Happy July 4th to all of my American readers out there. Here is the next chapter, I hope it was worth the wait. Enjoy and review!

The Kill-team moved forward in front of the Imperial Fists with an unnatural grace. Some times it seemed as if they were almost half Eldar under the armor. As they moved ahead, the four Space Marines and Dreadnought communicated on their private vox link. "This seems more then just a planetary population wishing for succession if they are throwing their lot in with the Dark Gods. The human followers are offered up to us in the hopes that they will get stuck in our throat." Ivan muttered on com link.

Cain grunted. "Aye, there is more to us then meets the eye. I hate all of this deception that the Alpha Legion employs. I would much rather be at the forefront of the approaching Hive Fleet then fighting through this smokescreen. Senguanious' blood, even the stances and internal conflict of the Inquisition is much better then fighting this. Give me the Hive Fleet or the battle between puritans and radicals any moment."

Brand gave a dour laugh. "Wouldn't we all brother. Still, we have a mission to complete and I will not wish to see our legacy tarnished with a failure. But there is something else that claws at the back of my mind. Something of the planet is biting at me, like an itch in the back of my head."

"Speak freely Apothecary." Goremann spoke through the link.

Brand struggled a moment, trying to find the right words. "While we were arming, I payed a visit to the Librarium for information of this world's history. What I found was a legend that was most... disturbing." The Kill-Team's ears listened with a hunger. "It was a tale told to the explorers who rediscovered the Reach, and the teller said it was a story passed down through the generations of isolation. In the wake of the Great Darkness, an unknown alien threat awoke and came to Atlantica for conquest. Their sister world fell to this foe in a matter of hours and billions died. The population of Atlantica knew that they would share their fate."

Ha'sen moved up and surveyed the local area for an ambush before giving the all clear signal to his brothers in arms. "I have a bad feeling where this story is going. "

Brand continued. "The elders of the planet made a pact with the sea of souls for a weapon and a fuel so they could protect themselves from the threat. They were given their weapon and the warp rift to fuel it. However, like all gifts of the warp, it was a double edged sword. While it utterly destroyed their foes, it destroyed their world. Giving birth to the ocean bound hive cities that we are currently fighting for."

Ivan spoke when it was clear that Brand was finished. "Then one can assume the course of events that followed. I do not think the population of Atlantica took the initiative to summon these heretical forces. Some perhaps, but it is a bit too large of a pill to swallow that the entirety of the planet summoned the Alpha Legion and some of their counterparts."

Cain nodded and pulled free his combat knife. His hearing picking up the sound of battle. Halting the Dreadnought, the four armored Marines moved forward. Realizing their weapons would be a bit loud, all of them save Ha'sen drew their silent melee weapons. Ivan sheathed his chain sword and drew his own knife, which bore a scimitar like design. They moved amongst the rubble and saw more Space Marines.

There were thirty of them, bearing the dark green of the Salamanders. From their distance, each of them could see their battle damaged suits of power armor and company numbers on them. Many of them were resting against the Rhino troop carriers or even the massive Land Raider that was idling. Cain leaned over to Ha'sen. "Are these your brothers?"

Ha'sen moved in closer, and tried to get a better look. However, the massive multi melta caused him to lose his balance. His boot loosed some rubble, causing the closest Salamander down there to hear it even over the sounds of idling engines. "Emperor's bowels..." Ha'sen swore as the Marine looked down his scope, obviously picking up the heat signatures. There was some yelling but the words that made the Kill-team spring into action was the call for lascannons.

Separating like scatter shot, the four marines broke from their position just in time to narrowly avoid a super concentrated las shot. Rubble flew in all of the directions, showering them with meteoric stone, the ghosts of much larger stone reduced to nothing more then gravel. Their physical augmentations quickly allowed them to recover from the shock and trauma of the blast. Each one of them was back on their feet as the bolter rounds screamed all around them. Ha'sen tried to signal his brothers, but were only met with with mass reactive shot. He tried the vox link in vein, but ultimately found it jammed just as much as the other vox links.

"Tempest devour them!" Brand said as he returned the fire, praying to the Emperor that none of his shots would kill the Space Marines. "These lads are a bit to itchy on the trigger fingers. They don't even have a clear shot at us to see who or what we are."

"Ha'sen, don't you have the book on you so that you can convince them who you are?" Ivan responded as he fired his plasma pistol. Ha'sen felt like a dunce as the Black Dragon reminded him of the book all Salamanders and believers of the Promethean Cult. He opened his chest plate to a small compartment and produced a book wrapped in the partial hide of his first salamander kill. He flipped it open to a well dog eared page. He was frantic in trying to find that page, knowing that his brothers would kill one another in any moment. Finding the right page, he set his helmet to an external address and began.

"And so as Vulkan spent years in isolation during the Great Crusade to find himself, so should we isolate ourselves from the world around us. Only in isolation do we find our true selves and what our true motives are. In such times of self-imposed solitude do we find our finest way to carry our faith of the Emperor and Vulkan. Be it through the warrior's way, the blacksmith upon his anvil-"

"Salamanders, cease fire!" a voice, Tibias more then likely, bellowed across the din of battle. Brand ordered the same for the kill team and soon the gunfire stopped. The Imperial Fists were not far behind and Felross came down with the Kill-Team.

Sliding down the rubble, the kill team and Felross passed through the ruby gazes of the the Salamanders. Undoubtedly behind those helmets, there were sneers and a few looks of disgust. Tibias came out in front of the brothers. His armor was dented and popped, several autocannon rounds were lodged in his left grieve and he had a deep gouge on the side of his head. "Felross... Deathwatch." The Salamander commander looked to each of them, a small amount of contempt lacing his face. "I assume it is tradition for the Deathwatch to greet each other with bolter rounds exchanged."

Cain laughed gruffly and crossed his arms. "In our defense, your Salamanders shot first."

Ha'sen silenced Cain with a glare and returned his attention to his brother. "Regardless, the forces of Chaos are here and they will not rest until they or we are nothing more then smoldering corpses. The Alpha Legion wants this planet and the more we fight amongst ourselves is time they have preparing the final sacrifices to open Emperor only knows what!"

One of the Salamander veterans laughed. "There are no forces of Chaos here. All that exists is nothing more then well organized resistance."

Brand was about to retort when there was a screaming over head. Their heads shot open and twenty red dots were caught in a free fall. The sight got larger and larger before they all came crashing down into the plaza with the rest of them. Their armor was of a light red blood, with the tear drop blood drop sporting twin angelic wings. The whine on their voxes all began to fade as the methods the Alpha Legion lost their power. "I had a feeling the rest of you would be here." Rafael's voice was a welcomed sound over the vox link. He jumped down from the top of a hive block and used his jump pack to hover for a moment before impacting with the ground. "Trying to start an invasion without me?"

"Commander Rafael? I see you managed to survive the explosion." Goremann boomed and the scion of Sanguineous nodded in affirmation.

"Aye, old one." He turned his attention to his other commanders. "Regardless the threat of Traitor Marines is here. I lost eighteen of my finest Brothers to them and a chaplain as well. If we are to crush this rebellion utterly, then we need to strike at the heart of the rebellion."

Cain looked to his cousin. "Then pray tell, where will that be?"

"That is an answer I can deliver." Pilate's voice as well as his Thunderhawk entered their ears. The black gunship landed not far from them and the door ramp opened, revealing the Imperial Fists that were trapped in high orbit. Pilate's suit of armor showed signs of battle and he carried his thunder hammer in one hand as he exited the Thunderhawk. "There were not guns turned against us, they were deceived just as much as we were. Though, thankfully to the Techmarines that each of the chapters brought, they were able to override the jamming signal coming from one place."

He pointed upwards. "At the very top of the Granite Spire."

Keeley moved slowly, her breath was raged and exhausted. A small crimson trail was all that remained behind her in the duct. "It always is much easier in the films." She mused quietly to herself. She continued to pull herself forward, following the shaft where ever it would take her. Anywhere would be safer then it was back there.

The daemon was something more demented then she ever had experienced. Though she only felt it, her ribcage experienced the worst of it. Three broken ribs and she didn't want to think about how many bruises covered her body. Her body would cope later with the injuries. She had survived this far, she wasn't about to falter here and now.

Seeing light ahead of her, she continued forward and reached out into the warp with her psycic talents. Using her mind as it became free of her body, she moved through the coruscating tunnels and paths of the shaft to see what laid beyond at the end. The visions were blurry and unrefined, though all she could feet was the cold temperature of it and an armored suit with a body as cold as the room. She pulled her conscious self back into her body, her entire body shivering and convulsing as she did so. It was abrupt and not her usual controlled self, but she was a mouse in a den of vipers. She needed to do everything to keep body her body and mental self hidden from those who wished to do her harm.

Continuing onward, and cutting herself up a bit more, she reached the end. She peered through the vent slits and saw only a slab with an armored figure upon it. She glanced from end to end to see if there were any others who occupied the room.

Finding none, she pushed out with her abilities. Screws came off and when I was about to fall, she reached out and grabbed the guard being sure that it didn't cause any more noise. She poked her head out and looked around. The frost met her first, something that could only spell the entities of the warp were at work here. She saw the armored figure, but he was covered with a shroud so that she could not get a good look at it.

Reaching out, she pulled herself trough the portal and lowered herself unto the ground. She pulled her robes around her tighter as the cold bit at her. She approached the shrouded figure and felt her heart drop at the sight of black armor. It was the same raven colors of the Deathwatch. But what shocked her was the absence of the silver. It was entirely painted black... peculiar.

She reached the slab and pulled back the shroud. As she pulled it down to the shoulders, she saw a the face. It was angelic in it's essence, but bore many scars from the edge of a blade and las gun burns. Two silver skulls embedded in the right side of his temple showed two hundred years of service. She then got a look on the shoulder pad. She recoiled in horror as it bore the heraldry of the Blood Angels!

She found the arcanium not far, untainted with a gene lock on it. She pulled the shroud completely off and was marveled to see that the armor bore to signs of battle. The Son of Sanguineous was a cold body inside a suit of power armor. So who exactly was this man?

He was the body of a chaplain, the armor and weapons gave that much away. Yet... this bared the resemblance to the brash zealot earlier in the campaign. But she wasn't feeling the essence her psychic gifts showed her in the beginning. Reaching out hesitantly, she placed both of her hands on the breastplate and let the visions take her.

Each of the Space Marines stood amongst each other, readying their weapons while their squad leaders led them in prayer and hymns of battle. Bolter clips were refreshed, knives were polished, and weapons were checked to be in proper working order. They were going against a massive warband of Chaos Undevided, and they all knew they would not go through the maelstrom of razors unscathed. The Apothecaries were tending last minute wounds while the Techmarines worked on the Dreadnoughts, fixing the damaged assault cannon for Jutland and repairing the dents in their armored chassis.

The Deathwatch and the commanders stood inside the idling Thunderhawk, overlooking their battle plans. "The assault on the Granite Lord's keep is going to be audacious." Pilate spoke as he produced the image on the on the holograph display. "The whole thing has eight landing pads and it's divided into four districts. Ecclesiarchy, Mechanicus, Administration, and Nobel. Each one of these will undoubtedly been put to the butchers blade, so we will be on our own."

Felross brought it into sharp focus, showing the top of the spire in grater detail. "Four sectors, each one filled with heretics and traitor Marines. Dorn's blood, this will be an uphill battle. Yet we are united together, and if we can place our martial skill and tactical capabilities in that... then we will be unstoppable."

Tibias nodded and activated the method of deployment. "We will strike as one, landing on the pads for one sector. From there we fight to the heart of this heresy and bring it low." He looked up and saw Ha'sen, his eyes narrowed on keep. Clearly something was on his mind that he was very hesitant to share. "Brother Ha'sen, you seem distant and vengeful. Something ails you."

Ha'sen shook his head and closed his baleful red eyes for a moment before looking back at Tibias. "Yes, something ails me. A twice fought enemy whose life I should have taken fifteen years ago is here. Thala'ki is here." At the mention of the name, Tibias felt his open hand tighten into a fist. The other commanders and Deathwatch marines looked over to Ha'sen as if to explain. Reluctantly, Ha'sen spoke. "During the cleansing of a Chaos Warband known as the Relentless Slaughter, we faced some of Khorne's children. Bloodletters, but they were unusually armed and trained. Thala'ki was one of them, and I was a member of the Honor Guard for Chapter Master Tu'shan. It was on that battlefield where I meet the bastard known as Thala'ki. They were many and we were few, but we held our ground in the face of their force and defied them. During the height of the melee, Tu'shan was struck down with a crippling, though not lethal blow. I threw my blade to intercept the killing blow, and when we crossed swords, he lashed out on me while Tu'shan recovered. Though the daemon ultimately escaped from my retribution, I knew it was a matter of time before we met again. Fifteen years ago, we met again and again he escaped. I owe him a debt of blood and fury."

Rafael placed his gauntleted hand on Ha'sen's shoulder. "Your thirst for vengeance will be slated in due time. But now we need to plan out our attack. I recommend we secure the landing pads leading up to the Administration sector. From there we can draw the fallen into a killing field as we progress inevitably forward."

Brand plugged in a few codes and the image changed. "Agreed, but we will be going against not only Traitor Marines and heretical militia, but also their armor. Predators and Dreadnoughts will be expected, possibilities also include Hellbrutes and Defilers."

"We have a Land Raider and several Rhinos, along with devastators designed for anti-tank encounters. But we will be defenseless without tactical and assault support. We need to move as one and fight as one." Tibias explained and the other captains nodded in agreement, along with the Deathwatch. "The Deathwatch will be the reconnaissance and lynch-pins of the operation. They will assess targets ahead of us and take them out or warn us of them. With all four of our ships in orbit, we will be able to feed them our target data to take out threats we cannot."

Felross looked outside and saw that the sun was beginning to set. "Brothers, we should strike when the sun finally sets on this hemisphere. The rest of us should prepare for the strike. Our brothers will be longing to hear or plans. We had best deliver it to them." As they moved out of the Thunderhawk, the Deathwatch moved for some quiet solitude. To ready themselves for battles for what could be the last time they would do so.

Keeley pulled her hand back, her entire body coated in a thin layer of sweat. She couldn't believe what she saw... it explained everything. She knew the detainees of the warp were a crafty bunch of bastards, but this was far more then what she originally expected. She needed to act quickly, to get out of here before it was too late.

She looked back into the shrunken blue eyes and closed his eyes lids for him. "May you go find peace at long last, Brother Chaplain Dunn. Son of Baal and scion of Sanguineous. Find a better life at His side." She looked away from the face and saw the chain with the jeweled Aquila on his neck. It was large, slightly bigger then her heart was. She picked it up and examined it, feeling the awesome might that was held within it.

Would it be wrong to take it? After all, it is made for an Angel of Death. She had heard superstitions of the weapons and equipment built for such turn on those who were unworthy for their use. But, she reasoned as she draped in around her neck, she would hand it back to the Blood Angels at the appropriate time. Particularly if she survived this horror.

She used her gifts to see if there was a way out, one that would go around all of the insane madmen. Sadly, there was none. But there was one way that would not reveal her location, but he would have to cross the path of more then a few traitors. She appalled the use of violence except in two cases: Tyranids and daemons. Unfortunately, she would have to cross a few misbegotten cultists and heretics, but if the were in her way she would have to kill them or they would do the favor on to her.

She looked around for a weapon, and only found a copper pipe roughly two meters in length. She picked it up and examined it for a moment and decided it was a better weapon then none.

She opened the door a sliver and looked around. Seeing none, but hearing the screams of those being sacrificed, she moved out and closed the door behind her. She walked along the metal walkway and always kept her ear open to be sure she heard when she would be expecting company. As she turned the corner, she saw a heretical militia man. Her nose smelled the scent of obscura... or a related narcotic. He was armed with a las pistol and a las carbine over his shoulder. She couldn't take him out by bludgeoning him to death. The sound would be to evident and he would squeeze off a few shots as well. She had to get past him, and stealth wasn't on the table.

She moved quietly, trying to make any noise then was absolutely necessary. Then, when she was close enough, she made her move. Extinguishing the candle lights with nothing more then a thought, she pulled free his knife and jammed it into the side of his neck. Her spare hand covered the mouth so he would not make a sound as he expired. His weapons cluttered to the ground and she eviscerated him for good measure.

She took up las pistol and, satisfied that it bore no heretical markings on it, took it up and continued to roof. Only then was she hit with a feeling that could only be described as as pure woe.

Cain looked down to his weapons as h slid the last shell into his shotgun. This was it, from here on out there would be no tactical withdrawals or falling back. Either you fought or you stoped because you were slain. That was what the Flesh Tearers were made for. To attack the enemy, to hold him tight around the throat, and only to let go once they were dead.

He heard a pair of boots draw him out of his concentration and looked upon Capitan Rafael. The Blood Angel's armor was repaired, though the superficial damage still remained. "Cain, before this battle I believe we have some matters to discuss." Cain was about to rise but found that the Captain sat down on a crate next to him. "You and I fully know that our chapters do not see eye to eye on many situations."

"This is true." Cain nodded.

"But today we must put aside our differences. You may see me and my chapter as a prideful and arrogant chapter."

Cain laughed like a wild animal. "And just as you may see my chapter as uncaged animals who walk the thin line of damnation every day. But there is a verse each Flesh Tearer and all desendents of the Angel of Blood say on their day they become fully fledged battle-brothers. It varies from chapter to chapter on the wording, but the meaning is clear. He who shed his blood with me on this day shall be my Battle-Brother eternal!"

The Blood Angel pulled free his combat knife and removed his gauntlet, just as Cain did. The two cut a line open on their palms and when there was ample blood on their hands, clasped them. "This act was done back in the haydays of the Great Crusade throughout the Legion. And it's significance was lost since then. But on this day in this battlefield...I see it now."

Cain grinned , and Rafael did the same. Cain knew what the Blood Angel meant. "It means we are not cousins, Rafael. We are brothers. Till mortal flesh ceases to exist."

The last of the Marines boarded the idling Thunderhawks, each them ready for war. The Kill Team was the last to board theirs, their weapons adorned with blessed oils and and armor polished. Storm clouds gathered above, and rain soon began to fall as their doors closed. Apothecary brand looked to the members of his kill team. Ivan slammed in a fresh plasma pistol canister and lowered his head in prayer. Ha'sen did last minute examinations of his weapon, while Cain rapped his fingers on the pump of his shotgun. The three Dreadnoughts were in the back, each one of them waiting for command. Even Pilate was amongst them, himself eager to be on the front lines once again.

"Brothers..." Brand began, drawing the attention of his comrades to him. "I do not need to tell you what is at stake here. You know what we fight for: if we fail here a whole new front could open up to the crusade. If we fail here, almost a hundred Space Marines from the First Founding and six from the Deathwatch will be lost. We do not know what we will be facing against, so we will fight as if the very gods of chaos have come for this world. We do not know what our odds of survival will be so we will fight them as if they were zero."

He paused and he drew his claymore. "But I do know this. The Imperium will not hear of us, and we may die unthanked and forgotten by all those save our parent chapters. But the Emperor... he will remember us as will Chaos for the terrible we strike against them today. When the Emperor rises from the Golden Throne on the end of days, and kills the Archenemy, their last thought will be of us. We cannot lose, Brothers of the Long Vigil, for we have already won. Let us pray to the Emperor now, as if it were our last words."

They bowed their heads as Brand began the prayer. "I am the righteous storm, the tempest of retribution to His foes..."

"On your feet!" The Thousand Son pulled Astrid to her feet and the two began to walk, or in Astrid's case dragged. She could hear all of the tortured screaming as they walked through the corridors to where the sound of rain impacting against metal became more audible. This was it. It was her time to die. She closed her eyes and began to feverishly whisper her prayers to the Emperor and Primarchs. It was apparent that the Thousand Son heard her but he chose to ignore her. They went through the door and were met with fury of rain mixed with gale-like wind.

She opened her eyes and saw dozens of Legionaries move with purpose with scores more of traitor militia. Heavy weapons were being erected and armored vehicles were being loaded with troops or were deployed to strategic positions. She smiled, they were on their way. She may be ready to die but the Kill Team and the other chapters would avenge her.

They walked through the massive doors to one of the landing pads. There, heavy weapon teams finished setting up heavy stubbers and shotcannons. In the opening near the edge, Astrid was forced back to her knees and she looked down and saw the Thunderhawks on their way, She closed her eyes and controlled her breathing. The sound of a sword being pulled free from it's scabbard behind her filled her ears just as much as the growing growl of the Thunderhawks. The Shield of Macragge was the first to reach the landing pad and with it's lights directly on Astrid and the Thousand Son.

As the door opened, the sorcerer brought his sword down.