The Scorned First Platoon, what a bunch to have fallen into. Corporal Jericho Cross, former Grenadier of the Death Korp's own Siege Regiments, was sitting eerily still as the Valkyrie hurtled down towards whatever misbegotten planet he was going to fight upon now. He was strapped into the transport vessel that the Guard favored, and he found himself missing the cramped, metal boxes that were the Chimeras rolling forward to deposit their Grenadiers into the heart of the enemies weakest point. That was his job, while the regular Krieg troopers ground away in the trenches, where he would indeed spend much of his time as well, it was the Grenadiers that took the special jobs. The Death Korp had no Storm Troopers, Grenadiers were the closest they got to that, and he was it. He missed the trenches, they didn't rock around nearly as much, but he went where the Emperor willed. And glory be unto him, he was willed to be here, with former gangers and penal legionnaires. The others of the platoon registered little to Cpl. Cross, they were marching into death with him, that was enough. They would die, or they would succeed. Let the Emperor judge them for their deeds otherwise, as he did in all things.

The brief was simple enough, charge into the jaws of the enemy, snatch a figure vital to the Imperium out of them, and get them to safety, or die trying. Death and suicide missions were no stranger to the Krieger, their bread and butter was suicide missions, hopeless sieges, and impossible odds. And, by the grace of the Emperor and sheer statistical certainty in numbers, they won. The Krieg Grenadier was silent, face unreadable under his gasmask and respirator, only the steady breathing and checking of his Mark XIV Lasgun ever indicated he was even awake, or alive. The Lieutenant was crass, as expected from a ganger, but the Krieger said nothing, she was in charge, and that was that. She could order the Krieger to leap into the maw of a greater daemon with nothing but an entrenching tool, and he would do his damn best to take it with him. Being informed they would be defending the bridge first reassured the Krieg Grenadier, after all, siege work was as much defending your line, as it was breaking theirs. Cpl. Cross felt right at home with the idea, and was merely waiting for the Valkyrie to reach the drop point. The men of Krieg had faced daemons and traitor Marines before, and today, another Krieger gladly did so again.