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Anonymous ONI Agent and A Fellow Stalker proudly present to you:

A heart touching story of friendship, brotherhood, and brevity in the grim dark future of the 41st millennium.

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This article, Anon and Stalker's Grimdark Adventure Extravaganza Extraordinaire, was written by A Fellow Stalker and Anonymous ONI agent. Please do not edit this fiction without the writers' permission.
40px-Cquote1.png Against stupidity; the Emperor himself is helpless.
Addeus Morrelius
ONI and Stalker heart

Chapter 1: One of the GirlsEdit

Guardsmen Paleta cried as the las round blew through the back of her chest and she toppled heavily over the barrier. When Cain made it to her, she was already dead. The commissar looked at her body sadly before looking around at the carnage and raising himself onto his feet from the little cover that the concrete barrier was giving him, ignoring the bolts and las that flew mere inches from his head.

"Troopers! To me! Burn the heretic! Kill the mutant! Purge the unclean!" the commissar waved his pistol dramatically before sliding over the barricade, sprinting straight at the confused heretics. A small swarm of troopers followed after the imposing figure of the commissar, and cried "Cain! Cain! Cain!" as they charged with him, bayonets armed.

Sliding out his sword, Cain sliced open a heretic as he hopped over their barricade, then shot down two others who were bringing a stubber around to bear. Another heretic almost got the drop on him, laughing and crying obscenities as it swung at Cain with a rusty old butcher's knife before a bayonet caught him just under the pit. The commissar spun around to see Trooper Malieh blast away the twitching remains of the heretic, they exchanged smiles.

Suddenly, a wall at the edge of the urban battlefield exploded, an old Sentinel walker which was covered with crude symbols of the arch enemy ducked under the remains of the wall and began blasting at the victorious troopers. The guardsmen all ran for cover, besides Cain, who simply let out a war cry and charged the vehicle.

He dodged the shots, the troopers cheering as he ran and the driver of the foul vehicle gasping as he realized his doom was drawing nea-


"Trooper Stalkus! Stalkus!" Guardsmen Fablus 'Stalker' Stalkus glanced around in confusion as someone shouted his name. He was hoping he would have some free time in the small theater but it seemed that his relaxation time was being cut. Twisting around so he could see the entrance at the back of the theater, he saw Lieutenant Sorela standing there with her hands on her hips.

Stalker struggled to get out of his seat and grab his gear in an organized manner at the same time. His efforts simply ended with the straps being tangled around him and his rifle poking into his ribs.

"Coming ma'am!" he cried as he stumbled away from the seat.

"Men,"-Sorela groaned and began leaving-"get out here, idiot." Stalker was the only man in the 143rd Fanollian Amazon Heavy Infantry regiment. Stalker never knew exactly why he was in the regiment, though Lieutenant Sorela had told him it was because of an incompetent bureaucracy. When she had thrown him into the Munitorum to sort it out, the servitor had pulled up his record, informed him he was a woman and shoved him back out, and that was that.

He ran past the old chairs, the film of the legendary Ciaphais Cain still playing on the screen. Deep down, Stalker knew he had the makings of a man like Cain, he knew that he would be the hero of his generat-

Stalker's thought was cut off as he yelped, falling to the ground due to his tangled bootlaces. He toppled over into the hall, landing on his elbows, to the snickers of some passing Amazons. Lieutenant Sorela turned around and sighed.

"How did someone like you survive when the real troopers didn't?" she was of course speaking of their most recent battle. First they had been beset by Orks, then Tyranids dropped on the planet, and recently there had been reports of the citizens turning to the ruinous powers of Chaos.

Sorela reached down and pulled him to his feet, their pink armor clanking against each other as the two found their footing; or his footing to be exact. The Amazonian armor was meant to accentuate their gender, pink with a darker pink set of fatigues, red hearts with a bayonet sticking through them were the regiments symbol, emblazoned proudly on all their shoulder pads. It made most other guardsmen regiments laugh when they saw him.

"So, now that Adenia, Liea and Mio are dead, you're the only member of third team left. Correct?" Stalker frowned as he remembered his teammates being torn apart by the variety of enemies they were being beset by. From what he had seen and heard, the rest of the regiment fared no better.

"Yes ma'am, I'm the only one left," he took a breath and flinched as the Bassilisks began firing into the distance again, outside of the city block the regiment had occupied, "and proud to still be serving the Emperor, if I might add."

Sorela sighed at his attempt to suck up to her, before continuing as if he said nothing,

"The 151st Fanoon Light Infantry got decimated in the last fight too, both our regiments are down to half strength..." she left the rest open for interpretation.

"Hah! Take that Fanoonens, now let's see who is the best regiment! Stupid men!" Stalker fist pumped and Sorela rubbed the bridge of her nose.

"Shut up Stalker. Our regiments are being joined, we are going to be the 151st/143rd Fanoons. They happened to have a fireteam with a man left, and we have a fireteam with an idiot left, so congrats, now they can deal with you." Stalker gasped dramatically at the revelation as they stepped into the sunlight and past some of the yellow clad Fanoonens. Fanoonens were the Fanollians biggest rival, Fanollia being a moon orbiting Fanoon led to conflict. It was said that before the Imperium found them, the moon and planet were launching rockets at each other for millennium.

"But I don't want to be in one of those icky Fanoonen regiments! What will the showers be like!" the horror of the idea was plain on Stalker's pale face, Sorela just shook her head and led him down the road, the two dodging a pink Chimera which rumbled down, ignoring the gunner blowing Stalker a kiss and then laughing as she drove by.

"I assume the showers will be blissfully quiet without you talking about flowers while we try washing, but that's just me." Stalker flinched as the Basilisks fired off more of their shells into the horizon, the ground shaking underfoot.

"B-but, even if there was another fireteam with one guy, we need more than two!" Sorela shuddered at his shrill voice, leading him into a set of double doors and into the warehouse that had been converted into the regimental headquarters.

"I don't care if the other guy is dead when you get there, you're going to be his fireteam leader and you're going to like it. By the way, congrats on the promotion." Stalker gasped and let out a high pitched squeal which attracted the attention of every officer and voxcaster in the room before Sorela shoved him through an open doorway.

"Have fun!" Stalker heard her shout, happiness breaking into her voice and the door slamming behind him. Looking up, he saw his new teammate.

Chapter 2: Meet AnonusEdit

Anon's life had always seemed like a comedy of errors. His parents were had both been Witchhunters for the Ordo Hereticus, but were killed by the Adeptus Arbites while undercover as hive gangers. After their death, he was sent to the Schola Progenium, where he was bullied relentlessly, but he was expelled after he stood up to the bully, who unfortunately for Anon turned out to be the nephew of an Ecclesiarch.

After spending the rest of his childhood in an orphanage, he became a supervisor at a manufactorum, only to be arrested when the Adeptus Mechanicus caught him trying to fix a broken machine himself instead of notifying the supervising tech priest, despite the cause of the malfunction being that Anon's supervising tech priest had been sucked into the machine, jamming it.

For the "crime", he was sentenced to serve in a penal regiment. However, the penal regiment he was to serve in was shortly thereafter discovered to have somehow staged a successful coup against its leadership. Thus, with nowhere else to go, Anon was grudgingly taken under the wing of the 151st Fanoonen Regiment, where he had suffered ever since.

All he had ever wanted was to go home and be left alone. And, for once, it seemed like Anon was about to get his wish. After eight years of service with the 151st, his mandated service period was over. He was scheduled to board the next ship back to his home system of Graephus, which would be leaving in just a few hours.

No sooner had he finished packing the few personal belongings he had kept with him over the past eight years, there was a knock at the door to Anon's bunk. He answered, and upon opening the door he found a messenger standing before him. "You are Private Anonus Bananius, correct?" "Uh, yes. What's this about exactly? I have a ship to catch." The messenger reached into his pocket, pulling out a small slip of paper, which he then held out to Anon. "Not anymore. The Company Commander needs you for something."


"Private Bananius, I'm going to have to ask you not to break down my office door," said Anon's commanding officer, Commander Klaus Konig, not bothering to look up from the papers he was shuffling through as he spoke. "Especially if you're going to use the messenger's face as a makeshift battering ram." Anon rolled his eyes. "So why the hell do you need me specifically? Why not someone else? Someone who isn't, oh say, supposed to go home today?" Commander Konig looked up from his papers momentarily to shoot Anon a glaring, irritable look, clearly displeased with Anon's disrespectful tone.

"Well, honestly, we need to move this plot along somehow. Stop trying to point out plot holes." Konig's Commissar advisor whispered something in his ear after Konig had finished speaking. "Oh, it appears I'm not supposed to break the fourth wall. My apologies." The commander paused for a moment before continuing. "Your squad was killed by Tyranids earlier today."

Good. They were a bunch of stupid jackasses anyways, Anon thought, though he didn't dare say it aloud. "We're reassigning you to a brand new squad." He waved the Commissar over to the door. Before he could open it, the door slammed down and a happy looking guardsmen fell in, then immediately his expression turned to horror. "Private Bananius, meet your new Sergeant."