Editing Toyhammer (section)

=Omake: Ordo Vermin: The Great Pest=

= = = = = 10 Selesly Ave, Floor 2 Apartment 19 (Mitchells Residence), Thursday, 6:03 pm...

I pushed past a red-haired woman, and stepped out of the well traveled footpath and into the house. It was dead quiet in here, except for the scurrying of mice and rats.

Reaching up, I flicked on my 'comm-bead', to use the Guardsmen's name for such devices.

"Advisory, this is Michael. I have returned."

"We noticed." Chuckled the friendly voice of Father Jeremiah, who sat at Advisory, the command and control center for our operations.

I smiled. Extermination had never been so fun before.

- - - - - 5 minutes later.

"Sergeant Vinters, how is it up there?"

The Assault Marine had abandoned the use of their jetpacks, and were now simply moving around on foot. Like that was a problem for them. Vinters tapped his vox as he walked at the lead of the Marine formation.

"Lighting fixtures have been investigated, Michael. We're moving through the attic now."

I punched in another channel.

"Chaplain Morteus, drop the rat."

"What rat, Michael?" Came the deep bass reply.

"Its been over five minutes, I'm pretty sure you've found another one by now."

"B-but!"

"Drop. The. Rat."

"..."

"Morteus!"

"Alright, alright..." There was the sound of something hitting the ground with a wet smack, and then one of the other Space Marines accompanying Morteus confirmed his disposal of the vermin's head.

"Shas'vre DFA, how are you doing?"

"Just fine, Gue'O Mi'kel." Death-From-Above responded.

"Seraphim, progress report."

The Sisters of Battle were clearing the attic of the apartment, an onerous task if anything. They were also babysitting the cogboys as they shifted through the materials, hoping to pick up any forgotten materials to take with them.

"We are doing well, Michael."

"j00 |\/|457 b33 0u7 0f 17, 7h3r3'5 70n2 0f 0ld 57uff up h33r! 4 d4 c0gh33d!" [You must be out of it, there's tons of old stuff up here! Praise the omnissiah!]

Chuckling, I switched to the Orks.

"Madork Gunna?"

They were a recent addition, but for the Eldar and the others it meant that the Orks got their taste for blood without having to resort to 'krumpin' the others, so in that respect the prospect of the Orks getting the messiest jobs was a welcome option for them. I thumbed the 'send' button again.

Ten seconds had passed. There was no reply from the Orks.

"Oi, push da green button, ya daft squig."

"Iz dis fancy box workin'?"

I palmed my face.

"Ya zoggin' git..."

"It iz?" There was a small clang as a grotling was punted by the metal boot of Madork Gunna, Da Big Boss' Right Hand Ork. "Me an' yer boyz are clearin' dis place up, boss! We'ze gonna finish first, an' we'ze gonna finish it roight an' proppa!"

"'roight, so long as youz don' krump da uvvers, okay?" I was starting to learn a little Orkish, which was mostly a butchered English anyway, and found that it went a long way when dealing with the Orks.

Proppa Bosses dun talk lik' dem pinkies. Dey'z gotta talk lik' an' Ork.

I turned to the General Advisory unit, more specifically at the advisor and organizer of the rat-hunting events.

"General Faust, how is progress?"

The rotund commander looked up from his consoles, which were displaying scans of the entire house that we were in. Lines scurried about, showing where the squads had been, where they were now, and where they were to be.

"We are almost done here, Michael. Give us another hour or two and we'll have this habitation cleaned up."

"Understood."

= = = = = 28 Belmont Street. Home. Friday, 8:27am...

Two jingling beeps, and then a single tone that dipped down then pitched sharply higher.

Vincent had a real sense of humor.

Somehow, he had programmed in the Metal Gear Solid Codec noise into my cellphone. A year and a half ago, the Final Fantasy VII Victory Fanfare. Last time I leave it alone for more than ten minutes at his house. I fumbled the cell as I pulled it out of my pocket, but managed to catch it before it got to the floor.

"Hello?"

"Yo, Rookie." Buck was on the line. I straightened up in my seat as

"Uh, hi, boss..." I replied a little awkwardly.

"We got a call for one of our boys to go clean up out in 90 Tennyson Road. You know the drill, call for help if you need it. Caller's name is Olivia Walker."

"Right, boss."

- - - - - 90 Tennyson Road 10:51 am...

"Hello? Miss Walker?"

Knock knock knock.

Nothing

"'allo?"

The door creaked open, revealing a short-ish young woman. She peered up at me with bright green eyes, her red hair bobbing up and down as she tilted her head back to look up – like I said, she was short compared to me.

"Ah... hi... I'm looking for Miss Olivia Walker, she called for the Odd Street Exterminators?" I tapped my overalls, which had the name for the company – odd in both name and disposition.

It looked like the cogs were turning in her brain, and I waited patiently, praying that she had been told about this.

"Oh! Right, right... we've just been having all these... rat things in the basement and through the house... I just don't know what they're here for, and they've been keeping us up all night with their scratching and stuff, since our walls are connected 'n... yeah... Olivia – she owns the place, really - must have told you about them..."

I blinked... her figure and the way she was swaying from side to side was most distracting... and shrugged, half-turning to look at the shrubbery outside while I tried to work out what she had been saying. This place was old, musty. A relic of the fifties, with a lot in the way of disused rooms and nooks and crannies to hide in.

"Alright, miss... uh... well, I'm going to have to ask you to leave the property for now, because we'll be using some chemicals that will be very uncomfortable to breathe in..." I held up my hands defensively, knowing that some people were rather paranoid or mis-read about this kind of thing. "They'll decay, though, so that they'll be harmless after a couple hours or so... are you the only one in here?"

"No, no more people... just me and Olivia, the other rooms are all empty right now... we've been friends since high-school, you see, so we moved in together when we graduated..." She flushed, seeing my small wince of impeding life-story telling. "Oh, its okay, I don't want to bore you. I'll be going now, so you can start bringing in all your stuff, okay?"

"Okay... uh, do you mind moving your car out of the driveway? I don't want to block any traffic with my van parked in the curb."

Plus, by half-opening the garage door and opening my van up, nobody would notice the small fleet of vehicles and skimmers as they rushed into the house.

The red-haired girl smiled at me, and made her way past me. "I will... good luck... uh..."

"Michael." I put my arm forward, and we shook hands.

"Michael, then..." She giggled as she ran her smooth fingers over mine. Over the last few weeks, my fingertips were cracked from the dozens of splinters and scratches that I had acquired on the job, and the skin there had toughened a lot.

"A working man's hands." The red-haired woman smiled. "Jeanette Voleur. Call me Jeanette."

She turned back into the house, collecting her purse and keys. "Good luck, I suppose... if you need it."

"Alright... take care."

Turning around, I walked off to the van with a smile on my face.

- - - - - Living room, 11:09 am...

"Alright, we all set up?" I tapped the comms, and received a stream of answers. Waiting for them to die down, I turned to Advisor Faust. The rather well rounded man turned to a Techpriest. A familiar face.

"4ll 5y573m5 4r3 r34dy 2 rum13le, |\/|1||3y!" [All systems, ready to rumble, Mikkey!]

"Ah... thanks?" I turned my attention to the rest of the teams. "You all know the plan. Eldar and Tau, sweep the open spaces, look for anything that might be an entrance." The respective forces nodded their understanding, and hurried off to their assigned tasks.

"Orks and Space Marines, you're in the lower walls and under the floor, sweep 'em and clear 'em out. Got it, boyz?" The Orks gave an almighty WAAAAAAAAAGH!, and the Marines simply nodded in understanding. "Right. See you 'round, then."

"Imperial Guardsmen, Sisters of Battle. Ceiling spaces and upper walls. Onward and upwards."

There was another cheer as the Guardsmen mounted up onto their APCs, the Sisters doing the same, except with battle hymns, as far as I could listen in with these guys.

That left the reserve teams on standby. Michael's Marauders, as they were dubbed, was a good mix up of the more open-minded members of each force, to act as a mixed-race unit, ready to strike at any particular concentration of pests.

I nodded as their current de facto leader, Commissar Tomas, checked in with General Faust. Their leaders tended to switch around: last time, it was our friendly Warlock, Yoza. Next time we took to the field, Aun'ui was scheduled to be leading this force.

"Yes, Tomas, just stay on standby until further notice." Faust reassured the Regimental Commissar.

Things were going good. Just another day at work for all of us.

A vacation for some, even.

Although surprised at the fact that cockroaches had their brains where a spinal chord should have been, the fact that we had suffered next to no casualties (one Tau trooper singed badly when he discharged his plasma gun in the presence of excrement fumes, two Guardsmen wounded lightly when encountering a rather panicked rat, a Space Marine incapacitated when he investigated the strange device that turned out to be a mouse-trap, and seven Eldar slightly nauseated when their Wave Serpent tumbled down the garbage chute) was something of a moment of immense pride for most of the commanders. Commissar Tomas told me that such campaigning would have already depleted a good portion of a Guard Regiment.

I sighed. Life was cheap in the 41st millenium.

Like I had said. Things were going good...

Although... I looked over to the kitchen. Something was niggling at the back of my head, sending thoughts bouncing around in my brain.

"Terminator team, report."

"Yes, Michael?"

"Grab the reserve teams. Head over to the kitchen... I want to know what's underneath there."

The Terminators nodded, and loaded up onto their Land Raider transport.

- - - - - Kitchen cabinet, 11:19 am...

Sohm Vekt clung to his freshly issued autogun as the Devilfish skimmed above the blurring ground. The back ramp was open, to accommodate the excess of Imperial Guardsmen crammed in with the Pathfinders and the Fire Warriors also packed in with them. Sohm bumped against a Fire Warrior with an orange helmet, with a pure white talon shape marked on the forehead. He craned his neck to face the Warrior, who simply shrugged off the accident. Sohm inclined his head in apology, and the two returned to staring out of the window.

Trooper Karkoff beside him stumbled slightly, only to be seized by their gruff Sergeant. It was all too easy to lose a Trooper falling out of the hatch right now. They were squeezed into the Devilfish carrier like the sea wyverns of Umisho VII. Sohm licked his lips as he remembered opening the can of the finger-sized sea monsters.

They were tasty. Better than the Soylens Viridians that were the usual fare for the Cadians.

Behind him, he could see a Sisters of Battle squad riding atop their Rhino transport.

Absent mindedly, he tapped the Tau 'Shas'ui' beside him, and gestured at the blue-skinned soldier's optics enhancer. The Shas'ui nodded, and passed the device over to him. Trying to speak in the afterwash of a Devilfish was a silly idea, although for Orks it seemed to work.

Sohm looked down at the single-lens device, which reminded him of a sniper scope. He peered through it, out at the Sisters riding along behind them. He smiled to himself as he saw Meliya, her weapons of choice – a chainsword and bolt pistol - seated comfortably in their scabbard and holster.

"THANKS!" He shouted to the Shas'ui, who simply nodded and accepted the optical device and tapped it against his shoulder plate, where it clamped down – possibly through some xeno binding agent.

Wait... did I just borrow something off a xeno?

The Devilfish swerved off to one side, and the other ramps dropped open. Sohm stopped thinking in favor of moving with the two-dozen troops pouring out of the ramp and seeking out their platoons and squads.

"Oi! Vekt! Get moving! The Quartermaster gave you boots for a reason!"

- - - - - 11:29am

I pulled off my comms, knowing that Father Jeremiah would have more than enough voice-power from his command vehicle just beside me to warn me of anything that might come up. I had finished getting everyone into their various nooks and crannies, and was looking forward to a little bit of a rest.

Knock, knock, knock.

Oh crap.

Everyone went into high-speed now, their various transports gunning their engines for the nearest hiding spot as I rushed for the front door. I had locked it, of course, so when I heard the tumblers turning in the keyhole, I frowned as I rushed for the door. Buy some time for the minis, so at least they could get hidden.

The door opened, almost into my face. I managed to backpedal enough that it only clipped my nose.

I tried to look nonchalant as I peered around the door.

"Hello?"

"Oh! You must be Michael! Jeanette told me about you: I'm Olivia." Sure enough, a woman about the same age as her friend was standing in front of me, with Jeanette smiling cheerfully right behind her. Unlike the short (in both height and hair length) woman that had greeted me the first time, Olivia was taller, and with long brown hair. They seemed almost opposites. I guess then I was drifting off, because next thing I knew Olivia was waving her hair in front of me.

"Hel-lo? Anyone in there?" She teased, and I flushed red.

"Uh... sorry... well, I've just been setting up, going to get started now... is something the matter?"

"Jeanette told me that you were here, and I was just worrying about a few things in the basement... can you follow me down there? I want to know if it might be a rats nest or something... it could help you clear out the house."

I nodded, eager for the women to be on their way. The minis would have had enough time now to clear out of sight.

"Alright... this is the basement door, right? I've just been having a look around the house..."

- - - - - 11:32am ...

"Eugh... even Hive sewers aren't as bad as this."

They were underneath the kitchen cabinet now, having cut a small hole into the yielding wood and dropping the troopers down into the gloom. Sohm tugged on his Guard issue collars, extending them to cover his neck.

"Grime, dirt and not much else..." Sohm signed, turning to the Tanith scout beside him. Two steps later, something caught his attention. He pointed his illuminator – strapped to his autogun – down at the dark cavern floor. "What do you make of this?"

"Looks like tracks." Spoke the ghostly figure. Sohm jumped up at the sight of the printed skull mask. Unlike that of the Chaplain, this one was a cheap head-covering with a stylized white mask printed onto the fabric. The eyes were hidden behind Starlight sensors. The two oval plates of the input would convert what light there was in the darkness, and give something akin to night vision for the troopers fortunate enough to be issued with them.

He creeped Sohm out, mostly because of his Ghostly visage. When asked about it, the senior officer of the Tanith detachment – a strong-jawed Sergeant named MacTavish - simply stated that 'he had died once already'.

The silent trooper that seemingly appeared to the right of Sohm was not MacTavish.

He was one of the two Tanith scouts assigned to the platoon, and like his partner, had his own set of oddities. Similarly dressed in the swirling camouflage cloaks of the Tanith scouts, this trooper had a dark grey scarf wrapped around his neck and lower face, and combined with the flak helmet on top of his head, also obscured his identity. But even more disconcerting was that he never made a sound: no footstep nor voice was ever heard. It was like some... what was that media figure called? Sohm racked his brain.

Ninja. That was it. Like he had some ninja trait to him... in a quirky kind of way.

"So... what now?" He asked, wondering if he could

The silent trooper simply inclined his head forward, shouldered his auto-rifle, and continued on his way.

Exasperated, Sohm sighed and looked at his comrades in arms. Most of them simply shrugged, although Sergeant Folay did give an annoyed shake of his head.

"Come on, hustle up! Cadians lead the way!"

Justicar Amadeus was deep in thought. He stood atop the kitchen counter, standing opposite to Librarian Vasili.

"Do you feel it?" He inquired, turning to the other psykers.

All of them gravely nodded. The Ultramarine Librarian's fists shook with barely suppressed rage. He had tasted the taint across the warp before. On Macragge itself he had fought them.

"They are here."

"c0gb01, where is Michael!" Vasili was already shouting into his vox. "What do you mean? He's gone out to take a call! The boy could be in danger!"

- - - - - Under Floor 1, Room 4. 11:36 am...

"Just one rat... just one. Even the Inquisition has more leniency than that!" Morteus grumbled, sure that his helmet speakers were offline. He trudged through the musty underground of the habitation block, his chainsword in hand and the Crozirus Arcanum of his office in the other.

The two giant Terminators were behind him, having split into their usual three-man teams.

Terminators Alrus and Jerrus raised their arms, and threw them down.

"Shield deflects the Lance, Brother Jerrus." Alrus chuckled, tapping his flat palm against the closed fist that had been defeated.

"Right, I'll have to carry around the rat's heads this time..."

Morteus turned his hollow-skulled attention towards them, and the two brotherly Terminators fell silent.

"We have been assigned to scout this area. Stay alert, brothers, we do not know what lurks in these caverns."

Jerrus and Alrus nodded, knowing that whatever had wounded that woman's leg had been able to output some serious power... well, enough power to harm a homo sapiens titanicus would be more than enough to put some serious hurt on even Space Marines, right?

A shadow leaped from the darkness, and the two Terminators leveled their Storm Bolters at it.

"Hold your fire, Brothers!" Morteus raised his Crozirus, and stalked forward.

The creature leapt out at him, too fast to be any Terran creature. Four arms flailed against his armor, scoring deep gouges across Morteus' pauldrons. Another and another leapt out from around the corner, joining in. Morteus fell backwards, cursing and swinging his roaring chainsword.

Too late, the creatures didn't realize that when Chaplain Morteus fell over, it was so that the two Terminators could open fire. Storm Bolters barked in unison, sending a salvo of high explosive shells into the target creature.

The three jerked spasmodically as the rounds crashed into their flesh. They fell back, and lay still before the shells finally detonated, hollowing it out from the inside.

"Ew... seriously? Those Cadian bolts all have a delayed detonation."

"I believe it is to allow the target a moment of horror, Brother Jerrus."

"Indeed, Brother Alrus."

"But horror cannot be felt by something without emotion... look."

Both Terminators inspected the mashed up corpse.

"By the Emperor..."

The remaining pieces of the three creatures that had attacked Morteus, the ones that hadn't been vaporized or hurled against the walls, were barely enough to piece together one of the horrid monsters that they had been. But for the three veterans that surrounded the corpses, it was recognizable enough.

"Genestealers."

- - - - - Basement,. 11:42 am...

I knew it.

Its a really easy thing to say, once you're in the shit. That all the clues had been lined up in your head, that you knew what was going to happen. Being knocked down, dragged into a dimly lit room and tied to a chair certainly was something that you'd want to avoid, though.

Dammit. Why had she done that, though?

Jeanette stood in front of me, a baseball bat in her hand as Olivia finished her work with the bindings.

I spat out a wad of saliva and blood – the inside of my mouth had been cut by my teeth when the baseball bat slugged me in the face – and looked up at them. Classic Hollywood badassery. Except, this wasn't Hollywood and I wasn't exactly badass.

We were in the basement, which was surprisingly clean. Padded floor and the lower sections of the wall. The rest were shelves, filled with... uh... well, special interest equipment. Whips and the stuff, you know?

"What the hell is going on here?" I asked the two kidnappers.

Jeanette smiled at me, her dainty footsteps carrying her across the floor until she was standing between my knees. Her own knees were horribly close to a place that you could kick for massive damage.

"Well, Michael, have you ever heard of the Patriarch?" She asked, twisting away from me as I shook the seat I was tied to.

"No. I haven't." I responded, looking up at her. No use trying to get out. Olivia knew her stuff when it came to tying a person to a seat.

"He provides. He protects." She whispered, her eyes flashing with excitement. "So long as we give back. Now isn't that a fair deal?"

"Yeah, sounds great. You know what? Could you, I don't know, say... let me go and I'll go home and think about it, how about that? I'm not quite certain of my financial situation right now."

Oliva snorted. Ha. Ha. Ha. What a comedian, huh?

"Oh no, we can't have you doing that, Michael. You see, he doesn't ask of money from us..." Her hands drifted down to her jeans, her fingers each touching their counterparts to create an upside down triangle. She placed it over her lower waist, to frame her... my memory stirred as I sifted through old biology classes. Lower waist, just above the pelvic bones...

"He wants your child!" I almost screamed, before suddenly being silenced by the upwards swing of the baseball bat.

"Yes, Michael, and currently we are at a shortage of male members of the Cult." Leaping up, she straddled my hips, grinning at me. "The Patriarch requires very... specific traits among the members of the Cult. For one, they must be receptive of his gifts..." She touched my forehead, and giggled.

"You probably don't know this, Michael, but you have psychic talents. I could feel it when you went past you the other day, you know? The people of this city are so blunt! They have no ability whatsoever to receive the blessings of the Patriarch." She was getting quite... enthusiastic about her preaching.

"Oh, well, you know... why not try some of those fortune tellers down at the mall?"

"Those fakes!" Jeanette's jaw dropped, and she came along to sit on my lap. In any other circumstance, it would have been fun. Right now, however... well, she was kind of psychotic.

"No no no, Michael, we need a real psychic. And you seem to have the sensitivity for it." She kissed my on the fore head, swinging her legs around to straddle me. Dammit, why can't I have some woman who was actually likeable do that! Or wasn't trying to kill me. Jeanette reached down and began to unbuckle my belt. Soon enough, she had stolen my jeans and was folding them up neatly in the corner.

"Uh... so why didn't you just like... take off your clothes, offer 'some other way to pay' or something like that? I think I would have been perfectly happy with that."

"We couldn't risk you catching on... you are, after all, a psychic. We didn't know if you could read our minds or not, and intimacy only increases the likelihood of that. Our gifts were strong enough to keep you out while we were talking, but... well, concentrating is hard when you're having fun. As well as that, receiving His gifts can be a little... painful at times, so we couldn't guarantee your cooperation."

With that, she reached out behind her and pulled out a slimy, four armed monster... I remembered it as a Tyranid Genestealer... oh shit... a real Tyranid infestation! Fuck!

Well, desperate times, right? You know the rest of that adage.

I swung my head back, and hurled it forwards into Jeanette's face.

Darkness greeted me.

It said: hi.

Ow. That hurt.

I stood up in my mindscape, looking around at the suffocating whiteness around me. Right, that did the trick.

Closing my eyes, I reached out with my senses, trying to remember how to talk to others.

"Yo, big guy!"

Silverite's shiny silver armor glinted off a non-existent sun as he jogged over to me. His hat's rims bobbled up and down.

"Silverite." I greeted, ignoring the throbbing on my head.

The Grey Knight turned around, and shouted into the distance.

"HEY, EVERYONE! I FOUND HIM!"

There was a whirlwind of motion. In the world of psykers, you were as fast as your mind, physics be damned.

"Michael!" Young-Zara was suddenly on me, tackling me to the ground as I turned around to the sound of her voice. She was near bursting into tears, and clinging onto me for dear life.

"I was so worried! How could I lose a guy your size? Oh... if something had happened to you..."

"Uh... something has. I'm unconscious right now. Someone's kidnapped me and now I'm tied to a chair."

Looking up at me, I realized that was a mistake. The amalgamation of Zara's every fear and worry began to cry, with tears of worry beginning to stream down her cheeks. With Eldar, any emotions that we might feel were amplified a thousandfold, and this personality even more so... dumping all of your worries and fears into a persona did have its disadvantages.

Something strong gripped the back of my neck, and dragged me onto my feet.

"STOP PLAYING WITH HER." Rumbled Big Zara, Avatar Of Khaine.

"Yes ma'am. Right away, ma'am." I immediately responded, trying to pry Young Zara off me. It only got worse from there, and I could feel her tears soaking through my chest.

"Hey, its okay... I'll be fine."

Justicar Amadeus clapped a hand on my shoulder, turning me around.

"Michael, where are you? Are you still in the house?"

"Yeah, I am. Down in the basement of the house."

A slap gave me a start, but instead of looking for a culprit among the gathered psykers, I realized it was happening to me in reality.

"Who's the closest there?" Wondered Vasili. I almost jumped out of my skin as he ninja'd me.

I thought for a second. "The Orks."

Another slap caused my vision to lose focus. The two women were trying to wake me up.

"Just get help there, fa~!"

A third slap jerked me back to reality.

"Ow."

"That was crude, Michael. I expected you to have been a much more civilized man." Olivia coldly snarled. Jeanette was nursing a bruised forehead.

"Well, then, why don't you let me go? Being tied up makes me angry."

"Oh?" She sneered, striding up to me.

"You won't like me when I'm angry."

Buy time. That was all I needed to do. These women thought they had me trapped, that nobody would come to get me before they could finish the job. Olivia hooked her legs around my waist, straddling me. Again I wondered why it was always the nasty ones that would do that to me. I mean, the first time, the lady was trying to kill me. The second time, she had just knocked me out with a baseball bat. Now this one had just tied me to a chair - in the non-kinky way, too.

"And why is that?" The brown haired woman leaned forward, just out of reach of the Michael Headbutt.

"Because bad things happen. Green things."

There was laughter now, and a sharp slap whipped my head around.

"Oh, and are you the Incredible Hulk or something?" She roared with laughter, almost in stitches now. The Patriarch was similarly laughing.

Unnoticed by them, a small sprinkle of plaster dust fell from above, onto my knees. I looked up, at a hole in the ceiling. Orks were dangling from the hole above, waiting for me. It was traditional, for them, that the Warboss would start any engagement.

I had bought enough time.

"Nah. Oi'z jus' Da Big Boss..."

Sucking in a deep breath, I let out the largest roar I could manage. Orks were impressed simply because of my size difference. In normal scale, howeer, I couldn't manage enough volume nor spit to do it justice.

"WAAAAAAAAAAGH!"

It started raining Orks.

"Thanks."

Morteus finished sawing through my bonds, and sheathed his chainsword.

"No problems, Michael. This Tyrannic taint had to be put to rest. You just happened to be in the way."

I chuckled, and looked at the two women, KO'd in the corner. The Orks had provided a good distraction for the Eldar and Imperial Psykers to pool their strength, and knock them out with a combined psychic attack.

"So they'll be alright?"

"Correct. When that woman went down, she landed on the Patriarch. That should clear any damage done... and possibly undo their memories. Ishabeth and Vasili are looking into that now."

"And what if this happens again?"

Sergeant Vinters chipped in this time, citing his experience during his stint with the Deathwatch.

"So long as we clear out all the other genestealers in this house, we'll have purged their taint... I have never known there to be more than one Genestealer Cult on any planet before, so this should be the only one on Earth. Also, there is only ever one... that would mean that there will never be another Genestealer infestation on Earth... well done, Michael."

I was almost glowing with pride. A Space Marine had just praised me.

"... thanks... I guess... "

I turned to Morteus. "Did you collect any rat's heads?"

"Yes, Michael. There was one. I have disposed of it, as you are no doubt to order me to."

"Nah. Keep it. Get someone to preserve it, so it doesn't stink, and so long as I can't smell it, you can keep it."

The Chaplain looked as if on the verge of tears. He pulled his skull helmet back on hurriedly.

"T-thank you, Michael."

I chuckled.

Zara was standing there, looking at me with her helmet on.

"I am glad you are mostly unharmed, mon-keigh." She stammered, and then hurriedly turned away to organize the purge of this house.

Inquisitor Danilov roared around on his Chimera, and shouted up.

"Are we declaring Exterminatus, Michael!"

"NO!"

"Aww..."

I stood up, and hobbled over to the door.

"Alright, lets get back to work, everyone!"