Argus stood behind a wall, weapons at the ready. The enemy convoy was en route, belching smoke in the distance. The far off rumble assured him of a few more minutes of calm before the storm. He was tired, but he fought it off. He closed his eyes, mind focusing.
Days, weeks had rushed by. Danicus worked the scouts to the bone: mission after mission after mission. But they were Astartes. The Emperor's mailed fist. And they crushed their way through whatever came up. Thankfully, they did not suffer further losses. Heretic militia and vile mutants alike fell before them.
Not that everything went smoothly. In his mind, Argus still heard the cries of the PDF troopers he had failed to protect. The explosion of their transport behind their lines, thought safe. And more. Humans were not safe, not any longer, not anywhere on the planet.
Argus strenghtened his resolve. This world had grown complacent. They allowed treachery and heresy to creep in. They had to be cleansed. And they would be, by the Emperor!
He checked his bolt pistol and chainsword one last time. Carapace armor, fastened. Voxbead in place.
'Contact.'
Argus blinked. That was Gortez on the vox. Looking through the scope of his sniper rifle, he must have sighted the enemy.
'Understood. Hold position. Wait for my signal. The Emperor protects.'
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