It was tiresome to be chased by that damned couple from I.M.P. but Striker was glad to lose them at the apartments. Part of him wanted to finish them off until he received a call from his employer about a change in plans. The Ars Goetia infuriated him; however, they paid well enough for him to at least have some extra funds to buy high-grade weaponry and equipment such as blessed weaponry.

He arrived at the front of the mansion to witness the splendor that only the highborn could afford. The household guards opened the gates for him in a rather hateful silence as he strode into the large frozen fortress overlooking the nearby lands. As he pressed forward and made his way inside, an insidious cold chill seeped around his body while he growled at the immediate change in temperature. An imp butler greeted him and escorted the assassin further inside its hallways as he witnessed frozen slumps of ice and snow.

Striker was brought into the dining room where two Goetia nobles sat by the far end of the room. Yet, he looked to his right to see a group of imps and Greed sharks in business suits stand upright. Despite their professional demeanor, there was a hint of sadistic killers in their eyes, people he should be wary of.

A Goetia noble wearing an ice-sculpted crown and a bright blue fur vest rose from his seat and turned to greet him. "So comes our gracious assassin! My dear sister has been rather impatient to see you. It seems that you failed to complete your task."

"Yes, sir, the target was accompanied by other assassins. If you wanted me to get another shot at Prince Stolas, then I had to peel off and keep them off my back." The killer replied, hoping this would be convincing to Andrealphus.

"You had him in your sights!" Shouted Princess Stella, her outburst demanding the full attention of everyone in the room, including the imps and Greed sharks. "Had you done your job, I wouldn't have to talk to another one of your kind.

He wanted to snarl and quip at the bitch but he knew better than to instill her wrath. It was only a matter of time before someone paid him to shut her trap. Yet, he also reminded her about the target's situation in that part of Hell. "You tasked me to shoot a guest at Ozzie's. Consider yourself luck that Asmodeus hasn't paid us a visit for this shit."

"Well, it is a good point that you've brought up," Andrealphus cut her off as he extended his hand out in front of her, "Given that my brother-in-law is a patron of a certain I.M.P. company, it does throw a wrench in our plans, doesn't it? Fortunately, there's a chance for us to mend this matter effectively thanks to these gentlemen here. Please introduce yourselves."

"My name is Crimson and this is my gang. Now, I've been in search of my son for a very long time but he's been hiding from my nose since he left. Then someone tips me off that he works for a certain Blitzo. Safe to say, we all have aligning interests with one another. You birds want Stolas' head on a platter, the assassin wants to kill a Goetia, and I just want my Moxxie back. So how about we help each other?" Proposed the short imp in a business suit as he smoked a large cigar in his mouth.

"So how do you intend to help us?"

"I've got the manpower but no one is as skilled as this assassin fella I've been hearing about," He answered while turning to look at Striker, "If you can do what I think you can do, I'll help you capture a Goetia in return for your services. How does that sound?"

Another chance to get at the couple once again? To think that his father would be so willing was indeed a surprise, one that brought a smile to his face. "You have yourself a deal."

There were a few days that the Purgatory investigators were granted time on Heavenside. Uhlman decided it was time to act on the leave days that he earned since his induction into the organization. It might not be seen as a significant matter in the grand scheme of issues but an investigator spending a few hours back in Heaven did much to induce relief from the stress of operating a secret life. If there was a small blessing to be had it was that Azrael was very considerate about the well-being of his employees. Every saved and redeemed had their own room, even if they didn't use it as much for it allowed souls to settle down and find some measure of alone time to themselves.

His back lay against the soft sheets of his bed as the veteran pondered about his future. How long would it take for his team to finish their job and finally enjoy some peaceful respite? That possibility seemed too far-fetched, even for him as the operations against the members of the Holy Army spelled trouble for the Department of Purgatory. Then there was the systematic assassination of his disguised colleagues and it all troubled him. His bones felt the storms of war on the horizon and the question of who that would be made his thoughts grow ever-exhausted. It strangely reminded him of the Battle of D6 with Colonel Mel'nikov and Artyom.

A buzz in his pocket interrupted his train of thought as he reached inside to brandish his cell phone. Stealing a glance at the caller's identification, it was soon revealed to be Pavel seeking his attention. Placing the device beside his ear, Uhlman answered with a mischievous grin. "This person has not been reached please try again later."

"Comrade, this is serious!" The former communist expressed his displeasure as the sound of an engine's roar echoed in the background, "Artyom seems to be getting himself in trouble again."

"Explain, I'm all yours." He said as he straightened his back upward and sat from the edge his bed.

"Been following him but I've noticed that the married Hellborn from I.M.P. are missing. Blitzo's daughter is seeking help and she went for our man's assistance. They're leaving Pentagram City's limits and heading into the Badlands."

"That doesn't seem anything out of the ordinary but this conversation better be worth my time," He said, hoping it wasn't a mere fluke to get worked over. It wasn't uncommon to make mistakes on a deceitful operation, "Is this relevant to our operations?"

Pavel's voice seemed sure and confident as he gathered his words for a response. "Artyom and the people accompanying him are heading over to an abandoned estate that possessors supposedly overran."

"It doesn't sound like much. Something should stand out if you want me to act." The Russian mused as he contemplated the possibilities of his friend's situation.

"Well, Strelok did tell me that he's hearing some Holy Army frequencies on the radio. Said that the static is clearing up since my car's chasing after our investigator," Reported the communist as he paused for a brief second, "Sorry about that. People down here don't know how to drive."

"I don't think that this is a coincidence. They might be getting into a trap or a hideout for the people responsible for that attack. Let me talk to Tony and we'll see if you guys can get reinforcements if things turn to shit."

Maybe he was overreacting; however, one could never be truly sure. Better to be safe than sorry. Then there was the matter that Artyom was also tasked with being Charlie's bodyguard and if he went missing or killed in action, Death wouldn't be so pleased about those developments. His thought process was broken when Pavel acknowledged him. "Ladna. I got Strelok, V, and Niko with me if you're not successful."

The call ended and Uhlman was summoned back to work. He was a soldier and his duties were to be carried out but a voice whispered to stay and spend a few more minutes resting. Laziness wasn't a quality to be appreciated and it was tempting to remain in his room; yet, the man paused and remembered his motivations. Hell, he remembered those times when Tony briefed him on the death of Colonel Mel'nikov. There was no time to sit back and let his former superior's death be in vain. He rose from the bed and straightened his back. Such was life as the Purgatory investigator.

The doctors were sure that Prince Stolas would live through and see another day. He wasn't sure whether it was a blessing or a curse at this point. Was it worth living through the agonizing hatred of his wife or the rather toxic attitude of his boyfriend? The Goetia thought about it in the car as he was being driven home by none other than Blitzo himself. Yet, he looked back on the day when his assassin almost took his life and the imp sitting across from him was absolutely distraught. While the emotions of a low-ranking Hellborn were hardly considered, the royal could see that the creature did care, despite all of the rare moments of his soul feeling disregarded.

Soon the van arrived at the front of the mansion and the recovering Goetia stepped outside. He lowered himself to see his lover at the wheel, his eyes looking out at the road in front of him before stealing a glance at the passenger at the right flank. "Hey, take care of yourself. I don't you to stress yourself to death."

"Thanks for looking out for me," The heir replied with genuine affection as he reached out and held the imp's hands once more, "Try to get some rest. I'll be seeing you."

"I appreciate that." It was strange to see him smile, not out of masochistic pleasure, but one of care.

Soon the van drove off from the street and the prince remained on the sidewalk. It was melancholic to see him turn around the corner, never to be seen again. That imp was perhaps the closest in seeing what truly resided in his heart; yet, his hesitation was what kept him back. Time would tell whether that love would truly be reciprocated as he opened the gates and walked to the front door. The plants turned to see him, their maws open with hunger but they knew well not to bite the hand that fed them.

Stolas entered his home once more as silence filled its halls. There was a bit of relief, knowing that his wife wasn't there to berate him or shout and scream. Perhaps he could seek out his daughter and spend more time with her.

"Octavia! I'm back!"

It was unsurprising that his daughter didn't reply. Maybe she was on her headphones listening to her music or deliberately ignoring him? He continued further throughout the house but noticed the lack of activity. Then he came into the living room to see a number of his imp servants lying dead on the ground, their blood dried up as his daughter was strapped to a chair in the center of the room. Her mouth had been gagged while a horrified look on her face stared at him. He rushed forward as any father wood but then the royal heard her muffled voice trying to talk to him.

A golden lasso descended from above and tightened around him. His arms were constricted as the ropes tightened. Dozens of imps and Greedsharks jumped him as their hands got ahold of his binds and made it ever so harder for him to slip out. Stolas frantically glanced at his surroundings seeing these low-borns have the nerve to appear in business suits and handled him like a thug. Yet, he saw a cowboy among them, circling around like a predator circling its prey with his hands holding his end of the golden rope. He looked familiar until the memories reminded him of a similar appearance at Ozzie's. "You?"

"Well now, how does it feel to be trapped in your own house," The creature began as a satisfied smile rested upon his face, "Prince Stolas, son of Paimon, a damned fool you are."

"That's some nice work you did there. Not many can take down an Ars Goetia like that." Spoke a gentlemanly voice as the crowd moved aside for a short imp smoking a large cigar. Spots under his eyes revealed an exhausted man while his gaze was one that felt venomous and toxic from looks alone. His stroll towards Stolas was indeed intimidating if it was for someone who could be terrified by the likes of him.

"I am to be perfect sometimes. Especially against their kind."

The stranger smiled as he turned to look at the imprisoned royals. "I've got a deal waiting for me and it involves you. Safe to say, I don't have to be worried over dealing with you."

"Who put you up to this?" The owl demanded from his captors, hoping he would have some understanding of his dire situation, "Surely, we could work something out?"

"Your wife sends her regards."

"Stella?" He knew that she hated him but never did he think that his supposed wife would stoop so low to hire assassins against him.

"Yep. I have some unrelated business with her and if I need to kidnap you to get it over with, then this was going to happen," The old imp said nonchalantly as he reached for his cigar and released all of the inhaled smoke deep within, "Alright, bag him and the girl."

A fully occupied car drove on a lonely road in the countryside. No jokes or funny remarks, just an atmosphere of unease that dominated their minds. Artyom was eager to rescue his coworkers but an insidious thought seeped in about encountering the captors of Moxxie and Millie. Strangely enough, he was reminded about the stomach-churning event at Red Square where Pavel trapped him and attempted to kill him. Why was his body undergoing the same feeling as he was now? It did little to comfort him as he looked ahead of the car as his M4 carbine rested between his legs while his hands rested atop the butt stock.

A great mist encapsulated around them and its intensity made it utterly difficult to penetrate even with the foglights. He stole a glance from the driver's seat to his left and saw Loona drive with her window lowered. Her head peeked out to the side and her nose sniffed while maintaining her eyes on the road. "It's getting stronger. We're getting close."

"That's a good doggie. Might be nice to have a Hellhound around the Hotel," Commented Angel Dust as he finally broke the serious tone within the vehicle, "So I gotta ask, what's your trick?"

"Moxxie has a peculiar scent on him. It mostly has to do with his peculiar taste in coffee." The driver answered while maintaining her concentration.

The Russian felt the need to join in on the conversation but decided to take a page out of Uhlman's book of treating a serious matter with a bit of humor. "Of course, it had to be Moxxie. It wouldn't surprise me if he would put on perfume in his drink."

"Believe me, he's done that. It's just that he's vowed not to do that again unless he wants to commit suicide."

Vaggie spoke up as Artyom looked over his shoulder to see the moth keeping an exterminator spear close to her chest. "So how long have you been doing this?"

"Ever since Blitz adopted me," She answered, "Back then it was just me and him killing humans on the mortal plane. Things were a bit different and he barely made ends meet but things got better after Moxxie and Millie were recruited."

"All of that would sound wholesome if it wasn't for the hitman business you're in." The sinner sounded as if there was a characteristic to respect.

"Honestly, a good chunk of the people we kill kinda deserve to die. Humans are surprisingly weird and disgusting behind closed doors."

That sentence resonated with Artyom as he was reminded of the skullduggery that existed in the Moscow Metro; yet, he remained unsure whether that statement was true all across the board. "That's true to a degree but the opposite could be said about the goodness of people as well. You would be surprised to find imposing strangers with a heart full of gold."

"So if that's the case," Angel Dust interrupted, "How did a guy like you end up in Hell?"

"I killed angels."

The conversation paused as he quickly looked at the driver and the other passengers. Their blood-drained expressions and inability to speak seemed to be their response. It was a personal matter he only shared with Helen but perhaps that was because was willing to be intimate with her on the life he once knew.

"So now you know why I'm in the realm of damnation."

Loona raised her hand and immediately grabbed everyone's attention. "We're here. Time to look around."

Soon the party looked ahead as the vehicle entered the perimeter of an abandoned estate. Brick walls were covered in a layer of vines the iron gates were swung open on rusted hinges. The visibility in the fog seemingly got better as their car lights were able to see up to thirty meters. As the Hellhound decelerated the car to a stop, they parked in front of a large mansion and stepped out the doors.

Artyom's old habits kicked in as he quickly raised his assault carbine, ready to deal with potential hostiles. Then he heard the cocking of a weapon and looked to see Angel Dust load a drum magazine into his Thompson alongside Vaggie holding onto her blessed polearm. Loona was the first to lead the party towards the main entrance as her nose continued to sniff the air just as before. Soon, they slowly unlocked the door and proceeded inside.

The Russian activated his tactical flashlight in the lobby while scanning the surrounding dark rooms of the mansion. For a place that seemed abandoned, an eerie feeling of being watched from the shadow crept into his head. "Whoever took Moxxie and Millie, they know we're here."

"You seem too sure of yourself." The moth said behind his back.

"I have experience with this kind of bullshit."

Loona stopped walking forward and her head immediately pointed ahead with an alert look to the front. He took it as a sign that she caught a nearby presence that aroused his suspicions. Then the former Polis Ranger stood by her side and pointed his flashlight ahead, hoping to see who awaited them. A glimmer shined onto a set of stairs leading to the second floor above them; however, there was a figure of a man sitting on the staircase smoking. The stranger seemed relaxed while puffs of white smoke masked the identity of his face. His mind seemed to recognize the figure until he recognized the Hell form of someone who embodied the propaganda posters of the Soviet new man. Confusion seeped into his mind, knowing that he once had ice cream with an old friend.

"Hunter?" He asked, hoping this close relation of his would clear matters up.

A low chuckle emanated from the other side of the lobby as the man removed the cigarette from his lips and tossed it aside. The veteran's appearance is no longer hidden away by the burnt tobacco. "You always had keen eyes."

"Railtracer, you know this guy?" Asked the homosexual gangster and he stood beside Artyom and readied his sub-machine by his hip.

"We're old friends back when he was amongst the living. You could say I was a teacher of his who taught him important aspects of life. It's a shame that this might be the only time that Artyom will ever introduce all three of you to me."

Vaggie stepped forward and readied her spear pointing directly at him. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"What he means, ma'am, is that you three aren't going to walk out of this little shindig alive." A voice of authority dominated the room as the lights turned on. There was a chandelier hanging above the group as dozens of armed soldiers in black uniforms appeared on the second floor. Their weapons were present and aimed at the four standing before Hunter. Then another appeared at the top of the imperial staircase as he descended from the right flight. Where the others were hidden away by balaclava masks he was an exception. The blonde-haired and blue-eyed man, with an unshaven face, and a scar along his right cheek - smiled with his weapon lowered, "Technically, it could end up going to four, depending on whether your Russian friend still maintains his loyalty to the Department of Purgatory."

"Hunter, what is the meaning of this?" Artyom could feel the looks of his fellow companions but his gaze fell upon the man he once looked up to. They had eaten, drank, and shed their blood together on behalf of Exhibition station. His heart felt heavy at the betrayal in place and the young man shook his head. What could honestly bring a man like him to stoop so low?

"So here's the deal, investigator. Your buddy wants you to stop working for Azrael and the rest of those sonovabitches in Heaven who still think that maintaining the status quo with Lucifer is in their best interests. If you do that, we'll welcome another to the winning side and finish the mistake that is Hell. Our superiors would be happy to know that we've recruited someone so skilled; especially for one who contributed to uncovering our operations. You can thank Hunter for advocating for us to spare you."

So these were the conspirators who were responsible for defending the weapon shipment? The offer was considerable but it was designed around weak-willed men who lived a life without principles. Not for people like him. "And if I refuse?"

"We'll just shoot all four of you right where you stand and be a few hands short." The leader replied nonchalantly, "Take the chance, kid. This is the one and only."

"I can't. Not here, not now. There are reasons why I have to make my stand and oppose you. It's more personal than serving the department." The archangel's swift attack on a military convoy, the deaths of innocents, and the killing of his father-in-law were scenes that were burned into his memory. Being a witness to those losses would make their dying in vain.

Hunter stood up and approached him, stopping halfway when Loona growled. "We've been through much to be on opposite sides. Hell, I practically helped raise you since Sukhoi took you in. I don't want to kill you. What reason do you have to refuse us?"

"These people you're working with, they killed the colonel," Artyom answered with a venomous distaste for the memory he was forced to mention.

"Mel'nikov?" His eyes widened, understanding and realizing the scope of his vengeance, "I didn't even know."

The blonde man behind the veteran Polis Ranger let out a deep breath. "Enough! Either you step forward or we kill you where you stand."

"Don't do this."

"Unfortunately," Artyom began, accepting that deep down, the alternative was worse than the option of fighting to the death, "This choice is mine to make."

Angel Dust let out a small laugh. "Well, Vaggie, it was nice of you and Charlie to welcome me. You at least deserve to hear that."

"Gentlemen, you know what to do." Ordered the leader of this opposition as the sounds of safeties began to click.

It was tempting to resign one's self to a doomed fate; yet, the former post-apocalypse survivor would still take at least one life in what would become his final death. There would be no mercy between those present. Hunter appeared to be ashamed as he lowered his head and brought his hand over his face. Their friendship was not enough to spare one another from bloodshed.

The radio on Artyom's person had crackled as Pavel's voice seeped a glimmer of hope from disaster. "Chuvak, we're coming in!"

A loud crash erupted and shook the building as a brief window of opportunity arrived. He looked up at the soldiers behind the railing on the second floor turning their heads at this new distraction. Instincts of survival made him grab his sinner and Hellborn companions, throwing them into a nearby room to his left for the safety of cover. Gunfire erupted as men screamed to the top of their lungs but a brief glimpse caught sight of a lithe woman with blades extending from her arms. She had jumped from one end of the railing to the other while an eviscerated corpse dropped to the ground floor. As soon as the blur of black and purple landed, flashes of gunfire flickered against the reflection of the ceiling.

"Comrade, we'll deal with these guys. Go get the others!"

Glass shattered as a firefight ensued between the assailants and the investigator's rescuers. Yet, the Chaos of the fighting was not able to drown out the quick shuffling of Hunter and his superior from running up the stairs, deeper into the unknown layout of the second floor.

The disguised investigator rushed after them and he fired his weapon on them. Out from behind, he could hear Vaggie's voice call for him but he ignored her pleas in the hope of chasing his fleeing prey. Despite his efforts to catch them off-guard, the blonde soldier returned fire with a burst from his MP5 submachine gun as the impact of the bullets staggered the Russian in his tracks. While Artyom regained his balance, the duo reached the top of the stairs and quickly fled the scene while more of their men followed in the wake of the counter-ambush.

He made his way up the stairs with haste as his business with Hunter still remained. The betrayal instilled vigor in his veins as he continued to press forward. Upon arriving at the top, he looked back upon the railings to see the bodies of the rank-and-file focus entirely on the women who had lifted one of their own with her arm blades and tossed him another. The disguised saved immediately recognized the woman from the safehouse, sensing that the Department of Purgatory was well aware enough to deploy his team to rescue him from eternal death. Heading Pavel's last words, he pursued with haste.

Gunfire rippled throughout the building as he searched through the mansion room-by-room and navigated the various hallways leading into different wings. The lonely search made him think about Vaggie, Angel Dust, and Loona when he was confronted by Hunter by those stairs. There could be no future where his friendship could last due to his identity being compromised. Once the dust settles and the last bullet is fired from this incident, the department will change its assignment to maintain its policy. Thoughts such as these made him wonder if Verosika and Mayberry would feel broken by this artificial abandonment.

Artyom turned around the corner of a hallway to find the blond commander and several more surviving soldiers in black uniforms on the other side. They were so eager to leave until he heard the American accent shout. "C'mon, we got to get these imps out of here!"

Two men were carrying short and red-skinned creatures in their arms before his eyes recognized the knocked-out bodies of Moxxie and Millie. They were here all along and this instance might be his only chance to rescue him. So he marched forward and raised his carbine, tightly holding on to the grip and trigger, and flicked his weapon's fire mode to burst. A single pull of the trigger released three bullets from the barrel as the velocity of the rounds flew ahead mortally wounding two men amid the crowd.

"Shit, I thought I nailed the fucker. Shadow Company, hose this fucking hallway!"

Six men attempted to form a firing line in vain hope of delaying him. Despite their numbers, aspects of the Russian's old life had instinctively turned on as his reaction to the trigger was faster than they anticipated. One by one, each man was struck down in quick precision as their bodies slumped to the ground while the others departed around the right corner of the hallway. He followed after them, his veins burned with hatred, carrying a fury unlike any other.

It was strange to feel this flight that he had never experienced before but he did not complain. If it meant that he would rescue the two imps, then this holy wrath of his was one to embrace. Artyom had run throughout the decrepit building, only to be led into a greenhouse garden filled with various plants settled into neat rows. He observed the scenery, noting every detail, to find a few instances of broken branches and a figure of a man lying down on his stomach. The sight of a barrel sticking out was enough for the pursuer to kneel as he brought his M4's sights onto the hiding soldier. A burst was all he could squeeze from his weapon as he watched the bullets land on the target's shoulders.

After the killing was done, Artyom caught a glimpse of several shadows and figures rising up from the dirt and converging on the far side of the garden. He rose up before the cry of an engine whine spurred to life and bellowed a ferocious roar. His eyes saw an oncoming vehicle from the left accelerate at such speeds smashing into the glass and running over all in its path. Shards of glass kicked up into the air as he flicked the fire mode on his carbine and held down the trigger. Yet, the SUV remained unharmed save for the few scratches the bullets could harm. He could see Hunter behind the driver's seat, manning the wheel. Their conflict had finally come down to being nothing more than a pedestrian at the mercy of wild driving.

The former Polis Ranger found himself diving out of the way as he almost turned out to be roadkill. On the ground, he reached for his weapon, only to find that it had been lost and out of reach. Then he heard the car stop and its door swing open before he looked back to see Hunter walk up to him with his assault rifle ready. Turning around, he was ready to face him as the old soldier stopped and towered over him. "So this is what it has come to? What exactly did you do to deserve serving them?"

"I made a deal, Artyom," He said with a tone of shame. His words filled with sorrow, "I fell in love with a sinner and in order for her soul to be saved, they expected me to do my job."

"So you made a damned deal." It was a hard moment for him to accept but knowing that his fellow's reason, it was hard to blame him.

"Such is life for men like us. Had I known better and learned about Mel'nikov's fate, things would have been different. I'm sorry, Artyom."

"So am I," There was a trick up his sleeve, never did he think he would use it until now. The strange weapon that had become a part of him since the raid on the demon hunters still remained. So his hand reached out and the mind willed the two-handed sword to materialize into his grip. Then he made a meager sword swipe while Hunter's eyes widened with surprise. He tried to raise his assault rifle from his side but the younger man sat up and watched as the Heaven-blessed sword made a long horizontal tear across his chest, "So am I."

The foe stumbled back and seemed to cease carrying his firearm before stumbling against the armored SUV behind him. Leaning back, the defeated and wounded soldier smiled as he bled. Artyom rose from the ground brought both of his hands on the sword's grips and pointed the weapon at him. Blood began to leak through his mouth while he reached for a bracelet on his wrist and removed it. The Hell form transformed into a dying man and his last breaths. "You got me this time. We both know that I'm not walking out of this alive. Finish this."

Those last words became the catalyst for the Russian to push the sword through and into the chest of a man he so admired when he was younger. The blade found itself stopped when the flesh was held back by the parrying hooks. In this one single moment, the memories of all the times he spent with this man flowed like a river breaking the damn as tears began to form. Hunter appeared to accept the unfortunate reality of what had happened as his hand reached out and placed itself on the shoulder of his admirer.

"I don't have a lot of time left and this will be the last time we'll ever see each other. I'm proud of you, kid. Whatever happens, I hope you get to live a life we never had the chance to enjoy. You earned th-" The words he tried to force from his gut were never realized in the end as the remaining life failed and the man succumbed to his wounds. Artyom could feel the hand on his shoulder slip off as blood stained his military uniform and a turmoil of emotions forced himself to pull the zweihander out from the corpse of this fatherly figure. He had just killed his hero and did not know how to process that feeling.

The radio sparkled to life as Tony's exhausted voice chimed in. "We've encircled the perimeter. What's the status on the imps and the others?"

"Got them," Uhlman answered as gunfire roared throughout the communication, "Pavel and a Hellhound managed to intercept their vehicle as a convoy drove out of here. We don't know where they're heading but the two imps are out of their custody."

"Thanks for the report. Damn, I'm going to have to explain this shitshow to Azrael."

Author's Note: I am absolutely lucky that I've managed to finish up the rest of the chapter. Shame that the last section is effectively the longest when compared to the rest of the other sections within this update. Nonetheless, this story is on the move, which is good since I've been playing 40k Rogue Trader and somewhat worried that I wouldn't be able to shave a little time to get this story updated. Well, leave your thoughts on the chapter.