sheer fact of their size contrasted with their movement. All four giants moved in their gear with inhuman grace. There was no clumsiness or lumbering slowness, it was as if both armor and wearer were fused into one. Then there was the armor. Each set looked like a master crafted work of art, fit for giant warrior-demigods told of in myths long past. Covered in symbology and adornments written in a language and conveying a meaning she both did not understand and felt in her heart. They wielded oversized weapons that held a dual nature of primitive and advanced, alongside beautifully crafted blades.

The only one not hidden behind the imposing helmets with their diagonal slits was clearly of some rank. His face was the next thing that caught Ruby's attention. He had the face of a kindly bookkeeper in some regards, only enlarged to a gargantuan yet heroic degree. For a transient moment, the two locked eyes and Ruby could swear she felt something buzz within her very mind and soul. As they came to a halt before the gathered Hunters, Ruby suddenly felt very small. However, the emotional and visual overload of seeing such beings anywhere outside of fantasy proved to override her sense of tact and social etiquette. Still dealing with social awkwardness, her mouth runs away from her from time to time. She blurts out the first thing that comes to mind in front of everybody.

"How does that armor work!?"

The first 'official' meeting between Hunters and the Astartes of the Ashen Heralds had begun.

-x-

The fortifications on the ramparts of the wall were bustling with activity. Runners were carrying crates of supplies and munitions to and from the many emplacements studded along its length. militia were calibrating weapons, charging batteries, and double-checking pre-sighted artillery coordinates. Yet in the middle of this spectacle was one man severely out of place. Roger Amarillo had found the perfect location, a wide enough view of the battlefield without compromising the defenses, or his own safety for that matter. Mounted on sturdy tripods were two semi-autonomous cameras that tracked the history being made before his eyes. Dressed in his signature vest, wide-brimmed hat and dark sunglasses, the investigative reporter gleefully pulled out a smaller camera.

"This is Roger Amarillo of the Vale Chronicle reporting from atop the walls of Grey Pass. By the time you see this extraordinary footage, the ensuing battle will have been long over. As indicated in my previous reports that I can only hope have reached the interior, the situation is dire for the residents of this storied Frontier settlement. I stayed as close to the onslaught of Grimm as safety and common sense would let me and witnessed the horror and suffering they inflicted."

Turning to look at the fields below, Roger started again. "The men, no the supermen you see below you are perhaps the only reason many thousands more have not perished. I personally witnessed these 'Astartes' as they call themselves rescue whole villages overnight. Sadly, my better cameras are not conducive to portability, so forgive me for such poor-quality work."

Gesturing broadly across the numerous Space Marines at work, "They claim to represent an 'Imperium' that spans the stars themselves. Ladies and gentlemen, if what they do say is true, then what happens next could change the very course of our history. Hunters from Beacon have already arrived to reinforce the stalwart defenders. The only thing everyone seems to have on their mind is to prepare for the Grimm swarming towards the city."

-x-

A mobile field command center is not meant for non-Astartes personnel. The seat benches and height of the many little things were always intended for posthuman warriors in full plate. The size discrepancy makes the youngbloods sitting on them seem comically out-of-place. Four Huntresses consisting of Team RWBY. And four others from team JNPR. It was the second thing Immanuel noticed after the expected introductions. You do not pronounce a Hunter team phonetically, but by the representation they chose instead. The first was the wildly non-standard getup each wore.

The two forces have greeted each other with as much tact and esteem as different cultures will allow. They have exchanged obligatory introductions and lapsed into uncomfortable silence for the next minute and a half or so. Sitting two apiece in the oversized thrones around the command table were some familiar and some new faces. The settlement's primary leader and her council waited patiently and nervously to the side, perhaps not yet entirely used to the Astartes but certainly trying. The Hunters seem much the same as them upon their first meeting. A mixture of transhuman dread, awe, and unbound curiosity to some degree. To see humans unaware of what they were or represented was certainly a rarity in the galaxy at large.

His fellow brothers too had a bit of curiosity to them as well. Uriah was busy, if the whirring of his lenses could be believed, looking over the wildly personalized and intricate weaponry each Hunter carried. The shifting designs seemed to catch Uriah's imagination. Solomon scanned their faces with a soft smile, yet Immanuel knew his interest in the peculiar psychic activity of the planet meant his vision was cutting far deeper than usual. The others seemed mildly intrigued, though Judah seemed not to care in the least, standing off to the side of the Captain. Feeling the minute's pause was enough, Immanuel began the briefing.

"As discussed briefly before, I am Immanuel, Captain of the 4th Company of the Ashen Heralds. The plan I have devised makes extensive use of the terrain to blunt the advantages of the horde."

Pressing a button, the hololithic display hums to life, intriguing many of the human observers. The map shifted to reveal the slope and the plains in front of the city.

"The high ground provided by the slope will allow us a good field of fire on the horde. Furthermore, the Gap as you call it provides a singular approach that aids in concentrating the Grimm for our weapons to do maximum damage. As for our forces, they are divided into three defensive line which can then collapse back into…"

Immanuel started to go into depth about the intricacies of the grand battleplan. It involved defense in depth strategies, coordinated airstrikes, designated crossfire zones and dozens of other meticulous plans with well-prepared contingencies. At least half of his explanation seemed to elicit confusion in the humans, although most seemed to get the gist of the main points.

"…Much of this is meant for Astartes to follow, however you Hunters are capable warriors in your own right. Do you have any suggestions about where you might fit best in this plan?"

Immediately afterward, the Hunters began to whisper among themselves. He could hear every word they said but chose not to out of respect. Although by their tone, Immanuel could tell they were somewhat out of their depth. Though the red one seemed surprisingly cogent given her relative youth. Eventually, they seemed to reach a consensus after a few minutes of deliberation. The red one spoke up.

"We would probably be better in the middle line nearer to the front though, if what you're saying about the fighting at the front line will be like. We could help contain any breakouts and could pick off packs more easily when they get spread out."

Immanuel quirked an eyebrow up. "I see you have carefully considered this, and I approve as well. There are sections in that line that could use good specialists."

Solomon chose to speak then.

"If I might suggest? If they are to work with our brothers, a deal of…fraternization is necessary."

-x-

Lucas milled about the rear portion of the middle line, watching the two teams just flown in from Beacon. He wasn't going to delude himself, he hated them, and he envied them. His weapon had been cobbled together from one off a corpse and spare parts rather than made at a school. His training came from what little Zaff knew and the few manuals and videos he had access to. Only briefly introducing himself, Lucas decided to see what they were made of before making any friends. The young archer observed the groups tentatively meet on either side of the line with Sergeants, if he remembered the rank properly. Only once he'd seen them fight would he know what they were like.

He wouldn't have to wait long.

-x-

"Your weapons! How do they work!? What do they shoot!?"

Ruby had almost turned as red as her cloak when she had inadvertently blurted out the first thing that came to mind upon meeting the giant men. But now she had all the excuses to inquire about the amazing and new implements they all wielded. RWBY was on the right side of the middle line with JNPR being sent off to the left. The young Huntress's query was being directed at a thoroughly unready Philetus. The Assault Sergeant Olus had greeted them as cordially as a seven and a half foot tall superhuman could and introduced his squad's members. It seemed that being the newest and youngest also meant dealing with pesky natives. The bombardment of questions was something that his training certainly didn't prepare him for, though he did make a good effort of it.

"This is our standard template, in Assault Squads at least. The Mark XI Hell's Teeth Pattern Chainsword. Others in my squad have been modified to a certain extent or are differing patterns entirely and will not share properties with standard designs. Most chainsword models uses a line of mono-molecularly sharpened blades on a belt. The motor speed is controlled by this trigger and these adjustment knobs. A favored and widely-used weapon throughout the Imperium in many forms." Yang perked up at that last part.

"You're saying a chainsaw-sword is a common weapon where you guys come from?"

"Yes."

"…Awesome."

Weiss was speaking with Lysippus with a much more civilized air.

"So, you really are from outer space?"

"Yes, Miss Schnee."

"And this Imperium you fight for, how many people live in it?"

"The Imperium is the empire of a million worlds. Countless trillions of humans live under its authority throughout the galaxy."

"…did you say trillions?"

Philetus was now showing the properties of his Bolt Pistol to the two siblings.

"This pistol and the larger varieties also operate on the same principle after the initial discharge. Once the bolt leaves the barrel it will ignite three rocket boosters that spin and stabilize the projectile mid-flight. It will continue on until it reaches its intended target whereupon the mass-reactive warhead will impact and either penetrate and detonate or simply detonate depending on the target."

"You have whole worlds turned into cities and factories!?" Weiss exclaimed.

Philetus pointed at to his armor

"Our plate is cybernetically connected through these receptors implanted in the Black Carapace. It allows us to move in it much more naturally than we could otherwise. The armor itself is composed of shaped Adamantium and Plasteel encased within an ablative covering of Ceramite.

Ruby had one of her serious looks plastered on her face as she absorbed the new information. Fingers steepled, she professionally replied.

"Your most basic guns shoot gyrostabilized miniature rockets with the aim to penetrate and detonate inside targets. You use chainsaws as swords. Your armor weighs several hundred pounds and you move around in it like it weighs nothing"

Her composure broke.

"I want one of everything!"

"How can anyone manage such a bureaucratic nightmare!?" Weiss shouted, totally aghast.

It went on like this for some time.

Philetus almost wished he had been chosen as a Techmarine by the end.

Blake, by contrast, was much less sociable with the armored superhumans striding about the fieldworks. It was not to say that they did not intrigue her, or that they were not sociable with her. However there seemed to be an odd air when they made their attempts at small talk, which boiled down to mostly saying 'hello'. The one with the skull-helmet was perhaps the strangest, catching him staring for a few moments. She couldn't pin down exactly what it was that felt off, but living the life she had, getting a read on emotions was a vital tool for survival. Perhaps she was simply being paranoid around the newcomers. Looking on over the black-clad warriors, Blake peered across the field to see JNPR engaged in a conversation of their own.

-x-

"That hammer was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen! It was just so-GYUAAAH!" Nora squealed for the dozenth time.

Jaune was handling the whole 'we are not alone' situation about the same as his other teammates. While this Lysippus and his Stoneskin Squad were certainly polite, he got the feeling that having to deal with them was something they certainly preferred not doing. But they seemed to be following the fraternization order given by their superior as well as they could. It started off a bit awkwardly when they mistook Pyrrha as their team leader.

That stung a bit.

Nora was her usual bouncy self, which Jaune hoped simply confused the Space Marines rather than annoyed them. Though their chuckles when Nora promised with all her might to get them some pancakes after learning what they normally ate boded well in his opinion. However, the team leader remembered something odd from the briefing.

"Uhh, excuse me, Mr. Lysippus?" The Sergeant turned to face Jaune. "Who was that guy with the sword and shield, he never introduced himself."

The Marine in question was currently near the command post, but mostly alone. Sword and shield in hand, he ran through several combat drills against an invisible enemy. Jaune was certain only a veteran Hunter could even hope to match the kind of speed the swordsman was displaying so casually. It honestly made Jaune a bit self-conscious.

"That is Judah, our Company Champion. Greatest swordsman out of a hundred Battle Brothers."

Jaune assumed to excel in their ranks to be a big deal. "Do you think he could give me some pointers?" Jaune said it half-jokingly to start some small talk but could tell by the awkward silence that he may have said something wrong.

"I would highly advise you not joke with him of tutelage."

At that moment, the telltale roar of two of their Thunderhawks broke through the bustle on the ground.

"Especially not now."

Jaune's confused expression and half-formed response was forgotten as the Space Marines suddenly bolted into action. Like a well-oiled machine they sprung into their fieldworks and behind barricades. Tactical Squads lined up on the front while Assault Squads readied themselves to engage at close range. Devastator Squads aimed their massive weapons down towards the distant tree line. Vehicles powered up in great geysers of blackened exhaust. Within minutes the entire defensive array was bristling and ready. The large gates of the city at their backs closed as the militia rushed back inside. On the walls, Jaune could see the large artillery pieces being maneuvered into position.

Jaune was perhaps a bit inexperienced, but he was not an idiot. He knew what this meant.

The Thunderhawks touched down.

A piercing shriek cut through the air.

The ramps opened.

-x-

Eyes tinged a bloody red swept over the rapidly onrushing landscape. Eyesight perfect for spotting fleeing prey narrows in on the large mass of activity near the human settlement. Grimm are not sentient as a rule; clever tactics and the barest sense of intelligence are reserved for their more ancient compatriots. However even a simple Nevermore can feel even a muted emotion of confusion. The feeling is different, distorted, wrong. The giants that slaughtered dozens of its flock. The giants that denied it prey time after time. But now they had nowhere to run. The horde was at its back, and nothing could stop its advance.

The Giant Nevermore leading the advance flock was abruptly pulled away from its scouting to a curious sight below. Two giant bipedal things stride forth from their previously airborne transports. They seem almost ungainly to the untrained eye. But move with a sheer purpose that defies expectations and common sense. It is at that moment the large flock screening the pack on the ground begins a screaming power dive down at the entrenched positions. The guns open fire as soon as they enter optimum range.

Cannon shells and anti-air missiles rip into the formation, tearing massive holes through the inky black fliers. This is to be expected, swarm tactics are the Grimm's only hope and best option of overwhelming the scant hundred defenders. But they defy their primitive expectations. More fall than is expected. No shell, bolt, missile, or beam is misplaced or fired without care. A blazing orchestra of death sings through the air at both the hordes in the sky and the air. Yet the sheer weight of numbers seems to punch through the curtain of fire. Many of its brethren began to ready a barrage of razor-sharp feathers when one of the previously silent Giant machines strides forth. It stops dead in the center of the line. It raises its arms skywards.

The last thing the Giant Nevermore sees is a volcano of fire surge forth.

-x-

Jairus was once like the rest of his brothers in the 4th Company. But his proficiency as a Devastator Marine became widely known even outside of his Company. The Orks of Markard had fallen by the hundreds to his expert use of collapsing terrain. The routing of a demon incursion on Herios when his gun destroyed the blasphemous artifact holding the portal open. Eldar Grav-Tanks fell one after another when Hive Ariq came under siege when Jairus, cut off from his squad, had ducked about for six hours raining death down on the enemy. When he ran out of rockets he used improvised explosives composed of mines and Krak Grenades. That earned him the rank of Sergeant, though it cost him a leg. As he rose in renown, his brethren earned more glory in a single century than any Devastator Squad in Company History. His death had piled a legion of Traitor Marine dead at his feet and allowed the rest of his Chapter to crush the warband.

Though his body was broken Jairus, his his mind firmly intact, poured an unending torrent of fire from his twin Kheres Assault Cannons into the airborne monstrosities. The Contemptor-Mortis sarcophagus was his final reward for his centuries of faithful service. His Helical Targeting Array tracked and eliminated the dozens of moving targets with unparalleled ease. He fulfilled the role his new body had been designed for over ten thousand years prior. Underneath the Atomantic shielding and ancient armor lay the cybernetic commander of his new mobile fortress. Though the entombment had irreversibly affected him, it had the unintended effect of unearthing his vigorous love of weaponry. As the Giant avian fell trailing black ichor and bullet holes, Jairus allowed himself a small smile from within his tomb.

And he kept firing.

-x-

The forward defensive line erupted into a hailstorm of projectiles at the rapidly approaching Beowolves. Unlike their airborne allies, they had the advantage of not facing a unit specifically designed to take out multiple airborne threats. Unfortunately, that only marginally improved their chances as the ordnance tore down many of the fast-moving Grimm. Mines detonated by the dozens, taking out limbs and perforating bodies. Thunderfire shells targeted any large groupings that formed while on the move, programmed and fired within seconds by their Techmarine attendants. Whirlwind missiles of both modern and the notorious implosive rounds fired by the Deimos Scorpius wreaked havoc on the creatures. Yet despite the firepower, many were still closing in on the front line, born aloft by sheer numbers.

Then their world became fire and agony.

Beams of angry red energy swept across the mass of Grimm. Flesh ignited and turned into burning ash. Heat and fire jumped from Grimm to Grimm like a virus. Enemies simply ceased to exist from the amount of thermal energy pumped into them. The beams turned the ground in front of the front line into a massive crematorium. No bone armor, no corded muscle or sheer determination could save them from the power they now faced. To add insult to injury, a hail of Cyclone missiles rained down on the remaining survivors, blowing apart the cowardly and half-melted. The Contemptor Dreadnought lowered its Twin-Linked Volkite Culverins, barrels discolored by heat. The Cyclone Launcher high on its back still had some smoke swirling around its empty launch ports. Upon seeing that the now firmly charred ground was clear of hostiles, the massive construct turned as gracefully as it could and moved towards the rear line.

On its way, the cybernetic walker's advanced autosenses gazed upon several odd youths. Unlike his dutifully minded brothers, they stared open-mouthed at his approach and passing. Though some regarded him with…emotions he was not used to seeing upon meeting humans. His cacophonous march to the rear finally brought him to his intended destination. Before him stood his Captain…and his friend. Immanuel nodded underneath his helmet. Though the Dreadnought's attention was quickly diverted when another Astartes paced up behind him.

"Judah."

His voice was like the opening of fortress doors

"…Priam."

-x-

The City of Vale was a very old city. A very old city relegated to a relatively confined area sandwiched between the shallow coast and towering mountains. It was safe enough, but sooner or later, space itself would have to be rationed. This led to the constant demolition and construction of new higher density living spaces to cut down on excessive wastes of land. While not as good as the people of Mistral in this regard, Vale had seasoned planners to help manage the above-ground situation. But below the surface, the same underground that had to be used and reused repeatedly, it was a different story.

In ancient times, the kings of Vale had built crypts and catacombs to honor their dead ancestors. The first sewer lines came only a few centuries later, followed by pipes carrying water and wires carrying current. Subway systems and power lines crisscrossed the developing kingdom in tangled webs. The infamous line to Mountain Glen was simply another abandoned addition to the cluttered underground. Whole sections were now abandoned in favor of more modern and safer areas pre-planned with the help of architects. These abandoned sections of sewers and subway lines were simply left to rot and rust away. But that was not to say that they were completely abandoned.

Poverty and homelessness were tricky issues in a world with monsters clawing at the door. There were shelters and societies set up to help those without a home, but many were either ill-funded or sporadically useful at best. With no where to go, many saw the abandoned hovels of the underground as preferable lodgings rather than living on the street. And so, the abandoned subway stations and drained sewage atriums became home to the poorest of Vale's refuse. Refugees either unable or unwilling to resettle in the wilds unable to find a home. Faunus escaping persecution from ignorant humans. The mentally or physically disabled that the system had chewed up. Drug addicts and criminals looking for shelter from the law, for smuggling through the tunnels was a very lucrative enterprise. The Underground as it was informally called, was a microcosm of Vale's downtrodden and misfits.

It was into this pit of despair and filth that Cinder, and her two cohorts journeyed. The upper levels of abandoned stations and tunnels were occupied by simple homeless folk, perhaps desperate but not the kind of people she was searching for. No, that required a good trek down into the bowels of the earth. Inspecting Mercury and Emerald out of the corner of her eye, Cinder smirked at their current state. Faces filled with uncertainty coupled with a few cleverly concealed tatoos had already initiated their first steps into the abyss. They rarely spoke nowadays except when necessary, the things she had shown them had that effect. Now the next step of the contingency could be properly set up.

Past a large hole in the side of a tunnel was an entryway to one of the oldest parts of the oldest sewage systems built under Vale. Brown bricks worn by years of carrying human filth made their footsteps echo off the walls. Bulbs emitting bright light were haphazardly nailed into the walls by some denizen or another to light up the tunnel, many were in poor condition with some completely out. As the trio navigated through increasingly dilapidated areas, the sewer began to fade into one of the many natural cave systems that so often bled into the Underground. The sounds of human life were almost jarring to hear this far down.

"According to our informants, our Lady's agent leads many of these people. While he nominally owes her fealty, he has been out of contact for quite some time. So, some…persuasion may be necessary if he has drifted from his duty." Dejected nods from the two were the only signifiers they had understood her. Making their way into the cavern proper, Cinder smiled, it seemed that it wasn't necessary after all. A strong and charismatic voice hushes the whispers trailing among the stone. Coming to a ledge overlooking a massive central area, a crowd of hundreds gather. The trio join in the masses, all obviously exultant.

"We are the Wretched."

The voice pauses. A tall hooded man paces across a raised platform. Many sit or stand totally enthralled.

"We are the refuse the men of Vale have deemed unfit for their grand society. We are the unwanted, the hated, filth. The clutter under which they raise their towers for a brave new world! And yet what has that new world entailed hmm? Who is it for if not those same ones who cast us down into this darkness? Let me tell you now my brethren, this new age of peace is only for the privileged few! Tell me how many of you are refugees from beyond the so-called safety of these walls?"

Numerous hands raised up along with shouts. The speaker nods and raises his own hands, his voice turning solemn.

"I know what that is like, I know the fear and anguish of losing everything. I watched all that I had ever known torn to pieces around me. I watched my wife and children be butchered in the streets run red. I hid and prayed to my old gods for survival. To live. But at that supreme moment of weakness is what I truly needed to see how utterly useless they were."

The man walks slowly to the fore of the platform and speaks in an ominous tone.

"Something found me then, as we found each other in this place, it seemed as if it was fated. It was if a candle had been blown out. The Grimm vanished into smoke as I beheld a visage of supreme terror and unearthly radiance. The Dark Maiden, the black queen who ferries souls to the underworld had taken pity on a simple cleric. I know some of you doubt me, think me a madman, those who hear me for the first time. Doubt is just the first obstacle to be overcome on the road of a new faith. And the Dark Maiden erased my doubts and commuted my fear to dust in her embrace. She showed me just what was wrong with the world, and with myself."

"It was not death we feared, we feared life. We feared our own potential strength. Remnant is dying. A slow death, but it's dying. I did what I had to, that's all. I opened my eyes and saw what a fool all of us were, bowing to pagan idols and Kingdoms that demanded our obedience. Haha! The exultation of her truth still sends shivers down my spine. It is the freshness of life. Now I truly live!"

The crowd was getting worked into a religious frenzy. The hood was thrown back to reveal a middle-aged man covered in esoteric tattoos and ritual scars.

"The Wretched shall one day claw out of this place and back to the realm of the arrogant! We will be the inheritors of a new legacy, a new world! I am your Prophet, and thus as I speak it, so it shall be!"

As the mass of zealot undulated and cheered their cult's leader, Cinder could only smile. For behind the figure almost concealed by shadow was an unmistakable emblem. The Dark Wheel was turning in this place. And the Primordial Annihilator's first rotten foray back into this world would bring death and suffering unlike anything anybody had ever seen. Cinder laughed and cheered along with them, laughing at all the fools damning their souls to ceaseless oblivion.

-x-

A/N: SO sorry about the delay, college and work have been distracting me. The next chapter will be more exposition and combat heavy though. I was initially unsure about how to introduce the Hunters and the Heralds. But eventually I decided that since they weren't a bunch of superstitious nuts like many people in the Imperium, they'd be shocked but would be rational about it. In a world where giant robots and monsters already exist, you would kind of expect that right? Comments are appreciated.