He locked his wrists and leaned forward, the motor of his chainsword whined as the whirring teeth bit deeper into the tiny xenos flinging bits of rancid gore and viscera across his storm coat. Another fiendish runt chose that moment to launch its attack, it lunged through the spray of its alien comrade and swung a heavy metal rod. With a short sidestep Fozaker dodged the clumsy strike and twisted his wrists causing his still revving chainsword to buck free of the now dead Ork runtling and crash down on the overextended new attacker. The second xenos died as messily as the first and Fozaker gave silent thanks to the Emperor for letting him slay the filth that sullied his world.
"Ya enjoy the killin' too much cyclops." Fozaker grunted as he looked back over his shoulder at the Fusilier who had addressed him, Krabich, the man was a blasphemer and worse but his words struck a cord deep in Fozaker, his wrath wasn't just because he hated the alien as all good Imperial citizens should, there was a need for revenge and pleasure he took from ending the xenos as violently as he could. "I only do my duty, and am blessed by Him on Earth for the effort." It was Krabich who made a disgruntled noise this time, "Ungh, save it for the Ministorum Fozaker." The pair heard a shout from the other room, it was the kid, Emil.
Fozaker pushed his way past a half collapsed doorway to find Emil straddling a thrashing, biting, kicking runtling, it spat curses in the crude Ork tongue and bucked under the weight of the young Fusilier. "Slay the xenos!" Emil shouted as he tried to strangle the green creature in his grasp, Fozaker moved forward and kicked the thing in its head with his steel capped boot, the familiar sound of bone breaking under force filled the small space within the hab unit. Fozaker delivered another hard kick and then another, followed by a series of stomps that left the creature's head a greasy ruin of flesh and gore. Emil vomited as he gazed down on the results of Fozaker's wrath, "By the throne..." the young man gasped as he wiped his face with the back of his hand.
"Seems like quite the party ya two are havin'." Krabich commented as he moved to help Emil up from the expanding pool of xenos blood. Fozaker took the moment to again state his devotion to the Imperial creed "We but do the Emperor's will." The three men stood uneasily for a moment, the high of combat ebbing as the fatigue of action set into their muscles and the immediate danger of the small Orks seemed to be over. "Everybody in one piece?" Krabich asked as he shifted his gaze between the two other Fusiliers.
Fozaker reached into his coat and grasped the only token he had left of his life before the war, a simple Aquila, made of steel and rubbed smooth by a nervous hand. The man rubbed his thumb against its cool flat surface, it reminded him of the still pond behind the old mining town he'd grown up in. The place he'd met his wife, where the local priest had anointed his daughter in the light of the Emperor; all of it gone now. He tucked the pendant back in his coat and he tightened his grip on what represented his life now, the hard leather wrapped handle of his chainsword. As Fozaker looked up at his comrades who seemed to gaze at him expectantly. "I am well, for Him on Earth guides my hand."
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