Dark Talon Hypor stumbled through the burning hive. Simple mission they said, huh, then where did the simple go? Hypor slumped up against a wall and surveyed the area. The bomb that had blown him and his squad from the 24th floor of the Ministorum tower had also caught the surrounding area in the blast. Hypor had already checked and recovered his squads gene-seed. Sergeant Girz had been impaled by 3-metre long piece of metal, Foyar had been crushed by a slab of concrete(it had taken him 2 hours to dig his body out), Vick and Damon were the closest to the blast and had been blown in half(which meant there gene-seed was damaged, sadly). Must reach the Arbites precinct, they'll have a vox.
Hypor was walking through the rubble when he heard a voice. "So, Hypor, tell me, when was the last time you felt fear?" The voice was deep and vox-filtered. Hypor scanned the area and drew his gladius and bolt pistol. "How do you know my name, fiend," he questioned. "You know who I am, after all, I'm the one you've been tracking," the voice said. Realization his Hypor like a brick wall. The person his squad had been tracking was Galvanax the Malicious, sorcerer lord of the Midnight Sons. Galvanax had been plaguing Sub-sector Ossious for a decade before Hypor's squad( a Death Angels Dark Talon Squad) had started harassing his operations. The evidence had led them to Adonis, a mid-grade hive planet. Galvanax had been forming a cult until Squad Girz came in guns a blazing at their hideout.
Hypor looked all around him, switching between all of his helmets optics. No thermals, echo-location, or even regular vision could help him. "I sense you are nervous," he heard, hearing the smile of his face. "Now, I shall show you fear!" Hypor began to run as fast as he could, with his injured leg of course. He made it a few blocks away before he could feel the psychic tendrils tingling his mind. I will make you remember fear… Hypor roared and tore his helmet off, dark locks of bloody hair falling into his face. Hypor looked up and felt a tingle run down his spine, an altogether alien feeling. The sight that greeted his eyes was the undead visage of Girz. Half a jaw, intestines spilling from his abdomen and an ungodly stench. "This is your fear, Hypor of the Death Angels," said Girz's undead visage, "the fear of failure!" Hypor's last sight was Galvanax's staff breaking through Girz's misty form and puncturing his breastplate. Hypor looked up at him. He was dressed in the midnight blue and silver etched armor of his unholy brothers, wearing a ram-horned helm.
Hypor looked at him and began to laugh, bloody spit spurting out of his mouth as he did so. "What is so funny, do you find your own death amusing," Galvanax questioned. He looked up at him with one last defiant smile. "No, but yours is," he replied and thrust himself further along the staff, but closer to Galvanax. He plunged his gladius into his gorget and roared "I AM YOUR FEAR GALVANAX." And with that the two fell to the ground in an awkward grace.