Sunday, 16 May 2010

Death stalks the Underhive

Fear was etched onto his face, the abject terror in his eyes cast fleeting glances at everything around him. He was running for his life.
Proctor Corban fled through the darkness, never stopping, desperate to escape the creeping death that stalked him. . .

45mins earlier. . .
The lift clanked and rattled as it proceeded further into the underhive carrying the 10 Arbites into the pit below.
Corban turned to the others 'This is a simple operation, we go in take the bastard down and drag his worthless hide back to precinct so that he can have his personal brand of Imperial Justice. Got that?'
'What are we facing sir?'
'Well' started Corban 'Apparently this guy has butchered his way through hab blocks 39 through 87 leaving no survivors and he's done it quieter than a heretic in a convent'
'Right. . .'
'Anyway, last stop people, lock and load! We're in for one wild night.'

Corban was exhausted the carapace armour feeling leaden, it really wasn't designed for this he mused. He stripped the breastplate off reflecting on what little it had done to protect his squadmates. . .

30mins earlier. . .
'Sir you might want to have a look at this'
'Oh for frak sake Jones you're probably jumping at shadows again'
'Knock it off Bateman' berated Corban 'What do you see Jones?'
'Looks like some sort of hive'
Corban moved over to Jones and shined his illuminator into the blackness ahead
That was when they died, Corban watched, first Jones torn in half by a four armed monster from nightmares. Then more of them came, Wills and Becks were dragged into an opening screaming whilst Cramer screamed as bio-acid ate away at his face.
By this time shotguns were blasting the beasts but there were too many. More screams came from the squad and Corban shouted
'Fall back, fire and movement, back to the lift'
It was already too late.

Now Corban was the only one left, and he didn't know how long that would last. Finally the lift came into view, a beacon of hope for his survival.
Corban dived through the doorway and slammed his palm into the switch setting the lift onto its course upwards.
Finally he sat and relaxed. The sound of chittering and clicking of claws came from above.
Proctor Corban's scream was silenced before his brain realised he was already dead.