“We know, gene-freak.”
The captains eyes were pink with broken veins and they popped large in his face, his bared teeth a grim accessory in his violent passion.
“We know. All about you. All of it. Freak. Monster.” His lips had a pallidity to them that was in vile contrast to his overly flushed cheeks. They could hear his heavy breathing, panting like that of a dog and Lazuli could imagine each huge exhalation to expel a great cloud of ash and sparks, like some brazen beast of fire and forging. The captains squad, even with their rigid posture and steady bolters, could not mask their own passion at his words. They were executioners, cannibal killers of their own brethren and each and everyone was raised to dominate and oppress, and fellow astartes were their favoured pray.
These creatures, these Minotaurs, were radical loyal and darkly apostate in vile combination.
The Blood Angles waited in silence. Lazuli hear the vox click as every member of his own squad opened a channel to his battle helm to hear any private words he may have foe them. He had none.
The Minotaur captain, leaning forward as if trying to escape from stretching bonds, flexed his hands, his armour making groaning clicks and wirs.
“Nothing? Are you that weak?”
The Blood Angels looked to their chaplin to direct them, but he spoke neither reproach nor comfort to them.
“How does that make you feel? Little man, huh? How does it make you feel? That we know the secrete you and your pathetic brotherhood have hidden away? We know the flaw in your gene seed, the last echo of your primarchs failure.” He spat the word that millions would have venerated like it was a personal slur.
“Do you know how? I will tell you. I want to watch you shit yourself, worm.” He was a bully this man, a gross, egocentric bully. His bulky terminator armour seemed to be splitting from within, bending outwards from the pressure of his own arrogant aggrandisment.
“We stole the gene-tax. We have broken your composition down on the molecular level. We know the defects you possess.” He spread his arms, the whir of motors a sharp interruption to the steady unconscious growl from Lazulis squad. He was goading them, he wanted them angry.
“We investigated your brothers, these second foundings of yours. We even dissected them in our laboratories.” His voice dropped in pitch, but still had that awful, almost desperate level of aggression and scorn to it.
“We even have sixteen hours of hololiths depicting a Flesh Tearer begging and pleading with the echo of a traitor to repent and end his own pain.” His face was still flushed and his panting was accompanied by a rapt, intense teeth clenching smile.
“It is glorious. You are all deviants to the pure template. We will see to it that you are violated by sanctions and snuffed out. You are an imperfect order that has no business to exist.”
“Captain Lux? Did you receive that?”
The vox buzzed for a moment before the Blood Angels own captain rasped across the static; “Yes, prepare for orbital bombardment.”