As I fly through the air, gripping an Astartes Chapter Master's leg with all my might, a few questions start to go through my mind. Questions such as "Why am I here?" "Why is Osiris so insistent on this?" and "None of those red-armoured Tempests can see this right?" are at the forefront, but others are there too, questions more along the lines of "Why do I not have my own jump pack?" "How does my life get to the point where this is not even the strangest thing to happen this week?" and "What happened to that Illuminator squad I saw a moment ago?" are up there too. I eventually decide the best course of action is to simply ask, making use of the speaking talents no doubt passed down through all of Ultramar's warriors throughout the ages.
"Remind me again sir, why exactly is this necessary?" That maybe could have come out better, luckily the smile on his face means he did not take offence at my blunt question.
"We need you to take down that craft, and you have no jump pack of your own, Commander!" Technically speaking none of what Chapter Master Jubal Osiris said was wrong, but I would have thought a Chapter as superstitious as The Blue Flames would have a more philosophically inclined warrior at its helm or at least one with a more refined figure. Thoughts of the Chapter's command staff would have to wait though, as we are fast approaching the hijacked transport ship, and I swear I can make out laughter coming from the Kroot mercenaries onboard. I suppose it's fair enough that one of us has some fun doing this, even more so if it's the one about to die.
As Osiris flies overhead, firing a blistering hail of mass reactive rounds from his Fist of Defiance, I release his armour's poleyns from the death-grip I had on them, and allow myself to drop down onto the surface of the ship with all the grace Belisarius Cawl imparted onto me. It turns out however, the hijacked Arvus Lighter was not designed to deal with the weight of a fully armoured Primaris Space Marine falling on it like that, now I know they are laughing. Very well, one can never underestimate the importance of the element of surprise, and this was certainly that if anything. I landed on my feet after the fall, so I draw my power sword and lunch at the nearest Carnivore.
It anticipated the thrust, and dodged out of the way, spinning its rifle and using the momentum to knock my blade off course, or so it thought. As I spun with the turn, I swung my fist out to catch it off guard, the blow connecting with the satisfying crunch of bones snapping under pressure. As the Kroot reeled from the impact, I drew my sword up and pierced through its skin, splitting the head in two like an overripe fruit. As the Xenos' brain splatters over the floor, I feel a grin start to form on my face. But now is no time for patting myself on the back, Omnissiah knows with these pauldrons that would be easier said than done, the rest of the alien warband seems to have reacted badly to my killing of their friend.
They wish to kill an Astartes? Let alone one of Cawl's Primaris?
Let them try.