As the door opened, Austen prepared himself for the next round of questioning, muttering to himself lowly. The sharp crack of las bolts and the whine of the lasguns which fired them stopped his heart. He wanted to speak, to inquire whether his fellow prisoners had perished, to lash out and face the same fate if only he could find the strength. But not a word left his lips, a deafening silence in his ears as the low rumble of warfare replaced the empty sound. They were being rescued! By the Emperor, the Guard, or even potentially Astartes, had come for them! He idly wriggled his restraints, a newfound vigor giving him hope.

And then the voice spoke. The absence of the rasping from a vox grill ruled out Astartes instantly, and he began to take in the words that were being spoken. He was cut free and sprung out of the stress position, attempting to stand fully but lowering back to his knee, allowing his legs to adjust to being free again. He met the gaze of the Major quickly, but could not for much longer. He felt humbled, his gear and even his jumpsuit stripped from him.

And soon, the corpse appeared before him, and Austen gritted his teeth, grinding them as the lasbolt-ridden stormtrooper was revealed as Inquisitorial. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, as one of the lasguns clattered before him. He gave a few seconds of thought, and scrambled on hands and knees, grasping the lasgun with his cold, numb fingers and making another attempt to stand, his knees nearly giving. But he remained upright, and attempting to meet the gaze of the Major again, he muttered.

"The Emperor protects."