Hey Baby, wanna see me kill Titans real fast? (40k/Johnny Bravo)

Discussion in 'Creative Writing' started by Gaius Marius, Nov 24, 2013.

  1. Gaius Marius

    Gaius Marius Fluffiest mod Moderator

    Hey Baby, wanna see me kill Titans real fast? (Warhammer 40K/Johnny Bravo/Elements of Girl Genius)

    Chapter 1: Back in the Saddle

    From the empty void between dying worlds and through the nightmare hellscape of the roiling warp, came ships. A battlefleet a hundred strong: super-massive battle groups, cruiser packs, destroyer squadrons and frigate groupings. Black void burned bright with the shock of their guns as the arch-enemy fleet was swept away on an atomic tide of lance beams and ordinance. Behind the warships came transports in their endless multitudes, gorged and bloated behemoths beaten into the shape of vast, space going whales or carved into monstrous, nightmare cathedrals.

    Down from the ships came landers, whales giving birth to an endless swarm of minnows that fell down to Hexile’s surface. Packed within was the iron harvest of a dozen worlds, product of a hundred hives and a thousand forges. Herds of elephantine tanks and wagon trains of fighting vehicles, cathedral orchestras of missile launcher tubes and forest of artillery barrels, along with oceans of volatile promethium fuel and an endless parade of shells, rockets and spare parts to keep the beasts of war moving.

    Above them the sky grew thick with aeronauts and their sky-engines. Heavy bombers, bristling with autocannons and stuffed to the limit with high explosives, droned overhead endlessly, already unleashing their payloads upon the arch enemy that had dared to occupy the planet. Between them and about them were the fast movers, feral looking Lightnings there to sweep the foe from the sky with volleys of las and streams of missiles. Towards the end were the troop carriers, Valkyries bearing picked uints of storm troopers. Last of all were the ground attack craft, awkward with swept wings and pregnant with the bodies of massive rotary cannon.

    Around the tanks and beneath the planes, an endless horde of manflesh moved, as insignificant and numberless as ants. Grenadiers from Krieg marched in endless column, their gas masks blocking out the dirt kicked up by the lumbering assault transports of the Sorax Old Breed. Tankers from Cadia urged their lumbering tanks forwards, kicking up the shit from the Vessican 10th’s hundred thousand horses. Ten million men carried rifles to the fore or loaded cannons all day or were sealed inside an armored chassis or rode within the confines of a gunship, while five times that number labored behind the lines building communication lines, driving trucks or working supply depots.

    It was a war the planet had not seen the likes of in five thousand years, a multi-million man campaign to rid Hexile of an unprecedented infection: a malignant tumor of chaos. Hives would burn in the coming fight, soldiers would die in their millions and civilians in their tens of millions. Siege, carnage and the effects of poison gas would blight the landscape, alongside pestilence and famine. It was one of a thousand wars the Imperium fought everyday, part of its endless struggle to maintain its own hideous existence.

    And all of it, from warship to aerial duel to tank battle, would be overlooked.

    Because Velocitas was here.


    Their Ark blotted out the sun as it arrived in system, its archeotech bulk dwarfing even the Navy’s vast battleships and the custom-built cruisers that escorted its massiveness were massively overgunned for their size. All of the Naval vessels gave them a wide birth, backing away from the Noospheric orders streaming from the Arc. Their engine lights were visible from the observation bays within the Ark Magnum Lignum, even though they were thousands of miles away.

    Bravo watched them, the glow of plasma flickering over the massive black augments he wore instead of eyes. His face, large jawed and flat featured besides the black augmetics, gave away no emotion, presenting a stoic shield to the world. Beneath the plug crested, adamantine helmet that was melded into his skull, thoughts flickered.

    Anyone capable of seeing through the dense metallic covering would have seen the words flickering, ‘Ha-ha, shiny.’

    After that the thoughts stopped flickering for several minutes, far longer than most people could actually go without being legally dead. A tiny cleaning servitor, more of a black robotic disc with a few human brain cells, ran into his foot, a thoughtless force moving into an unmovable, even more thoughtless object. Some of the gigantic muscles stretched across his huge shouldered frame twitched randomly under his black body glove, before locking up as a voice blasted Noospheric orders across the ship.

    ‘Ghosts!’ Bravo screamed, jumping into the air in alarm and almost crushing the cleaning robot as he landed.

    ‘No wait… I can understand that!’ he said, ‘and the ghosts are telling the Princeps of the Heus Peur to report to the war room! I can understand ghosts! And I’m the Princeps of the Heus Peur! I have a Titan! Babes love Titans!’

    His mindless trot just as unstoppable as his Titan’s, Bravo ran through the ship, galloping past gaggles of sinister robed tech-priests and slow moving servitors in his rush. One pair of tech priests was knocked down a three mile deep stair well, where their inbred descendants formed a thriving sub-deck community. An ancient explorator carrying a set of STC blue prints worth more than most planets was kicked down the elevator shaft. Less than a hundred meters from the war room, Bravo simply ran down a hulking Servitor, crushing its 200Kg mass beneath his boots.

    ‘Woah, MOMMA!’ Bravo yelled, all forward momentum somehow ceasing instantaneously as he saw a female form with luxuriant red hair near the war room’s doors. The Princeps sprang forwards, striking half a dozen Olympian poses in less than a second before landing next to his startled target.

    ‘Hey there little half-machine beauty,’ the Princeps said, sliding up close to the young woman in Legio Velocitas colors, ‘why don’t we go back to my place and I can show you my non-standard template constructor?’

    ‘What the hell…,’ she began before recognition suddenly dawned on her, ‘Princeps Bravo?’

    ‘The one, the only…me,’ he confirmed, striking another pose.

    ‘But how… its impossible for you…’

    ‘To be this pretty? I know, sometimes even I can’t believe it!’

    ‘You’ll need to come inside,’ she said, gingerly taking one of his hulking arms and opening the war room’s doors.

    Inside was a massive table, one solid chunk hewn from the trunk of some monolithic tree. A thousand servitor hours had been spent polishing it to a mirror finish, but still the weight of age hung heavy about its pitted surface. There was the gaping scar where eight centuries before Legion Executor Vobanks had revealed the First Princeps Omega as a traitor, before nailing him to the table with a power sword. Nearby was the plasma burn where Princeps Maximus Ilenheintz had killed himself with a grenade in his shame over the defeat at Forge Hierexus to the Traitor Dire Wolves Legion. Overlapping it was the blood stain where Ilenheintz successor Wolfenbach had avenged him, ceremonially executing ten captured Dire Wolves Princeps with a chain sword a year later.

    Wolfenbach was still standing there, his face covered in scars, his grey hair studded with data ports. For the moment he was saying nothing, like every other face his was turned to gape at Bravo in astonishment, a dozen holographic projectors and map displays forgotten.

    ‘Aww, is my fly open again?’ asked Bravo, quickly checking his pants (which did not in fact have a fly) as thirty pairs of mostly augmetic eyes stared at him.

    ‘Everyone who is not Princeps Bravo, please leave this room immediately,’ Wolfenbach said, ‘Famulous Dane, please wait outside.’

    Thirty Princeps slowly got to their feet, filing out through the double doors. Several of them stared at Bravo in blank wonderment, while the Princeps of the Divinatus Monstorum clapped him on the shoulder as he passed. Finally only Bravo and Wolfenbach were left, had Bravo had the wits to notice, he would have seen the Princeps Maximus’ hand was on the hilt of his ornate chain blade.

    ‘Bravo, how is it that you are alive?’

    ‘Well, I’m pretty sure that it happens when a momma tech priest and a daddy tech priest…’

    ‘No, not like that,’ snapped Wolfenbach, ‘you were brain dead Bravo. A trepanned corpse with a beating heart, a vegetable.’

    ‘Hey, I am not a garden hose!’

    ‘Yet you are alive and standing before me,’ mused the Princeps Maximus, ‘when our best biologis had said your mind was gone, wiped clean by the Arch-Enemy Psy-Titan. Even our Astropaths claimed that your soul was obliterated. Are you really Bravo, do you remember?’

    ‘Well, I remember a bad smell, then a bright light and some jerk hit me in the ass. Then I think there were breasts.’

    There was a blade at Bravo’s throat, the hereditary chainblade of the Legion Commander. It purred softly, the fresh blades gleaming new against the ancient, battered frame.

    ‘Prove it to me,’ said Wolfenbach, gloved hand on the blade’s trigger, ‘prove you’re still you. Tell me something only Bravo could know.’

    ‘Uh..umm… the main component in mess hall chilly is hair tonic!’

    The blade revved.

    ‘Uhh… the coolant in a Titan’s cockpit lines can be brewed into raw alcohol using only a cigarette lighter and a tin can!’

    It revved louder.

    ‘The best way to get to the reactor chamber of a Mars Pattern Warlord Titan is by overloading the shields on its left leg with a Delta-type burst of mega-bolter shells and turbo lasers, forcing the shields into a morphic energy transfer that weakens the upper torso voids by eight percent for approximately point four seconds!’

    ‘That will work.’


    An hour later…

    So vast was the ship that even Bravo’s frantic pace took many minutes to reach the crane-ship hangers, located far from the war room’s gloomy depths. Deep inside the Ark’s steel guts waited the geodesic crane ships, over a dozen of the vast spheres and each bearing a God-Engine inside it. Even Bravo’s ogryn-like form was dwarfed as he ran into the gigantic ship that bore his Titan, its gigantic bay doors thirty times a man’s height.

    Heus Peur stood lashed and bound to the inside of the ship, scores of cables thicker than a man holding it fast. Nearly two hundred feet of adamantine skeleton wrapped with thick plates of ceramite armor, arms heavy with the city-bursting fire power of a Volcanno cannon and a crackling power fist larger than a Baneblade super heavy. Gigantic shoulders were stooped by the brute weight of a turbo laser array and the vast barrels of a Gatling blaster. A massive flight of iron stairs brought him to the Titan’s cranium, a mirror of Bravo’s own crested skull.

    ‘Worry not, my brave and noble crew!’ shouted Bravo as he leapt onto the command chair, ‘I, your captain have arrived!’

    Magos Carlman stopped looking over valves and dials at the back of the cockpit. Steersman Abatross dropped the rag he had been cleaning the thick banks of instruments with, while Moderattii Vilgan dropped the industrial grade horse tranquilizers he had busy stocking the medical cabinet with. There was not a single scrap of noise inside the God-Machine’s head.

    ‘Why y’all looking at me like that?’ asked Bravo, ‘Is my fly undone again? Do I have one of those?’

    ‘Princeps Bravo…’ the Moderattii began, marveling at the dead man standing before him.

    ‘Oh is this about the whole brain dead thing again? Look, I told the Legion Master that wouldn’t slow me down! Johnny don’t need no brain to look this good! Now, scrub down the poop deck and raise up the main sail! I want us ready to repel boarders as we sail down the Spanish Main! Let us take a royal galleon and make ourselves rich!’

    Famulous Dane entered the hatchway, to the evident relief of the crew.

    ‘Follow the Princeps’ orders,’ she said tiredly, ‘for the moment, Princeps Bravo is back in command.’
  2. windlich

    windlich Still not on fire

    I know exactly what I just read, and yet I also have no idea what I just read.

    I now need more to reconcile these two facts.
  3. Frog With Leaf

    Frog With Leaf Fancy Witch Lady

    This is potentially hilarious. MORE.
  4. The real question is: Was Princeps Bravo retarded before the psyker attack as well, or is this new for him?
  5. Trivia Freak

    Trivia Freak Geeky Lunatic!

  6. Zap Rowsdower

    Zap Rowsdower Ex-Cultist Vagrant

    Most worrying is that in the show, Johnny seemed as lucky with nonhuman women as he was hopeless with human women, although he never reciprocates for said nonhuman women.

    In the 40k verse, where the xeno is something to be hated and feared, this has interesting tactical implications.
  7. Sir Bill

    Sir Bill Situation... Not Quite Normal

    I approve of this... whatever thisness is.
  8. krinsbez

    krinsbez A New Hope Burns Bright Super Awesome Happy Fun Time


    And again, HA!:D
  9. Xeno Major

    Xeno Major Sensei Rower Amicus

  10. Pharohman777

    Pharohman777 Planeswalker

    OH GOD.

    Female Tau, Eldar, and Necron that were female before getting made into metal beings will all be attracted to him.
    I have no idea about Tyranids or Orks however.
  11. Yzarc

    Yzarc The Spark of madness

    Only a twisted and demented mind could think up something like this. Good one m8.
  12. wkz

    wkz Probably on the other side of the world from you

    Zonethrope, standing on the ashes of Johnny's latest replacement Titan: <You are cordially invited into Behemoth's primary Norn Queen...>

    Johnny: woah! I hear voices in my head, not Titan voice-type voice, not that it's bad, because that's also awesome. But 'creepy bug race' voice-type voices in my... Wait, "Into"? "Queen"? Well, hello my good man... bug, you are now my favoritest wingm... wingbug. Ever.

    Edit: *later. Much later*

    Wolfenbach: Good! Keep transmitting!!! Sector fleet Mantra, we have confirmed weapons lock on that ball of tentacles, OPEN FIRE!!
  13. Spartan303

    Spartan303 In Captain America We Trust! Moderator

    What the fuck did I just read!:confused:....

    ....And why am I laughing this hard!!!?:p:D
  14. SirLagginton

    SirLagginton 100% Brobot

    ...You actually did it.

    You Magnificent Bastard, you actually did it.

    I'm going to be playing the sane man again aren't I?
  15. luckybreak91

    luckybreak91 King Arthur

    I know exactly what I just read and at the same time I have no idea what I just read.

    Please fix this.
  16. You know that feeling of stretching out a cramp? Its incredibly painful, but also satisfying?

    That's EXACTLY how I feel right now.
  17. Johnny bravo is a Princieps.

    This must be answered!
  18. This is slightly less cracky than Commissar Johnny Bravo.
  19. Tiresias

    Tiresias Pendekar 212

    My childhood! It just got prettier!
  20. Yzarc

    Yzarc The Spark of madness

    ...link please.
  21. Forgetful

    Forgetful Nuka Chemist

    Genius retard Princeps.
  22. I think the only human woman he was ever really sucessful with was Velma, though that is technically non-canon and was a joke done by CN.
  23. tryglaw

    tryglaw Head Polizzian Dragon ;)

    Well hot damn, this has got to be one of the most creative and unconventional fic ideas this board has seen.
    Do keep the good stuff coming, good sir. :)
  24. tryglaw

    tryglaw Head Polizzian Dragon ;)

    Yes, very much link please.