The bolter's final shot echoed through the corridor, then faded to nothing.
Nolan stood over the small body, staring at the destruction he'd wrought. The boy's head was gone, replaced by a crater. Impact craters pockmarked the walls and floor around them.
He holstered the empty bolter on his back without a word.
Then his right arm began to tremble.
Not from emotion. From physical trauma. The bolter's recoil had been catastrophic, each shot transferring massive kinetic energy through his body despite the armor's shock absorption systems.
He twisted his neck, trying to work out the stiffness. Drew a breath that hitched with pain.
Tearing sensations ran from his shoulders down through his arms, spreading across his chest and back. Muscle tissue damaged at the cellular level. Micro-fractures in his bones. His enhanced physiology had kept him functional, but there were limits.
Nolan stepped over the cooling corpse and staggered toward the corridor's end. His gait was uneven, balance affected by the pain.
He passed through a twisted metal hatch—torn from its frame by the boy's metahuman strength—and entered the central laboratory.
The space was clinical. Cold. A transparent observation chamber dominated the room, its walls made of reinforced polymer or glass. Inside: a metal bed frame with a thin blanket. Damaged plush toys scattered across the floor. A child's prison dressed up as a room.
Nolan's breathing grew heavier. His vision swam slightly.
He scanned the laboratory, cataloging details through force of will. But when his eyes found the corner of the observation room, he stopped.
Stuffed animals. Dozens of them. Piled in a heap. But not toys. These were anatomically accurate, designed for medical education. Human torsos, organs exposed. Child-sized.
Practice dummies. For teaching a child how to tear apart human bodies.
The sight hit him harder than it should have.
His breathing became ragged. The pain he'd been suppressing surged through his nervous system like fire. His muscles began twitching uncontrollably, spasms running through his torso and limbs.
The armor felt like a cage. Too tight. Crushing.
His legs gave out. He dropped to one knee with a heavy crash of ceramite on tile.
"David..." His voice emerged strained, teeth clenched. "I need backup. Now."
"Hold on, my lord! I'm coming!" David's response was immediate, his mechanical voice somehow conveying urgency.
The words brought comfort. Not much. But enough.
Inside the Valkyrie - In Flight
The engines roared. Rain hammered the hull. The cabin vibrated with turbulence as David pushed the aircraft through the storm.
Nolan lay flat on the cold metal floor, stripped carefully out of his armor by David's efficient hands. The Solar Auxilia Void suit rested nearby, blood-stained and scorched.
His exposed skin told the story. Massive radiating bruises covered both arms, spreading across his chest and abdomen in purple and blue patterns. The kind of damage that would hospitalize a normal human for weeks.
Muscle tissue spasmed periodically, visible ripples under the skin. He couldn't make a fist. Could barely move his fingers.
Sweat soaked through his undershirt. He focused on breathing, keeping it steady despite the pain that spiked with each inhalation.
David returned from the laboratory, rain still dripping from his metal frame. His arms carried data drives, chemical samples in sealed containers, and several vials marked with serial numbers.
He knelt beside Nolan, blue light pulsing from his optical sensors.
"My lord, as instructed, I've recovered everything of value from the facility."
Nolan's eyes tracked to the vials in David's hand. He managed a pained smile.
"Worth it," he rasped. "Barely. But worth it."
A pause. Then: "That fucking bolter hits harder than I expected. The enemy didn't damage me. My own weapon did. That's embarrassing."
David tilted his head, a gesture he'd picked up from observing humans.
"My lord, that weapon was never designed for mortal use. Even Astartes Space Marines require full power armor to fire it safely. The fact that you're alive after shots is..." He paused. "A blessing. From Him."
Nolan's face flushed with embarrassment despite the pain. "Yeah. Noted. Won't make that mistake again." Another labored breath. "David, I need medical attention. Actual medical care. If that's not possible, I'll settle for a lot of painkillers."
"You'll have to endure a bit longer, my lord." David stood and moved toward the cockpit.
Ten seconds later, the Valkyrie's engines increased thrust. The craft lifted from the cornfield where it had landed, rain lashing the hull.
Through the storm clouds. Toward home.
Several Hours Later - Medical Room
Nolan lay in the medical bed, finally unconscious. Exhaustion and pain medication had dragged him under despite his resistance.
Multiple IV lines fed into his arm. Glucose solution for hydration. Saline. And enough painkillers to drop an elephant.
David stood nearby, sorting medical instruments with careful precision. His sensors monitored Nolan's vital signs continuously. Heart rate. Respiration. Blood pressure. All stable, if elevated.
Satisfied, David left the room and entered the main hall.
Jessica waited there, fresh from physical training. She wore tight athletic gear, her short black hair damp with sweat. The moment she saw David, she rushed forward.
"David, what happened? Is the boss okay? Did something go wrong with the mission?"
David raised one metal hand in a calming gesture.
"Good evening, Ms. Jessica. My lord's operation was successful. Unfortunately, there were complications during execution. However, I believe these complications served as valuable experience and personal growth."
Jessica's frown deepened. "How bad are his injuries? Do we need real medical personnel? I know someone who can help. She's a nurse, very discreet—"
David interrupted with a raised finger, blue light pulsing.
"Ms. Jessica, please understand that such decisions require my lord's personal authorization. However, we do need medical personnel stationed at the base. You may contact your friend and propose terms. But you absolutely cannot reveal anything about my lord's identity or activities. If you compromise operational security, my lord may not appreciate your good intentions."
Jessica's expression hardened. Her arms crossed over her chest. "Nolan is my boss and my friend. Of course I know how to handle this!"
She turned and stalked out of the base, spine rigid with offense.
David watched her go, tracking her departure until she disappeared from sight.
Then his head swiveled left and right in an approximation of confusion.
"According to Ms. Jessica's elevated heart rate and hormonal secretions, I appear to have offended her." His mechanical voice carried genuine puzzlement. "I merely reminded her to maintain loyalty and avoid unauthorized decisions. That seems reasonable. Why would she react negatively?"
He turned and walked toward the Valkyrie's parking bay. The aircraft needed maintenance. Nolan's equipment needed cleaning and repair. Work would clarify his confusion.
"I much prefer dealing with construction materials," he muttered to himself. "At least building supplies don't generate inexplicable emotional responses."
He paused at the Valkyrie's ramp.
"Though I must acknowledge that the Omnissiah—my lord—has been remarkably considerate. Polite, even. He treats me with far more respect than I, a humble servant, deserve. That is... pleasant."
David's monologue echoed through the hall as he worked, gradually fading until only the sound of tools and machinery remained.
Somewhere above, in the medical room, Nolan slept the deep sleep of the injured and exhausted.
And in secure storage, vials of Compound V waited to reveal their secrets.