Vosk could hear Kael laughing as he burned yet another shrine, this time catching some mortals in the flames. Vosk normally didn't care what his brothers did to the mortals, but this was wasting time. The Loyalists should have figured out what was going on by now.
What truly stirred him to act was what he saw through his scope—five Crimson Fists headed their way. They were several stories down, but an Astartes could easily close that distance given the right conditions.
Vosk rushed over to Kael and gave a hard smack to his pauldron. "Time to go. Crimson Fists, five of them coming this way."
Kael nodded, and before leaving, grabbed a skull from the burning shrine.
Vosk and Kael got a brief head start, but luck was not on their side. Much to Vosk's annoyance, they were slowed down by the need to kill off the mortals who got in their way—some of the many mortals that Decarion's group had sent fleeing all over the facility. Apparently, one group had gotten right in their path.
Vosk and Kael, not wanting to be delayed, struck any mortal in their way aside. As another mortal was crushed, trampled by the two Night Lords, Vosk felt something strike him hard in the right pauldron. The ceramite cracked, but Vosk knew that just from the force alone, it wasn't fired from an Astartes bolter. No, this was from something else.
And the alternative stood before him, screaming.
"Heretics! You shall be cleansed in the Emperor's holy name! Your taint shall be cleansed from the earth, and your corrupted kind banished from this holy world!"
Vosk and Kael took cover as a barrage of bolter fire ripped down the corridor. A Sisters of Battle squad stood right in the path of where they needed to go.
Kael drew his bolt pistol and returned fire, forcing some to take cover. Those that proved too slow either perished or found themselves thrown to the ground, armor damaged but lives saved. Vosk took the time to take aim at those Sisters who lacked helms, contacting Decarion as he did. From the sounds he heard over the vox, his Sergeant was also running into his own fair share of resistance.
"Decarion, we ran into some trouble. We will be delayed in meeting you at the generator."
Vosk could hear Decarion barking orders to Varik before getting a response. In the meantime, two more Sisters died, and a third barely survived—saved by her helm—only for Kael to finish her off with a burst of flame.
"Understood. Then head to the eastern gate and get it open. It's closest to where you are and has been struggling to hold off the Red Corsairs."
Vosk took the head off another Sister of Battle as he sent a confirmation ping and relayed the plan to Kael.
Varik gunned down three guardsmen in quick succession but was forced to take cover as the Sister leading them fired a surprisingly accurate shot at his head. Marcus could hear her screaming something about vengeance and righteous fury, but he didn't care to listen. Instead, he fired his bolter.
Three shots found their mark. The first struck the Sister's hand, shattering her fingers. The second struck her shoulder, only cracking the armor. The third struck near her gorget—the blast ripped open her throat, blood pouring from the wound. Yet despite the fatal wound, she tried to stand and fight still.
"I must say, if nothing else, these zealots certainly have spirit." Malith laughed at his own joke before finishing the job, ending the Sister's struggle.
"Agreed."
With that, Varik and Malith headed to the control console for the facility's vox tower controls. Malith began fitting explosives while Varik fired on any guardsmen who tried to stop them.
Decarion came crashing through a window from the upper levels in a shower of glass. The floor cracked as he landed. The blood of the defenders covered his armor. In one gauntleted hand was his axe. The other was wrapped around a Sister's throat.
She struggled, clawing at his armor with broken fingers. Her weapon was gone, and all she had was her hate.
But hate couldn't stop Decarion's axe.
The Sister's shredded and torn corpse fell to the floor, cut in two—blood, fragments of armor, and bone. The blood didn't pool like it did in shows. No, it splattered all across the floor and the armor of the Night Lords.
Marcus didn't say anything, just stared at the corpse on the floor, looking at the blank expression on the Sister's face. She had once been filled with so much hate, and yet now there was nothing. All that hatred and faith in the name of a God that didn't care, for a God that didn't even want to be a God. Yet these mortals still worshipped because they were all nothing but children.
Without even thinking, Varik kicked the top half of the corpse away.
Malith complimented the kick, but Varik wasn't listening. As Decarion voxed Vosk and Kael, Marcus looked at all the dead mortals around the room. All of them had been shouting some nonsense about how the Emperor protects, or how they fought for the Emperor.
Ridiculous. None of them had ever seen the Emperor. Varik had seen the Emperor—before the Heresy, during the Great Crusade—heard the decrees and words of their so-called God. Marcus had learned more about the Emperor than any of these zealous fools, and he wasn't some infallible being who could do no wrong. Despite all that power, all that foresight, he still couldn't stop humanity from going to hell.
All of these mortals, all these fools, were just—
"Children."
"Alright, charges are set and ready to go. Let's clear out. I put enough explosives on this thing to bring down this entire room."
At Malith's declaration and warning, Decarion gave a quick nod.
Marcus then heard something coming—something fast, multiple contacts. Yes, he knew that sound!
"Crimson Fists incoming!"
The moment those words left his mouth, he was forced to take cover, just avoiding two bolter rounds that would have struck him directly between his eyes. Instead, they struck his pauldron.
Varik could see Decarion also take cover across from him and return fire alongside Malith, who was closer to the vox tower's primary terminal. Even with all three firing back, it was clear to Varik that the difference in numbers made this exchange unfavorable. But he was also not keen on getting shot to pieces trying to close the distance.
Then he saw the body of a guardsman nearby and had an idea.
Marcus looked back out at the five Crimson Fists firing at them and picked out the closest one.
Yes. This might just work.
Marcus grabbed the leg of the mortal's corpse and hurled it at the nearest Crimson Fist.
The Astartes noticed it and bashed it aside, blood spraying across his helm. The machine spirit of his armor would adjust to allow him to see clearly in but a few brief moments. However, to an Astartes, those moments were a vital divide between life and death.
Bolter rounds slammed into the Crimson Fist's center mass. The first and second rounds cracked the ceramite. The third actually breached the armor. The fourth wounded the Astartes. The fifth only grazed the side of the Loyalist's armor as the son of Dorn fell to the ground.
Before Marcus could do more, he was forced to take cover as another Crimson Fist fired on him. However, this shift in focus gave Malith enough room to throw a grenade at the Crimson Fists, forcing two to move out of cover.
One of the Crimson Fists drew a chainblade and roared an order.
"For Dorn and the Emperor! CHARGE!"
The Night Lords fired on the two charging Crimson Fists but were suppressed by concentrated fire from the remaining two who stayed back. Decarion and Varik, being closest to the exit and the Crimson Fists, were forced to engage in melee against the Loyalists.
The roar of chainblades echoed as they clashed, sparks flying as weapons met, each seeking to slay the enemy before them.
Varik struggled with the Crimson Fist, who just wouldn't shut up!
"Wretched traitor! You will pay for all you have done! I will end your vile desecration here and now!"
Varik took a chance and delivered a swift punch across the faceplate of the Crimson Fist, followed by Marcus trying to strike at the neck. But he was blocked by the chainblade of the Loyalist and forced to give ground as bolter rounds struck his pauldron. The Crimson Fists near the entrance fired at Varik. While none would have been fatal or even enough to breach his armor at these angles, it nearly cost him his arm as a well-placed round left him open long enough for the Crimson Fist before him to strike—just grazing his gauntlet.
Marcus began to give more ground, slowly being pushed back closer to the primary vox terminal. When the two were at the steps leading up to the terminal, Varik struck, redoubling his efforts. He struck with his chainblade in one hand while his other drew back and swung.
The Crimson Fist lifted an arm, having learned from before, even moving to slice at his arm. Only instead of gauntlet upon gauntlet, he felt an entire human body being smashed against him. Blood and bone obscured the Crimson Fist's sight.
Varik struck, grabbing his bolter in his now-free, bloody hand. He fired into the son of Dorn's leg, causing the Loyalist to fall to one knee.
Marcus struck again, this time with his roaring chainblade down onto the Loyalist's head. But the Crimson Fist did not panic and blocked the strike again, straining to do so with the damaged leg.
Varik could hear the sounds of thundering Astartes footsteps approaching at speed. He did not take time to see who it was. Varik brought up his bolter. The Loyalist tried to grab it, but a bolter round struck true into the neck of the Loyalist, taking the Crimson Fist's head clean off. Blood splattered across Varik's armor, but he was already turning back to the battle before the body even hit the floor.
Just in time for the first of the explosives to detonate.
Marcus only had time to say one thing.
"Dammit, Malith!"
Then the tower started to fall.