Sjonir snarled, baring his fang-like teeth as he ducked and weaved through the lasfire. His grey power armour deflected whatever struck him with ease, and yet the onslaught continued. To his right, Moki and Jhonn were experiencing similar difficulties, and Hanvor was busy making his way up the left flank towards the dug-in positions of the heretics.

Sjonir despised the hulking cities of the Imperium; they presented too many places for prey to hide; too many windows for snipers, and too many choke-points for traps. Getting through to the enemy unscathed was unlikely, although a one-armed, one-eyed, limping Space Marine single-handedly hacking a Guard company to pieces would make for a riveting tale.

He chuckled as he dived behind a slab of fallen rockcrete, savouring the moment’s reprieve from gunfire before vaulting the slab and darting back into the line of fire. Lasbolts slapped against his helmet, lacking the power to penetrate the thick power armour and proving nothing more than a minor annoyance. He could see the flak armour of the heretics now, the dull greys of urban camouflage proving no match for the acute senses of the Space Wolves; to him, the guardsmen were no more hidden than a titan in an open field.

Finally close enough, Sjonir aimed his bolt pistol in the general direction of the heretics, and loosed off a few bolts, watching them strike the thick rockcrete barricades. He growled at the ineffectiveness of his shots, and tossed the pistol aside, using his free hand to pull a battered metal door from the rubble at his feet and employing it as a makeshift shield.

He charged headlong at the guardsmen, a war cry that was inaudible to those outside his helmet surging past his lips. The guardsmen faltered and turned to flee, but the roaring jump packs of Tlossi and Gruhn signalled that they would not be escaping alive. The two Skyclaws flew high over Sjonir’s head and the ruins of the city, landing hard on the other side of the barricade. There was a swift exchange of fire, with the staccato coughs of the Skyclaw bolt pistols heralding screams of pain from the heretics. Chainswords soon roared to life, and it was over within seconds.

Sjonir kicked his way into the barricade, the rockcrete no match for power armour, and strode angrily through the ruin towards the Skyclaws,

“You stole my kills you bastards!” He shouted, pointing his chainsword at the pair.

“You took too long; the world would’ve ended before you’d finally caught them.” Tlossi replied.

“You should’ve gotten yourself one of these things.” Gruhn said, patting his jump pack.

“I’m gunna kill ya both!” Sjonir revved his chainsword and lunged at them, but the Skyclaws were faster, their jump packs screaming to life and sending them high over the city, their hysterical laughter barely audible over the noise of their escape, “Bastards!” He shouted after them, uncaring as to whether or not they heard.

Moki appeared from the right, his blue-grey armour dusty and littered with burn marks from the lasfire, “What happened? I saw Tlossi and Gruhn jump in, then you enter, and then they leave; you didn’t scare them did you?”

“I hope they shat themselves during the lift-off.” Sjonir spat, “They stole my kills! My bloody kills!”

“Yeah, well, gak happens.” Moki replied.

“Aye and so do Skyclaws.” Sjonir added.

“There’s a difference?”

“Not last time I looked.”

A string of cursing warned Sjonir and Moki of Jhonn’s approach. The Blood Claw was covered in blood, and carried his chainsword in one hand and a lasgun in the other, with its previous owner’s hand and most of his arm still attached to the trigger, “Bloody Skyclaws!” He roared, shaking the lasgun in emphasis and causing the severed arm to flap around and fling blood across the dusty white rockcrete “BLOODY SKYCLAWS!”

“They steal your glory too, Jhonn?” Sjonir enquired, still staring at the mutilated limb.

“This close,” Jhonn spat, pointing his chainsword at the arm, “This close to ripping that scumbag a new one and he takes a bolt to the chest and explodes on me.” He threw the lasgun to the floor in disgust and crushed it beneath his foot, making sure to squish the arm in with it, “I swear that if I ever see Tlossi again, I will kill him; I’ll tear his bloody intestines out and use them to hang him from the tallest peak on Fenris!”

“Sjonir already called Tlossi; and Gruhn too.” Moki stated.

“It’s alright,” Sjonir grinned beneath his helmet, “I like Jhonn’s idea better; I was just going to straight-up disembowel him, but hanging him by his own innards seems far more fun.”

“It also gives the Thunderwolves something to play with when they’re bored.” Moki added.

Hanvor poked his head around and shouted, “Oi! I’ve got lasbolts hitting me from all angles out here! Take your fair share of fire, damnit!”

“Or what, Hanny? You’ll tell on us?” Jhonn hissed.

“No, I’ll let the Skyclaws know what you’re planning, and even offer to hold you down whilst they stomp on your manhood.” Sjonir cringed at the last remark, “Now be good las-fodder and get back into the fight you bunch of wusses!”

Sjonir sighed, “Back into it then; good hunting.”

“Aye, and you too.” Moki agreed, “Don’t be tempted to break any Skyclaw necks until this thing is over and done with, though; more live marines means we take less fire, and that’s never a bad thing.”

“I can’t promise anything,” Jhonn laughed as he started forward, “Sometimes my chainsword finger gets real itchy.”

“Fine! But for the love of Russ be discreet!” Moki replied, sniggering as he followed.

Sjonir retraced his steps and recovered his bolt pistol, then quickly returned to the battle, all the while picturing Tlossi hanging from a mountain by his innards, his body being batted back and forth by Thunderwolves like a puppy playing with a piece of rope dangled in front of it. He could not contain himself any longer, and released a howl of laughter.