Reverand maynard posted:

This was payback time for the World Trade Center. We were coming after the orks who did it. If not the actual orks, then their blood brothers, the lunatics who still wished us dead and might try it again.

Good-byes tend to be curt among Space Marines. A quick back­slap, a friendly bear hug, no one uttering what we're all thinking:

Here we go again, guys, going to war, to another trouble spot, another half-a**ed enemy xeno to try their luck against us . . . they must be out of their minds.

It's a Space Marine thing, our unspoken invincibility, the silent code of the elite warriors of the Imperium of man. Big, fast, highly trained guys, armed to the teeth, expert in unarmed combat, so stealthy no one ever hears us coming. Space Marines are masters of strategy, professional marksmen with bolters, artists with chain guns, and, if necessary, pretty handy with knives. In general terms, we believe there are very few of the Imperium's problems we could not solve with high explosive or a well-aimed bullet.