This was all kinds of messed this was. If this was what things were like the further into the void people got then Barrows would have taken the madcap simplicity of orks and 'nids any day over this. 

Just when the hot cracks of lasfire and thumping combat boots brought some hope to the beleaguered Catachan's heart and got it thumping again with something besides just rage and a sense of weakness and fear that his narrow mind refused to face or accept. That rise in feeling got a nasty gut punch when they turned over the corpse and he saw that unmistakable 'I'.

"Shit..." Barrows muttered under his breath. That symbol right there was a boogeyman round the campfire even in his neck of the jungle.  

Around him lines were getting drawn in the sand as some of the other prisoner folk around him went picked up a rifle and set their feet in for all their own reasons. All Barrows could think was: What in damnation had he done to earn the eye of the inquisition? He'd never left his regiment until now! His whole life was spent in the jungles fighting xenos, folks like this should have been patting him on the back! Even this fancy pants officer in front of him was saying he was part of some "Holy Order". A shadow order... well Barrows had never heard of it. 

Wait a minute, had one of them just called them the new recruits? Were they the reason he and the others were here? This was his special assignment and the inquisitors of all people took issue with it! During the few times him and the Devils had troopers from beyond Catachan join them around the campfire they'd spread stories about the shadowy agents of the Emperium and the endless schemes they made that no one could make any sense of. A lot of them involving betrayal and throwing lowly guardsmen like himself under the tank treads. 

Barrows had never believed something so grand and threatening could be so incompetent though! He did believe they'd sacrifice people like him without a second thought but that wasn't anything new. Was this what was happening now, had he gotten caught between two warring inquisitors who were stepping on each other's toes the only way people like this could? Throne's sake none of this made any sense. To hell with it!  

With a growl and a grunt the Catachan stretched his aching limbs and scooped up one of those offered guns. All around him the others were asking their questions and making their cases. Looking through the dim light it looked like the prisoners were ready to go for each other, let alone their captors. Barrows eyed them, measuring each one up. The one with the metal face looked like he could be an issue. The rest... hmm. With some back up he figured he could handle them. One of the lasses was built like a tank trap and looked like she could lift the others over her head but one was practically a kid and another one just looked tired. 

Then there was this one with the hollow, intense, eyes. [b]"You two men have most likely sworn some oath to our God-Emperor, and to be loyal to his delegates. You should take these arms, and arise for what is right."[/b]

"Seems like he's sayin' they're workin' for our beloved emprah too, Muchkin." Barrows said to the grey eyed trooper. "And that badge says otherwise." He nodded to the dead storm trooper at their feet. "Tell you what though, I made my oath and wore it with pride, and the folks who tied us up burned it in front of me!" While they laughed and shamed him in ways Barrows didn't want to think about. "No loyal man does that to another and I aim to take them to task for it." 

Whether they were in the wrong or not didn't matter any more. Like the grizzled officer looking type from their numbers said, their choices were getting killed here or getting killed later and Barrows would always choose going down swinging. Besides, he'd promised himself some kind of retribution on those that had done this to him. 

"And just what the hell is the shadow order anyway?" He barked over the other trooper's shoulder to the others in the doorway. He'd make better sense of this later but for now he'd stick with the people who weren't torturing him.