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He placed his helm on the soft sand of the beach he found himself on. Blue oceans stretched for miles in front of him, their waves gentle and their sound relaxing. A refreshing salty breeze blew across the sun swept lands, giving his face some much needed moisture. He found himself awestruck by the beautiful environment. He was expecting to be dropped into some war-torn despotic slave planet, to fight in his Emperor's name. Yet he could've never imagined just the opposite would greet him.

However, just as he felt the grip of complacency closing in on his mind, he remembered a terrible detail about unfortunate banishments to the Warp: it tended to mutate creatures. Badly. Especially when daemons directly toyed with them.

Rushing over to the water's edge, the Custodian took a long, hard, and detailed look at his face, examining every possible distinguishing feature to make sure they were all in their rightful place. Dull brown eyes stared back at him, his reflected visage seemingly untouched. His dirty blonde hair was still intact, his prominent chin had thankfully not grown any horns, and his implants appeared to all be in the same place, unaltered. Put at ease by this revelation that, at least at first glance, his perilous descent to the brink of madness had not caused any truly incurable wounds, at least to his physical vessel, the Custodian raised himself to his full height once more. Albeit now calmer, his previous paranoia had jumpstarted his brain into full capacity from whatever sluggishness had remained of his travel through the Warp rift. Now keenly aware of his environment, something immediately felt off about this supposed paradise world which emulated the Terra of old legends. His olfactory senses were picking up smoke in the air, and a nagging feeling in the back of his mind assured him that, despite initial looks, something deeply unholy was going on in this seemingly perfect world.

Perhaps a perk gained from my stay in the Warp? Or a daemon trying to drill into my skull? He supposed it did not matter as long as he stayed where he was. Even if whatever world he had landed upon was an entirely peaceful and prosperous compliant planet of the Imperium, he was still no doubt light years away from where he had to be to serve his master. Treading back to his landing spot, he only just noticed that his Guardian Spear has thankfully been transported with him. Good, at least he had access to some rudimentary weaponry, albeit with limited ammunition. Picking up his Spear and his helm, he decided he's been stuffed inside of the thing for more than long enough. He knew that going without head protection was a tactically inept decision, but he was intending to keep a low profile anyway.

He began his march, moving away from the small beach respite he had found himself in, disguised yet at the same time blind to the environment beyond by two enormous sand dunes. Given what they tended to dictate however, he had suspicions on what kind of biome he would find himself in, suspicions which were confirmed once he made it past the dunes, stumbling upon a seemingly endless sea of desert. However, the Custodian knew there was more to this, as he surveyed the sky and witnessed the smallest hint of a column of smoke, his senses no less sharp than they had been prior to his incident it seemed. Taking his direction as set, he finally began the long walk towards whatever the source of the smoke was, making sure to never once pry his eyes away from his surroundings.

He was only just beginning to appreciate how harsh the sun was on this world. He must've landed during early morning, as the heat really became smoldering. It was thankful that the Emperor had built the Custodes to last. His instruments indicated that he had been walking for roughly 2 hours now, and yet no settlements were in sight. The pillar was always there however, and the smell of charred materials hung in the air, both growing evermore as he continued in his quest.

Almost agonizingly slowly, two more hours passed by. The sun was now in the middle of the sky, as the midday rays proved to be the most distressing yet. The environmental thermometer on his suit read of a scorching 70° C, and it seemed the heat was not going to die down any time soon. The oceans of sand gave way to little else to distract him, as nothing propped out of the bland, beige landscape save for the occasional rock and maybe a tiny specimen of alien fauna that he could not recognize.

Kronos found himself quite parched, though he supposed it was only natural. He hadn't exactly been preoccupied with eating or drinking during his unfortunate stay in the Warp, and that entire fiasco undoubtedly lasted a considerable amount of time. Custodes were designed with having superhuman endurance in mind, with some not needing to eat at all during even years, provided they stood mostly still and fell into a meditative state that had been one of the central points of their training, slowing their metabolism down to near death, yet still remaining alert enough to immediately jump into action.

Water was a different beast however, mostly because even a Custodian body, or indeed any human-based body, could not support reserves of it. In situations such as these, stranded and without assistance, his teachers had instructed of all basic necessities. Water was obviously chief among them, so on desert worlds which harbored an atmosphere, the first course of action was to follow the animals and the plants. Where there were those, there was water. However, Kronos could not simply follow one of the vaguely insectoid creatures that he had found scurrying around right now, so the black fumes in the sky remained his only lifeline. A lifeline that was beginning to thin out and disappear.

He quickened his pace, despite his body protesting of the boiling heat within his suit. Putting his helmet back on for more protection from the deadly rays, and at the same time to cool himself a tad more, he checked if the environmental control system was still online. He found that, disappointingly but perhaps predictability, outside of base needs such as oxygen, higher systems had malfunctioned. Damage report thankfully told of a likely-to-be easy fix up, however he had no time for that.

Walking for a further period of time he bothered not to check, he witnessed as the smoke cleared more and more, although he was making progress. The base of the pillar appeared closer, as much as most of time was dispersed at this point. Navigating around a more elevated area now, filled with numerous titanic dunes, he found himself face with a truly enormous one, raising at least 100 meters off the ground simply by eyeballing. The source of the the smoke seemingly lay just beyond it, and there were no other obvious passages he could sniff out. Taking one last look at the dune, Kronos hazarded a guess that he would simply have to brunt it. Preparing himself, shifting into a half-crouch, spear now strapped to his back, he knew he would have to be fast enough to counteract the sinking he would suffer due to the massive weight of his armor and yet slow enough to stop himself atop the dune to get a better view of his environment.

Tensing his muscles, he broke off into a sprint. Arriving at the foot of the massive sand mound, he launched himself a good fourth of it's height into the air, landing before pushing himself into a full run once again, the sand and the tilted angle of the dune constantly threatening to throw him off, until several second later he at last found himself at it's peak. Steadying himself, gravity constantly clawing at his feet, he at last saw the source of his beacon. A sight so joyous for his sore eyes, and at the same time morbidly intriguing.

A city. Or part of it, anyway. Imperial in design from the few buildings he could pick out, though extremely outdated and seemingly ancient. Possibly an ancient colony establishment. Capacity of a couple of million, if he had to guess. But of course, it's most notable feature was being utterly ruined. Blasted buildings littered it's landscape far more than standing ones did, bloody splatters could be viewed even from several kilometers away, as tiny as they were, and a good half of it was a charred hellhole likely only recently done burning if it's state and the plume of smoke that had guided him there was anything to go by. For any normal person, this city would serve as a harrowing bringer of hope from the desert, one where the opportunity of survival was greater but laced with far more dread generated by the simple state of it's being.

For Kronos, it was merely the start of his personal crusade in the Emperor's name. A quick respite and refueling station in the middle of this blasted heath where he would find the means of leaving this place and assisting his leader on Terra. Certainly, he would encounter nothing out of the ordinary here, aide from whatever poor, unfortunate barbarian human or xeno that had caused the devastation, which would be summarily cut down for wasting the Imperium's resources by his superior might. Certainly, even something like a small Eldar force would yield before a Custodian.

Then why was it that he still felt on edge as he proceeded towards it?

The city was close now, and he was beginning to notice distinguishing features. Shop signs, street labels, corpses. The roads were quite literally covered by them in some instances, a mix of colorful civilian garbs and drab military uniforms, all stained with crimson, strewn about and left to rot. Some were ritualistically mutilated, made into grotesque icons of flesh, while others had merely been slaughtered and left behind. He noted that as he got close enough to properly examine the bodies, those more unfortunate were at a slightly more advanced stage of decay. Something however, was driving him to wretch far worse than the gory display before him: the stench of the Warp hanging in the air.

Kronos furrowed his brow. Chaos, sacrifices, dead occupying force. There was certainly a connection between these things, but he could not yet be sure of it. The natives could simply be Chaos worshipers by culture, or they could have had secret cults, or perhaps something else entirely. But how could they act out in such a way in the open? Could a cult truly be so powerful as to break down civil law immediately, an absolute given if the technological progress of the city was to be taken into account, on this world? At the same time, the military force was of suspicion to him as well.

Recognizable, yet at the same time distant, it could perhaps be them who had brought the foul stench of the Warp upon the planet. Although they bore the mark of the Imperium upon their uniforms, there was no doubt several hundreds, if not thousands, of traitor regiments of the Imperial Army which had defected to the Warmaster's side during Kronos' entrapment in the Warp. And even though he could tell that some time had passed since his master had wiped the Arch-traitor's soul from existence, some traitors had undoubtedly remained.

Ultimately, it didn't matter at this point. He needed a way off the planet and a safe road to Terra. The Imperial Army and the Legio Astartes could handle whatever the Warp could thrown at them whenever they arrived, and he was needed elsewhere, at his Emperor's side. Taking his eyes off the macabre remnants, he advanced further into the city. More destruction, more death greeted him at every corner. But at the same time, he found himself mildly impressed by the little architecture that was still standing. Although certainly old, it had a classical, hard-edged aesthetic to it that was certainly very human. Yet, as he was on the cusp of having his thoughts wander once more, as he had often found himself doing since he had arrived here, he picked something up.

A fleeting sensation, as if a minuscule, dying flame beside his soul, whispers of feeling transmitted from it to him. He snapped to full readiness immediately, massive Guardian Spear being swung off it's magnetic hanger on his back, poised into a striking stance in barely a second, as he scouted the area for any trickery that could reveal itself. He waited, every muscle taut, tense and prepared to strike with the brunt force of a Land Raider and the precision of a sniper rifle. But...nothing came. The sensation did not got away, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary beyond it. After a minute of being on edge, he decided it would be unwise to halt his progress on a single hunch, no mater how nagging it was. As he came to one of the crossroads however, he found himself feeling closer to the burning ember, somehow. It was only at this moment that he realized what the fire could mean.

Almost certainly because of his direct contact with it, he seemed to have some sort of fifth sense towards the Warp now, if it's presence earlier was any indication. Perhaps, just maybe, could he detect Warp signatures as well? He knew nearly every human being had presence in the Warp, so perhaps he could use to find survivors? As wariness became curiosity and curiosity hope, he found himself drawing closer to the source of the shrinking presence, taking the path which led him to it. Along the way, more ruin and rot greeted him, but he could not focus on them right now. At last, arriving at a plaza, he felt the spark burn brightest here. But beyond the vague feeling that it was there, nothing else could be discerned about it. Scouring the place, wreckage and rubble obstructed potential hiding spots. He supposed he would just have to move everything out of the way and hope that in the process the spark could be uncovered.

Setting his spear beside him, always making sure to keep it within 3 meters of himself, he set to work on moving the larger chunks out of the way. Indistinguishable pieces of debris undoubtedly in the tens of tonnes at least were thrown about easily by the Custodian's strength. Nothing to be found, not even a trace or scrap of human existence. And the ember was burning out quickly. He began to grow concerned, until...

One particularly massive piece, hard to lift even for Kronos, gave way to reveal a figure. Still breathing, still living. Kronos rushed to their aid, removing any left over debris, picking them up in his arms. Female, mid-to-late twenties, black hair. Fair skin, est. height 1.7 meters. Armor corresponding to previous Army-like force. Taking a look slightly downward, he found the reason why the spark was burning out. Legs crushed to a pulp. Heavy internal and external bleeding. No chance of treatment or replacement with current capabilities. Finis Rerum recommended.

These thoughts were automated, robotic, as was the case when encountering any generic situation. Kronos' conscious mind however, recommended a different course of action. He had first and foremost, a duty to allow her to decide for herself. And secondly, he required information about his current whereabouts. All Custodian suits came equipped with stimulative drugs, for only the most dire battles. As he popped a small compartment open with one hand, firmly holding the woman up with the other, he figured that a smaller, controlled dosage would be safe for regular human consumption as well, both awakening her from her trauma-induced slumber and or possible coma, while simultaneously numbing the pain, preventing her from being reduced to crying, screaming mess incapable of speech the second she was woken.

Setting his rescue down for a moment, he examined the vial, popping it open.. A whole gulp was designed to send even his already robust system into overdrive, so it was all she could possibly take. As gently as possible, he opened her mouth and dripped the few drops of the precious liquid directly into her throat. Given that she could still breathe, albeit barely, he was hoping she would not choke accidentally. Minutes passed. The air became tense, as nothing could be sensed in the spark. And just as he was beginning to lose hope, he detected twitching. Movement. Voluntary. Impossible for unconscious and/or comatose humans.

Slowly but surely, she began rousing. Her breathing became more ragged, as her body's oxygen requirements increased due to the drug. Realizing he should probably give her some space, he moved away from her, and removed his helm. When this woman came to, finding her legs crushed and her fate sealed, she didn't need to see an armored, stoic killing machine. She needed another human being, one that could appear sympathetic. As she opened her blue eyes, unwavering brown orbs stared back at her, distant, yet seemingly with good intentions. She could only gasp when she took note of the rest of his body, an armored giant clad in a mighty, golden warsuit. It couldn't possibly be one of them. She had only heard of them in vague whispers, spoken of in reverence second only to the God-Emperor they guarded. And yet...

"Hello, madam. I am Kronos Praesul, of the 41st Shield-Company of the Legio Custodes," The impossible always seemed to be bent to it's logical limits whenever a child of the Emperor was involved. "And your designation is?"

"Um, Sophine. Sophine B-Berner, 456th Atropha Trooper re-" she suddenly spat out blood. He had less time than he thought. "M-my legs. They're..."

"Irreversibly damaged, I'm afraid. Replaceable with cybernetics or prosthetics, but I have not the capacity for such operation, nor the ability to treat you at this time. I am sorry to say, Miss Sophine, but you are most certainly going to die here."

She was silent for a short while after that, staring at some fixed point in front of her. When she raised her head again, a solemn determined look grazed her features, as she sighed. "Damn it. I suppose it's what I signed up for. I was hoping for something a bit more glorious than bleeding out, but I guess one can't be picky about how they die."

"You seem strangely calm despite the situation," Kronos reminded himself that she was running on borrowed time, and conversing for more than necessary would be inadvisable.

"I suppose worrying about death never really...stuck with me. Most of my family though I would die at 3," she coughed again, more blood coming on. He could see her getting woozy. The amount of stimulant in her system mattered little when the fluid spreading it was running out. "It doesn't even hurt much to be honest."

"That is a special drug I have administered. Without it, you would be comatose. And in extreme pain."

"O-oh. How long do I have?"

"Minutes, if I could hazard a guess," It was time to get his questions out of the way, before it was too late. "Miss, I must ask you a few questions about our current location and the state of affairs here. Consider it as your last service of sorts to the Imperium."

"A-anything, my lord."

"What planet am I on? What is going on? Why is the city in ruin?"

"Sors, my lord. The planet was just one another Civilized World until the-the..."

She began falling back. The Custodian rushed to her aid. Damn it, I'm out of time.

"Until what, Sophine?"

Visibly struggling to breathe now, she could barely get out a whisper. "U-until the-e In-ci-dent..."

The drug was wearing it out, and so was her body. But she would likely experience an enormous amount of pain before she was gone. "I will now administer Finis Rerum. Is this acceptable for you?"

The look she gave him was confused at first, but after several seconds, on the verge of tears from the pain, she gave her last message: a nod.

Reaching into his belt, Kronos pulled out his Misericordia. A weapon specifically designed for executions as well as marking the Custodes superiority over all Imperial law save the Emperor himself, the woman held onto Kronos as he approached. A flash of fear was seen on her eyes, but the Custodian gave a reaffirming nod. It would be painless compared to what she was going through.

He held the blade in front of the heart. He did no desire to deface her, so that would have to do. The death would be slower than he'd like, but still faster and less painful than if he'd simply let her be. With a hard thrust, Kronos plunged the blade into her heart before pulling it back again. It was a mere minute or so before the light bled out from her eyes entirely, almost the same time as the last of the blood dripped away.

Her face was unreadable, but Kronos chose to believe it was neutral, and therefore accepting.

The grave was shallow. Rudimentary, with nothing but a fragment of a basalt building foundation to mark it. Her name was engraved in it in, scribbled slightly roughly due to him carving it out with his Spear. The thought of simply using his own armored fingers to achieve a more elegant result had escaped him at the time, and now it hardly mattered.

Sophine Berner. He had not had the time to ever inspect the woman beyond the extremely short lived conversation they had had. But from what he could gather, she had been a defiant combatant to the bitter end, if her entombment in the pile of rubble, her subsequent brief survival of said entombment and her fearless attitude towards her own death were anything to go by. As such, he felt confident in giving a final salute. Giving the Imperial Aquila, he stood so for a minute. It was a small gesture, one that a part of his mind judged idiotic, in that no one was there to witness it. Yet something spurred him on, and as he left the grave site to attend to other more pressing matters, he was still conflicted within himself. But only just.

His doubts had to be cast aside for the foreseeable future, as the encounter had not yielded him with any respite, nor any solution to his previous problems. He still had no idea where exactly he was, he had no clue as to what had happened to the planet outside of his own observations and he still didn't have any access to sustenance. The chance meeting had distracted him from his previous parched state for a while, but now it was back in full swing as he felt a burning itch clawing at his throat, a desperate cry from his body to supply it with it's essentials.

But he had been built from the ground up to defy his own biology with sheer willpower. It would have to wait. Now that one had been found, the notion of other survivors was entirely plausible, if not probable. They could harbor supplies, shelter, communication. They could also be entirely hostile Chaos worshipers or deserters for all he knew, but did that truly matter? If a bunch of normal humans were to raise arms against a Custodian, then so be it. He would achieve what he wanted, whether through diplomacy or force, all that was important was actually finding some of said survivors. To do that, he would need to search the entirety of the city, as expansive as it was, down to the last millimeter. Ignoring any protest his mind or body might raise for rest and recovery if need be.

Putting his helmet back on, he set forth on his task. Checking everywhere easily accessible first seemed like the optimal idea. Sophine couldn't have been under that collapsed building for a long amount of time, her wounds were simply too severe for her to remain alive for any significant period, meaning that a military force had to have been dispatched here around or after the time he had arrived, which would also explain the recent burning of the city and the freshly spilled carnage he had encountered. The entire invading Imperial force couldn't have been wiped out. Or, at the very least, that's what he hoped. Of course, the traitor argument still existed, and it was entirely plausible he had honored a traitor with.

No. That woman was no traitor. Kronos was not the best judge of character. As a Custodian, it was something cultivated into him, as the Emperor's bodyguards needed also to be his eyes and ears, but other people, even his own brethren, were not his forte. But there was something he had seen in that woman, the resolve in her eyes, that convinced him she wouldn't betray the Imperium in a thousand years. However, it did not hold much importance in the long run, traitor or not, where there would be survivors, there would be the means to replenish himself and getting off this planet.

The few streets that still retained labels were marked in a language he did not recognize. The planet name, Sors, was also one not present either in his suits database, or his own memory. An Imperial world only recently brought into compliance perhaps? Then again, it's not like he possessed knowledge of every single Imperial world in existence. That was quite frankly impossible, even for his superhuman mind. So perhaps it was just another world out of thousands, one entirely random save for "the incident" Sophine had mentioned with her dying breath.

Side note: Stop musing to myself so much. Would have probably gotten far more done were that not a factor. Ignoring the irony of once again musing to himself with this mental statement, he decided to continue down one of the streets and see where he ended up after that. He didn't exactly have much choice but to randomly choose. Picking one on the right, he strode through more ruined buildings and piles of rubble, though the absence of corpses was at least a small relief. Eventually, he came upon an arch, an impressively large white marble construct delicately engraved with flowers. It led to a sprawling expanse, a city center most likely, filled with exquisitely crafted sculpture, of those that had not been blown to bits.

An art center perhaps? Or merely a city park? It mattered little as he surveyed the area, mapping out key buildings that could potentially harbor forces that had decided to bunker down and wait for reinforcements that would likely not come in time. Yet, all buildings nearby seemed to be compromised, burning wrecks. He could not understand what force was so terrible as to cause most likely an Imperial force to commit such wholesale destruction upon the city.

As he maneuvered through the center however, a nagging feeling began building in the back of his mind. He was being watched. Kronos could not confirm this, but he knew it was there, a preternatural precognition of something to come. But surely if any other humans were in the vicinity he would feel it as he had Sophine, right? He decided to keep moving. There was no time to waste on false flags his mind may be raising. He would simply have to keep an eye on his back at all times. He proceed through another street, similarly adorned with another arch, one of a masterfully crafted but distinct design. This street was narrower, and even with the heavy ordnance and promethium wounds of the rest of the city, could easily be set apart as some sort of slum. Derelict buildings littered it, squalor and filth "shone" through even the blasted heath that it was. Tactical positions were even less plentiful here, but one thing he found to increased: his sense of wariness.

As he moved through the ruined neighborhood, his senses were on edge. He stopped in his tracks, Spear settled to his side. He still couldn't see anything of note, he still could not hear any living breath, and even his newfound Warp sense betrayed nothing, yet that nagging itch in the back of his skull was still there. He knew he couldn't stay in the same place, it would accomplish nothing, but at the same time he could be leaving himself wide open for an attack.

And so he stood still, immobile, knowingly committing one of the biggest tactical blunders one could hope to make, all in his indecisiveness. That is, until an idea spiked. Being on the ground was the worst possible choice if that presence was indeed something more than his half-crazed, Warp-damaged, dehydrated mind. So, he'd simply have to take to the rooftops, and that's exactly what he set out to do. Storing the Guardian Spear on his back, he looked for a chain of buildings that was stable enough, before digging his armored fist onto the wall. As he pulled himself up, his right foot took place in the established hole, as he made another one for his left arm and subsequently, foot.

Right, left, right, left, all the way to the top. He could've simply launched himself, it was after all a short for one such as himself, but that would just be giving out his position to any potential enemies. Speaking of which, the sensation had not yet amended itself. But at least here he was far less likely to be caught off guard and without cover, unlike being in the middle of a demolished street.

As he surveyed the area, looking for any potential flanking routes, ways to maneuver around the ruined canopy of buildings and scouting any other possible shelters that could've been repurposed as such by any civilian or military groups, he felt something else: the now familiar spark of a dim flame in the back of his mind. It moved back into the emptiness of air as soon as it appeared, but now he had confirmation, he was indeed being watched. By whom, or perhaps what, he did not know yet. The extra sense only seemed to give off the presence of another sentient being to him, providing little else in terms of information. He turned his head in the vague direction where he had felt the sensation at it's strongest. I suppose I will simply have to investigate far more...directly.

He scuttled behind a large access door that looked much like a shed, hiding his full bulk from the building where he suspected his stalker was viewing him from. Triangulating position based off a vague metaphysical sense that he still had little understanding over was...hard. But said building was the best suspect, as it provided a vantage point to follow down the streets and on the rooftops as well. Using his temporary cover, he dashed to edge of the building, making sure to remain within the cover of the shed. As he reached it, he threw himself over the edge, using his armored fingers to get a crushing grip on the concrete, before sliding down the side of the building.

The matter of getting down unnoticed seemed to have gone smoothly. Now it was just a matter of getting to the building he suspected his stalker would be surveying. He surely would not stick around without a target and would change position soon enough. But simply running at a potential threat was an idiotic choice that could very well end in them running away the second they spotted him. In the still remaining infrastructure, they would still possess the home field advantage, and could potentially slip through. So the only way to go about it was making himself as undetectable as possible.

Shining gold plated armor did not leave much in the way of camouflage options. Thankfully for him, much of it while not dulled, was already stained by the enormous amount of dust present in the general atmosphere thanks to the numerous collapsed building, burning wrecks and the location of the city itself, smack dab in the middle of a massive desert. Taking this to his advantage, the Custodian laid on the ground, covering himself in as much dirt as possible, and began inching away at his target.

Slow enough not to provoke a response from most human eyes centered there, but fast enough to not run out of time should his potential benefactor/target decided to change position. After what seemed like an eternity he made it to the foot of the building where he had suspected said unknown individual to be, and sure enough, his new Warp sense practically blared into his skull. He carefully raised himself to his feet, as he got prepared himself for a jump. They would hardly be expecting an ambush at this point. Or maybe they were, but he frankly didn't care. He was tired of sneaking around.

Tensing his legs, he launched himself a good 10 meters into the air, before landing on the roof with a heavy thud, concrete cracking underneath hundreds of kilograms of bone, muscle and armor. His arrival was greeted by a shrill scream and a dry crack. Kronos saw the projectile heading towards him, practically in slow motion. But he decided to ignore it. Judging by the make, it would bounce off his armor anyway. And so it did, a metallic clang being felt somewhere around his midsection. Probably didn't even scratch the paint.

His assailer was not the least bit more impressive. Short, thinly built, wearing an oversized Army helmet and a drab uniform, an unimpressive low caliber shotgun pointed straight at his face now. Wait...

"STAY THE HELL BACK!"

That confirmed it. A child. Likely a girl. How she had survived this long, however much "this long" was, he did not care to know right now. Chances were that she had everything he needed at the moment, save possibly the communication given that she was still stuck here. The Custodian made an effort to appear less threatening. He stored his Spear on his back, and slackened his posture. She kept her shotgun pointed at him. He exhaled mentally. If people were not his forte, kids were an especially bad case. An extremely awkward silence was his only companion in his own ineptitude. Hesitantly taking a step forward, he was not surprised by what followed:

"I SAID STAY AWAY ASSHOLE!" The grip on the shotgun tightened.

Good grief, who was responsible for educating this child? He supposed the response was to be expected, no one could survive in these conditions without being cautiously paranoid to some degree, especially if there were other survivors. Reaching for his helm, he quickly undid the locking mechanism. He supposed he would have to make himself seem vulnerable to appease her. Not that such a low caliber gun could even pierce his skin, but nonetheless:

"I mean you no harm, child."

"HA, I've heard that one before. You think I'd survive this long if I trusted every random dickhead that decided to try the nice approach?" he did not appreciate being called that, but at the very least the child's posture seemed to be exuding less open hostility and stress. "Who are you anyway? You're definitely not part of the Guard, and you look too much like a banana to be a Space Marine."

"I would appreciate it if you did not continue with the nicknames."

"I'm the one holding the gun here, Mr. Banana Head. Now answer the damn question."

Kronos frowned. This child was beginning to anger him. Yet, he supposed he had no other choice. "I am Kronos Praesul, Guardsman of the 41st Shield-Company of the Legio Custodes."

Her entire tone shifted drastically at this. "As in...the Talons of the Emperor? Far as ma and pa told me, you guys are just a legend."

"Well, I can assure you little one that we are very much real, in case my existence here was not proof enough. Now, if you may tell me your name?"

"...Mira. Mira Ragt."

This child appeared to prefer some sort of higher respect. He had seen this archetype many times during his training on infiltration. Tomboyish, aloof, arrogant. The best choice he had right now was to stroke that ego ever so slightly to achieve what he wanted. He decided to extend his hand, a gesture of respect he wouldn't afford most other normal humans in any other circumstance. Reluctant at first, she at last decided to lower her gun, and approach him, shaking it feebly with her own.

"This don't mean we're friend though, got it Banana?"

"I believe I disclosed that you can refer to me as Kronos."

"Yeah, well that's stupid name. Anyway, since you had the courtesy," she removed her, likely, stolen Army helmet. Red hair, freckles, blue eyes, fair skin, young. No more than 13 years old he would wager. "Don't sneak up on me like that again though. Seriously, I will shoot you. How'd you even do that? You're like 9 feet tall."

"The Custodian program is...expansive in fields. Mira, if you may, can you take us back to your base of operations?"

"Wow, there. "Base of operations"? I'm not that good."

Children...really weren't his strong suit. "You realize what I meant."

"Yeah, I did. But you're far too sulky."

"I...do not wish to continue this argument. May you please take us there? I presume you have some resources left over, correct?"

"You better believe I do. I looted a fresh company just the other week, and I am packing with rations!"

Kronos frowned at the revelation. "You looted an entire company of corpses?"

The girl's bright cheery, exterior melted away in an instant, leaving a blank expression, as her eyes diverted to the floor. "It's...easier when you don't look at their faces."

Kronos nodded. Perhaps he was mistaken at first. This child had clearly been through hell, and the fact that she was still alive and retained a portion of her attitude spoke volumes about her mental strength.

"Anyway," she raised her eyes again, but her smile did not return. "The place where I'm staying at is not far from here. So, I guess we should go?"

He nodded. "Staying out in the open is not a good idea anyway."

He moved to the edge of the building, as Mira gave him an inquisitive look.

"What are you doing?"

He grabbed onto the ledge, swinging himself mid-air to be grasping on the outer wall.

"Getting us off this building. Come?"

"Are you crazy?!"

"I can easily carry you. I will not descend quickly enough to cause you to slip off," he extended his hand. "Trust me."

Wary at first, the little girl slowly approached the armored hand, gently taking it as she climbed up on his back.

"You better be right about this, Banana Man."

Kronos might've slid down to the ground a bit faster than he ought've for that nickname. As he crouched to let his new companion hop off, her face betrayed nothing, but her eyes said fear. He allowed himself the tiniest of smirks. But any semblance of humor was lost on both of them as he followed her to the presumed hideout. As they walked, Kronos was reminded about one important thing he had yet to acquire.

"Mira, what exactly happened here? Why is the city in ruin? Why are you on your own?"

Mira became obviously uncomfortable at these questions.

Author's notes: FUCKHUEG chapter for you chaps because I just hate/love you that much (depends on your opinion of the fic really). Kronos finally makes some friends, ye. Although, he's still not very good at you know, having actual human talk and all. He'll get better, probably. Or maybe he won't and die a horrible death. Who knows? This fic is about as predictable as Tzeentch, but only when it comes to it's update schedule.

As always, I am not teh expert on Battlemace 40 Million, so feel free to correct me. On that note, reviews are very much appreciated and please you guys, it's been 84 years, I need my ego destroyed by mean comments, so go do that.

Anyway, that's kinda it for this chapter. I'm just glad to have it done, because this is way longer than what I usually put out. This is your resident boner joker signing off.

9/4/2019 update: Fixed a few things, and made the structure a bit less unwieldy.