The air around Carrell crackled as a bolt of blue lightning flashed past his head, the man quickly dropped to the carpeted floor beneath him as another burst of electricity shrieked past him, charging the air around it and standing the man’s hair on end. Carrell scrambled forwards, bursting from his prone position into a hybrid of crouching and charging as he dove for cover behind the blasted remains of a stone pillar, only daring to glance back at the wall that was previously behind him to see the black scorch mark that now decorated the hewn-stone wall. A dry gulp clawed it’s way down his throat as his clammy fingers tightened around the stocky lasgun in his hand, the grip was cold in his hand, but it allowed the shake of his hands to steady, his eyes looming across the gun, inspecting it from the end of its barrel to its metal stock.

The object in his hands was something that assured him some semblance of safety, it was a weapon to strike out against what he had feared. His breathing slowed, shifting from rasping panting to a calm, deep breaths as he gripped the weapon a little tighter.

Another crackle of electricity crashed against the stone pillar he had taken cover behind, shards of broken stone clattering against the floor.

“Carrell! Take the damn shot you coward!” A sharp voice roared above another crackle of electricity, each syllable clear and fast, the voice cutting through the air with a dagger-like tongue, Carrell merely stammered out a half-hearted response “I-I-I”

The voice cut sharply “Emperor Dammit, I don’t know why Hargrave insisted you tag along for this you fucking hive-rat!” Much like her tongue, the woman that burst forwards from behind a neighbouring pillar raced forwards like an arrow in flight, he caught sight of her body through a singed hole in the cloak that billowed around her, it was nothing but a glimpse of her thigh, and the knife strapped to it, Carrel caught the slightest sight of the tips of her finger reaching for the handle of the blade as the cloak billowed again and he could see no more of her besides the back of her black cloak as he dared to look out from his cover to watch her.

She was quickly gaining ground on their target, and the source of the bolts of lightning, her legs carried her forwards like a predator on the hunt, nimbly darting and weaving behind pillars as lightning crackled through the air. She was close to the boy now, there target was a young man, draped in marred rags that hung around his body loosely, clothes for a man, unfitting on the gaunt, pale frame of their wearer.

Carrell would have truly thought of him as frail and pathetic, if his sunken eyes did not glow and dance with crackling electricity, and snaps of wispy blue didn’t ionise the air at his fingertips.

This boy was a Psyker, a being that wielded nefarious firepower at his fingertips, yet for all their power, this boy was no different to a lure, food for the creatures of the warp. Even now, as the boy continued to manifest his power in blasts of brilliant blue, the world around him distorted and warped. The slabs of grey stone at his feet had become a rainbow of myriad colours, the once solid stone shifted and warped with each crack of thunder, the smooth surface bubbled and rippled, unintelligible runes, letters and symbols sprouting from the ever-shifting floor before vanishing from existence just as fast.

She had closed the last of the distance between her and the boy before Carrell finished his thought, the boy’s palms hissed with power, but the power that flowed through him erupted too slowly. She slammed her left palm into the Psyker’s chest, sweeping her leg behind his quivering knee and slamming the child into the ground, a dull crack could be heard as the back of his skull slammed into the warped stone, a far louder crack following as a torrent of thunder slammed into the ceiling above him. With her knife in her right hand, she gripped it tight and moved to bring it down to the child’s throat.

“Sister Martha! Stop, we’re supposed to take him alive!” Carrel screamed, more of his body peeking from behind the pillar.

His response came in the shortest of cold glares, cast from eyes that were alight with rage and roared with a hatred for the small boy, who struggled and squirmed helplessly as she atop him, pinning his frail arms with her knees and raising the knife high.

Carrel brought his lasgun to bear, the stock resting against his shoulder as his eyes narrowed.

The distinctive CRACK of lasgun fire rose above the panicked yells of the flailing boy, the weapon’s brilliant blue beam struck true, transferring the energy of the blast into Martha’s blade. The Sororitas quickly tossed the blade to one side, eyelids narrowing into slits as what little of her eyes could be seen shot a stare that could pierce a man to his soul.

Her attention lost, their target shot up, slamming his forehead into the side of Martha’s head, she was stunned, surprised, but not hurt. Carrel had spent enough time with this woman to know that Martha’s skull was far thicker than a rockrete bunker wall. The boy’s eyes went wide as he shook his head in a daze, half-reeling from his own desperate attack. The Sister’s composure quickly returned as her neck span back to face down the Psyker. Her smile grew wide as she looked at her stunned captive “Let me show you how it’s done-” the last of her words seethed through clenched teeth, spraying the boy with spittle “-HERETIC!”

With a CRACK that felt like it rang far louder than Carrel’s lasgun ever had, she snapped her head forward and slammed her skull into the Psyker’s pallid face. The back of the boy’s head struck the ground far harder than it had the first time he was brought down, his wild flailing and pitiable attempts at escape quickly stopped as he slumped roughly into the shifting, stone beneath him.