Imperium Lupi

by Adam Browne

  To which Uther gruffed, “Don’t be daft, Woodlouse.”

  “No, s-sss-sorry.” Looking around, Linus whispered, “Did you see him?”

  “Eh?”

  Before Linus could explain, two Politzi hogs hurriedly bore another stretcher from the refinery to the ambulance; Vladimir Oromov followed closely behind. To Linus’s shock he saw the wounded beast was a hyena. It must be the Chakaa that Vladimir had spoken of.

  Linus felt a steaming wave of fury wash over him. These THORN fanatics had beaten and shot Uther, and now one was being put into the very same ambulance as him? It was an outrage!

  “Sir, what’s going on?” Linus demanded, barring the ambulance with his stocky frame. “Uther’s in here.”

  Vladimir took a moment to grasp the problem. “Oh do calm down, Mills, there’s room enough for two. We need the Chakaa alive to interrogate him. Even if he was in a position to fight he’s well-restrained.”

  Linus noted the reams of Howler-wire binding the feverish-looking hyena paw and foot.

  “You’re on thin ice, Howler,” Vladimir warned. “One more peep out of you today and I’ll send you to Amael for correction, is that understood?”

  A nod. “Yes, sir… I-I was just-”

  “Shut up, Mills!”

  A gulp. “Sir.”

  “We’ll take it from here, Grand Howler,” the Howler medic said, breaking Linus from his thoughts. He was ushered from the ambulance and the unconscious hyena slipped in beside Uther like a loaf of bread. Without further ado the doors were slammed shut and the horns atop the ambulance blared out an ear-piercing siren. It charged through the cordon and down the road, headlights beaming.

  Momentarily caught in the ambulance’s passing lights was a big Howler sitting atop a blue monobike – an Eisbrand? He was parked by the side of the road, watching the goings-on at the refinery.

  “Linus, see who that is,” Vladimir said. “I’ll be inside.”

  “Sir!” Linus acknowledged extra-smartly, trying to claw back some semblance of obedience.

  The Eisbrand saw the Bloodfang approach and Linus half-expected him to ride away, but he stayed put, one armoured foot on the wet, gritty ground, the other on his bike. He was an Eisbrand all right, the blue-imperium snowflake emblem gently illuminating his armoured brow made that plain.

  “State your business, Howler,” Linus demanded, noting the intimidating sword at the Eisbrand’s back.

  “Curiosity,” he replied.

  “This is Bloodfang territory.”

  “Lupa’s a free city. I can loiter where I please.”

  To which Linus nodded, rainwater dripping off his metallic muzzle. “Yes, but for your own safety I suggest you keep away from here. It could be dangerous.”

  “Is that a threat?” the stranger growled.

  “What? No, no!” Linus chirped. “I-I didn’t mean it like that!” he guffawed. Shaking his head, he held out paw to mollify his fellow Howler, “Where’re my manners? I’m Linus Mills Bloodfang, Trooper First Class.”

  The Eisbrand cautiously looked Linus up and down, but accepted his paw, “Captain Tristan Donskoy… Eisbrand, of course.”

  Linus gasped a little, “Ivan’s cousin?”

  Tristan nodded.

  “Honoured, Howler,” Linus said, nodding back.

  “Honour’s mine,” Tristan sniffed. “I hear you’re quite the Howler, Mills.”

  “Me?”

  “Took down a nest of Howler-killers, didn’t you?”

  Linus came over all flustered. “That was Uther really. I-I-I got in way over my head.”

  “Modest too,” Tristan observed. He looked past Linus, to the now quiet refinery. “It seems you have everything under control, Howler Mills, you and ALPHA.”

  “I wish. It’s a terrible shambles I’m afraid.”

  “Oh?”

  Linus wasn’t sure if he should be telling a member of rival pack such things but, “By the looks of it all the terrorists are dead or fled, save one. It’s a right sorry sight in there.”

  Tristan nodded, “I hear they commit suicide by swallowing black-imperium these THORN fanatics.”

  “Yes. It’s awful. They put capsules in their mouths when they know we’re coming and crunch them when there’s no chance of escape.” Linus closed his eyes and shook his head at some awful vision. “Grand Howler Rufus was trying to talk one round just now,” he continued. “We had him cornered in an office. He was just a cub.”

  “No luck?”

  “His flesh just… just fell away like wax. I’ll never forget it. Never.”

  “It’s a shame they feel driven to such ends.”

  “It’s insane!” Linus seethed. “I don’t understand these THORN types. Hyenas don’t believe in suicide; it’s a sin that bars them from crossing the Eternal Plains. Dying in battle is one thing, but to just kill yourself? It goes against everything a young warrior is taught.”

  “You know your hyenas,” Tristan observed, surprised.

  Linus shrugged that off with, “I know Rufus Valerio.”

  Nodding, Tristan asked, “You said you’ve a survivor?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s his name?”

  Linus was surprised to be asked, “No idea.”

  “You’ll torture him to find out though?”

  “Interrogate,” Linus corrected.

  “That what you Bloodfangs call racking these days?” Tristan chuckled.

  Linus wasn’t sure how to respond and moved swiftly on to keep things civil. “In any case, friend, it’s not over yet. We’ve a giant sewer centipede on the loose in there, so you should keep your distance.”

  “Sewer centipede?” Tristan scoffed in amusement. “That’s no problem for the mighty Bloodfangs, surely!”

  “It’s a big one.”

  “How big?”

  “I haven’t seen it. The air’s so thick in there we can’t find it. Uther says it’s the biggest he’s ever seen.”

  “Judging by Uther’s knack for exaggeration it’ll be about two inches long, then,” Tristan huffed.

  Linus actually laughed, “You know, I hope so-”

  Suddenly the peal of breaking glass cut across the refinery grounds. Through the rain and fog, Linus and Tristan saw flashes of light illuminate the windows and heard the subsequent pops and cracks of imperium pistols.

  “Excuse me,” Linus said, hurrying back.

  Tristan stayed put on his mono, but started it up, the wheel’s gyroscope bursting into a ring of frosty blue-imperium.

  As Linus tore towards the refinery, Werner trotted from the main door with a dozen armed Politzi at his back. They scuttled round the side of the towering building and lined up like a firing squad.

  The Politzi aimed upwards as Werner ran his torch beam up the nearest smouldering smoke stack.

  They waited.

  “Werner, what is it?” Linus panted.

  “It’s coming up the chimney, sir,” the pig replied.

  “What is?”

  “The centipede.”

  Sure enough an enormous, many-legged centipede erupted the refinery’s chimney, squeezing its way to freedom like vivid blue paint from a tube.

  “By Ulf’s fangs, look at it!” Linus woofed.

  “Aye, it’s a whopper,” snorted Werner.

  The giant bug flopped forward and started trickling down the side of the chimney, its orange legs clacking rhythmically. The beast was so long that its rear end remained inside the great funnel even whilst its front end reached the roof and started to spill over towards the ground.

  “Steady!” Werner said. “Hold your fire!”

  The Politzi, rabbits, rats, hogs and more, quivered in fear.

  “Steady, I say!”

  Linus watched, waited.

  “Fire!”

  Werner’s beasts opened a mighty volley, lighting up the refinery for a moment, before they were instantly enveloped in clouds of ash. The resulting pellets pinged harmlessly off the centipede’s armour and s
erved only to alert it to the rough whereabouts of its tormentors towards whom it now raced.

  “Retreat!” Werner yelped. “Split up! Split up! It can’t follow all of us!”

  The pig and his Politzi scattered in all directions as the centipede clacked swiftly towards them, antennae slicing the rainy air where they had been but seconds ago. It picked out an unfortunate rabbit from the group and ran him down, cornering him inside an outlying building.

  It was Constable Claybourne!

  “Aaagh!” he screamed, ducking into a ball. “Help meeheheee! Please!”

  Whipping out his short sword, Linus sprinted over to the centipede’s back end. As it bore down on Claybourne, he slashed at one of its legs with a bright, plasmatic sword-strike and a gruff, Uther-like, “Oi!”

  The centipede arced round, almost indignant, and undulated rapidly towards Linus, claw over giant orange claw, antennae tasting the rainy air.

  Realising what he’d done, Linus unbuckled his kristahl shield and brought it to bear. He could see the centipede was wounded, its mouth dripping white blood. Every Howler worth his sting knew that the mouth was the place to strike.

  “Get outta there, sir!” Werner squealed from the safety of some crates. “Run, lad!”

  Too late.

  The colossal centipede lunged at Linus, bloodied maw agape, and he instinctively raised his shield.

  Impact!

  Trooper Linus was knocked flat on his back and crushed to the hard, rough ground, the air pressed from his lungs. He felt the mandibles of the centipede’s mouth scraping over his shield’s smooth surface as it tried to get a purchase and bite through to the tasty wolfen morsel beneath. The bitter, acrid stench of centipede ammonia burnt Linus’s nose and throat.

  Summoning all his strength, the young Howler channelled the imperium down his arm and into the centre of his Bloodfang shield. The kristahl metal pulsed with white-hot plasma, blasting the centipede right in the face! It whipped away in pain and alarm, plasma playing over its mandibles. Linus seized the opportunity to roll to his feet, shield up, sword ready, tail flicking. He knew from the Howler Codex not to flee; this monster could run as fast a car and would just chase him down.

  Stand and fight, it was the only way.

  The centipede recovered and followed Linus across the refinery grounds, feelers slapping his shield as he retreated backwards, foot over smartly white-gaitered, ash-streaked foot.

  Suddenly a light appeared, bright and white; the ear-piercing popping of an imperium engine too. Linus dared look just as a monobike whizzed across the refinery grounds towards him. It thrummed loudly between him and the centipede. There was a flash of steel and spark of plasma as a huge sword slashed the centipede in the head! Writhing about in pain, it reared up and away.

  The bike and its rider skidded round and powered back, parking neatly by the awestruck Linus.

  “Get on!” Tristan barked.

  Linus jumped on the monobike. Burning rubber, Eisbrand whisked Bloodfang away a few tens of feet before slowing to a stop at the refinery’s main entrance.

  They both looked on as the baffled centipede searched for them in vain, before continuing its rampage elsewhere

  “All right,” admitted Tristan, “that’s pretty big.”

  Vladimir and Rufus emerged from the refinery amidst utter chaos. Politzi of every race fled before the oncoming tide of living armour as it flowed towards the refinery’s perimeter, washing over barrels and boxes and even crushing a Politzi car, spearing its arch-shaped bonnet with its dagger-like legs as if it were paper.

  “We can’t let it get out into the city!” Rufus said, swishing his sword.

  “I’m open to suggestions,” Vladimir replied.

  Werner guffawed falsely, “Shooting it won’t work, that’s for sure!”

  The Howlers watched the centipede trundle through the gates and onto the road, scattering the law and kicking over monobikes as it went on its merry way. Luckily, Ivan’s Giacomo Valerio Spider was spared destruction, but Vladimir’s pack-issued car was quickly crushed as the centipede trampled it under every single one of its legs, as if taking some perverse pleasure.

  Vladimir winced at the sight. “Amael’s not going to be happy,” he grumbled.

  “If it scratches Ivan’s Spider it’s as good as dead,” Rufus chuckled.

  With that he took the lead, striding across the refinery grounds, and out onto the road, tracing the centipede’s wake of destruction and bristly ammonia scent.

  Even whilst its back end still crumpled Vladimir’s car underfoot, the centipede’s head end was starting to scale a warehouse wall. Its segmented body shimmered with ghostly waves of imperium, illuminating the glistening buildings all around and the awestruck faces of the Politzi observing helplessly below.

  Vladimir and Rufus stared along with everyone else, as unsure as to how to proceed against such a monster as anyone.

  “Magnificent sight, isn’t it?” said Doctor Josef, coming up behind them with his umbrella – the cat had a nasty habit of sneaking up on beasts.

  “Magnificent?” Vladimir spluttered. “It’s a menace!”

  Chuckling, Josef ignored him in favour of Rufus, “By the way, may I offer my congratulations, Rufus.”

  The preoccupied wolf turned to him a moment, “Pardon?”

  “On your recent accolade.”

  Rufus said nothing.

  Josef twirled his umbrella. “Such a great mind as yours is wasted here,” he said, pushing his dark spectacles up his neat feline nose. “You’d do well to talk to Grand Prefect Silvermane. He did wonders for me. I’ve my own laboratory, and I’ve suffered very little interference in my work since I jumped ship.”

  This time Rufus let out an incredulous snort.

  Vladimir too, “Excuse me, Doctor Josef, but this is hardly the time to go head-hunting. We’ve a deranged centipede on the loose.”

  Josef dismissed haughtily, “Rafe will take care of it, once he’s taken care of the hyenas.”

  “What is he, the incarnation of Ulf?” Vladimir mocked.

  “You doubt the power of my creation?” Josef chuckled. “A common mistake.”

  Rufus whirled on the grey cat, “So you did it? You made that boy into an Eisenwolf?”

  Josef bowed a little, “Rafe is what he is; I merely helped him achieve his full potential-”

  Grabbing Josef’s coat lapels, Rufus heaved the cat off his feet and slammed him into the black ALPHA truck that had brought him and his ‘creation’ here.

  “Bastard cat!” Rufus snarled, his cannonball biceps straining against his ruddy fur. “What gave you the right? Did you even ask him? Did you even go through the motions, or did you just abduct him? Answer me!”

  “Rafe was a willing subject in-”

  “Rafe? ‘Rafe’!” Rufus spluttered, shaking Josef until his spectacles nearly fell off his face. “By Ulf, do you think I don’t know, that I can’t tell, I who found him first? You stole his future you miserable schmutz-sucking maggot!”

  “He… was… dying… Rufus!” Josef said between shakes.

  “And he’ll die a lot faster now, though not as fast as you when I’m through with you-”

  “Rufus that’s enough!” Vladimir bellowed, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him away. “Control yourself, for Ulf’s sake!”

  Rufus let Josef go, but glared at him and pointed like a common brawler. “You’ll pay for this!”

  “Your wife found him for me,” Josef claimed, dusting himself down and resetting his spectacles. “No, in fact, you found him. For once your keen coronal senses have served the Republic, instead sating your own lecherous cravings-”

  Rufus lunged at Josef a second time, but the bigger Vladimir tugged the furious wolf aside and threw him against the van. “Leave it, Rufus!” he snarled, his helmet grille and profound voice tickling the shorter wolf’s ear. “You can’t pick a fight with ALPHA. You hit him and they’ll throw the book at you! Don’t give them any excuse when you’re already of
interest.”

  “Josef I expect it from,” Rufus laughed falsely, shaking his head. “But my own wife? My dear Jan, sinking so low? I’d never have believed it. Never!”

  Vladimir huffed, “She must have good reason.”

  “Don’t defend her!”

  “For someone so clever there’s much you don’t see, Valerio.”

  Rufus glared at Vladimir.

  The noise of Tristan’s approaching monobike put paid to any further upset. It rumbled to a stop and Linus hopped off the back.

  “Sir!”

  “Fraternising with Eisbrands, Mills?” Vladimir joked, releasing Rufus. “Your list of misdemeanours lengthens still.”

  “Howler Tristan helped me get away, sir.”

  “Did he indeed? Then we’re indebted to him, aren’t we Rufus?”

  Tidying his mantle, Rufus looked Tristan over and snorted with what Linus sensed was barely-veiled malice, “Grateful, I’m sure.”

  Vladimir spread a paw, “I don’t know what you’re doing here, Donskoy, but if you want to help us-”

  “We’re all prey here, Vladimir, a sewer centipede makes no distinction according to one’s brooch,” the Eisbrand cut in. He glanced at the centipede twisting its way along the buildings, before asking, “Where’s my cousin?”

  Vladimir sighed, “Gallivanting through the sewers after THORN, last we heard.”

  “Dirty old sewers? Ivan Donskoy? Are you sure?”

  “Uther said so.”

  Tristan winked at Linus with the latter of his green and blue eyes. “Ah, well then it must be true.”

  Linus smiled beneath his helm.

  “It’s going!” Werner shouted. “It’s off, sirs, look!”

  Sure enough the centipede’s head disappeared round the side of a building and slipped into a narrow alley. Its orange legs picked up the pace, double-time, triple-time, drumming the roof of Vladimir’s mangled car and threading its never-ending body into the alleyway.

  “We can’t lose it,” Rufus said.

  “Lose it?” Linus scoffed. “How could we even begin to?”

  “It’ll look for somewhere warm and dark, like the sewers again. Then it could pop out anywhere, kill anyone. We must stop it.”

  “But how?”

  Tristan swung his legs off his monobike and drew his mighty sword from his back, hefting it in both armoured paws he touched it to his metallic nose. “The old-fashioned way,” he said. “Lead on, Grand Howlers, age before beauty.”