Hi this is as far as I know the only crossover involving Batman Beyond and Warhammer, so I hope I do both sides justice in this fic. This whole idea popped in my head when my friend Campion Sayn was talking Batman while I had warhammer 40k on the brain. I'd like to apologize for this but the Batman part will not be coming in until chapter two, the children will just have to be patient.
I do not own any part of warhammer or Batman Beyond, and seek no monetary gain, only to respect both sides
Location: Cordatus III
Planetary Hour: 1400 hours
This planet had once been a utopia, where the seasons seemed to only need spring and summer. Trees were green year-long; harvests were collected monthly world-wide, and all the indigenous wildlife had evolved to become herbivores, making it an excellent farm world for the colonists from the Imperium. Cordatus III was truly a wonderful place to live. Poverty levels were nonexistent and to find a corrupt official was among the hardest things to do on Cordatus III….. until fate felt in need of a good laugh.
An Ork fleet under the command of Warboss Skull Spika had once owned that planet and had finally re-earned enough of his power to go back to war once more. Down they fell upon the poor unsuspecting planet in a tide of scrap and fire, landing in their millions and slaughtering everything with a pulse on-sight, Skull Spika at the front with his axe, "Clanky Cleaver". The horror and depravities that followed the first days of invasion were truly terrible. Oh but that was not the end of it, for not only was the planet desired for vengeance, no, it was wanted for an even darker purpose. It's souls.
Not ten minutes before the Ork warships entered the system, another ship, hidden within a field of shadow generated by no natural occurrence had already touched down upon the world's surface in the fringes of a small forest, 20 miles from a nearby sub-hive city and a Mechanicus research facility. The shadows of the night dimmed even more as the ship's shadow-field opened partially, and a landing ramp spat forth to spear the ground with a silent hiss.
Down that ramp walked a monumental figure, he stood at a height 3 feet above the tallest man, garbed in armor as dark and blue as an ocean in the blackest night, his armor was the weight of a small car yet he walked with the powerful grace of a jungle cat, his eyes shone out into the night in crimson light, his face was long and gaunt, his hair as black as pure ebony, the armor he wore was edged in gold, his helm, held in the crook of his arm had the wings of a bat furled to straight points back and forth, the only other decoration was the fanged skull set in his left pauldron, blood-red wings painted to sprout from it's sides. He was given many names, all spreading fear in different parts of the galaxy, Man Hunter, Soul Render, Astartes, Heretic, Destroyer of worlds, but his true name, now and forever more was to be, Sothil, Night Lord.
This world seems rife with life, he thought turning his head from side to side surveying the area. With a fanged grin to put his chapter's symbol to shame he strode onto the land with one thought…. How fun will it be to change that?
Cordatus III during the day was wreathed in blood and fire, the Orks acting as a relentless war machine, of the few bastions holding regiments of the Imperial Guard that were scattered across the world's surface, most were quickly overrun and their inhabitants butchered by the barbaric aliens. Their forces had divided into two fronts, one led by Skull Spika and the other lead by his trusted second, the Weirdboy known as Bone Slima. Either side of the planet was rife with slaughter and conflict in the few areas that Imperial forces still held sway.
When night fell, the music took a turn to a more sinister tune. Entire villages and compounds were wiped out, their bodies left in the streets, ripped apart or left in macabre poses as though they were going through their daily routines. These occurrences were usually found by Bone Slima's Orks, and after every night their findings became more and more frequent. Some of the more curious snotlings found that in one of the villages that the corpses with lasguns hadn't even gotten a shot off before being mutilated. All this really did was frustrate the Orks, they wanted a fight, but all they could find were dead enemies, noting live enough to hit back.
As the evening sun descended over Bone Slima's camp that day, a chill ran through the forest. Sure the many bonfires burned bright and lively, and they had killed a few of the humies with their flash guns, the boys should've been whoop'n and holler'n thought Bone Slima. But even he felt the chill, and with all his brain's might, (which was a lot since it practically burst from his skull every few hours if not used) he didn't know why. He even thought of making a few hundred more stand guard that night. It was only after his brain had just allowed him sleep, which he figured out what caused the chill, and it came in the form of an unearthly chorus of shrieks like a bat out of hell.
Sothil slashed his sword through another of the foul xenos and charged into another, cutting it in twain with ease. The sword surged with energy as it tasted the alien's blood, the daemon, Seelis that was bound within was hungry this night and with every kill its hunger grew, manifesting as a green glow that allowed it to slice through armor and flesh alike with as much effort as cutting had grown bored with killing mere peasants and Guardsmen, he wanted a challenge, something to make him truly let loose upon his foe, if these Orks were up to the task then so be it.
"My Lord!" called captain Herrig over the vox, captain of Sothil's Raptor squads, "these beasts make wonderful prey, we should hunt them more often!" Sothil laughed at this as he gutted another Nob and thought on his captain's words. How like a Slaaneshi to want more with so much already laid out before him.
"Slay your fill old friend," Sothil replied, kicking the corpse from the blade." if you even have one that is." Sothil turned seeking another foe to step forth from the savage, green tide before him when another dark plated form stepped beside him, causing Sothil to flinch inwardly. Damn Sorcerer, he thought, always sneaking about.
The Night Lords had never really allowed themselves to embrace the gods of the Warp. Sothil was considered open minded, letting a few of his warriors to worship singular gods, but like any of the Night Haunter's children, he still had an innate dislike of them. But he wasn't foolish enough to man a ship without at least a little protection from that which he detested, and that protection was Allenes, Sorcerer of the Night Lord ship, Sanguine Blessing.
"Lord Sothil." the psyker said with a bow of his silver plated head. His armor was a little different from the others, it still bore the winged skull of the legion on it's right pauldron, but it writhed with snake-like shadows, from the waist down robes made from daemon skin lapped in the breeze, and his helm was a plain silver mask with only two eyeholes to mark it's surface, and hundreds of little wires flowed back from the mask in a parody of dreadlocks or braided corn rows. Allenes was armed with a curved power sword with the fangs of a Tzeentch screamer embedded along the edge near the tip, a silver staff with a mutant's head at the top, and a gold plated plasma pistol belted at his waist.
"What do you want, Sorcerer?" barked Sothil at the irritant. Sorcerers were to stay at the back; they had no place at the front lines!
"I realize that you are busy my liege." He apologized in that same sepulchral tone he used, "but I felt you should know that there is a much larger threat than these peons." As if to emphasize his point he whipped out his sword to cut an Ork's throat and re-sheathed it in a moment's span without even breaking eye contact with his lord.
Maybe he was useful after all, mused Sothil. "What do you mean, 'larger threat'? I am no Tzeentchian, Sorcerer, do not speak in riddles when you address me!"
Allenes pointed his staff to a nearby hill where a large tent had been set up, colored in the all too familiar checkered colrs of Skull Spika's army. "I detect a strange flow of the aether pulled in that area. I believe the leader of these rag-tag xenos to be hiding there." Allenes shrugged and added, "That and I believe I saw some Nobs head up there with a few Cans."
Sothil mulled this over then called Herrig to meet him near the hill's base, it was unwise to keep tasty tidbits like a skilled enemy to yourself without letting a Slaaneshi get a cut of it for himself first. They always get too moody after finding out.