The so-called "plan" was simple: when attacked, the elite troops positioned around the squad would hold off the enemy while the rest continued forward, carrying the containment crate with their captured target.
At Sael's command, the entire squad immediately sprang into action.
From his vantage point at the center of the formation, Sael watched as more than a hundred hardened men surged forward in disciplined lines, their boots thundering against the rust-stained metal of the Underhive floor, advancing to intercept the enemy blocking their path.
Yet, the enemy advanced as well, straight toward the crate in the center of the formation. His speed was unnatural, driven by a roaring jump pack that spat fire and choking smoke, painting the darkness in violent streaks of burning exhaust.
The moment the two sides clashed, Sael saw the enemy leap, vaulting directly toward his position. At the same time, he fired a sphere of energy into the ground beneath him.
The sphere exploded into a rain of searing light, arcs of pure annihilation scything through the hundred men meant to delay his advance. Some had just begun raising their Hellguns, others had already fired their lasrifles, yet none of their shots found their mark. Before they could react, they were vaporized in a cascade of burning light.
Sael turned, his eyes locking onto his closest friend, a warrior gripping a Hellgun, taking aim at the airborne enemy. But before he could even pull the trigger, his body disintegrated in a flash of energy, the weapon falling from hands reduced to ash.
Panic rising, Sael spun to check the rear formation, and found the situation even worse.
The second enemy had already slaughtered everyone positioned at the squad's rear. He didn't charge forward like the first but simply strode toward them, calmly, relentlessly. As he moved, his arm-mounted multi-barreled weapon spun into action, unleashing a withering spray of laser fire, raking through bodies like a flamer through parchment.
A lance of superheated plasma carved through the left flank, incinerating every warrior in its path.
The shots came from the shoulder-mounted cannons of their attackers' Thunderborn warplate, weapons that showed no sign of overheating or recharging, each blast carving a swath of death through the battlefield.
To Sael's veteran eye, it felt as though they weren't facing two men at all, but an entire armored regiment lying in ambush, a fully deployed battalion of Imperial armor concentrated into two walking juggernauts.
"Status report! Why haven't you checked in?" The Inquisitor's voice crackled over the comms, laced with irritation. "Are you all dead?"
Sael slammed the vox-bead, his voice a desperate scream.
"We're being massacred! Order them to stand down! Call off the attack!"
The Inquisitor was silent for a moment, then, in a voice as cold as the void, finally responded.
"You are nothing more than a band of mercenaries seeking fortune in the depths of the Tyrone Underhive. If you survive and are captured, that is what you will tell them."
Sael's blood ran cold.
"No… You're not just a mercenary handler. You're an Inquisitor. You—"
"We had an agreement. If you succeeded, I would restore your honor. If you failed, there would still be a reward: your records would show that you died over a year ago, and your families will receive the compensation due to fallen Imperial servants."
The words struck like a bolt round, confirmation of what Sael had always suspected. Inquisitors left behind not only pawns but entire networks of operatives, cells carefully constructed to be disposable. Men like him were not soldiers. They were tools, shadows built to disappear.
A sharp beep signaled the termination of the connection.
Sael shouted in rage, hammering at his vox unit. At the same time, his eyes locked onto the Thunderborn carving a path through the center of their formation.
In desperation, he realized that these two weren't just executioners. They were here to secure the prisoner.
With a sudden burst of motion, Sael ripped open one of the heavy storage crates, one designed to look like it contained heavy weaponry. Instead, inside was the captive Soldier.
"STOP!" Sael roared, shoving his laspistol against the prisoner's skull. "One more step, and I put a bolt through his head!"
The Thunderborn at the heart of the carnage turned his golden helm toward Sael.
To Sael's surprise, the warrior didn't seem particularly concerned.
Not about the threat.
The Thunderborn's stance shifted slightly. Their bio-scanners should have detected the captive instantly. And yet, they hadn't. The crate had been shielded from augur scans, a fact that had prevented them from rescuing the prisoner sooner.
"Call him off too!" Sael barked, gesturing toward the second Thunderborn slaughtering his troops at the rear. "ORDER HIM TO STAND DOWN!"
The first Thunderborn, Grey, glanced at his comrade, Anruida, then turned back toward Sael.
Sael bared his teeth.
"I SAID STAND HIM DOWN, OR ELSE—"
Grey activated his Bullet Time.
To him, time slowed to a crawl.
Sael's frantic words stretched unnaturally, the syllables drawn out into an absurdly slow rhythm.
The Thunderborn strode forward at a casual pace, reaching into Sael's armor, searching for any identification sigils, data slates, or insignias that could reveal his true allegiance.
By the time Sael's eyes finally registered the Thunderborn's presence, the warrior had already pulled back his fist.
"Next time, don't come back."
Grey's gauntleted strike crushed Sael's skull into his chest cavity.
The Bullet Time deactivated.
Time snapped back to normal.
Sael's corpse crumpled.
Grey shoved the captured soldier back into the crate, locking it once more. Then, he and Anruida resumed their work.
The battle ended in moments.
The Beta Squad was annihilated.
The two Thunderborns surveyed the aftermath, their golden black armor gleaming amid the carnage.
"Who sent them?" Grey asked, kneeling beside Sael's ruined body.
Anruida spread his arms.
"The Inquisition. Who else?"
His voice carried no surprise,only grim recognition. The Inquisition's fingerprints were everywhere in the Underhive. Operatives abandoned, their handlers vanished, their existence denied. The Thunderborn had seen such schemes before. Men discarded like empty shell casings once their usefulness ended.
Grey said nothing, processing the situation.
Less than ten minutes ago, he and Anruida had been boarding a transport ship, preparing for leave on Talon-III.
Just like every other soldier stationed within the Talon system, they had been granted permission to take leave.
They had been moments away from leaving, moments away from the beaches, the ocean breeze, the sun.
Then, the alert came.
A newly deployed patrol squad had gone missing.
Their mission had been a simple field test, to gauge how fast they could escape an encounter with the Underhive's mutant hordes and report their findings.
But they never checked in.
A recon drone was deployed.
What it found were six dead patrolmen, hordes of dead mutants, and a band of nearly a thousand unidentified hostiles moving through the Hive's depths.
All information was immediately relayed to Grey and Anruida.
Then, the final order came from Governor Qin Mo.
"Exterminate the intruders. Recover the prisoner. If he is dead, avenge him."
The Inquisition is coming. xd
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