Commissar Yarrick Goes To Taco Bell

Hungry Guardsmen

Corporal Jenkins poked his head out of the top of the Baneblade. The young Cadian briefly surveyed the landscape through his binoculars. The battlefield was beautiful on fire; the wreckage of a thousand Leman Russ battle tanks and probably thousands more of the dirty, dirty Xenos scum's own vehicles. The final, uncharacteristic silence that settled across the war-torn hellscape clued Jenkins in to a wonderful new truth. The Cadians' bloody skirmish with the Tau was over. 

Jenkins jumped back down into the Baneblade, looking around at his four compatriots, all equally fresh-faced Imperial Guardsmen who weren't expected to survive their first combat deployment, as is common for guardsmen. In a universe where literally everything wants to kill you and there are demons, orks, and blue communists with mechsuits running around, it was hard to believe that an army of ordinary men and women with rifles and flak jackets even stood a fighting chance. Jenkins guessed this was why the glorious God Emperor of Mankind created his perfect little army of Ultrasmurfs...uh, I mean Space Marines. 

"Good news, boys. Looks like the Xenos are gone." Jenkins said, his voice alight with courage and relief that the group had survived another day in the 41st Millennium. 

"Does that mean we win? C-can we go home?" Private Roberts, Jenkins' best friend, asked warily. 

"Dunno. We'd have to ask Yarrick. He's the one running this shitshow." Jenkins answered, unsure. 

"Yarrick? Isn't that that one Commissar who killed a buttload of orks on Armageddon or something?" Private Davies asked. 

"The very same. He's a real hero. Truly, if he was any better, he'd be an Astartes." 

Jenkins waved to the Baneblade crew's Vox operator, Private Pyle, trying to get his attention. 

"Pyle! Get a hold of Yarrick! Ask him if the battle's over!" 

"Yes sir!" Pyle said as he dialled in Yarrick's frequency on the Vox unit. 

Meanwhile, at the other end of the battlefield, Commissar Sebastian Yarrick, the hero of Armageddon, was sitting around next to his personal Chimera transport. Having just strangled a Tau Ethereal with 10 feet of his own intestines, Yarrick was now enjoying a brief smoke break with his command squad. Currently, the Tau had stopped sending giant robots the size of two Space Marines stacked on top of each other and wearing a trenchcoat at them. Perhaps this was a sign that the fighting was over. The Tau weren't completely bonkers like the orks, or as bloodthirsty as the tyranids, or as edgy as the Dark Eldar: maybe they were retreating? 

Just then, the communications officer's Vox rang. 

"What in the name of sweet merciful Rowboat Gorillaman is that? Get this fucker on the Vox right now, Guardsman! And it better not be that one ork who kept asking if our fridge was running!" Yarrick ordered. 

The communications officer fumbled about with the Vox set, picking it up in hurried panic. Commissars were probably one step behind clowns and one step ahead of genestealers in terms of scariness, and the officer didn't want to get shot for not picking up the Vox fast enough. 

Surprisingly, the voice on the other end was not a crank calling ork, but in fact a Guardsman calling from the other side of the warzone. 

"Hello? Can you hear me? This is Corporal Jenkins of the Cadian Shock Troops! Is Commissar Yarrick there?" 

Yarrick dropped his cigar, dashed over and stole the Vox receiver right out of the communications officer's hand. 

"This is Yarrick! What the Immaterium is it?" Yarrick bellowed. 

"Oh! Hello, sir! I was just wondering where the enemy's gone. Have they retreated?" 

"I think so, Jenkins. As usual, no xeno is any match for good old Imperial firepower. Why? You thinking about running? Because I will have you know that if I catch any one of you spineless dumbfucks deserting, I will personally rip off one of your limbs and forcefully shove excrement down your newly created orifice! Do I make myself clear, Jenkins?" 

"Yes sir." Jenkins yelped, nervous. "I'm curious as to what we're going to do now that the enemy has turned tail. Do we go home?" 

"We do not go home until I say we go home, Emperor dammit! Holy fucking Horus, I've seen better fighting spirit in a Sister of Battle with a twisted ankle! Emperor fucking dammit!" 

"Alright, alright, just take it easy man--" 

"DO NOT TELL ME TO TAKE IT EASY, YOU GUTLESS PANSY! I'LL TAKE IT EASY WHENEVER THE FUCKING FUCK I WANT, IF I MY NAME ISN'T COMMISSAR SEBASTIAN 'IF THEY'RE GREEN, KICK 'EM IN THE SPLEEN' YARRICK!" 

"...Do orks even have spleens, sir?" 

"I dunno! Why don't you get yourself a good ol' chainsword and find out?" 

"Uh, maybe later. So what are our orders, sir?" 

Yarrick looked around at the other members of his command squad. His advisors shrugged in confusion. However, the weapons expert, Dillon, a craggy one-eyed veteran with a shotgun and chainsword, seemed to have an idea. 

"Boss, there's a Taco Bell not far from here." 

"TACO BELL? What the hell are you smoking, Sergeant Dillon? This is no time for thoughts of Mexican food! The only food we're gonna have are blood sausages made from Tau guts!" 

"Sir, while Tau blood sausage does sound like exquisite cuisine, I'm thinking we're gonna pass. Plus, I think tacos are just what we need to raise morale, right guys?" Dillon asked. 

The other members of Yarrick's command squad, as well as Jenkins' squad over the vox, erupted into unanimous agreement. In response, Yarrick took his massive power claw and did a facepalm. 

"Well, goddamn. I would shoot you all for heresy right this instant, were it not for the fact that second only to the blood of my enemies, tacos are my favourite food!" 

"So is that a yes?" Dillon asked. 

"Yeah, whatever, you killed like a dozen stupid weeaboo space commies back there so I'll allow us this small mercy. But if I catch any of you using this as an opportunity to run away, I will shove this claw straight up your ass!" 

Fearing that a slight misstep would land them a power claw prostate exam, the crews of the two tanks silently turned their vehicles to the direction of the Taco Bell and headed out, unaware of what awaited them at the restaurant...

I'll give you a hint: all the heresy.