2 months? Christ that's a while. But i've got the internet sorted, and Christmas out of the way, and a decent enough time to work on the story.
Veteran Sergeant Ozi Bel-Marduk ducked as the Dreadnought stomped down the alley parallel to the one he and his demi-squad had scurried into. They were hiding behind corrugated iron shacks, the houses of the former inhabitants of this town, whilst the Ancient Fire Hawk burped another hail of assault cannon rounds into the tree-line.
The Dreadnought was a problem for Ozi. He could ignore it and proceed with his mission as planned, but he would be directly responsible for any Mantis Warriors who fell to the Hero. Or, he and his squad could combat the hulking tomb, which could result in slowing him and his squad down enough to mean that Captain Hamadan, and sergeants Sarza and Craterus would be left unsupported on their assault on the warehouse, and that was assuming they survived the encounter.
They had surprise on their side, the half dead warrior hadn't noticed the demi-squad as they cowered behind the houses, and they were equipped with melta weapons to cut through the side of the warehouse. Ozi clenched his powerfist as he made his decision.
"Tipater, take Zanda and Antigon, wait for my signal, then head across the road, and we can hit it from both sides at once, at that break around 30 metres down the road. I'll fire first, then you. It should be distracted enough by the split fire that we can really hit it, and do enough to take out a weapon, once that's gone we can move in to close to take it out with grenades. Am i clear?" Four affirmatives flashed on his retinal display.
Ozi waited for a number of heart beats, his helmet picking up the dreadnoughts mechanical clamping steps. When it was half way between their current position and the ambush point he'd picked, he blink-clicked the signal to Tipater.
The Astarte moved with his two brothers, the three moving in single file. Tipater burst from cover, sprinted across the road, and slid into cover on the opposite side. He swung right and covered the lane with his meltagun. As soon as he stopped Antigon stood and bolted across the open road, following the path the meltagunner took. When he hit the alley, he swung left, covering the lane with his bolter.
Zanda rose and ran, Ozi turned to get to his ambush position, with Cyrus when the all familiar burp sounded again. Immediately a blinking red rune flashed across his display. Zanda was down. The fallen Astartes bolter barked in defiance as a bloody burbling sounded across the static laden vox. Even at this short distance the Dust Prophets work was affecting them.
The Dreadnought's assault cannon burped a second time, and the bolter fell silent. The flashing red rune turned black. OZi froze and tried to reach the other half of his demi-squad over the vox. Antigon's voice reached him first, tinny and echoing.
"It's coming for us sergeant, you're behind it, it's coming for us", Antigon had repeated the message, hoping it would reach Ozi and Cyrus.
Ozi grimaced and nodded at Cyrus, indicating to be followed. The pair took off at a full sprint, ensuring they were behind the dreadnought before they attacked. It stood, planted, less than ten meters away, it's assault cannon tearing the iron houses apart as though they weren't even there.
Ozi steadied his combi-melta and pulled the secondary trigger. The beam of superheated air silently sliced into the assault cannons ammo drum, melting metal and igniting the remaining rounds. Cyrus was thrown from his feet as a round shattered the eagle on his chest, and Ozi flinched as one ricocheted off the ground and into his pauldron.
The Dreadnought itself rocked to one side, away from the explosion. Slowly, much slower than it should have, the Ancient Fire Hawk began to turn around to face the Mantis Warrior Sergeant. Ozi sprinted forwards and swung his powerfist before the tomb could bring it's storm bolter to bear. His fist smashed into the Old Ones hip, armour plating bending and tearing as the damaged servos were hammered by the Veteran Sergeant. He grabbed a bundle of wires and wrenched, coating himself in lubricants as they squirted out, the black blood of the Dreadnought pumping from the torn artery.
The Fire Hawk spun quicker this time, as though Ozi had accidentally released something. Though quicker, the swipe lacked any real power, Ozi deflected the blow using his powerfist, and transferred the momentum into a spinning left hook. His fist mashed into the Dreadnought sarophagus, stoving a crack into the intricately carved artwork there.
His opponents counter was a full strike, as though the Fire Hawk had taken the blow to allow an opening in Ozi's guard. The Mantis Warrior managed to pull his powerfist up, using it like a shield. He spun through the air, thrown a dozen metres away, before crashing through the corrugated iron shack. He coughed and gasped as he tried to draw a breath. His rib plate was cracked, and his left arm was a ruin, the bones beneathe the sparking smoking powerfist had shattered in several places, whilst the glove itself has fused into a claw of agony.
Ozi wheezed as he pulled himself up. The Dreadnought was trying to walk to towards him, but it's ruined right leg prevented it from moving. Unable to close the distance on the stricken Mantis, the Hawk leveled his Storm Bolter at him. Ozi, determined to stare his killer in the eye, stood as straight as he could. The storm bolter barked, and Ozi was thrown from his feet a second time, the bolt rounds hammering into the armour of his shoulder.
The Dreadnought had missed, and lurched as it tried to turn around. Cyrus was dragging Ozi into cover, blind-firing at the ancient. Ozi's retinal display flickered as he was pulled into range, Antigon and Tipater were shooting at the rear of the Fire Hawk. The meltagun had shredded chunks out of the Ancient's rear armour, huge slagged holes had been punched into the casings of the Tomb's power generator. Already it's energy field was failing, his claw little more than a club. His movements, previously smooth and threatening, were now jerky and unpredictable, the stop start showing the half dead hero had lost some control of it's functions.
Damaged, brutalised, the Old One was still deadly. Antigon flew through the air as the Dreadnought's fist rammed through his knee. Cyrus stuck his Sergeant behing a table, checked he was still breathing, and vaulted over the table to help his brothers. Ozi dragged himself to his feet. Tipater was tearing chunks out of the Ancients armour with his meltagun, whilst Cyrus was readying a krak grenade behind the behemoth. The sergeant staggered forwards, his system flooded with stimulants and painkillers, his armour cracked and shattered in a dozen places.
The pain, gone from a searing agony in his lungs, to a muffled ache in his chest. The benefits of Astarte Mk VIII armour. His stagger had evolved into a shambling stumbling run, his malfunctioning powerfist raised in defiance. The Dreadnought swung towards him at the last second, the nameplate "Arthas" inscribed in gold, folding underneath the force of his swing. He gripped the armour, tearing a hole in the sarcophagus. Amniotic fluid drenched Ozi's fist, the sterilised stench forcing it's way into his helmet. He could see the wrinkled necrotic husk of a trunk, tubes and wires penetrating the half dead corpse.
The bones in Ozi's arm ground together as he reached for the fallen hero. The Dreadnought managed to jerk and buck, trying to throw the Mantis Warrior off, but his grip was too deep. He flailed inside the sarcophagus, desperate to crush the pilot before it felled another of his squad. Wires snapped and sagged, pulled out by Ozi's grasping fingers. He managed to wrap his hand around the corpse's stump of a right leg, as the Dreadnought's claw wrapped around his own. With a snapping wrench, the Ancient ragged Ozi out, only to release him at the arc of his swing.
Ozi rolled as he landed, thudding over and over through the dust. He blacked out, his display flickering with static. Rough hands flipped him onto his back, and began patting him down, feeling through his armour for injuries, looking for the tell tale softness of the armour. His helmet snapped clear, and he could see the yellow painted face plate of Cyrus looking at him.
The sergeant was pulled to his feet by his brother, and turned to look at Tipater and Antigon. The latter was held upright by the meltagunner, his left leg plates had buckled rigidly. He could stand, but barely.
"Orders?" Antigon could barely keep the pain from his voice.
Ozi didn't want to look down. He knew his left arm was a ruin, but he was more worried about his chest. It had been a glancing blow, but from a Dreadnought, that could be enough. Tipater was staring at it, obvious even with his helmet on.
"What are we looking like for ammunition?" Ozi's question came out as a snarl.
"With Zanda's equipment, about half of what we need". Cyrus shifted his weight and handed Ozi's combi-melta to him, his own bolter mag-locked to his leg.
"Can you walk?" Ozi had directed his question at Antigon.
"Barely, the leg has seized and i've no way to fix it, even without the broken leg it'd be a challenge to move quickly".
"You can support me then" the sergeant shifted, and nearly fell into the other Astarte. "Tipater, grad Zanda's body, we can recover his equipment and gene-seed, his sacrifice will not be forgotten. Cyrus, you cover him". Ozi's voice grew weaker, the rage he felt at loosing his a brother drowned out by the pain in his chest. "We'll get to the extraction point, we can't carry out our mission in this state".
The pair of Astartes began heading towards the tree line, heading towards the extraction point, back the way they'd spent hours creeping up from. Craterus, Bactraeus, and Sarza would have to make do without the demi-squad.
Tipater opened a link to Cyrus as they ran to retrieve their fallen brother, both skirting round the frozen ruin of the Fire Hawk Dreadnought.
"If that smug bastard Cassander so much as smirks, i swear to the throne i'll drop him".
He grunted as he swung Zanda's corpse over his shoulder, and turned to run after his sergeant.
Cyrus kept his boltgun pointed down the alley, and waited to see if anything was likely to follow them. After a while he turned and sprinted after his demi-squad, stopping only to look at the mechanical ruin. The hero has been dragged from his housing, Ozi's grip had wrenched him out his sarcophagus as the Dreadnought had pulled the sergeant out of the sepulchre.
Cyrus stared at the husk for a second, his lips pulling across his teeth in a snarl as he pulled his helmet off.
"Traitor", he spat at the corpse, and watched as the acid burnt through the corpses skull. After a second he shot the husk through the head, and ran to join his demi-squad.