Back in the depths of the shadows.
A slow, wicked grin crept onto the face of [All According to Plan].
"You guys over at the hab-sector, keep holding," he whispered into the comms. "Those Loyalists are definitely going to show."
"Meanwhile, we're gonna kick off our own little op..."
He paused, his eyes locked onto the three hundred silver-grey figures standing behind Gabriel.
"We're going to drop a massive care package on the Iron Hands."
Over in the dimly lit hab-corridor, [Slaanesh I'm Boutta Wreck You] was the first to lose his shit.
His hands actually shook around his bolter.
"The hell do you mean?!"
"You wanna aggro the Iron Hands?!"
[I Just Love Sleeping In]'s eyes went just as wide: "Are you out of your mind? You think we can take on the Iron Hands?"
"Those are actual Astartes!"
"The real deal! Not the scuffed budget versions we're playing as!"
The comms channel instantly blew up.
[Let the Galaxy Burn]: "Holy shit, are you being serious?"
"That's Gabriel Santar!"
"The First Captain of the Iron Hands!"
"Sure, he might not be on the same broken tier as Sigismund or Akurduana, but the guy is an absolute beast."
"And he's got Fourth Captain Karon Santos right next to him!"
"That's two full companies of Iron Hands!"
[Death Guard Did Nothing Wrong]: "Bro, those guys are basically three hundred walking tanks. We're three hundred squishy propane tanks. Are we even enough to get stuck in their teeth?"
"Can we actually pull this off?"
Watching the chat freak out, [All According to Plan]'s smile widened.
In the shadows, that grin looked incredibly eerie.
Faint whispers began to brush against his ears. Before his very eyes, reality seemed to warp and distort ever so slightly.
Was it just his intuition? Or was some deeper, darker entity pulling the strings?
But he didn't care to think too hard about it. He just spoke casually into the zone chat:
"Since the timeline already shifted and the Iron Hands spawned on this dreadnought..."
"How could we not exploit the hell out of this new variable?"
He paused, peering through his scope at the three hundred silver-grey targets.
The Iron Hands legionaries had their backs completely turned, pouring all their focus into hammering the defensive lines at the core sector gate.
Blinding white melta beams detonated at the end of the hall.
Blue-white orbs of plasma smashed into the energy shields, one after another.
Not a single one of them paid any attention to the shadows behind them.
"We're going to fast-track the rift between Fulgrim and Ferrus."
[All According to Plan] continued: "Use your heads, guys. Ferrus is way too hardheaded; there's a zero percent chance he ever falls to Chaos."
"So there's absolutely no point in wasting time trying to convert him."
"It's way better if we just push Fulgrim over to Horus and the Luna Wolves ASAP. Siding with the Warmaster's faction sounds like way more fun anyway."
"Right now, all we need to do is hit the gas on the beef between Ferrus and Fulgrim."
His finger lightly traced the trigger guard of his bolter.
"And what's going to trigger a bigger fallout between them than two of Ferrus's top-ranking officers catching a stray bullet and dying on the exact same ship as Fulgrim?"
The comms channel went dead silent for a full two seconds.
[Konnichiwa Slaanesh-chan] was the first to catch on:
"Holy shit... you want to..."
"Frame the The Diasporex?"
"Wait, no, those human guard NPCs are way too busy holding the choke point right now. How would they even have the time to flank them?"
[All According to Plan] chuckled.
"We're rocking their cosmetics right now. It's totally believable that we're a bunch of Diasporex guards, right?"
He pointed at the Diasporex military uniform he'd looted from the earlier skirmishes. A tattered tactical jacket thrown over his makeshift power armor, complete with some random officer's badge he'd peeled off a corpse pinned to his chest.
"Three hundred Diasporex survivors pull off a desperate flank attack while the Iron Hands are going all-out."
"All in a last-ditch effort to save their crumbling defense line."
"Makes perfect sense lore-wise, doesn't it?"
[Number One Handsome of the Soul Hall] stayed quiet for a few seconds before slowly chiming in.
"Kehkehkeh... what the hell goes on inside that brain of yours?"
"How do you even come up with this toxic rat strat?"
"We're talking about three hundred Iron Hands. These guys could solo conquer some backwater planets."
"Are you absolutely sure we can even put a dent in their health bars?"
[All According to Plan] ignored the twisted compliment.
He just kept talking.
"Only one way to find out. We do it."
"Our bolters might be smaller caliber, but they're still bolters."
He raised the barrel of his gun, aiming dead center at that silver-grey figure three hundred meters away.
Gabriel Santar.
First Captain of the Iron Hands.
One of Ferrus's most trusted sons.
"As long as we cripple the Iron Hands here, and Blue Pigeon wipes the floor with the Loyalist players on their end..."
"Then we just run interference on Solomon Demeter..."
"This faction quest is basically a free win for us."
He paused, his voice turning stone cold.
"Get ready to execute."
"Hit and run. Do not engage the Emperor's Children under any circumstances."
"If you can't outrun them, whatever, just eat the death penalty."
"We've already farmed way more than enough loot, mats, and tech from this ship to cover the respawn costs."
Over three hundred pairs of eyes lit up in unison.
Hidden in the shadows, the Chaos players slowly tightened their grips on their bolters.
[Konnichiwa Slaanesh-chan] took a deep breath and dropped one last message in the chat:
"Then let's fucking do it!"
"Shit, getting to gank a few Iron Hands in this lifetime makes it totally worth it!"
[Let the Galaxy Burn]: "Rush 'em!"
[Death Guard Did Nothing Wrong]: "For Chaos!"
[Number One Handsome of the Soul Hall]: "Kehkehkehkeh! Let's fuck 'em up!"
Over three hundred bolters were simultaneously leveled at the silver-grey backs three hundred meters away.
--
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