"[i]Welcome to the steel legion![/i]" 

Ben was riding on top of a Chimera, that hatch open, as a mechanized column poured out of the city. The man yelling at him was in the gunner's seat, arm resting on the pintle mounted stubber. "[i]Don't worry! The greenskins will be dead within a week, rookie![/i]" His eyes were a shining blue, behind the goggles. 

The sound of rain on the steel hull woke Ben up. But it didn't rain on Armageddon. He looked around in the hull, a dim red light shining. The gunner's legs spasmed and kicked, and he fell in, his chest a gaping wound from a shoota. The man was already dead as two men scrambled to try and save his life. A private climbed up and closed the hatch. 

The backdoor of the Chimera opened, and once Sergeant, now lieutenant Benjamin Duren stepped out. He held a shotgun, and had little care for his safety anymore, it had been two years of hell. He stepped away from the safety of cover, firing the shotgun from the hip, walking towards the Ork's, screaming obscenities. Two privates grabbed him, and pulled him back to the Chimera. 

Lieutenant Duren dropped into the trench that the orks had held. He raised his plasma pistol and shot an ork. He turned and pointed down the trench, and several men went with Grenades to clear it. He turned and saw a Warboss charging him. His jaw was ripped off, his intestines torn from his body, a gaping wound in his chest. The ork was lying on the ground laughing as it bled to death, surprised by the human's tenacity and fight. Ben was lying on the ground screaming, his legs gone, his arm gone, his spine a mess.

Ben woke up, for real this time, as the ship left the warp and entered real space. He was sleeping in a wheelchair, his legs and arm not attached to his body. He put his hand on the joystick and wheeled himself forward to a servitor, who helped attach his legs and arm. Ben stood up, and stretched what he could and settled the aches that he couldn't. The same dream as usual. Ben dressed himself, choosing to wear his Steel legion uniform. He put on his coat, and buttoned it, and holstered his pistol. He slid the power fist onto his hand. The energy field inactive, it was just a giant gauntlet. Ben attached the rebreather to his chest, and hung it loosely around his neck. He put on his helmet, and pushed his goggles up so they rested on his forehead, allowing his face to be seen. 

Ben made his way through the ship and into the briefing room, entering. Ben nodded to them. "[color=aba000]Inquisitor. Trooper.[/color]" He said pointblank. He was tired, as he usually was. The bags under his organic eye were deep and dark today, and he hadn't shaved in two or three days giving him a haggard appearance. Ben took off his power fist, and placed it on the ground under his chair. He placed an order of recaf with a servitor, and sat down. When the recaf arrived, Ben sipped the drink.