The spray of blood, ground-shaking explosions, and the bellows of men killing men.

This is what Andros heard as he wrenched the bayonet attached to his lasrifle out of the gasping man in front of him. Firing a lasbolt into the man's skull, melting and exploding his forehead, Andros prepares himself for another melee. He is however alone, besides the half a dozen or so bodies of his squad mates, and a last struggle in the middle of the muddy trench. Sprinting towards the two combatants, Andros slams his foot into the stomach of the large man strangling his fellow PDF Rifleman, throwing him into the mud. Antony instantly leaps on top of the Guardsman, grabbing his bayonet from the sheath on his side. Before the man can grab his arms, Antony plunges the blade through his flak armor, and twisting. With a gurgle, the soldier goes limp.

Antony remains still over the still twitching body, but with a gasp he quickly crawls several feet away and vomits. Andros retrieves his friend's lasrifle, walking back over to the shaken Rifleman. With several shuddering breaths, he hoists him to his feet, handing him his weapon.

"Is it over?" Rasps the soldier, his bruised neck seamlessly blending in with the long accumulated mud and viscera.

Andros peers over the edge of the trench, spotting several enemies as they fled back to their line; another failed assault being chased away by heavy bolter and stubber fire. However, that fire is greatly reduced from what it would have been an hour ago.

"For now" Andros says, with a voice devoid of emotion. This wasn't the first attack upon their position on the front lines. But this may be the last; from what he could guess, if the enemy had sent even a slightly larger force, they would not be alive.

Andros turned and laid his hand on Antony's shoulder, "Come on, some of them have got to still be alive." Antony nodded and they began to check their comrades. For some, the effort was useless. Their sergeant, Soban, had had his head torn off by a heretic's chainsword. Another, Kobal, had his back blown out by a bolter shell.

"Andros! Barius is alive! Looks like he got knocked out by that filth." Antony gestured towards a nude man, bloody symbols etched into his skin, as well as a bent piece of metal still clutched in his hand.

Barius, unconscious, had seemingly lost his flak helmet, and had a bloody lump on the back of his head. Andros ran his hand over the injury. "Emperor willing he'll be fine; when he fell of that Chimera, he looked worse than this… Hand me your canteen."

Doing as asked, Antony passed his canteen to Andros, who unscrewed it and unceremoniously poured it over Barius's head.

"Grox-shit!" Barius's eyes flew open, and in one swift motion, he grabbed for his bayonet, still sheathed at his side. Andros placed a hand on his, causing both of their eyes to meet. Letting out an uneasy breath, Barius looked around.

"Frak! Shit, shit, shit!" He leapt up, but quickly grabbed the side of the trench for support. "How the FRAK did this happen?"

Andros sighed, "I don't know, Antony and I just checked the others. It's just us three."

"FRAK!" Barius kicked the head of the naked ex-Imperial Guardsman, whose neck made a soft crack. "It wasn't supposed to be like this! They were supposed to help us!"

Antony looked helplessly at Andros, who sighed, as if this conversation had happened before. "We still don't know why... But you, Antony, myself, or any of our brothers and sister have to try."

"The Emperor knows I will try, by the Golden Throne, I will try. But in His name, we shouldn't have to." He placed both of his hand on the trench wall, leaning into it. "It's been two weeks, Two frakking weeks since everything we know has gone to grox-shit!" Balling his hand into a fist he slams it into the dirt. "The orcs we could have handled, Warp, our ancestors have used those frakking ferals in those frakking jungles for centuries! But those daemon humpers from World grox piss, came to 'help'." With a sob he punched the wall. "They frakking destroyed it, all of Hive Vabrii! All. Of. It!" Each words enunciated with a punch.

Rooted to the spot, Andros looked at the back of Barius's head, simply saying "I don't know."

Whipping around, Barius ran to the trench facing no-man's-land, he shouted "For frakks sake! We're only 17!" Turning back and laying against the trench wall, he whispered while peering at the two of them, Antony refusing to make eye contact, however locking eyes with Andros, "The three of us were going to the Academy…"

There was a pause, Barius staring in between his legs into the mud, mud mixed with blood and debris.

With a voice that startled both Antony and Barius, a voice full of controlled rage, a voice without the thought of failure, Andros spoke. "My brothers, I do not know the reason this filth came to our world, nor do I know the reason that they have shunned our Emperor's light. But I know one thing; I know how they will leave, I know how we will give the His light back to them." Staring into each of his friends made brothers-in-arms eyes in turn, he lowered his voice. "Brothers, only we can make them leave. The Emperor gives us strength, but by His strength, they will not find us wanting. By our lives, and the lives of all of our ancestors, these forever cursed heretics will be banished from our beloved home. By our blades, we will send their souls into the Warp that their 'gods' call home. And by my honor, we will succeed. I swear you this. Ave Imperator."

Barius stared at his childhood friend, eyes now dry, resolve set into what for two weeks prior, only a desperation for survival could be found. He nodded. "Ave Imperator."

Antony stood with his back straight, making the sign of the aquila. No longer was fear found within his heart, replaced by a strength born over generations of warriors. And with a nod, "Ave Imperator".

Andros grasped each of their forearms in turn, linking foreheads, as they did the same for each other. "Alright, pray for our fallen, and check for provisions. Command will most likely send a runner down the line. I'm guessing they're still intercepting out vox."

As the two set about the task, Andros stepped up onto the ledge, allowing him to contemplate the events 3 weeks prior; how his beautiful world of Gloria had been brought into fire and sword, through xenos and heretic.