[center][img]https://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjQ4LmY1ZDEwMC5TVzV4ZFdsemFYUnZjaUJJWlhKaC4wAAAA/caslon-antique.regular.png[/img][/center] The bark of an Exitus rifle marked the end of the leader of the enforcers, and then hell broke loose. In an instant, the air was filled with the revving of machines, the yells of soldiers and the steady, constant cracks and rattles of autogun fire. Before the commander's headless corpse had hit the ground, lascannons hummed, lethal charges deposited into the air towards the massed forces around the manor, and any civilians that had been sticking around now rapidly ran for cover. The arbites, being the most prominently exposed, would find themselves under a hailstorm of bullets, the Lockshields holding up admirably well considering the calibre that was raining down onto them. The guard would face equally stiff resistance. An autogun chattered out a reply, one of the vehicles wrecked as its heavy rounds smashed the steel and tore apart the engine. The fortress walls shuddered at the impact but held steady, even as more enforcers began to throw grenades or light up any guardsman that seemed too exposed. "They have snipers." The assassin's voice crackled out over the comms, before his exitus rifle would cough out its muffled shots and he would amend his sentence. "They [b]had[/b] snipers. The Emperor protect your assault. We'll handle our targets." [hr] As the firing patterns were uploaded, there came a response from inside the foundry. Adjustments, tweaks here and there, the introduction of new shooters that the squad did not have. As if to answer why this was, the heavy blast door would open with surprising celerity, a series of servitors shambling out lead by a single red-robed figure and several shirtless, augmented workers carrying the sort of personal firearms that was common among the hives. The gangers outside, clearly having not anticipated such a ferocious alpha strike fell like wheat did against the scythe, their blood ignobly trickling out onto the street. [i]Foreman Talos at your service.[/i] The red-robed figure's brass-shod staff, the end proudly displaying a faintly illuminated mechanicus skull showed his rank, the techpriest barely inclining his head in a sign of respect. [i]Please, come with me. I have learnt of the loyal mission here, and there are many things of urgency to show you.[/i] [hr] Could silence be aggressive? It seemed silly, but this silence certainly did. As the squad moved through the pitch black hallways, lights swinging about, there came an open doorway. It didn't seem to be crucial, it was slender and cheaply constructed, so certainly not a bulkhead, but that didn't reduce the number of questions it raised. Until, of course, the squad stepped through the doorway. Hardly had their lights begun to illuminate this new room when one of them fell onto a figure, dark cloak hiding them in the crook of the room. In a single movement and with barely a rustle of sound a gunbarrel would emerge, and then the entire room would blossom with light. A shotgun blast tore its way out, even as the multicoloured hues of differently-aligned las capacitor silently signalled death. Just how many figures were in this room? In the hailstorm of fire, it was impossible to tell, but none of them appeared to have sympathies for these new trespassers.