The face of the White Scar remained completely blank as his superior officer – in the Inquisitorial hierarchy if nothing else – gave him a dressing down that was probably doing more damage to moral than anything he had said. Inside his helmet his features remained as still as the visor on the outside, and, although he could have snapped back with any number of comments, it was both pointless and would likely fall on deaf ears anyway.

Was there something going on between the Celestian and the psyker? Nergüi clearly did not understand humans as well as another human, but she had gotten very defensive over what he considered to be a perfectly reasonable series of comments.

What would she have done, he wondered, if he had simply walked back to the Imperial facility? Court-martial him, if they even survived the oncoming Greenskin horde? No, he was too valuable a commodity for such a wasteful thing. Perhaps they would have made it back, and he assumed that he would likely have had to speak with Inquisitor Solares, but beyond that...

[color=00aeef]"We have incoming, if this Astartes want's to the fight the Ork's then we shall let him do just that. Fall back into the armored bunker and set up a line of fire, you are free to engage when you see fit."[/color]

[i]So be it.[/i]

The squad filtered in to the bunker, a well-sized building that would provide adequate protection from most enemy fire, the ceiling high enough that even he could nearly stand up to his full height. Quickly he took in the rack of heavy weapons, runes on his HUD showing there dimensions in excruciating detail, the Astartes not even rocking back as a rocket launcher was thrust hard into his hands.

[color=00aeef]"Watch your back blast and pick your targets, they don't have much ammo so let's make them count."[/color]

What he would have given for an Armourbane Pattern missile launcher at this moment, hefting the highly more common and less reliable Cadian Pattern tube onto his shoulder while creating a small stockpile of ammunition nearby.

[color=ed1c24]“Enemy in sight. Please, give me some room.”[/color]

With an ease born from both genetics and training, he loaded a Krak missile into the launcher and lifted it to point out of the bunkers slot. As there was nowhere for him to place his eye, a Guard launcher not really fit for one of his type, he cycled through a number of filters within his helmet until he reached one that caused the rain and lightning to melt away – leaving only the thundering vehicles that approached their last known position.

Schematics for an Ork warbuggie flashed up to the top-right of his eye, a blink-click phasing it out as he concentrated on the moving target. Adjusting his aim so that it was a few feet in front of the hurtling machine, water skidding from the tires and the dark skin of the boyz in the open-topped rear, he squeezed the trigger and felt the missile launcher jolt as it sent the payload screaming toward where the vehicle now was.

Nergüi smiled with satisfaction as the front cabin of the foremost buggy erupted into flames, the death howls of the Greenskins sending a swift flow of blood through his twin hearts, his entire body feeling more alive than it had since landing, and even as the mass of metal overturned and crashed into an already ruined wall he was reaching for another missile.