A Day In The Life Of: Lord Commissar Owen

The vox barked with data-code, a transilator-servitor relayed the message into a monotone High Gothic. "Sector 12-b, four active data cores, recover." Sector 12-b was the point of contact with the traitor marines, Owen began issuing new orders.
Along with the Wolf Pack, a 609th veteran squad, he traveled up the polluted river ahead of the infantry line. His target was an enemy-held data core near the bridge, and his vox was reporting traitor dreadnoughts en route.
Using the chimera for cover, they began a firefight across the road, the Wolf Pack's plasma gunners keeping the marines out of combat. Reserves were being slow to arrive, and the vox was strangely quiet as platoon ivory attempted to hold the line. Often, lances of lascannon fire would strafe into the heretical machines, but it was not enough.
After brutal shelling and constant bolter fire Owen stood alone with Sgt Huckish. They blitzed across the street, and dived into the traitors with powerfists. Reserves began to arrive as Huckish and Owen bellowed Imperial prayers and smashed power armour, then the dreadnought arrived.
The last thing the Lord Commissar remembered was the sensation of flight until it was ended by what could have only been a building. The ogryn-servitors, who had seen their commissar sent flying, went on a killing spree. So enraged, they tore the dreadnought limb from limb, crushed the heretic techmarine, and finshed off the marines at the data core.

Even above the wail of a punisher cannon, and the death screams of a greater daemon, the remnants of platoon ivory could hear "Come play with Dolly!"
Transmission ends.

Non-Standard Transmission (possible traitor communique): <-w->
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