The unkempt Damon leaned against an ancient brick wall, somehow produced a cigarette from his person, and fired his shuriken pistol at its tip. The monomolecular-thin projectile ignited it.
"Give me one."
John moved closer. In the darkness, the only light on Damon was the faint glow of the cigarette tip.
"This is the only thing that still feels the same as it did thirty thousand years ago. Back then, I was fighting that shitty war on Iwo Jima. Only a cigarette like this each day could help me relax a little."
John inhaled hard. In just a few short drags, the burning ember consumed the entire cigarette.
He coughed sharply several times, trying to adjust to the overly harsh taste.
"Damon, if we want to complete this mission properly, we have to do it ourselves. There isn't a single Primarch we can count on anymore."
"Let me kill Vulkan with that Fulgurite Spear."
The other Perpetual agent merely looked at him suspiciously. Their relationship was hardly good, but as two of the few humans within the Cabal, they got along well enough.
This Perpetual agent, older than John, sensed that something was wrong.
"My instincts tell me you're about to do something stupid, John. Tell me my instincts are wrong."
A faint gleam flickered in Damon's eyes, making it impossible to tell whether he approved or opposed the idea.
"Those big shots in the Cabal specifically sent me to keep an eye on you, to stop you from doing anything foolish at a critical moment. Looks like they were right."
Yet John shook his head firmly.
"Why would you think that of me? We became traitors to humanity long ago. Over these tens of thousands of years, we've done far too many things that harmed humanity for the sake