Thus far in my life, I have been blessed with losing consciousness for extended periods of suffering. And while I did again give up the ghost in Mortoc’s throne room, I alas was not out for too great a duration this time around. I view it as having been given a blessed opportunity to give penance for the wavering of my faith, and one I hope I met. Nevertheless, after blacking out shortly after Mortoc’s demise, I returned to consciousness not in a medicae unit, but instead still within Bliss’s arms. Unfortunately, she was not alone in that scene. “Is that the Inquisitor?” one of the Wolves asked her. She replied by staring blankly at him. “You can leave him in our care. We’ll see him taken care of.”
“I will not be doing that. You will not lay a hand—or claw—upon him,” Bliss responded. “Get out of my way, or you will die fighting for your own hubris rather than for the Throne.”
A chuckle murmured through the Wolves that surrounded her, them perhaps not understanding what it was they were looking at, not knowing what Bliss was. The caveat of secrecy, as few knew an Assassinorum agent at a glance, even among Astartes. “Our fight has ever been for the Emperor of Man, and His citizens. What was his fight for, and how badly did he lose it?”
“He only lost it because I was not there for him as I should have been, and his fight was more worthy than any you’ll have the opportunity to serve in,” Bliss responded. “Stand aside. I will not ask a third time.”
I do not know if they stood aside, as my vision went dark again. One would have to ask Bliss herself, if one was so-inclined. I am led to believe that the bullish Wolves would not have backed down, not ones to ignore the chance to meet a challenge nor to ignore an opportunity to put an Inquisitor down and get away with it—I could have just as easily died against Mortoc, after all, and that would have been a convincing lie to feed back to the Inquisition.
The next time I awoke, I did so to autogun fire. I was no longer in Bliss’s arms, and was instead laid down upon the grating of a metal catwalk. Bliss was some distance off to my left, at least when I came to, but she was moving quite a bit, weaving about as she defended our position from an onslaught from the Lost and the Damned. She was, as ever, a sight to behold, not merely for her beauty—which was, even then, something I could not help but make note of—but also for her combat ability. How long, I wondered, had she been fighting for without rest? She showed no signs of slowing down, and fought as masterfully as she once had to save me on Aerialon during the Phaenonite affair. How perfect could a human being be when it came to murder? I could not imagine anyone better at it than Bliss Carmichael; frankly, I could not imagine Bliss’s fighting ability if you asked me to.
Eventually, an autogun landed next to me, thrown into the air by a foe slain by Bliss. Gradually, while Bliss killed untold numbers of enemies out of view, I wormed my way into gripping the weapon in my one good arm, though that brought me much pain due to the broken chest I still lugged around with me. I just about had it in my grasp when I spied two of the Lost and the Damned ascending a stairwell to reach our level of the catwalk, and I opened fire upon them. Before I could, though, two thin, grey, skull-emblazoned daggers embedded themselves in each of the temples of their heads, killing them instantly. I still shot their corpses up as they fell, not reacting in time to their demise to stay my trigger finger. Bliss had their front covered, just as she covered every other area of the battle.
When the shooting stopped, and the final bodies hit the floor, Bliss walked back over to me and took the autogun out from my grasp before tossing it away, over the railing of the catwalk. “You should be resting, Callant,” she chided me, provocatively descending upon me and moving her body up and against mine. She kept herself from touching my chest, though, which I much appreciated. “I am sorry that this has gone the way it has. Please let me save you from this hell,” she said, her head hovering over mine. Glassy red orbs that obscured blood-red eyes glistened in my view. “Please rest. You deserve better than to need to see all this.”
I tried to reply to her, but failed to form the words, and in trying to speak, blacked out again. She got what she wanted, and cradled me in her arms once more, carrying me ever onward into hell.
There were a third, fourth, and fifth time that I would awake, too. Each time involved a growing intensity of combat. When I awoke for the fourth bout of combat, I found Bliss’s right arm to be cut open, blood spilling from a wound upon her already-blood soaked form. The fifth time I found her, one of her glass eyes had shattered and was nowhere to be found, revealing only her actual crimson eye where it once had rested.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
The sixth time I awoke, Bliss was more thoroughly wounded that ever before. Dozens of nicks, scratches, and gashes emerged through her black synskin suit, and her breath was, for once, heavy. She was holding her forehead against mine, her head uncovered in full. “Stay here, sweety,” she asked of me. She had rested me against the side of some partially-crumbled plascrete structure. The sound of a warzone was all around us. “We’re at the front lines. I need to leave to clear a path through them for us to take. Stay here. I’ll be back,” she panted out, closing her eyes, heavily, for a moment.
“Bliss,” I managed, then fell into a coughing fit.
“It’ll be OK, Callant, everything will be OK. I won’t lose you. I won’t let them take you from me too,” she replied, opening weary eyes to me before leaning forward and pecking my lips with her own. “Don’t forget, you owe me a drink of Gleece. You don’t get to escape from a promise like that,” she reminded me, then painstakingly stood to her feet, a bit shaky for the first time in all the years I had known her. “Oh, right. I need to borrow Drepane. I’ll bring it back, promise,” she added, kneeling to me, and taking my blade. Last I had known, she was already wielding it, so she must have put it back in its holster while I was out. “Be back before you know it,” she smiled as she next stood up, blew me a kiss, and then set off to do what she did best.
I laid still for a few moments more, wondering when I would next lose consciousness. That, however, did not arrive so soon. Instead, a short while after Bliss left my side, another familiar face joined it, shuffling up to me through the dusty streets of a once-city of Jaegetri. “How…are you here…Alex?” I managed before falling into coughing again.
“Easy. I’m not,” Alex Cortino replied. The Guardsman I had spoken with shortly before my abduction now stood over me, unharmed despite being deep behind enemy lines. “This one died in the assault that brought you to Valeran. But she seemed sufficiently at odds with you, so I figured she might be a fine visage for me to wield and make your acquaintance with.”
“Our…anos,” I croaked.
“Ah, not that `nos, I’m afraid,” ‘Alex’ shook her head. I paused a moment, wondering what that meant, and then my eye widened as fear took hold. “There it is, the moment of understanding. Been a long time, Blackgar, in that head of yours. You’ve let yourself go, quite literally in fact. Where have your eye and arm gone? Shall I get them back for us?”
“Go…to hell…daemon,” I spat out.
“Is that not where we are already?” Cronos, speaking with Alex’s voice, asked in reply. “Tsk, tsk, Blackgar, you really should try to keep yourself in one piece. It won’t be very much fun for me if you’re too weak to fight back.”
“Get…out…of…my…head,” I groaned.
“Oh, I’d love to. Not quite time for that yet, I’m afraid,” it shrugged via Alex’s shoulders. It then squatted down in front of me. “Anyways, I just wanted to say hi. To pop in, and let you know I’m keeping watch. Good on you for killing Valeran—or getting him killed via your Agents, in any case. I look forward to your adventure against Ouranos.”
“What…is…your…relation…to…him?” I wheezed out.
“Rival, perhaps? He is a once-mortal Champion of the one we both serve; I, however, am a Prince of the Empyrean. We seek the same goal—Annihilation—but his path is not mine. You know, Blackgar, I meant what I said about getting your body parts back. Say the word, and I will heal you and make you stronger than you could know.”
“What you offer…is not strength…but impotence,” I denied it.
“Mmm, contempt. We shall see how long that lasts,” Cronos grinned before rising to stand once more. As it did so, an Astartes approached me—another of the traitor Iron Warriors. The Astartes said nothing, but looked me over once before levying its Bolter to me and pulling the trigger. Nothing happened, and in slow, subtle movements, the Astartes began reloading the clip of its weapon. I would have thought they, like myself, would have been able to intrinsically know when their firearms were empty, but perhaps this Astartes lacked that training or augmetic informatics. “Which of us has the mind to kill him, do you think?” Cronos asked me, tapping Alex’s head toward the Iron Warrior. “You up to it? Or should I take over?”
I said nothing.
“Gotta hurry and make your choice, Blackgar; much as he’s savoring your ineptitude, he’s not that slow at this,” Cronos insisted. He then broke out into laughing, still as Alex, whose laugh I had not until then heard. “Just kidding. I don’t need you to make the choice. I’ve made it for you before, what with all those annoying Orks. You just get some rest, as that voluptuous slaughterhouse of yours so-insisted. We’ll speak again, I’m sure.”
When Bliss did eventually return, she found me slumped on my side, almost delirious, and waning in and out of consciousness. She herself was more severely wounded than she had last left me, but nevertheless wasted no time in scooping me back into her arms, my remaining power armor and all. She began to carry me away, giving me assurances that all would be well. Moments before leaving the scene altogether, she turned around, and saw naught but dust blowing in the wind. She paid it no mind.
I blacked out again shortly thereafter.