Chapter 3: The Dog Bites Back

Far below Capital Spire's gleaming boulevards and lush gardens, the splendour swiftly eroded into grime, rust, the glowing sunlight changing to harsh service lamps, and wide streets became dark alcoves.. Down here, society and human decency had degraded into a level more fitting for vermin. The gutter rats scavenged while the hive gangers plundered. Down here, only the strong survived for very long. But even the hardiest hive gangers scattered at the sound of marching footsteps. It could only be one of two things, neither of which agreed with the social food chain.

A band of guardsmen picked their way through the refuse strewn pathways. They were Vendolanders, their green armour emblazoned with the 85th Regiment's colours. The smart ones knew to leave the imperials alone. The idiots lasted seconds. These were men who had fought hand to hand with Tyranids and come out standing.

Motioning for the group to stop, Sergeant Gren climbed the scrap pile to where their spotter stood, eyes glued to his binoculars. A sliver of sky broke the dark metal ceiling. The trooper passed his binoculars to Gren.

"Looks to be less than two hundred meters up, sir," said corporal Kreyn. "I reckon we just need to find a service elevator and we can get back to the surface."

"It will be nice to see the sun again," said Gren. They had been down here a week, making the long trek from Angel Forge. The subway tram they had been riding on had crashed, leaving the men walking through the dangerous underground warrens. It had cost them some good men.

"Do you think the message made it through to the Governor?" asked Flinn. "Did reinforcements actually arrive?"

"I don't know, lad," said Gren. "But we will deliver the message anyways, with or without a vox blackout. Come on, men, it's just a short while longer. Let's be ready to greet our visitors."

Once the lift was out of sight, the gutter rats poured out of the woodwork. A runner, no older than ten, darted from cover to cover, sticking to the shadows. A few turns, a couple ladders and drops, and he vanished into the dark bowels of the spire. The service lamps offered enough light to see, but not enough to stop him from running into the man's back.

The man, if he could be considered that, grabbed the child roughly and lifted him to eye level. The skin of his face had been flayed off, and his eyes were buried under layers of cataracts. "What do you want, runt?" it growled. "The Eye isn't to be disturbed, especially not by little shits like yourself."

"Bu-but, I was told to tell him if I saw anything!" stammered the runner. "Please! He told me himself!"

"Oh did he now?" said the man, mockingly. "Well, then, that changes everything, doesn't it? Do you honestly expect me to believe something like that, runt? Even I'm not allowed to see The Eyes. He doesn't see anyone who isn't a Hound. You're not even shit worth stepping in. Stop wasting my time. He didn't send for you."

"As a matter of fact, I did."

The guard felt a shiver run down his spine, his blood turning to ice in seconds. He dropped the child, his hands too shaken to hold him. The child scrambled backwards as black tendrils struck out of the darkness, enveloping the man and lifting him off the ground. Heavy, metallic footsteps echoed from the dark. A pair of glowing red pupils were all the child could see of The Eye. "And, if I might add, his information is worth more to my cause than your pathetic excuse for security."

Before the man could scream, his neck was snapped by the tendrils, and he was tossed aside. "I grow tired of waiting in these shadows, whelp. What can you tell me? Stand where I can see you. That's better. Now speak, or join him in death. I am sure the body count shall rise soon enough."

The boy glanced nervously at the twitching corpse. "It's ready, my lord. Please, don't kill me, please. I, I also saw more of the Imperials moving through the city."

The Eye's expression was hidden in shadow, but his glare shone brightly. "They've reconnected with their allies at the Forge then?"

"I don't think so. It was just one group, no more than twenty or so. They said something about more coming, from off world."

"It is no consequence, retch, it just means more for us to kill. You said everything was ready? Then we must strike now. I will have Derosa's head before that fool Zephus. Tell your rabble to move, I shall ready the Hounds. By the day's end, Meridian will have her old Governor returned. And you will have your life back, child. All of you."

Up top, Elliah and Fenn were leaning against a sandbag wall at the far end of the palace boulevards. Polris was on the vox with Captain Melner, while Manrey just stared out across the cityscape. Valkyrie contrails arced across the sky, trailing after their hosts as they funneled supplies down from the Gregorian, still holding over the city, and casting a welcoming shade. For a spire so high off the ground, it was surprisingly warm.

A brown parcel landed in her lap. Roland and Jurek hopped into the emplacement, tossing more packages at Fenn and Manrey. "Come on, eat up. Like the Primer says: 'Do not waste what the Emperor provides.' Or something along those lines, right?"

Fenn shifted his helmet further down over his eyes. "Couldn't tell you," he said flatly. "I lost interest about halfway through and started drawing pictures."

Roland laughed. "I certainly hope it wasn't on the page you were told not to write on," He and Jurek peeled open their parcels. "It's spiced grox. Some local recipe, I think."

"Where did you get this stuff?" said Elliah, cutting a piece with her knife.

"We 'liberated' it from a storehouse," Roland said, smirking. "I consider it spoils of war.

Fenn pushed his helmet further down his nose. "It's too hot up here," he complained "We're what, two miles up? I thought it'd be cooler. I feel like I'm running a grain harvester during the dry season."

"Apparently, it's something to do with the heat distribution," said Roland between bites. "This void shield's generator kicks up a lot of heat and then it gets caught inside the barrier. The refugees told me they usually vent it once a day to keep everything bearable. If you think it's bad up here, apparently in the lower levels can get so hot that the exhaust can melt rockcrete."

"Well then, install a couple bloody air conditioners, or put us in the Hab building over there. Why should we sit out here in the sun waiting for people to start shooting at us?"

"They're going to vent in a few minutes, stop complaining."

A loud creaking sound interrupted the argument. All the Artemians swung their rifles around to the disturbance. An old, rickety service elevator built into the Hab building rose out of the metal girders. The Guardsmen trained their rifles on the doors, waiting. The elevator opened, revealing around twenty men in Vendolander colours. Both sides dropped their aim when they noticed the Imperial Eagle.

The group of Vendolanders approached hesitantly. One stepped forward. "Corporal Kreyn, 85th Vendoland, 7th Company. Identify yourselves."

Polris spoke. "Sergeant Polris, 31st Artemian, 1st Battalion. We're here to help."

"Well, I'm glad someone's here, at least. This is Sergeant Heris Gren, our NCO. We're looking for the Sergeant Major."

"He should be back at the complex, Corporal," said Polris. "You probably know your way around better than we do. Why didn't you radio in?"

Gren approached Polris. "Vox silence, Colonel's orders. How long have you been here?"

"A few hours," said Polris. "We've got the whole area covered. It should be safe to walk around here."

"Heh, on Meridian, nowhere is safe," said Gren, grinning. "Kreyn, take the rest of the squad ahead. Flinn and I will catch up. I want to go over some things with Polris here."

Kreyn nodded. "If you say so sir, just don't take too long. Men, move out." The Vendolanders marched off down the boulevard towards the complex's tower.

The rafters and gantries shuddered from the passing footsteps. The light was growing brighter, finding more spaces to bleed through the spire's metal skin. The upper levels were close now. Behind the gutter rat, the multitudes of vermin rose through the tunnels and chasms, writhing towards the surface like a boil bursting through pallid flesh.

A cargo lift was up ahead, guarded by a pair of PDF troopers. They didn't last long. The gutter rat looked back to the others, the ragged, the hungry, the desperate, the enslaved. No longer, the Eye would let them go, give them their world back. His promise, his word, he wouldn't go back on it now.

As the lift rose, the boy looked through the metal gate at the passing levels. Just below the street, he could see them at work, black and gold armored warriors, their arms filled with explosives. The Hounds of Vandis themselves were here to help.

Two of Polris's troopers had returned with more ammunition. Gren watched while Flinn hesitantly tried to speak with them.

"He does seem persistent, sergeant," said Roland.

Gren shrugged. "Ah, he'll learn. He's like a son to me. I'll watch out for him and my boys, but some things he needs to learn on his own."

"Like how to talk to women?"

"Precisely," said Gren. He looked the Artemians up and down. "You're new to this, aren't you? I can tell if a regiment is on its first deployment. Your armour is still clean, for one thing. And you carry yourselves differently. You almost seem too optimistic."

Roland shifted forward. "You're suggesting we be miserable instead?"

"No, nothing of the sort, lad, I'm just saying that it's easy to tell you are new bloods. Give it time and a few life or death struggles and you'll understand what I mean."

"If you say so," said Roland, but the doubt was clear in his voice. Gren slapped him on the back before rising up. He nodded towards Sergeant Polris and started to leave.

"Come on Flinn, you can try your luck at the Bunker later. Kreyn's getting away from us." Flinn blushed as he hastily said goodbye to Ariana and Enalya, darting after Gren as he walked away.

They hadn't made it ten feet before the explosion struck. The two Vendolanders were thrown off their feet by the blast. Several more explosions ripped up the street, engulfing Kreyn and the others.

Elliah instinctively ducked. Autogun fire ripped through the dust choked air. She was soon aware of her hands moving, instinctively switching off the Lasgun's safety catch and bringing it up into a firing position. Roland and Fenn had done the same, while Jurek had hopped on the Heavy Bolter and was scanning for targets.

Making a mad dash for the squad, Gren and Flinn dived over the sandbags. Gren landed hard beside Roland, already bringing his lasgun up over the rim, firing into the distance. "Heads down, guns up, and be ready to move!" he shouted, immediately taking control of the group.

Screams could be heard above the gunfire. Thick, white smoke cascaded along the streets like a wave of water, swiftly passing over them. Polris swore, tossing his vox speaker aside. "The damned line is dead! Some sort of interference. I can't get through to command. We have to call this one in." Dozens of figures were starting to move through the clouds, firing erratically as they rushed towards the Guard lines.

"Sergeant, they'll know soon enough," said Gren, firing more shots into the cloud. "The Hounds drop smoke bombs before a charge. Start shooting!" Several figures moving through the fog dropped to the barrage of fire from the lasguns and the heavy bolter. Inhuman wails rose above the sound of the shots as the horde swarmed past them. They weren't stopping, but they weren't targeting them either.

Elliah and Flinn continued pouring shots into the crowd. They weren't soldiers, she realized. Just a mob, armed with whatever they could get their hands on. They were cut down by the dozens, but there were hundreds more backing them up. Enalya shouted that the vox caster was working again. Reports were flooding in, all repeating the same thing: hordes of cultists, charging into Guard positions and sweeping towards the central complex.

Colonel Nolt's voice erupted from the speaker. "Attention, 1st Battalion, fall back to secondary positions at checkpoints Primaris, Secundus and Tertius! 2nd Battalion units, move forward to reinforce and provide covering fire. Outer defenses, fall back to checkpoints, I repeat, fall back to checkpoints!"

"Death to the usurpers!" cried the cultists. "For the glory of House Vandis, for our freedom!"

Sneering at the cultists, Gren leveled his gun. He dropped a half dozen more cultists as they dropped into the trench, finishing off the last with his bayonet. He pointed to the Hab block hugging the sidewalk of the boulevard. "We'll have more cover inside, and we can filter them into choke points as we work our way back. Go by pairs, we'll cover! Go!"

Elliah and Jurek broke for the entry as the rest of the squad unleashed volleys of dissuading las fire at the cultists. She kept her head down and ran as fast as she could for the entrance, willing herself to go faster with every step. The sound of autogun rounds whizzing past her frayed her nerves, but she somehow made it across the open stretch unscathed. Jurek slammed into the wall beside her.

The rest of the group followed, quickly jumping through the open hatchway, their footsteps trailed by gunfire. Gren threw Flinn through the door just before he dived through. "Shut it now!" he shouted. Roland quickly hit the door panel, and the heavy metal hatchway sealed shut. The dark skinned man then took his bayonet and jammed it into the controls.

"That should keep it shut, for now." he said.

Flinn shook his head. "Not for long. We've got to keep moving. If the dogs have somehow gotten inside the Void Shield, a door won't stop them."

"We take things one step at a time, lad," said Gren. "We regroup at the checkpoint and go from there."

"Well, what are we waiting for then, old man?" shouted Fenn. "They'll find another way in."

"Show some respect, private," snapped Polris, "He's right, Sergeant. They'll dog our footsteps all the way back to the checkpoint unless we deal with them now. Any ideas?"

Gren looked around the entry hatch. A smile grew across his weathered face. "Give me all your grenades, explosives, anything that will make a bang. Here, Flinn, you take half." Taking a melta charge, Gren slapped the device onto the hatch, running a wire from the busted access console to the charge. "You'll learn a few tricks fighting the dogs. Funny thing is, they never learned how to counter their own traps. Head inside, Flinn and I'll catch up."

Further inside, the Artemians entered a large foyer. A balcony overlooked the ground floor, which was dominated by a large wooden desk, covered with artificier systems. A lone servitor, long forgotten, continued to type on the broken consoles, unaware of the guardsmen's appearance. Gren and Flinn jogged up behind them.

"Ah perfect," said Gren, eying the servitor. "Flinn, toss me a melta will you? Thanks. Get the bombs planted around the doorway, will you? Sergeant Polris, get your troopers into position on the balcony."

Polris nodded. "Understood, Roland, Elliah, top center, Fenn and I will take the left stairwell. Ariana, Enalya, flank the doors, Jurek and Manrey, provide cover from the desk."

Two minutes later, everything was set. Elliah peered over the balcony railing. There was a muffled banging noise, followed by a loud bang. Gren's first booby trap must have gone off. The cultists would be here in moments. She tensed, gripping her lasgun tighter as she waited. Shouting voices grew louder. "Get that door open, whelp! Your lives aren't worth the rags you're wearing! If there's another bomb, you shits will take it, not us!"

Behind the desk, Gren glanced over at Jurek and Manrey. It was typical Hound behaviour, sending the cultists in to sweep for explosives and take the brunt of the killing. The Hounds would follow up and clean house. Gren hoped that their little traps would be enough to hold them off.

Bang. The doors were blown open, and a dozen ragged cultists stormed into the room. Boom, the first bomb, hidden beneath a pile of trash was activated by the ignorant dogs tripping the wire. Three cultist troops were shredded by the frag grenade bundle. Then all hell broke loose. Flinn and Gren, hidden behind the desk, grabbed hold of the servitor and lifted the protesting construct into the air, tossing it into the crowd of disorganized Cultists, still reeling from the blast.

Boom. The servitor detonated, the melta pack turning the construct into a superhot projectile. Another two cultists were vaporized by the intense heat. The Artemians finally opened fire. The Cultists were torn apart in seconds, failing to get a shot off before the Guardsmen picked them off. There was a brief respite. Then, the Hounds charged. Caught unaware by their speed, Ariana and Enalya were killed before they had a chance to shoot. The black carapace armoured troops lobbed a flurry of grenades into the room.

The explosives splintered the desk, leaving the four soldiers exposed to the traitors. "Covering fire! Troopers, fall back." shouted Polris. The troopers on the balcony opened up, forcing the Hounds to dive for whatever shelter they could gather. Jurek and Manrey obliged Polris's order, but Gren and Flinn had something different in mind. Elliah watched the two run at the Hounds. What are they doing, she thought.

Gren body slammed his target into the wall. Taking the stock of his lasgun, he bashed in the dog's faceplate before shooting him in the chest point blank. One of the remaining three Vandis dogs turned his aim towards the two Vendoland troops, but before he could get off a shot, his body was filled with lasgun punctures from Roland's precise shooting. The other two were swiftly dispatched by shots from Jurek and Fenn. The entire engagement had lasted twenty seconds. Flinn looked through the doorway. "It's clear. No more hostiles."

Polris sighed in relief. "Report, who have we lost?"

Jurek checked the two downed soldiers. He looked up, shaking his head. "Ariana and Enalya are dead, sir. Two down, the rest walking."

Polris looked downtrodden. "I see. Corporal, mark their loss in the charts. Grab what you can off them." The Artemians nodded and began to gather the equipment off their fallen comrades. Gren gave Polris a sympathetic look, and put a hand on his shoulder plate.

"Don't think it gets any easier," he said quietly. "It never does."

Merrick was on his feet with his Hellgun trained on the door the moment the alarm klaxon began wailing. The meeting with Derosa and Tullassar's retinue felt like it had gone on forever, and the alarm had come as a shock.

"What is that noise?" asked Zerick nervously. The fat scribe was somehow soaked in sweat despite the cold air system keeping the room at a refreshing temperature. "Are we under attack? I thought you said we were safe, Governor!" he wailed.

The rest of the Daredevils followed Merrick's lead, taking cover behind furniture and aiming their weapons towards the entrance as well.

"We have a perimeter breach, scribe," answered Wadden, "anything gets inside the building without clearance, the whole system goes off."

"But that means they could be here at any moment! We have to move somewhere safe. A panic room, an underground bunker, anything! Why don't you-" Zerick received a swift smack by General Derim, knocking the rotund man to the floor.

"Zerick, perhaps we should send you first. I'm sure your incessant blubbering will draw their attention away from the high value targets." Tullassar turned to Derosa. "With your leave, madam, I should like to deal with this matter."

Derosa agreed. "Indeed, General. Good luck and Emperor be with you." The governor looked at the General's retinue. "I shall take you to my safe room, gentlemen. Follow me."

Merrick smiled at the general. "I may just come to like you yet sir."

"Don't push your luck sergeant major. You are just as disposable as the rest." retorted Tullassar. "My Commissar shall stay behind to ensure you and the retinue remain safe, Governor."

"I understand, General." nodded Derosa, before turning to Merrick. "Sergeant Merrick, ensure the safety of the Spire."

"With pleasure ma'am, we'll do our best, like always. Daredevils, move out! We'll clear this building room by room if we have to!"

Tullassar brandished an ornate bolt pistol and a power sabre. Flanking either side of the door, the Daredevils, activated the access panel, and rushed into the room. No hostiles, but several whimpering scribes, cowering beneath their desks. Moving swiftly, Merrick's troops and Tullassar worked their way through the level finding no signs of any Vandis traitors.

Merrick activated his vox channel. "Ma'am, this is Sergeant Merrick. This level is clear. We're going to scour the lower floors."

"Understood Sergeant, proceed with caution," responded Derosa. "General, your Colonel has sent out a distress signal. A large cultist force is engaging your forces along the Capital Gardens. I've put the Arbites forces on full alert. They will aide your sweeps."

"Governor, if you have a vox link to Colonel Nolt, tell him I want a two companies inside on the double, clearing floors upwards. We will meet in the middle."

A moment passed. Derosa spoke, "Message sent General. I will patch Colonel Nolt through to you personally so he may keep you updated."

"Thank you, Governor. Sergeant Major, proceed. We have wasted enough time on this flor already." Derim strode towards the elevator bank. Merrick might have had faith in Derosa's ability to keep building functions operational, but he was still hesitant to step into a metal box during a crisis when there were perfectly good stairs. But then the thought of clearing out fifteen hundred levels diving deep into the underhive stairwell by stairwell made the decision for him. The Daredevils piled into the lift, beginning their long sweeps.

Over the complex's vox speakers, Derosa's emergency message was being played over the sound of the alarm klaxon. ATTENTION, ALL IMPERIAL PERSONNEL. HOUSE VANDIS SOLDIERS HAVE BREACHED THE COMPLEX. ENGAGE AND DESTROY ALL HOSTILES. I REPEAT, ENGAGE AND DESTROY ALL HOSTILES. No point in trying to surprise the dogs, thought Merrick.

The Administratum Complex tapered into the Governor's tower, the top fifty floors far more narrow than the lower levels where the Hounds had no doubt made their strikes. Several teams of arbiters had already scoured the floors before Merrick and the squad had arrived. After confirming that the tower was clear, the Daredevils, bolstered by teams of arbiters, descended into the main complex.

Hell, it'll take days to cover the whole damn building at this rate. The Administratum Complex went deep into the ground of Meridian. Only the top floors were on the Capital Spire's "surface".

The Arbitrator Captain introduced himself as Talros. He had fifty arbiters fitted with riot gear and heavy suppression shields. "We are honored to fight alongside the Guard this day," said Talros. "Those that have sided with House Vandis will know the full penalty of Imperial Law before this is done. We shall assist in whatever ways we can."

The lift slowed to a stop, groaning under the weight of its passengers. When the doors opened to level 1312, the arbiters formed a shield wall and stormed the clearing, Merrick's Daredevils close behind.

The gutter rat curled up against a destroyed wall and tried to block out the pain. The noise was unbearable, but the blood was worse. He sat there cradling the stump where his left leg had been. Around him, hundreds of corpses littered the streets and gardens of the Captital, more joining the growing pile every moment.

They had made swift progress at first. The Hounds' explosive handiwork had torn up the streets underneath the Imperials' outer lines, and they Vandis loyalists had surged over the Guardsmen's defenses like a wave. It was all going just like The Eye had said. They could win back their freedom, Imperial reinforcements or not.

Then they had reached the actual Guard forces. The oppressors had dug in and had torn apart the first wave of Vandis supporters in seconds. The boy had been caught on the edge of a mortar strike, costing him his leg. The child grimaced, biting his lip until it bled as he tried to hold back from screaming. They would find him then, and kill him. He had to stay quiet, wait for more loyalists... try again. They would be free.

"Where's Kreyn? Corporal, are you here?" called Gren. He grabbed a passing Artemian. "Have you seen any Vendolanders, son?" The trooper shook his head. Gren grunted and let him go.

"Sarge, they're not here," said Flinn, looking left and right.

"I can see that lad!" barked Gren. "They should be here, that's the problem!"

The two Vendolanders had made it to Checkpoint Primaris, one of the three major focal points where they were funneling the cultists into concentrated Imperial defenses. The Artemians had erected heavy barricades along the boulevards, backed up by several Chimeras serving as mobile bunkers. But there was no sight of Gren's group.

Roland and Fenn jogged up to him. Roland handed him a printed vox report. "The vox casters managed to get through to the other Vendoland squads with the codes you gave us. The ones covering the gardens and the southern approach haven't seen them, Gren."

Gren crumpled the report and tossed it aside. "Check them again. They have to be somewhere."

Roland and Fenn shared a glance. "We'll get on it, sir." said Roland at last. Gren crossed his arms, pacing back and forth. Polris sighed and approached Gren. The man was seething, giving Polris pause.

"Sergeant?" he said. "Sergeant, you should consider the notion that they were killed."

Polris realized his mistake just before Gren's fist struck his chin. Gren advanced on him as he recoiled, jabbing a thick finger into Polris's face.

"Don't you lecture me about my boys, new blood!" said Gren. "You keep your little meat shields in line and maybe they'll live. My boys have been with me for two years. They know how to look after themselves. If they aren't here, it's because somebody messed up. It's my responsibility, not yours. So go play soldier, and let me handle my own squad."

"Is this how you handle it then?" snapped Polris. "You just spout out advice to the new guy, but you don't bother to listen to it yourself? I just lost two soldiers today, and I'm dealing with it better than you seem to be."

Gren gave Polris a look of pure ice. Flinn took a few steps back. "You listen to me, Polris," he said, his face contorted. "You and your troops will last a week at most. Those that survive, they'll last a month. My squad has lasted for two years. You don't last two years on the frontline without growing some skin. I'd trade a hundred of your lot for just one vet from the Tyrannic War. You last that long, and then come back and tell me they 'might' be dead."

Polris stared at the older man, then turned and walked away without a word. Gren unclipped his helmet and ran a hand through his wet hair. He tossed the helmet aside and slumped to the ground. Unsure what to do, Flinn opened his mouth to speak, but Gren raised his hand.

"Get out of here, lad," said Gren, trying to keep his voice steady. "Just... just go. They need all the rifles they can get." Flinn gave Gren a pleading look. Gren ignored it and shouted at him. "Go! Get moving, private, that's an order!" Gren's head hung low, trapped in thought, trapped in guilt. He had failed.

Level 1312 was a large, open air veranda flanked by a wide balcony that swung around the lower clearing. The floor itself was a garden, filled with exotic, and in at least one case, lethal, flora from neighbouring Typhon Primaris. Dozens of refugees had taken shelter among the plants. The Cultists were bolstered by Vandis Hounds themselves. The Arbites had rushed into the clearing with their riot shields while the Daredevils snapped off shots at the insurgents. Merrick split the squad into their fireteams and took his group along the left balcony, Tullassar following close behind.

Around two dozen Vandis troops had set up on the far side of the balcony, their heavy bolter chugging while they fired into the refugees and arbites below. Dozens more swarmed across the clearing, stabbing and slashing at the Imperials with makeshift clubs. Talros's Arbiters took cover behind whatever they could find, shielding the civilians behind their large shields. They could handle the cultists, but the Hounds would be a problem. The heavy bolter had to go, or the Arbiters would be cut apart.

Hurst's fireteam crept along the balcony towards the gun, while Merrick drew their attention from the other side. He had Vornas lob a couple grenades into the cultist mass, while he and Alek took potshots at the Hounds. Tullassar fired his bolt pistol over the railing, smiling when he heard the scream of the round's victim. "I hope you know what you are doing, Sergeant. I don't think I can summon a tank from behind a park bench, and our odds are rather slim."

"Hurst knows what he's doing, General," said Merrick between shots. "As long as the Hounds are shooting at us, they aren't paying attention to him. They'll take care of it."

There was an explosion. Merrick peered over the railing to see Remer whooping like an idiot and setting distance records for cultist tossing. "Or, they could all be blown up by a blithering jackass," Merrick muttered to himself. The General just sighed. Remer and Hurst were mopping up the remains of the gun crew, while Kippler had turned his focus to the ringleaders of the cultists below.

"For Vendoland and the Emperor!" shouted Merrick. The Daredevils fired volleys into the cultists. Talros had managed to pull the refugees behind his Arbitors, and they formed a shield wall, perforated with bolters. The heretics began to scatter, getting cut down by the sheer volume of gunfire. Vornas lobbed a grenade into a clump of cultists, taking half a dozen in the explosion.

"How do you like that you frakking bastards!" shouted Vornas gleefully. "Did I miss any of you? Here, have another!"

"Hey, Vornas, it almost sounds like you're having fun," said Remer over the vox. "Did the cogboys do something to your brain while you were asleep?"

"Shut it, Remer." said Hurst. "Focus your mouth on the cultists. I doubt they have a defense against weaponized bullshit."

Hurst sighed. Despite his best efforts, Vornas and Remer were like two overactive hunting dogs, always eager to fight, or in this case, cause major property damage. Remer's antics had already set fire to the balcony. Merrick popped two dogs in the back while they fled. The traitors were scrambling to get to the stairs, away from the one-sided fight and further into the bowels of the complex.

Merrick pulled down his rangefinder, scanning what was left of the Hounds below. He found the target instantly. Covered in black and gold armor, the Hound looked like a Black Legionnaire wannabe. He had to be the one leading the cultists. They were all flocking towards him as he broke for a service door. They made a convenient screen from the Arbiters.

But not from Merrick."Soras, you're up," he said. Kippler fired, catching the spiky traitor in the head as he dove for the doors. The shot splattered the contents of the dog's helmet across the clean walls of the atrium. "Nice shot Soras."

"My pleasure boss."

"But Sarge, he missed one," laughed Remer. "Second to the left, fancy bandolier. Bet you can't hit him, Sor."

Kippler glanced sideways at Remer before calmly turning and snapping off another heretic's head with a perfect shot. "You were saying?"

Remer either didn't hear Kippler over the sound of gunshots, or he was too wrapped up in trying to break as many things as possible. Merrick opted to assume the latter. Seeing the contents of their leader's skull painted across the wall, the remaining Vandis troops fled into the side passage. They would easily be boxed in now. Talros's men moved to pursue them, and the Daredevils regrouped catching their breath. General Derim's hand was to his ear, listening intently to his vox bead. He nodded and switched off the feed, turning to Merrick.

"A well executed manoeuvre, sergeant major. Though your grenadiers soldiers could stand to learn some discipline." he said, eyeing Vornas and Remer arguing behind Merrick. "Still, we have a job to finish. Our forces will be adequate to secure the compound. Colonel Nolt says that the exterior attack has been rebuffed. I suggest we proceed.

"Yes sir, General." said Merrick. "All right boys, let's hope they've rolled out the welcome mat!"

The heretics had sealed the door behind them. The Arbiters were setting breach charges when Merrick's squad met them by the service hatch. Something seemed strange, however. It was too quiet, not like the lull after a battle, where you adjusted to normal sounds, but like an absence of sound altogether. The breach charges blasting the door open sounded distinctly muffled, and a faint but steady ringing was filling Merrick's ears. Something was wrong.

When they rushed into the room, he saw why.

"Oh hell," said Merrick. "Hurst, get Tullassar in here now."

"I thought they had all left," said Remer uneasily. "You think one of them might have stayed behind?"

"I didn't think they'd have stuck around after that thrashing they took, but there's all the evidence we need Lenham." said Kippler. "What do you think boss?"

"I think we should wait for the General to have a look at this."