Alex had attempted to be affable to the catachan, so he was surprised when the sergeant simply strolled past him to talk to someone else.
He paused, just as shocked as he was irritated. A simple sergeant, ignoring him? He would have been less offended if the sargeant had...well, offended him! What kind of guardsman disrespects a commissar...

"[i][b]Junior[/b] Commissar...[/i]"

...oh yeah, right.

 While he was thinking, the sergeant had gone, robbing Alex of a chance to take him down a peg. Typical. The cultists were being mopped up as he through, there were no cowards to shoot, and no future-cowards to threaten. Wonderful. The other guardsmen would be talking to each other soon, badmouthing the cultists, their officers or their bad luck.

Or how their bad luck resulted in their officers making them shoot cultists. Alex didnt know. As long as the guardsmen didnt break any rules, he couldn't care less. Talk was for grunts anyway. He had cultists to find and kill, if the cowards hadnt got away from him.

During his thoughts, he strolled into a area he wasn't familiar with, ignoring the PDF falling over themselves to get away from him.. He saw a guardsman wearing the most peculiar set of armor, composing of rags and parts of carapace armor. Near him was a ratling sniper, with a vox caster.

What would a ratling be doing with a vox caster? And come to think of it, why wasnt he sniping the cultists? Instead he was talking on a vox...

"Guardman? Mutan...I mean, Ratling, what are you two doing in here?" He asked, addressing them both as he pulled his cap lower over his face.