This is the Liber Astartes, PART II

[Conn Eremon]

Cormac slammed shoulder first into the wall, his momentum carrying him too far into the turn. He gritted his teeth with a grunt and pushed himself off to continue running. His helmet had been lost weeks ago, his strong, proud face marred by unkempt facial hair and sallow cheeks. Despite the whine of servos and the superhuman effort, it was difficult for Cormac to gain speed again. It was as if the strange, oil-like sheen that seemed to hover in the air itself was slowing him down. But he could hear the howls behind him, the unnatural barks of insanity made flesh, and they were not slowed down in the slightest. Cormac needed to get back up to the second floor, find that entrance uncovered so long ago, and return to the Liber proper. He could not say with any honesty what his plans were once he got there. Rally his brother Liberites and lead a rescue party back into this hell, or seal the portal, damning the fates of so many who had followed that damned fool. His mind was not conflicted on it; he simply did not have the time to focus on that kind of problem, not when he had so many of his own.

 

How far from the second floor was he? It had taken him days just to find his way off the basement’s third level, the labyrinthine network of cavernous hallways and rooms made all the more difficult to navigate when being assaulted from all sides. No, no, he was up to the first floor now. How could he forget? It was emblazoned on the placard low on the wall near the stairwell they had just come up; the one Aquilanus had gripped with bloodied hands before they dragged him back down. Cormac growled at the memory, reminding himself that he had only heard three shots fired before the silence. Not even enough time to charge the stairwell, let alone save his brother. From that point, it had just been Cormac. The rest had become divided, or were taken. Maybe some had found alternative routes upward. Throne, maybe some had already made it and were on their way back with an army at their backs.

 

There was an impact against his backpack, slamming him once more into the wall. Cormac yelled, not in pain but in anger, and threw an elbow backward, in the direction of the sound of snarling and slobbering. It connected and the sounds turned to yelps. With the weight off his back, Cormac whirled around like a dancer in molasses, drawing his sword. Instinct would have had him chop into the beast before him with an overhead blow, but Cormac knew he would be too slow. Its misshapen jaws would be around his throat before he could bring it down. So he thrust it forward, letting the inevitable leap bring the beast directly onto its point. The beast was heavy, but not so heavy that his armor could not handle the weight. It squirmed on the end before Cormac pinned it to the ground, and ended its struggle with a single stomp of his armored boot.

 

He had killed enough of these things to not care to linger and study, but something terribly unexpected happened just as Cormac was about to tear off again. The contorted body shimmered, like a reflection on clear waters broken by ripples. It stretched and cracked, until it had transformed itself into the body of an unarmored Marine. Not just any Marine, but a fellow Liberite. One of the Moderati.

 

“Oh, Olisredan . . . So your squad was overtaken as well?” Cormac muttered to himself, his words barely a whisper. None of the other daemonic things had died this way, but he forced himself to continue running rather than dwell on this new development. Perhaps, if he had, he would have noticed that the strange, multi-colored sheen was dissipating, the sounds of other beasts on the hunt growing fainter. He let himself slip back into the single-minded pursuit of getting out of there. After a few uneventful hours of getting lost once more, came upon another corner. Turning it, Cormac caught just a glimpse of stairs leading up before he was once more clipped by something heavy, slamming him backwards.

 

“Emperor frakk it all, I hate corners!” Cormac roared, raising his bolt pistol and drawing a bead on whatever thing had caught up to him this time.

 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold on, Cormac, it’s me! Terra, where did you come from? Wait, where did you come from? Isn’t the whole point of me running point and scouting ahead is that you and the rest of the squad are behind me? . . . And what the Warp happened to your face?”

 

The barrel wavered, and slowly lowered. Cormac raised and threateningly pointed a finger.

 

“What in the Emperor’s name are you doing here, Ace? Last time I saw you, you were ash smeared on the wall when that damned Geller Field generator you found started malfunctioning. Then Chaos erupted, and I do mean the kind with a capital ‘C!’ All because your fool self had to go and blow up a damned oven a month ago.”

 

“Bah! It was heroic, is what it was. They’ll sing songs of it, the Ballad of the Ovenslayer!”

 

“Ovenslayer? Dragonslayer, Daemonslayer, Godslayer, now you lay claim to the title Ovenslayer? My how the mighty have fallen.”

 

“I will lay claim to whatever title I have rightf-- Cormac, did you say I took out that obscenity a month ago?”

 

“Gah! There’s no time for this, we have to . . . By the Emperor, we need to seal these levels off from the rest of the Liber, lest its corruption seep in. Come on,” Cormac grabbed the edge of Ace’s pauldrons as he spoke, forcing him to follow to up the stairs. Ace resisted and forced off Cormac’s grip.

 

“Wait, damn it. Wait! Cormac, it’s been three days. It has been only three days since I got rid of that infernal oven. We only just started on our quest down today, and I am pretty sure I’m the first to reach this floor.”

 

Cormac’s face crinkled in thought as the pieces fell into place and the creeping dawn of understanding rose.

 

“The fluctuating Geller Field . . . It let the Warp affect the lower regions. Not entirely, just enough to thin the barriers. It must have messed with the flow of time as well. I haven’t just made it back above. I made it back above before I even got below. Do you know what this means, Ace?”

 

“. . . That the pressures of leadership might be a bit too much for your psyche, sir?”

 

“No, no. Well, maybe. But it also means that we have a chance to stop what is going to happen, before it happens. You don’t need to die, nobody needs to die. This ill-fated quest won’t doom so many of us to eternal life as the fell beasts of the damned. Quick, lead us back to myself. Wait, no. I remember where I was. Follow me. And this time hurry!”

 

+-=-+-=-+-=-+-=-+-=-+-=-+-=-+-=-+-=-+-=-+-=-+-=-+-=-+-=-+-=-+

 

 

 

Dadededah! Shenanigan presented.

 

Just in case anyone is wondering, no I do not have a conclusion planned for this. Come on, you just read the above and know how terrible a writer I am. You honestly think I can plan a story arc? I don’t even know what is going to happen next! :D

 

But now everyone knows that it goes at least as deep as B3, and from the first floor down everything is Warp-touched, and time itself is in fluctuation. Meaning everyone has the opportunity to interact with their future selves! And hopefully save them, too. Because they’re you, in the future. They die, you die. In the future. When you become what they already are when you first meet them, as you catch up to them, timewise speaking. Jesus, this is giving me a headache.

 

Just remember that you have to do something, or else the future will repeat itself. When that future becomes the present. It’ll never become the past though, because there will be no past from that point on. In the future.

 

Time travel is hard. You gotta give mad props to the doc.

 

You know who.

[Madwolf Shadowmane]

Having been recently extracted from a pit trap Ace was back on point creeping around a corner.  He creeping around in the dark navigating solely by the light of his headlamp.  As he glances back to check on the rest of his squad he was startled by a pair of glowing green eyes in the darkness behind him. 

 

"Iron Seer Ace, would you like some help in your scouting duties?", whispered the disembodied eyes.

 

Ace directed his lamb at the eyes and recognized the savage visage of Red Hand Madwolf Shadowmane of the Hounds of the Hunt.

 

"Don't do that.  Quit being so sneaky in the dark like that," exclaimed Ace.

 

"I was simply offering to assist you in your scouting duties.  I wanted to keep you out of any more pits.  I could scout ahead of you and the Moderati would be none the wiser."

 

 

*Ok, Ace now lets get into some trouble*

[Ace Debonair]

Time travel?

I'm about to have the funnest fun with this.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"Are you sure this is the right way, Cormac?"

"I'll be honest, Ace, after the month I've had I'm doing well to remember there's a floor above all this madness."

"Only I think we want the turning we just went past. This one's a dead end."

"I think Ace is right," Madwolf scratched his head. "Curious, I could have sworn I'd marked the turning earlier."

Cormac stopped. Now because he wanted to, per se, but because the Liberites were left staring at a wall.

"Emperor help us." Cormac sighed. "And damn whoever designed this ungodly labyrinth."

However, even as he spoke, there was a noise that sounded like a power weapon activating, but deeper, much deeper. The three Liberites stared in amazement as a blue speck of light appeared between them. It grew to almost a metre across, then a hand clad in black armour reached out suddenly, grabbed Ace's Codex-Approved Throwing Chainaxe by the hilt and pulled it back into the hole, which closed with a 'pop'. There was a faint cry of the word 'Aha!' as the portal shut.

"Hey! Give that back!," Ace yelled at the empty space where the weird light had disappeared.

"This just gets weirder and weirder." Cormac mused. "Let's get back to the first floor and you can at least re-arm yourself."

The three Liberites made their way back to the last turning, Ace casting suspicious glances back at where the hole had appeared.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Oh yes. This is gonna be fun.

EDIT:

I don't have a story arc in mind, just one little thing that I simply must have happen somewhere in the story.

To that end, I'm hoping everyone else carries the story on because I'm darn sure not writing out the whole lot.

But if everyone else could leave the 'vanishing chainaxe' vanished in their story for now, I'd appreciate it.

Edited February 9, 2014 by Ace Debonair

[Madwolf Shadowmane]

The three Astartes cautiously made their way back to the last turning.  As they neared the corner all light in the corridor dimmed suddenly.  When the lights returned the shadows had condensed into vaguely humanoid shapes.  The nearest shadow beast swiped at Madwolf and as he dodged its claw gouged three furrows into his breast plate.  Instinctively the three moved back to back to back. 

 

"I have a bad feeling about this." stated Cormac.  As the shadows packed in all that was visible of the individual beasts were their glowing yellow eyes.

 

"Friends of yours, Madwolf?" remarked Ace. 

 

"These beasts are no kin of mine, Iron Seer." replied Madwolf.

 

The beasts collectively crouched as if preparing to rush the trio.

 

The three Astartes cautiously made their way back to the last turning.  As they neared the corner all light in the corridor dimmed suddenly...

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

A repeating time loop to satisfy the Time travel madness. 

[Ace Debonair]

This time, Madwolf had his combat knife at the ready, and as the creatures' claws reached out to strike him, he stabbed it in the hand. The creature yelped and leapt back as it's pack, or mob, or whatever the correct designation for a group of shadowy creatures is, charged.

Ace instinctively reached for his chainaxe, but recovered quickly enough to turn the move into a hefty backhand slap that caused the creature to stagger. As Cormac pulled up what looked like Ludovic's bolter and shot two more of the beasts in the chest in quick succession, Madwolf tackled the largest one, stabbing with wild abandon at the creature's torso. For his part, Ace locked up one of the creature's arms and twisted hard, throwing the creature into a wall. Another leapt at him and was pummelled under a flurry of painful, carefully placed punches, elbow strikes and powerful kicks to the creature's joints. This was Ga'rask Savaz, the premier martial art of Kagara whose translated name meant 'inflicting a relentless agony'. The beleagured hissed at Ace as he continued to batter at it's limbs until they had the consistency of jelly. Cormac silenced the creature by stomping heavily on it's head as it fell, and Madwolf scrambled to his feet, his knife coated in the larget's creature's thick, grey-black blood.

As quickly as they had appeared, the creatures vanished, leaving behind nothing but the stains of their spilt blood.

"Fun times," Ace said, wryly. "What in The Emperor's name were those things?"

"Shadows, of a sort." Cormac shrugged. "Not as tough as the ones I had to kill earlier, though. Now come on, we need to get back to the front end of the Culinarium."

"You alright, Madwolf?" Ace asked, as the Hound wiped his blade clean on a piece of grimy cloth. The creature's claws had raked the back of Madwolf's armour heavily and dented parts of his power pack, but the Liberite seemed in good health.

"Never better, Iron Seer. Disabling the creature's arms makes them almost pitiably ineffective combatants - next time we will be ready for them."

The trio of Liberites continued towards the surface, ever watchful for moe enemies.

So I don't know what's going to happen when we get back to the Culinarium.

Presumably future (if that's the guy in the story at he moment) and present (if he's back in the Culinarium still) Cormac are going to come face-to-face?

Also, I just turned the whole conversation about the boxing match and not using my signature style when rules are involved into sweet foreshadowing, so yay for random encounters!

[Conn Eremon]

Some bit back, I think you wrote Messor telling you to scout ahead for Cormac's squad. Apparently it was some form of punishment, though I am not sure which part. Being reduced to scout or being under my command?

 

So I assume Previously is leading his squad in whichever direction you, as scout, are scouting ahead of. Though perhaps you are doing some preliminary scouting and he could still be back at the mess hall, wrangling up a squad. And yes, a confrontation between him and Coming Soon should happen. Hopefully it won't be a time-destroying paradox!

[Ace Debonair]

Being reduced to scout was the punishment, we're all equally-ranked here.

...Apart from the Mods, obviously.

But being sent by myself into the unknown perils of the Culinarium's labyrinthine second floor at double-time was my punishment for Vortex-'Nading that ghastly oven.

I'm also sort of waiting for you to meet future you, or past you or whichever way around it is, 'cause I don't know what sort of reaction past and future Cormac will have to each other.

Oh man, this story is gonna get confusing fast.

EDIT:

Only took me a month to spot I'd been asked a question.

Sweet Emperor's Eyebrows, that's a startling lack of awareness on my part.

Edited March 12, 2014 by Ace Debonair

[Conn Eremon]

It was a rhetorical question, actually. :sweat:

 

Just trying to be funny (What's worse, being demoted or being stuck with me?).

 

I do have some ideas on how that overly violent encounter will go down, but I'm being lazy about writing it.

[Aqui]

There was only darkness. At first Aquilanus struggled, firing the remaining shots in his Bolt pistol. The ammunition hit a wall he could not see, but there was definitely something restraining him. Trying to reach for his knife, the Equaliser, the only name every one of his component minds could agree on, he swung blindly, hitting nothing solid, but feeling resistance all the same.

 

Curses on all incorporeal lifeforms!

 

Save the vitriol for later one said I've got a bad feeling about this

 

What could be worse than this?

 

There was a mental sighing as the others began to berate that one.

 

You HAD to ask...

 

With his arms firmly forced down, the knife tumbled to the ground. Gasping desperately for air, the Marines' sight became blinded by a light.

 

You have a task ahead of you.

 

Who the feth said that?

 

Wasn't me

 

Nor I

 

Me neither

 

Wasn't me

 

Graaaah!

 

That voice is too deep to be mine

 

A pregnant pause whilst they waited for the voice to continue.

 

Ahem The new comers voice was irritated by the interruption I have summoned you here for a purpose...

 

Don't even think about saying it admonished one of Aquilanus' personalties to the others. What do you want? "We mean, what do you want?"

 

You have been given a task of great import.

 

"Cryptic much?"

 

There was another pause, as if the unknown being was consulting others. Are you sure? To me, he seems a complete.. "Yes, well, you have a task. A hard one. Here."

 

Something materialised out of the very air.

 

"Oh feth!" Aquilanus' thoughts were confirmed.

 

The bright light intensified, becoming unbearable, his senses temporarily unable to function. Coming too moments later, Aquilanus got up groggily from the floor. As his equilibrium was regained, he kept his eyes away from his armour.

 

Well? Someone needs to have a look!

 

I can't bear to!

 

Damn it, I will!

 

Moments passed.

 

Well?

 

Well, what?

 

Did you see it?

 

I wasn't serious! What do you take me for? Don't answer that.

 

In their collective periphery, they could make something out on their left shoulder.

 

Oh feth!

 

Well said the first voice There's nothing left for it.

 

Heading back up the stairs, Aquilanus shook his head. An unexpected turn of events, and the story has barely started.

 

Who said that?

 

Oh, that's just one of the Narrators. Don't worry about it...

Edited March 13, 2014 by Aquilanus

[Ace Debonair]

Ahem The new comers voice was irritated by the interruption I have summoned you here for a purpose...

 

Don't even think about saying it admonished one of Aquilanus' personalties to the others.

Ace shuddered. Madwolf looked at him, puzzled.

 

"What ails you, Iron Seer?"

 

"Uh, nothing. I just thought I felt an opportunity to use a timeless line slip past, somewhere nearby."

[Olis]

Looking upon Brother Argos, an honoured sight indeed, the Moderati knelt. Was this what Ludovic was here for? It had been so long since the last reported sighting of this fabled figure that simply any glimpse of him would raise eyebrows and pique interests. Amid the rows upon rows of Armourium paraphernalia Argos approached in very much the manner Olis expected a saint might, or a holy man; sure of foot yet in no rush, benevolent yet determined. 

 

"Hold out your hand, Moderati." Argos commanded. Olis could just make out ghost-images of individuals behind him but, with the definition so faint, he could not recognise them. Olis held out his hand. In it Argos placed an object no larger than a throwing ball and consisting of silver clockworks. It ticked and chirruped and hummed like a contented hummingbird. 

 

"Now go." Spoke this mysterious, legendary figure. The Moderati made to rise but found that he was already elsewhere other than the Armourium. He couldn't be certain but he could have sworn that he had just relocated thanks to Brother Argos rather than the device. Ludovic would have to wait. Or look after himself. 

 

"You are needed elsewhere." Came a disembodied voice. The tone and timbre of the voice belied it's owner - Argos. Not being a great believer of destiny hampered the idea of 'being favoured' for the Moderati. He was nothing special, not considering the shoulders of giants he was on. His predecessors were figures of myth and legend, the further back you delved into the tomes of the Moderati. Granted pages went missing, entries were scratched out or tomes became damaged or lost. But that didn't alter the idea that, chosen he may be, it could all very well be down to right place, right time. Just what exactly could mark out Olis from any other Moderati? Not a lot, in his opinion, if anything.

 

Ruminating upon what had happened distracted Olis from more... pressing matters. He didn't notice the murk, nor did he notice the hounds creeping up on him. The smell of taint and the heavy air, however, did bring him around. Eyes regarded him as much as a fat man regards his dinner plate. Saliva dripped to the floor. A low growl pierced the murk.

 

His reponse was swift - removing his mag locked helm from his hip and donning it, the Moderati brought his Volkite weapon around to bear on the hounds, no, daemons with his other hand. The un-aimed fusillade scattered the pack, even burning one with a red bolt and reducing it to ashes. Many more faces loomed out of the murk, some much larger than the others. Time to run.

 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Alright. I got sick of being on my own. ^_^

 

(Not exactly thrilled that I now have to thwart my own death, somehow. :rolleyes:)

[Aqui]

Olisredan ran for what seemed like hours. Every fibre of his being screamed at him to turn and aim his Volkite weapon at his assailants, but there was a lot more at stake than pride or battle lust. The tiny device given him by the immaterial form of the Legio's Founder needed to be taken elsewhere and that was what he was going to do. Seeing the narrow corner turn sharply to the left, the Moderatii decided that he needed to slow the creatures down. Rather than turn into the corner, he put his right shoulder forward and smashed his way through the wall and crashed out of the other, his momentum barely shaken. The vile animals were not perturbed however, as they seemed to anticipate his move and their forms glowed briefly as they shifted directly through the reinforced ceramite support, ghost like.

 

Blasted apparitions!

 

Seeing the end of the corridor, Olisredan pushed his form faster, hoping beyond hope that the door was not one of the special ones he himself had petitioned to have erected to stop the Wolves of Fenris from stealing the Wolf Whizz...

 

The door slammed open, beyond was a darkness even the strongest Astartes eyesight was unable to penetrate.

 

"Down, Brother" commanded a voice. Olisredan recognised it immediately, but the figure was...changed somehow, something he couldn't put a finger on. Until the figure fired his weapon.

 

A Melta. The mainstay of a Moderatii, all other Marines below said rank were forbidden to hold one, much less use one in combat. Verboten Extremis. The energy discharge flew past Olisredan's face, the heat was unbelievable. The creatures behind him recoiled at the light given off, the energy hitting one daemonic creature dead centre. There was, however, no explosion, no incineration, no flying body parts. Nothing. It was almost as if the creature had never existed.

 

Perhaps it didn't mused Olisredan.

 

"Brother. Are you battle ready?"

 

"Yes, but..."

 

"No time to explain here," interrupted the other, their eyes unable to move from the object he was holding. "I will explain on the way."

 

I? thought Olisredan surprised.

 

"Come on, Brother."

 

Following the blue armoured Marine, Olisredan mused that today was just another day in the Liber...

[Olis]

It seemed like days but the chronometer inside the Moderati's helm blinked at 00:00 - a sign the suit had given up trying to account for time in this haze and had, bizarrely, reset itself. Even a machine spirit senses the malice here.

 

At times they had run, others they had fought. Both had become increasingly dirty with ichor and gore, obscuring their heraldry and other markings. It had taken a moment of clarity, caught in a moment where had he been shaking one of the daemon-hounds of off his arm, for Olis to hazard a guess at who he was with.

 

"Aquilanus?" He tried after they had cleared themselves of the beasts. At the time, there was no answer except a lingering stare. Perhaps the guess wasn't correct after all.

 

It wasn't until they came across an intersection, watching their own selves pass by that the mysterious marine/moderati spoke again.

[Ace Debonair]

Good stuff so far, guys.

I've got a doozy of an idea, but I've got to sit on it for now until Cormac and Cormac come face to face and I can go haring off again to set certain events in motion.

[Aqui]

Good stuff so far, guys.

I've got a doozy of an idea, but I've got to sit on it for now until Cormac and Cormac come face to face and I can go haring off again to set certain events in motion.

Just remember that two Aquilanus' equals 14 different personalities! ...Or does it?

[Ace Debonair]

I have no earthly idea how I'm going to pull this idea off, by the way. So once I start it's going to be ridiculous improv from beginning to end.

Like 95% of the stuff I've done in this thread, now I think about it.

All I'll say for now is it's funny how sometimes ideas just seem to fall into place. It's almost like it all happens for a reason...

[Conn Eremon]

"It's a 100% of what I do!" Cormac says, surprising absolutely nobody.

 

Now that I know somebody's champing at the bit, and after getting my madness somewhat validated, I'll see about putting something up a little later on tonight.

[Nomus Sardauk]

Good stuff so far, guys.

I've got a doozy of an idea, but I've got to sit on it for now until Cormac and Cormac come face to face and I can go haring off again to set certain events in motion.

Just remember that two Aquilanus' equals 14 different personalities! ...Or does it?

You never know, Future Aquilanus may have added a few more by the time he meets his Past Self. :p

[Heru]

Good stuff so far, guys.

I've got a doozy of an idea, but I've got to sit on it for now until Cormac and Cormac come face to face and I can go haring off again to set certain events in motion.

Just remember that two Aquilanus' equals 14 different personalities! ...Or does it?

Pretty sure Aquilanus math works out that if two Aquilanus's were in the same room, each would only have half of the personalities.

[Aqui]

You never know, Future Aquilanus may have added a few more by the time he meets his Past Self.

Never a truer word spoken in jest! (Technically, the count as of now is actually 8 personalities. There aretwo Bahltimyr Reavers in there, only the bat poo bonkers one actually says, or snarls anything...for now. But shhhh! The others don't know yet! )

Pretty sure Aquilanus math works out that if two Aquilanus's were in the same room, each would only have half of the personalities.

No, it would still be eight. Just eight twice over...although I have been thinking of making them all merge together again, permanently.

Edit: Don't what the hell happened there...

Edited March 14, 2014 by Aquilanus

[Ace Debonair]

I suddenly realise all the software faults could be the results of alternate pasts and futures confusing the out of the forum.

And then I realise it's gone midnight, because I'm only ever that insane when it's past my bedtime.

[Conn Eremon]

It seemed that there was a special rule in this region. No matter where you are, no matter how good your senses, others appear right in front of you as if out of nowhere. And always, always around a frakking corner. Ace voiced his own doubts.

 

“Whoa! What were you guys doing, running double-time? You’re a heck of a lot farther than I rather expected,” Ace said, glancing at the Madwolf, who gave a quiet nod in agreement.

 

“Double-time? We’ve been taking our Emperor damned time, since you never returned to debrief us on your scouting runs. Not on the first scheduled meet, not on the fifth, nor any in between,” Cormac replied, at the head of the squad, his frown evident in his voice if not visible through the helm.

 

“Five? That’s fifteen hours Terran standard. It’s not even time for me to double-back the first time!” Ace argued.

 

“Peace, brother. As I said, time is behaving . . . strangely here. It appears more than just space separates us all in this ancient labyrinth,” the Cormac who had accompanied Ace stated, stepping around the scouting pair and presenting himself before his other self. The other Cormac released his helm with a hiss and a loud click, cradling it at his side. His yellow eyes squinted slightly as he gave the familiar figure before a single once-over, followed by deep sniff.

 

“So, future me, then.”

 

“It does appear to be the case, past self.”

 

The two gripped forearms as warriors do, a camaraderie easily and readily achieved. Ace, however, was having none of it.

 

“Wait a minute, hold on. That was it? ‘One glance, one sniff, yep, future me?’ How is that a normal reaction?” Ace objected, stepping to the side of the two Cormacs and frowning with confusion at both of them in turn.

 

“What else need there be? He has my body; he has my blood. My senses and my soul confirm it. He is me,” past Cormac said, releasing the grip. “What else were you expecting?”

 

Ace threw up his hands. “Throne, I don’t know. Deny and defy? Attack each other until only one of you remains? Destroy all reality as paradoxes compound?”

 

At the last, future Cormac let out a laugh of true amusement. “Don’t be foolish, Ace. There was never anything to fear about this encounter.”

 

Future Cormac chose to ignore Ace’s grumblings about who were really the foolish ones here to look back at his past self and speak of matters more serious. “There is a reason why we are here together in this time. Something dire happens further on that we all need to be prepared for. Maybe if I am in your time, we have a chance to stop it from happening. If not, if you are in mine, then it is too late to prevent but maybe we can contain it.”

 

“Speak, self. Whatever it is that I suffer through in the future, it will not be able to stand against us together,” past Cormac encouraged. The group began to move to a nearby junction of paths, where there was enough space for them to gather more comfortably.

 

“Indeed. Further down, in the third level of the basement, there is a room of heretical technologies. Many of which was beyond the ken of the Techmarines, though one of the machines proved to be some sort of modified Geller Field generator. In the process of examining the equipment, someone, I know not who, must have activated one of the fell devices. I was outside of the room, but I looked in as soon as I heard the whine and buzz of electronics. By the empty silence of Corax, it all happened so very fast. Streams of plasma fire lanced across the room like unending streams of liquid fire, linking emitters implanted within the wall. Ace here was standing in plain view at the center of the room when it happened. I saw him be speared through by no less than four beams, turned to boiling ash before he could even flinch. A lot of equipment detonated, and I think that’s what –“

 

“What did you just say?” Past Cormac had tensed up and frozen, the words said in accusation. Sensing there was something else wrong, something about what he had said that might have meant more to his past self than he could think of, the future Cormac stopped walking and turned, confusion plain across his haggard face.

 

“What is it?”

 

“You,” Cormac of the Emerald Tigers, successor of the proud line of Macragge and devoted son of the Imperial hero, Angron, growled, forcing each word out with clear effort, “are not me.”

 

In spite of those words, the two mirrored each other perfectly as swords were drawn and ignited.

[Ace Debonair]

"Oh, for Throne's sake." Ace stepped between the two, motioning for them to stand down. "Look, save it for now. Somebody's got to warn the Moderati that something is messing with time or whatever is going on. If there's a room full of evil heretical tech, then I can't think of a better dose of medicine than a few melta guns."

 

There was a long pause as everyone present digested the fact that Ace Debonair was being the voice of reason, an idea entirely counter to the norm in the Liber.

 

"So why don't you go and do that, and leave me to fight this impostor?" Cormac snarled.

 

"Because I'm going to go and find another chainaxe and get my bolter, and then I'm going back in." Ace cracked his knuckles. "Only this time, I've got a cunning plan."

 

Both Cormacs took a moment to facepalm, and even Madwolf cringed briefly.

 

"Well, this can only end well." Future or Alternate or Whatever-Other-Term-We-Could-Use Cormac rolled his eyes. "Although Ace does bring up a fair point - perhaps we should stall this confrontation until after we've fulfilled our duty." This Cormac lowered his sword, carefully.

 

Cormac conceded the point, albeit grudgingly.

 

"I concede your point, albeit grudgingly," he said, mirroring the action of his other self.

 

"Right then," Ace chuckled. "Madwolf, look after these two for me. I've got a cunning plan to put in motion."

[Olis]

"That makes it five." Olis muttered wearily as familiar figures were seen arguing on a gantry. They had been watching for more than just daemons since they first spotted another them. Each time they'd been seeing others without being seen. Yet. All seem to be slightly different than the last - if ordered correctly it was almost a logical progression from the fresher selves up to and beyond broken and bloodied selves. But they weren't ordered correctly and there had been... discrepancies.

 

One pair, still fresh faced in comparison, had ran by armed with just bolters. A weapon neither of them currently carried. Another pair rattled by, loaded to the brim with grenades and gas canisters. Both, again, relatively fresh faced. 

 

In fact, coming to think of it, none of these pasts and futures had made the noise that was expected of them had they been occupying this time for any longer than a few minutes. An idea blossomed in his over-taxed mind.

 

"I think we should follow them." He stated. Another lingering stare by the Maybe-Aquilanus told him his idea wasn't completely without merit.

[Aqui]

Running towards the relative safety of the Culinarum, Aquilanus was uneasy. There was something...odd about his Brother. Something that he couldn't...

 

"Olis...How did you come to carry a Volkite weapon?" Olisredan was armed with an ancient artefact. It was unheard of for such devices to exist, much less be used by a Moderatii.

 

"Volkite? Aqui, you know I've always carried one!"

 

Aquilanus' own Melta was raised instantly.

 

"Who are you?!" he snarled.

 

"Who am I? Who are you is more like it! Asking a question like that! Referring to yourself in the first person!"

 

"First per...What the Feth are you talking about? Only a complete lunatic refers to themselves in the third person!"

 

The stand off was uneasy. Both Moderatii tried to rein in the instinct to fire upon the other. Both knew that whatever was happening wouldn't be solved by firing either...