IC II: DH The Purity of Sacrifice

[BananaPhone]

Marcella

The Psyker gritted her teeth and hissed through a clenched jaw as a second las-bolt sliced into her torso like a hot needle puncturing her abdomen. That opened a second palm-sized patch on her body that screamed into her skull with the immolative touch of a burning scar as the scent of her own cauterising flesh reached up into her nostrils.

<"Son of a ****ing bitch!"> the Psyker grunted in her native ship dialect, reaching back into the immaterium and drawing a web of the Warp about her body - her material figure abruptly shimmering as if she were a mirage hovering above a hot asphault road.

"Sorry Arl I gotta take cover!" is all she could get out to the assassin before her vaporous image scythed through reality and darted underneath the staircase upon which Drimmle's trigger-happy self had been blasting away at her.

This was doubtless the same area within which Orla and Hound had retreated to, with Marcella's spectre-like image taking shape as if emerging out of a mist, two nasty looking lasburn marks across her torso, her hand clenched to one, her face carrying the black soot of oxidised ozone and her chest heaving and panting.

But if she was here in relatively one piece, that likely meant the bomb had been taken care of.