Editing Heresy of the Angry Marines (Pt 1) (section)

==Chapter 2==
===Old Wounds===

Techmarines dropped down alongside apothecaries to assess the battlefield and the downed marines. In regular instances, the Adeptus Mechanicus would try and preserve holy machinery and weaponry, and the two often overlapped. Now many of the techmarines were shuffled next to apothecaries, directed by the Chapter Master.   

“GET SOME FUCKING BIONICS ON MY MARINES BEFORE I SHOVE THIS CHAINFIST UP A PLACE THE SERVITORS WILL NEVER FIND!” he bellowed, taking a step forward and shoving a techmarine in the right direction. The mere threat of Temperus’ directed ire on one of their shoulders made the process of fitting ‘KICKASS ROBOT LIMBS’ run a lot more smoothly, a few marines testing out their new appendages with a forceful strike to the unfortunate apothecary or techmarine. This resulted in more than a few brawls within the chapter ranks, many of the Astartes feeling much better after pounding a battle-brother for a few minutes. Tyber was one of those marines, really understanding how the Angry Marines functioned. He clenched his new fist tightly, lamenting the violent loss of his brothers. He would never say it in those words, though. He would die like a chump, like Rex, that chump. He smashed a rock into tiny fragments with his fist, venting.   

Dune held an ungloved hand to his throbbing skull, grimacing and snarling. What had happened to him? What the fuck?   

“HEY, NERD! YOU’RE A LIBRARIAN, RIGHT?” Tyber asked him.   

“MASTER OF MINDFUCKERY, YOU STUCK-UP SHIT! GET IT RIGHT!”  

"WHATEVER! YOU DO LIBRARIAN JOBS DON’T YOU?” Dune got up and walked with a heavy step over to Tyber and grabbed the unsuspecting marine in a headlock, squeezing his head in his arm.  

"DON’T YOU EVER FUCKING INSULT ME LIKE THAT AGAIN! AND YES, I’M THE ONLY FUCKING ONE WHO GIVES A FLYING FUCK ABOUT HISTORY IN THIS CHAPTER. BECAUSE HISTORY IS FOR PUSSIES AND THOSE WHO DON’T LEARN REPEAT LIKE DOUCHES!” This part perplexed Tyber. Why would the Master of Mindfuckery denounce his own role? However, this was far from the forefront of his mind, the most important thing being the ever-growing frustration and rage at not being able to break Dune’s grip. The Astartes wriggled and squirmed, hitting the psyker in the ribs repeatedly until he yielded. Dune, however, was too enraged by Tyber’s audacity to resist his grip to give an inch to the marine, instead deciding to piledrive the junior marine into the dust. Now the one with the stronger headache, Tyber surrendered, receiving overwhelming disapproval from the Angry Marines. “FUCKING MARINE FOETUS-FUCKER ROOKIE! HE DOESN’T KNOW SHIT ABOUT US, ABOUT OUR SACRIFICE. WE ARE ANGRY FOR THE EMPEROR AND OUR LOST RECORDS!”   

“LOST RECORDS? WHAT THE FUCK?”   

"FUCKING GONE, SHITHEAD! CHAPTER HISTORY STARTS WITH FIRST CHAPTER MASTER FAL…” Dune turned his head away from his audience, heavy browed gaze averted, knowing what memory accompanied the Chapter Master’s fate. “…FAL, WHO WAS THE FIRST BELLIGERENT ENGINE TO FUCK CHAOS SIDEWAYS. THEN OUR ESTEEMED MOTHERFUCKER TEMPERUS TOOK OVER. SEEMS LIKE A NORMAL SECOND FOUNDING CHAPTER, RIGHT?” Several Astartes nodded. “WRONG! GO BACK TO SCHOOL, COCKSTROKERS! THE ANGRY MARINES HAVE OUR VERY FIRST RECORD AT THE END OF THE MOTHERFUCKING SIEGE OF TERRA! THERE WASN’T A FUCKING FOUNDING BACK THEN WHEN THE HOLY EMPEROR BITCH-SLAPPED THAT CUNT, HORUS! SO WE HAVE TO BE DESCENDED FROM A LEGION! A FUCKING ANGRY LEGION!”   

“I AGREE WITH HIS MINDFUCKERY. YOU DON’T ASK FOR RECORDS IN THE ANGRY MARINES, YOU GET KICKED IN THE DICK! NOW GO JOIN A DEVASTATOR SQUAD, COCKMONGLER!” Tyber hissed at the order, raising his fist. But he didn’t dare go against the orders of Temperus Maximus, lest he be treated to a fate worse than being sent to find Fulgrim’s Slaaneshi world alone, a quest so horrid just thinking about it was cause for a commissar to come visiting. He muttered some profanities and found a devastator squad to join, the marines he insulted now beating him with their weapons as repayment.   

Elsewhere, a scout walked alone, bleeding profusely through numerous holes in his armor, each step punctuated by a feeble ‘FUCK’. He turned his head rigidly, looking for danger in the gloom of the dark. Nothing seemed to appear for the time being, so he set his eyes forward, continuing to what would certainly be the vigorously burning flame of the Angry Marines’ forward base. They didn’t care for visibility. In fact, they hoped the enemies of man would be attracted to the fire so that they could exact the Emperor’s justice on their skulls, limbs, spines, possibly in that order. Some dust crunched together. The Astartes whipped around, his chainblade whirring meaninglessly in the dark of the night. He could definitely see figures now, dancing beyond the shadowy darkness, just out of reach. The scout turned to face this intangible threat, firing pointless punches at everything and striking short. Something moved ahead of the others. The scout took his chance and grabbed the black shape by the head and smashed it as hard as he could into the ground. The head flattened and pulped, spilling thick blood onto the loose dust over the rocks. The marine dropped the body and kicked it into the crowd that he couldn’t see, hearing it hit something organic. Before he could continue his assault, the marine heard a click and the night in front of him lit up with bolter fire.  

===Astartes Most Unusual===

“So, the Ordo Malleus’ dogs of war have called us in? For what?” a Deathwatch captain muttered, leaning his muscle-bound bulk on the sturdy wall. The Battle Sister Palatine beside him shook her head disapprovingly.  

“I’d be careful of what you say, Daegan. The Inquisitors might take that personally and they’re not afraid to accuse Astartes of heresy. Not unusual in my experience”.   

“What are you trying to insinuate about Space Marines?” Daegan inquired. The Palatine looked elsewhere, trying not to hold the marine’s gaze. The tension between them was broken by the shifting of the grand doors and the appearance of a hooded figure.  

"Captain Daegan, Palatine Katarina, you may come inside,” the inquisitor boomed, his authoritarian voice striking a nerve in Daegan. The Deathwatch captain entered first and took the head of an ornate dining table. This was clearly set out for many more people than the three of them present, so there was ample space between the chairs seated. The two guests did not have to wait long before one of the back doors, not quite as ornate or spectacular as the first set but almost so, opened, revealing a whole group of eerie inquisitors, one clearly their leader at the head. Each of them had a bolt pistol and a knife of some kind. Daegan raised an eyebrow at the men, thinking them ridiculous.   

“I hope you don’t mind the presence of my men. They will be overseeing this… ‘meeting’,” the Lord Inquisitor said, shifting his gaze between the two leaders.    

"Not at all,” Katarina said, familiar with working with the Inquisition, the Ecclesiarchy having similar goals to Ordo Hereticus. Malleus on the other hand wasn’t quite so familiar to her.  By contrast, Daegan raised his lip in a snarl, an air of contempt surrounding the man. The Lord Inquisitor dismissed both.  

"I’ve called this meeting to discuss a particularly problematic chapter. But let’s be honest and forward with this discussion. No one really likes the Angry Marines. They’re a bunch of raging, destructive, foul-mouthed and undisciplined louts with no respect for order or their fellow marines, Black Templars and Space Wolves notwithstanding. They’ve shown heretical tendencies since their founding, the incident with Marneus Calgar being especially notable in my mind”. Daegan snorted with disgust and shuffled to hide the Ultramarine pauldron from the others. “They are dangerous and now they’ve committed a heresy so great it defies the Emperor’s direct word. This act will remain unspoken of”.   

“How can we commit to this if we don’t know the cause?” Katarina asked, looking at the inquisitor and the space marine from across the table. Daegan glanced dangerously in the same way, growing tired of the effect of the space between the three leaders. The lord inquisitor put his hands on the table.   

“Have you ever questioned heresy?”  

"No,” the Palatine replied. The Lord Inquisitor grinned beneath the shadow of his hood.   

“''This'' is heresy. Do not question it. So the Angry Marines oppose everything the Inquisition stands for, and heretical chapters can’t be left alone. They need to be expunged before they infect the greater body. And unlike the Space Wolves, these marines are not a First Founding chapter. We will have no problems with their destruction”. The inquisitor tented his fingers, silently asking for a response.   

“So what would the Daemonhunters and Deathwatch have to do with this? Surely this falls under Ordo Hereticus? I understand where the Orders Militant come in, these ‘Angry Marines’ obviously being an affront to the Emperor’s decree.” the Palatine said. Daegan shot a derisive look at the Lord Inquisitor.  

"Good question. Daegan, you are a Deathwatch Marine, are you not?”   

“By the Emperor’s name, I am! What of it?”  

"You’ve sworn to destroy the vile xenos that oppose mankind?”   “Yes?” Daegan replied, irritated.   

“What is a xeno, dear Captain?”   

“An alien. Something inhuman”.  

"My assumptions, based in practice, are correct. So then, an alien is something that isn’t from where you are from… and inhuman. A Space Marine is a man, but he isn’t human. They are post-human. And the Angry Marines are not from where you are from and they oppose mankind. How does this not fall under your sector of expertise?” Daegan narrowed his sunken eyes and admitted defeat. “As for the Daemonhunters, chosen of the Emperor’s will? We have noted a disturbing number of daemons in the general vicinity of where the Angry Marines were last spotted. If those marines have fallen to chaos like we have thought, then it is only natural that there would be daemons. We may have to… deploy our specialist forces as well. Emperor knows a better force of Astartes would crush these unruly misfits”. The other two looked at the inquisitor with confusion and the old man simply grinned to himself, leaving the Captain and the Palatine in the dark.  

===The Marines Advance===

The bang of bolter fire dissipated as it cut through the air, barely reaching the ears of the farthest spread marines. A sergeant smashed a diamond hard rock under the force of his power foot, an Angry Marine exclusive weapon. A small detachment of marines subordinate to him sparred with their power bats, the matter disruption fields turned off. Though belligerent, the marines were not so stupid as to risk killing their battle-brothers. The brothers who used power swords sheathed the weapons and beat their comrades with their armored fists. With his injured hands, Dune resolved to grip the blade and exchanged blows with the sergeant, using the sword hilt as a club.  The sergeant tackled the psyker and the two of them fought for a minute or two, their righteous anger somewhat tempered by the rough-housing. When a call rang through the encampment, Dune looked up from smashing the sergeant’s head into the ground.  

"THIS ISN’T OVER,” he said, clasping his head after the sergeant’s repeated bludgeoning of it with his bat. With an acrobatic wriggle, the sergeant got to his feet and went to see what the 2nd Company Captain had to say. 

“C’MON, CHUCKLEFUCKS! WE’RE TAKING THE BATTLE TO THEM!” Satchel cried, sending a wave of frustration through the marines, asking why it took so long to reach this consensus. The others hit their fists together in anticipation of another raging battle in the Emperor’s name.

During the down time, aerial assistance came down from the fleet, sending transports for the Astartes. The most numerous were somewhat familiar to imperial eyes, hovering, quick moving skimmers holding a few marines each. But the quintessential Land Speeder had been changed somewhat by the Angry Marines. The light armor had been bolstered considerably and the shape lent itself to hard angles that were harsh and simple. The propulsion was stronger and the engine more furious in its look and sound. The nose of the craft was still covered in gore and dried blood spatter, likely a request from the marines themselves to commemorate kills and to laugh about it. These Rage Speeders were powerful battering rams that allowed one passenger seat’s worth of space for the Angry Marines to slash anything that slides off the nose, the plasma grenade launchers and heavy bolters supplying rare firepower. Supplied with these vehicles, the battle-brothers fought with fist and bat to get to a position in the craft, the actual designated pilots having to resort to more and more violent methods to keep the others at bay. Eventually, many of the marines had embarked on what were effectively two man battering rams while the rest had to wait for more vehicles to arrive. A cocky laugh and a flick of the middle finger drove the point home to the grounded warriors. 

Dune shoved a prospective ganger away, citing his lack of anger as being unworthy of boarding the vehicle, though doing so let another marine board the craft ahead of him. This incited him with such rage that he almost broke his power sword over his knee, instead backhanding a brother that happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Needless to say, a fight soon broke out and missed blows brought more combatants. The Angry Marines devolved into a pack of brawlers, but the scuffle ended quickly as the Rage Speeders departed with a furious kick, blazing across the rocky terrain. With the enraged screams abated, the speeder crews entered a strange state of focus, searching high and low for the enemy. Though concentrating, they were not subtle or quiet. Many a bolthole was given the warm reception of a plasma grenade or utter destruction from the end of a chainsword. Occasionally a piece of an already slain tyranid flew up in a haze of smoke, but the marines would be so far unlucky. 

Something moved at the edge of one marine’s vision. He turned rapidly to see whatever it was in full and found himself facing a Warrior. In silent agreement with his passenger, the pilot charged directly at the tyranid. The creature noticed the immediate threat, not difficult when said threat is a bold yellow battering ram filled with screaming lunatics revving chainswords and yelling curses, and promptly began to run, quickly. At the rate it was running and the speed their vehicle was travelling, the Rage Speeder’s crew would surely miss. But the pilot wasn’t so sure. Turning his vehicle and letting momentum take them, he power-slid the hovering craft at bone-breaking speed into the tyranid. The passenger took his chance through the open side of the speeder and cut a whirlwind of slashes into the Warrior, turning it into a fountain of blood. 

“FUCK YEAH! SUCK ON THAT, INSECT MOTHERFUCKER!” the marine shouted, kicking the corpse furiously until it freed itself from the side of their vehicle. His fist met the driver’s and the two reported their kill. “HEY, CHUMPS! BIG BUGS READY TO SQUASH RIGHT OVER HERE!”

“DON’T NEED TO TELL US TWICE! PREPARE TO GET WRECKED!” The other pilots converged on the site, their speeders slamming into each other from their enthusiasm. The pilots, in a surprising act of restraint, refrained from beating each other senseless. They heard something, under the surface. This tactic of breaking from underneath was getting very irritating. The speeders dispersed, their impressive speed clearing hundreds of metres from the site broken. In sync with each other, the pilots all turned towards the creature, half of a Trygon exposed to the air. But this time, the lithe beast wriggled free from the rabbit hole of its own making. The marines ignored this and continued to build speed, distance closing dramatically. As he went, the vanguard of the ramming force noticed movement in the hole and changed his course slightly. 

“MAN THE GUN IF YOU HANDLE IT!” he said to his passenger who picked up the heavy bolter and aimed at the hole. A smaller shape continued to shift in the hidden portion and then it remained still as the Rage Speeder barreled fourth furiously. Suddenly, there was a bang on the underside of the craft. The marines looked at each other disbelievingly and their vehicle stopped charging and started falling. Coming short of the hole, the Rage Speeder exploded into a ball of flame. 

“WHAT THE FUCK?!?” a Rage Pilot screeched before urging his gunner to fire every one of their weapons on the hole. Flames and bolts screamed towards the opening in the ground and the creatures inside scattered, the slow ones instantly vaporised by the barrage. Now the marines could identify what killed the other two. Crouched figures protected by a hard shell and molded to a gun, the Hive Guard were notorious among the Imperium for utterly destroying tanks and transports. These light fliers were easy prey. The Rage Pilot sank his machine low to the ground and accelerated as quickly as he could, smashing into the nearest Hive Guard with enough force to rip the gun from its arms. The squealing tyranid was ripped apart the passenger marine, power field effortlessly tearing the creature in two. But in their fervor for revenge, they had neglected to notice the giant form of the Trygon in their path. The two marines rammed into with full force. 

“THINK YOU’RE BIG AND TOUGH? SUCK ON THIS, BUG-FUCK!” the Rage Pilot shouted before impact. The craft’s fuel tank ruptured and detonated, taking a massive chunk of the Trygon’s lower body flesh, sending the giant to the ground. The two marines were flung weightlessly in the other direction, their armor weakened and shattered by the detonation. But there was salvation for them yet. Sticky webs of some unknown substance whipped around the marines and their impact with the ground was softened. The gunner looked up weakly and bright yellow filled his vision. The color in front of him lumbered forward and he knew it was a Belligerent Engine. 

===Savior, Bane===

The mighty dreadnought charged and impaled a surprised Hive Guard on his drill, the spinning weapon gutting the beast. The creature, tossing and turning to rid itself of the spike in its stomach, was thrown into its remaining allies, toppling them. One’s head was crushed under the dreadnought’s foot and the others retreated into the crumbling hole again, beyond the machine’s reach. The aged warrior knew that the assault was not over and his thoughts were proven true in a matter of seconds. Bursting from new avenues, Carnifexes and Biovores appeared from thin air to attack the lone engine. He accepted the challenge of these mindless beasts and stood his ground ahead of his injured brothers. 

“WE MAY BE ANGRY AND WE MAY FIGHT… BUT WE’RE STILL SPACE MARINES AND WE’RE STILL BATTLE-BROTHERS!” the war machine rumbled, not expecting the filthy xenos to understand, defensively digging his feet into the rocky ground. The closest Carnifex roared and the engine took the opportunity to fire a plasma bolt into the beast’s mouth, ripping its top jaw to pieces. 

“BROTHER BANE! …FUCK THOSE ASSHOLES UP!” the pilot encouraged weakly. Bane would have nodded if he could, but the destruction of xenos would be good enough. Through very strong will, Bane resisted the inbuilt urge to engage the creatures in melee, to rip out their spines and beat them with them. The dreadnought hated every second of internment and doubly so every second he stayed to protect the other two. A Biovore fired one of its vile spores at him, the contents exploded over his head. He would be shaken by the assault of this tyranid scum. Dozens of bioforms, predominantly Carnifexes, made the decision to charge, making a wave of armored flesh that even Bane would not thwart. A beast’s head was whacked to the side by his drill, its braincase penetrated by his devastating weapon as he thrust it into the back of its skull. 

A Carnifex descended on Bane’s plasma cannon, clamping its jaws around the weapon, its torso steaming from previous shots. The strong jaw muscles twisted the metal with a creak, snapping and making the weapon useless. Bane wrested the arm back and hit the beast away with it. He didn’t see the one behind him. It surprised the experienced soldiers, attacking his arm with tooth and claw until the limb came off, its mangled form unrecognisable as a plasma cannon. The vultures were closing in on the stricken dreadnought and his allies were otherwise engaged. His drill rammed into a Carnifex’s throat, spraying boiling blood over his chassis. For the first time since he had been locked into the machine, Bane felt a sensation on his skin, the searing burn of a molten tyranid’s blood on his naked flesh. With his limited mobility, he stepped on another beast’s toes and opened a space. 

A Carnifex on the back line disappeared in a flash of blue. Several other tyranids looked in the direction of the smoking corpse and briefly noticed a beam fading away from it. Beside it, a Biovore was decapitated by a beam and its body turned to ash. Appearing as if from nowhere, the imposing, gigantic shape of a Land Raider had arrived, delivering lascannon shots from a safe distance away. On the top of the machine, there was a stranger weapon, one that seemed to have moving ammunition. 

“RELEASE THE MARINES!” the driver shouted to the gunner and he fired the weapon. In an instant, eighteen marines exited the tubes of the Land Raider’s dorsal mounted weapon and flew headlong into the tyranid horde. The creatures were not ready for this new tactic and the artillery were targeted first, Angry Marines jumping into the rear lines of the enemy to tear the Biovores to shreds. With many of the Carnifexes busy with Bane or the Land Raider, the living artillery was defensively and the marines cut them to ribbons. One burst into flames and it was clear that a psyker was nearby. 

“YOU FUCK RIGHT OFF, NIDS!” Dune shouted, ripping a Biovore’s head of its shoulders and crushing the skull in his hand. “BANE, YOU TOUGH SON OF A BITCH, WE’RE COMING TO GET YOU!” 

“ACKNOWLEDGED, FOURTH COMPANY CAPTAIN. PREPARE FOR HOLY DESTRUCTION!” The dreadnought heaved and lurched forward, lifting a multi ton beast on the tip of his drill. The desperately striking Carnifex scratched and bit at his arm, the protective layers giving him enough protection to give him time to prepare. That day, Dune saw a Carnifex sail over the top of a dreadnought and into the path of a Rage Speeder that turned the creature’s lower body into paste. With that, Bane slumped over, his remaining arm supporting his mechanical weight. 

Another set of drop pods rained down on the scorched earth, another Belligerent Engine coming to Bane’s aid and a whole host of Space Marines come to face the growing horde of Warriors escaping the holes. Blades met claws, helmet to skull and the organised formation of any other chapter was completely alien to these Astartes. They fought with synchronized madness, tearing into the enemy line, cutting tendons and ripping stomachs. Dune personally sought to the destruction of Carnifexes, wanting to avenge the brothers lost the previous day. His power sword cut through the chitinous and igneous armor, both hands making light work of the enemy. 

“CAPTAIN DUNE! OUR SENSORS ARE PICKING UP SOMETHING FUCK-HUGE COMING IN YOUR DIRECTION. WHERE IS CAPTAIN SATCHEL?”

“WITH HIS GIRLY MEN ON THE LEFT FLANK! RASEREI AND THE CHAPTER MASTER SHOULD BE C…” Dune stopped and stared. A giant footfall hit the hard ground, flattening any rocks under it. Another step and the ground shook. Dune’s eyes widened and he staggered back, giving the squirming Carnifex he was about to slay time to right itself. The gunmen in the Land Raider and Rage Speeders stopped to aim at the titan. For a minute, all focus was on that gigantic creature. No such giant of flesh and blood should be on this planet. Where had the tyranids deployed this beast from. “FOURTH COMPANY, TACTICAL WITHDRAWAL!” he shouted, not afraid of the beast but apprehensive of how he would destroy it. Based on his experience, this thing, this gigantic beast covered in every inch with cooled obsidian, was a titanic Hierodule, a much larger example than he had ever seen. 

“CAPTAIN, WE ARE EQUIPPED TO DEAL WITH THIS TASK. PREPARE FOR TITAN DEPLOYMENT!”

Behind Dune, a giant cloud of black dust flew up into the air, hiding the Land Raider from view and sending a torrent onto Bane’s back. The huge feet of the machine dug deep into the rock and the crew tore them out quickly. The tyranids gave no attention to this new arrival, continuing their onslaught on the ground forces. Dune smashed his sword into another tyranid, the wounds on his hands searing every time he attacked. Behind them all, something in the stirred in the gloom.

“Reaver Class Battle Titan Dragomir deployed. Prepare to die”. The grand war machine, painted in the bold, proud colors of the marines and rearing its skull like face through the dust, reached one massive hand behind its back and drew a colossal weapon. The Hierodule began to circle the titan, keeping its distance for the time being to assess a weak spot. Dragomir would give it none and lunged forward, slicing flesh from the giant’s face. Dune smirked at the ominous figure. Someone in the Mechanicus had been insane enough to build a power sword for a titan…


[[Category:Hive Fleet Nidhoggr]][[Category:Warhammer 40,000]]
[[Category:Stories/Warhammer 40,000]]