The Emperor’s Angel of Death

After approaching the target, Alvarez discovered that, as he had expected, the city's energy control center had very few guards.

They were staring in astonishment at the jagged black shapes emerging from the clouds, the Raptors circling the city in swift arcs, their routes intertwined with arrogant precision, carving something into the sky.

Alvarez also noticed his brothers, holding prey in their hands, or simply hanging them on the iron hooks and spikes on their bodies, just indulging in wanton slaughter without any purpose.

Had they forgotten that the mission was always the priority for a Space Marine? Had they fallen so far? The Night Lords had long vowed to overthrow the lies of the Imperium, but watching his greedy, screaming brothers, Alvarez wondered what drove them now, merely dark desires?

With this feeling of helplessness, he began his dive.

By the time the guards in simple armor on the top floor of the energy center finally noticed him, he had already reached out, slicing between a pair of fleeing guards, neatly bisecting them at the waist, turning two people into four.

Landing, he turned to see how far their legs would run without obstruction, but they simply toppled over.

"Ha!"

Alvarez grinned, turned, and headed towards the extending staircase, speaking into his crackling vox:

"Target reached."

But no one responded, only those eerie howls.

After a few minutes, a vague, wet voice finally came through.

"Do your own thing, and stop asking us."

Alvarez cursed inwardly and then turned off the vox; discipline was gone, and all plans became whimsical the moment the action started, but he still had his job to do, and that boring hunt was for the Raptors and his master.

The Techmarine made his way down the stairs, killing any guards he encountered along the way, and not bothering to chase after those who fled.

So, by the time he reached the main control room, it had already been completely evacuated.

Alvarez stowed his weapon, then deployed the two-layered mechanical servo-arms from his backpack, inserted a large number of data cables into the cogitator array, and began shutting down the energy supply to various areas of the city.

Then, he heard something and abruptly severed the connection, grabbing the bolter pistol from his thigh.

The main control room was as dimly lit as before, only illuminated by the glow from various screens.

The instant he looked up, Alvarez froze.

For a brief moment, he thought his brothers had finally decided to turn on him, but then he realized these were not his brothers.

They stood or crouched on the steel beams, wearing midnight blue armor without any signs of decay or corruption, white lightning etched onto the armor's surface, and blood-red bat-winged skulls on their shoulder pads, which were rarely seen anymore, but strangely, the silver-gray Aquila remained on their chests.

They were like crows staring at the living from the dead branches of a graveyard, each silent and still, yet each watching Alvarez, the many pairs of scarlet lenses in the darkness seeming to scrutinize, or rather, judge.

"Who are you—"

Alvarez scanned his surroundings, discovering that there were at least fifty or sixty of them; he suppressed his urge to attack, glancing at the entrance out of the corner of his eye.

Two more figures stood there, one wearing a very new model of power armor, a skull mask covering the front of the helmet, and blood-red bat wings swept back from either side of the helmet; a massive chain glaive rested diagonally on his shoulder, a weapon Alvarez had only seen in records, one that the legion's commanders had greatly favored in the past.

The other wore armor as black as ink, with a bird-like helmet, and held a black longsword.

"Yaa-yaa-yaa, look who's fallen into our lap."

The black-armored warrior poked the floor with his sword, making a threatening scraping sound.

"A little bat who knows how to play with machines; now we've got an apothecary and a Techmarine."

Saying that, he nudged the person next to him with his shoulder.

"I'll be the chaplain; we can even build up the chapter structure."

But the other person ignored him, only looking at Alvarez.

Alvarez hesitated for a moment; he knew that resisting at this point would be a dead end, and these people seemed very strange, not like the Night Lords warbands he knew, but more like the legions of the old Great Crusade era.

But the legions were long gone; that was the truth he had always been told, and seeing so many legionaries at once made it hard for him to accept.

But there was nowhere to escape in this place, so there was only one choice.

Alvarez stowed his weapons.

"Brothers, I am Techmarine Alvarez of the Shadow Ghosts warband; what can I do for you?"

The tall warrior with the chain glaive tilted his head after hearing his introduction, then said softly in Nostraman:

"How long have you served?"

"One hundred and five years, standard Terra time,"

Alvarez replied, also in Nostraman.

"Always with the Shadow Ghosts?"

"Yes."

Suddenly, the other person took a step forward; Alvarez instinctively took a step back, his hand reaching for his weapon but not grabbing it.

The person slowly walked up to him, seeming to examine him closely; Alvarez was also examining this warrior who was a full head taller than him; suddenly, the other person spoke:

"Take off your helmet."

Although the commanding tone was very unpleasant, he had no choice but to bow his head under the eaves; to survive, Alvarez had no choice but to comply, taking off his helmet to reveal the signature Night Lords face and a neatly trimmed head of short black hair; although he was in a Chaos warband, Alvarez had always paid attention to his personal image and hygiene, his dark eyes paired with a marble-like cold face and a slightly upturned nose, making him handsome enough.

After a few seconds of silence, the person with the chain glaive circled him again.

"I didn't expect there to be a normal person among that group of lunatics and freaks."

Alvarez calmly replied.

"Because lunatics can't maintain machinery and equipment."

"That's right, so according to the previous attack patterns and processes, I guess there must be a Techmarine in this warband to shut down the city's energy; Vashtorr is too obsessed with darkness; even the light from a flashlight would make him uncomfortable, right?"

Alvarez didn't speak.

Then, the other person put his hand on his shoulder, saying with interest:

"I can allow you to ask three questions, but you have to be careful; I will also decide your fate based on the questions you ask; you have ten seconds to think."

After speaking, the person began to count down.

"Ten, nine, eight, seven—"

"Who are you?"

Alvarez quickly asked his first question.

The person laughed softly upon hearing this, shrugged his shoulders, and then pointed to the symbol on his shoulder pad.

"You see, we are the Night Lords, descendants of the former legion that was called traitors; we can tentatively call each other brothers, so there are still six seconds; six, five."

Alvarez glanced at the Aquila on the other person's chest and immediately asked.

"Who do you serve now?"

"Serve brothers, bloodlines, and goals, so, four, three, two—"

Alvarez blinked and finally spat out a sentence.

"Can I join you?"