The rain on the D-4 landing platform grew heavier.
Sulfur-rich acidic rain hammered ceaselessly against Buck Griffin's carapace armor.
The brawny guard captain was kneeling on the muddy metal floor, head bowed in dejection and grief.
The Adeptus Arbites Arbitrators around him watched the scene coldly.
Their heavy helmets concealed their expressions.
Yet their slightly lowered gun barrels and relaxed stances all revealed a lofty contempt.
To them, this was merely another native mortal who had broken down after losing a beloved toy.
They had seen this sort of thing far too often on the many worlds subjected to requisition.
Within the encrypted squad-only communications channel, some had even opened betting pools on whether these natives who had crawled out of the wasteland had the nerve to pull the trigger.
Especially Rovi.
Since he had dared refuse Lord Marquez's recruitment.
They had originally thought he possessed at least some cleverness and pride. Even if he did not dare draw a weapon, he should at least have argued his case and shown some dignity as a "local snake."
Unexpectedly, he was as cowardly as a puddle of mud.
With nothing more than a threat from Marquez, he had immediately disarmed and even forced his own trusted subordinate to hand over the weapon that kept him alive.
"Heh. So-called clever people merely know better how to kneel," the Arbitrator who had taken the masterwork boltgun sneered over the communications channel.
Then he looked at the Servitor Skull flying over from beside Marquez, extended his Mechanical Claw, and placed the weapon known as Emperor's Wrath into a shockproof storage case.
Naturally, Rovi had no idea about the Arbitrators' secret conversation, but he could vaguely discern their contempt from their body language.
But he did not care what they thought of him.
What he