Vito leaned against a hover bike, a crimson machine originally from Mars—and quite literally an old Martian model with the Mechanicus insignia. What? You're asking how Vito got his hands on it? I can only say for certain that he didn't buy it from a Tech-priest.
The young Inquisitor wore his sunglasses with effortless flair and held a drink in one hand. He looked like he was vacationing on some Garden World, but that was obviously an illusion: this godforsaken place was nothing but desert.
Every Agri-World had a place like this: a patch of land drained of nutrients by high-yield crops. Where once the earth had been lush and green, now only barren yellow hills remained. Death and desolation filled the land, coating everything in the color of ruin.
You could say that every Agri-World in the Imperium was slowly destroying its own planet. All the nutrients and soil on every world were eventually consumed by the Imperium's countless—and ever-growing—population, driving those worlds toward ruin.
Unless the Adeptus Mechanicus was willing to rebuild the planet's ecosystem, the world would have to be abandoned and struck from the Administratum's rolls.
With a straw between his lips, Vito took a leisurely sip, then raised his binoculars. Through them, he studied his distant targets: the Xenos hijacking vehicles in the abandoned agricultural town—or, more accurately, the irritable local natives.
The Xenos wore head coverings made of some kind of rag, completely concealing their faces. All that showed were a pair of lenses that could have been goggles or some kind of mechanical apparatus. Their dark, bony fingers gripped a variety of crude weapons, but for all that, they were still humanoid creatures.
"Inquisitor," said a voice. Vito lowered the binoculars and glanced behind him. The Knight of Caliban, wearing a winged helmet and carrying a sword at his hip, strode over the sandy rise to join him.
"I hope Ragnar isn't too angry."
"Then you're out of luck. When Ragnar heard you'd asked for me by name, he went to the training cages and wrecked several combat Servitors. Cole is over there cursing his ancestors back eighteen generations."
Vito laughed and gave a slight shrug. "If I needed to slaughter everyone, I'd have called Ragnar down. But this time, we need to get the job done quickly and precisely—and, above all, no one can find out that Astartes were involved."
Lancelot's laughter came from beneath his helmet. He looked down at the streets of the dilapidated town and the strange local natives wandering them.
"Besides, I hear the Dark Angels are very good at covert operations, including covering their tracks," Vito said, taking another sip of his drink.
Lancelot shrugged. "I don't know what you're implying, Vito, but I suspect you mean the Dreadwing and Deathwing, not my company."
Lancelot drew his knightly sword. "But I'm sure I can manage."
Vito smiled too and lowered his drink. "Good."
"Good afternoon, everyone."
All the Xenos turned to look. They saw a human strolling brazenly down the street, and every one of them grabbed a weapon and began shouting in a strange language somewhere between a snarl and a roar. Their guns all pointed at the audacious—or utterly foolish—man.
Vito sauntered into the town along its main street, his hands swinging casually at his sides. He smiled at the assembled Xenos as they shouted at him, apparently hurling insults.
"Sorry, everyone. I haven't learned your unique language, but I figure you can understand what I'm saying." Vito grinned and pointed at a large truck in the street.
It was an armored vehicle converted from a grain hauler. Its enormous tires let it race across the wasteland, and its sealed doors were locked tight to protect the precious cargo inside.
"Would you mind returning that truck to us? I'd be very grateful."
Before Vito had finished speaking, more than a dozen guns were aimed at his head. A chorus of weapons being cocked rang out. Vito gave a rueful smile and a slight shrug. "All right, then. Allow me to introduce my big friend."
Before he had finished speaking, a wall behind the Xenos came crashing down. Amid a spray of rubble, Lancelot stepped into the street with a Bolter in hand, and almost at once, the deadly weapon began to roar.
Bolter rounds thundered into several Xenos, shattering their bodies and spraying black blood. A chorus of snarls and curses followed as the Xenos spun around and opened fire on Lancelot with their crude weapons.
But their junk failed to leave even a single mark on the Space Marine's Ceramite armor. Lancelot swung his weapon around with speed, and the Emperor's wrath rained down on each enemy with deadly precision.
Vito drew his own Bolter and fired into the Xenos from behind. When the Xenos caught between them turned and shot at him, the Inquisitor was already moving, racing down the dust-choked street and firing as he ran.
Vito slid behind a trash can for cover. Bullets tore the battered metal container to pieces, showering it with fragments. An Xenos with a large-caliber rifle unleashed a wild barrage in the Inquisitor's direction, shouting in an unfamiliar language every so often.
But his spree ended quickly. His head exploded—quite literally, crushed to pieces.
Lancelot flung the shattered corpse aside. His bloodied hand drew his knightly sword, and he cut down another Xenos at close range. The disruptive field vaporized its flesh in an instant. Flickering arcs of energy raced across its limbs, turning the hacked remains into charred wood.
Lancelot strode through the Xenos, cutting them down amid their futile resistance. Each swing of his knightly sword killed another, and their counterattacks were weak and useless.
Vito stood and raised his gun, accurately killing two Xenos behind Lancelot as they made one last desperate attempt with the only grenade launcher they had.
Vito walked over without running, moving briskly as he aimed and fired. When he reached the grenade launcher, a Xenos holding a scimitar leapt from a nearby rooftop and swung at his head.
But the Inquisitor dodged with astonishing speed. As he turned, he slammed the magazine of his Bolter into the Xenos's forehead. Blood welled beneath the creature's mustard-yellow bandage hood. A moment later, Vito pulled the trigger, and the bandages—and the head beneath them—exploded.
Vito didn't stop. He picked up the grenade launcher and fired one of the Xenos' own grenades at the ones retreating into the town's old general store to make a last stand. The explosion burst out through the store's doors and windows. Only a shattered black hand landed on the yellow dirt.
Vito discarded the grenade launcher and walked toward Lancelot with his Bolter slung over his shoulder. Lancelot cut down the Xenos he had pinned beneath his foot. It was the last one still alive. The Astartes had efficiently, accurately, and swiftly dealt with every Xenos in the area.
Of course, that didn't include the ones Vito had killed.
Lancelot slid his knightly sword into its scabbard. He and Vito watched the general store burn. "I'll throw the rest of the bodies in there. They'll burn too, and no trace will be left behind."
Vito smiled and patted his vambrace. "I knew you could do it. I'm off to deliver the cargo. When we get back, tell Ragnar I'll give him a chance soon."
Vito headed for the truck. Lancelot watched the Inquisitor open the door and climb into the driver's seat. "When? Where?"
Vito started the engine, closed the door, leaned against the window, and coolly put his sunglasses back on. "Victoria's Capital World."
He waved and drove the heavy truck out of town, sticking one hand out to wave as he went. "Oh, and could you bring my hover bike back for me? Try not to scratch the paint."
Lancelot sighed deeply and looked around at the Xenos corpses scattered across the ground.
Before you continue