It's not worth it. Hide, then face whatever remains of this world.

You think for a moment. Then another. Then another. The roar of the engine grows louder, and it becomes clear that it's a Chimera that approaches. It dawns on you what happens to cowards in the Imperium. Granted, you're technically not a coward, but Commissar's aren't exactly known for being very forgiving, even to those with a very reasonable-in your humble opinion-excuse. That in mind, you come to a conclusion. 'Nope. Not risking it.' After all, it's entirely likely that even if the vehicle is both friendly and doesn't contain members of your regiment, it'll just contain some other trigger-happy group of fanatical warriors. The Imperium tends to have a lot of those, now that you think of it...

You shift further into the rubble, effectively burying yourself enough that the Chimera's on-board equipment won't detect you. It's doubtful, but you're not exactly in an ideal situation to begin with. It occurs to you that if you _were _found, your chances of making it out alive would be reduced from 'technically possible, if ridiculously unlikely' to 'would you like tea with your firing squad?'. You rather would like some tea, especially right about now, but that's besides the point.

Your heart beats in your chest loudly enough that you could swear they could be heard from wherever the front lines are. Ba-dump. The vehicle grows closer, the pulverized buildings serving as makeshift gravel for the vehicle to drive on, audibly crunching under its treads. Ba-dump. Closer still, enough that you can see the markings of your regiment on the side and the bristling array of armaments that adorn its chassis. Ba-dump. You can smell the exhaust, feel a tiny trickle of kicked-up dirt land on your hiding spot and/or grave. Ba-dump. The vehicle... passes by,

You wait for a minute. Then two. Only once the vehicle has gone over the horizon and fades from view do you dare to move. Your muscles, already weakened from the prolonged nap that the poorly placed rubble had sent you into, scream in protest, but you can't help but laugh as you sprawl out onto your back. You're alive. They're gone. You're safe- Actually, that one would be a lie. You're definitely not safe, and you're still technically on a battlefield. That in mind, you painfully make your way up, ignoring the feeling of pins and needles and the harsh pounding in your head.

'I swear, if I make it out of this, I could out-drink a Fenrisian.' The Fenrisians are known for their ridiculously strong Fenrisian Ale, as well as their Space Marine chapter. It's generally a highly disputed topic among guardsmen as to which of the two is the more important-though not within earshot of their superiors, of course. Pushing thoughts of replacing most of your blood with aside, you start to walk. You stumble, at first, but your brain slowly remembers what it's like to walk properly again. It rather likes knowing this, and resolves to make sure it doesn't lose the information again the next time you're knocked by flying debris. It's not likely to succeed, but... well, a brain can dream.

It takes hours-during which you entertain yourself by rambling angrily about the situation-before you're finally somewhere not surrounded by debris and bodies. Honestly, it's a rather short trip by the standard of the time, so you must have been brought down during a minor skirmish. It usually takes days before you aren't constantly stepping on corpses. For a moment you feel a pang of disappointment that you weren't brought down in something more major, but then you remember that you're alive. That somehow makes it feel a bit better.

Making your way up a barren hill, you look up. 'Oh.' A figure stands at the top of the hill, looking down at you. You can't quite make it out in the darkness, but you stay cautiously optimistic. After all, you just made it out out of a warzone, and in more pieces than the vast majority of guardsmen-who often end up more resembling ground been than people. You squint up, trying to get a glimpse of the figure and pausing in your advance.