Magnus flexed his fingers in his plasteel gauntlets, they would come again, he knew it.
His men would hold. They had to.
He was General Magnus Archite, leader of men and one of the greatest warriors the human race had to offer.

His men were the best, thirty of them, hand-picked by him. But here on Xerosis, that meant next to nothing, his troops falling in droves.
This surgical strike had supposed to be easy, a rallying point for the human squads stranded elsewhere on the planets hostile surface.

It had been anything but easy.

Magnus had led the assault himself, fully expecting the aliens to scatter before his marine's onslaught of lead shot and firestorm.
They hadn't broken, and resistance had been fierce, the xeroxians fighting back with all their might, defiance fuelling their desperate struggle.

They fought back with weapons forged of their very souls, capable of tearing through armour and bone alike.
They stood almost seven feet tall, their fangs and claws giving them an almost bestial appearance. Their skin was red tinged, further enhancing their demonic reputation, inspiring fear into those who dared to face them.

Now only ten of the thirty remained alive, including Magnus himself. Fighting through blood and fire, they had reached a human fortress, put in place at the beginning of the war, a veritable bunker, practically impregnable.
This attack was meant to end the war; it had gone on too long.
But now the humans were once again on the defensive, much like at the start of this conflict between the two mighty races.
The xeroxians had ravaged the Earth, in a ferocious assault, sweeping all resistance before it.
There was nothing the humans could have done.

The xeroxians space hulks had come hurtling out of the void, crossing the gulf of space with astonishing speed, prodigious amalgamations of metal and flesh.
But the humans had fought back with astounding fierceness, driving the xeroxians from their planet, sending their leviathans limping back across space.

In the aftermath, the remainder of the human race launched a counterattack, seeking to crush them under the iron shod heel of their planet spanning Empire.
In their arrogance, or just blindness, they had sent men to Xerosis, anticipating an easy victory.

That victory hadn't come, and still the battle raged on.

Magnus and his men sat inside this fortress, locked down and besieged by the masses of xeroxians outside.
All was quiet, aside from the occasional crash as another of the bunkers defences fell to the implacable strength of the aliens.
It was only a matter of time, death came for them.

Each man prepared in his own way, praying, cleaning and loading their rifles or simply staring at the impassive concrete walls.
Magnus walked among them, helping morale simply with his presence.
He strode through the narrow corridors, falsified courage in his every step.
Reaching the bunkers weapon store, he ran his armoured fingers through his greying hair
'So this is it, the end. Somehow I knew it would be like this' he muttered to himself, sighing deeply
He reached to one side, retrieving a laser pistol from the rack beside him, slipping it into his holster with a hiss of hydraulics.

A voice behind him said:
'The end? We'll see about that, I certainly don't intend on dying here'
He turned, to face Colonel Jameson, his scarred face smirking as he puffed on a cigar and loaded his rifle
Magnus grinned 'You never intend on dying anywhere' he said, smile lingering on his features.
'Very true, and I'm certainly not going to be beaten by any savage with a sword, not just yet'
Another crash sounded throughout the bunker.

The smile faded from Magnus' face 'Not long now, almost time we make our stand.'
Jameson's' eyes took on a serious cast 'Aye, and a glorious stand it will be'
Without another word, they walked on together, to the outer corridors of the bunker where the men had assembled.

The reinforced bunker door shook from the barrage of blows upon it, buckling under the mighty edges of the soul swords.
Marines locked their weapons, aiming them at the door.

The metal gave way under the assault, xeroxians surging through into the cramped hallways of the bunker, charging towards the waiting marines.
Bullets ripped through the air, tearing into xeroxian flesh, sending several of the monstrosities crashing to the steel floor.

But still they came on, snarling and roaring their guttural war cries.
More shots were fired, felling aliens as they ran, but more still poured into the bunker.
Seeking to overwhelm the marines with ferocity and numbers, they had no care for their fallen, clambering over corpses to attack the beleaguered troops.
Steadily they grew closer, charging through the storm of firepower.
Swords whirling and voices raised, they came on.

Magnus planted his feet, firing into the masses, punching holes in the savages. But still more flowed into the breach.
Soon they came within arms reach of the marines, cutting down Brooks and O'Shea, both fine captains.
They fell, screaming as the soul swords cleaved through armour, flesh and bone alike.
Their deaths were but a taste of what was to come, he was sure. But he would be damned before he went down without a fight.

He sounded the order above the clamour of battle: 'Retreat!'
His men broke and ran, fleeing from the xeroxian fury.
Magnus and his troops fled further into the deep recesses of the cramped corridors of the bunker, choosing their battleground.
The gargantuan forms of the aliens were not well-suited to the small size of the hallways, forcing them into a half crouch, limiting their effectiveness.

Magnus stopped mid-run, he needed to buy them time, they couldn't escape like this.
He turned and levelled his pistol at the attacking aliens, determined to gain those few precious seconds his men needed.

His men fled past Magnus, running before the encroaching tide of xeroxians. The general held the line, until all seven of the soldiers were safely inside.
He then followed them, footsteps echoing loudly on the steel floor. As he ran, he could hear the xeroxians behind him, baying for blood, his blood.

He could feel their breath, hot upon his back, could sense their claws growing ever closer.
As he turned a corner, he stumbled and fell, exhaustion catching up with him.
When he hit the floor, it was then he knew he was dead, he had no chance now.
Easing himself up into a sitting position, he spat and drew his pistol. He snarled: 'I'm not going down that easy.'

The xeroxians slowed, savouring the kill, they were just toying with him now. They walked slowly towards him, claws clicking on the steel walkway. He loosed a few shots, felling a couple of the giants.
Their muscles tensed, as if to leap forward. But that leap never came, bullets filled the air, mowing them down like corn.
Magnus looked up, into the smiling eyes of colonel Jameson, hand outstretched.
'Never leave a man behind, eh general?'
Magnus grasped the hand, grinning in return.
'Jameson, if we get out of this alive, I'll see you made general!'
Jameson's smile grew broader as he hauled Magnus to his feet.
'I'll hold you to that sir!'
Magnus drew himself straight.
'colonel?'
'Yes sir?'
'Stay alive, and that's an order'
'Yes sir!'

The xeroxian hordes surged once again into the corridor, limitless numbers threatening to grind them down.
On they ran, the xeroxians breathing down their necks. Soon they would make their stand.

They would stand or they would die.

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