An Iron Warrior "retreated" in blind panic and ran straight into Situval's squad.
A short blade sliced off a head with precision and elegance. Situval's bladework remained exact, but days of continuous fighting had left him mentally exhausted. The drugs in his armour had long since run out. His power core and armour had been replaced once, but there was no replacing the man inside.
Situval's steps slowed, and the sight before him let him relax. Ralph was pounding an enemy Terminator's head, punch after punch. Severed limbs littered the ground before him. The Iron Warriors had died amid iron.
Several suits of Adamantium Armor lay on the ground, their occupants either unconscious or dead. Only two men were still moving.
Ralph finally stopped punching and hurled his dead enemy to the ground.
Another warrior was using an enemy's Adamantium Power Sword to deliver repeated overhead chops. Every weapon on his body had been destroyed in the fighting. One arm bore a broken Siege-Breaker Thunder Hammer over its gauntlet; the other had the snapped muzzle of an Ion Storm. He could only trap the enemy's Power Sword between the edges of the broken weapons on his hands and hack downward at his opponent, again and again.
The members of the Imperial Fists squad helped him finish the job with a few shots, finally killing the enemy cowering inside his Terminator armour.
"Ralph, can you still move?"
"I can kill another eight."
"You can't say 'another,' Ralph." One of the suits of Adamantium Armor lying nearby suddenly spoke. "You only killed seven. I killed the other one."
"Just keep lying there. However many more I kill, you won't have anything to do with it."
The warrior on the ground immediately grew agitated and shouted at Situval, "Chief Apothecary! Can you get