Well, if he thought what had happened to himself was awful... finally drawn to actually pay attention to it by its bleating for his attention, he saw the dark shape for what it was, a fellow 31st Millenium Dark Angel it seemed, but in such a state of disrepair that he could barely talk. And "disrepair" wasn't a bad term for it, either, considering the servo-arms and symbol that marked him as a definite member of the Mechanicus of their shared time, noted as Lucius approached and knelt down beside him. He was already judging whether he might be able to repurpose the armour to fit the plugs in his own Black Carapace- was that Artificer? It seemed reasonable to assume it was- as the man removed his helmet, revealing a surprisingly youthful face, one pale from an unusual amount of lost blood, and traumatised by some recent revelation.

Ah. Of course. He hadn't realised Chaos' machinations yet, hadn't seen that their passage through the fabric of space-time had inexorably corrupted them both, up until this moment. And from the sound of it, hadn't been subjected to the same torment Lucius had. Was that so for every other Dark Angel who had been flung into the warp rift that day as Caliban destroyed itself beneath their feet? Was Lucius himself, dare he suggest it, [i]unique[/i] in that regard? And if so, why had he been singled out for such torture so personally?

And only now did another flash of memory return to him. No moment of his final battle was this, though; the fragment he received from whatever held his mind hostage was assuredly a more sociable time, a welcoming into that day's firing rounds of a brother in arms, a Techmarine with a familiar face.

And a name.

When he came to from that, he realised the man on the ground before him had raised his bolter- he still had his weapons, then- aiming it at the red-armoured Marine, splattered with gore and bearing an unfamiliar symbol on his pauldron. Did he recognise it? In a way, it was much like the banner of the Imperial Fists... but far be it for him to care overmuch about whatever Legion he came from, for now he was being targeted by his brother Marine. Lucius felt he should probably stop him. Him. The man called...

'Xephe-'

A loud CRACK rather surprised Lucius, knocking Xepherial to the ground. The impact point had bled heavily before clotting, and the force of the blow had surely... not killed, but probably brought him that many steps closer to death's door. And of course it was an Ork who had delivered the strike, because why on Terra wouldn't it be? That explained the green flash he'd seen earlier, at least.

With an unruly sigh, Lucius got up and, with his sword as a walking stick of sorts, paced unsteadily over to the nearest tube, examining the black substance or organism or whatever was contained in it in little detail, at the same time coming up with the most scathing insult he could think of. Eventually, he began to turn back around, uttering 'Why would you do that, you stupid, thick-headed, Wolfoid creature,' before he realised that the Ork too had fallen unconscious. Of course he had. He didn't know Orks could even fall unconscious, and it annoyed him that now he'd not be able to chew the thing out. 'Why do- why bother? Why do I bother?' he continued, turning back to the tube and resting his forehead against it.

'Why in the WARP! Do I BOTHER?!' he yelled, slamming his fist against the glass as hard as he dared to avoid breaking it, and this was certainly a rare sensation nowadays - legitimate anger and fury, quite unlike his usual malaise, which even now was settling back in, drowning him in tar-like apathy once more, and reminding him that he was in fact injured himself, quite severely in fact, and shouldn't be exerting himself overmuch. Again he turned back to the room, examining who was still upright and sane - Ga'duk, obviously; the newcomer, who he figured he might as well talk to; the other Space Marine, the Emperor's Child, perhaps the only one he could actually discuss matters with at this time; and his own... wait, no, he had curled up in a strop.

'What's your problem?' Lucius asked as he passed the wimp, who was still crying, really? He worshipped things he couldn't grasp, and a little bit of combat had him terrified like this? The hypocritical worm wasn't even injured, bastard that he was.

'I-I-I-I c-can't feel it, m-my l-lord...' the worm whispered.

'Hm?'

'Th-th-the W-w-w-w-... Wuh-wuh... m-m-my p-powers...'

Oh. Ohhh, that might be what that black substance was, then: anti-psychic material, however it had come into being, cutting off the connection to the Warp of any psyker who entered, including the telepath who called himself Lucius' loyal servant. And, if he paid attention, perhaps the cyborg quivering in the corner too, though how that might be he couldn't say. 'Best you don't discuss that with anyone else in the room,' Lucius offered, only to walk off uncaring of the cultist's plight.

And now came the actual objective. The narthecium identified the unfamiliar Space Marine as an Apothecary, though the appearance of the device, and indeed of the man's very armour, was quite clearly different to the latest models that had been available at the time of Caliban's destruction. Better? Perhaps. He'd need to figure that out, but since he'd already been told to fix Xepherial and the Ork... and he'd shown clear hostility toward this "corpse-god"... which was what, exactly? Surely it couldn't refer to the Emperor of Mankind himself... but going by his Dark Angel brother's reaction to the term, there was surely some connection between the two, so maybe... either way, best to be safe on this one.

'Okay, my good man,' Lucius started quietly but bluntly, clapping the armoured man's shoulder with his free hand in a manner that was obviously not overly friendly. 'You've been tasked with fixing up the black-armoured Marine, as well as the Ork. I believe I would like to be your third patient today after them. Only, I need to tell you this now, but if you put so much as one gene in one cell out of place, in myself or my brother-Marine, I will personally tear your skull open and rip out your brain. Sus-an Membrane first.'

Threat delivered, and in a manner that was all but devoid of emotion so as to convey the fullness of his intent if the Apothecary didn't comply, Lucius stepped away, heading to... ugh, he didn't even know who. Ga'duk wasn't a stimulating conversationalist, and his minion was a little bit out of touch to consider lording over right now. Likewise the Tech-priest in the corner and the Apothecary's gore-covered allied... he supposed the last Space Marine in the room, then, the one who had apparently opened and closed the door in the first place. Whatever his name was. He might be interesting to talk to whilst he waited for his treatment, anyway... perhaps he should watch over Xepherial whilst the red-armoured Marine did his job, but he didn't care quite that much. The threat could be delivered on whenever he felt it appropriate, at any rate.

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