A flight of servo-skulls take to the air, blaring combat hymns in the physical realm and filling the noosphere with targeting data. Linked systems automatically stabilize, fire control systems adjust targets before their bearers fully understand what is happening, information floods down prepared channels like stormwater filling desert ravines. The battlefield resolves.

A picture snaps into place from a dozen angles. The sniper's gallery - a corpse lies thrown against the wall, flesh melted beyond all recognition, body still twitching with the flickering sparks of electricity where Magos ZRK-333 landed a hit and kill with her electromancy. Immediately the gunfire on the gallery stops - except from the enthusiastic attempts of the Imperials in the stands who are slower on the uptake.

[Notice] That body is not a Skitarii, not a tech thrall, and certainly not a power armoured ork servitor. You can see the tattered scraps of synthskin on the burned out flesh, and the Ecclesiastical decoration on the weapon. It looks like an Imperial Assassin.
[High Society] An [i]Inquisitorial [/i]Assassin.
[Bullshit Detector] This is a fucking setup. I don't know how, but you don't need me to tell you that this doesn't add up. You need to get up there and investigate - need a moment to go through the data. It's all there but this is happening too fast.

But there is another front. The Dark Angel stands in the center of a column of fire. With a thoughtfulness that would make any servant of the Machine God nod in appreciation it throws aside its bolt pistol and ammo and grenade pouch before they cook off. And then it leaps into the arena to land on the back of the Tyranid servitor, shattering its carapace with a heavy kick that it parlays into a double-handed haymaker that undoes a second. Then it grabs both corpses and breaks into a sprint, still on fire, throwing both down into the disposal pit at the side of the arena.

No sooner has it done so than two previously unnoticed det-packs attached to the servitors ignite, cracking the ferrocrete next to the arena. The shockwave of the explosion actually clears most of the burning ignitium from the Dark Angel - though its attention was already turned towards the arena doors, and it does not even look around as two chapter serfs leap down next to it, hosing it with extinguishers and putting sword and shield in its hand.

None of the other Tyranid servitors are moving from their perfectly organized lines. There is a moment of quiet. This was an assassination strike, not the beginning of a battle - but even as you start to process that you hear Spark's voice ring out.

"I denounce the Magos Passivity-SEA as a traitor and a disciple of Ludd!" cries ZRK-333 to the shell-shocked Imperials. "She has sinned against the Omnissiah and the Quest for Knowledge! She has aligned with the forces of ignorance and seeks to destroy our understanding! Come with me and we shall bring her to justice!"

There is a moment of hesitation - Imperials are generally not fans of getting involved in internal Mechanicus disputes, and ZRK-333 is not the greatest public speaker - but some of them are busy trying to extinguish their burning comrades still, and some heard the word 'traitor' and reflexively drew their swords. Give them a few moments to get worked up, swear some oaths of vengeance, and let herd instinct kick in and this crowd will form a lynch mob. And [i]then [/i]it will be war.