Sergeant Tharannus Jade stood in the Bridge, his helmet held beneath his arm as he listened to Ultramarine Captain Aurelius Tiberon and Black Templar Lieutenant Sarathiel Crohnas conversate. He didn’t bother to add his own opinions, or crack a joke—he only silently listened, his expression stoic as he waited for the mission to start. They were just missing one member of the team, who’d seemed to be running late for some unknown reason. The hum of the ship's core reverberated softly through the metal floor beneath his boots, and the glow from the tactical holomap cast stark shadows across his scarred face. Time crawled. Every second of delay gnawed at his patience—not out of anxiety, but the ever-present readiness that came with decades of war. Tiberon’s voice was sharp and clipped, his words laced with strategic precision, while Crohnas—ever the zealot—spoke with the fervor of a preacher, invoking the Emperor’s will in every breath. Tharannus found no comfort in their words; not disdain, but detachment. Words were easy. Actions earned survival. Then came the hiss of the door’s hydraulics. Heavy footfalls echoed into the room as the final member arrived, stepping into the dim blue light of the Bridge. Tharannus turned slightly, his one cybernetic eye adjusting with a soft whirr. “You’re late,” he said simply, the first words he’d spoken in nearly an hour. The newcomer offered no apology—only a nod and a cold, calculating look that promised violence. Now, the mission could begin.