DIVISION 52 - BOOK I

CHAPTER LXII

– P R O X I M O –

"Dazz" I spoke clearly, masking the carnage we had left–the fusion round a few millimetres from my femoral artery.

"The rooftop artillery is still down." She confirmed.

I nodded to myself, tightening a wrap around my leg and pushing more clotting powder into it.

"I need a clear path down to the underground craft bay. It will be clear now they know what Scorpion plans to do up there." I grunted as I shifted to a limping stand. I finished shedding my burned Vanguard and started replacing it with the Imperial armour of a dead guard. Relatively clean given that my blade stuck out of his throat–

"There are units piling up those lifts to one place–she's causing a total mess."

"That was the point." I growled. "Focus on getting our own out for now–"

"Four of her personal guard are still in that ballroom as far as I can see and their cover has not been blown."

"Upload the route to the underground now. Do it quietly and inform them to approach the doors as quickly as possible. Octavius is in the lobby for back up."

"Forwarding now." She confirmed calmly. I saw my own holo lenses light up with the route and information. Good enough. "What about you?"

I glanced down at my full Imperial armour and hefted a fusion gun onto my back. I paused and glanced at the ID number on his right arm.

"I need a quick background on an Imperial unit number. Sending your way."

She remained briefly silent as she worked this over. I continued to re-equip armour with weapons and hidden blades. My window of time was fading. Dazz could only fault the lifts past this floor for so long before they took the damn stairs.

"Jacob Reece. Unit 13, resides in Sector 8 and is on shift tonight to reinforce security on the gala event." She informed me. I nodded and fixed his gloves into place before pulling a shining visor down over my head.

"That will pass for now. Let's make sure it doesn't come down to confrontation." I murmured.

"Get to the lift now, I will take you down." She ordered.

I moved as swiftly as burnt tendon and severed muscle would allow in one leg. The piles of bodies and remnants of smoke would be all they found of Division 52. If the Emperor was not dead already the war that followed would end in more of it. I shrugged the gun across my shoulder and sought thoughts of the task at hand.

The lift lit up before me and clouded doors swept back. Empty.

"I'm in your hands sister. Try not to kill me." I said flatly as the doors closed.

"A suspended glass box is hardly creative." She noted as it swept downwards quickly. Numbers flashing by in descent.

"You've never had to take a life. Your words hold no weight."

"You're holding all the weight, Prox. 110 kilograms of it–"

"As much as I appreciate your in depth analysis could we focus on the task." I snapped. "Besides muscle is denser than fat."

A snort over the comm. "You make it too eas–shit."

"What is it." I demanded.

"Lift request from the head of security on floor 95."

"Deny it–"

"He has his own personal override you simpleton, just play the part well." She said quickly as the lift suddenly slowed and pinged once. I tightened my hand around the pistol at my hip.