It was a hit that would have instantaneously killed an Imperial Guard crew, but one of the Traitor Space Marines had survived, horribly wounded. Its legs had been blown away and half its face had been burned down to the bone. But it was still alive.
‘Bring us close,’ Lation ordered his driver.

Lation’s tank stopped twenty feet away from the wounded Space Marine. Goldburg, his gunner, spoke.
‘What should I load, sir?’ Lation paused for a moment.
‘Nothing.’

The thing was huge, malformed, inhuman. Its eyes were yellow, with vertical slits, like a snake’s. When its ruined mouth moved Lation knew there were words there, though it was an accent he could not understand. He slid down from his tank and landed on both feet. ‘I do not fear you!’ he shouted. He felt courage from his words. The thing snarled at him. The size of the traitor before him only became apparent as Lation drew closer. Its chest was as wide as some men were tall. It was massive, solid, though terribly wounded, and still moving as it struggled for breath. Lation drew his service-issue laspistol. He set the charge to the max, lifted the gun and sighted the thing’s forehead. This time he understood the accent.

‘Fire true, captain.’ Lation felt sick at the sound of the thing’s voice. His hand shook as it stared into him. The light of its eyes turned orange and then red, like a real fire burning.
‘Shoot, captain!’ the thing hissed. Lation fired. The first shot hit the traitor on the side of the cheek. It scored a deep burn. ‘Again!’ it hissed at him. Lation’s hand was shaking now. The next shot missed. He stepped forward for the third and held the pistol with both hands.
‘In the name of the God Emperor of Mankind,’ he called out, and fired a third time.