Thumbing the comforting button beside his index finger inside his suit, Zethidis' Chainblade slithered from its hidden home and out into the open with a loud humming that equalled the volume of the scratching above. Holding his stormbolter up to the ceiling he tore into it with the several rotating blades, firing steadily into the hole he created.

Over the tremendous thunder of his gun and the  endless groaning for his chain fist, his chilling voice could be heard over the comms - his helm stayed fixed on the two corridors to the left, he wasn't evening looking at what he was doing, but strangely he was unwavering accurate in not shooting himself.

"Am I the only one with bullets Brothers? Come, shed some blood for yourselves." Zethidis' haunting laugh scratched across the comms like a rolling thunder, a volcanic eruption of hideous thrill.