High Inquisitor Filib MacNìll, a strong man, and a smart one at that, led one of the first teams of witchhunters in the Reich, and the most experienced. They had over thirty sting operations, locating and eliminating covens and sanctuaries of mages, both in and out of Inquisition territory. So when the Grand Inquisitor and his lead scientist needed a team to field test a new armor for his men, he volunteered his squad.

So here they were, the five of them in an Intervention Dropship enroute to a mage safehouse on Sansisk. They had been having difficulty adjusting since the dominion, so Witchhunter teams had been deployed throughout the planet to stomp out resistance. As the dropship roared to a hover position, it set down on the roof of the safehouse, the exit ramp opening as the Witchhunters exited, weapons raised, clearing the roof.

“LZ clear. Let’s move into the safehouse. Weapons hot, assume anyone inside is hostile.” Filib said as the squad stacked up on the door. Below, Inquisition grunts had secured the surrounding streets. No one was going in or out of the area until every last mage was dead. This wasn’t a war, this was a purge.

Filib tested the doorknob- it was locked. The heretics knew where they were coming from. Or so they thought. He opened up the building’s floor plans on his HUD- right below them was the top floor. He took out a small explosive charge, setting it on the roof. He ran behind a set of vents, clicking a remote detonator. A small tick, followed by an explosion blew a hole in the roof as the Witch hunters sprinted in, guns raised. Two mages were in the room, both only just turning towards the explosion. Filib dropped one with three well placed shots center-mass.

The next muttered an incantation, a small fireball flying at the Inquisitor. It hit him in the leg as another member of his squad opened fire, killing the mage with terrifying efficiency. Luckily, as he stood, he realized that the armor had done its job. Such a shoddily cast spell had no effect on the armor, much less his body underneath.

Another mage burst from another room, lightning arcing towards one of the other witch hunters, who rolled to the side as Martinez, the squad’s medic, put a round through the rebel’s skull, painting the wall red and pink with blood and brain matter as the man fell backwards.

“Nice work, gentlemen.” he said as Martinez let out a huff. He glanced at her. “Sorry, I forget with all your shit talking that there’s a lady under that armor” he said, smirking as they stacked up on the next door. “Three more levels to go. Keep it tight, keep it clean, and we’ll all make it out of here alive.” he said.

“Sir, with all due respect, we’re past the point of keeping it clean. I say we just repaint the walls.” spoke one of the Witch Hunters. The Inquisitor looked back. He was a replacement- they had lost a man on Thenna a few weeks ago. The replacement’s name was Jenkins.

“I like that suggestion.” he said, nodding at jenkins. “New idea- keep it tight, paint the walls with their blood, we all make it home in one piece. We can’t risk putting more holes in this building without degrading its structural integrity, so we’ll do this their way. Lead with flashbangs, filter in, one at a time, clear the room. For the Reich.” He said.

His squad returned the call as Jenkins moved in front of the door. For a moment, everything was quiet. The calm before the storm. He kicked open the door, sidestepping behind the wall as Filib tossed in a flashbang. There was a flash of light and a pop, and then they filtered in.

“Four contacts!” he shouted, putting four rounds into one of the mages. Jenkins followed him in, firing on a mage in a doorway, who was trying to get away from the flash. Six shots, two hit, The mage fell to the ground, crawling behind the door as Martinez entered the room, dropping the remaining two mages before they could cast any spells. Filib walked around the doorway, wee the injured mage sat limp against the wall.

“P… please… I just want-”

He was cut off as the Inquisitor put a bullet in his head.

“Jesus, sir. He was unarmed and bleeding out. You put him down like a dog.” said another Witchhunter. Cooke. A newbie, to the Inquisition and the Witch Hunters. Filib looked at him, frowning. He was apparently a commando in the Guerre army before the Reich had taken over, retiring for a few months before rejoining the Reich.

“Acolyte, this is what we do in the Reich. A mage like him could lead the next terrorist attack. If you want to let them live, think about what magic has done to our homeworld. What its done to the galaxy as a whole. The demonic Crusade. The Asmodians. The three dragons. When we strike out at the mages, we do so to stop such evil from rearing its head.”

Cooke nodded grimly, moving the the next door. There was only two levels left, and so far they had no casualties. If they kept this up, they would be heading home by the end of the month guaranteed. They breached the next room in a similar fashion, killing three more mages as the last door shut, leading to the ground floor. The rest of the mages were down there, and he intended to kill them all.

He stacked up on the doorway. “Alright, this is it. They’re backed into a corner, so we may see some dark magic. Whatever happens in there, Martinez, keep our guys alive. We have each others’ backs, like a family.” he said as they stacked up. He took a couple of deep breaths, closing his eyes for a moment.

They snapped open as the kicked the door open, tossing his last flashbang into the room. As it went off, he moved inside, spells flying at the doorway as he opened fire. A few hit him, bouncing off his armor harmlessly. One tried to run and got a bullet in his leg by Martinez. Cooke moved to finish him off as the rest of the team, pinned behind furniture, began to push the mages back, forcing them into one final side room.

Filib tossed a grenade into the room, ducking back as it blew the room up, sending bits of meat and ruined furniture everywhere. Cooke ran up to meet them, smiling as everyone moved into the room, making sure there were no survivors. There were none. Martinez gave everyone a thumbs up. “I’ll go make sure Jenkins is alright out there. I lost sight of him after we cleared the room.” she said lifting her rifle.

As she turned into the doorway, a loug schlick was heard, followed by a wet gasp as Martinez fell backwards, an icicle impaling her through the chest. She drew her sidearm, firing three times before her arm fell limp by her side as she gasped in pain. “He’s down.” she groaned.

As Filib moved out of the door, he saw Jenkins impaled by four icicles, nailed to the wall. The sorcerer that Cooke had gone to finish off lay dead in the middle of the room, the only obvious attacker.

“Sir, I’m sorry- he seemed-”

The punishment for insubordination was death. In this case, Cooke’s unwillingness to finish off a threat had gotten Jenkins killed. In a single swift motion, he drew his standard issue Reich sider arm, pulled back the hammer, put it to Cooke’s forehead, and fired. The man dropped to the ground, dead. He rushed over to Martinez, lifting her up, carrying her injured body outside to the waiting Reich forces.