I hid my Lasgun in my Inventory as I made my way towards the barracks. I did not wish to spook them, after all. And, in this situation, I would not at all blame them if they shot first and asked questions afterwards. Self-preservation was an all-too human instinct and I vehemently did not want to be on the receiving end of it. Lasguns, I knew, were powerful enough to flash-fry body parts; a single hit to the head was more than capable of killing me, unless I wore Power Armor, which was a good way of ensuring that they did shoot, since the Power Armor I had in my Inventory belonged to Traitor Astartes and still had their symbols and heraldry.

So, I advanced towards them, wearing only my flak armor, a pair of tattered pants, and a pair of even more tattered boots. Though I reverted back to my default human self, I did maintain all the enhancements I'd given myself, such as the thickened skin and musculature, and the stronger bones; none of them were obvious, so I didn't think I'd be outed as a mutant. I needed to look as normal as possible. I did not need their suspicion; I was here to help them, after all, my fellow brothers and sisters in arms. Every loyal and fervent soul that I was able to save from this desolate place and take with me back to the Hive City of Kuresh was another soul who would fight and die in service to the Imperium and to the God Emperor.

I passed by the Chimera, idly noting the smell of fuel as I did. Frowning, I bent down and glanced under the vehicle and there it was: a rupture in the fuel tank. No wonder they stopped here to hunker down and hide. No one in their right mind would've done so willingly, otherwise. I could save them, I figured. Repairing the ruptured fuel tank took about as much effort as breathing as I reached out and laid my hand on the Chimera and sacrificed a few kilograms of Raw Material to plug the leak. The actual problem now would be fuel, since I didn't have any and most of the ruined vehicles around us probably didn't have any, either. But, I figured, there were certainly plenty of ruined tanks and APC's here; surely, one of them had some fuel for us to make use of.

Whatever the case, the Chimera was fixed now, at least. From there, I stood back up and strolled towards the front door of the barracks and... well... the door was closed so I just knocked three times, hard, to get their attention. Almost immediately, I heard the sound of Lasguns being raised towards the door. There were six of them. A combined volley would be more than enough to vaporize me, even through several inches of metal.

"I'm a friendly!" I screamed, raising both hands over my head. Of course, I stepped away from the door and stood by the wall next to it in the very likely scenario that they did shoot. I wouldn't blame them if they did. There were daemons running about, after all, and I wouldn't put it beyond such horrors if they were capable of assuming the physical forms of others, like myself. "I'm Private Perry from the 104th! I'm from the 104th! Hold fire! I repeat: please, hold your damn fire!"

There was a brief moment of general silence. They murmured amongst themselves, whispering, but I could not hear them through the wall and the door; perhaps, if I had taken on the form of an Astartes, I could have, but it was too late by the time I actually realized that and I did not want to risk it as one of them could peek out and catch a glimpse of my transformation. Such a thing, I thought, would have me branded as some mutated chaos spawn to be purged. So, I didn't do that.

After a moment, the door opened and a man, who looked older than me by at least three decades, walked out. The man was missing an arm; the stump was bandaged poorly and was still bleeding. He carried a Las-Pistol with his free hand, but it was clear that he'd chosen to be the first one out, because he was the least likely of them to live through the rest of the day. The old man's skin was pale and face gaunt. His eyes were unfocused. He was exhausted, which would not have been much of a problem if it wasn't for the clear signs of blood loss that came with it. Could I fix him? My intuitive understanding of my powers told me that, yes, [Self-Shaping] could eventually be used on others, but that was a long way away. As of now, there was little I could do for him.

I kept my hands over my head as I turned to him, but otherwise stayed in place. The old man's eyes narrowed. When he spoke, the venom of doubt dripped from his tongue. He did not lower the Las-Pistol. Instead, he kept it aimed right at my forehead. "How in the Emperor's holy name did you survive, boy? The 104th was wiped out. Every single guardsman in that regiment was declared KIA by High Command. How could you have possibly survived?"

"I tripped and fell during the charge. My brothers and sisters all fell around me and a mound of their corpses gathered atop me. Their bodies kept me alive." I told him, flatly. [Gamer's Mind] helped in keeping my tone flat, because I was never a good liar before this. Now, I could lie about anything and not bat an eye. It left a bitter taste on my tongue, of course, to lie to a fellow Guardsman, but I knew for a fact that telling him – or anyone – about my abilities was a good way to get myself arrested and executed for witchcraft and heresy. I believed in the cause of humanity, but I also did not want to die. A harmless lie was just that – harmless. "I've been trying to avoid the enemy army ever since, making my way towards Kuresh as silently as I could; I was in the HQ when I heard the rumbling of that Chimera you rode on."

The old man man grumbled something under his breath; our eyes locked for moment before he relented, sighing and lowering the Las-Pistol he'd aimed right at my head. "We were a part of the 86th Armored Division; the bastards ambushed us and... well... here we are."

I nodded. It seemed they were the survivors of an ambush by the heretics. If I had to guess, their Commanding Officer died during the assault and, leaderless and directionless, they simply decided to retreat and, as I had, return to Kuresh to regroup with High Command, just as loyal and steadfast guardsmen were supposed to. After all, why else would they make the journey to this place?

"The others are inside," The old man said, gesturing for me to follow him, motioning with his head. "Come on then, Private Perry. It's not safe for us to linger out here. Emperor knows this side of the planet's overrun with heretics."

I nodded. After having fought a Daemon only a few moments ago, I could certainly agree that this place was not safe for any of us. There were enemies lurking in every corner. One could never be too careful. Actually, that brought to mind their injuries. Going back to Kuresh would be an impossible undertaking on foot, especially since the terrain was rough and harsh; there were roads, of course, but the roads would be crawling with enemy armies, which meant we could make use of them. Chimeras were easily capable of traversing the rough terrain of Praxtor, but it'd create so much noise we might as well announce our presence to every heretic within ten kilometers. Traitor Astartes could hear the rumbling of a Chimera's engines from even further away. No, if we were to make it back to Kuresh, we'd need to get extremely creative.

Because I had no clue how that was supposed to be done. I've not encountered even a single vehicle that I could safely categorize as quiet – not once. This was going to be a challenge.

I followed the old man inside. As I strode forth and followed him into the ruined barracks, I asked. "What's your name?"

The old man paused, briefly, before turning to me. "You can call me Olly."

"Olly," I nodded. "It's good to see another loyal servant of the Emperor."

Olly merely nodded back, but I did not fail to notice the strange look in his eyes. He gestured for me to follow and I walked through the doorway. As I stepped inside, I immediately observed the survivors. There were five others, of course – three men and two women. Of the men, one appeared to have lost a leg, and the other two had lost chunks of their arms, with one sporting only a single eye. They were alive, but barely; it was likely that whatever had taken their limbs also cauterized the stumps it left behind, which was an odd stroke of luck for them. Of the two women, one was not missing any of her limbs despite sporting an injury that burned off half of her face, revealing teeth and musculature; if I had to guess, it was only by the Emperor's miraculous hand that she wasn't screaming in pain. The other woman was missing her left arm.

All of them looked towards me, weapons drawn with their fingers a single movement away from the trigger, but not aimed. I simply nodded at them, these heroes who gave their limbs in service to the Imperium.

"Everyone," Olly said, gesturing at me with his Las-Pistol. "This is Perry, a survivor of the 104th. He'll be accompanying us."

"That's funny," One of the men, the one who lost a leg, snorted, blood spilling from between his lips as he did. "I thought they were all wiped out before we even rolled out of HQ."

"Well," Olly shrugged as he sat down on a crate and sighed. "He got lucky – the same as all of us."

I nodded. "Indeed. But, enough of that. I know you're all resting and this may seem like an insensitive question, but how do you plan on getting in contact with High Command? The path to Kuresh is infested with enemies. And I don't know of any vehicle that can move undetected."

The same man snorted. This time, however, he also spat on the floor. And then, his eyes met mine and I saw a darkness in his gaze – anger that was so deep it marked his soul. And so he spoke with a tone that dripped with venom. "What makes you think we're going back?"

I blinked, not quite understanding his answer. It didn't make sense to me. "I'm sorry? Could you, perhaps... elaborate? High Command is based in Kuresh; where else would you go?"

"I have given all to the Imperium and for what?! They abandoned us out there! The idiots in charge ordered a frontal assault on the enemy and what did that cost us? Everything!" The man's eyes were wide and manic. And the words that spilled from his mouth were bordering on heresy; I gave him some leeway, however, because his mind was likely addled and disturbed by stress and exhaustion. We were brothers in arms, after all; surely, he believed in the Emperor and the Imperium, same as I did. "I watched everyone I knew and loved died, because some idiot wanted us to charge forward, even when we obviously weren't prepared! No, I am not going back to them, like a whipped dog!"

"Nikolas," Olly barked gruffly – in the same manner a veteran would reprimand those under him. "That's enough."

Olly then turned to me. "It doesn't matter, Perry. There's no way we're reaching Kuresh – not when the heretics and traitors have set siege lines around the Hive City. Even if we can a way to travel safely and quietly, there's no way of getting through the fortifications – not with just seven of us."

I nodded in understanding. Still, the Emperor was on our side; surely, an opportunity will present itself? Still, I understood Olly's reasoning. It was for that reason that I chose to ignore Nikolas' heretical words and pretended he never spoke at all. Instead, I kept my attention on the here and now. "So, what is your plan?"

"Revenge," The woman whose face was half-burnt said. Her tone was as cold as ice, but I felt the magnitude of her conviction. I could not help but smile – here was a true servant of the Emperor.

"Count me in." I said.