Everything was silent. Nothing moved it was as if the world was waiting for, something. The Skin Taker flexed his muscles as his serfs reverently attached his new cloak of skin. This was the skin of the 9th Company's Captain and what a skin it was. The man had been a well-built individual with centuries of scars to prove his leadership mettle.

He had even fought as an Emperors Child should have done but in the end, it had done him no good. For what had started off as trophy taking had become an art in skin ripping. Any new addition to his war band first had to go through the initiation, a sliver of skin removed from their cheeks in the symbol of the former 1st Company. Then it was burnt with hot pokers to ensure that it would remain there and not healed by the Laramen cells.

They were taught the ways of the former First Captain and taught how to carve the skin without leaving bloody chunks and all this had to be done whilst the victim was alive, that way the thrill of the kill and the excitement and sensation of listening to them cry out or curse them, which invariably they did if they were Astartes of another Legion loyalist or otherwise, would be that much more potent.

Finally they were ready to join the vaulted ranks of the Soul Takers of Chemos. Of course, he had to test them as well to ensure they were what he was looking for. Some survived the experience and others did not and even though they had not survived the final test, their souls he envied for they were with the Dark Prince and by his side in eternal sensation.

How he envied them but that did not mean he had any intentions of following them. He turned to his Captain, Donaster. The man was the pride and joy of the Skin Taker his uniform had many grisly trophies' hanging from the spikes that rose from his back. Ears, skulls hands and yet the greatest trophies was a pair of eyes set into his armour. Taken from an Iron Hand warrior when they crossed swords some twenty years ago. With the fell magic's of the company librarian Tomas the eyes were implanted into the armour of the company champion and would forever see the death and destruction that the Captain wrought across the worlds of the Imperium.

Now as he too looked to the skies of this lawless and blighted world he felt that he could see his enemy coming. He hoped Mandeaus had lost none of his fighting spirit that had made the man such an envied Lord Commander. It would be an honour to fight one with some skill other than those he had skinned in his long existence. Unlike mortals he did not fear death, and even loyalist marines only feared death if it were not worthy of the so-called Angels of Death of the Emperor.

A wasted forgotten death was un-heroic and forgettable. To him however and others like him it was only a new sensation to savour. He had often wondered what his own death would feel like, when after all this time he had felt nothing but others deaths. His own would be the absolute of sensations and he was secure that he had served the Dark Mistress completely and he would revel in what she offered him in death but until then she would reward him in other ways as he would continue to serve her.

He turned to his inner circle and nodded once. It was time to prepare and he had the slaves brought forward. Fight with honour he had said and he would reward them with a quick death, fight with cowardice and their deaths would be slow and painful. This was what he was made for and this was what he had waited for. To bring punishment to one company who had not followed their father, he was going to enjoy this.

First the sound of two thousand boots snapped to attention, waiting for their Lords words. Second at a given flash on their visor displays all manner of combat stimulants began to flood their system. Some let out sighs as their preferred vices wormed their way through their system, heightening their senses and allowing them to hear the heart beats of their enemies. Others swayed a little, as their bodies became pure combat ready.

Jovotch and his two senior Captains, Joas and Benaslon kept a reign on their stimulants for the moment and the Lord Commander pointed to the first town they could see.

"Let's wipe them out and let the Skin Taker know that we are here" He bellowed.

Two thousand men at his back roared their affirmation and only when they had started their move towards the town did he let his own stimulants flood his body.

The Dreadnoughts howled in an insane cacophony that made the humans that lived here fall to their knees, their hands over bleeding ears and eyes. The Rapture took the town quickly and violently. Buildings burnt with people still in them, the screeches and pleas of those looking for mercy filled the air. The sound was made more poignant when they realised there would be no mercy. Sergeant Cadiz grabbed one woman and with his teeth ripped her throat out, the jerking of her body causing his senses to go into hyper drive and the violence of her death stirring the battle drugs to even more frenzied heights.

He dropped her body to the floor and with the point of his sword carved the mark of the Dark Mistress into her twitching body. Jovotch watched his Sergeant as he took another three or four women in the same way, sending them to the Mistress for her halls,

His teeth had become almost fang like lately and he lived for the taste of blood but not in the way that would be associated with the barbarous blood fighters of Khorne. He seemed to get off on the fear that was in their blood and despite seeing what had happened to those before them, his victims came willingly to him.

"Lord!" Boras, his voice heavy with the thrill of the hunt pointed "They come!"

Jovotch was shaken from his musings as the sight of the Angels of Ecstasy came towards them but not just them. The Lord Commander gripped his sword and his bolter as he saw the Soul Takers of Chemos and their leader. He snarled under his breath and ordered the Dreadnought released in front of them.

Let them have the first kill it would be a massacre but he wanted the Skin Taker, he owed him and some debts took a while to claim and if she was with them today then he would claim this bastards head.

"Get into position" He ordered "Time to avenge the 9th" His warriors stopped what they were doing and got into pre-ordained positions. Joas glanced at his Lords face and knew what this was about.

This was what Halter had waited for, and one way or another it would finish here. Revenge was a powerful emotion and one that he had honed to perfection but he prayed that his friend would remember above all who the Skin Taker was before the fall. That he was one of the elite and in that he had an advantage over the Lord Commander. Kareosian was not just some elevated demon prince, he was still a warrior without equal, he was still classed as the First Captain, and he was not going to be a push over.

Verun roared his anger at his fate, his mind descending into spirals of madness as he realised his predicament. He was hard-wired into the sarcophagus wires plunged into his head, arms, legs, and torso. That was not what had driven him into madness; it was the eternal voices of the Dreadnoughts chaos infused demonic spirit.

The spirit would fill his every waking moment with images of how life should be, how much the powers of Chaos gave to loyal followers of theirs and what they did to followers of the Corpse God. He screamed and roared as the images assailed him further and in a fit of uncontrollable battle rage he turned his mighty chain gun and battle-axe on those closest to him.

Jovotch smiled as the newest addition to the Raptures Dreadnoughts slaughtered his way through the enemy and when he came face to face with a maddened Skin Takers Dreadnought he put several shots through the sarcophagus, when it had fallen he stood on it and continued hacking away at it with his battle axe. The scent of blood assaulting the former Blood Angel and Jovotch once more saw the bloodlust that was the hidden shame of the Blood Angels emerge. By the end of this battle, whatever was left of former Blood Angel Verun would be in eternal service to Chaos.

"Come little one, face me now"

Jovotch turned to see the Skin Taker hold the head of a Rapture battle brother and toss it to one side. Almost immediately his memory went back to Istvaan IV, and for a moment he stood lost in the memory.

Jovotch stood before the warrior, with the madness all around them it was hard to determine who was friend and who was foe.

"Come with me Kelva," He had implored "Our father can lead us to a future of perfection."

"No I will not Halter, this is madness there is no more perfect being then the Emperor and I will not fail in my duty to him even going against the orders of our father."

"The Phoenician is perfection brother" Jovotch told him sternly.

"No brother, when the time comes I will join Captain Tarvitz and fight for the soul of the legion. Surely you must know what strangeness this is, it is wrong and it is not like our father, he has never turned against his father."

"Kelva have I ever steered you wrong? In our childhood did I not do what our father asked of us?"

Kelva Jovotch shrugged sadly "You are my blood kin and I love you brother but I cannot join you."

Jovotch bowed his head "Then leave here, take a shuttle and leave here so that you can think on what you have forsaken"

Halter turned and walked away, some ties were stronger than even the ties of battle brothers. A few days later in the heat of the battle against those who would side with the Emperor and not follow the decree of the Warmaster, he found the First Captain.

Karesoian stood up and looked at Jovotch he smiled a little as he licked his lips "His death was hard won you should be proud of that at least but I take a token now Halter and let it be a lesson to you."

The enraged battle brother stared as the skinned body of his brother lay at his feet and the insane laughter of the First Captain rang in his ears.

"There will be a reckoning between us bastard!" He swore as his battle brothers swept him away from the field of battle so that the viral bombs could be unleashed.

His focus returned to the here and now and before him the gloating figure of Julius Karesoian – the so-called Skin Taker of Chemos - taunted him once more. With a roar he ran at the former First Captain, for aside from the Word Bearers there were no more full legions, every one of them had fallen into war bands He owed him nothing.

No allegiance nothing but revenge for his fallen blood kin.