Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 706 (7) The Face of an Old Friend

"Malakai? What's going on...? There must be some misunderstanding...!"

Kolisius looked at the familiar face of the Dark Angel and the muzzle of the bolter pointed at them, and shouted in surprise and pain, "We have been fighting together in the mud and among the dead in the base of Mandibas for ten whole months! You even saved several of our lives! Malakai?!"

"Yes. You saved my life, too. Colisius."

At that moment, it seemed that the noble and silent First Legion soldier that Collisius knew in the previous battle was resurrected for two seconds behind this face full of evaluation and suspicion, but soon, the background color given to him by the organization he now served sprayed those vivid memory colors into a cold and ruthless face.

"Then let's..."

The alarm of the power armor being targeted made Colisius stop in his tracks.

"Why……?"

"Stop. We haven't had that much conflict."

The Dark Angel's gaze turned to the only one of the six Imperial Fists who looked completely unmoved.

"We - you, and we, are all loyal. The killing of loyalists only pleases Chaos."

"Of course." Malachai looked at Sigismund, the sixth warrior who did not belong to Kolisius's team. He was wearing an ordinary or featureless Mark IV power armor. There was nothing wrong with the details and decorations - which also meant that there was no more information that could be interpreted, and the helmet completely concealed the other's face and expression.

"But is it common in this era to point guns at fellow loyalist battle-brothers without any evidence or conflict? In the past, such actions were unthinkable, and the accusations behind them were too serious for both parties - betrayers of the Emperor, betrayers of the Empire, traitors."

The Dark Angel let out a dry sound that might have been a laugh.

"You speak like a Dreadnought that just woke up. Sorry, I don't mean anything else, but the Glory Expedition strike cruiser your escape pod belongs to was commissioned six hundred years ago, and it was recorded as missing just over two hundred years ago. Your identity information is marked as veteran Sergeant Volpes Luxemburg of the Imperial Fists' First Company. A perfect resume."

"Wait a minute," Colisius said in shock. "I never told you his full name or his original company! How did you-"

"The Inquisition has authority over the Chapter." Sigismund asked, but it was not a question. "Now that the power of mortals has become so great, the trust between Astartes has become increasingly fragile."

Malakai did not confirm or deny this.

"Although I personally think your resume is a bit too perfect, Sergeant, but our mission is more urgent, and I don't want anything to go wrong at the last minute, okay? If you agree to this, then I will let my companions put down their guns."

Colisius had more questions, but Myrtle placed a hand on the captain's shoulder and shook his head.

Sigismund looked at the Death Watch one by one from behind his eyepiece, and finally lowered his hand from the hilt of his sword.

The Dark Angel breathed a sigh of relief inconspicuously, and after a brief conversation in their internal channel, Archon Orpheus stepped forward, carefully passing through the obviously unhappy Helian and the silent Sigismund, and walked to the alien creature that was releasing the little eagle made of spare parts and scrap metal at hand.

He bent down, approached the other in a coaxing manner, ejected a syringe containing anesthetic from his wrist armor, and injected it into the creature's body.

Soon, the alien creature fell into a deep sleep, and the Death Watch placed it into a special container and evacuated it carefully and quickly to their aircraft.

"Thank you very much for your cooperation, Sergeant Volpes. Maybe we will meet again next time."

The Dark Angel left these words behind as he disappeared into the darkness along with his team.

Sigismund stopped Colisius and his group who seemed agitated in the team channel.

"Don't follow, don't move, and don't move your arms or touch the weapon."

"how?"

"There are more than four of them. There is more than one sharpshooter. Only after they completely retreat, the snipers in the dark will retreat." His brief answer stopped Goluz and Helian's actions, and also made Velisus stop drawing his sword. But what he didn't say was that his current body gave him the confidence to cut off those bullets with a sword, but the matrix calculation told him that there was no need to do so here.

Sigismund instinctively wanted to raise the mysterious number that appeared in his field of vision as "<20%" for Team Kolisius, so he spoke out a reminder.

"how do you know?"

"My power armor has additional predatory vision... hunting sensors." Add to the plan scan list: Why did the personality module of the mind matrix specially write a code to simulate a slip of the tongue? "I" have never had a problem with slips of tongue.

Colisius whispered, "How many?"

"The characteristic marks of the four heat sources in three directions all match those of the Astartes power armor. Add in the scimitar guards around him, and there is a probability of more than 80%. The maximum number of targets he originally planned was five."

A chill penetrated Kolisius's back, which was wrapped in the lining of the power armor. He glanced at the retinal projection. His armor was working properly and the internal temperature was within a suitable range.

"So... he had been targeting us from the beginning." Mildor whispered. "Because we are so familiar with him, our vigilance against him must be the lowest."

"It shouldn't be like this." Helian shook his head sadly. "Without Malachai, we would have died right there. Why? Why go to all this trouble?"

"Weaponsmith." Sigismund walked to the other side of the almost intact room and carefully observed and explored there. "You can move now. Their Thunderhawks have begun to leave the space station."

"But there is no weapon blacksmith Hong Sorabar here! According to the description of the messengers of truth, he is a highly mechanized monster, with a mask made of human skin covering his highly mutated face. Look what we found, only a red-haired monkey, and our former comrade-in-arms wants to kill us because of this monkey." Only Helian An was still complaining, while the others were silent.

The behavior pattern of searching for mechanical technology was unfamiliar to the Grand Master of the Templars, the Black Knights, or the Grand Marshal, but he tried to use the professional maintenance codes that Perturabo had injected into him before, and it immediately helped him find a well-hidden and ingenious secret door.

"That's not a red-haired monkey." Sigismund corrected Helian patiently, "That's a space ape, the only race that can imitate and forge the weapons of the Cainbridge people and other special weapons. Human craftsmen can't reach such a level of sophistication. I guess the Inquisition must have an urgent or high demand for these special weapons."

"Isn't that an animal?"

"It is not advisable to disparage space apes."

"so what?"

"Because it means that the most sophisticated fingers operated by the best minds in the forging world among humans may still be inferior to the craftsmanship of a monkey."

Then, he thought for a moment, and instead of breaking the door lock, he drew out his sword and violently dismantled the door lock.

"Reasonable inference." A cloud of acid mist filled with tiny droplets, white cold air and more bad smells came out from behind the door, and even Colisius immediately put on his helmet.

"These things should be your original goals."

The Imperial Fists cursed with loathing and hatred at what they saw, while Kolisius hurried to call for the rest of the company.

Sigismund silently walked around this laboratory that was very different from the foundry outside. His eyes swept across the half-formed strong humanoids in the culture tanks, all with similar faces. These enhanced bodies were undoubtedly designed to wear the ancient and broken Iron Warrior power armor piled up in the foundry, but...

Sigismund paused at one of the sinks that was most nearly finished.

He stared at the face in the sink with its eyes closed.

Memories from ten thousand years ago were brought before him from the depths of his matrix.

Although it was distorted and misshapen, it was undoubtedly the face of an officer he had known in flesh and blood—it was Felix Cassandra.

The wild laughter and joy of the three dark gods caused galaxy-scale storm ripples in the Supreme Heaven.

(End of this chapter)