Countdown (W40K-DCverse)

For Warhammer fiction not strictly from either universe.

Countdown (W40K-DCverse)

Postby Blinded » Mon Sep 01, 2014 6:39 pm

So here's this idea that was bouncing around in my head for a while now. Whatcha think folks?

Countdown


Batman, the Dark Knight of Gotham, would have let out a litany of colorful curses or at least indulged himself with a heavy sigh or two if he was a lesser man as he continued his fruitless going through all the surviving records of that day.

That day start as the day before. A normal day with usual trials and challenges of life on planet Earth. But it was not meant to remain so.

That day all across the world Shanghai, Lagos and Istanbul, some of the most populated metropolises suddenly came under attack by an unknown enemy. From the camera feeds, official and official reports and satellite feeds he had managed to acquire he had managed to pinpoint the exact when of the attacks down with about one minute error margin.

From there had had realized the attacks, had happened in coordination and almost simultaneously.

He was to the sites of the attack as soon as he was able and they shared the looks of a warzone. Blasted buildings, wrecked cars, rampart fire and mark of various weapons, some familiar some utterly alien clear for the eye to see… where the surface was not covered in dried gore and blood, broken, burned corpses and of course marks of clumsy investigation attempts made by various governments from across
the world.

There were not very many survivors who could be called eyewitness. Those who did survive and were not reduced to gibbering wrecks incapable of talking, much less thinking straight and coherently were all living in the edge of the city which made another fact clear.

The invaders had come for the people themselves.

He pushed for a moment and magnified list of the victims on one of the monitors. Age of the missing ones was anywhere almost uniformly below forties and the few above that threshold could easily be dismissed as unidentified. In other words they took only those that were either fit for labor or could be grown for the job.

But the attackers were not all that bothered with collateral damage, killing victims of all ages in ways that made some of the Killer Croc’s look less desecrated by comparison.

He switched the monitor to another, much older report detailing attack of mysterious demons on Gotham almost a decade ago. There was an uncanny similarity between the two attacks. He sighed.

This particular incident was also on the top of his admittedly very short list of failures as both Batman and Bruce Wayne. The attack had happened when he and his ward and partner, Richard “Dick” Grayson, Robin, were in town while in their civilian identities.

A short trip to burger shop suddenly turned into a storm of miniature rockets, deafening thunder of amplified roars and crushing concrete. He had done the pragmatic thing and ran to one of his secret stashes to gear up. Dick… they got separated in the initial attack by a fallen wall and a hail of what he first assumed came from a shoulder-mounted fully automated grenade launcher.

He trusted the boy. It had only been a year since Robin had joined Batman in their eternal crusade to bring peace and order to Gotham, but between the boy’s natural talent, his skills and Batman’s own training, he was sure by the time he reached the stash Robin would already be there, grinning at him.

He was wrong. Batman remembered the twinge of worry that was mercilessly squashed as he donned his black cape and rushed toward the commotion or how he ran while thinking how to intensify Robin’s training without crossing Alfred in the process.

He also could never forget that Robin wasn’t there, and neither were the mysterious attackers, as if they had vanished into thin air.

He had pushed all the emotions to the back of his mind and did the only thing he could. He started his investigation.

While all the tracks of the attackers, a group of tall giants clad in archaic-looking, motorized heavy suits of armors the color of the night, along with Richard Grayson and twenty five other bystanders were taken away by them had indeed vanished into thin air, even that had left its own trace.

An anomaly recorded by Bat Cave’s arrays not far away from the burger shop. Distinct trace of ozone within the anomaly’s vicinity and a feeling that his well-honed senses had come to associate with arcane powers.

Back then all his leads led to dead ends. No more attacks, no clues, no answer… and Robin, his son, Richard Grayson was gone.

He had gotten over it… for the most part and Superman had stopped trying to be a dependable shoulder for him after he had taken in Jason as his new protégé. Though apparently not even the Dark Knight was skilled enough to fool Alfred.

But at long last he had a lead.

The monitor switched to a feed from of a traffic camera taken from Shanghai. The armored figures in the low quality video file matched the description of Gotham’s Demons perfectly.

They were giants, this much was obvious from comparing their size with the cars they so easily dwarfed. Their dark blue armor was not unlike that of European medieval knights… perhaps not just armor then, he wondered as for the nth time since the attacks he zoomed on the giants in the video. The figures moved with far more fluidity, speed and grace in their movements for someone so big and clad in such a massive armor.

Perhaps some sort of powered exoskeleton or maybe some sort of guided drone? Though given the attackers’ blatant displays of brutality and excessively violent terror tactics, his guess was on the former. It was not hard to imagine the creatures’ behavior as a way to make up for their physical shortcoming.

It was such a strange irony that the invading giants also wore wings of bats on their armors.
But guessing was never good enough for Batman. He wanted facts. He wanted answers… and he wanted to know what happened to Robin and the other prisoners, and perhaps the only way he could find his answers was through studying and analyzing these records these records.

Batman massaged his eyes and picked one of the sandwiches Alfred had left for him. He didn’t feel hungry, but beside the fact that he also needed his strength, he wasn’t sure he could survive a pissed Alfred if he, the Caped Crusader forgot to eat again.
Worm and W40K are both dieing worlds, but while Worm is barely managing to avoid getting swallowed up, 40K is trying to stab Death in the eye with a chainsaw. - .IronSun.
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Re: Countdown (W40K-DCverse)

Postby Midgard » Tue Sep 02, 2014 4:35 pm

Batman versus Night Lords... count me subscribed!
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Re: Countdown (W40K-DCverse)

Postby Blinded » Wed Sep 03, 2014 2:06 pm

Before sending the second snippet up I feel I should say that this is my first fanfic (a whole bunch of Omakes aside) so I'm counting on you guys to tell me when I (most assuredly) go wrong along the way. I might not be able to do much about quality of the story (plot, narration, grammar and...) on my own... :( .Btw the sad smilie doesn't look so sad... so I'll just :cry:

Part 2

“The journey had started many years ago with dream of desperate sons, continued with grand ambitions of the sons who were past the point of caring and had moved on, and now in the wake of the former’s lost dreams the latter’s ambitions has come to fruition.”

“What you have seen was but a test, a first step. The predator had tasted the prey and found it weak m unguarded and ripe for the taking. The children of the Night Haunter had seen the omens of victory; a million slaves, unspoiled by horrors of a galaxy, to toil for them, to serve them and to fill their ranks, and it’s all the proof they need to call more to their cause.”

“The hand of fate has guided us to your world and a thousand dark visions foretold your doom. The moment the first ritual tore the fabric of reality our fate was already sealed. We will come for more slaves and to feast on your fear and anguish. You [S]will [/S] face us again, mortals and you [S]will [/S] obey the Lords of the Night.”

Hunching over a tall building like a rag-covered gargoyle, the pale giant grimaced at his own words as he continued eavesdropping through the microphones he had planted across the city. It wasn’t a very good message; that he could freely admit to himself.

His… [S]English [/S], the local language he had used in the video was barely understandable through his rather Nostraman accent ad his choice of word wasn’t exactly the best given his limited vocabulary at the time. Perhaps he should have waited and familiarize himself with this language….

No, he shook his head, switching to another hidden listening device to where board of an international company were having a late night talk about how their company could recover from economic shockwaves of his brothers’ attack and perhaps turn it into a way to profit from it. Had he not been an Astartes he would have rolled his eyes at these mortals’ greed and stupidity. It was precisely because of such people that he had decided to distribute his message as soon as possible.

This world needed to know fear and in fear find unity. It was only through unity that they could even hope to survive the next raid of the Grand Company, and it was through their success that the only place he could consider as home could be spared from a fate worse than annihilation and oblivion.

He had even gone out of his way to leave some helpful clues in his message. His choice of words, the surroundings, his choice of body language shown though his armor to show anticipation or nervousness when it was needed, and even exposing some of his salvaged Mark VII armor’s weak spots by accident, the so called Heroes of Earth better be smart enough to use the gift he had given them through his internet message.

He had already made great many personal sacrifices as it was. Staying behind in this blighted world while he could have returned with the Grand Company to the Space Hulk they called home, celebrated their victory with his brother in the Tenth Claw, and tried to find a way to save his warband from damnation with his brothers by his side. Or simply he could have made a run for it, perhaps joining another warband and letting foolishness of their self-proclaimed Grand Captain to run the rest into daemons’ hungry maws.

But instead he stayed behind, alone with naught but his wargear, wits and half-forgotten memories to call upon with either success or damnation awaiting him at the end of this path. His gear, iconic in their design even before he released the video file now rested in the most suitable place he could find lest they would attract too much unwanted attention and he already missed the comfort they gave him.

His success was thus far limited to some doomsayers and as such while the rest of the world either pointedly ignored the three razed cities and lodged their heads firmly in the sand, responded with empty bravado and show of force for the enemy that neither could see them through the veil of the Warp nor would have spared them anything more than an amused twitch of pale lips if they did, or decided to respond by making all manners of jokes out of his warning-slash-threat.

Even though he had come all this way to the country housing the greatest group of Superheroes on this world for the sole purpose of meeting them and convincing them to join his cause, he still didn’t like the fact that circumstances were forcing him to reveal himself to them this early.

“… Time isn’t on my side,” he muttered bitterly, cutting off his audio feed and turning to the brightly lit streets below with a scowl. The excess of light in the costal city’s streets below him wasn’t helping with the nocturnal post-human warrior’s irate mood all that much either.

But wait! His narrowed to slits eyes widened a fraction as they caught the circling blue and red lights on top of law enforcement vehicles. They were chasing something… a criminal perhaps?

The Night Lord’s lips widened into a small grin as an idea struck him. A game of pursuit to help with his frustration perhaps, to see if he could find the law enforcers’ prey before they do. Without the benefits of his gear and given his need to stay hidden and out of sight, this could actually prove to be… fun.

He didn’t wait any longer. He descended from his perch with all the grace of a giant feline and joined the pursuit from the shadows, barely bothering to contain his growing grin as excitement of the hunt filled his body.

************************************************

Frankie let out a sigh of relief when he saw the cops drove past the dark alley he had slipped into. It was cutting it a little too close, but still… the reassuring weight of the unassuming brown bag clutched in his hand meant it worth it.

It was an easy picking too. Some stupid baldie walking around, holding a bag in his arms like his life depended on it, which probably was the case too, was just asking to be robbed.

Ever since those freaky alien robots had attacked Earth and declared war on the whole plant in the bloody Youtube, like they were one of those cheapass terrorist groups, people started to act stupidly…. Not that he minded of course, he kind of liked it. Being chased by a nearby cop car and having to ditch his stolen car aside, it was the easiest job he’d done in years. Heck, he didn’t even get to use his crowbar much less new his 9mm.

Frankie smirked with himself and took a look at his own anti-freaky alien robot strategy. Jewels, his bag was filled with jewels, and if he could sell it at half the price he thought he could he would have enough money to live the town and go hide in Alaska or something. After all anyone with half the brain knew the Earth’s latest enemies would attack only the big cities.

He would live in the great outdoors and put the survival skills his old man had thought him all those years ago to good use. A change of scenery away from the suddenly more dangerous life in big cities until Justice League or the government could find a way and deal with the alien terrorist robots, yeah, that sounded like an excellent plan, if he said so himself.

Suddenly, the thief froze. It felt as if someone was watching him from the poorly lit depths of the alley. He sincerely hoped it was an astray dog, or a cat, but it could easily be another thief looking to rob him. He grimaced, his free hand almost instinctively moving to pull out his crowbar but just as his fingertips touched the cold metal, he thought better and pulled his pistol.

“Scram buddy,” he declared in the toughest voice he could produce, waving his pistol at the deeper shadows threateningly, hoping it was just him being jumpy, “I’m not looking for trouble but ain’t afraid to shoot either.”

“You lie thief .”

Frankie almost jumped out of his skin when a deep, voice growled at him from the dark, suddenly feeling unsure if it was a good thing that his finger wasn’t on the trigger at the time.

“Sh- show yourself asshole,” he said, immediately regretting speaking as part of his mind noticed just how pathetic he sounded just then… or in fact he wanted to see whatever had spoken to him.

A large form shifted in the dark, giving Frankie the impression of a pair of eyes raising high. The thing was massive, his shadowy figure too tall, too broad to be anything within human norm. Swallowing hard, he tried to judge his distance from the main street from his own shadow. He figured he could make it before the thing, the Meta - because what else the figure could be? A robot? Some sort of alien? - could reach him.

“You can’t escape, thief ,” the Meta said, “but by all means do try. If you impress enough I might just kill you.”

‘There goes hopes of it being a hero,’ Frankie thought, shifting slightly on his feet as he prepared himself, ‘heroes don’t kill people’, and he wasn’t prepared to test if the Meta was bluffing.

“Oh fuck this!” he cursed, pulling the trigger and shooting a few rounds at the Meta’s direction as he broke into a mad dash for the street.

Ten yards. He could hear screams from the street, a not so unwelcomed side effect of his shooting.

Five yards. No sound of lumbering, heavy feet, which was perhaps a good sign. It would have been better if he had heard a cry of pain though, he felt much better if he had shot or even killed the Meta but doubted… and besides, Metas had all sorts of freaky powers which he really didn’t like to think of right now.

Two yards. He had made it! He was not standing clear of the narrow alley’s shadow. Just one more step aaaaand... he was in the clear!

Frankie’s mental celebration was short-lived however as he suddenly weight of felt a massive, gripping hand on his shoulder and the irresistible yank that threw him back into the darkness. Between the suddenness and shock of the attack and the crushing force of his impact when a second later he hit the alley’s wall, he couldn’t even breathe, much less scream.

He had heard the creak of his bones a moment ago and could feel the trickles of something warm and wet coming down his neck. ‘Definitely not a hero’ his mind supplied needlessly as he watched with wide eyes the rag-wearing giant now standing in front of him.

He didn’t look up to the giant. Instead, he tried to raise his pistol that he had somehow managed to hold unto… but his arm failed him.

“Look into my eyes Thief,” the giant ordered his voice still the unchanged.

Frankie tried to disobey, he really did, but somehow, some strange morbid fascination to look at his own death, or perhaps even an irrational hope of surviving if he obeyed the creature made him look up anyway. And when he did, he finally realized he never stood a chance to begin with.

Solid orbs of black, as dark as void itself set on a face of palest shade of white he had never seen on a human being were looking at him with what his slowly fading mind could identify as seething, burning hatred and fury. This creature was not a Meta, he realized in a moment of clarity… it was a demon and it had come to take his soul.

************************************************

It was said that the most exquisite shade of fear and despair could be achieved when the last, brightest of one’s hopes is almost realized before it was utterly snuffed out. The Night Lord could attest this statement was true, but like almost everything else in this cruel existence it was not the whole truth.

For one quality of the victim also mattered in this equation, as did the setting, the timing and the execution. And the thief here, laying half-broken, bleeding and unconscious in front of him had failed to live up to his expectations. Now perhaps he was judging the mortal rather harshly, considering it was his throw that had almost killed the pathetic creature.

He leaned to take a closer look at the mortal. Broken ribs. A fractured skull that was bleeding and as he had suspected a broken shoulder from when he grabbed it… while he did know a little about art of healing he was no apothecary and he was definitely not good enough with mortal physiology to ensure he would be able to take the broken thing alive to somewhere… more private.

He was still in the middle of contemplating whether he would put his victim out of its misery when a bright green light illuminated the sky. The, the broken mortal at his feet forgotten, Night Lord looked up and allowed his lips to stretch into a thin smile. Tonight might just turn out to be an interesting one after all.
Worm and W40K are both dieing worlds, but while Worm is barely managing to avoid getting swallowed up, 40K is trying to stab Death in the eye with a chainsaw. - .IronSun.
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Re: Countdown (W40K-DCverse)

Postby Blinded » Fri Sep 19, 2014 3:07 pm

Sorry, not an update. When it comes to Space Marines one of the most important things to consider is their and their armors' superhuman capabilities. Unfortunately BL's statement is varied and inconsistent.

For example we have Dan Abnett's work Iron Snake which depicts them as One Man Army and in work of the same author we also have Legion, in-which they are a tiny bit better than Captain America to the point someone who may or may not have been Alpharious (or Omegon) was wounded by an unaugmented (IIRC) bodyguard.

In Deathwatch RPG the game can be exploited to do hilarious things, like caber-tossing Chaos Lords in Terminator armor almost 200 meters, or Assault Marines running at 276 km/h.

Right now what I have in mind for Power Armor and a Space Marine's strength and agility while wearing it is not unlike Batman's exo-suit in Batman "The Dark Knight Returns Part 2". If it is a bit too little or a bit too much, do feel free to tell!!
Worm and W40K are both dieing worlds, but while Worm is barely managing to avoid getting swallowed up, 40K is trying to stab Death in the eye with a chainsaw. - .IronSun.
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Re: Countdown (W40K-DCverse)

Postby SIngemeister » Wed Oct 01, 2014 11:14 pm

Looks pretty good so far, but I might be biased because I'm hyped for the possibility of Green Lantern Orks.
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