Gunnar raised his right hand and pressed his Lightning Claws against the assassin's stomach. The powerful current made her convulse wildly, and the stench of scorched flesh spread through the air.
"Who sent you? Which old fossil from the council? Or some Bishop?!"
The assassin's head turned toward him like a puppet that needed oil. Her twitching facial muscles formed a bizarre smile, and a black tongue sprang from her mouth, lashing about like a venomous snake's forked tongue.
A hoarse voice no human should have been able to produce rang out:
"Blood for the Blood God! Skulls for the Skull Throne!"
She had shouted the classic line of Khorne's followers. Any Space Marine knew what that meant.
Gunnar's expression darkened. He drove his Lightning Claws into the assassin's abdomen, the savage look on his face like a demon's mask, as though he would tear her apart the next second.
But after taking several deep breaths, he reined in his emotions and did not rush to kill his enemy.
The Wolf Lord withdrew his claws and stepped back. Charred intestines still clung to his gauntlet, trailing far behind it. He disgustedly shook them off, then stomped on them.
"I'm done. You can't get anything out of a lunatic like this, but at least we now know the daemons have set their sights on us again. Kitten, is there anything you want to ask?"
The Wolf Lord was unusually polite, stepping aside to let the Chaplain question her.
The Dark Angels' interrogation techniques were likely among the finest of all Chapters. They were exceptionally good at making others suffer. Of course, that was also a secret; perhaps aside from themselves, only the Space Wolves knew.
The Chaplain tugged at his green hood. He had no more questions either. If the assassin