#only affect a general look of contempt because that’s what I learnt from my father! 😃🤩

[ben-j-man]

Secret War: A Sanction for Sanity- chapter 2

A prequel to my 40k fanfiction Secret War.

Link to chapter 1- http://ben-j-man.tumblr.com/post/180097372453/secret-war-chapter-1

After his organization is hired to hunt down an influential ganger on the Hive world, Omnartus. Attelus Kaltos is embroiled deeper into the complex world of the Assassin. This is the job which will change him, for better or for worse, forever more.

‘I am not a partier; I am an assassin who kills people for a living. And being the dangerous job it is and that I would quite like to live past my twenties, I spend every waking hour for training. Making sure I have the necessary skills to live to see the next day.’ -Attelus Kaltos Bursting from the seams with action, intrigue, suspense and full of twists and turns. With a character driven narrative which delves deep into the mind torn asunder by war as he tries to find purpose in the grim-dark universe of 40k where there is only war.

A Sanction for Sanity: Chapter 1 link

http://ben-j-man.tumblr.com/post/181441697383/secret-war-a-sanction-for-sanity-chapter-1

Attelus Kaltos suddenly awoke, sitting bolt upright, his mind snapping into the abrupt clarity which was forced on him right from day one of the war, his Laspistol raised to cover the entrance of his makeshift living space but found no one was there.

This didn't appease his suspicious instinct so he swept his pistol to cover the entirety of the small space, sweeping it back and forth for a good minute before finally deciding he was alone. He relaxed, slightly, and that was when he realised his hands were shaking like all hell. Attelus ignored it, his hands always seemed to shake, at first he had worried about it, it had even initially affected his aim, but now he had grown used to it, to compensate when lining up a shot. He slid out from under his sleeping bag and glanced at his battered wrist chron seeing it to be midday then slowly approached the entrance of his hideout, his gun again ready. He had holed up in a basement which had survived despite the hab unit collapsing over it during the initial bombardment, this was his tenth hiding place now, the first three the enemy had forced him out. Attempting to smoke him out like a rat but after that, he had learnt his lesson. Everyone he had left within a day, now he was always on the move. But he had stayed here for two days now, far too long he decided while walking up the stairs. But this place was warm, well sheltered from the harsh Varanderian winter as constant cold southerlies and powerful northerly winds buffeted the city day and night. That was why the rest of Velrosia during peacetime had nicknamed the capital city of Velrosia "Ventilated Varander" a terrible, horrifically cheesy name but one that Attelus couldn't help but agree with. With a grunt Attelus forced open the door slowly and slightly, peering out at the ruins outside. The general area was free of anything but rubble and the wind, the frigging wind. He dropped the door and walked back down the stairs. It was daytime so he would be still stuck indoors. It was better to move at night, sure there were more enemy patrols, but he could cling to the shadows. In fact, going out during the day was almost suicide. Attelus couldn't comprehend why the enemy still insisted on holding the ruins of Varander. There was very little left standing, hardly anyone left to subjugate, so why didn't they just leave. Use the reinforcements garrisoned here to take part in the war taking place in southern Velrosia (Attelus knew of the war down south due to the almost constant explosions from that direction.) Perhaps it was the symbolism, that the city which had stood for a thousand years, surviving invasion after invasion as an embodiment of Velrosia as a country. Perhaps they wanted to show that now it was theirs forever. To rub salt into the horrific wound caused to the people of Velrosia from its destruction. On second thought why did he still insist on staying in Varander? He could be a lot safer if he fled into the thick endless bush to the north, or perhaps even find sanctity in the south. He shook away such thoughts. He didn't have the necessary supplies to flee so far and that wasn't something to dwell on now, all he needed to know was that the enemy was here and needed to think about was how to dodge their patrols, how to survive. Attelus began to methodically pack up his supplies. He wasn't leaving for a good nine hours, but it didn't hurt to be prepared, just in case. He paused as he finished with his sleeping roll, seeing his sheathed sword lying on the floor at the end of his bed. Ever since the start of the war, Attelus had refused to use the monomolecular enhanced blade, instead electing to use his stolen Laspistol, throwing knives and the knife he had taken from his first kill. It was idiotic perhaps, but just looking at that sword brought back memories, his father, Serghar Kaltos had given it to him when he was a child and he had trained with it for years. It was ironic really, the weapon he had learnt to kill with so effectively and finally when he had the opportunity to use it he didn't, he couldn't. It caused him to remember all that he had lost and he couldn't afford to remember, remembering was the worst thing to do when in such a fight for survival. Attelus turned away from the sword. But still, he insisted on carrying it. It was dead weight as long as he so strongly refused to use it. Perhaps it was because one day maybe he could bring himself to wield it. It was then he heard the yell, a huge bark in the harsh language of the invaders. The sound penetrating through the ceiling of the basement with ease. Attelus almost jumped out of his skin, his pistol suddenly ready, his leaping heart lodged in his throat. Have they found him? He heard the all too familiar sound of Las fire followed by a piercing scream that sent shivers up his spine. Someone ran straight over his basement, their feet lightly shaking the ceiling and he could hear the gasping of what sounded like a woman. He stood frozen unsure what to do. A second later, her pursuers ran over the basement, reverberating the entire room with their horrifically heavy footfalls. They weren't after him, that he was sure, but who was it they were chasing? Someone like him? Should I go out there? He thought, should I try to help her? No, let her handle it, she was stupid enough to allow herself to get caught. Why should I go and risk myself to save her stupid skin? He suppressed a sigh, in all honesty, the only reason why he had lived so long at all was because of the training. Serghar had taught him in the necessary skills for survival, not many people could claim such aide. He had been alone for so long now, he was always a recluse, always a loner. But now he realised with a start, he was lonely actually, truly lonely and fear fell over him, fear like he had never felt before. Attelus immediately snatched up his flak jacket, slipping it on with one swift motion, then made for the door throwing away the pretence of precaution as he bashed them open and emerged into the sunlight. Immediately, he fell into a desperate reckless sprint, so much so, that he almost tripped and fell. He was now a creature of instinct, a creature completely attuned for survival so running out so recklessly into the middle of the day seemed anathema to his very being, but something was overriding it. This fear, something deep down in him knew if he didn't at least attempt to save this girl, this person, that all this scavenging and killing and desperation would be for nothing. Then to the east, he heard it, more Las fire and from the sound of it was an intense exchange indeed. Attelus slid to a halt and for a few seconds was at war with himself, every ounce of him seemed to scream for him to turn, run back to the relative safety of his basement, but the fear was still there, the fear made his chest tight made it hard to draw breath, he had no idea why it made him run right into danger usually, the fear made him stay away. But this was not fear for his life but for something more, something that Attelus couldn't quite understand in his instinctive state, but he knew it was important, beyond important. Without any further hesitation, Attelus ran on sprinting over the rubble right toward the guns. As he came closer, and the sound of gunfire became more intense, Attelus slowed his pace. Starting to sneak through the ruins moving quickly but cautiously. He came to the ruins of what looked to be an old store that had been utterly caved in by an artillery shell; he could hear the gunfire coming from the opposite side of the ruins. Pushing his back against what was left of the wall, Attelus cautiously approached the corner and peered around it. What he saw made a cruel smile spread over his slender face, a corpse laid in the curb near the next corner, the body wearing the purple flak armour of the invaders. Attelus slid out from cover, his Las pistol raised and approached the body. It looked like someone had unloaded an entire clip of las rounds point black into his torso as evident from the scorching, gaping hole in his chest. The teenager bent down and took the Las pistol from the corpse's holster, all the while, intentionally ignoring the man's face, a face which was mutated, changed into something almost unrecognisable as human. Changed by whatever foul god that the invaders worshipped. Quickly he checked that the pistol's charge was full and moved onto the next corner with both guns held tightly in his quivering hands, then he looked. About twelve metres down the alleyway were nine purple armoured figures, their backs to him as they hugged cover behind a broken mound of rockcrete, as they exchanged fire with someone at the alley's end, which was a dead end. Attelus smiled again and shook his head in complete contempt. The idiots were so intent on their initial prey that they had utterly forgotten to cover their backs. A mistake that they wouldn't live to make again. He swiftly stepped out from the corner, with both Laspistols raised to cover the attackers as he almost casually approached them. They never noticed him until he opened fire, shooting the furthest two attackers simultaneously, and as the rest turned to face this new threat, he shot the next most distant pair. The one in the middle of the line as he turned, his raised Lasgun was abruptly kicked from his grasp then his teeth knocked in with the butt of a Laspistol. Without hesitation Attelus lunged forward, so now to be standing between the two comrades, who were at once on the unconscious soldier's flanks. Attelus' side kick connected with the left side soldier's guts, connecting so hard, that he was literally flung into the man behind him and they both collapsed into a heavy heap of limbs. The next on Attelus' right attempted to face Attelus but the teenager's pistol smashed him in the back of the neck, stunning the man and forcing him to bend double forwards with the impact, allowing Attelus a clear shot at the next invader. The teenager's pistol spat twice caving in the soldier's mutated face; then he kneed the last stunned soldier straight in the throat the blow threw the Invader onto his back, gasping on the ground and clutching his neck. Without hesitation, Attelus finished them all off with four point-blank blasts of his Laspistol. This was what his father taught him to do to, use surprise to its fullest, to be efficient, merciless and Attelus couldn't help but feel his father would be proud. "Hello?" the voice cut through the quiet, bringing Attelus back into reality, and he ducked swiftly to hide behind the debris. "Hello?" the woman called again, and he could hear her careful footsteps on the beaten ground, "hello? I'm not going to hurt you." Attelus couldn't respond, as pain suddenly shot through his chest and his hands began to shake worse than usual. He had no idea what to say, what to do. After so long being alone, after only ever encountering humans who were trying to kill him, finally meeting someone who meant him no harm, that terrified the young survivor more than he cared to admit. "Hello," the woman said softly as if to a child, "you can come out, I mean you no harm." She was getting closer to Attelus, and if he didn't act soon, she would be right on top of him. He swallowed back his fear, clenched his teeth and in a split second, stood up with both pistols raised to cover her. "Whoa!" the woman cried out, her hands quickly rose in supplication. She wore the familiar black with white trim flak armour that belonged to the Velrosian attachment of the planetary defence force, she was also awfully attractive with a heart-shaped face and noble elfin features, her large eyes widened with fright, a piercing blue, her long deep black hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her Lasgun hung loosely from her shoulder, but Attelus took special note of a long sword sheathed behind her back. "I am not here to hurt you," she said again slowly. Her eyes attached firmly to his, "I am sergeant Estella Erith, of the Velrosian P.D.F. I am here to help you, now please put the guns down-" As she said this, Estella had attempted to take a slow step closer, but the sudden violent gesture from Attelus' guns made her go no further. "Alright," she said with a smile, "alright. I don't know how long you have been alone in these ruins for, but it is obviously long enough that you now find it hard to tell friend from foe, but, I can tell you, I can swear on my mother's grave that we are on the same side, I am not your enemy, now please lower your guns." The boy clenched his jaw even tighter, and the guns didn't move even an inch. Something within him wanted to do it, but the rest of him wouldn't let him, he couldn't begin to believe that now, finally, he had found a friend, it just seemed just too good to be true. A slight impatient frown creased her attractive face. "Okay, now I am going to reach for my gun and I swear I am not going to try to shoot you with it, I am going to place it on the ground so that I can't attack you if you drop your pistols, you can kill me if you see me do anything even slightly suspicious, okay?" Despite himself, he answered her with a slight nod. "Okay," and slowly Estella reached for her Lasgun, slowly she slid it off her shoulder, slowly she placed it on the ground, and she kicked it away and well out of reach all the while keeping her gaze locked onto his, then she got back to full height. For what felt like hours, the pair just stood silently facing each other while Attelus fought a desperate war within himself, but finally with a painful gasp, he lowered his guns. Estella let out a sigh of relief, "now can I approach you without you shooting me?" she asked lightly. He managed another nod, as suddenly he felt incredibly weary, wearier than he had ever felt before. She smiled, nodding pleasantly back and walked to him, but halfway there she suddenly stopped in her tracks, an expression of severe shock on her face but it was gone as quickly as it came. "So," she said when she approached but still keeping a respectful distance, "can I ask what your name is then?" Attelus nodded again, finding himself already warming to her infectious smile. Estella's eyes widened in an almost comical fashion, "so what is your name then?" They came out almost immediately, the first words he had spoken since the start of the war: "My name... My name is Attelus. Attelus Kaltos," his once soft voice, now harsh and gravelly from a long time of disuse. "Well I am pleased to meet you Attelus Kaltos," she said, holding out her hand to him. He hesitated, immediately feeling the fear begin to creep back again. "Don't be afraid Attelus," she assured him softly and something in her eyes immediately made it disappear. For the first time in a long time, a genuine smile split across his dirty bruised face, and he took her hand in his, his calm no longer shaking, hand. "Pleased to meet you too, Estella Erith," he replied. Standing on the ruins of what was once the greatest cities in Velrosia, perhaps even the greatest city on the entire planet of Elbyra, they shook hands in the ancient Terran way.