Constantine Satellite.
One of the gateways to Macragge, the once-thriving orbital port world had been reduced to silent ruins.
Charred wreckage jutted toward the gray sky like broken ribs. Metal shards, the wrecks of armored vehicles, and bodies too mangled to identify littered the streets.
The acrid stench of burned plastic mingled with scorched flesh in the air.
An Ultramarines squad moved swiftly through the gaps between the ruined walls, their blue Power Armour occasionally catching a dull glimmer in the shadows.
Not far behind them, Iron Hands space marines, modified beyond recognition, were in pursuit.
Heavy footsteps drew steadily closer, mingling with the hiss of hydraulic joints and the sharp crunch of metal feet crushing rubble.
The pursuers made no unnecessary cries. Even their breathing was suppressed to near silence by built-in ventilation systems.
"Targets confirmed: 12 space marines belonging to the Ultramarines Legion.
Armament confirmed: three suits of Mk II Expeditionary Power Armour, six suits of Mk III Iron Power Armour, three suits of Mk IV Maximus Power Armour.
Deploying personnel in pursuit."
The cold scanning report passed silently through the Iron Hands' tactical channel.
Compared with those space marines of flesh and blood, the Iron Hands warriors were more like mobile automated weapons platforms.
Their armor had fused with their skeletons. Pale red scanning beams flickered in their visors, and every twitch of muscle was processed by their Servo Systems into precise combat data.
Meanwhile, hundreds of drones carrying homing missiles and self-destruct charges poured from every corner of the ruins, their bodies stamped with the blasphemous mark of the Iron Hands Legion.
The humming of their rotors wove into a low wall of sound that closed in on the Ultramarines squad from every direction.
Deep within the ruins, dozens of Iron Hands Legion warriors operated the