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Day 36, Continued

The Callidus' form quickly departs the chamber, no longer taking a more measured pace and indulging in her true swiftness, little more than a black blur to a human's eyes. Fortunate, then, that it is not a human's eyes that track her.

Like the chittering of a forest in summer, tiny legs click and small wings beat as a swarm of hundreds of insects pour out of the pod, their small forms taking flight. These were large, perhaps the size of fists with wings nearly as long as a forearm, and specially crafted for the sole purpose of tracking and following this unique foe.

With a nigh inaudible buzz, easily cloaked by the clang of machinery, the swarm departed the chamber in pursuit.

Cass had forced Brunt to sit down for a few hours now. The hangar bay was as good a place as any for a stop. That was what she had told him and he'd been too exhausted to argue. Too pained by his arm.

She grit her teeth at the sight of his arm as she changed his makeshift bandages. It had swollen, becoming a puffy, bright red and the wound itself was leaking a yellow fluid she didn't recognize. The sleeve she'd used to wrap his arm had almost soaked through with the stuff. She replaced it with one of her own, but she wasn't sure that was going to do much.

It was spreading, she knew that much. It had swelled a lot in the last day, even as Brunt as gotten weaker and weaker. As it was, neither of them was going to get out of here. He'd only get worse from the infection and she… Well, between her bouts of nausea and city filled with monsters and, from what explosions she'd seen, an active war, she wasn't sure she'd be able to get them both out… Though, who knew what 'out' even meant. Out of the spires? Of the hive?

She looked down at her stomach, which had yet to show any signs of the child growing inside it. "You really showed up at the worse time, you know that?"

"Huh?" Brunt's voice was slurred with exhaustion, his head lolling over to look at her with half-dazed confusion.

"Don't worry about it," She said, shaking her head. He was leaned up against one of the hangar doors. She sat next to him, on his good side, resting her head on his shoulder. They hadn't had many chances to just… rest, she realized.

Almost unbidden, her gaze drifted down to the last weapon they had between them, an autogun. It had less than four shots left and they had no spare ammunition for it.

If… If there really was no chance for them to escape… Would it be better?

The priests said the God-Emperor embraced the faithful after death, while the rest were tormented in eternal damnation for their sins. Neither Cass or Brunt were faithful.

The priests had also said that both she and Brunt were creatures of darkness and evil. She didn't think that was true, so the priests could probably be wrong. Maybe they were wrong about what happened after death?

Her hand ran over the autogun. Two quick shots… But then what?

Her hands wrapped around the grip. The weapon was light enough that she could hold it up with one hand. She didn't aim it, just studied it. Her eyes ran over the grooves, the cuts, the small patches of rust and grease. The trigger.

Two quick shots…

Brunt's good hand reached out and grasped Cass by the wrist, surprising her not only with the action, but the strength he still had. He looked at her, a hint of clarity cutting through the exhaustion in his eyes, and shook his head.

The clarity faded and his grip weakened. His hand fell away and he leaned back, panting hard as some new pain reasserted itself in the forefront of his mind. Cass was about to set the gun aside… when the doors they'd come through opened and Death stepped inside.

Death was tall, taller than either Cass or Brunt, and clad in a skintight suit made of a glossy black material. Red hair was tied back in a braid that fell past her waist and it reminded Cass of the whips some of the mobs that had once chased her had sometimes carried. She held in her hand a strange device, made of gold and wreathed in some strange light that flickered and died as the woman turned to look at them. On the same arm, she had a wrist-mounted sword that glowed an unnatural green.

Red eyes turned to stare at Cass, transfixing her with their glare. A shiver crawled along her spine and made her throat tighten. It was only the presence of Brunt that kept her from curling up into a ball at the sight of her own Death.

Raising her autogun, Cass fired off a shot, but it went wide. Death did not flinch. She just started walking, slowly, weapons down at her sides. Cass fired another shot, this one much closer, but still no reaction.

A third shot fired and this one zipped right past Death's neck. There wasn't so much as a twitch in reply. She kept coming.

The fourth shot flew true, aimed right between the eyes of Death. Yet, with preternatural swiftness, Death simply tilted her head, and the shot flew past without so much as scratching her.

Cass' gun arm fell down and she leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes as she took comfort in her last moments with Brunt, preparing for the killing blow.

But it never came. She heard the footsteps of Death halt in front of her, yet no sword ripped through her flesh, no gunshot pierced or burned her. Opening her eyes, Cass looked up and saw that Death had crouched in front of her.

"Please come with me, ma'am," Death said in a voice that seemed unaccustomed to politeness. "I am here to help."

The Callidus didn't really feel emotions anymore, not enough that they might interfere with her missions, but she still could find satisfaction in securing her quarry. Whether that was to kill them, as was often the case, or to capture them, as she was more rarely ordered to do. Yet, never in her three centuries as an assassin had she ever been told to treat a capture target with the utmost civility and to ensure no harm befell her through action or inaction. And not just physical harm, as had been impressed upon the Callidus repeatedly, but spiritual as well. Even small things, like causing her discomfort.

This was a very strange mission for her. For all of them.

She could see the confusion and mistrust in the eyes of the blank in front of her, even as she shifted slightly in front of her companion. The Callidus could have used another form, but that interaction would likely have had no benefit given these two seemed to be the sort that only trusted one another. It may have even been worse, since they had most likely led lives in fear of the faces of other humans.

Speaking of the man… He was not necessary, but the Callidus suspected the target would object to leaving him here. Killing him to remove him as a factor would likely damage the spiritual wellbeing of the woman, so that was not acceptable. There was also the fact that he was wounded, which was clearly causing the target distress…

"We can provide medical treatment to him," The Callidus said, nodding towards the only semi-conscious blank. "As well as to you. You just need to come with us."

Traces of desperation and hope crossed the target's face, but also suspicion. "Who… who are you?" She said, after managing to swallow her fear.

"My name is Sulla," The Callidus lied. "I was sent to help."

"… Why help us?" The target asked, even more suspicion in her voice.

"I can explain everything once we're safe," The Callidus lied again "I'm going to call down a landing craft with a few of my associates. I swear in the name of the God-Emperor we will protect you with our lives."

That last part was the truth, at least in the case of the target. The man's life was not so highly valued.

The target looked uncertain, but glanced at the man, who seemed entirely unaware of the Callidus' presence, occupied with trying to stay even partially concious. Her face softened and the Callidus knew she had her.

"Alright," she nodded. "I'm… Cass."

The Callidus didn't particularly care but nodded anyways. She thought about using the polymorphine to allow her masked face to smile, but decided that might be more disturbing than comforting for the woman in front of her. The assassin rose, just as the Vindicare's voice crackled through her personal vox, unheard by any but her.

"The Malum PDF is sending around a thousand troops your way."

"We're in a hangar, can you reach us in time?" Her response was equally as inaudible to the two blanks.

"We're a minute out, but if they come to the surface they'll have a line of sight on us while we extract."

"Plan?"

"Dropping him now."

Tide watches as the newest pod he's built, this one made entirely of biomass, slipped out of reality and off towards its target. He'd preferred to use metal tubes before, as those being seen by an enemy could at least be assumed to be some technological form of teleportation. Bilogical pods, mostly made of a chitnous material he'd gotten from genestealers, were also weaker in terms of durability. However, the presence of, at minimum, two assassins meant he needed more versatility. His mask was going to have to slip, at least a little.

Hence why his Spartan was using such a pod as the Neural Transit was readied. However, the Spartan was not the only one about to be slipped out of reality. If he'd sent the Spartan alone, the Vindicare would have taken care of him easily enough from afar with that overpowered rifle of his. Hence why he needed to deal with the Valkyrie that auguries told him was rapidly descending towards the hive spires of Whiro, where the Callidus and, based off the sense of his insect trackers, two other humans were present. He could only hope they weren't also assassins.

Two already seemed like overkill for… whatever reason they had for coming here. Catherine Ellen didn't know why they were present either, only figuring out the Vindicare was there after the assassin had saved her, either purposefully or by chance, from the Ork Warboss. If anyone should have know why, it would have been her.

Which meant there could be more, but that would just be insane. Sure, Monstrum had a lot going on. Between the Orks, the Chaos uprising, and the genestealer cults he could certainly see a single assassin being deployed, maybe even two if one pushed it. But anymore would be…

Shit, was he the reason for them being here? That couldn't be it, right? He'd gotten here a little over a month ago, or at least only woken up then. It took years and years to deploy an assassin, didn't it? There was no way anyone had foreseen his coming, right?

He really needed to learn more about psychic powers and their limits. Purilla's experience was useful for that, but she was a specialist for reading minds and souls, not a seer.

Regardless, his countermeasures for both the assassins had just been sent off. With any luck, they would be able to last for his main force, around a thousand puppet soldiers, to reach the Callidus and whoever she was with.

Following a similar path as the one the Callidus had taken, thousands of boots stomped against rockrete as they sprinted forwards with a speed that humans could not possibly have reached. And then…

Tide watched as an object dropped from the Valkyrie, a small pod. Auguries swiftly scanned the device, as he was afraid at first it was a bomb, but he was relieved to see there was only a small, if relatively powerful, chemical mix contained within it. Oddly large for such a weak explosi-

Wait a minute.

What few aerial defense weapons he had, he opened fire on the pod, but it was too late. The drop pod landed, crashing through the first layers of rockrete with just enough force that it came to a stop just in front of his PDF forces, which skidded to a halt a few meters away.

The doors of the drop pod exploded open, smoke obscuring its sole occupant, the source of the chemical signature. Claws wreathed in lightning crackled in the billowing, grey clouds and a soft growling filled the corridor.

The Eversor Assassin stepped free and into the light, a look of mad glee in its grinning skull mask.

Shit.

Far below him, the Eversor leapt into action. Perhaps it was wasteful to use him on what was essentially a distraction and a one-way trip… But the mission came first.

Suddenly, there was a flash of light that confused the auspexes in his rifle and the Vindicare's head snapped up to look out. Shedding strands of strange light that was of a color he couldn't quite place yet seemed vaguely purple, a pair of Lightning fighter craft, a common Imperial Guard air superiority pattern, had appeared as if from nowhere. Their engines roared to life, just in time for his auspexes to regain their senses and notify him of their presence. The wing-mounted lascannons of the Lightnings glowed hot with the energy building inside them.

"Hold on."

That was the only warning from the pilot that he got before the Valkyrie took a sudden dive at top speed. If the Vindicare were anything besides what he was, the sudden acceleration would have killed him in an instant. His harness strained against the wing, barely enough to keep him from having his spine snapped in two, augmetics or no. Several of his ribs cracked where the straps constricted his chest. Even over the roar of engines he could hear the steel fiber of the harness rip, just a bit, from the force of the sudden movement, and he knew it wouldn't be able to take another movement like that. Neither would he.

One of his hands left his rifle, which remained locked in a death grip with his other hand, and undid the harness, releasing it in a moment. He was horizontal, so he began to fall forward, but sheer strength allowed him to pull himself into a crouch instead. His free hand slammed against the hull with enough force to rattle his bones, even as he sent mental commands through neural links to the machine spirit of his suit, magnetizing his hand to the hull in an instant. He kept his rifle tight to himself.

"Where'd they come from?" He asked, not a hint of anything but pure calm in his voice.

"Teleported in," Came the raspy voice that would have made some humans shiver in terror just from hearing it. It was equally as calm, even as the pilot flew the Valkyrie with the skill of an ace of aces, dipping and diving about like a bird, avoiding the lasfire of the pursuing Lightnings. In spite of his internal augmentations, the Vindicare found he was growing nauseous an almost novel feeling. "Don't know how."

With all the sudden changes in direction and acceleration, even the Vindicare couldn't have made a shot with only one arm free to aim his rifle. Had this been the enemy's intent, to keep him from assisting the assassins on the ground? If so, it was a poor plan.

Neither of them would need him.

The Callidus watched as the Valkyrie began to draw closer… Only for a blinding flash of light to suddenly cross the sky, masking the teleportation of two fighter craft into the air that immediately engaged in a dogfight with the Valkyrie, which began to duck and weave, doing the best that it could to evade its hunters.

"What's happening?" The target, Cass, asked, struggling to keep Brunt from slipping off her shoulder. "Are those… things with your friends?"

"My associates will be fine," The Callidus replied. She wasn't as sure as she sounded though. The Valkyrie wasn't a lander, not an air superiority craft like the Lightnings were. The pilot was skilled, but the craft had limitations.

Another thought occurred. Without the shuttle and the Vindicare, and with the Eversor engaged on the ground with the PDF, far away from her, she was effectively operating on her own.

Which was probably the intention.

The Callidus whipped around, just as a shift of air buffeted against her. Landing with the sound of a loud clacking sound, an egg-shaped object roughly the size of a battle tank dropped onto the hangar floor, shedding the same off-purple light as the pod of black-armored troopers and the Lightnings had. However, where those had been metal, this was made of a dark black chitin. A few grooves in the egg's shell ran up its sides.

"What is that?" Cass asked, her fear no longer on the Callidus. "Sulla?"

"Hide yourself," The Callidus ordered. The egg gave off a loud craaack sound as the shell seemed to shudder as some internal locks, if such a term could even be used on something so obviously organic, released. Upper sections of the egg opened, like the blooming of some mutated flower, revealing a fleshy interior that seemed very much alive.

Standing within that interior is a being that almost appears made of some kind of black, flesh-like skin. However, under that skin, she sees the familiar shape of power armor. It is vaguely reminiscent of the black carapace armor of the not-soldiers she'd fought earlier. The armor was covered by something that seemed almost alive. Another layer of protection? Perhaps flame resistant? The membrane is a deep black, a match for the Callidus' own suit. However, even its visor seems to be covered.

It does not seem obviously armed, but the being reaches towards the small of its back and draws out a strange looking device. At first, she thinks it a bomb of some sort. Only when it activates, does the Callidus recognize it.

Twin plasma blades burn to life, like the claws of some beast pointed in the same direction, a small gap between them. Perhaps it is of xenos make or simply an unusual design, but the Callidus recognizes the Sollex-Aegis energy blade for what it is.

Her phase sword emerges from its gauntlet. She gives no salute in response to the one given by the warrior before her

Day 36, Continued

The Eversor tore forwards like a lightning strike, weaving itself through the hail of autogun rounds that filled the air around it as the PDF opened fired. It took only a moment before it reached the first of its newest victims.

It ripped into them like a feral beast, a whirlwind of claws that crackled with energy as it performed its bloody work. The puppets leapt at it with combat knives and bayonets, moving far faster than a human body was capable of. It didn't make an iota of difference. They may as well have been throwing themselves into a meat grinder.

The Eversor roared and laughed madly as it butchered ceaselessly. Eight seconds passed and nearly twenty puppets were strewn across the corridor, their innards painting the walls red. More PDF rushed forwards, but every new wave fell in rapid succession as the Eversor worked its way through an endless horde.

There were flashes of light behind it and more victims emerged into the corridor. These were larger, stronger, and utterly inhuman. They were hulking brutes with long claws extending from a palm that glowed blue with internal plasma weaponry. White-hot flame filled the corridor, but the Eversor had already leapt out of the way, beheading another three puppets in the same motion. The plasma bursts collided with puppets, incinerating another rank of bioforms that was just as quickly replaced.

The brutes roared and rushed forwards, ceramite-tearing claws gleaming in the light of their plasma weapons. The Eversor matched their roar with a cry of glee as it rushed forward, its own claws igniting with lightning.

The Vindicare was secure in his belief that the machine spirits of his suit would not fail, that his magnetically sealed boots and glove would remain unfaltering in their duty of keeping him connected to the hull of the Valkyrie. The same could not be said for his faith in the lander's own capabilities, which were already being pushed to their limitations by the dogfight the pair of Lightnings were putting it through.

The fighter craft were like annoying gnats, if heavily armed ones. No matter how the Valkyrie maneuvered through the sky, ducking, diving, ascending, flipping, even cutting its engines temporarily in an attempt to get behind its pursuers, the fighters matched it in maneuvering and exceeded it. The pilots of the fighters did not seem as skilled as the pilot of Valkyrie, of course, but they didn't need to be. The lander was slower and bulkier, not suited for this kind of fast paced combat. Already, he could hear the whine of the craft's engines, the protest of the metal hull. They hadn't been hit yet, a testament to the skill of their pilot, but even a single shot could end them, as the Vindicare knew well.

This couldn't go on, yet the Vindicare was powerless to change anything. That is what a lesser mind would have assumed and they would have been wrong.

"Flip onto the side," The Vindicare voxed the pilot, as the pair of Lightnings pulled in behind them once more after another brilliant turn that took full advantage of the lander's hovering abilities.

The pilot needed no further information, no explanation of the plan, they simply did it. There was a lurching as the Valkyrie wrenched itself about so one of its wings was pointed towards the ground, the other towards the sky. In the same motion, the pilot put them on a near ninety degree turn that would have scrambled the brains of anyone without the augments of an assassin.

In that moment, the Vindicare seemed as though they were simply crouched on the ground. With every ounce of swiftness that one of the most efficient killers in the galaxy could muster, his hand demagnetized from the hull and went up to steady his rifle. He had his shot in an instant and did not hesitate. He saw the slight change in direction as the enemy realized his intents and began to react, but it was already too late.

His round flew true, slicing through the cockpit's glass, splashing it with blood as its occupant exploded. The penetrator round continued on through the craft, slicing through armor, engine, and more. The fighter exploded and the shot continued on, only a slight loss in its speed, fleeing into the distance.

The remaining Lightning twisted in the air and he wasn't in a position to shoot it down. That would only last for a moment, however.

As the Valkyrie's engines began to protest the strange position of the craft, the pilot allowed the craft to level out once more. However, he did not stop the motion there and the Valkyrie turned once more, this time on its other side.

The Vindicare hung upside down, nothing but his boots keeping him attached to the hull. Internal augmetics forced the blood from rushing to his head, but even they were being overwhelmed. He was blinded as his eyes went dark from the strain of the gravities, but he did not need his eyes. Linked to the auguries of his mask and rifle, he found his target and took the shot in the same moment.

As his augmetics fought back the darkness from taking him, the Vindicare's sight was restored just as the Valkyrie began to level out once more, performing a barrel roll that let the Vindicare crouch and reseal his hand to the hull. He watched as the wrecks of both Lightnings screamed towards the ground, little more than fireballs.

"Sky's clear," He heard the pilot say.

For now, the Vindicare left unsaid. They needed to extract as quickly as possible.

The Callidus sprinted forward, her blade humming with strange frequencies. The power armored foe raised its blade as if in preparation to block. It would not work, the quality of her blade meant that it could cut through virtually anything, even the plasma containment field of a Sollex-Aegis blade.

She leaps, blade prepared to carve it in twain, and her foe responds and only when it is moving to guard itself does she realize the mistake she's made. The movement is fluid, far too fluid for a suit of armor. The being before her is entirely flesh, despite the strange appearance.

She is already in the air, her momentum is set. Her blade passed through the energy field of the Sollex-Aegis with contemptuous ease, slicing through the entirely organic mass of the wielder's neck just as easily. However, her eyes are not on the slain flesh-puppet, but the small barrel of the plasma pistol that was hidden behind the leg of the creature, like the sprout of some weed and gripped in a crimson red gauntlet emerging from the bottom of the pod.

She saw the trigger finger start to squeeze. With grace beyond that of the greatest of acrobats, the Callidus twisted herself in mid-air, reaching out with her hand to grip the shoulder of the freshly decapitated flesh-puppet. With equally inhuman strength, the Callidus wrenches herself bodily, halting her momentum.

It is just barely enough. She feels the singing of the white-hot flame rake across her as the plasma blast strikes ineffectively into the ceiling. That does not distract her, however. With another graceful twist, her blade strikes once more, this time piercing downwards into the fleshy flooring of the pod. It is not a fully blind strike, assuming the hand itself was an indicator of the true foe's location. However, in that moment, she makes another mistake in ignoring the decapitated flesh-puppet.

With speed and strength pushed beyond what a human was capable of, the headless body, apparently controlled by a brain or some analogue not housed within the helmet-shaped skull, dropped its sword and reached out towards the Callidus. She tried to push off it with her hand to gain distance, but it purposefully fell backwards as she pushed, killing any momentum she might have gained. She felt its hands wrap around her arm with a grip of ceramite and began to squeeze even tighter. At the same time, she saw the barrel of the plasma pistol turning towards her once more.

Her blade flashed up, slicing through the wrists of the flesh-puppet… and her own. Suddenly freed, she shoved off the flesh-puppet just fast enough to dodge the next blast of plasma, which cooked her would-be captor in an instant, turning it to ash. In the same instant, a second red gauntlet burst out of the floor, catching the Sollex-Aegis blade midfall.

The Callidus fell to the hangar floor, rolling with her momentum, bringing herself up in a crouch in a moment. In the time it took her to recover herself, the true power-armored creature rose. This one was painted a familiar crimson and clearly metallic with a silver visor and had a small gap over where its heart would have been were it human, the precise spot where her blade had struck. She noted with slightly narrowed eyes the symbols of the Mechanicus embedded on its shoulders. It wielded the Sollex-Aegis and plasma pistol, holding both at the ready.

She darted to the side, just as the trigger finger of the armored foe tightened and a bolt of white-flame flashed, cooking the air where she'd been a moment earlier. She lanced forwards, throwing herself to the side as a second shot was aimed and fired at her, rolling once before coming up still sprinting.

Dozens of spikes of bone ripped out of the floor of the pod, shooting upwards and out, many directed towards her. She slid, coming to a stop at the base of the pod just as the spikes embedded themselves into the rockrete ceiling above her, and her sword struck upwards like a rising serpent. The power armor did nothing to protect its occupant, who had raised its own blade to strike at her.

Her blade takes it in the stomach, slicing through where the lower spine would be. She slashes outwards, cutting through half of its stomach and through internal cords of the armor. However, the blade of her foe continues downward, uncaring of the damage, and she is forced to push off the pod with all her might, sending her sliding out of the way. With a mental command, her blade deactivates and her one arm reaches up. With the momentum of her slide, her hand catches the floor and she flips back and up into a graceful crouch.

The creature treads after her, but its clear from the sluggishness of its legs that the lower half of the armor is no longer powered. Nonetheless, it moves swiftly and with strength. The plasma pistol comes up again and fires, but she is too close. She ducks down and bolts forward. The sword slashes down and she changes direction just enough, avoiding the blade and the armored warrior, slamming one foot down in front of her and bending her knee to absorb the momentum of her sudden halt. Then, just as the blade is slashing around towards her, one of her legs comes up and intercepts the forearm of the creature with a kick.

The ceramite plating of the power armor cracked under the force of the blow, while her leg remained intact. The creature stumbled forwards, unable to regain its balance after the unexpected strike. She took full advantage. With a single, diagonal slash of her blade, the power armored creature collapsed, its torso slashed into two pieces. It crashed to the ground and remained still there, but she made sure to sever its head from its body, as well as its arms and legs.

The Callidus surveyed her kills carefully. Her eyes did not leave them even as she backed away towards the pair of blanks. The entire fight had taken around thirty seconds, far longer than it should have.

"W-what are you?" She heard the target ask. The Callidus was silent, focused as her ears picked out the sound of an approaching Valkyrie's engines coming from outside the hangar.

"Get ready to leave," The Callidus commanded. "There will be more coming."

The aircraft's roar quieted as it slowed to a hover in the hangar. As it turned about and landed, Cass' eyes widened at the sight of a man, clad in a black bodysuit similar to Sulla's own albeit with a white mask and holding a dangerous looking rifle, detach himself from the side, where it looked as though he'd been hanging off it with one hand. The boarding ramp lowered, but the engines never cut.

"Move!" Sulla ordered and Cass did so as fast as she could, though Brunt's steps were slow. She saw the man and Sulla look at each other, as though speaking a nonverbal or unheard conversation, before Sulla moved over to Brunt's other side and surprised Cass by picking him up, like he weighed nothing more than a corpse-starch bar. She carried Brunt into the landing craft, while the man stood watch. Sulla followed and the man was last inside. His feet had barely touched the ramp before it began to close and the aircraft began to rise.

Sulla set Brunt down in one of the seats, strapping him in. Cass took the seat next to him, watching Sulla carefully. When the black-clad woman turned to her and began the motions to strap her in as well, she did not interfere.

Cass got the feeling that, if she hadn't walked into the landing craft willingly, they wouldn't have taken Brunt with them or been willing to help him. She had no guarantee they still would, but she could guess these people wanted something from her.

The lander's engines roared and shook the craft as it departed from the hive spires and suddenly Cass had a whole new thing to worry about. She had never been on an aircraft before and it was not a gentle ride.

The Culexus assassin piloted the Valkyrie, rushing to try and reach the cloud layer and its auspex-blocking confines. Before whoever had been chasing them sought to use that teleportation trick again.

However, the moment they left the hangar, the Culexus noticed the flash of light coming from above him. His head jerked upwards, just in time to see something falling down towards them. His hands jerked the controls to the side. The Valkyrie swerved and he heard someone in the hold fall over, as well as someone swearing loudly in low gothic, who he assumed was the target.

The thing continued to fall, past where the craft had been moments before, but he thought he could see tendrils reaching out towards the lander from it. There was another flash of light, this one even larger and brighter and the Culexus pushed the craft to its limits, the engines roaring loudly as they surged forwards. It was barely enough and he felt the back of the lander jerk hard as something massive clipped it. It took a moment to regain control, but there was already another flash, the brightest yet, and no chance he could evade this one.

What he could only describe as a writhing mass of tendrils crashed onto the Valkyrie, wrapping its form around the wings and clinging on with a death grip. The Culexus pushed even more power into the Valkyrie's engines, nearing the limits of the safeties to keep it from colliding into the ground, but he could hear metal wrenching as something was torn away by titanic strength. He considered firing the weapons, but if they had been damaged, that could endanger the target.

Then again, so could dying in a crash. The lascannons fired, burning two holes through the writhing mass and, for a moment, he could see out of the windshield again. The Valkyrie was spinning, fortunately away from the spires, but he needed to level it out.

There was the horrible sound of metal being torn away and the Culexus felt the Valkyrie begin to fall as its engines were ripped away. No chance of leveling out then. The tendrils recovered the gap and spread further around the Valkyrie. A suicide attack, was it?

The Culexus left the cockpit. The Callidus' blade could cut their way free. There was only a few seconds to-

There was a vibration, a hum across strange frequencies that made their bones shake and teeth rattle. Their hearts pounded in their chests and adrenaline coursed through their veins as something no amount of training or experience could have prepared them for.

The five of them felt as reality itself opened up and released them from its grasp. Out of time, out of space, they fell and fell.

They saw strange places and far realms beyond the worst imaginings of the Warp and grander than even the greatest designs of gods. They saw monsters who devoured gods and daemons. They saw heroes that never surrendered before evil and brought light wherever they ventured.

They saw everything and in every sense of that word. Worlds that burned with the screams of the damned, xenos so strange that simply witnessing them caused their brains to ache with the pains of forbidden knowledge, and universes filled with life of every kind imaginable and even more that was not.

They fell through the space between their universe and the infinity of others. They might have screamed. They might have cried. They might have gone mad. And, just as it was about to be too much for them, just as they might have broken beyond any hope for repair, reality reached out for them, like the hand of a merciful god, and pulled them back into its care.

Familiar laws reasserted themselves and their frail minds overflowed with the sights they had just borne witness to. The memories leaked out of them like the blood running down their noses and eyes and ears. They had all collapsed where they sat or stood, not unconscious, but twitching and shivering.

They didn't hear the Valkyrie's landing door be wrenched open, didn't see the place they had been transported to, far below the surface of a hive city filled only by the dead. They didn't even feel it as hulking monsters and tiny insects scrambled inside, weapons at the ready, taking careful aim at the barely breathing assassins and blanks.

They moved in swiftly, keeping their weapons trained on their targets the whole time as the insects rushed forwards and burrowed swiftly into their flesh. Only once the five of them were properly infected, with the man starting to be healed of his would-be mortal wounds, did the bioforms dare lower their weapons.