Warhammer 40k:The Lone Star

Chapter 2: No Mercy for the Damned

POV: Leon

Location: Bandit Camp

Varn and I crouched atop a crumbling building, gazing down at the warehouse below. Half its roof had collapsed, giving us a clear view of the scene within. Through my binoculars, I scanned the area, searching for the captives and the bandit leader.

Then, my grip on the binoculars tightened.

"Varn," I growled, my voice thick with barely contained rage. "They've got the prisoners in a cage, hanging above a pit filled with beasts."

Varn stiffened beside me, his hands clenching around his sniper rifle. A low snarl of anger escaped him.

"Enemy count: twelve, scattered across the area. As for the boss, he's likely holed up in his quarters."

Lowering my binoculars, I turned to Varn. "I'll go in. Silent and fast. While I hunt the bastard down, you take out the grunts from afar."

He gave a sharp nod, already fitting a suppressor onto his rifle. Meanwhile, I stripped off any loose armor that could make noise, leaving behind only what was necessary. My lasgun remained slung over my back—I had no use for it here. Instead, I drew my combat knife, its edge wickedly sharp, and gripped my chainsword. The weapon let out a low, eager hum, hungry for carnage.

With everything prepared, I moved toward the warehouse, killing intent radiating off me like a palpable force.

---

Inside, the air was thick with sweat, filth, and the stench of rotting food. Shadows curled around me as I moved from cover to cover, a wraith within the darkness. Varn did his work well—one by one, the bandits fell, their bodies dropping soundlessly into the gloom.

As I approached the cage, the sound of muffled cries caught my ear. Then, a different noise—the vile, unmistakable sounds of suffering and debauchery.

I ground my teeth. I knew that sound.

I stepped toward a side room, my grip tightening on my knife.

Inside, the scene was as repulsive as I had imagined—whimpers of broken souls, laughter of the damned. Two of the scum reveled in their depravity, utterly unaware of their impending doom.

I moved without hesitation. The first never saw me coming. A hand clamped over his mouth as I drove my blade into his flesh again and again, his struggles weakening until he was nothing but a lifeless husk.

The woman he had been tormenting lay there, empty eyes staring at nothing. My vision blurred with fury.

The second wretch turned, whip in hand. Before he could react, I seized the barbed weapon from a nearby table and lashed it around his throat. He clawed at the metal thorns sinking into his flesh, his muffled shrieks turning to gurgles. I pulled tighter, twisting the wire, savoring the way his blood poured like a sacrament. With one final yank, his head tore free, rolling across the floor like discarded offal.

I turned to the women, wrapping them in my cloak. "You're safe now," I murmured, though the words felt hollow. Their silence told me everything—some wounds never heal.

Leaving them behind, I stepped back into the warehouse.

Everything had gone eerily quiet.

I glanced toward Varn's perch and signaled. A flash of light answered—his way of telling me the job was done.

That left only the leader.

I approached his door, easing it open with careful precision.

Then—

*CRASH*

The door exploded in a storm of splinters as a massive foot slammed into my gut. Pain lanced through me as I was sent flying, blood spraying from my lips. My back hit a rusted railing with a sickening crack, and I barely managed to stay upright.

Emerging from the shattered doorway was no mere man.

A hulking figure stepped into view, its form twisted and grotesque. Once human, now something far worse—its flesh bore the taint of the warp, muscles swollen with unholy power, eyes burning with malevolent hunger.

I cursed under my breath.

'The bastard let a daemon in'

The abomination let out a guttural snarl, then charged.

It was *fast.* Faster than anything that size had the right to be.

I ripped my chainsword from its scabbard, the blade roaring to life. In my other hand, my knife gleamed under the dim light. Dual-wielded and ready, I threw myself to the side an instant before it reached me.

With a deafening crash, the beast obliterated the railing behind me, shards of metal raining down into the abyss below.

Varn's shots rang out from above, hammering into the creature's skull—but the bullets sparked uselessly against its corrupted hide. It barely flinched.

I seized the opportunity, lunging onto its back. With a savage snarl, I drove my knife deep between its shoulder blades. The tainted blood that oozed from the wound reeked of something *wrong.*

The monster roared, thrashing violently. I gritted my teeth, holding on as it slammed me against walls, crates—anything it could use to dislodge me. My ribs screamed in protest, but I refused to let go.

I pressed my chainsword against its side and revved it to full power. The teeth tore into its flesh, grinding through bone, chewing into its innards like a relentless beast.

It howled in agony, its struggles turning frantic. It smashed its back into a pillar, again and again, breaking me apart piece by piece—but I kept tearing, kept carving, drowning the world in the wet sounds of its body being ripped asunder.

Blood poured in torrents. The beast staggered.

And then—finally—its movements slowed.

With one last, gurgling snarl, it collapsed.

Darkness closed in.

The last thing I saw before everything faded to black was the corpse of the monster, its lifeless eyes staring into the void.

And then—I saw nothing.