Editing 97th Conglomerate's Tyrannic War (section)

== Day 1 ==
=== Part 1: Into The Valley of Death ===
The light wasn’t particularly bright. As a matter-of-fact, it was remarkably dull and gray, seeming to be endless, gray cloud banks for as far as the eye could see in any direction. However, compared to the barely lit interior of the platoon’s lander, the dull light that flooded in as the ramp opened had practically blinded Samson. His eyes adjusted to the light until he saw the hellish state of Terragrad Hive. Buildings were little more than hollow shells of the grandiose structures they once had been; roads had been cratered and blasted, almost impassable except for military vehicles and equipment. Artillery batteries and their crews worked tirelessly, running to a constant rhythm of load, fire, reload, fire, repeat. Earthshaker platforms let loose thunderous barrages of shells, lobbing them in high arcs towards the frontline. It was a desperate-looking defense if Samson ever saw one. 

He and the squad were already up and kitting before the ramp had lowered all the way. Compared to the rest of her squad, Natasha was packed very lightly. She carried her weapons, a few autopistol magazines in pouches, and a single, small backpack that maybe could’ve held a few school books. The whole platoon was hurrying urgently, as they had to get to the frontlines as soon as possible. The landing zone FOB was about 2 kilometers from the Aegis Defense Line on the city outskirts.

“Move it, lads! MOVE IT!” Natasha barked at her men, who faced out of the lander, anticipating disembarkation. 

The first Chimera, ''This End Up'', rolled out from underneath the troop deck onto the ramp. It stopped for a moment, opening its top hatch. The platoon commander and his squad jumped down into their Chimera with a mad sense of enthusiasm. The hatch slammed closed and the APC rolled down the ramp, the machine spirit roaring with excitement. He felt another roll under his squad’s place. 

“GO, GO, GO!” Natasha bellowed. The squad jumped forth into the hold of another Chimera, just as red and dirtied as the others. 

Samson hesitated to jump, but Hanz pushed him off the edge; there was no time to be wasted waiting for rookies’ nerves. He crumpled onto the metal floor of the vehicle just in time to look up and roll out of the way of the Krieger. His legs ached as Natasha was the last one in. The hatch gave a loud clang as it shut and the APC began to rumble down the metal ramp of the lander. It could be felt once it rolled onto solid ground. 

The dark, noisy interior of the tank provided nothing but greater levels of stressful anticipation. Samson finally managed to roll onto his chest and push himself off the floor. He took a seat right between Natasha and Hanz, his hands still shaking. He bounced a leg to try and let the pent-up energy out without inhibiting his abilities in combat. He had completely zoned-out for a few moments, so much so that he failed to realize Natasha was trying to talk to him. 

“SAMSON!” She finally barked in his ear. His attention finally snapped to her; her eyes were deep with concern. They just gazed at each other for a moment, exchanging something words couldn’t communicate. She finally started again, her voice firm but calming and comforting. “Samson, I need to know that I can count on you for the fight.”

“You can, ma’am.” He replied, secretly unsure of himself. He had only ever seen fuzzy vox-films of Tyranids, and even then they were terrifying. “No need to worry.” He forced a smile for her sake, trying to put her at ease. She wasn’t so easily fooled. 

“I trust the men in this tank with my life, because I’ve known them for years.” She tried to sound gruff and surly, but her eyes still gave him sympathy. “I don’t know you like I know them. We aren’t gonna just watch your arse while ours get ripped part because you’re the new guy.”

“Understood, ma’am.” He replied confidently, feeling that it was about more than just him and Natasha. There were 11 other men in the hull of this vehicle. They all had lives. Stories. Feelings. Personalities. Names. For all Samson knew, some of them might’ve even had families. They rode the rest of the way in silence.

=== Part 2: An Enemy Without Number ===

==== 1703 Hours – Local Time ====

The Chimeras rumbled, but not loud enough to drown out the cacophony just outside their hulls. Samson had been mentally preparing himself since he last spoke about 5 minutes earlier. He realized he had to, because the squad was a unit; they all had to watch each other’s backs. Just beyond that hatch was absolute bedlam. He could hear what was most likely the Planetary Defense Force fighting and dying for their home. 

“Dropping chalk in 60 seconds!” The driver bellowed over his shoulder. The noise outside intensified as the driver then yelled at someone next to him in the front. “You need to get on the turret!” A callous-looking man whose face was covered in grease stains hopped past the seat and up into the rotating chair of the weapon controls. The high-pitched, oscillating whine of the multi-las rang in Samson’s ears. “You, start letting loose with the heavy bolter!” The hull-mounted weapon chugged with pleasure as it unleash mass-reactive bolts into the unseen enemy outside. Samson looked back at Natasha, whose finger was pressed to her ear, listening to her command bead. 

“Reports are coming in!” She informed the squad, who was anxious for any information on the enemy. They all leaned inward to listen to her. “The PDF are getting slaughtered; multiple line breaches all along the front! We are gonna have one hell of a feckin’ mop-up to do!” 

Grayson turned the valve on his heavy flamer, the pilot-light igniting blue at the end of its muzzle. Samson rammed a magazine into his rifle and racked the charging handle, giving it a satisfying clack that was answered with that of the other men in the Chimera. Each man muttered litanies under his breath, pleading to the machine spirits of their rifles that they should not fail them in combat. Natasha slid a long, thin clip into the handle of her autopistol and yanked the firing mechanism on the top of the receiver. She then unhooked her chainsword and pumped the trigger a few times before the vicious weapon revved to life. 

“Pile out and fan out, five-meter-spread!” She bellowed over the thrumming of the APC as the driver indicated 30 seconds left. “Check your lines of fire, watch your battle-chum. You know your pairings!”

“What about me, ma’am?” Samson called over the ceaseless din. 

“Samson, you’re with Hanz!” She turned her head to reply, then nodding to the Krieger. The grenadier rotated the underslung grenade launcher of his autogun, making sure there were no hooks or jams. The rifle’s profile was dominated by the bulk of the secondary fire-support weapon. The driver called back one more time, his voice barely audible over the engine and the whine of the multi-las and the chugging of the heavy bolter. 

“10 SECONDS!” Suddenly there was a loud clang outside the hull and the vehicle rocked violently from the impact. Their forward momentum stopped dead as the left track could be heard crumpling off its gears. “We’ve been tracked! Pile out! Pile out!” 

“Emperor Protect Us!” Natasha punched the door’s control rune, and the ramp at the rear of the vehicle dropped outwards. The nearest man to the door was Dimitri… 

A long, red, scythe-like talon swung inwards and impaled Dimitri, yanking him out of the hull. Grayson gave a cry of anger and simply let a gout of promethium fury pour into the xenos horde. The white-hot flames stuck to everything they touched, charring flesh and chitin. The squad gave a collective roar and charged down the ramp, letting loose a thunderous clatter of gunfire from their rifles. The first ones out hit the dirt and dropped to a knee, letting the half-embarked part of the squad let loose with rifles and support weapons. Natasha stood at the front of the vanguard, unloading her autopistol into the onrushing Tyranids, their scuttling forms quickly filling the gap left by the heavy flamer’s first sweep. 
They were ugly creatures. The xenos’ flesh was dark in colour, like a midnight blue or black. Their bones and natural chitinous plating were an offensive red colour, like a starker version of the 97th’s own armour. Their alien, predatory eyes were a sickly, bright yellow, and seemed to lack pupils as if they were looking everywhere all at once. They disgusted Samson to his very core; to the very center of his soul. Samson would purge them, and be shone under His Light, as He watches over all. 

“Reloading!” Natasha was the first to make the call. She had spent the first clip of her autopistol faster than she expected, and was now forced to trace long arcs with her chainsword as, one after another, the hound- and wolf-sized Tyranids leaped at her with feral looks. 

Grayson stepped forward with the heavy flamer and made a wide swath of charred corpses while Natasha had a moment to slide a new mag into her pistol. She stood between Hanz and Samson while they unloaded their rifles into the last straggling bugs. Hanz thumbed a rune on his grenade launcher, pumped, and fired a single 25mm frag grenade into a group of them; their bodies shredded and thrown aside. PDF troopers were seen just beyond the bugs, recovering from their setback and now advancing to take back the Aegis line. They, too, wielded autoguns (as is so common among PDFs), and let lead belch forth into the savage and wild creatures that were hellbent on consuming this world. 

Samson’s rifle clicked as his mag finally emptied, but instead of reloading he charged towards the nearest ‘Nid. Others in the squad followed, ramming their bayonets into the alien flesh. One bug got almost on top of Natasha, but she held it up with her sword arm while she shoved the muzzle of the autopistol into its gut and tore into it with a single burst, throwing it off of her once it ceased to move. Several of the men swung impaled bugs into the others of their brood, but then several larger member of the horde advanced from around the tank (which was still letting loose into the rest of onrushing beasts). They stood at full height, almost a full head taller than Samson and towering entirely over Natasha’s height. They wielded vicious-looking, pointed weapons that seemed built into the creatures. 

Once they rounded the corner of the tanks hull, they unleashed a torrent of needle-like projectiles from the weapons’ many muzzles. The couple of Cadian squad members were immediately cut down in the volley; each round hitting just the right angle to shred through their carapace armour. The rest of the squad weaved out of the fire’s way and were forced to fight the coming enemy from two directions. Samson took the second of time he had to slap a fresh magazine into his rifle. Hanz let out another frag grenade into the brood of warriors, but they all but ignored the shrapnel, flinching for only a moment at the blast. Samson saw an opening.

“Covering fire!” He called as he ducked and charged under the warriors’ fire, holding his rifle with both hands low to the ground. 

A few of the remaining squad members fired bursts into new brood while Grayson and Azeem continued to fend off the smaller Guants. Samson got so close to the warriors that the first one didn’t have time to react to the serrated blade that pierced between its visible ribs. Samson threw all of his weight into the thrust, trying to shift the xenos monstrosity of its balance. It toppled on its side, but it took mere seconds for it to come close to throwing Samson clean off of it. He shoved the rifle in just a bit deeper before unleashing a long 7- or 8-round burst rip apart the foul thing’s insides. A guttural war cry bellowed from the bottom of the Guardsman’s lungs; an absolutely primal call of combat. 

The warrior he’d run down went limp and Samson brought his head back up to see the other two already bringing their vicious weaponry to bare on him. But as their muscles tensed to fire, they were thrown to the ground by the weight of 6 guardsmen piling in to them. Hanz had thrown every ounce of momentum he had into the Emperor-damned xenos warrior. Despite being a rather thin man, the Krieger had an impressively deceptive level of physical strength, and he stood no more than 6 inches shorter than the warrior. While it hadn’t fully fallen over, Natasha threw on her weight, and that was just enough. The rest of the squad took on the other warrior. Together they finished off the creatures, delivering the Emperor’s fury upon them.