Fighting With Faith- Twenty-Third Entry

“Go! Alpha formation spread!” Sergeant Engist barked through the microbead.

The courageous agents of Homeworld Asat division of the Imperium-wide Planetary Arbites charged valiantly into the cultists’ hideout.

Shock and dazed faces were seen staring blankly at the Arbites at first, but soon military instincts overtook them. Cultists and mutants nimbly jumped out of the treacherous line of fire, several of them taking direct hits and falling like stones immediately onto the ground. A few of them become a red spray of cloudy mist.

Frag and Krak grenades were flung in all directions, bullets ricocheting off the walls and floor and blood and gore were splattered across the hab.

Sergeant Engist spotted a cowering cultist taking temporary refuge behind an overturned computer console. He flung a Frag grenade in that direction and all that was left could not be discern as Engist focused his attention onto a trio of oncoming mutants. They looked horrid.

Sergeant Engist bared his teeth. He unloaded a few shots into the mutants, barely slowing them down as they came charging towards him.

They’re damned and doomed, corrupted in mind by the benefactions bestowed upon them by the Mother Hive. Soon, I shall cripple them in body.

Engist let out a ferocious roar of raw anger and hatred. He swiftly holstered his laspistol and unsheathed his close-quarter sword. It had been his trusted companion through his forty years of service to the Planetary Arbites and it had seen the end of things far less human and more bestial. It would do no different this time.

Let them come…I shall end their treacherous existence.

Engist could see their faces now; foul putrid stenches emanating out of their mouths, vile pulsating pimples of puss and blood pooling around their nostrils and eye slits. One of them was hobbling on tentacles, and another had a large stump of flesh growing out of his right shoulder. It pulsed and moved as though it was a living thing.

They looked grotesque. Disgusting. Foul traitors that deserved no more then the Emperor’s holy justice to be executed mercilessly upon them.

As they were two strides away from him, Engist let out another bestial roar and leaped towards them. As he landed he brought his blade down in a forward swipe, cutting an arc of gore as he competently swiped his sword through two mutants from shoulder to groin.

They collapsed immediately, bodies sliding apart, spilling organs and entrails onto the ground as they fell.

Engist glared at the remaining mutant. It seemed oblivious to the utter desecration of its comrades as it howled and jabbered in its indecipherable tongue.

It’s heavily muscled arm didn’t daunt Engist. Its enormous size didn’t frighten Engist. He had faith.

Engist finished its pathetic existence as he lashed out swiftly with his blade, piercing the mutant straight through the torso. Blood spluttered out from the wound as Engist withdrew his blade triumphantly, eyeing the flailing figure with a venomous stare as it inexorably dropped to the ground to its final resting place.

Engist risked a glance around; his men were doing well, finishing off the last few resistance of the damned Tyrannid worshippers.

Out of the corner of his eye, through the swirling mists of gore and dust, Engist spotted a few figures huddling out of a small alcove. One of them had a figure of eight legs.

Engist snarled and ran after them.