The buzzing stopped, and with it, the voices after the voices faded; the faces were the last to leave him as the pools of blood dried.

The constantly shifting faces held one constant among them, that damn sneer.

Their pointed teeth faded soon after the pools of blood as their faces melted into the void.

A firm hand shook Tarphus, allowing him to open his eyes once more. Tarphus found himself leaning on the elevator wall; he looked around wild-eyed at those around him.

He saw a few concerned looks on the faces of the surrounding troops made Tarphus stand up straight.

He needed to be robust, if not for himself, then for his troops. Tarphus almost growled at himself as he straightened himself, allowing the fire in his gut to burn away his fear.

Tarphus swept a hand over his brow, noting that sweat coated his hand; he noticed sweat also covered his back, but he would not acknowledge it, not in front of his troops.

These visions were just illusions of his tired mind; he would rest plenty after this assignment.

Tarphus refused to acknowledge his shaking hands; they would do nothing here.

He then turned toward the Tech-Priest with practiced ease, as he needed to set the record straight for his troops. Their stares were piercing, and Tarphus directed his mind to focus on his objective.

The terminal was empty, and the walking corpses were not near it; the world slowly returned its colors, and the muffled sounds of speech rose to meet Tarphus' ears.

The recognition of those sounds finally reached Tarphus as he remembered the overarching goal here.

Tarphus reached toward his pistol as he walked to the mumbling voices; Tarphus knew that the Tech-Priest wanted a quiet operation; therefore, Tarphus would oblige.

The Tech-Priest talked with a guardsman wearing what seemed to be combat fatigues.

Tarphus did not see any armor on the man as he walked up to the conversation.

"My sincerest apologies, Tech-Priest. It seems I am under the weather today."

That got a nod from the rebel officer, and a head tilt from the Tech-Priest as it looked up.

"Lieutenant, this one does not understand the premise; there is not precipitation nor-"

Tarphus chortles as he speaks to his friend, "Tech-Priest, it is a term of phrase that means that I feel sick."

The Tech-Priest shakes their head, "This one does not understand... So, the Lieutenant's flesh is weak and needs repairs?"

Tarphus and the officer look at one another; the officer raises an eyebrow and offers a slight conspiratorial smile.

Seeing this, Tarphus rewarded the officer with a smile as he shook his head. "I am fine, Tech-Priest."

The officer nods and turns to the Tech-Priest, "Lor-Lad-um, Honorable Tech-Priest, you and your servants are allowed to the Cathedral of Magos Cog'tinagine."

The Tech-Priest seemed almost pleased by the statement from the rebel officer.

Tarphus' feelings of confusion and misery died down a tiny bit due to this conversation.

However, the feeling of guilt could only grow as the rebel looked at him.

Tarphus knew he should kill the bastard and be over with the entire event; otherwise, he would be dragging things on when that is entirely unnecessary.

He felt the gun's weight in his holster; he knew that this terse yet polite meeting would be ended with bloodshed.

This felt wrong to Tarphus; he looked back at his troops, noticing their blood-thirsty gaze.

To them, this officer, who smiled warmly at everyone, was just a filthy traitor.

Tarphus knew every step was another step towards the officer's doom, and yet he felt such guilt over this.

They walked down many hallways through many choke points without getting noticed.

The Tech-Priest went to Tarphus' side, whispering in that monotone voice, "Lieutenant, the heretic walks before thee; how now doth thee hesitate?"

Tarphus snickers, "Tech-Priest, riddles do not suit you; speak now as a friend or not at all. I think I earned that much."

The Tech-Priest paused as it ruminated over Tarphus's suggestion, but they both knew he dodged the question.

The walk became awkward for the two; Tarphus concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.

His shame and rage began the process of bringing him back from that waking nightmare.

His grip on the pistol tightened as the officer spoke once more, "And this will be the Tech-Priest's work-"

The sound of a single shot rang out in the air as Tarphus found his face coated in gore and pieces of bone.

The officer's headless body slumped to the floor beside Tarphus as he had unholstered his pistol.

The Tech-Priest simply stepped over the now lifeless body as it spoke in that monotone voice.

"This one must appease the machine spirits; if the Lieutenant can dispose of the crude biomatter, this one will update the layout of this building for future purging."

Tarphus stared down at the corpse as he remembered the jovial conversation they had had just moments before.

Tarphus frowned as he berated himself for forgetting where he was; he quickly turned to his troops.

"I want team one to hold this area; two and three, get the specialist and the heavy teams down here. Four and five, go to the armory we saw on the way here, post up there."

The soldiers snapped to attention, but one of the squad captains spoke, "What will be the signal to open up on these scum?"

Tarphus, without missing a beat, spoke, "the turrets lining this place will begin firing on the enemies of the Emperor once the Tech-Priest is finished communing to the machine spirit."

The squads rushed around with enthusiasm, smiles, and blood lust evident in their gleaming pride.

After they left Tarphus's sight, he felt his back slicken with sweat as he leaned against the wall.

Bile threatened to tear itself loose from his throat as he watched the blood pool out of the poor officer.

The blood was everywhere, reflecting himself where a head should be, the corpse listless despite being alive minutes earlier.

Tarphus knew that it was dead, and that was its shame; this person could have been an asset to him.

Tarhpus growled at the weakness he had shown; the troops need him; this person was a traitor... right?

Tarphus paused for a second as he made sure no one was around before pushing the corpse onto its back.

Blood, so much blood, it pooled everywhere; the front of this officer's shirt was surprisingly spared.

Tarphus, with shaking hands, reached for the pockets of this man, where he found some notes.

But in his left breast pocket, Tarphus found a locket; it was surprisingly ornate, handcrafted even.

Tarphus felt an overwhelming sense of trepidation as he opened it; he saw a photo of the officer and a woman; they both looked so happy.

Tarphus looked at the corpse's ring finger. There it was, the symbol of a union, shattered.

Tears fell down Tarphus's face; he made a widow. Orcs did not matter; they were evil; those on the battlefield, he could argue that his men were his priority. But this?

Tarphus gritted his teeth as he marched into the Tech-Priest's new lair with as much false bravado that he could muster.

The doors opened without much fuss, but standing right behind them were the walking cadavers, which gave Tarphus a little fright though he would never say it out loud.

Tarphus pretended to ignore the soulless moving corpses as he worked his way to his friend.

Tarphus caught the Tech-Priest kneeling before a large table like the one on display in the briefing room.

It constantly flickered as Tarphus drew near, the chanting of ones and zeros barely audible from his position.

Tarphus coughed into his fist, which did little to catch his friend's attention.

Tarphus felt his anger rise as the Tech-Priest ignored him; it grew as the chanting increased in volume.

It reached a boiling point. Tarphus walked up to the Tech-Priest and asked, "Why did you make a butcher out of us?"

The Tech-Priest paused its incantations to look at him; if Tarphus had to guess the emotion that the Tech-Priest might have, it would be annoyance which only enraged Tarphus further.

"Lieutenant, this one needs to commune with the machine spirit for the plan to be successful."

Tarphus felt rage eat at his innards, "Answer the question! You murdered a-" "Unnecessary."

"What?" The Tech-Priest looked up from its ritual, "The officer was unnecessary to us and would have been detrimental if the Lieutenant got close to the officer."

Tarphus blinked, "He could have been useful!" The Tech-Priest's gaze was as unchanging as its monotone voice.

"The risk of the Lieutenant growing... attached to the officer was too high. Compute on the lessons that this one gave."

Rage built as Tarphus growled, "You thought that I would, what, treat that guy like another human being?"

The Tech-Priest paused its motions as it stared at Tarphus, "Did the Lieutenant not? The traitors are not human, nor have they embraced the holiness of computation."

The Tech-Priest stared at Tarphus as though asking him to say otherwise; it unnerved Tarphus.

"Can we not talk with these people? Are they not human? Are they slaves or slavers? Why did we have to kill him outright? If you give me a rea-"

The Tech-Priest's raised hand stopped Tarphus' speech. "This one deemed that the Lieutenant knew... The revelation will force this one to calculate a response."

It paused, looking down at the circle, "This one gives a patch, the Lieutenant needs the machine spirit appeased, and this one needs time for the query."

Before Tarphus could say anything, the Tech-Priest went back to praying to the large table.

Tarphus looked on with strained curiosity as his friend whispered in that monotone voice to the machine.

The Tech-Priest slowly brought out several candles, placing them on the table and lighting them.

The Tech-Priest then stopped its muttering as it pressed a button on the table.

Then that green light flared brightly, almost blinding Tarphus; the Tech-Priest started to whisper to the machine.

It traipsed its fingers along the side of the screen like a temptress would their patron.

It was then that Tarphus decided to make sure that the various teams were able to slip by the regular soldiers. That and ensure that the others were in place to destroy these... traitors.

...

Tarphus returned to the Tech-Priest's sanctuary after checking with his troops.

The Tech-Priest was panting as Tarphus got back, and the display smudged with a liquid substance that Tarphus did not want to know.

The Tech-Priest looked at him, its hooded face not allowing Tarphus to see its features.

"Lieutenant, the flesh is weak, the doubts of emotions cloud your computations, this one queries if the Lieutenant is ready?"

Tarphus felt his face heat up; his friend came with him into this hellish place, and some low-level illusion stopped him from aiding his friend.

Tarphus' hands curled into fists as his heart raced with fury at himself; the Tech-Priest would tell him.

That is what matters now; answers, if the cause of this butchery is adequate, then he would... continue, despite the distaste it holds

Tarphus felt no small amount of trepidation as he looked at the Tech-Priest, a question on his lips.

"Before we begin the slaughter, can I ask you something?" The Tech-Priest nodded almost mechanically.

Tarphus took a deep breath, "My friend, is there no other way? Why must we kill these people if they are merely following orders? Would they not be just like us?"

The Tech-Priest paused as it looked at Tarphus; it thought about what he said.

"This one shall inform the Lieutenant on the Horus Heresy and why traitors like these are not suffered to live. However, Lieutenant, if one were to ask that query, they would be killed."

Tarphus felt fear as the thought of a single question could end him in this horrible place.

"The planet from which the Lieutenant hails is a kind place, a weak place, one of hope and joy. But, on the other hand, the place from which this one hails is cold, a harsh place, a strong place."

The Tech-Priest walked over to Tarphus, placing both robe-covered arms on his shoulders.

"This place... This place is one of war and hate. One where hope is fleeting, rage is eternal, and everyone here has no choice but to wage eternal war."

...

Tarphus looked at his hands, eyes wide with fear and horror. "I- I never signed up fo-"

A single loud smack resounded through the room. "Process of percussive maintenance complete, rendering tender maintenance."

Tarphus felt the Tech-Priest wrap itself around him in a gentle yet mechanical embrace.

Tarphus felt a tendril rise from the Tech-Priest's back, and rest on his head, the helmet removed in the middle of the explanation.

It was cold, but the embrace soothed him. Finally, a monotone voice, then quietly answered him.

"Lieutenant, this one never asked to be in this world; it just happened; this world will not change, nor will it bend to ones like us."

The pause was deafening as Tarphus etched this knowledge into his heart. He felt a hand on his shoulders as the Tech-Priest backed away from Tarphus.

"This one will aid the lieutenant and repair the damaged hive; the lieutenant must lead, for this one cannot."

Tarphus looked down at his hands; they had curled into fists. He became a coward like the slimy snake that stayed on the ship.

Hatred burned at his shame; he locked eyes with the Tech-Priest and saw it.

His friend needed Tarphus, there in the subtle way that his friend would shift uncomfortably looking at Tarphus.

He was needed. Tarphus nodded silently, gathering himself against the fear and despair. Tarphus groaned as he walked over to his friend, "Let's get this over with."

The Tech-Priest nodded at his statement; then, it walked over to the screen. The nearest cadaver speaks, startling Tarphus as he stares at it.

The "servitor" was not the walking cadaver kind, as the five servitors stood outside this room.

*BOOM* Tarphus felt his entire body rock forward as an explosion burst through the door behind him. He turned only to be met by that horrible sound.

"Dirty corpse worshiper." A roar like the thing that cut him in half resounded with feral rage. Tarphus' eyes fixed themselves on the intruder; two bloodied guards flanked him.

The hallway looked as though someone told a mad artist to coat the halls, and they were only given red paint.

The smell of smoke and copper assailed his senses as the thunderous booms of footsteps approached ever nearer to Tarphus.

The roaring wail ripped into Tarphus' ears as it approached. Fear and absolute terror held Tarphus in place; he could not move as the footfalls encroached.

His eyes widened as he heard a monotone yell behind him; flame and gunfire greeted his ears and entered his sight.

Tarphus numbly watched as the Tech-Priest stood before him, the walking corpses firing at the intruders.

The blood spray splattered on Tarphus, drenching him with blood, while gunfire boomed in his ears.

Tarphus could only watch as the roar of the blade twisted and churned into a low growl that promised only pain.

Tarphus witnessed the guard on the right get shredded due to the wall of bullets.

However, Tarphus also saw the enemy with the accursed blade pushing the guard to his left in front of the flame and walking forward as his ally screamed.

The blade barer just walked up to the Tech-Priest using the screaming cadaver of his henchman.

Tarphus grabbed his pistol, gritting his teeth with such hatred and fear as he witnessed his friend's death due to his cowardice.

The growling blade hungrily dove into the flesh of his friend; time seemed to slow down as the blade stripped chunks of metal and flesh from the Tech-Priest.

Tarphus remembered the bite of that weapon; however, the Tech-Priest's body blocked his view of the bastard.

His eyes became watery as he looked at his friend drop to the floor, cut in two, the figure became much more pronounced, and he towered over Tarphus.

The giant slowly walked forwards, the walking corpses standing stock still; he spoke words shifting. "Corpse worshiper, any last words?"

Tarphus, hands shaking, pulled the trigger; like a rat barring its fangs, it did nothing as the person in front of him blurred and shifted unnaturally.

Tarphus felt it again, but this time he saw what was done to him; it started between his legs, clawing and tearing the family jewels as it slowly wound its way up his body.

The pain was too much for him to aim at the bastard; Tarphus could only manage a few shots, those being wild and horrible.

Tarphus cried and screamed in pain as the blade bit deeply into his stomach, he did not know what kept him conscious, but he desperately wanted it to stop.

It was as the bastard pushed the blade further that Tarphus heard it. Laughter. It was the laugh of the truly mad, a laugh that hurt to hear.

Time seemed to slow down as each breath became more agonizing than the last.

Tarphus could only watch in tears as the blade slowly, achingly moved towards his head.

Then Darkness finally took him.