[i]Stay alert and kill anything that moves, we are not here on a mercy mission; [b]remember, we are the hammer![/b][/i]

The words of the Justicar echoed in young Olympio’s mind. Naturally with all the psycho conditioning he received and with the fact this was his first blooding he did not feel anything even close to remorse, regret, or hesitation in this act of genocide. He was however rather saddened by the fact there was not a redeemable soul left in this locale. Even before the drop pod landed Olympio scanned the minds of the world’s denizens. Many were thinking of simple mundane things, the pictures of innocence. Families lived and loved, tragedies and triumphs were had, and the things that the Grey Knights were ultimately fighting for thrived on in the world. But these people they were descending to meet would have none so much as deserving the Emperor’s mercy, only death in a most spectacular way possible with the hope of insuring that from the corpses present the seeds of heresy would not at a later date sprout again as they had to create this little scenario for the Strike Squad.

As they entered the drop pod Olympio started a prayer, looking at his brothers while speaking to himself. He felt now that he had not articulated the full extent of what he had felt aboard the vessel, but alas now it was too late to worry their minds with the esoteric. Only bloodshed awaited them, and that they would more than do their duty in. Olympio knew he had not the fiery pyrotechnics of one, nor the bladework of the other, nor the veterancy of the Justica. But they would be blind insofar as he saw, relying on the fact they were to only deal with rabble at most having a mark or two of Slaanesh to empower them. 

As the pod hit the earth Olympio was the last to exit, making sure he finished his prayer before joining the fray. The scene initially seemed empty, a ghost town being their field of battle. But soon scanners, superhuman sense and a psychic reading of the town revealed that this was not in fact true. A horde of enemies soon descended upon the Knights who clearly had been expected. Olympio pressed his blade to his face, before flourishing and charging into the thick of the foe with the simple words [i]“Emperor!”[/i] on this mouth. He did not fire his stormbolter, believing that the strength of the enemy did not merit the waste of precious psybolts when a nemesis force weapon would more than suffice. Sure, he took a lot of las and auto fire that he could have avoided but other than the occasional scratch upon his armour it would be nothing of note. Indeed as the distance closed the Marine already felt that he could track the movements of the heretics before him and evade their fire with janky movements, while being able to outright dodge some of the ballistic projectiles they spat at the holy warriors.

As he neared the lines of the amassed foe he jumped over their overwatch fire crushing two hapless foes under his ceramite boots. He had to act fast then to not get overwhelmed by the enemy surrounding him but this was not particularly hard with a nemesis force blade in his hands. A single pirouette with the blade split in twain the first wave of oncoming attackers and from then on he rushed forward to make use of the space he had just made by cleaving a further line in the enemy formation. Some of the enemy tried to parry with their improvised blades and bludgeons but this didn’t work. Olympio didn’t even try to go around their blocks, knowing his weapon would simply cut through their unrefined plasteel arms. He cut through more and more of the foe, but as the combat went on he noticed the enemy parted from him rather than trying to envelop the warrior, and it was clear why moments later. The terrain around him started to exploded the few heretics that did not get away being nearly instantly vapourized by the autocannon mounted on a roof. It was a rather surprisingly powerful one with twin barrels allowing it to cycle at twice the speed of a typical autocannon, a perfect weapon to rip apart space marines carrying both the rate of fire of automatic small arms and the potency to actually penetrate armour of a lascannon. More shots from the weapon rang out, one shell detonating dangerously close and leaving one leg of the Grey Knight broken. Olympio cursed his arrogance, knowing that if he failed to pay attention to his surroundings but a few moments longer he would now be a red mist rather than simply possessing a leg broken by the shockwaves. 

Once more he zigged and zagged with superhuman speed of Astartes to insure the shells narrowly missed him. He knew he could not persist like this forever and he could not rely on his Brothers just yet for they all had their own little battles to deal with. He breathed in, closing his eyes momentarily in spite of the grave danger he was in. This was not the moment to try and make predictions faster and more accurate than he had before, but it was the only way out he knew  — but he only needed a few truthful milliseconds! He slowed down, and eventually he turned side ways just narrowly avoiding a strafe of foretold exploding munitions before raising his sword and letting witch-lightning leap from it’s tip all the way to the roof, connecting with the feed-system of the guns and overcooking their ammo with a bright and gory display. Letting more lightning leap from his finger-tips to the heretics running at his back thinking they had an opportunity, he once more took a two-handed grip upon his blade and charged into a clump of gunmen. The Grey Knight could only hope that the Justicar would forgive him for using his powers unbidden when the squad may well have been expected to ration them for the all but inevitable case that a greater foe appeared.