[center][h1][u][b]Merry Go Round of Death[/b][/u][/h1]
-After the Siege of Ouran-[/center]
[hr]
The conquered city of Ouran still reeked of blood.

The rain had washed much of it away, and what little it hadn’t, human hands had cleaned. But despite their efforts, and that of the wind, the smell- the taste in the back of the city’s throat- lingered.

Whole swathes of the city were in ruin, entire families dead in moments. Those few locals that survived huddled in their homes as the Imperium reshaped it around them in glorious homage to their Emperor of Mankind.

But the city was not silent.

To a child for whom everything is new, a ruin is a playground.


[hr]


The Crimson children raced through the streets, aiming directly for a collapsed building once taller than the masts of their ship and now reduced to a pile of mismatched rubble.

“LAST ONE THERE HAS TO STICK A FINGER IN THE OCEAN!”

“Yeah well, last one to the top has to do EVERYBODY’S LAUNDRY!”

The youngest girl nearly collapsed in a fit of laughter- lucky indeed she was being carried. They all waved as people poked their heads out of buildings and around corners to look at them. One local called out nervously, “The Magpies?”

“MAGPIES ARE AT THE DOCKS!” They yelled in perfect sync. “TRADE TO BE HAD! BYE!” Never once did they stop running.

But then something stopped them.

Through the vast patrols of the auxilia, each as resplendent as the next in black trenchcoat and charcoal carapace, the children could see them from hundreds of meters away. It was impossible not to see them in their various hues throughout the captured city of Ouran. Grey, lilac-white, yellow, and bronze-black were their colors, effortlessly applied to hulking pieces of ceramite. Their weapons were just as myriad, either with bulky man-sized armaments in their hands or vicious chainweapon strapped to their thighs. 

The two in particular that the children saw were black-bronze giants with the strangest assortment of decorations they’d seen yet. Unlike the rest, they wore charcoal cloth attached to their front and back belts. Trophies from unseen lands dangled from their pauldron as bits of engraved ceramic, mutant pelts, or bullet casings. Chains clinked with each of their steps, their weapons locked to their vambraces through thick metal links. Snarling, sloped helmets covered their features from the rest of the world. Both bore bulky weapons in two-hands as they continued their patrol through the shattered parts of Ouran.

The children paused, glanced at each other, and came to a unanimous decision. They raced after the two warriors as fast as they could. Of course, next to the walking speed of a man as big as these, the fastest run of 5 children (and one more being carried) did not appear very fast.

One of them, a girl no older than 7, yelled. “Um hiiiii!!!!! Shiny ones!!!!!!”

An older boy chimed in as well. “You don't look busy, do you want to play with us?”

The giants turned their orange-lensed gaze down to the children that had begun to swarm around them. Either out of kindness or a desire to prevent further injuries, the Astartes slowed their pace to a portion of what they’d normally be capable of walking. It was enough for the children to be able to comfortably catch up with the warriors whose steps were measured in tens of meters instead of inches. The silence of the genemen were broken by their stomps, their rumbling powerpack, and their jostling ornamentations.

And the faint sound of clicks coming from their helmets. The Scorpion on the left was looking to his left down at the children as he walked, his action mirrored by his counterpart but to his respective side. Their gaze turned away from the smaller mortals and slightly towards each other.

+’[b]Children?[/b]’+ The leftmost one inquired into his private vox, shared by the warrior to his right. His voice was young and spirited, a tone of curiosity as if the word felt new to him.

+’[i]Magpies[/i]. Mortals. It was briefed by the Sigilite. Try not to harm them or engage them,’+ the rightmost warrior responded in the vox. His voice was older and rough, a tone of experience that spoke of the Unification War’s campaigns. His stance, gait, and actions were more composed. 

The leftmost one’s helmet turned slightly away from the rightmost and down towards the children that flanked around him. His autolenses captured their image in his helmet, reflected as data that displayed what they were and what their affiliation was. The psycho-indoctrination that compelled him to obey his veteran Astartes pulled at his soul; however, something else had snaked into his stapled emotions. [color=orange]A brotherhood of dusk is only as close knit as their most humble warrior[/color].

He blinked in confusion. Strange words had been spoken to him in a tongue he didn’t understand, but the intent was real. His greaves came to a sudden halt, nearly causing one of the children to run into his bulky ceramite. The other warrior stopped, snapping his helmet to the younger. There was an underlying layer of confusion and frustration evident in the sharpness of his helmet’s snap.

“Greetings, little ones,” The Astartes said, automatically tuning the sensitivity of his voxgrille to acceptable levels for a mortal. He lowered himself down slightly, his orange lenses observing the children as they came to a full stop. From that point, he wasn’t entirely sure how to proceed. He’d never had to deal with children since his ascension. It suddenly dawned on him that this was likely what Captain Alim felt. The eyes of the older warrior burned into the back of his skull.

“I believe we have a patrol route nearby that would be sufficient enough for ‘playing’. You may call me Idris. The one behind me is my brother, Ghaalib,” Idris spoke again, finally introducing himself. Ghaalib rolled his shoulders in response, frustration building on his body but too stubborn enough to interrupt. He couldn’t tell if the older warrior was curious or if he had heard the same words as him.

The children caught up and stared at the Astartes.

The oldest, a girl about thirteen, with long hair dyed violent, splotchy red, spoke for them. “We’re Crimson.”

“Do you like hide’n’seek??????” The youngest added, still being carried.

Meanwhile, one of the boys, who wore a red scarf like a tiny flag in the wind, was sidling slowly closer to Ghaalib, trying to look casual and unassuming but stealing glances.

“Hide and seek is it? The Thirteenth are some of the best infiltrators compared to our peers.” Idris responded with a chuckle. He didn’t lie to the child, the Thirteenth were the best known Astartes legion specialized in clandestine operations. Even as a warrior as young as he was, Idris couldn’t count the amount of infiltrations he’d performed on both hands. Ghaalib was certain to have more.

Idris picked himself up, rising to his full height in preparation for the game. Ghaalib, who’d noticed the boy with the red scarf approaching, turned towards the younger Astartes with disappointment clear in his aura. The junior warrior shrugged his shoulders in acceptance of the children’s playing. Their next noises were a series of clicks emitted from their helmets.

+’Do you truly intend to enable these children?’+ Ghaalib said with no shortage of irritation. The private vox continued with a blink of his eye from their previous interaction. His stance didn’t meet his tone.

+’There will always be monsters and men to slay. We are His warriors, but the Sigilite has mentioned previously that our humanity is a rare resource. Perhaps, this once, we engage with it if you are willing, brother.’+ Idris responded, maglocking the bolter to his right thigh with an audible thunk. His hands free of weapons, the younger Astartes gestured with one talon-tipped gauntlet towards the end of the road. As the children began to move forward, so did he.

+’You confuse me, but I’ll indulge you as a reward for your recent accomplishments here. I’ll vox to local command that we’ve deviated due to the Magpies. They seem to have some sway over hierarchy.’+ Ghaalib shook his head in defeat, joining Idris in his extended gait with his bolter maglocked to his thigh. He shared a brief dialogue with the vox-operator at Ouran’s command center before switching to local vox. The veteran Astartes, noticing the scarfed boy, made a sound through his helmet.

“Go along. Idris will play. I have a duty to uphold,” Ghaalib said to the boy, adjusting his voxgrille output to the acceptable level for conversation with mortals. He’d follow some distance behind the younger warrior, his eyes still watching the ruins with a wealth of experience only known to weapons like him. The last words of the vox-operator put him on edge. Members of the Seventeenth in the local area if you require reinforcements, they had said to him. Ghaalib disliked the kind of reputation that came with endearment towards mortals for the Thirteenth. He’d dislike it further if other legions began to talk of it.

The boy stared at him silently for a few seconds, then nodded. “I don’t like hide’n’seek. I’ll help you.” And with no further warning, the boy ran over to climb Ghaalib.

Meanwhile, the rest of the flock had gathered around Idris to explain the rules.

“You can be It first!”
“That means you gotta seek first.”
“You count to… um…”
“Count to 30!”
“No no 40!!!!!”
“Okay fine count to 40 and then-”
“THEN YOU COME FIND US!”
“Don’t interrupt me!!!”
“While they’re arguing, you gotta close your eyes while you count so we can go hide.”
“ANYWAY! After you’re done counting you come find us!!!!!”

Chaos erupted as five children attempted to simultaneously explain the rules. When they finished, they stood silently waiting for him to close his eyes and start counting.

Idris stared at them blanky from beneath his helmet. He hadn’t considered that they couldn’t see expression behind the slopped wargear of his legion. The Space Marine turned towards Ghaalib for acknowledgement and was met with a shake of his head. That was one step too far for their deviation. He understood why without having to ask as there were insurgents still in Ouran.

“Very well. I’ll close my eyes and count to forty standard Terran seconds. I wish you luck, little ones, for the Scorpions are very good hunters.” Idris replied with a toothy grin beneath his mask.  He turned off his photolenses with a blink, powering down the illuminated orange of his helmet for the children. Then a rumble from within the wargear began to emit in growing volume.

“One…” Idris stated. His voice was low, deep and dangerous beneath the mask. A subconscious switch from playful to combative. His tongue trilled with each draw of a number as if rasped from a serpent’s maw. He started to crouch down in a hunter’s posture with claw-tipped gauntlets resting just above the ground. 

Ghaalib watched his fellow genewarrior with wary eyes. Neither of them had interacted with children in such a long period of time. A small worry grew on his conscience that Idris wouldn’t be able to distinguish the difference between non-combatants and enemies. In their duties to Unity, there was hardly a difference between the two. His stance shifted to allow the red scarfed child up and to be ready to intercept if necessary.

“Be ready, child,” Ghaalib warned. His voice was neutral, yet his tone suggested something dangerous may occur. He uncrossed his armored arms and let them hover by his sides. The Space Marine knew that using weaponry against his brother was unwarranted, but it wouldn’t be the first time they had used weapons against Astartes.

The scarf boy nodded as he reached a comfortable perch on Ghaalib’s shoulder. The two of them watched as the five children scattered as fast as their little legs could take them. The two youngest girls vanished behind chunks of rubble and hunkered down, the very youngest with the tips of her little red shoes pointing out behind her. The younger of the two boys, who hadn’t yet spoken a word, started climbing a building and slipped nimbly through a broken window, lost to sight. 

The oldest two, boy and girl, took one competitive look at each other and [i]bolted[/i] down the street, turning corners in opposite directions. Within 20 seconds, the only visible part of any of the children was the little red shoes of the youngest girl.

[hr]

An auspex alert sounded before the human child burst around the corner. The power armored figure rose from their spot in the rubble, stepping in front of the faint outline of another giant recumbent in the heap of debris. With the whine of servomotors the giant blocked the young girl's way forward, and sheathed a wickedly shaped saw at its hip.

This giant’s armor was not black and bronze as the two from before, but uncolored. Slate grey as the day it had rolled off the forge lines in the Terrawatt Clans. No trinkets or trophies hung from chains or dangled from its pauldrons. A simple black stenciled  “XVII”  on the left shoulder was the only thing that gave the giant any form of belonging.

It turned its helmeted gaze to the girl, turquoise lenses staring as the giant stood impossibly still before the child.

“[b]Declare yourself[/b].” the giant spoke, the voxgrill of its helmet distorting its voice into a painfully loud command.

The girl glared. “Shhhhh!!!  I’ll lose the game if you keep being that loud! I’m Crimson.” She gestured at her red-dyed hair with evident annoyance. Surveying the place she stopped, she shrugged and, instead of trying to pass the warrior before her, simply darted sideways to begin climbing.

The giant in grey took a minor step toward the girl as she began her scramble up the rubble. Servomotors whined as the Astartes reached out and scooped the girl up with one hand closed around an arm.

“This is no game, [i]child[/i].” it boomed at Crimson, the girl held up in front of the Astartes like a doll before a toddler uncertain of how not to harm it, “Imperial passcode and business.” the Astartes commanded once more.

The girl, who among her various cousins was usually the biggest and smartest, went very very still. “H-Heyyyy,” she said, “I don’t really have one but um, I’m sure that’s fine right? We got told th-that um. That it was okay to c-come play in the city and. Th-The bronze ones were playing with us. There was a guy n-named M-Markus who said it was… said it was okay.” She trembled in the hands of her captor, glad it was her here, and not any of the younger kids. 

The giant silently regarded the girl through the turquoise lenses, the slight static of vox traffic inside the helmet the only indication that the Astartes was in fact not a statue as it did.

“All citizens and refugees must have a passcode,” the giant still boomed from its voxgrill, “You have been assigned ‘[b]8-9-7-7-2-8 Crimson[/b]’, commit this to memory.” the giant declared as it simply let the girl drop free from its ceramite gauntlet, gravity taking Crimson the remaining distance to the rubble.

The Astartes lowered its hand to its side like a soldier at inspection, “897728 Crimson, you are not free to go,” it began, its head tilting down as the turquoise lenses gave off the odd sensation of being scrutinized, “deviation from this command is not recommended.”

“Ow…” the girl replied, sitting dazed on the ground.

“Forty…” Idris finally counted down. His voxgrille was turned up to maximum volume, blaring out the number to be heard. Both of his eyes opened to the world around him as the environment laid bare of children. A blink saw his orange lenses illuminate. A toothy grin sprawled across his lips. [color=orange]The dusken hunter is a master of black sands and a master of the dagger[/color].

His body exploded into action with such intensity that his tabard nearly tore off. Both of his clawed-tipped gauntlets hovered just above the ground as he sprinted forward. The sound of ceramite boots against ground reverberated intensely, causing the unaugmented to flinch in response; however, it was lighter than expected. He was lighter than Astartes of other legio. He was a son of the Thirteenth and he was a hunter.

He could smell them. Their excitement, their curiosity, their fear. It reeked off of their bodies like an acute odor. It appeared to him like a trail directly to where they hid. Idris couldn’t feel bad for the little mortals. He was too invigorated by the hunt. 

His power armoured body leapt with surprising nimbleness over the rubble the two girls hid behind. A practised movement of a warrior built for assassination. He lightly pressed both of his hands over their heads and tagged them. The action could’ve crushed mortal skulls with ease, yet Idris was a geneson of the Thirteenth Legio. Delicate manipulation was a staple of their geneseed.

Like a predator stalking through its natural environment, he lunged upwards to the closest building. His gauntlets dove precisely into the rockrete hab, pulling him upwards to the window where the next child hid. Orange lenses illuminated the next Crimson Magpie behind the broken window. His body nimbly snaked through the opening, crushing the glass beneath his armored form as he crept towards the young mortal. A simple pat on his head, a light and swift action, saw the child discovered and ‘tagged’. 

He chuckled lightly to himself as his armored form snaked out the window, falling backwards to meet the ground beneath. The momentum was used to spring to his next objective, his tabard trailing behind him like a wavering flag. Two remained. He had decided to hunt the boy first as Idris rushed down the road. His grin deepened as he leapt into the split of the road, where the two had separated. Both of his eyes turned right and saw the object of his game restrained.

He would not allow this. They were his to hunt.

The auspex ping of his armor’s identification appeared on the Seventeenth Astartes’ display just as he sprinted up. It chimed at the same second that Idris physically appeared in close proximity to the slate-gray genewarrior. A taloned gauntlet was defensive on the older girl’s head and another reached up to the other genewarrior. The digits stopped mere seconds away from their helmet. His aura was dangerous. 

“What are you doing, [i]Seventeenth[/i]?" Idris scowled out with a dangerous rasp. It was an automatic, aggressive reaction. He hadn’t even noticed other Astartes in the area during his hunt. An intense focus had consumed him in the height of the game. The entire hunt had taken several seconds to discover all of the children. An adrenaline cocktail still pumped in his veins. The sound of power armored feet followed behind him as Ghaalib rounded the corner. 

“Oh no,” muttered scarf boy.

Ana’s armor blared a proximity alert at the same moment that the auspex identified the contact with a solid “[b]XIII[/b]”.

She did not manage to step away as the bronze and gold armored form of the Thirteenth’s warrior slipped into her guard, their claws finding a new home before the soft armor of her neck.

Her voxgrill crackled back to life, her form unmoving even with the claws so close, “Recovering geneseed Cousin, this mortal interrupted. She has seen the work,” Ana replied as she motioned back toward the slate-grey form of a fallen sister of the Seventeenth in the rubble behind her. 

As she awaited the warrior's response, her armor highlighted identifying markings, trinkets, and baubles hanging off her cousin's armor.

“Your armor is in violation of general Imperial regulation. I trust you will ensure compliance, and will file a report with Legio liaisons.” she stated flatly through the voxgrill.

Split second recognition finally flashed across Idris’ eyes as the combat stimulation dulled. The hunt had faded. He withdrew his fingers away from the Astartes’ throat. The Scorpion could feel no fear, yet the quickness with which he was ready to kill gave him pause. Even another Astartes. Their Legion Master would’ve simply stated that this was a natural response as they were weapons first and people second. His talon-tipped digits slipped away to the right pauldron of the other Astartes. The claw fell away from the older girl’s hair, yet it hovered nearby to react if needed.

“Ah, [i]dear cousin[/i], you interrupted my hunt. You have my apologies for the indiscretion, but these children are in my charge,” Idris finally replied after another second of silence. His desires melted into nothingness like irradiated morning dew. He never lost the toothy grin beneath his mask, even as Ghaalib finally crossed the distance between the corner and his fellow Scorpion. 

The veteran Astartes came to a slow stop next to Idris. The older girl was positioned between them as the older warrior started to speak. It seemed the presence of the scarfed boy no longer mattered to him as the Imperials started to converse.

“Sergeant Ghaalib of the Thirteenth Legio Astartes, Immortal of the Third Company. Initiating protocol Angelus Primus. Private vox [b]now[/b],” the older genewarrior stated with the voice of authority. On command, all three entered private, interlegionary vox spread across their multitude of companies. From the children’s perspective, the giants suddenly started to speak in squeaks as their voxgrilles shuttered. Only the initiation of vox speech could be heard from their helmets. Their Legion Master had instilled some sense of caution in them, wary of the cluttered hierarchy that the Legio Astartes was becoming. 

As the Astartes attention left them, the boy on Ghaalib’s shoulder called down, “Hey Ma- cousin. You okay?”

The girl flopped backwards on the ground, still shaking a little. “Nobody told me the grey ones were rude,” she whined. “I was lied to! Did our bronze one find the others?”

“Yeah, except… Uh. Well. You’ve lost the bet, I’m sure of it.”

She made a face. “I guess the colors are like our colors? Grey ones… boring and terrifying about it. Bronze ones…”

“Fun and terrifying about it. We should play sardines next.”

[hr]

“Rank and designation, Astartes,” Ghaalib requested over the private vox that the three suddenly shared. It was a trick question. His helmet firmly displayed the datapacket attached to their armor. The punctuation with which they spoke gave him most of the information he required, yet Ghaalib had to ascertain factors that weren’t present. He needed to see how obedient this younger Astartes was. The mind is like the shifting sands, bare to all and moldable to the wise.

Ana switched to the proximity interlegionary vox without a word, her armor systems handling the frequency scrambling and encryption that allowed the three Astartes to converse privately, and psychoindoctrination ensured she followed the discretion of a more experienced Legionnaire without a moment of hesitation.

“Sister Ana Alves, Medicae Secundus of the Second Company, Seventeenth Legio,” she replied dutifully, the words rolling off her lips as though a machine answered for her, “I was not informed of any hunt in the area. I was instructed that it was safe to recover our fallen’s gene-gifts for the next generation.”

Ana did not move inside her armor, though her enhanced medicae suite scanned the children before her as she spoke, “I fail to see how these mortals could be of assistance in a hunt, surely a request to the Seventeenth or even Imperialis forces would have been more sufficient.” she questioned her cousins.

The Astartes of the Thirteenth shared a look. Their features were hidden behind their helmets, yet both understood the other without the use of vox. They were encountering a warrior fresh from the forge, clad in warplate that was newly painted and pushed out by the Terrawatt Clans. The Legion Master had made it plain amongst them that the recently ascended were to be brought under their proverbial wings. It’d mitigate the time spent as a psycho-indoctrinated automata.

“Second Company hasn’t been briefed on the arrival of the Magpies then? These children are members of a Terran faction that the Imperium is currently undergoing unification efforts with. They are Imperialis Socius until further mandated otherwise by order of the Sigilite. You may continue your work, Medicae,” Sergeant Ghaalib responded as he registered the local datapacket and quickly addressed it to Sister Ana. It contained fragmentary data about the Magpies with recent, professionally doctored notes from the Thirteenth’s observations. He turned to regard Idris, who simply nodded in affirmation.

“However, recent Imperial doctrine dictates that it’d be best if you accompany us after your operation is performed. Your duties would be augmented by our presence as a joint legionary exercise,” the veteran Astartes continued with a firm tone. He frowned in distaste. This had all begun with Idris’ sudden clemency for mortals, yet it was rapidly becoming an issue evolving beyond that. His helmet turned as the younger warrior spoke after him.

“You were mortal once, cousin, if you are able to remember. I will tell you what the Sigilite had once told us - humanity is the rarest, most valuable resource that a warrior could have. These children are a conduit for channeling those attributes,” Idris said with a tinge of aggression and clarity. The combat cocktail in his system had fully run its course through both of his hearts, thoroughly flushed from his veins. He felt an unusual clairvoyance and benevolence in his mind like a purifying wash of steam over blood soaked armor. [color=orange]A warden of clear mind is a dusken warrior of pure intent[/color].

“As my brother has said, you should join us in this little game that we’re playing,” the younger Astartes suggested as he turned away from Ana. His lenses landed on the gathering crowd of children behind them, then flickered back to the slate-grey medicae with anticipation evident in his movements. 

The children already found had indeed gathered, peeking around the corner with some apprehension at the scene before them- their temporary guardian sprawled on the ground, still shaking slightly.

Maz, as her cousin had almost called her outloud, stood quickly, the reminder of her responsibilities as oldest enough to shake the last of the (visible) fear from her bones. She ran to them and they began a whispered conversation.

Ana, for all the reeducation, psychoindoctrination and relentless battle drills had done to her ego still felt disappointment as she spoke next.

“The Second Company is reduced to just seventeen, Cousin Ghaalib. It is not my station to venture, but it would appear we are withdrawn from the current events of Ouran. No doubt theater command wishes us to recover our strength before involving us in such,” her words stung of failure as her helmet turned to regard the children gathering once more, “…pleasantries.” She finished.

Even as she spoke she consumed the data packet sent by the Brother Ghaalib, her enhanced mind easily carrying conversation and committing the packet to memory for future recall. She marked it for forward to Company Command and offered a nod to the two warriors of the Thirteenth. 

“I have forwarded the data packet, you have my thanks.”

She turned where she stood, her armored form moving no doubt suddenly to the assembled children as she crouched once more and removed her tools. 

“Just a moment,” she stated over her voxgrill, the amplification still far too high for the assembled children’s ears. The sounds of cracking bone and tearing sinew resonated from her as she worked on her fallen sister, and she stood as suddenly as she had knelt.

Ana turned back to the assembled group, slipping a pair of fleshy spheres into stasis tubes as she did and nodded. 

“We may proceed.” she stated, her voxgrill still loud enough to be heard a block away.

The younger children covered their ears. The older ones merely scrunched their faces up in discomfort. The boy on Ghalib’s shoulder muttered, “She’s like that one old Verdant who can’t hear anymore.”

Then the youngest girl pointed to what Ana had just done. “Is that like what the Azure do?” Maz immediately started shaking her head. 

“I hope not!!!”

“My auditory sensors and functions read nominal. I can detect sound without issue.” Ana replied, practically screaming without turning her gaze to address the boy on the warrior's shoulders.

The boy, in return, rolled his eyes. “Oh, and just as stupid-”

Maz cut in. “HEY! You have to be polite to big scary things, idiot!”

He turned to stick his tongue out at her. “Yeah well I’ve got a big scary friend who’s way cooler sooo…” He tapped Ghalib lightly on the head.

The two children glared at each other.

“Then it is decided,” Sergeant Ghaalib said with a satisfied nod.  His voice had automatically switched from private vox to outward speech. He anticipated a great many things as a son of the Thirteenth, yet the veteran Astartes hadn’t expected to persuade another genewarrior from a different legio. The Scorpion turned away from the Medicae at the same moment that Idris readied himself once more. Ghaalib would’ve begun speaking with the younger warrior if he hadn’t received a warning from his receptors. His eyes rolled to the side of his helmet as the scarfed child spoke.

“Mind yourself, young one, I may seem calm now but there are actions that can incite my anger.” He warned, yet his voice lacked the bite necessary to fully drive the child away. Ghaalib made a mental note that he had grown used to carrying the boy aloft on his pauldrons. An active note was made regarding the possibility of recruitment within the Magpies, yet it was hidden beneath his display and to wider command. His greaves brought him back to Idris, who flexed their finger talons out in preparation. The younger warrior caught the gaze of his superior, gave a muffled chortle, and moved towards the group of children.

“I’ve two things to tell you, little ones. The first is that this warrior of the Seventeenth is joining us for our games. Her name is Sister Ana Alves. She is a Medicae, or perhaps you’d better understand it as a healer or apothecary. She is new to interaction with mortals, so treat her well.” Idris said, swapping from his private vox back to the outwardly voice he had previously used. The younger warrior planted his hands against his midriff as he explained the situation. As he finished, the Scorpion raised a finger to prevent any further questions about her.

“The second is that the game is still on. I shall find the last of your number in the next five seconds, or shall we conclude this for something else? I believe that the scarfed one on Ghaalib mentioned something regarding ‘sardines’?” Idris asked, particularly pointing his orange lenses at the girl who had been assaulted by the Seventeenth. The younger warrior was less daunting now that the combat adrenaline had been purged from his system. Still, Idris itched for another contest of speed and strength. It brought him a small amount of joy. 

Maz left the other kids and approached Ana again warily. Then, in what was clearly her best approximation of the Crimson Emissary’s confidence, she said, “If you want to play with us, you have to talk quieter.”

Ana regarded the girl, her enhanced medicae sensor suite displaying data and lab results taken from samples of the girls breath and excreted sweat from exertion and fear.

The Medicae nodded and with a thought lowered her voxgrill volume from “[b]COMBAT[/b]” to “Leisure”.

“This should be more acceptable.” Ana said  with a feminine voice sweet as honey, an accent unknown to the Magpie’s creeping in as she spoke..

“I apologize for the volume,” she offered, every syllable rolling from her tongue like the flow of a gentle river as the distortion of her helmet volume no longer hid the Astartes’ voice beneath.

As she did, the 7-year-old was running to Idris, arms upstretched in the universal child’s gesture of ‘pick me up!’ “We gotta play Sardines cause you’re too good at seeking,” she said, “but if we don’t find my brother first he’ll be reaaaaaally mad.”

The younger Astartes calmly knelt, claiming the younger girl and raising her up on one of his pauldrons. She sat just above where the pincers of his twinned scorpions met around the ‘XIII’. Idris grinned beneath his helmet at the praise, yet he decided to bottle it up for later satisfaction as his greaves moved forward. His movement signalled the overall group to begin moving towards where the Scorpion sensed the last boy.

And, on Ghalib’s shoulder, scarf-boy huffed. After a pause, though, sounding more admiring than scared he asked, “Do you kill people when you get mad?”

Ana, for all her confusion at the children and her cousins, found the answer spring to her lips before she could truly give thought to why she was even answering the boy’s question.

“We kill when we must, when commanded, anger plays little part.” she offered the child on Ghaalib’s shoulders.

“Sister Ana speaks correctly, young one, yet there are times when emotions can be used. Anything is a weapon. There are times where my duties as a weapon and my passions as a warrior intermingle. So, yes, I do extinguish the lives of the Emperor’s enemy when angered,” Ghaalib responded. He’d considered the question as it was posed, yet the Immortal hadn’t considered that the Medicae would respond. The image of Legion Master Zaid appeared in his head as he considered if anger dictated his own actions. The Scorpion hoped it broadened the emotional horizon of his legionary cousin.

The boy considered, said “I’m not the enemy of the Emperor,” then turned his head to Ana. “What do [i]you[/i] do when you’re mad?”

Ana contemplated the question a moment, her mind moving through rote battle drill and theory as quickly as her hearts beat.

“I have not been mad since I was raised up,” she lied to the child, “the Emperor has need of my sisters and I for our abilities. He does not require my anger.” she finished, suppressing the memories of the vaults deep beneath the Himalazias, of the anger she had felt after she had survived the remaking while so many had not.

The boy narrowed his eyes at her, but saved his (extensive) further questions for later.

All of them followed after the dexterous movements of Idris back down the tortured, shattered roads of Ouran. The Astartes of the Thirteenth intentionally walked at a certain speed, allowing the children to keep pace with their lithe strides and meter wide steps. The Scorpion in the lead chose not to speak as he revitalized the hunt within to determine the location of the last child. His orange lenses flashed across the swathe of land that stretched out before him. He eventually sensed the boy before physical cues presented themselves.

“Come out, little one, your siblings desire for a new game and we have a new member added to our group,” Idris called out. He raised the volume of his helmet slightly with a blink, enough to be heard but not enough to damage the eardrums of nearby mortals. The Scorpion crossed his arms as he awaited the boy to remove themselves from their hiding spot. He reeked of curiosity and fear. 

The boy didn’t move until Maz called out, “You won! I lost the bet [i]this time.[/i] We’re gonna play sardines now so we gotta explain how it works to the Bronze and the….” She eyed Ana. “And the not-Mist.”

As he came out he grinned, and Maz scoffed. “Sardines, huh? That makes sense. I wasn’t hidden very long. Wait, do you guys know what a sardines [i]is???[/i]”

Ana had been following close behind her cousins of the Thirteenth, her mind had been consumed with the next steps of geneseed extraction that would see her sisters live on in new recruits to the legio. She had been planning her routes for the next of her fallen sisters deep in concentration and hadn’t noticed the boy beginning to crawl from his hiding spot in the rubble. On instinct her hand shot to the bolt pistol maglocked to her thigh, uncoupling the lock with a barely noticeable [i]click[/i] she began to raise the weapon toward the surprise threat before she stopped herself.  Her armor categorized the child a non-threat, and she quietly placed the weapon back at its holstered position as quickly as she had removed it.

“Sardines, they are an extinct species of land animal. Imperial scientists and archeotechnicians have classified them as limbless serpents. It is postulated that Sardines used air sacks located internally along their dorsal spine to take flight for short periods of time and escape land predators.” she made a poor imitation with her hand held out flat floating toward the sky as a Sardine would, “it is why they appear to have small air veins along their bodies, to ride the air currents, as your sails do.” she stated with a sagely nod.

The duo of Bronze Scorpions cocked their head towards Sister Ana as she had begun to unholster her bolt pistol. They both shared a collective look as the weapon was quickly, silently restored to the holster in the same moment. To the mortals, it was nothing but a quick hand movement. To the genewarriors, though, it was a threat registered and then delisted from their priorities. Their finger claws had hovered over their weapons for a half of a second before returning to their neutral affairs.

“You remained in the ‘recreation’ pod for more than most then, Sister Ana,” Idris responded with a smirk. Ghaalib’s body faintly moved in a way that only a genewarrior would notice. It was a measure of disappointment at the apparent jab from him. The younger Astartes shrugged his shoulders and flared his fingers in response.

Ana perked up a little at her cousin's jab. Not recognizing it for the insult it was, she made a mental note to find and utilize a “recreation pod” next time she was sequestered beneath the Himalazias under the tutelage of Doctor Astarte for further Medicae training. If there would ever be a next time.

“Indeed, Sister Ana has been bestowed with a breadth of knowledge. I imagine it was due to her becoming a Medicae,” Sergeant Ghaalib stated, aware that her profession was not simply a choice but a mandate. If she were anything like how the Thirteenth used to be, then her expertise was granted straight from the psycho-indoctrination chambers. After all that the Bronze Scorpions have achieved, Ghaalib couldn’t believe what they had been like once. He was thankful to be made a member of the earlier legions for that reason alone.

“A long passed animal from Old Terra or not, it seems to be the topic of this game that you all wish to play,” Idris said, finally turning his attention away from the other Astartes to the children. He crossed his arms over his chestplate as the children finished discussing amongst themselves. The younger warrior was still aware of the girl on his pauldron as he spoke again. “How do you play ‘Sardines’?”

“It’s like the opposite of hide-and-seek!” The girl on Idris’ shoulder nearly slipped off in her excitement, grabbing his head for balance.

“Best played at sunset,” added the boy who had been found last. “One person hides somewhere, everyone else searches for them.”

“BUT,” the youngest girl cut in, “when you FIND THEM, you JOIN THEM IN THEIR SPOT.”

Maz nodded. “So the longer it takes you to find them the more alone you are. A couple years ago we played with the adults too in this huge abandoned city.”

The scarf boy nodded. “It was terrifying.”

Ana turned to the girl, confusion rife in her mind at the last comment, “According to records, Ouran was not abandoned years ago. I fail to see how you could have conducted such an operation as ‘Sardines’ in a hostile city as Ouran during that time,” she paused a moment, pondering the statement before continuing, “Perhaps your memory is mistaken, and it was not [i]this[/i] city but a different one.”

Her comment made, she took a step forward, silencing a request from the Seventeenth for an updated position as she did, “How does one get chosen to hide?”

Maz drew herself up with obvious anger. “My memory is NOT mistaken, Grey. I am NOT talking about Ouran. That city was far away. And empty.” She scoffed. “Maybe you [i]should[/i] get your ears checked.”

Idris hovered a bronze-black gauntlet nearby to calm the older Crimson girl. Her hostility could be felt as a palpable haze to the Astartes. A chemical flair of adrenaline from Maz’s tiny body. He doubted that Ana suspected that the Crimson Magpies were a threat after their encounter, but the Scorpion had to be cautious. The uninitiated were always temperamental at best and abominable at worst.

“Easy, young one, Sister Ana means well. Even going so far as to wonder who will be hiding when the answer is obvious,” Idris stated with a toothy grin beneath his helmet. His orange lenses turned to each of the children, ascertaining the next words he was planning to speak. He triumphantly planted both of his gauntlets on his sides and puffed out his ceramite pauldrons proudly. “It is none other than me, cousin, for I won the last game.”

All the children, except the glaring Maz, nodded in agreement at Idris’ assertion. It only made sense, after all.

A chortle bubbled up from the Astartes as Sergeant Ghaalib moved between Idris and Ana. He shook his head in vague disappointment to the younger Scorpion before resting his gaze on the warrior from the Seventeenth.

“I did not participate in the last game. I believed that Idris wouldn’t have a hard time finding these children. It is the same for this game, however, I believe it’d serve as exceptional practice if you joined in as one of the seekers,” Ghaalib said. He hadn’t seen or experienced much from the Seventeenth during the Siege of Ouran. A small part of him was interested in seeing if the younger member from the younger legion could match the younger members from the older legion.

The Medicae took a moment to decide on her involvement before nodding in agreement at Idris’ position as the one hiding

“I am agreeable to the idea of seeking,” she dropped her automatic monitoring of Idris’ armor signature from her own armor’s tasks and smiled slightly behind her helmet, “I believe my armor medicae systems would make this too easy, I shall disable them for the time being.” 

With that, she took a step forward, her hands dancing over her equipment for the briefest of moments as she ensured everything was in its proper position.

“Cousin Ghaalib, Cousin Idris, Crimson children, I am reporting readiness for [i]sardines[/i].”

All the children stared expectantly at Idris.

“[color=orange]Rest your eyes on a blanket of dusk[/color], my friends,” Idris said as he took a step backwards. There was a skip in his step, joyful at the prospect of being hunted instead of being the hunter. A fresh voice entered his mind at the thought. [color=orange]Dark sands guide the hunter and the hunted, yet only the scorpion survives the greedy serpent[/color]. He offered an Achaemenid’s bow as he watched the children and Astartes close their eyes. A clip of his belt saw the bolter and chainsword drop from his form, falling by the side of Ghaalib who watched with annoyance.

The Bronze Scorpion erupted into a blur of movement as they all started to count. He sprinted away as fast as his genemodified body could with all the added benefit of being a warrior of the Thirteenth. His boots fell as lightly as he could allow, muting their noise as effectively as one could to others. He ran as those clad in dusk, galloping over imaginary grains of sand as he vaulted urban rubble. His objective was well within sight. The building that one of the boys had hidden in would suffice for his hunting ground. He zigzagged in the urban rubble, obscuring his true path as if he were dispersing sand.

His clawed fingers picked up a small piece of rubble, flicked it sideways to simulate the sound of an armored form jumping and then jumped himself upon the building. A loud shattering of a window resounded across the area, reverberated only by the accompanying bang of a ferrocrete wall nearly collapsing. Idris slithered into the ferrocrete structure with the guile of a practised assassin, slinking down into a prone position two stories up from where the boy had been found. He yanked a piece of stained cloth from a toppled table and threw it over himself in a single motion. Finally, in a cunning act, Idris deactivated the generator in his power armor and removed his helmet. 

Young, Achaemenidian features bristling with scars stared out with dark eyes as the sky slowly began to transform into dusk. He offered a toothy grin to the wind. A pair of claw-tipped fingers turned the helmet’s lenses away from the sun, aware that it could give away his position. Now, only time would tell if the children managed to discover him. 

[hr]

As the children finished counting and opened their eyes, the sun shone bright in their faces, close to setting. Ghaalib’s friend scrambled down from his shoulder to join the others in their search. Maz sighed as she scooped up the Captain’s 5-year old daughter, seeing her rival do the same for his little sister. “Last game.” The children all grumbled for a few seconds, and then, without warning, they scattered.

“I’m winning this time!” Maz called. She heard him reply but didn't bother paying attention. She half-skipped and half-ran, the little girl in her arms giggling with every bounce. She had no doubt of her direction, after that sound they’d heard- although it wouldn’t surprise her if it was some kind of trick. She climbed up a pile of boulders just to make her little charge giggle.

At the top she paused. “Alright little Captain, what wind shall we catch?”

The little girl thought for a moment, her face scrunched up. “Mama says that when we do new things we usually copy what we see other people do. So maybe he used one of our hiding spots!!!”

Maz grinned, hearing the others yell in frustration. “Clever girl. Let's go check them.”

Sister Ana watched stoically as the children took off on their search in the wrong direction. She remained stationary, allowing the children to disappear before her helmet's gaze turned toward Cousin Idris’ most likely direction of travel. She was basing her assumption off of the footsteps she was able to distinguish through her muted helmet’s auditory inputs and the vibration of the over thousand pound Astartes’ every footstep made in her own armored soles. She made note of the warrior of the Thirteenth’s silence and muted footfalls for after action review, her armor sensors had still recorded the event though she allowed herself not to access the information in the name of sportsmanship.

She began to walk calmly down the road, unsure of any valid reason to rush as she picked out likely avenues of egress from the starting position. She studied a mound of rubble ahead, noting fresh movement as stone debris settled at the base of the obliterated building and continued toward it with silent determination. She walked quietly around the pile of rockcrete and death, her eyes following an eddy of dust in the air some distance down the road. 

Her every armored footfall crunched rock and stone beneath her feet, and she observed the area around her with clinical precision. She stopped at the spot of the since dissipated billowing dust and surveyed her surroundings. She recalled the sound of shattering glass and began to spin where she stood, her genehanced mind picking out broken windows around her. She lamented the fact that there was no shortage of shattered glass to choose from, but her transhuman mind began to filter out windows that did not match patterns of external forced entry.

She ruled out a number of buildings from nearby blast craters and glass fragmentation patterns that led [i]out[/i] onto the street rather than into the buildings. She narrowed her search down to just two buildings in a matter of heartbeats.

She turned to face her two most likely culprits, scrutinizing the shadowed interiors as she stood in the middle of the road. She turned her head to the side as the approaching sound of the Crimson children began to grow. 

The oldest boy sang a wordless song as he carried his younger sister piggyback through the streets. They were, of course, following Ana. Maz would say it was cheating, but the huge woman had an obvious advantage in finding the Bronze they were searching for. He stopped singing as they got closer, stopped walking just out of her sight, around a corner. His sister giggled quietly, and he shushed her with a wide smile.

To Ana, of course, they were obvious. 

With the Crimson children just out of sight Ana now had reason to move with more urgency. Her first step sent her bounding for the first of the two buildings, the second had her armored form rising through the air as she reached for the window frame. Her gauntleted fingers gripped onto the rockcrete of the wall and she swung her second hand up to gain a better hold. For the briefest of moments she began to haul herself up toward the shattered window and then she was falling.

The bulk of her form, weighing close to that of an automover, slammed into the already broken street with an unceremonious crunch. She rolled off her back not a moment after making contact with the ground and took off for the street level entrance to the habblock this time, leaving the acrobatics to her cousins in the Thirteenth. She stomped noisily through the interior hall as she made for the quickest path to an interior stairwell.

Inside the stairwell she slowed her movement once more, attempting her best to emulate the deafened sounds of her cousin Astartes as she climbed the interior floor by floor in an attempt to leave the children guessing where she had exited.

Ghaalib had watched the affair from the start. As Sol began to dip into the toxin-tinged clouds of Terra, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for the children. They were up against one of the oldest active legions bar the First and specialized in infiltration. A chronometer within his helmet ticked down the time it’d take for the children to discover Idris. The real challenger, he assumed correctly, was the woman from the Seventeenth.

She had sieved through the deception that Idris had laid as bait. Even the children were starting to realize. Ghaalib wondered if it was coincidence with the mortals or was it a sign of higher cognitive function, he previously thought they were bereft of. Regardless, freshly awakened Astartes never ceased to amaze him in their raw capabilities. Some of that raw experience was now gone from the Scorpions, leaving only black sand and dusken skies in its wake.

[hr]

Maz hoisted her small charge higher in her arms as they made it back to where their game of hide and seek had started- just in time to watch the not-Mist woman go into one of the buildings. Her face twisted up in frustration. It was cheating to follow someone else in Sardines- it defeated the point of the game. And yet…

Her thoughts were interrupted by the little girl in her arms. “Can’t be cheating if we were already gonna look there! Come ON, cousin!” Maz’s sleeve was thoroughly tugged on in an effort to get her to head for where Ana had gone.

She sighed. “Alright fine. But if he says we’re cheating I’m telling him it was your idea, my little Captain.”

Meanwhile, the oldest boy and his sister waited patiently across the street, watching to see if Ana would finish searching and leave the building, or if one of the other children had the same plan. 

Well, not so patiently. His sister wiggled. “Let’s just go in. I wanna see!”

And, well, why would he deny her? He bounced their way across the street into the door Ana had entered.

And he didn’t notice Maz and her young charge watching him from down the road.

The slate grey armored form of Ana slipped through a doorway, her steps crunching glass and debris as lightly as she could manage, though still far louder than her cousin of the XIII had managed. She peered through each doorway down the hall of the habblock, trying to find anything that would give away her cousin—  loose dust here, scuffed floors there, broken glass strewn about this room or that. She found herself becoming frustrated as she searched. Every room was empty of the Space Marine she expected to find. Her choler rose with each vacant room.

Ana fought back the urge to smash a mostly intact door aside as she stepped back from another failed search. She would not lose this day, not to mortals, and certainly not to her cousin in the XIII. 

She peered into a room, darkness shrouding most of it, and began to step back in defeat before she stopped midstride. Her power pack whined, the sound of her breathing filled her helmet, and the acrid tang of her sweat suffused every breath. Something was off in the room. Her helmet turned to the right, her eyes surveying the room again as her body followed her line of sight back into the destroyed apartment.

The meager belongings of the apartment's last inhabitant were strewn across the ground in a manner indicative of blast pressure, and yet a set of silverware and a shattered plate told a different story. The objects in question were dispersed almost perpendicular to the direction the rest of the objects had landed. Perhaps they had been too heavy for the pressure wave to dislodge initially and had been moved after the violence had ended.

She followed the direction of the cutlery and settled her gaze upon the stained tablecloth in the darkness of the shadows. It had fooled her, at least initially. Such a light object would easily have been blown about in the city-wide pandemonium of the battle that had taken place just hours earlier. But the cutlery that had been set atop it and yanked from the table with the tablecloth had been her cousin's downfall.

She still couldn’t [i]see[/i] Idris in his hiding spot, his armor somehow melted away beneath the stained linen and lost in the rubble alongside it, but she knew he was there. Her second heart began to beat faster on instinct, that untameable part of Ana’s brain unchanged by hypnoindoctrination and drills that warned her of a predator unseen in the dark, spurred her reforged biology to prepare for combat even as she unlatched her helmet.

A hiss of pressurized air followed as she lifted her helmet from its place in her gorget and smiled at the cousin she still could not see.

“I must admit, I was becoming frustrated that I would never find you, Cousin Idris,” she smiled.

“And yet, you found me, Cousin,” the darkness of the room replied as the linen began to move. The Bronze Scorpion picked himself up from the ground, pushing aside rubble and debris to stand to his full height. Each movement was strained with the groan of unpowered warplate. He scooped up his helmet with one hand and brushed off dust from his armor with the other. His powerpack began to hum with energy as it chugged to life once more.

“Though, you’re quite an aggressive hunter! I counted at least five different moments I could’ve shot you if I had a ranged weapon available,” Idris said with a coy grin as he turned to regard the other Astartes, his tanned and scarred skin greeting her sight. The Scorpion locked his helmet to his waist as he stepped closer to Ana. He stepped close and clapped a gauntlet on her pauldron.

“I admit defeat. Well done, Ana,” the Scorpion said with a toothy grin.

Ana turned, a quizzical look on her face as she answered her cousin Astartes, “The parameters of this exercise did not include live fire training, so I did not take steps to ensure my safety against ranged or more, [i]personal[/i] weapons.” She nodded, “it was not a necessary consideration.”

She turned her gaze to follow his hand as it came down on her pauldron, she had no doubt that had her armor system been on they would have warned her of the approaching strike, but they were silent now.

“I do not believe the game is over Cousin, I must hide, and the children must now seek us both.” She confirmed, recalling the earlier rules discussion from her didactic memory banks with practiced ease. 

As the last words left her mouth, Idris quickly raised his other gauntlet to quiet any further discussion. His head turned towards the hallway that she entered from. He listened silently with his right ear turned slightly towards the ruined floor. The grin that grew on his face turned toothy as he realized their mistake with joy. A small pitter-patter of feet echoed below them at a clipped pace.

“Deadly little hunters aren’t they?” He cooed. Words were left unsaid of their possible recruitment. The Scorpion knew that there was roughly enough time to quickly egress the room and escape detection. His mind whiplashed through all possible scenarios, including ones where he disabled Ana and pursued his own victory. Ultimately, he remained stationary as the first of the children appeared through the doorway into their present room.

Although the boy and his sister had been the first into the building, Maz and her small charge were the first to find the Astartes. Maz set the little girl down as soon as they entered the room, and she immediately ran to Idris and tucked herself in near him, curling up as small as she could, which was quite small. Maz grinned and whispered, “Quick, if you hide better than that they might walk in and not know we’re here.” She looked around, shrugged, then tucked herself in beside Idris as well, wrapping the darkest of her red clothes around her and the youngest child.

Unfortunately for Maz’s hopes, the other children were close behind them. Soon after she arrived, the boy with the scarf peeked in through the broken window and grinned at the sight of them. He clambered through, careful of the glass, and quietly tucked himself in beside them. Only seconds later, the two siblings arrived, the little girl clambering over to stand very still on Ana’s foot, and the boy sighing before tucking himself into a corner behind Idris. Maz grinned at him.

Only one child left.

Sergeant Ghaalib could be heard before he could be felt. The grind and wail of his armor became more apparent as he ascended the stairs. A final step into the gathering of Astartes and children saw the short journey completed, though there was a leisure lag to the veteran’s movements. 

“Your game is completed then?” He asked with feigned exasperation. The lenses of his helmet peered down at each of the children, then finally rested on both of the Astartes. As if affirming his own thoughts, Ghaalib nodded in satisfaction. “Good. Imperial Command has sent out a withdrawal demand for all employed units.”

He turned his attention away from the gathering out to Sol as it slowly descended into the horizon. Ghaalib refused to elaborate on the subject, turning away from the children and descending down from the building. What he had said could’ve been shared privately over vox, yet it was spoken aloud for a reason. It was something that he chose not to reveal as he awaited the rest of the Astartes in the streets below.

“Then it is finally time,” Idris said with unwavering finality. He removed the helmet from his waist and pressed it atop his skull, sheathing his dusken features away from the children. His gauntlets softly ruffled the hair of the crimson youths as he stepped away from them. He turned back before crossing the threshold down into the streets, awaiting Sister Ana and the farewells of the Crimsons.

Ana followed her seniors out, a portion of her mind confirming written notes on the children and attaching suspect and biologis readings to each child as she stepped out into the streets.

“The time comes then, Dume shall fall?” She asked rhetorically, almost as much for the children as for her own sense of childlike awe at taking part in her first true conquest.

But the children never heard an answer. Tumbling over each other, they quickly ran off to find their last companion and return to the ship they called home. But one thing was left behind.

A red scarf, tied quietly around Ghaalib’s ankle in the chaos as they left.
[hr]
Credits: [@MarshalSolgriev] (Idris/Ghalib of the XIII) [@FrostedCaramel] (Sister Ana of the XVII) [@mothnoodle] (Crimson Magpies)