Full Lasbolt Jacket

+Sub-sector Lao, Ultima Segmentum+
+Fortress world Dai'Nam, Ostland system+
++247 years before the 12th Black Crusade++

Jumping off of a Valkyrie gunship, the humid air clings to all the Guardsman as the vehicle blasted music about a song on running through a jungle. Soon enough the gunships flew away from the wet tropical trees and back to the fortress city. "This seemly worthless ball of wet dirt is what we're fighting for kids!" yelled Sargent Handerson on the top of his lungs to the conscripts. With wide eyes and open mouths, the fresh replacements gazed around this alien environment. The Argi-world of Dixie didn't exactly have tropical fauna but in the few zoos built on that planet. "Welcome to Dai Nam, kids!" shouted Sgt. Handerson to bring the conscripts back to stand at attention. One of the unfortunate daughters of Dixie sent to this meat grinder was Gretadotir, the 3rd Dixie Regiment already gave the name of 'Grim' to her. "Grim, get your shit-stained ass over here!" ordered the Sargent.

"Yes, sir?" saluting Grim after running right in front of him.

"I know you've already been briefed on this operation... right?"

"I have, sir!"

"Drop the fucking formality unless you want me to see me get my brains blown out by Beta snipers. Yes, that's an order! Just Sarg well do."

"Understood, Sarg."

"Now once we start charging up this hill here," pointing to Hill 558 right next to him, "I want you to go back and forth to this vox caster here called Ranchboy," then showing a man who looked to roll around in the dirt.

"My name is Rikard, used to work on my family's Grox ranch," told the gruff rancher with a heavy machine on his back.

"So, you'll be delivering coordinates from a spotter located on our eastern flank, here," Then Sarg pointed at to an unusual clearing in the jungle for where the spotter would be hiding.

Almost like a Cadian Foot Troop, the Dixie Regiments are very much the same except for the fact their Flak Armor has less plating and more thick Flak fabric. This decision was probably made when the Forge world that made the Dixie equipment cheaped out on Flak Armor. Just when Sarg finished explaining the plan to Grim, several more gunships flew into the LZ to drop off another platoon. The engines silenced any voices not shouting over the noise. Taking 20 minutes to reach the base of Hill 558 from the LZ, the scenery slowly changed from flat rice farms to impenetrable foliage. Just entering the jungle, there was already several losses among the attackers. One Eldar drowned in sinking sand, then a human was strangled by a giant python, and another killed instantly from touching a poisonous amphibian. “With all these losses I’ll get promoted eventually,” said Grim to get a chuckle out of the squad.

When the battalion did arrive at the base of the hill the Guardsmen were greeted by some potshots from stubbers at their north. “Skirmish line formation and advance!” ordered Sarg to tell his squad to a spread out line facing the enemy then jumping from cover to cover. Just as the squad started to push, a Guardsman was hit right in the shoulder next to Grim. She prevented the Guardsman from falling by holding him up with one arm then dragging him behind a tree. To her amazement, the Flak plate that was hit began to fracture. “What in the Warp are they shooting us with?” Grim was asking to nobody in particular. “FLJ stubber rounds, rounds trying to act like Lasbolts, 7mm little shits can’t punch through Flak plates but enough shots can tear the Flak Armor apart from the inside out,” answer Ranchboy while helping the Guardsman back up. In horror, Grim said, “If our Flak plates break, won’t that mean we’re as vulnerable as a Grox trying to build a cogitator to save his life?” Smiling to reply, “Why yes little lady, so you best not get hit by these FLJs. By the way, the rounds can also slice through Flak fabric no problem.”

Gulping when taking in the information, Grim realized under the beating sun that she entered a slaughterhouse. Making to a quarter ways up the hill, the chaos and stress under fire grew for the Guardsmen. Shouts of “Beta contact” and “enemy 50 meters” could be heard all over the side of the hill. Progress seems to be made by 3rd Regiment until suddenly stubber fire came from all sides hitting the Guardsmen. Even Eldar soldiers couldn’t react fast enough from being shot from underneath their feet. Separatist PDF troopers were shooting from hidden foxholes covered in leaves or fake rocks that most Guardsmen walk pass. Grim called out “They’re in the ground! Beta is dug in all around us!” in the hopes Sarg hears her yelling. What looked to be too long for Grim, the squad brought up their flamer to burn out the hiding enemies.

Fire crawl down to the holes or firing slits then flushed out the separatists. Screaming in pain and throwing arms about one trooper ran out of his foxhole. He was put down by Sarg drawing his Las-pistol to shoot him twice in the chest. Another trooper was crawling towards Grim in agony with her hair falling off. Grim tripped over a rock while backing away from the dying woman but she still aimed her Las-gun at the burning enemy. When Grim fired at the trooper’s face she saw how the head deform before the face exploded from the Lasbolt. Overwhelmed by the smell of burning flesh, she walked away from the corpse to forget about what just happened in front of her face. Wishing to leave it behind, Grim ran back to combat with the entrenched enemy to the north that wasn’t right on top of them.

“Grim, get your sorry ass over here!” ordered Sarg.

“Yes, Sarg?”

“Time to shine kid, spotter should be in position by now,”

“Going, Sarg!”

“Hold your horses I ain’t done talking, remember you’re going to be alone on this one so make sure to not get your worthless brains blown off. Got it?”

“Crystal clear, Sarg!”

“Good, so hop to it already!”

Grim ran off away from the main firefight to reach the far eastern flank of the battalion. At the edge of the battle, the lonely quiet wind sets in to tell her of a suspicious presence. Rounds had ceased flying at her direction and trying to blow her head off when she got far enough away. “Get the fuck down you dumbass!” told the spotter when Grim walked to a jungle clearing. “Are you the spotter?” Grim asked in a hushed tone to prevent Beta from hearing her. “Sure as shit I’m the spotter, now take this parchment back to Ranchboy,” said the spotter while she wrote down the last of the coordinates then handing it to Grim. Stuffing the paper into her waist pouch, she set off in a sprint back to Ranchboy trying to avoid any enemies. Unknown to her, danger lurked in every corner of this gods’ forsaken Warphole.

Getting to about 20 meters or so from the spotter, Grim hears the bushes suddenly rustle with the air standing still. Turning her head to look, she noticed in time a trooper was jumping out of the undergrowth with a fixed bayonet on his stubber. Wishing to kill her silently, the trooper tried to pierce the Flak fabric on the stomach. Using just her hands to grab the barrel of the stubber, Grim fell to the ground on her back as she pushed the blade just to the left of her stomach. With the weapon planted firmly into the ground, she used that opportunity to draw her combat knife to stab at the trooper’s torso. In pain the trooper screamed to only be thrown to the ground by Grim, now they both wrestled on the ground. Once she had the advantage to deliver the killing blow with her knife, Grim hesitated when she saw the face of her younger brother on the trooper. Although he was frothing at his mouth and held bloodlust in the eyes, the trooper did look somewhat like Gretadotir’s brother.

Taking the pause to his advantage, the trooper forced Grim to roll back to the ground with a strong push. Making sure to not get stabbed again, he placed his knees on her arms to prevent movement as he chocks her with his bare hands. “Death to the False Emperor and Goddess!” shouted the trooper to build his zeal when bringing darkness to Grim’s eyes. Slowly being drained of life while struggling in defiance, she knew this was at death’s doorstep. Fortunately, the fight alerted the spotter nearby to intervene. Running in with a kick, she threw off the trooper on top of Grim before filling his torso with a series of Lasbolts. “Fucking bastard though he had the jump on us!” told the spotter then made the motions of masturbation on top of the corpse to insult the dead kid. The spotter kicked the body to make sure the boy was dead brought realization to Grim. For all the formalities with the charm of honor held by Dixiens back at home, she couldn’t imagine how barbaric the enemy or her own comrades would act.

“T-thanks,” said when Grim was standing back up. Resuming with the stubber fire, she ducked and weaved to make her way to Ranchboy. “Got the coordinates?” yelled Ranch boy as the tree he sat behind was being filled with rounds. “Here you go!” shouted Grim after taking off her pouch then throwing it to him. She refused to leave the cover of her rock when the enemy lied down suppressive fire. Digging through the bag, Ranchboy found some power packs and a rolled up paper. “Nice partner!” yelled back a  to Grim. Reading off of the paper to the vox caster, “Requesting payload delivery at, East 095, South 037, grid pad 1 through 3!” shouted Ranchboy. From the vox caster came back the reply, “East 095, South 037, grid pad 1 through 3, confirm?” and he shouted back “Affirmative, drop for effect!” Sarg being told that voidcrafts were coming to “Bomb the shit out of that trench” ordered his squad to sit tight and fix bayonets. Anxiously waiting for the "light show”, the entire battalion halted their advance.

Hearing overhead the screaming voidcrafts, Grim looked up to the heavens to see two bombers flying in. Lining up for the Promethium strike, the first bomber flew to drop its bombs to scorch the hill and hit just shy of the trench. On the other hand, the second bomber came in just after the first to hit directly on the mark. “Charge, charge you spineless cowards!” yelling Sarg to tell his squad to advance. War cries and screaming could be heard from the entire battalion as they ran up to the trench. It was all such a weird experience for Grim who was a virgin to bloodshed coming from her farm in the middle of nowhere. Such a sight to behold, her newborn eyes saw a surreal picture ahead of her. Forcing her body to move, she conquered her inherent human nature to avoid killing another human.

Bloody Lasgun in hand, she impaled a trooper in the back who was trying to save herself by crawling away from Grim. Bodies set aflame ran or spun in place like a twisted painting made real by Warpcraft. The fire snaked into the bunkers connected to the trench to coerce the defending PDF to flee in fear from the inhumane weapons. This agony from the battle fuel the Dark Goddess, that the rebels were tricked into worshiping for their deaths. Even the most zealot cultist amidst the PDF couldn’t survive against a flamer. Shocking to see for Grim, there was a sadistic smile on a Dixien using a flamer to clear out a foxhole and wearing a helmet with the words “Born to Grill”. Two PDF troopers walked out of a bunker slowly next to Grim, coughing out the toxic smoke and hands rose to surrender. Pointing the Las-gun at them, she asked “Sarg! We have two POWs from this here bunker, what do I do with them?” Sarg only shot one of the troopers in the head then said: “Hassle to drag them back to the LZ, no prisoners this day girl!”

The fast answer caused Grim to look back at the trooper who she was aiming then filling him with Lasbolts. “G-got it, Sarg,” she said while lowering her head in shame. Some other Guardsmen not risking death, decided to clear out the bunkers via grenades. Ranchboy came running up to Sarg and Grim with some frustrating news, “The ammo caches are gone!” Sarg shot back a look of confusion then saying “What do you mean they’re gone!?” The vox caster explained that the PDF must have cleared out the supplies from Hill 558 yesterday under the cover of darkness. The officer threw his cap to the ground in anger and stomped on it as he shouted “Warp-shit!” The two Guardsmen next to him backed off before he cooled down.

“Grim, take Jester and triple check those supply bunkers,”

“What should I check for?” questioned Jester as she played around with her Lasgun.

“Literally anything useful, food, water, ammo, or intel,”

“Anything,”

“Anything, then bring it back to me. We might be able to salvage this mess.”

“Come on new girl, follow me,” told Jester to Grim, “I know where these bunkers are.” The two of them walked off when the battle practically died off. “So, why do they call you Jester?” asked Grim. She answered “Before you ask, I don’t know how to juggle or tell a joke. My real name is Jesse. I’m just clumsy enough that everybody in the squad to laugh at,” sighing at the number of times everybody laughed. “Oh, Jesse is a nice name,” Grim said after she saw a few troopers dragged out of foxholes to be executed. “Why, thank you” she replied to bring Grim’s mind back to the conversation. The soft voice from Jester broke the weird spell Grim was under to make her remember something. “They made the daemon so much stronger than a man,” whispered Grim under her breath.

Entering the first bunker, Jester asked: “What did you say, I didn’t catch that.” Grim looked over the trooper body near the bunker before saying “Nothing, just thinking out loud from the song ‘Warpfire’ back when I was a kid.” Inspecting the room, they looked over everything and rounded up every scrap of paper they can find. Wishing the papers might be Intel, Grim was about to take them back to Sarg. She was standing at the exit when she asked, “Are you sure you don’t need my help?” caring to make sure Jester didn’t get into trouble. Jester was opening a small box while answering “Don’t worry about it,” then taking a peek inside to see a foot size mortar shell.

“R-run!” was the last thing Grim heard before she saw Jester running toward her and dropping the box. It explodes to slice Jester right in half from the middle of her stomach down. Even standing further away from the shell, Grim was still hit by the trap. Papers were thrown in the air as she suddenly fell down. There was an absence of any feeling from her foot. Grim curiously looked at her foot to only find out everything below her kneecaps were blown off. “Oh” was the last words uttered by Carol Gretadotir before darkness finally caught up her eyes. Both the Guardsmen lay bleeding on the floor motionless on this forsaken Warphole and forgot what they were fighting for.