Noize

"Gunfire in the street,

Where we used to meet,
Echoes out a beat,

When the bass goes 'BOMB'"

-NIN , 'the good soldier'

Track 01: By the Fire

"So what do we call the band?" Cornet asked, starting off innocently enough. His questions always started out simple, teasing their inquiree to make the next statement to draw his listener in. The Rhino rocked as the servitor guided it through charred alleys in the hive. Cornet reached out to steady himself. His HUD depicted a brief feed of the outside terrain of ruined streets and collapsed buildings.

"Do we need to call the band anything?" Lyre answered, already exhausted with the line of questioning, and his battle brother hadn't even gotten into his full sermon on the topic yet. His tone was devoid of emotion, much like the stoic neutral expression his helm maintained.

"Of course we need to call the band something. Without a name we're just a random useless rabble. Roaming and fighting just anyone. But with a name, with a name we become a collective, a force," Cornet was on a roll now.

From one of the top bunks in the Rhino came a groan, and an exhausted female face peered over the edge. "Would you two Noise Marines give it a rest for one day? Some of us mortals are trying to sleep."

Cornet glanced up at her, the expression on his helm equally as neutral as Lyre's. "Sorry Sonata, we'll keep it down."

Sonata pulled the covers over her head and resumed her slumber. Lyre wished that would be the end of it, but as predicted, Cornet began talking on the vox units in their helms.

"No really Lyre, this is important."

Lyre envied Sonata in that moment. It had been a rough week, and she had earned her rest. The Warsinger had taken a nasty shrapnel wound on her side. Fret, their resident tech adept, had done what he could to patch her up but she needed medical care soon. The band had arrived in this hive a week ago, accompanying a larger Warband of Chaos Marines. They had hoped to catch the Imperials off guard and unaware, and they would have succeeded too if the frakkers hadn't managed to summon the aid of an Imperial Guard fleet that had been traveling in the shadow of a Black Templar Battle Barge. They were now evacuating, heading for the shuttles and transports that would pull them away from this cursed rock and to the safer folds of the warp. All Lyre wanted to do was load up his armor with stims along with a few other drugs of choice, and let his mind check out for the remainder of the journey.

As always, Cornet had not wound down yet, and he wanted to talk. His favorite topic was what to call this little Warband. They didn't have much, and Lyre would never have classified it as a "Warband" to begin with. Four Noise Marines: Lyre, Cornet, Elision, and Crasis. One Warsinger: an ex-Sororitas named Sonata, and Fret along with his three servitors, whom they had affectionately named Low Note, Off Key, and Dead Beat. Together they spent a moment of quiet in the back of the Rhino, either lost in their own thoughts or like Sonata, attempting to sleep off the fatigue of the past week.

"Toserian already took the best name we could have chosen," Lyre snapped, and instantly regretted it. Cornet grew quiet and withdrawn as that name settled between them. Lyre shared in that pain, that sting, the shame that hovered between them like a ghost. Cornet pulled his weapon, Forsworn, a little closer, protectively almost.

"Kakaphony was a good name. But for all the wonders of the Eye you couldn't make me run with that pack of wolves again," instead of returning to his thoughts Cornet spoke. "Which is why we need a good name, something to strike the same kind of fear and recognition in our enemies."

And something to erase our shame, mused Lyre. Both he and Cornet had been members of the Kakaphony, the largest band of Noise Marines lead by none other than Captain Toserian. They had survived many brutal campaigns, fought many worthy foes from all over the galaxy and the Eye. And under Toserian's scrutinizing glare, had made their pacts with the demoness' now at their side. Unconsciously, Lyre's hand ran lovingly over his own weapons strings. Just the presence of Red Widow soothed him, and it was no mystery as to why. Sealed within that shell of adamantium and wraithbone, clutched in the clawed hands of a demoness, was his own soul.

One million souls had been the pact. One million souls in exchange for the power of the Warp and an understanding of how to use it. And until Lyre could pay Red Widow her one million souls, she held his own as collateral. She had pulled his soul from his body, leaving him as an empty shell, hollow and nearly emotionless, a perfect gatherer to feed her appetites.

At first they had been lives, at first they had been faces, at first they had all been worthy foes, with individual names and status, rank and honors. Each soul morsel had been lovingly prepared and offered up on the altar of Red Widows ego, plated with a side of blood and fear then chased down her gullet with a deep draw of madness.

But now,

Now they were only tally marks, another series of notches in an already ruined blade. A literal buffet of Space Marines—Imperial and Chaos alike—Eldar, Orks, Tau Fire Warriors and yes even a few Tyranid Hive Tyrants. All had been spread before the glutton to wallow in. Never satisfied, never grateful for the feast before her, always demanding more to pad out her already ample curves.

Every time Lyre closed his eyes he saw her, she swam through his dreams, teasing him with new powers and pleasures, yet always demanding that price. Drugs numbed her calls and caresses, made him feel that he was his own man again and not some puppet tied to her whims. In battle they were as one, In battle all of her powers became his, and in those moments he could forgive and even love her. Appreciate her magnitude and intelligence, revel in her voice as it ripped up streets and turned their foes to pulp. And then the battle would be over, and there she would sit at the back of his mind, taunting him, degrading him, demanding more, and Lyre would keep chasing the thrill of battle, sometimes to feel bonded with her once more, sometimes to get Red Widow to stop bitching for a few minutes.

If Cornet ever felt the same about Forsworn, he never mentioned it. Cornet always had that idiots grin of a man that had accepted that he was damned and he might as well enjoy his life while it lasted. Lyre knew his brother felt as empty as he did. He could see the hollowness behind Cornets amber colored eyes, knew that the jokes he told were just for show to make it seem that he hadn't lost everything. Together they had run from Toserian, run from the Kakaphony, felt the tears of shame drying on their cheeks as they left the remnants of their once mighty Legion behind.

Even though Lyre sometimes dreamed about marbled halls, lines of Space Marines in their finest, his own body clad in royal purple ceramite trimmed with brilliant gold, he would awaken in a bunk on the Rhino, head swimming with images of times long forgotten and buried, dirty light filtering through cracked vision blocks, and always with the weight and regret of lost brothers and crushed dreams.

"You're sinking again Lyre," Cornet thumped Lyre on his shoulder plate, waking him from his thoughts. "You always become depressed when you're tired. We'll soon be underway, and then I'll share that bottle of amasec with you that I've been saving."

"Should we have run Cornet?" Lyre asked, leaning back and trying to settle in his seat. "Should we have stayed with the Kakaphony?"

"No," Cornet answered firmly. "There was nothing left there for us. Save for the deluded aspirations of a mad man. His way of making war is weak, thinking that brute force and numbers is the way to solve any problem. How many did we lose in the first few engagements?"

"Too many. Yet Astartes don't run. Astartes know no fear."

"Well then its a shred of a good thing we aren't Astartes anymore. We are Noise Marines, and the Kakaphony isn't the only band out there. I have my own ambitions, my own voice. I may not have a soul, but shred I'll make up for it by becoming a warrior the gods will notice."

"There you go again, dreaming."

"Remember when our only wish was to die well? Very strange how it took the sacrifice of my soul to change that to a desire to live well."

Lyre had to agree with Cornets observation. No matter how many were recruited to the Kakaphony, they would lose just as many the following battle. Supplies were always thin, their forces had always been stretched, and Toserian would involve them in another destructive campaign without any consideration to the advice of his lieutenants. For the first time, Lyre and Cornet had known true hunger, had felt their nerves fray, felt their armor grow loose and cold on their bodies. To keep that twisting gnawing in their gut at bay, many had turned to stimulant abuse, or simply violence for the sake of violence. Other still would swear allegiance to new demonic masters. As long as Toserian had bodies to throw at the enemy, he didn't care if they were fit to fight.

"You know who I want my one millionth soul to be?" Cornet settled back in his own seat. "I want to take that bastard Toserian. And if he has no soul left for Forsworn to chew, I will be quite pissed."

Lyres response was stolen by a chirp on the vox from Fret. "Boss, getting a message in from the Blood Lust."

Cornet picked up the receiver in the back of the Rhino. "Cornet, of the No-Name Nobodies."

"I think that names already been taken," Crasis grumbled from the back of the Rhino.

A smile pulled at the corner of Lyre's lip. Seems that he wasn't the only one Cornet had kept up trying to find a band name. Finally having a moment of peace, Lyre allowed himself to slip into half-sleep. Just a brief rest before they reached the shuttle. He snapped fully awake again when he felt the Rhino halt completely. He hadn't noticed Cornet moving through the Rhino, knocking the rest of the band on their shoulder plates, save for Sonata. "We've just been given a mission."

"We just finished a gig. Another one lined up already?" Crasis had taken a few hard knocks and like Lyre, just wanted to stim up and nod out.

"Nope, we stay here for the time. We're one of the last bands to pull out of the hive. Our host needs us to locate and collect a person of interest that has sensitive information regarding Imperial strength and maneuvers in this sector."

"Which means they will be upper hive...and we're currently making way to the outskirts," Crasis countered.

Cornet wasn't shaken by Crasis' complaints. Rank and chain of command had collapsed long ago. Cornet and Lyre had taken a joint leadership role, although they would yield to their band mates respective areas of expertise as situations arose. Cornet rested his chin on his fist in a thinking posture, nodding. "Well then, perhaps I'll vox our host back and tell him we don't want triple our pay after all."

Sonata rolled over in her bunk and stuck her hand out. "I'm in."

Crasis leaned forward. "Triple? You should have said so. In."

Elision and Lyre responded likewise.

Cornet gently took Sonata's hand and folded it back against her chest. "I have no doubts to your abilities Sonata. But we need our Warsinger alive. And Fret will need the support. You will still get your share," he shot a glance around the passenger space daring anyone to disagree. No one did.

The four Noise Marines and Fret leaned together toward the center of the Rhino, all four terrifying helms and mechadendrites hovering over a dataslate displaying maps of the hive levels. Cornet began to relay the information.

"Our target is here, that could of course change," he highlighted a middle class merchant neighborhood at the eastern side of the hive. "We can travel through the underhive until we reach this point," he tapped an area a tier below a central maglev station. "The station itself will most likely be heavily defended, but its also our best bet to move in and out quickly. Elision and Crasis, you two will monitor our escape route, and in the event conditions change, locate another egress point," Elision and Crasis were best suited for the task. Their hearing was even more sensitive than most Noise Marines and they could locate threats with pin point accuracy. Since Elision and Crasis had joined the band, they had never fallen for an ambush or weak support structure.

"It will be done," Crasis took the data slate for a moment to study it more closely. "The maglev system runs fairly close to the sewage systems. With that we can gain entry to the sump and find a more suitable insertion point closer to the target," he lowered the slate. Although they had spent the past week fighting for control of the hive, they had been entrenched in the slums in the northwest. This would be their first venture into the hive proper.

"Lyre and I will locate and secure the target. Key in on the vox as the plan changes," Cornet knew to allow his band to act with autonomy as needed. Their force was too small and the hive too large to draw attention to themselves. Plans changed. But that was part of the fun. If a beat or melody had no variation it became boring and predictable, and Cornet tried to be anything but predictable.

The back hatch of the Rhino lowered, and all four slipped out with weapons ready. Fret had backed the Rhino into a narrow alley to provide cover, then he and his three servitors went to work tossing trash and scrap metal around the Rhino to camouflage it in with the rest of the hives surroundings. This part of the hive had taken a pounding so the task was an easy one.

Crasis and Elision alternated on point as they uncovered various sewer access hatches and stairways leading deeper into the sump. Their purple and black armor blended in well with their surroundings, but Lyre and Cornet stuck out miserably. Their armor was also purple and black, but large yellow mohawk-like crests of feathers, hair, and a few kroot quills graced their helms. Along with their brilliantly colored weapons, they made easy targets. In battle the crests would ripple with energy and power, in ambushes, Lyre or Cornet would serve as bait or a distraction while the others moved in on their prey. For more routine exercises, the crests served to function as a kind of auspex array, feeding atmospherical, wind and even vox chatter to their helms. That function itself was a double-edged sword. Cornet would never forget the time he had been pinged by a Titan and received such a sensory overload that his armor was unusable for weeks.

Elision paused near a drainage hatch and halted the band. He knelt as the others took up defensive positions around him, then lowered his head toward the grating. Elision had once been involved with a Slaaneshi cult that used bodily modifications as a central point of their worship. A grid of bronze strips circled and crossed Elisons skull, each one hardwired into a part of his brain designed to trigger pleasure sensations. His mouth and lower jaw had been replaced by a large grill, giving him a permanent sinister grin. As a result, he didn't speak much, and when he did he could cant binary just like a tech adept. "This one," he said, his voice distorted and blurred by the grill.

Lyre took up Cornets place as they opened the grate and dropped in one by one. The space was small and tight here, and the Noise Marines had to hunch over to move through single file. Foul water splashed over their boots. With Elision sniffing away on point, they moved quickly, scaring up the occasional human who had taken refuge in the drainage system during the fighting. The tunnels gradually became larger and the smell more intense as they entered the sump proper. Here the water didn't flow, instead it settled in large stagnant pools. Cornet and Lyre were now moving through quicksand-like paste made of all the unimaginable debris that could wash down the drains. Human and animal waste was a given, as were human and animal remains. More odd were the larger pieces of furniture, bags of clothing, crates of childrens toys, cutlery, crockery, entire vehicles tucked away in forgotten corners like ships in a bottle. Glowing fungi, and an entire control console from the bridge of some Imperial Navy vessel. For a moment the group paused and pondered the logistics of getting such a find back to Fret and the black market, but eventually determined that it wasn't worth the effort in light of what they would receive from a successful gig.

Crasis took point as Elision dropped to the rear. The tunnels were surprisingly silent, dampened by centuries of dirt and ash. Cornet ran his hand along one wall, the ceramite of his glove scratching up soot. This wasn't the first time this hive had burned. Nor would it be the last. Even now they walked along what must have been an old street with walled up storefronts.

"We're being watched," Crasis announced over the vox, breaking the silence. "Sump dwellers. I haven't seen any territorial markings on the walls or totems. Not sure if we are trespassing on anyone's 'turf'."

"Keep proper and head on," Cornet responded. "We might have allies here, wouldn't do to start shooting up the place and attract attention we don't need."

Lyre tracked a few life signs moving down an intersecting tunnel. The law of the wilds was in full strength down here. "Feels like home."

Crasis led them through a broken wall, and into a tunnel of the mag-lev system. From the litter and worn paths present, this was a highway for sump dwellers. All around them they could hear echos from other parts of the hive where battles were still fought. Numerous mag-lev tracks descended or ascended into darkened tunnels. Crasis led them along a rising tunnel, then halted the group near a rusted hatch. "Here is our best egress point. I hear the engines of heavy armor ahead. Its safe to assume the Imperials have locked down the station."

Cornet spotted the discarded wrapper of a meal bar. "And make regular patrols as well."

Lyre and Elision worked to loosen the hatch. The heavy door opened with a loud scream-like squeak that echoed down the mag-lev tunnels. Cornet stiffened and Crasis dropped to one knee. "Get that hatch open," Cornet whispered. "Someone heard us."

"Its got one good screech left in it," Lyre answered.

"Work fast."

Crasis braced one foot on the wall and pushed, attempting to lift the door slightly off the hinges to reduce the noise. His efforts were rewarded by an even louder groan. In the distance they could see lights bobbing in the darkness.

Elision grabbed one corner of the hatch and held it open while his bandmates slipped inside, then swung around himself, catching the door as it swung closed with another scream. Cornet saw Elisions intent on silently shutting the hatch. "Might as well let it drop, they already know we're here and we can't use this tunnel again anyway."

Elision let go of the door and it slammed shut, the close concussive impact of the iron giving the Noise Marines a little shiver of delight. "They shouldn't be able to open that anyway," Lyre shrugged. "But just in case," he attached a small mine to the hatch. "The Imperials will have a nice surprise waiting for them."

Now secure in a maintenance tunnel, they examined their surroundings. Prayer seals and stale incense hung in the air. Sparse glow globes provided enough light to find a path through the various pipework and machines. After confirming that no Imperials were present, they pressed on, turning corners into more engine bays and the occasional temporary worker hab.

"Looks like we're either in, or close to, the Mechanicum holding near the mag-lev station." Crasis noted.

"Anything useful here?" Lyre asked.

"Probably a better map of the hive. Give me some time and I can really wreck some havoc in the Imperial holdings and vox," Crasis smiled. "Be fun if we could take the hive single-handedly."

"We are here for only one thing," Cornet asserted. "And I have no desire to be left behind when the Imperials begin a cleansing sweep."

Lyre fell silent on that. He and Cornet had survived one cleanse during their centuries campaigning together, and they had been flushed out and run like vermin before hounds. With no re-enforcements, and little ammunition, every shot needed to count. They were in no condition to survive another.

Crasis stopped near a small altar with rotating holo image of the cog symbol of the Mechanicum. "Just what we needed," he extended his arm and a small snake-like dendrite came from his wrist and worked into a port on the altar. Immediately the cog symbol began to struggle and fade away, overcome by the elements of scrapcode Crasis fed into the system. He withdrew his dendrite and arm. "There. In case we come back for another attempt on the hive, its machine spirits will be a little more cooperative."

"Did you get a map?" Lyre asked.

"We keep along this tunnel and it will fork to the left. Should lead us to a maintenance bay for the mag lev cars. From there, its a short run to the next tier and our target," he fell into step behind the rest of the group. In a moment they were in the maintenance bay, using a few benches as cover, although with Lyre and Cornet's tall crests still peeking over the rim of the work benches, the cover was more symbolic than anything. Outside the thin metal doors they could hear what sounded like an all-out riot. People shouting, the crack of lasrifles, and the occasional deep thoom of heavy artillery.

Cornet rose cautiously from his place of cover, then stood near the bay doors, peeking through a crack into the street. Empty, save for the rubble he had come to associate with the aftermath of a large scale assault. Seems there were either a few Chaos warbands left to be flushed out, or opportunistic hive gangs were making an effort to claim undefended ground. Lyre joined him, kicking a can of lubricants across the bay. Cornet shook his head and couldn't help but smile. Noise Marines were not known for their ability to keep quiet. He was impressed they had made it this far without attracting any attention. Not that it would be a concern considering all the racket outside.

"We split up here. Elision, Crasis, find us a better route back to the Rhino. Lyre and I will collect the target," Cornet ordered.

"And leave to go have all the fun," Crasis countered. The sound of combat drawing all four of them closer to the doors. It was like a craving, an itch that needed to be scratched.

Cornet tapped a dispenser at his hip. It once held krak grenades, but had been modified by Fret to carry another item. An armorcrys vial containing some clear blue liquid dropped into his palm. He tossed the vial to Crasis. "There, some Float should keep you happy until we return."

Crasis caught it gratefully, then immediately added it to the collection of stims on his backpack unit. "Break a leg."

Lyre and Cornet opened the door and slipped out onto the street, if it could still be called that. Ruined buildings, toppled skyscrapers, sandbag enclosures, the burned husks of so many vehicles, both civilian and military make, and bodies. Bodies in various states of decomposition. In the midst of all the green and gray, the pair of purple and yellow Noise Marines stood out horribly. The sound of combat came from further up the street, where thick blue-gray smoke hung in the air, underlit at times by sporadic lasfire.

"That would be the direction we're heading," Cornet said with a shrug. He began moving a brisk pace, Lyre falling into lockstep with him, each a perfect mirror of the other, staying close to cover in case anything challenged them. The smoke parted as they emerged onto a large plaza lined with destroyed shops and overturned vehicles. Here the Imperial Guard and Planetary Defense Forces were making a stand against a dirty rabble of hive gangers, lead by a Chaos Marine. By the look of him he wasn't terribly high in the pecking order, probably left behind to cover his Warbands escape. Not that it mattered to the wretches at his side. "No one I know."

"Me either," Lyre seconded, moving into the cover of a burning chimera. "But he is providing a good distraction."

Cornet peered around the side of the chimera. "The Imperials are guarding that staircase to the next tier. We will need to get past them."

"We could give our companion and his rabble the push they need," Lyre suggested, holding Red Widow in his left hand before him.

Cornet nodded, and Lyre could read the smile in his voice. "It would be impolite to take the ladies out and not provide them with some refreshment," he held Forsworn in his right. "Showtime."

Cornet and Lyre emerged from either side of the chimera, each one mirroring the others movements and action. They were a pair, completing and complementing the other. Among the terrifying warriors of the many Chaos Warbands, never had there been a more effective and horrifying duo. Red Widow and Forsworn sang out as their soul slaves caressed their strings. Notes and melodies like the cries of the damned ripped through the plaza. The Imperials hesitated for a moment, unsure of this new frightening development.

The Chaos Marine turned at the roar of the weaponry behind him, then raised his chainsword in greeting. "Noise Marines! Slaanesh be praised!"

Emboldened by the presence of two other enemies of the Imperium, the gangers rushed the Imperial holdings, oblivious to the lasfire and mortar rounds raining down on them. Lyre and Cornet fell in behind them. Lyre ran his fingers along the length of Red Widow's neck, the rough edges on the bottom of his gauntlet drawing a scream from his weapon that caused a few heads to explode. Cornet then echoed the scream in reverse, causing the converse amount of heads on the opposite side to implode. Between them the other Chaos Marine cracked bolter rounds after the horde of gangers. Lyre and Cornet advanced, collecting the souls from the still warm bodies of their kills. The Imperials line had been broken, the gangers destroyed storefronts and began looting, others rushed the stairs, determined to see the upper levels of the hive before they were cut down. Like deep ocean predators, blood was in the water and now an army of undesirables began to erupt from the forgotten places.

From every alley and manhole cover, dregs of the hive society spilled over, advancing with the aid of weapons taken from the dead or the sheer weight of numbers. Lyre and Cornet maintained a slow and steady pace, allowing the crowd to do most of the work for them, only letting out another series of destructive screams when the gangers lacked momentum.

"Like driving grox," Cornet observed.

"Grox smell better than this rabble," Lyre was about to begin mounting the stairs, when his superior hearing caught an unwelcome sound. "Cover!" he shouted, diving aside behind a nest of sandbags.

Cornet mirrored his action, taking cover behind a small barricade made of various odds and ends. Not a moment later the air above them was filled with numerous projectiles. Cornet risked a glance toward the top of the stairs to find a couple platoons of Guardsmen firing down at the advancing horde, and no less than five Adeptus Astartes of the Black Templars Chapter aiding them.

"Shred," Lyre snorted. If he and Cornet didn't move, they would be found and slaughtered.

Cornet sensed his brothers shift in mood and keyed his vox. "You know what I hate most about Imperials?"

"Thats a long list, but go on."

Cornet held Forsworn ready. "I hate that they are so damn healthy. Look at them. Clean faces, full bellies. Clean uniforms. Even those fattened bastard Templars."

Lyre peeked around the edge of the sandbags. He could agree with that sentiment. The Black Templars stood defiant behind the Guardsmen, the peeked cap of a Commissar barely seen above the height of their elbows. Their armor was clean, bright even. Every surface smooth with no trace of seams or cracks. Their weapons were well maintained, and with none of the wear that came with frequent combat. In contrast, the Noise Marines were dirty smelly heathens with armor cobbled together from many different makes. Not to mention no one in their band had a decent meal in months.

Just on general principal, Lyre wanted to rip their throats out.

"The Guardsmen don't concern me. Those frak-wits behind them are another matter," Cornet murmured.

"Shall we round?" Lyre asked.

"Seems to be our only option," Cornet gained his feet. "I'll go first," he darted out toward the

outside edge of the stairs, firing Forsworn off at the hip, sending pulses of concentrated sound into the the Guardsmen at the top of the stairs. Their armor had been constructed to withstand the impact of lasrounds and the odd piece of shrapnel. Every bright orb of light that left Forsworns concealed barrels passed through the wall of meat the Astartes had surrounded themselves in and kept going, taking out the Guardsman in the front, and any number of his fellows behind before losing momentum against a stone wall or vehicle. The unit turned as one and began to fire upon this new threat. Cornet angled the head of Forsworn to the ground and ripped another series of notes from her twisted strings. He jumped, using acoustic levitation to propel himself upward and forward much like he would with a jump pack. But performing this maneuver left him vulnerable.

Lyre waited for the moment to come out from behind cover, advanced and let lose with his own rapid fire series of sound pulses. The Imperials were still focused on the threat that Cornet posed, and didn't notice Lyre until it was too late. Red Widow claimed a score of souls, including one of the Black Templars. Attention now turned to Lyre, who jumped as Cornet had done, dodging a few lasblasts and bolts. Meanwhile Cornet was already among them. The Black Templars excelled at close combat, preferring the intimate crush of steel and bone to distant explosions. For once, the Imperials and Chaos Marines were of one mind.

In the hallowed ranks of the Holy Ordos of the Inquisition, it was said that if one caught visual confirmation of a Noise Marine, then the life expectancy of the viewer could be measured in the space of time it took sound to travel the distance between the Noise Marine and their victims. If sound or odd rumblings in the ground could be determined, then that time was halved. If a Noise Marine was close enough that the observer could make out the symbols on their armor or identify the type of weapon they carried, then the viewer was more than likely already dead. While a Noise Marine could focus sound with the aid of their weapon, there was still an ambient area of effect in place that created a kind of buffer between the Noise Marine and any possible attackers. The side effects of this zone ranged anywhere from nausea to complete surrender of the nervous system.

By the time Cornets chipped ceramite boots touched the stones of the upper landing on the stair case, five of the Imperial Guardsmen closest to him dropped dead where they stood, and Forsworn drank in their souls greedily. Before weapons were brought around and the alarm raised, Cornet had ran his fingers down Forsworns strings and felled ten more, their minds collapsing in on themselves in suppressing waves of despair. Then Lyre was among them, adding tones of hate and vengeance to Cornets layers of doubt and remorse. No mortal could withstand such an assault, and the line broke. Even the Commissar dropped to his knees in fear. That left only one threat that caused the Noise Marines pause.

The Black Templars.

Lyre and Cornet jumped away from each other, and toward the staircases rising on either side of the landing, forcing the remaining four Astartes to split their number to pursue the Noise Marines. Cornet picked a teasing ditty on Forsworn as he bounded up the stairs, keeping his steps erratic to trip up the Templars. Lyre mimicked his brothers movements on the opposite side, breaking stride only once to fire a few more sound pulses toward the Imperial Space Marines. Before the pulses could land however, one of the Black Templars head exploded in a red mist.

"Much obliged Noise Marines!" came a gruff voice. Lyre had forgotten that other Chaos Marine had been there. No wonder his Warband had left him behind. The hives fallen rushed the stairs again, and this time found little resistance. The Chaos Marine picked off another Black Templar and scaled the steps. By the time he had reached the upper landing, Lyre and Cornet had vanished into the hive.

Cornet and Lyre clung to the shadows as they ran. "Where to?" Lyre asked.

"The merchants quarter up ahead. Auspex is reading-"

A red flare from a lascannon suddenly ripped from a side street, slamming Cornet full on and sending him tumbling into what looked like a large drainage canal. Lyre dove for cover, then keyed his vox. "Cornet?"

Cornet groaned, then answered. "Ah shred...I'm fine, get that frakwit behind the lascannon will you? I'll meet you at the target."

Lyre didn't need to be asked twice. Red Widow had already tasted blood, and he was happy to oblige her. He knew Cornet would be fine. He always was.

Lyre peered out from his cover then quickly jumped away with a curse as the cannon fired again. No, not the same cannon. Two of them. One mounted on a Salamander, and the other on a Rhino bearing the markings of the local PDF. Before Lyre could formulate a plan, he saw the remnants of the rabble come boiling over the stairs. Both of the vehicles maneuvered to meet this new threat. The Rhino opening fire with its forward mounted heavy bolters. The crowd collapsed and fell as puffs of red mist erupted among them.

Knowing a ground battle could not be won with just himself and an angry mob, Lyre ran for the nearest building and began scaling a fire escape. He pulled himself over the top, and as expected, discovered a whole network of catwalks and scaffold that would take him untouched over the combat below. Well, relatively untouched. Almost as soon as Lyre set foot on a catwalk bolts chewed up the grating at his feet. Seemed the Templars had beat him up here. Three of them advanced on his position.

"Ready Red?" Lyre whispered. Red Widow purred in his grip, for once not fighting him, welcoming this opportunity to feast upon so many Space Marines. Lyre jumped again, angling Red Widow downward to give himself lift. As he descended, bolts rang off the his pauldrons and grieves, scorching the paint and sending more chips flying. He ripped a broader pulse from Red Widow's strings, enhancing the sound with his own voice. It was a seldom documented ability found only in few Noise Marines, the result of Fabius Bile's research and work in improving upon the geneseed of the Emperors Children.

The Black Templar didn't stand a chance against a point blank Warp Scream. Inside his helmet, the Space Marines ears burst before the concussive blast of Red Widows own voice cracked his ribs and caused his twin hearts to rupture. Lyre landed, one foot planted on the Astartes chest, pinning his foe to the ground. He reached out, placing one hand on the Space Marines head. "Come to me," Lyre whispered. The power cables on the back of his gauntlet began to glow with Red Widows touch as she fed her power and influence into her soul slave.

Lyre could feel the Black Templars soul struggle, his young, oh so young mind reel at the injustice being done. But the flesh was dieing or already dead, and he could no longer feign ignorance of the power that lurked in the darker corners of the galaxy. Lyre felt warmth spread through his palm as Red Widow licked her hungry crimson lips. He pulled his hand away, drawing the soul from the body, through the ceramite, and finally to open air. For a brief moment Lyre could make out the features of the youth. Black hair and blue eyes clenched tightly against his fate, calling to a corpse god that would never answer, indeed, couldn't even hear his pleas in this forsaken place. Red Widow opened her maw, row upon row of serrated sharp teeth snapped down on the incorporeal form in Lyre's grasp.

Another soul consumed, and Lyre another step closer to his freedom.

"Seven hundred ninety four thousand, three hundred twenty four," Lyre noted. He stood up fully, defiantly, and glared at the remaining two Black Templars. They had paused, too enraged to act by the horror of the loss of their battle brother. "And you two, number three twenty five and three twenty six," he could hear one of them subvocalising into their vox. "Oh please," Lyre chuckled, Red Widow had her claws fully in him now. "Please send more. I'm so very, very hungry."

Cornet cursed under his breath as he slogged through the dirty water in the drainage canal. He had a large wound at his side and he couldn't seem to stem the flow of blood. He hadn't even heard that lascannon charge up, nor the rumble of the Salamander it had been mounted on. His entire left side burned, the armor crisped and cracking in lines that resembled dry rot. If Forsworn hadn't defended him, that beam would have passed right through. He had sensed her condense her essence, severely draining her energy as well as his, creating just enough of a buffer between them and the incoming beam of light. Every time he thought that he had Forsworn figured out, she would surprise him with another strange ability.

The blast had also knocked out his vox. He had been able to give Lyre that last message before it shorted completely. He chuckled to himself, remembering a time when he believed that every piece of technical hardware that came across his path possessed a mercurial spirit of some kind. Fret had set him right on that. Fret had set the band right about a lot of things, the most liberating being that most machines couldn't feel or even claim any flavor of sentience. Most machines. Titans, like the one that had pinged him out of pure spite, were another story entirely.

Cornet referenced his HUD again. He couldn't stay here. They would come looking for him, and in his weakened state they would find and slay him. His backpack had been nearly drained from Forsworns quick thinking, and already the servos in his armor were beginning to lag. But if he could find a place to rest for a few moments, the pack would charge on its own, and he would be able to focus on healing the wounds the lascannon had left him with.

He passed a large grill set into the wall at shoulder height, and peered inside. It was a long drainage tunnel, probably running the length of the street, broken only by the odd patch of sunlight that indicated an overhead drain or crawlspace. This seemed like as good of a place as any. The grate swung open on its hinges and Cornet climbed inside. Over the tops of the buildings he heard Lyre's Warp Scream echo, shattering windows and toppling a few loose chimney stacks. "Don't have too much fun," he mumbled, closing the grate behind him and moving cautiously through the tunnels.

Cornet found a relatively dry place, and sat down leaning against the brick wall. Shred. The Imperials even had clean sewers. Then again, it was obvious these had been made to control a large amount of water, maybe it rained often enough to keep the systems flushed. His hand rested protectively across Forsworns strings. She still thrummed with energy and a bit of that playful edge he had come to know as one of her quirks. Forsworn could be a harsh mistress, but she was as fair as a demoness could manage to be. Cornets soul tally sat a comfortable distance behind Lyres, but was still considerable. Lyre was impulsive, quick to anger and even quicker if a gory kill was involved. How much of that was his brothers doing, and how much was Red Widow was hard to determine.

He knew that Red Widow rode roughshod all over Lyre. Her appetites burned in his eyes, and at times he had slight feminine gait to his walk that indicated she had possessed his body in the heat of the moment. Cornet could see Lyre's nerves fray with every battle, and every moment that Red Widow remained in his grasp. Gone was the calm cool manor Lyre had maintained as a member of the Phoenix Guard. Gone was the flourish and efficiency he had possessed in his actions and decisions. Red Widow had reduced him to a frantic chained beast. Cornet knew the only way he could help his brother and ease his suffering was to simply be there for him, and support each other until they had claimed their one million souls and were released from their contracts. That in itself was no easy feat, and many had failed.

Cornet heard a sudden splash from somewhere along the tunnel. Even though the acoustics down here were terrible, his enhanced Noise Marine senses were able to locate and identify the source. It was someone walking slowly through ankle deep water. The steps were small yet confident, as if they already knew the terrain. Probably not a Guardsman then, and certainly not an Astartes. He hadn't run into an Imperial yet that ventured into the unknown without a support group containing scribes, Munitorium officials, and Ecclesiarchs leading the way proclaiming heroic deeds and untruths.

One of the distant shafts of sunlight wavered and Cornet could make out the muddy appearance of a boy, no older than twelve, maybe thirteen standard years, walking slowly through the water, his attention completely absorbed by a glittering trinket in his hand. His hair was blond and poorly kept, clothes dirty and torn, and a smear of blood along his left side told of his hard-won prize. The boy kept walking, then stopped five meters away from Cornet, only now looking up to see that he was not alone in the tunnel. He gasped, and hid the trinket behind his back.

Cornet knew he must have been a sight. What wasn't brilliant purple or yellow had been scorched black, and the red lenses in his helm were like burning coals in the dark. Yet to his credit the boy didn't run, only stared at Cornet in guarded fascination. The boy then turned on his heel and headed for another side tunnel. "I saw nothing," he said over his shoulder.

"Boy," Cornet called.

The boy froze where he stood, unsure of how to react.

"You don't fear me?"

"If you had wanted me dead, you would have killed me by now. I saw nothing. There is nothing here," he glanced back toward the path he had been about to take, then hesitated and looked back toward Cornet. "Is...is it true?"

"Is what true boy?"

"That all servants of Chaos are hideous mutants?"

The audacity and innocence of the boys question brought a low chuckle from Cornet. "Come closer."

The boy took a two steps, no more.

Cornet reached up and removed his helm, relishing the sensation of the cool air on his skin. His short black hair fell free from the padded interior of his helmet. His features were gaunt, like a man that had known hunger and suffering yet his deep set amber eyes held a playfulness and knowledge that few could ever match. His thin lips twisted into a smirk. "Do I look like a mutant?"

The boy came a little closer, his curiosity getting the better of him. "No tentacles?"

"None."

"No eyes in places there should not be eyes."

"No."

"No cloven hooves or bat wings?"

Cornet chuckled again. "No boy. But that isn't to say those things do not exist. I do have one flaw however."

"Can I see it?"

Cornet reached into a bag at his hip and pulled out a ration bar. "I'm afraid its not something that can be seen. I had sold my soul for ultimate power, and now I seek to get it back," the boys eyes lit upon the ration bar, and Cornet knew he had him. He wagered this child hadn't had a bite to eat in some time. He pulled the wrapper apart and broke the bar in half, then held out one half to the boy. "Would you like some?"

The boy closed the final distance between them, accepting the ration bar and sitting down opposite Cornet in the tunnel. "Good luck in getting it back. The Ecclesiarchs all say that a deal with Horus is one-sided."

Cornet shrugged. "I can vouch for that. What do you think landed me in this mess?" to his surprise the boy chuckled between mouthfuls. Cornet wasn't sure what millennium that ration bar was from, but the boy seemed to be enjoying it. "That trinket you have collected, a gift? For your mother?"

"Hmm? This?" the boy held up a glittering jewel on a chain studded with gemstones of many colors. "No, I don't have a mother. But if I wait until things settle, I can sell it to some gangers down hive and pay a bribe to the manufactoriums."

"Why would you need to bribe them?"

"To get a place to work. Workers live in habs supplied by the manufactoriums, and have set food allowances. It would be hard labor, but at least it would be stable and I could count on a meal," he finished up the last few crumbs of his ration bar.

"How far the Imperium has drifted from the dreams of the fallen," Cornet mused, taking a bite of his half of the ration bar. He heard a loud thump on the street above, and the sound of motors cycling down. "Seems they have the street secured," it was going to be impossible to surface now, and the clock on their mission timetable was still ticking.

"They'll be down here any moment. The Arbites know this system of tunnels are like a highway for the hives forgotten," the boy stood up and dusted a few crumbs off his shirt before licking them off his hand. "I can show you a better place to hide."

"You would do that, knowing what I am boy?"

The boy looked over his shoulder, unafraid. "You gave me your ration bar, freely. No one, not the Arbites, not even the Ecclesiarchs have done that."

Cornet rose to his full height, and snapped his helm back in place. "Then lead on," already a plan was beginning to form in his mind for the little castoff of Imperial society. The boy so far had been fearless, was obviously toughened by his life, yet displayed a mental capacity that put most Guard Officers to shame.

The boy led him down a series of steadily decaying tunnels, and it was no sense of irony that Cornet realized they were heading upward. Perhaps if he and Lyre had kept to the storm drains, their path would have been easier. They crawled through vent shafts and a few elevator tubes using paths Cornet would have never even considered. When they finally emerged, Cornet was surprised to find the boy had taken him to a construction site for a new star scraper. The wind here was strong, and he could look down over the hive and the gradually setting sun in the distance. The entire structure was in disrepair, the remains of an abandoned project. The boy rattled open a large door to reveal a small dwelling that had once been a workshop, but now held a dirty pile of blankets and a few other odds and ends. From far below he could hear heavy artillery still pounding areas of the hive, punctuated by Lyres Warp Scream echoing over rooftops and up the deep channels between buildings. Cornet stood and examined the hive layout. The Imperials were steadily getting their hive back. Already he could hear the screams and smells of a cleansing sweep. So much for going unnoticed. With Lyre stirring up the Imperial forces, they would be on the look out for anything resembling a Noise Marine. An idea suddenly clicked home.

"Boy," Cornet asked.. "Would you like to play 'Space Marine?'"

"Depends," the boy answered, his tone taking on a skeptical aspect. "Is it anything like 'find the bishop' the priests like to play?"

It took a moment for Cornet to chew on that thought. "No...no-shred no, nothing like that. Your first mission, is to help locate a lost person of interest. He is supposed to be held in detention at a business in the merchant district, but he may have been moved since the fighting started. I need you to find his whereabouts and report back to me." Cornet pulled out three large ration bars, Space Marine sized. "And these will be your reward."

The boys eyes bulged, then looked down at the hive as a building began to topple.

"Don't worry about him. He is an ally. Just avoid the screams. Now go. We have until dawn to finish this."

Fret sat at his voxcaster listening in on the many frequencies the hive had to offer. He had located Crasis and Elision easily enough, and Lyre was currently making a mess of the business district, but the distinct lack of Cornet was worrying. He turned the dial again, going slowly over the spectrum of unique signals, searching for a hum that he knew would belong to Cornet. He stopped the dial at a strong encrypted channel, then began running the signal through various encryption cracking devices he had on hand. On the second attempt he could make out words.

"Oh shred," Fret groaned.

Sonata moaned and rolled out of her bunk, her feet hitting the floor heavily. "What are you shredding about?"

Fret glanced back at the Warsinger. She wore a black body glove that made the most of her curves along with a large make-shift bandage around her midsection. "Sonata, Cornet will rip out my spine if he knew I let you climb out of bed."

"I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself," she sat down next to Fret in the small driving compartment of the Rhino. She ran her hand through her purple and magenta colored hair, and leaned back in the padded chair. "Now what are you shredding about?"

"I just broke an Imperial vox encryption. Seems that Lyre is causing enough damage in the business district that they think we're making another push to take over the hive. The Black Templars have called on re-enforcements from orbit."

Sonata tilted her head to the side. "This was supposed to be a clandestine mission. Why is Lyre even on the offensive?"

Fret sighed heavily again, then shoved his hands in the pockets of his robe. "I think it might have something to do with losing vox contact with Cornet."

Sonata's tired expression was replaced with one of worry and concern. "Get the servitors in here. We're going to meet them."

"Sonata, you're in no condition to even think about combat. I've already recommended that Crasis and Elision go to assist Lyre," Fret leaned around the corner in time to see Sonata toss open a foot locker and remove her armor from it.

"Thats just adding more promethium to the flames Fret! Elision is a pleasure junkie, Crasis doesn't care as long as it bleeds, and Lyre is at the mercy of Red Widow. Get this rust tub mobile or are you going to make me fly the whole way?" she snapped.

Fret knew better than to challenge her. He sighed and rubbed his one organic eye. "I can get you a little closer, but not much. Crasis gave me an updated map of the area, and I've been keeping track of enemy movement through vox chatter," he started up the Rhino. "Just curious, how are you planning on remedying the situation?"

"Since Lyre has done a stellar job of letting the Imperials know we are here, I can use that as a distraction to get Elision and Crasis to accompany me to the target. Let me know the moment you hear anything on Cornet," Sonata snapped her last piece of armor in place and checked her bolt pistols. "I'll be frakked if I'm going to let them blow this kind of payoff."

Lyre hadn't expected to acquire an army. He hadn't expected to scare up so many followers of the ruinous powers that had gone to ground after the final assault. Infantry that had no transport off planet, zealots who had taken the sound of continued fighting as a sign from their chaos deity of choice that now was the time to act. He hadn't expected to run into that other Chaos Marine again, whose name turned out to be Monody of the little-known Blood Quest Warband.

As he was sure Cornet would have noted if he were present, even a small Warband like Blood Quest had agreed on a name.

Monody was shaping up to be a fairly competent leader. He knew how to work with very little resources and wasted no time in drawing in more of the zealots to his cause. If Lyre didn't know better he would swear there was some Word Bearer in his mutated geneseed somewhere. But he kept the Imperials on the run. He routed them, then drew them into ambushes, dedicated his followers to defending what seemed to be useless ground while giving the tactical advantage to the Imperials only to wrest it from them once more. A competent leader, but he seemed to fight war only for the sake of war. And Monody was delighted by it.

Lyre had witnessed Khornites in their full fury, showering in blood and harvesting skulls for their god, and Monody was no different in that respect. With skill that took hindsight to truly admire, he was able to orchestrate unending combat with little pause, and maximum bloodshed. The more bleak and desperate a battle, the more Monody yearned for it.

Lyre had hoped to break away and return to his mission, or at the very least find Cornet. His brother had probably already beat him to the target now anyway. Even Red Widow seemed to be seeking a brief recess to digest her newest harvest of souls. The only thing that continued to cast doubt in Lyre's heart was the increasing accumulation of Black Templars in the merchant district. Any moment now they would push out and burn everything in their path.

The sun was beginning to set now and Lyre hoped to use this chance to slip away. Monody was still shouting at the top of his enhanced Space Marine lungs, commanding his newest bunch of zealots, and there would be more coming as the night wore on. Lyre's head turned skyward at the familiar sound of a jump pack, and he allowed himself a moment of pause to admire the form of their Warsinger as she descended.

Sonata's armor was the cleaner of the bands. Painted up in purple and black like her bandmates. Her formerly feathered seraphic wings had been replaced by serrated metal spires that flexed and unfolded as she maneuvered the air currents. In one hand she carried a bolt pistol, in the other a chainsword, and in her throat she carried her own demon that granted her its voice. Cornet had given her an Iron Halo they had scavenged off a cadaver on some battlefield that allowed her voice to be used at full capacity, and for the enemy to pause in fear as they looked upon the horror of her beauty. Where once the fleur-de-lis of her Order had graced her cheek, the burned skin now bore a red brand of Chaos Undivided. Her overly long loincloth, once a sign of chastity and dedication had been ripped and torn , fluttering around her legs and behind her like mist. She was a fallen angel, here to take more souls to hell along with her.

"Lyre!" she called out, her voice easily carrying over the sound of combat two streets over. She landed against the side of a building and jumped down, grabbing various ledges and gargoyles to arrest her fall.

Lyre rushed up to meet her. "Sonata, you shouldn't be-"

Sonata drew back her arm and cold cocked Lyre in his jaw. Lyre stumbled, forgetting how much of a wallop she packed. "Shut-up," she hissed. "I can handle this with Elision and Crasis. Find Cornet. This mission is bust."

For a moment Lyre pondered the possibility that he was in over his head. He wouldn't give up on the mission. Their element of surprise had been blown, but all was not lost yet. Shred, with the whole band now here they stood a chance. Recovering some of his dignity, he pointed to the steadily growling line of Black Templars forming at the top of the stairs in the merchant district. "Keep them off my arse."

Sonata glared back at him. "They will be the last of your worries if you don't return with Cornet."

Lyre ignored her barb and quickly found a side alley to slip away in. Despite her foul mood, he was happy Sonata had come. He paused in the ruins of a bombed building. There was only one way he knew to locate Cornet, and unless he moved fast, it would have every witch hunter on the planet after him.

He looped Red Widow off his shoulder, and held her out before him by the neck. He pulled off his helm and bit the inside of his lip hard enough to draw blood, then spit it onto the guitar-like body of his weapon. "By this offer of blood I summon you, hear me Red Widow."

She rose up through his subconscious in a rolling wave, no doubt wondering what could be distracting her slave from his task of gathering more souls. For the barest of moments Lyre could see her reflected in the surface of his weapon. The air around him filled with the sick scent of Chaos, like fruit that had decayed, or the sweat of a drunk. When he was sure he had her attention, he spoke again.

"I seek your sister Forsworn, I seek Cornet."

He could sense her disdain, the volumes of words unspoken and emotions condensed and wasted. Then it felt as if someone had grabbed the back of his head and turned it. Lyre traced the skyline and felt his focus settle on an unfinished star scraper. There.

Red Widow retreated back once more, and Lyre already knew she was going to demand a more hefty price next time than just an offering of blood. He snapped his helm back on and began running like Horus himself was on his heels.

The target was being moved. The merchant district was no longer suitable to contain him. Or at least that is what the boy overheard from an Imperial Guardsman's vox unit. Orders were to collect the prisoner and begin withdraw immediately. The Black Templars had called for re-enforcements from orbit, and by dawn the hive would be in flames. The boy remained in hiding as the vox man wrote something down on a pad of paper, then stood to deliver it to his superior.

Using stealth skills that had been honed on the streets and tunnels of the underhive, the boy slipped from his hiding place behind a stack of supply crates, crossed the small workspace, and collected the pad of paper and a pencil from the desk and retreated back to his refuge. Very lightly he ran the pencil over the paper in long broad strokes. The voxman had a heavy hand, and the indents he made in the paper as he had written the message stood out and became darker as the boy uncovered the message.

Satisfied that he had enough to earn those three ration bars, the boy ripped the top page off and replaced the pad of paper and pencil not a moment before the voxman returned. By the time the vox man had sat down, the boy was already out the door and running along the darkened corners of the Imperial camp.

However another set of glowing red eyes tracked the boys retreat, and a short time later a small squad of Black Templars picked up his trail.

Cornet watched the red sky long after the sunset. The hive was burning, this time the fires were not set by Chaos Marines and infantry to flush out Imperials. No, this time the flames were fed and fanned by the arrival of several drop pods of Black Templars that came slamming down into various areas of the hive. Heretic and Imperial alike would die this night. The wind ran through the towers skeleton once more, carrying a wave of heat along with it. Cyclones of fire twisted and danced through areas of the hive before vanishing in a swirl of flame. For a moment his thoughts drifted to Sonata, and how she loved to see such destruction, always seeking the beauty in the moment. He contented himself to know that Sonata was safe and more than likely soundly sleeping in the Rhino. Perhaps he could convince the boy to part with his trinket so he could present it to her when she awakened.

He heard the rattle and tap of feet making their way upward. He wasn't expecting to see the boy back so soon. Cornet peeked over the edge and saw the dark shape of the urchin climbing the scaffold below him, with no less than seven pairs of coal-like red eyes moving up quickly behind him.

"Boy!" Cornet called, then raised Forsworn and shot a few pulses down past the youth. One connected solidly with a Black Templar neophyte and the Space Marine in training lost his grip, falling to his death.

The boy turned, just as shocked as Cornet to see that he had been followed. With a primal scream ripping from his small lungs, he pulled on a loose piece of piping, sending a rain of debris down on his pursuers. For the moment the Templars kept their heads down, and Cornet took this opportunity to fire down at them again. "I didn't know they were there!" the boy called desperately.

"I believe you," Cornet grabbed an iron bar and began to climb down the far side of the tower. The boy climbed up on a connecting beam and sprinted toward Cornet.

"Head down, there's a larger floor there," the boy grabbed another pipe and slid down it like a firemans pole. Cornet wondered if he was accustomed to having his little high-hide raided. The boy never asked for Cornets help, and didn't seem to expect any either. Cornet didn't like taking his hand off Forsworn, but he was going to need both arms if he expected to make the decent.

Grabbing various beams and pipes, Cornet jumped and slid his way down. He was thankful the wound from the lascannon had already healed, albeit slowly, but his armor would need another overhaul. Below him he saw the boy land on a large sheet of rockcrete that had been poured as a floor, and seemingly from every corner spilled Black Templars like ink. Most of them Neophytes seeking to impress their Initiates.

"Kill the little heretic, then slaughter the big one," said a Templar with the marking of a Castillian on his shoulder.

The boy had no where to run. He had been ambushed just as Cornet was pinned in place on the scaffold. Cornet saw bolters and chainswords raised, pointing toward the child. Something inside him rebelled. More from instinct than from rational thought, Cornet dropped down behind the boy, grabbed him, turned, and jumped off the edge of the star scraper. He grunted as bolt rounds tore through his back and legs, one taking a chunk of the feathered mohawk with it.

As the towers below rushed up to greet them, only one thought went through Cornets mind.

Why?

Why rescue this brat?

What had he done other than nearly get him killed?

As he fell he could make out a spot of brilliant purple and yellow. A moment later Lyre let loose with a broad spectrum assault, the force of the blast corrected Cornets fall, allowing him to reach out to one of the neighboring towers. The boys arms wrapped tightly around Cornets neck as the Noise Marine desperately clawed at the stone surfaces around him with hands and feet to slow his decent and make use of handholds. He crashed through the fragile glass of a rooftop greenhouse, and rolled out the other side. The boys grip broke and he went tumbling over the curved edge of the roof while Cornet continued to roll, his body coming to rest a meter away from the edge.

"The Emperor has heard our pleas. He has delivered us this evil."

Cornets senses were still reeling from the numerous bolt rounds that had penetrated his armor, and then the sudden arrest of his fall. Blood filled his mouth as he tried to move. A ceramite boot dropped on his hand, kicking Forsworn away and over the sloped edge of the roof.

"Go on, you have earned this kill. Send this traitor back to Horus' heel."

Cornet turned to see a Neophyte wielding a flamer, flanked by a Black Templar Initiate. The Neophyte was young, so horribly painfully young, but there was a zealous gleam in his eyes that only spoke of years of brainwashing and hatred.

So this is what it has come to, the beautiful utopian dream of unified humanity?

Cornet heard the trigger depress, louder than even an Earthshaker cannon, the sudden hiss of compressed promethium, and white heat.

They kept coming. Wave after wave of Black Templars spilled through the city. Nothing was safe, everything burned. That made it easier for Fret to guide the Rhino through the congested streets, the servitors were on the various guns to cover both the Rhino's advance and retreat. Sonata had finally sent her signal for collection. Crasis and Elision were with her, along with someone she called a new ally.

Fret was equally worried about Cornet and Lyre. Still no word from Cornet, and Lyre had last been pinged heading for one of the larger concentrations of Black Templars near some new construction deep in the hive. He pulled over when he saw Sonata's trail marker, a pair of dumpsters knocked over on their sides and set end to end. After a sweep with the auspex, Fret tapped the all clear on the vox.

From a burnt-out storefront, Elision emerged, followed by Sonata, then Crasis, then some other frakker Fret had never seen before. A Chaos Marine in the red armor of a Khornite, and the grin of a Slaaneshi cultist riding a pleasure high. Fret opened the rear hatch, grabbed the nearest servitor, and went to load his band mates up.

Elision and Crasis helped Sonata aboard. Her wound was bleeding freely again, then climbed up after her. Fret leveled a laspistol at the other Chaos Marine. "Name, Warband, rank."

The Chaos Marine bowed slightly, holding his hands open to show he was unarmed. "Monody, Blood Quest, praise to Chaos Undivided."

Fret lowered the pistol. "Get on."

Monody climbed aboard, then sat in one of the rear seats of the Rhino.

"Any word from Cornet and Lyre?" Crasis asked, reliving one of the servitors and taking its place at the stubber.

"Not yet," Fret took up driving again

"The Cornet and Lyre?" Monody asked. "Those two Noise Marines?"

"The very same," Crasis chuckled.

Monody nodded, his grin growing wider revealing all three of the teeth left in his head. "To think I had the honor to fight alongside two such celebrated sons of Slaanesh," he then lifted his hands and began chanting under his breath with eyes closed.

"What is he doing?" Crasis asked, turning from his weapon for a moment.

Sonata shook her head then sighed. "Praying. He's praying to Chaos Undivided in thanks."

"I didn't think we were that kind of band."

As if in response, Fret's vox beeped. "Thats Lyre calling for a pick-up. Hang on."

His mind was blank.

There were no words, no feeling, no emotion, no sound, no sensation, no other distraction. The world had condensed down to this one small section of rooftop. A small piece, set aside from the rest of the burning hive, which was in turn just one small patch of land on this planet, the planet just one spec in the endlessly burning galaxy. To Lyre, this piece of bloody and scorched section of rooftop, exquisite in its simplicity, the remains of lho-sticks clinging to seams, was the entire universe. It was the end-all be-all of his existence.

Lyre knelt, the entrails of the Black Templars he had slain catching on the heel of his ceramite boot, as if to pull him back from the edge of his own sanity. He removed his helm and reached out with ceramite sheathed fingers to the ashes before him. They had a greasy texture, softly crumbling under his questing touch. A word, the only sound, the only emotion in this void dropped from his lips, its meaning lost like a teardrop in a great ocean.

"Cornet?"

No, any moment now his brother would return, jumping from around the side of a vent shaft or rooftop generator, and they would share in this great joke. The joke of their mortality. Of superhuman warriors and the fear of death. There just simply weren't enough ashes here to make a Space Marine. They were spread too thin and in the wrong shape. Here they were white, and there black. So uneven in tone and texture, like burnt wood. Not like meat at all. He would need to tell Cornet that he wasn't fooled for a moment. They had seen thousands of creatures burn, and they never burned the same way twice. There was always something left.

Always something left...

Lyre fell on hands and knees, his fingers disturbing the smaller piles of ash. They fell like grains of sand between the joints in his ceramite gauntlets. Always something left. Be it a tooth or a bone, or...

His fingers brushed against something hard, and Lyre froze in place. Slowly, reverently, he pushed the ashes aside and lifted his discovery into the light of the burning hive. It was a chip of adamantium, triangular in shape, and curved at the corners. One side bore the image of the dual headed Imperial Aquila, and the other a rough scratching of the eight pointed star of Chaos Undivided.

Cornets guitar pick. He was never without it. They never used them on their weapons, but they were keepsakes, in some ways a totem of their dedication to their art. They often joked the picks were in the shape of their souls.

"His soul," Lyre suddenly sat back on his heels, clutching the pick tightly. "Forsworn?" he scanned the rooftop. Two dead Black Templars, a pile of ash, several more Templars spilling out of an internal staircase, drawing chainswords and gaining on him. But no Forsworn. The demoness would not have burned. And as long as she lived, then Cornet lived too! Or at least his soul was in safekeeping.

Lyre went to the edge and peeked over. It was a long shot but maybe Cornet had lost his weapon somehow? The edge of the roof overlooked a series of smaller rooftop gardens, descending in a series of steps before terminating in a large balcony no doubt used by the hives elite. On the balcony he saw Forsworn, and a young boy.

The boy looked beaten, bleeding from the head, one arm hanging limp at his side while he dragged Forsworn behind him. The weapon was easily his equal in size and mass if not more, yet still he tugged on. Forsworn was illuminated by an interior blue glow, flickering purple around the black curves of her body. Lyre jumped snapped his helm back on, then jumped down to the next tier before the Black Templars chasing him could start shooting.

A bolt round shattered a garden pot near the boy, and the boy dropped to one knee, sliding Forsworn out before him on the ground. More Black Templars spilled out onto the roof, some of them after the boy, the rest after Lyre. Before they could raise their weapons, the boy ripped his fingers along Forsworns strings, tearing a pained growl from the weapon that erupted into a wave of sound and agony. Lyre could hear Cornet's voice in that sound, screaming in fury and rage as the wave became a solid glowing blue wall. The balcony was instantly covered in hoarfrost, and the taste of the Warp was sharp in the air.

The Black Templars hesitated, and Lyre jumped down the final few tiers, landing next to the boy, ripping a chord of his own from Red Widow. A familiar sensation came over him. Cornet was here, not in those charred remains on the roof above. He was here.

The boy slammed his fists on the strings again, and Lyre could almost see a vague outline of his brother Noise Marine standing over the boy, wreathed in cold blue flame. Forsworn once again sent a painful shockwave across the balcony, spilling a few Black Templars over the edge, the ones that did not collapse from the sheer intensity of the sound. Lyre didn't waste the moment the enemy took to regroup. He grabbed both the boy and Forsworn, then jumped over the edge of the final tier. To his surprise, the boy didn't struggle and didn't cry out.

Red Widow gave a few bursts of sound to arrest his fall before Lyre touched down on the street level. He carried the shock through his legs and knees, and crouched for a moment to gain his bearings. He could feel Cornet. Sense that Cornet was with him, although whether that was coming from Forsworn or the boy it was hard to tell. He stood and dropped the boy to the ground, then swung Forsworn over his shoulder. The boy fell with a grunt and looked up at Lyre fearlessly.

"You must be Lyre. Coronet told me about you. You're his friend."

Lyre felt his skin prickle when the boy mispronounced Cornets name.

"Take me with you," the boy pulled himself to his feet.

Lyre knelt until he was on eye-level with the youth. "I might kill you boy. Are you aware of what you ask?"

The boys features took on a hard expression that men three times his age couldn't pull off well.

"You said you 'might' kill me. I know for certain, they will," he pointed one finger upwards toward the rooftops. "My hive is on fire, and they have already branded me as a heretic! Take me with you!"

Lyre considered it, then shook his head. "I don't know what Cornet filled your head with, but a Chaos Warband is no place for a child. Unless I decide to sell you," he growled. Lyre stood up again, standing tall above the youth. "Now run."

The boy remained rooted, breathing heavily, his small limbs shaking with either fear or exhaustion. Perhaps both. "No," he hissed. "You're looking for your target? General Faircreek? I know where they have taken him."

Lyre suddenly turned on the boy, then reached up and removed his helm and glared down at him. The boy in turn glared back, fists clenched. In the low light, the first thing that caught the boys attention were Lyre's eyes. One was red, the other blue. At Lyre's back and side, Forsworn shivered a little, and once again Lyre was filled with the peace he only knew in Cornets presence.

Cornet was gone. But this boy already showed bravery that was beyond his years. Forsworn had even responded to his touch. "Once you tread this path boy, there is no turning back."

The boy nodded. "It won't be any worse than here."

"I'm sure that remains to be seen," Lyre hooked his helm at his waist. "Come," he held out his hand and the boy took it. Lyre drew him into his arms and stood, carrying the youth to the open end of the alley. Within moments, the child had fallen asleep in his arms.

"There he is," Fret pulled the Rhino over near an open alleyway. Lyre emerged from the shadows with a dirty bundle in his arms. Elision opened the side hatch to let Lyre in.

Lyre stepped into the Rhino, and shut the hatch behind him. Fret then tossed the Rhino in reverse to make their escape. Lyre approached an empty bunk, and set the bundle down on it, then pulled Forsworn from his shoulder and lay the weapon down next to it. He could feel the question on everyone's mind. Sonata looked at him, an expression of expectant apprehension burning in her eyes.

Lyre removed his helm, then crossed the small space to stand before her. Already tears were spilling down her pale cheeks. He took her hands, placed the guitar pick in her palm, then closed her fingers over it. He leaned in and kissed her temple, smelling her sweat and holding her close for a moment. No one dared to breathe a word or make a sound. Sonata gasped, holding back a cry of sorrow that threatened to overcome her. She reached up and wrapped her arms around Lyre's neck, resting her head in the small area between his pauldron and gorget. He wrapped his arms around the small of her back and held her close, each of them sharing the others pain. One, enveloped by the loss of a brother, the other consumed by the loss of a lover. Blame would come later, anger would surface and rip into both. For now there was only a moment of silence that seemed pitifully appropriate for the death of a Noise Marine.

Ten minutes later Fret pulled the Rhino over again at Lyre's request, then set the servitors on guard duty. Tensions and emotions where high in the crew compartment of the vehicle. Cornet had been the glue that held the band together. Without them they felt adrift and leaderless. Accusations flew toward Lyre. Where had he been when Cornet was slain? Why hadn't he come to the aid of his brother sooner? Why did they part ways to begin with?

Most of these were questions that Lyre had been asking himself, part of him still unable to digest that Cornet was really gone. Death was an accepted part of their existence, and as they had all witnessed, even gods could tumble if caught off guard.

"I'm gone," Crasis announced. "This entire mission was bogus from the beginning. And look what we have lost."

His statement hung in the air like the stench of a stale corpse. Without strong leadership, the band would fall apart. Lyre knew his judgment was being questioned, challenged, and unless he acted he would lose everything he and Cornet had fought for. The bundle on the bed stirred, but no one save for Lyre seemed to notice. Cornet...and I, Lyre thought. This was never just Cornets band.

Suddenly all of the long discussions of what to call their little band made sense. Cornet had understood even if Lyre himself had been too drunk or high or exhausted to care. They needed a name. They needed to be unified under an ideal that wouldn't die if one person did. It wouldn't crumble and falter if someone quit.

Once again the group fell to arguments, who was leaving now, who was going to get what, and possible bands they could align with. Lyre fell silent, fighting down the guilt that Red Widow was taking too much enjoyment in. No. They had worked too hard for the band to fall apart like this.

"Quiet," Monody said. His voice deep and cutting through the bickering like a splash of cold water. "Lyre is trying to speak."

"Then he can shush us himself," Crasis countered.

Lyre hadn't been aware of his lips moving, or even of sounds coming from his throat. But now that the shouting had stopped, he could hear himself for the first time in what felt like years. "I said, no one is going anywhere."

"Lyre, this mission is frakked! Mostly because of you and him!" Crasis jutted an accusatory finger at Monody. "Black Templars are everywhere, we don't even know if the target is still alive!"

Lyre looked on the band. A sensation that he thought had died beginning to well up within him once more. A feeling that he thought Toserian and the Kakaphony had ripped from him. The threat of failure had brought it roaring in with full force. His pride was returning. It had been a caged and wounded beast for far too long, and now it was back. Something must have been obvious in his mismatched eyes because everyone fell silent.

"We finish this mission," Lyre stood up to his full height. "Because if we don't then none of us are getting on that shuttle and we sure as frak won't find ourselves a new band easily. Even if this band is finished do any of you really want the stigma of failure to follow you to your new gigs?" he scanned every face. "Do you?"

Silence.

"Cornet is gone. All of us morn him. We can finish this mission for him, or for ourselves, or for the glory of Chaos Undivided, but we finish it," One by one, he met their eyes. And one by one, his bandmates conceded. "When we get to the battle barge, we collect our payment, and then if you like, we go our separate ways."

"That's well and good. But where is our target?" Fret asked, his arms folded.

Lyre crossed the room to the bundle he had placed on the bed. "Boy. Awaken."

The bundle of rags moved and a youth roughly twelve years of age sat up and yawned. His eyes grew wide as he beheld the band of Noise Marines in various states of gore. His gaze settled on Elision for a moment, more wonder than fear in his expression.

"Boy, how is it you knew Cornet?" Lyre asked. Behind him Sonata crossed her arms.

The boy reached into a pocket at his side and pulled out the slip of paper. "Coronet sent me to find out where they had taken the 'target,' this is where General Faircreek had been moved."

Lyre took the paper and read it, then gave it to Fret. "Find this place. And this time, all of us are going. No more mistakes, its everything or nothing."

"And what do we do with the boy?" Monody asked.

Lyre breathed heavily. "We will discuss that after the mission is over."

The target had been moved to a large distribution and shipping compound on the river that ran partly along, then underneath the hive. The location made it an ideal removal point for any person of interest, and also a staging ground for troops. What was left of the Imperial Guard and PDF were steadily being evacuated from this area while the Black Templars continued to pound the hive, searching for what they were sure was a hidden army of Chaos Marines.

Using back streets and other side alleys, Fret was able to drop the Noise Marines off about a kilometer away from the target, then withdrew to a safer distance. As soon as Monody's ceramite boots hit the ground, he headed in a different direction than the rest of the band with a promise to return.

Lyre led the others toward the eastern side of the compound where the target was reported to have been kept. "Do you think we can trust that old coot?" Crasis asked.

"Monody? He seems harmless enough. Always up for a fight," Lyre answered. "I don't see how having someone that seems to be on a first name basis with the gods of Chaos around can be bad. Worked out well for us so far."

"I still don't trust him."

"Crasis," Sonata sighed. "You and Elision have been battle brothers for years and you still don't trust him."

"I don't trust you much either Sonata," Crasis hissed. "Never trust something that bleeds for five days and doesn't-"

"Shut it," Lyre snapped. They had reached the eastern wall. Towers had been erected at regular intervals, and Lyre could see and hear Guardsmen moving around inside. Searchlights panned the streets and buildings looking for possible infiltrators.

Sonata peered around the corner. "Looks like there's a gate further down. I could easily hop the wall and let the rest of you in. Still don't know whats waiting for us inside though."

Before Lyre could assign reconnaissance roles they heard a loud explosion to the south. Over the vox, and through the air they could hear echoes of Monody's voice.

"Death! Death to the servants of the false emperor! Rise up sons and daughters of Chaos! Rise up and slay your oppressors! Take back your lives and your hive! Make them pay for the years of hardship and betrayal!"

Lyre couldn't help but comment. "Say what you will about Monody Crasis. But that bastard son of Logar has a way of finding an army when he needs one."

Sonata waited until the guards in the nearest tower looked away toward the sound of combat, then slipped away and used her jump pack to alight on the tower. Her bolt pistols spat twin sparks, then all was quiet and dark again. "Got this tower secured. Crasis, Elision, come on over," she chanted into the vox.

The two Noise Marines waited until the searchlights had passed overhead again, then ran to the base of the tower and began to climb. The rocks and brick were no match for their superhuman grip. Lyre was the last, using a deep infrasonic thrum from Red Widow to propel him upward to the tower.

From this vantage point, they could see that Monody had indeed managed to collect an impressive force. Zealots combined with a tide of refugees from the burning hive overcame the gates and Guardsmen by pure weight of numbers. Most were unarmed, but a few began to collect weaponry from the fallen. Elision wasted no time in locating the heavy bolter that had been mounted as a tower defense, then swung it around. Firing first upon the tower to the right, then the one to the left, eliminating the threats on either side before turning it on the interior of the compound. Crasis howled as Elision tore into a set of promethium tanks. The tanks exploded with a terrific crack of thunder, flattening several nearby buildings and sending many Guardsmen and equipment flying.

Elision rode the triggers until the heavy bolter clicked empty and a few of the remaining defenses began to target the tower. He chuckled, his voice sounded blurred through the grill of his jaw. "Time to move on," Lyre announced, running down an internal stair case in the tower and spilling out into the compound proper.

The rest of the band settled into position behind him. They moved as a fluid unit. Each knowing the others strengths and weaknesses, covering and fortifying as needed. Lyre didn't want to train a new group. This one was balanced well enough even without Cornet. They adapted to his absence wonderfully.

Lasfire split the air around them, leaving easily ignored burns on their ceramite armor. Sonata shrieked and a score of Guardsmen dropped to their knees, bleeding from the ears.

"Leave that corpse meat to me Warsinger," Monody growled over the vox. "I've got the killing grounds covered."

Sonata fell back into step as Lyre headed for one of the larger warehouses, following the instructions the boy had found. A pair of Chimeras and a Salamander were parked in front of the warehouse, but their cannons were focused on Monody's horde at the southern gate. Crasis and Elision ripped into them with their Blast Masters, each of them grateful for the chance to finally release. The vehicles, and more importantly the squishy things inside, never stood a chance.

Lyre kicked in the door to the warehouse, and was greeted by the click of many lasguns pointed in his direction. With Sonata at his back, and Crasis and Elision having tasted blood, there was only going to be one outcome. "Showtime!" he shouted before all hell broke loose.

Sonata was the first into the fray, leaping over Lyre's shoulders, her serrated wings spread like an angel of the damned. Her voice filled the air cutting through all senses and reason. Lyre advanced behind her, Red Widow at his hip, roaring hungrily with sounds of despair and sorrow. Elision and Crasis flanked him on either side, the deep infrasonic resonance of their weapons turning the room into one large reverberating grinder.

The first rank of Guardsmen simply ceased to exist. They vanished in a frightened puff of red mist that coated their comrades and choked their lasrifles. The second rank turned in fear, and trampled the third behind them. Sonata landed then withdrew her chainsword and bolt pistol. Screaming obscenities in the praise of Chaos Undivided, she slit bellies and parted heads from shoulders. Lyre advanced behind her, covering her with timed attacks from Red Widow and his own fists when a Guardsman managed to stumble close enough.

The floor was soon a quagmire of blood and offal, with a stench that would make a Plague Marine retch. Elision and Crasis advanced mechanically, their combined tones vibrating bones from the flesh and rendering the remaining fleshy chunks into paste. Sonata had impaled several Guardsmen on her wings, and fluttered around the interior of the warehouse, dropping them like obscene bombs on their fellows, leaving ropes of entrails hanging from the rafters. Blood sloshed over the tops of Lyre's boots as drains became clogged with lungs and livers. Red Widow gorged on the feast before her, claiming souls with a zeal Lyre had never before experienced. More and more she demanded. Losing himself to the moment, that is what Lyre provided for her.

Chunks of human meat exploded against the rockcrete walls, blood collected and rained down from the rafters, stunned groups of Guardsmen huddled in corners until either Crasis or Elision's questing ears located them. One man lost an arm and attempted to fend Lyre off with his amputated limb. Lyre laughed madly, then with a sharp burst from Red Widow, removed the mans legs as well, leaving him to wallow in the blood and feces of his friends.

With a few final ejaculations of sound and melody, the slaughter ended.

The Noise Marines stood in the center of the warehouse, all one thousand of the Guardsmen that had been placed there were reduced to piles of rotting meat and offal.

"So which one was our target?" Crasis asked.

Lyre pointed toward a heavy steel door at the back of the warehouse. The blood dripping from the ceiling coloring his purple and black armor in horrific gory tones. Not needing to be told again, Crasis and Elision crossed the floor, kicking aside chunks of skull and entrails along with the odd helmet or two until they reached the door. Elision snapped the chains on the lock, then he pulled the heavy door open, revealing a small room that had once been a freezer for imported goods.

Sitting in the middle of the room, bound to a chair, was a middle aged man, wearing the uniform of an Imperial Guard General. He looked up timidly at his rescuers.

"General Faircreek?" Sonata asked, covered in so much blood that it gave the appearance that her skin had been ripped away.

"I am he," he glanced at Lyre, Elision, then Crasis. All of them terrifying with vast amounts of gore covering their armor. Lyre's feathered crest had become so soaked in blood and other fluids that it no longer stood upright. Instead it stuck to the sides of his helmet at all angles. "And...who are my saviors?"

Lyre pulled himself up to his full height, then gave a subtle flick of his head, sending the bits of blood caked feathers to the back with a wet slap. "We," he held his arms out to either side, palms open, and placed one foot behind the other, then made an elaborate performers bow. "Are the Aristocrats."

In the distance the hive burned. The horizon smeared in orange and yellow beneath dark clouds of smoke. Somewhere high above, somewhere in the stars lurked a Black Templars Battle Barge, an Imperial Guard troopship, and one very outgunned Chaos warship that awaited precious cargo.

Fret had evicted everyone from the Rhino once they had made it to a small way station far away from the burning hive. His servitors were busy with a water hose cleaning the interior of blood the band had tracked in, while Fret himself happily turned a fire hose on Elision and Crasis to clean bits of stomach lining and esophagus from the cracks in their armor. Lyre stood on an outcropping of rock, helm at his side and inwardly smiling at all the trouble just he and his small warband had caused.

Lyre turned when he heard the sound of small feet approach. The boy picked his way over stones and gravel until he stood next to Lyre. For a moment they watched the hive burn, then Lyre broke the silence. "So you wish to be a Noise Marine?"

The boy nodded, never taking his eyes from the flames.

"Its difficult. You will be tested. You may end up dead like Cornet, or worse. Your soul in the clutches of an unforgiving demon, or the plaything of a ruthless god."

The boy looked to Lyre. "If I stay here, I'll end up dead of starvation, my soul belonging to a manufactorum, or the plaything of a ruthless god on a golden throne. At least with the Aristocrats, I can chose how and when I die."

"So be it," Lyre smiled sadly. He could see why Cornet had gone to such lengths for the youth. "What is your name?"

"I don't have one. Everyone has always called me 'boy'."

Lyre shook his head. "That won't do for a Noise Marine," he crossed his arms and sized the child up, then said. "Clef."

"Clef?" the boy asked. "Whats a clef?"

"A clef is a symbol used in music that indicates which pitch the piece is played in."

"I like it," Clef stepped away from Lyre as Sonata approached.

"Go help Fret get the Rhino cleaned," Lyre gave Clef a playful shove with his boot back toward the transport.

Sonata watched Clef as he ran. "A child?"

"A Noise Marine in training," Lyre corrected her. "How is our passenger?"

"Hungry, like the rest of us," she walked with a limp, fresh bandages wrapped around her torso. "I don't think this wound is ever going to heal," she held out a wrapped package for Lyre. "Here. I found it in Cornets belongings," for a moment she watched the hive burn. "A fitting pyre for a phoenix."

Lyre looked at the package, then opened it. Inside was a bottle of amasec from Terra. Lyre didn't know how Cornet had gotten his hands on such a find, but it was easily worth more than they would make from this mission. Watching the hive burn, he popped the seal then removed the cork and drank deeply. He drained half the bottle, then poured the rest on the rock at his feet, the amber liquid taking on the appearance of golden fire in the light of the burning hive. "By the fire, I swear that you will never be forgotten Cornet, and I will uphold our legacy."

There had been no more talk of breaking away from the band, and everyone was in agreement that the Aristocrats was a perfect name for their motley crew. The name had unified them as nothing else had done. Ever since Lyre had left the Phoenix Guard he had felt adrift. But now he had a band to call his own, and an empire to claim. Fret had even began on a heraldry design for their band. A golden Coronet set on a harlequin background of blue and red.

Lyre set the bottle down on the rock, turning back to the Rhino and his destiny.