Editing Warhammer High (section)

==Furia's Failed Date==
"WHERE IS MY DAUGHTER! WHERE ARE YOU HIDING HER!"

The snarling voice of Angron reverberated through the hospital as he crashed through ward after ward, flinging aside those doctors and nurses who dared to stand in his way.

"FURIAAAAA? FURIA? WHERE ARE YOU?"

"I'm here Dad."

Furia leant heavily against the tiled wall, the bandages around her head hiding her shock of hair.

"My God, Furia, what happened to you?"

Angron's voice trembled slightly, the furious anger draining away in shock as he saw his injured daughter. Furia shuffled towards him, eyes watery, and clasped herself around his leg just as she had when she was just a girl.

"Oh Dad... I was out with Si..."

"SO THIS IS HIS FAULT! I'LL KILL HIM! I'LL KIIILLL HIM FOR HURTING YOU! WHERE IS HE?! WHEERE IS HEEEE?!"

"He's through there but Dad, wait! Please!"

Angron was in a killing mood. He wrenched a cleaver like knife from his boot and stalked towards the dark room where his daughter's boyfriend was supposed to be. He kicked the door off its hinges and bellowed a challenge.

"YOU CANNOT HIDE, MAGGOT! I AM ANGRON AND I AM... YOUR... death?"

The room's occupant was mummified in plaster casts. Blood and painkillers were pumped into him from gently beeping machines. Angron's slab like face creased up in confusion until he heard his daughter speak.

"We were coming back from the movies. We got... attacked. These gang guys. Wanted money. Guy hit me over the head with a lead pipe while I was whaling on his friend. When I came to, Si was like this."

She sniffed and wiped her eyes on the hem of her hospital gown.

"The witnesses said he kept trying to protect me. He tried to hold them off, but they were much stronger than him. He wanted to make sure I was OK."

Angron blinked, uneasy at this sudden twist of fate.

"How... is he... is he going to be OK?"

Furia's lip trembled as she tried to hold back the tears, but it was too much. She fell weeping into her father's strong arms.

"They... the doctors... they... they don't kno-o-o-ow!"

Angron stroked his daughters head and murmered to her gently to calm her down. Anyone who did not know him as his daughter did would have been surprised at the gentility of the monstrous man.

As soon as he had soothed his daughter and directed her back to her own room, Angron made his way outside, stopping only to threaten a doctor with disembowelment if the young man he had just seen did not recover. Outside, he reached into his pocket for a mobile phone and slowly punched in a number with his meaty fingers. He was not raging. He was beyond simple anger. He had crossed deep into the levels of calm fury beyond that.

"Is that Kiara? Hi Kiara. Is your Dad there? I need to talk to him urgently."

Kurz put down the phone with exaggerated care. He paused, lost in thought for a moment, and then smiled slightly.

"Kiara?"

"Yeah Dad?"

"Some thing's come up. I have to go to work. Will you be OK on your own?"

"'Course. As if anyone's going to break in after what happened last time."

"Ha. Yeah. Good times."

"Dad... I heard uncle Angron on the phone. He seemed... quiet. Is everything OK?"

The Night Haunter paused uneasily, a razor sharp meathook in hand. He didn't like to involve his daughter in the family business.

"Do you know about a young man named Simon? He's stepping out with Furia, apparently."

"Yeah, a bit. Didn't think he'd be her type, but he seems nice enough. Why?"

"He's in hospital. Furia too. Mugging."

"Oh God."

"Yes. They're not sure if Simon's going to pull through."

There was silence from the den before Kiara spoke again.

"... Dad."

"Yes honey?"

"Don't forget your toolbox."

~Later That Night~

The cinema where Furia and Simon had visited was situated down town. The area had gone downhill in recent years, urban decay and crime claiming an area that had once been fashionable. The muggy, humid night air was alive with the thumping bass of loud music and the distant sound of fights breaking out. From his position in the gloomy shadows of an ally, the Night Haunter could sense a thousand different tastes and sensations on the air, from the pungent perfume dancing about a street walker to the acid tang of vomit pooling in a gutter. He could sense the lingering outlines of where Furia and the boy had been, and the fresh young blood spilled on the pavement. But what most interested him was a single delicate scent that teased his sense like the scent summer flower. Fear. Fear, strong and close.

It was but the work of moments to track down its source. An apartment overlooking the street where the mugging had taken place. The fat man inside had clearly been the witness who had seen what had happened. Kurz adjusted his hat, put down his toolbox, and knocked at the door. A nervous voice called out from inside.

"Who is it?"

"You can think of me as a concerned parent." said the Night Haunter, slipping off his gloves and examining his claw like nails. "I just want to go over the details of an incident you observed earlier tonight."

Behind the door, Kurz heard the sound of shotgun being loaded. He smiled slightly.

"Go away, man! I ain't talking to no pig. Back off. I got rights.."

"Oh, but sir, I'm just a concerned parent. I certainly wouldn't want any police here. I just want a friendly conversation, that's all. Is that really too much to ask? Perhaps if I came in..."

The door burst open as the fat man came blasting out with the shotgun. The corridor was empty. There was no sign that anyone had ever been there. The man relaxed. Then he heard a mocking whisper in his ear.

"Too slow."

~Still Later~

"Angron? Yes. Turns out it was the local pill peddler. They were his clients, apparently. Didn't want the police to get involved, so he was decidedly unhelpful. Hmm? Oh no, he talked to me. Positively babbled. They hole up in an abandoned hotel on first and tenth. You can't miss it... oh of course. Wouldn't miss this for the world. You go on ahead, I'll catch up. A few loose ends to tie up."

The night haunter snapped the phone shut and returned to his task.

"Where were we... ah yes, we were discussing your future. Tell me... do you remember those old anti-drug messages? They weren't very effective, were they?"

Kurz positioned the nail and raised the huge mallet in his hand.

"You, on the other hand, are going to be a much, much better spokesman. You see, if thing I've learned as a parent it's that if you can't set a good example..."

Kurz snarled and brought the hammer came down with a sickening crunch.

"...you can serve as a terrible warning."

~Meanwhile~

In the hospital day room Vulkan and Guiliman sat in front of a flickering television in chairs designed for much smaller men. Guiliman sipped water, the plastic cup seeming comically tiny in his hand. They had been discussing their niece and her boyfriend.

"How is he?"

"Hard to say." shrugged Vulkan. "The doctors aren't telling us anything. It's serious though. The parents have agreed to let Magnus try and reach him. They wouldn't do that unless there was something very wrong."

"Oh no. Poor boy. How's Furia taken the news?"

"Not well. Most of the girls are with her now, or on their way. Lorgar and Athena are in the Chapel, praying for the boy with his mother and father. They feel they can be of more use there."

"We're such a close family."

Vulkan shrugged again.

"It's the right thing to do, Roboute. It shouldn't matter if they're family, we should care for all who fall protecting the innocent"

"I suppose so. On that subject of family, where's Angron?. It's not right to leave his daughter's side at a time like this. Why, if it was Roberta... well, suffice it to say that I would not leave her side for an instant."

Vulkan shifted uncomfortably.

"I... am not sure. Furia says he was here, but he left again. I believe Horus is trying to track him down. You know Angron. He can't stand sitting still."

"Hah! Yes, I can believe that. Probably got bored and wandered off, the brute."

Vulkan said nothing. He suspected he knew exactly what Angron was doing, but the less Guilliman knew of his whereabouts the better. He didn't approve of his brother's methods, but he knew for damn sure he wasn't going to let Guiliman interfere.

"I'm going to find Dorn, help him repair the damage our dear brother caused. Perturabo said he was going to do it, but he had to leave suddenly. You coming?"

"Sure. Least I can do, under the circumstances."

Magnus the Red loomed next to the bed as still as a statue, his hand resting on the bandaged forehead of the boy lying there. To a casual observer nothing appeared to be happening, but the thin patina of frost forming on the metal bedstead spoke otherwise. The Cyclops' hidden might was focussed entirely upon the frail figure before him, a last desperate attempt to rekindle the soul of the child that had almost given his life for his niece's. He was failing. Simon was dying.

Magnus drew himself together and probed deeper. He would not be denied this. He would combat this threat at close quarters. Closing his eyes, the Sorcerer reached out with his astral form and touched the flickering soul of the boy. 

Magnus reopened his eyes. The hospital room had disappeared, to be replaced by a twisted and distorted parody of a city street. The sky above boiled as lightning shot clouds scudded high above, red tinted stormlight casting too-long shadows. Across the street a neon lit cinema sign flickered intermittently, advertising a series of violent films. Magnus realised that this must have been the place where Simon and Furia had been attacked, seen through the warped memories of someone who had suffered terribly there.

The psyker was jolted from his reverie by a whispering voice.

"Who are you? You don't belong here." 

Magnus turned, but saw nothing. He spoke gently.

"Spirit... my name is Magnus. I'm here to help."

The ghostly voice laughed softly.

"Too late for that. See the shadows?"

The furthest ends of the street were now completely dark., crawling shadows climbing slowly up buildings and shrouding them in cold darkness.

"They will be here soon. They couldn't kill them before, so they came back."

"Kill who, spirit?"

"Those two"

At these words, the door to the cinema collapsed into a fine dust that blew away on an ethereal wind. From the darkness stepped Furia and Simon. But just as the street appeared differently here, so too did they. Simon appeared smaller than he did in real life, his features obscured and hard to see, as though hidden by thick fog. By contrast, Furia glowed with red light, somehow more real than anything else here. She looked taller and stronger than she truly did, and more beautiful too. The scars and imperfections that marred her face had melted away, and her smile was not the irritating smirk that Magnus was used to but a beaming grin that lit up her whole face. As he strode towards the couple, the voice spoke in his ear.

"Young love. He sees her as so much more than what others do. An ideal. She does not truly feel the same way."

For a moment Magnus caught a glimpse of another face beneath the smiling countenance of the girl, one marked by irritation and boredom.

"Spirit, you know more of this than I do. How did this all come to pass? How did these two come together?"

The voice sighed.

"He has long held feelings for the girl. They are of the same age, and of the same class, but she has only recently noticed him. She was failing her assignments, he was tutoring her. She sees this as some kind of reward for his services. He sees it as a date. He will soon tell her how he feels. She will soon laugh. And then..."
"What spirit? What then?"

"It ends."

On the top floor of the hospital, Perturabo heard the voice of his daughter.

"Dad, people are beginning to ask where you are- why are you building a large bore artillery piece?"

"Because I was asked to by your Uncle Angron, Petra. That is all you need to know." he said impassively.

"Oh."

Perturabo worked steadily for another few minutes before becoming aware that the girl had not left.

"Do you require anything else of me, daughter?"

"No, I just... never mind."

"Speak. Whatever it is you wish to say is clearly important enough for you to waste your time and mine."

"I just wanted to ask if I could help, that was all. But don't worry about it, I'll go back downstairs."

Petra was just about to close the door again when she heard the Iron Warrior speak.

"There is a welding torch in the case over there. Lock that door and come make use of it, please."

"Yes, Father!"

------

The Astoria Plaza hotel had seen better days. Once a jewel of a building, its façade of white marble gleaming white and its legions of staff oiling through polished halls with industrious pride, it now squatted in the decaying wasteland of the downtown area. Its magnificent windows were boarded shut and covered with metal grates, its doors barred and its walls covered in gang signs and years of graffiti. Where the rich and powerful had once rested in well-appointed rooms, the gang members of the Six Points Squad lurked. The location gave them a perfect stronghold from which to rule this neighbourhood. It's only working entrance was heavily secured, and a glimpse through the barred windows into what had been the lobby revealed a killing ground designed to halt a frontal assault in its tracks.

Angron contemplated the building in front of him from a position in the shadows. He had seen the gang assemble for the night, heard the pounding beat of music and raucous voices singing and shouting and smelt the mixed aromas of fried food and strong liquor. Bright light shined from an upper room through the boarded windows. The thugs were enjoying themselves, secure in the knowledge that they were safe. They believed that they were untouchable. They were wrong.

Angron nodded to himself as he finally decided upon a plan. Few of his brothers would credit the berserker with tactical nuance, refusing to see him as anything more than a crude brute. What they failed to realise was that Angron's simplicity was not stupidity. It was directness. It was efficiency. It was homicidal bravery. Only those who were afraid that they might fail bothered to sneak and hide. A true warrior faced his enemies head on. Angron stepped forward, roared a challenge at the top of his lungs and hefted a parked car into the air. With the guided precision an orbital strike, the vehicle arced through the air towards the upper floor, tearing through glass, metal and concrete as though it were little more than cardboard. While the building's inhabitants screamed and shouted in alarm, Angron charged forward and began to climb up the wall towards the hole he had made. The assault had begun.

------

In the mind of a boy named Simon, Magnus the Red also prepared for battle. The encroaching darkness oozed against fine filigreed walls of frosty white psychic energy, a magical cage of light to hold it at bay long enough for the cyclops to ready himself. The astral spectres of Furia and Simon, memories drawn from events that occurred only hours ago, ignored him completely, engrossed as they were in a pantomime of a conversation.

As Magnus sat on the grey steps behind them, meditating and focussing his energy, the whispery voice came to him.

"Why are you doing this? The ending is already written. There is nothing that can be done. These events are mere shadows of what has been already seen and done. Choices were made that can never be unmade. There is no hope."

"Wrong." growled the psyker. "There is always hope. The future is not written. I know it. I know I can save him."

"Words. They mean nothing. And your walls are already breaking."

Magnus felt rather than saw the hammering blows that assailed his defences. Their delicate, frost -like patterns pulsed and glowed as something beat against them. Although the murky shadows denied him the sight of his enemies, he caught glimpses of the foe with his witch sight - cold eyes glinting with baleful intent, the flash of an absurdly sharp knife as it struck the walls holding it back.

"Red Man, this is the boy's nemesis. You cannot fight his fate. This is not your battle. Sooner or later, you will have to realise this."

"Spirit, while I draw breath, I shall not allow this child to die. The doom that comes for him is conjured by his own mind, by his feelings of despair and failure. He can overcome them. He MUST overcome them."

Magnus stood and raised his hands, summoning baleful blue fire that burned cold around his fingers.

"And I will show him how."

Magnus lowered his defences and charged at the surging shadows.

------

"Ohshiohshiohshiohshiohshiiiiiiiiii!"

Kaz squealed as he fled down the halls away from the devastation. Only twenty minutes ago it had been a perfect night. They had all the drugs, loose women, and, thanks to the mugging of some teenagers earlier that evening, the money to make the night go with bang.

Then the explosion happened. The screams began. Kaz had been in his room entertaining some woman he had picked up in a bar somewhere when he heard the first blast, and the shouts of the first men on the scene. He could remember struggling into his clothes and tumbling after them half-dressed. He heard again Zack shouting something about a car and fires and the horrible gurgling shriek that marked the end of his life. Over and over again he saw himself coming to the blasted threshold of the door and seeing through the smoke and flames the enormous monster seizing his friend, lifting it above its head and tearing him in half. As the blood and viscera rained down upon it, the creature's eyes met Kaz's. In their yellow orbs Kaz saw his death. He had run, not even attempting to fire upon it. Whatever the creature was could not be stopped by mundane weapons.

That hadn't stopped his gang mates from trying though. The sound of gunfire and more screams echoed around the building, as well as the savage roars of the maddened beast charging at its attackers. It was unstoppable. Kaz knew it. His only hope lay in flight. A few people had already tried to leave via the main exit, but had found it blocked from the outside by an iron bar far too large for a man to lift pressed against it. As they had pounded against it, desperate to escape their doom, the monster had come for them. Kaz had heard it coming and had hurled himself into a dark corner, trying with all his might not to breathe out. He was sure that the giant figure had spotted him, but it had carried on past him, swinging an axe with practiced ease as it walked almost casually towards its prey. The men and women at the door had screamed and tried to run, but it was no use. The giant was upon them, hacking, slashing and tearing through them like a hurricane filled with razorblades. Arterial blood sprayed everywhere, painting the walls and floor with sticky crimson gore, the defences that they had erected to keep intruders out now serving to pen them in with their nemesis. The giant had shouted as he murdered them, the booming sound carrying over the slaughter and the gurgles of the dying, crying over and over words that sounded almost distressed.

"YOU DID THIS! YOU HURT HER! YOU WILL DIE! YOU WILL ALL DIE FOR THIS!"

Kaz could not imagine anything that his gang could have done to earn the ire of this beast, and did not intend to stay long enough to find out exactly what it meant. He had a plan. Fleeing through the old service corridors away from the sounds of combat, he headed downwards. There was a back door in what had been the hotel's kitchen. Kaz had been assigned to bar it shut, but he had never bothered to finish the job. It hadn't seemed likely that it would ever be a problem. Now, as he ran full pelt through grimy passageways thick with dust, his feet skidding across the wood, he was thankful for his indolence. It was perhaps the only thing that would save him now.

In moments he was on the threshold. He grappled with the door, frantically turning the lock and pulling at the deadbolt. He could hear something coming closer and closer behind him, the roar of the beast accompanied by the regular crash of exploding mortar. The monster was nearly upon him.
"Please!" he screamed as he wrenched at the handle. "Please, for the love of God open!"

With a shuddering jolt, the door slammed free and Kaz stumbled forwards onto the night. He tried to get up, but in some dimly understood part of his brain, the young man realised something was very wrong. The rank smell of blood was even stronger out here than it was inside, and the pools of gutter water gleamed scarlet in the fluorescent orange city light. Before he could so much as scream, a huge, dark shadow that eclipsed the light loomed over him. With snakelike speed he was hoisted into the air and brought face to face with a creature from his darkest nightmares. As his overworked heart finally gave out, the ganger just had time to hear a mouth full of sharp teeth whisper into his ear

"Boo."

----

Magnus the Red fought in the centre of a howling vortex of psychic energy, his curving sword cutting through the shadowy figures emerging from the swirling darkness. It was an impossible battle. The darkness oozed around him, the amorphous shapes clinging to the memory of the street and forming and reforming as he cut through them. Every ward he threw up was broken or methodically worked around, and even with his prodigious strength at arms, small clawed hands still managed to strike at him. Magnus himself being forced back, ever closer to the two ghostly figures of Furia and Simon. With every step back, the dark creatures harassing him grew stronger and more solid, drawing together to form the shapes of men in heavy coats, clubs dragging behind them. From beneath hooded tops, small white eyes filled with horrible purpose stared unblinking through Magnus at Furia and Simon. Magnus struck at them again and again, but the advance of the shadow creatures seemed inevitable. As another of his blows was thrown aside by length of pipe that seemed to be becoming more real with every passing second, Magnus snarled in anger.

"This is unnatural! These creatures do not belong here!"

"They are his personal demons, warrior. I told you this. Whether they were always here or only appeared after he fought and lost is irrelevant. They have come for him. Why do you delay the inevitable?"

"More importantly, why do you seek to stop me, spirit? Are you with them? Are you responsible for this? Show yourself!"

The whispering voice ignored Magnus.

"Look behind you, warrior. The memories play out. The past becomes the present."

Magnus punched the closest shadow as hard as he could in its hooded face and risked a glance behind him. The conversation between Furia and Simon seemed to be becoming more animated. The irritable face of the girl that the Cyclops recognised appeared on the doll like figure that stood before Simon, and the voices of the teenagers began to be heard growing ever louder. An argument seemed to be in progress.

"What? You and me? Get real."

"But... what about tonight? I thought we-"

"Listen, I was just repaying your favour, alright? I was just trying to be nice. Didn't think you'd have any stupid ideas about this being a date. "

"I... I..."

The memory of Furia scoffed and spat on the grey pavement, the angelic veil evaporating to reveal the girl as she looked in the real world, flushed and angry.

"Look at you. Are you going to cry? Please. As if a weakling like you stood a chance with me."

"I am not a weakling!"

"Oh yeah? Prove it. Go on. Hit me."

"What? I'm not going to fight you."

"Pfft. Coward. Won't even fight a giiiiirrrrl."

"I am not a coward! I'm not going to fight you because... because..."

"Go on, say it." sneered Furia. "Because woo wuv me!"

The gathering shadows wrapped themselves around the couple, draining all colour from the scene, while the figures continued to argue obliviously.

"NO! I... I.... I'm not going to because I like you! I thought there was more to you than just... just violence! You're not the dumb bully they say you are!"

"Who says I'm dumb? It's gotta be Big Berta..."

"Look, no, I mean...fine. Maybe I was wrong."

"Yeah." said the memory of Furia, a note of sadness breaking through the anger. "Maybe you were."

As the girl padded away, the shadows detached themselves from their hiding places and followed her, becoming more solid with every second until they had formed into hulking, night-black figures. Magnus glanced at the shade of Simon shaking and spluttering on the steps, confused as to why his demons had not attacked, but the sound of grating voices speaking in harmony drew his eyes back to the figure of his niece. As one, the dark creatures began to harass the girl.

"HEY GIRL. HEY RED. WHERE ARE YOU GOING RED. COME BACK. WE JUST WANT TO TALK."

"Back off."

"COME ON, DON'T BE LIKE THAT RED. A LITTLE RESPECT DIDN'T HURT NOBODY. "

"Get out of my face."

"OR WHAT?"

"Or this happens"

Furia's fist arced around and slammed into the face of one of the creatures, the inky matter splashing apart before it was reabsorbed by its fellows.

"OOH. FIGHT. FIGHT. FIGHT. FIGHT."

The creatures attacked as one, the distinct shapes of individual thugs melting into one another in a shifting mass of dark limbs and grinning teeth. Furia fought well, but her blows did little damage, the mass of the emergent creature shifting and swirling about her. First one shadowy tendril struck her, and then another and another. The girl was forced back, but refused to give up, lunging forward with murder in her eyes. But she was not the warrior her father was. She was struck from behind and tumbled to the ground. The dark entity engulfed her like an ocean wave and she was soon lost from sight in the mass.

As Magnus moved to intervene, the shade of Simon howled and charged past him.

"Leave her alone!"

The creature (or was it creatures?) shifted and looked at the boy with dozens of half-formed eyes, grinning teeth emerging from the smoky darkness to smile menacingly. Magnus knew that this was the pivotal moment, the moment this entire dream quest had been building to. The boy faced his own demons, the manifestations of his own guilt and despair for being unable to save his friend, but alone he would surely fall. Alone he was powerless to resist. He needed help. He needed allies.

Magnus the Red pulled the strands of his power together and sent out a single message into the aether as he charged forward. Two words with enough force behind them to register to even the bluntest mind.

FURIA. COME.

----

The remaining gangbangers ran screaming toward the top floor. Only three had survived the events of the night so far, among them the leader, a man named Wayne. Wayne had been busy getting drunk when the screaming had first started, but had sobered up with lightning speed when he saw the blood.

It had been awful. Nothing had prepared him for the scene of carnage which he had found in the now deserted state room. Some had died when a car had somehow crashed through the windowed facade of the upper room, their bodies instantly pulped by the hurtling metal and the jagged spears of broken glass. They were, perhaps, the lucky ones. The survivors had been torn apart as though by a frenzied animal, blood and gore spattering the decaying plaster of the walls. Someone had been able to fire off a shot from their pistol - the weapon had been crushed through the man's chest. The beast that had done this had then slunk off deeper into the building leaving a wide trail of blood and viscera.

As Wayne stumbled away from the horror, his terrified mind filled only with the thought of escape, the laughter began. Soft at first, but growing louder by the moment, the sinister chuckling seemed to come from all directions at once, a rough, ugly sound that no human throat could possibly have produced. The laughter was soon joined by a delicate scraping noise dancing just at the edge of perception, the sound of a long knife brushing delicately across concrete.

Wayne had fled upstairs, away from the screaming, away from the mad laughter. He had rallied a few of his men on the way, the small group dazed and confused by the sudden attack. Two had been sent back the way he had come, and told to shoot anything that moved. They barely had time to scream before they were attacked, but Wayne didn't care. Escape was the only thing on his mind. Perhaps if he could get onto the roof, he could somehow get away! Only one more flight of stairs to climb and he was free! As if sensing the flicker of hope blazing in his heart, the building echoed to the bestial roar of the monster. Wayne shrieked and shoved the gang members with him out of the way, knocking them to the hard floor in his panic.

"No! They won't get me! They won't!"

Wayne didn't listen to their howls of pain and betrayal as he burst through the skylight door, bracing it shut with a beam of rotting wood. It wouldn't hold for long, but if he was lucky it wouldn't have to. The edge of the roof was so tantalisingly close, and beyond it was a wrought iron fire escape. He could do it! He could escape this nightmare!

It was at this point Angron came through the floor. Exploding through the aging concrete and timber as though it were nothing more than a papier-mâché shell, the World Eater roared to the night sky a bellowing shout of furious exultation. He had found his prey. The Primarch's massive fist clenched around Wayne's throat and hoisted him bodily into the air. The gang leader found himself looking directly into the mad eyes of the hell beast that was slowly choking the life out of him, the blood shot pools of insane, unquenchable hatred boring directly into his soul. He heard the door behind him shatter and an awful, frightening voice speak.

"Brother, wait..."

As he slipped into unconsciousness, the voice continued.

"We're not done with him yet."

-----

Magnus fought with all his might to reach Simon, but it was no use. The unnatural shadows resisted his every effort, and for every one that he cut down another two replaced it. The spectral form of Simon fought bravely, but his soul light was guttering and failing as blows rained down upon. Magnus knew that the boy's physical body was failing as his soul died. Nothing could stop it. The despair and guilt over his failure to protect the woman he loved was overwhelming him, the psychic wounds murdering him as surely as if they came from real bats and blades. The circle of life and light around the boy diminished faster and faster until he was just a vibrant splash of colour in an endless void, using the last of his strength to shield his memories of Furia from the onslaught.

Then the heavens opened.

A shaft of light, pure and brilliant, broke through the darkness like a pillar of fire to burn the shadows away. The dark creatures shrank back, disorientated and confused at this turn of events, white eyes blinking at one another and clacking jaws gibbering softly. Simon too seemed confused that the assault had suddenly stopped, looking up warily and taking the momentary respite to better cover Furia. Magnus concentrated all of his psychic power on the light, focussing and strengthening it. It was hard to bridge the two worlds like this, even with help from the other side, but the Cyclops would not be defeated. His efforts did not go unrewarded, and Magnus rejoiced as he heard the words he had hoped to hear.

"Get off me you fat bastard. And take your damn hands off there unless you want 'em broken."

"...Furia? You're alive."

"No shit."

"But I thought... I saw you.."

"Yeah well, you know, takes more than that to take me out."

Furia sat up, the ghostly memory form becoming more solid and more real with every passing moment. She smiled.
"And I had help, of course."

She stood, helping Simon to his feet, and grinned in anticipation.

"So what do you say - ready for round two?"

------

Pain. So much pain.

"Wake-wakey."

That voice. That terrible voice. Almost instinctively Wayne tried to flinch away from it, but found himself unable to move

" Don't struggle. It won't do you any good."

Wayne finally opened his eyes and gazed up in horror at the two giants looming above him. He was on his back, tied down tightly by sturdy chains. The larger of the two giants crouched down on its haunches and leaned down so that it could whisper directly into the young man's ear, its hot breath stinking of raw meat and coppery blood.

"Any last words?"

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because you hurt my family. Because you hurt an innocent. Because I was born to destroy filth like you." The creature paused before continuing gleefully. "But most of all because I really enjoy it."

The blood soaked giant stood and nodded to its companion, who pulled what looked like a gigantic pistol from the folds of its clothes. Wayne shut his eyes and begged for mercy, knowing that it wouldn't make any difference. A shot rang out, followed by a hissing shriek. Wayne blinked. He was still alive, and the giant killers had vanished. It was only he breathed a shuddering sigh of relief that he saw the smoky trail of the flare lighting up the night sky above him.

Across town, Perturabo smiled.

-----

As one, Simon and Furia attacked the darkness, soul light building around them and chasing away the shadows. Magnus heard a voice behind him hiss in his ear.
"It won't work! He will fall soon enough, warrior. Maybe not today, but soon, and he will drag down the rest of you with him."

Magnus snarled in response and blasted ever more power into the aether.

"Begone spirit!" He roared. "Enough of your lies! Go back to the void and trouble us no more."

With a shriek, the shadows disintegrated, flying apart and burning up like scraps of paper caught in a fire. Magnus approached Furia and Simon and put his arms around them.

"Miranda, it is done. Bring us home."

Magnus awakened from his trance, shards of ethereal ice cracking and steaming off him as his body came back to life. Furia sat opposite him holding Miranda's hand, gazing intently into Simon's face for any sign of life. Long minutes passed. Then, just as Magnus was beginning to lose hope, the boy's eyes flickered open.

"You're ok!" shouted Furia
"I am?"
"Yes, my son." said Magnus, stroking his hair with paternal affection. "It was touch and go for a moment there, but we brought you back."
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me, thank Furia. She fought for you, just as you fought for her."
"Really... but I..."
"Oh shut up and kiss me." said Furia.

As the two kissed, long and deeply, the whole hospital rumbled to the sound of an explosion.

------

"What the hell was that?!" said Roboute.
"Sounded like it came from the roof. Come on!"

Primarchs, doctors, nurses and even some patients were soon on the roof of the building. There they found Perturabo sitting in an oversized folding chair, smiling contentedly as Petra scurried about lighting huge fireworks covered with black and yellow chevrons.

"Perturabo... what are you doing?"
"I knew Magnus would do it. I thought a celebration was in order."
The Iron Warrior paused, a flicker of doubt passing almost imperceptibly across his face.
"The boy is alive, correct?"
Vulkan raised an eyebrow and made to respond but was interrupted by Guiliman.

"Look! Down there, the city is burning! Vulkan, come, leave him"

Vulkan and Guliman left swiftly, but the Salamander's primarch paused at the doorway.

"Perturabo... what did you do?"

"Me? I did nothing. And you should go. I imagine that fire is spreading quite fast now."

When the two had left, Perturabo called Petra over and helped her onto his huge lap.

"Thank you daughter. You did very well."

"Thank you Papa."

Together they watched the night explode with coloured flame and listened to the wail of sirens.