Engines roaring, the Rhino clanged like a bell as the tank slammed into the wreck of another ruined vehicle. Munitions hammered against its armoured flanks in a monsoon of firepower, ending only as the tank slammed into the shooters.
Sergeant Isko laughed.
“Right in at the bloody end, brothers,” he said to the scouts strapped in to the restraint harnesses. He got a few short smiles from the younglings.
“On your feet, Iron Hands,” he barked. The scouts sprang up, grabbing the overhead hand holds as the Rhino lurched to one side.
“Brothers,” Isko couldn’t keep the grin from his face. “Be joyful. Battle is the purest action man can enact. It will sharpen you, refine you.”
He held up his agumetic hand, “I lost this in my first mission. My purification. This is yours.”
“What are our orders, sergeant?” One asked.
“Kill, brother Indrik. That is all. When we open those doors we will be at the heart of the manufactory. We will strip away the impurity of Xenos flesh and return the purity of the machine.”
The Rhino banged and rocked as something exploded against it.
“Are you pure, brothers?” The scouts looked at him, seeing his lips spread wide, his ugly metal teeth on full display.
“Are you pure,” Isko repeated, slamming his metal fist into the tanks ceiling.
“No, sir,” the scouts chorused.
“Are you strong?”
“What will make you so?”