Chapter 287 Your cranberries are quite fresh
Twenty-four feet.
Twenty-three.
Twenty-two.
Now!
Markutian carried his heavy bolter and used the last bullet chain to pour out a dazzling barrage of fire at the rushing Imperial cousins. The opponent's charging momentum did not stop, but it inevitably slowed down for a moment. That.
Ciel clenched his two-handed chainsword with one hand, and with the other hand he had to hold down Ursus, who was constantly howling and swearing an oath dedicated to the bloody power and the father of genes.
Valier half-knelt by the bulkhead, still calmly pushing out the excess liquid from the last anesthetic syringe.
Thirion raised his gun amid the din of metal boots stampeding across the cabin, the roar of gun muzzles, the clang of shell casings on the bulkheads, and everything else, and aimed at their father. A shot was fired at the designated location.
His poorly made prosthetic limb suddenly stung untimely. Even the pleasure could not cover up the malicious bite of the metal on his flesh and blood, but he endured it. He hit it accurately, and the blue stick Colorful.
At first, there were only sporadic sparks falling from the top of the head, gently brushing over the shoulders of the brilliant scarlet and bronze armor below, and floating over the bone-white Terminator Ankh.
Nothing seems to be happening.
The next second, the bright branches formed by the high-energy lightning tree illuminated the entire dark corridor, striking at the warriors below. Their deepest human instincts drove them to raise their heads in surprise. , the ionized air exudes the smell of ozone, and the deepest black shadow falls on them with the brightest light.
Even the Space Marine's visual capture could only see a small shadow falling when the pale fingers rested on Ptolemion's neck guard, and it disappeared fleetingly.
"Pharmacist."
A sound that couldn't be ignored penetrated the light curtain and blew into everyone's ears.
Valier suddenly stood up from behind the bunker and threw an anesthetic syringe in his hand in the direction of the speaker.
Ptolemion's three companions were paralyzed by electric current and knocked unconscious on the spot. Each of their power armor backpacks was overloaded, and the servo motors of the artificial muscles emitted faint black smoke. Being locked in the unnaturally stiff joints of the armor.
Only the strong and powerful Company Champion and his proud armor have not been completely defeated. The ancient machine spirit of the Terminator roars, refusing to succumb to the artificial thunder and lightning, and continues to attack the Champion's electronic muscle beams. Reinjecting strength, calling for warriors to rise up and fight with it.
Ptolemion used his thunder hammer and large shield to support the heavy power armor. He just shook, and then the joint servo was reactivated, accompanied by the smell of burnt metal and flesh. With a roar, he angrily tried to reach out and pull off the hand that was unscrewing his helmet, "You unclean heretic..."
"Save it, Robert's family, you really like to say these things." (*Even if they are painted in red, they like to say some beautiful and useless scene words just like the blue ones.)
Origin Chapter Champion His tone completely changed after his armor-clad hand grasped a wrist with an unexpected feel and size.
"You...?"
"What are you? Let us finish quickly, I still have many places to catch up on."
As the seal decompresses, With a hiss, the helmet lock opened. Lamizane held a handful of anesthesia syringes in the tiger's mouth and dug them into poor Ptolemion's lateral carotid artery and the flesh next to the artery.
"Okay, that's okay, that's okay."
But the Imperial Space Marine with neat short light brown hair was not as obedient as the Tathagata person pointed out.
The Chapter Champions stared unyieldingly at their attackers, wrapped in Terminator armor. At some point, the machine soul that was so angry just now, urging and encouraging him, has become as quiet as a chicken, and his strength seems to have been stripped of its support and is rapidly draining away.
The light blue ionized smoke gradually dispersed, and Ptolemion saw a barefoot man standing next to him with only a tattered cloth cloak covering his body, but But he was as tall as the one wearing the Terminator armor. Those completely dark eyes were looking at him from inside the pale face. He felt a cold finger with sharp nails pressing on him. between the eyebrows.
His status as noble to a Space Marine is evident, or was noble.
This is...this...this is impossible...must...warn...go back...message...
"Oh, you only came with one ship this time and A company, um, not bad... Huh? I didn't expect you to be a cranberry without even a silver nail." (*Heh, no wonder I taste the blood being diluted, look at the speed at which they replenish new blood. He has served his Chapter for forty years and has humbly declined the honor of being named Lord of the Company three times due to his outstanding fighting ability. The warrior, the champion of the third company still refused to fall into coma. His eyeballs seemed to explode, his brain throbbed in his skull with pain, and his eyes went black.
But when he heard this rather frivolous comment while having a severe headache and vomiting, a primitive anger still surged out of Ptolemion's heart uncontrollably.
He opened his mouth, and the thunder hammer in his hand felt his fighting spirit again and roared in response, but the high concentration of anesthetic peak instantly exceeded the neutralization limit of his pebble kidneys, and the warrior of the Origin Chapter finally roared unwillingly. There was a sound.
"Traitor..."
The unconscious darkness swallowed Ptolemion Saralon in an instant, leaving only his angry look at the enemy of the throne still on his facial muscles. middle.
Lami Zane nodded, turned around and prepared to greet him - or the descendants of his current body to clean up the aftermath.
Speaking of which, why didn’t they make any movement just now?
"Why are you still standing there? Come here, tie them all up and lock them up first... Huh? Oh. Huh. Come over here after it's over." (*A burst of heavy ridicule)
Twenty-Two Feet Outside, the warband's pharmacist was checking the retina and fundus conditions of each brother who was stabbed in the eye. Fortunately, they all wore helmets, and the lightning just now was just ordinary high-energy lightning, and no one was really blind.
When other members of the First Talon blinked their stinging eyes and groped over, they skillfully peeled off their power armor, but somewhat unfamiliarly began to tie and drag away their still alive and skinned bodies. When the trophy slave was thrown into the temporary cell, Lamizane glanced at Valiel.
"I said I wanted the strongest anesthetic with the fastest effect. Valier." There was obvious dissatisfaction in his words, "But this big guy didn't fall down immediately after receiving six injections in his neck. "(*Your dissatisfaction, according to my opinion, is because you felt embarrassed that he didn't follow your gesture when he said it was falling down - but it didn't sound like he was lying down. Chagatai will say it. Do you know Chagatai? )
“I don’t know him, but you would notice this.” (*...!)
The former member of the Red Pirates silently saluted his new master, and selectively ignored the other person's sudden soliloquy.
"My lord," he said, "this is the best of the medicines we can collect. These are meant to operate on our wounded."
He I felt the tall figure in front of me pause slightly.
"Okay." Finally, the Midnight Ghost said softly, "First let us collect all the cranberries scattered on the ship."
Then he gave a few instructions and disappeared again In the shadows.
The First Claws hurriedly filled themselves with the equipment they had just captured and began to rush towards the next location.
————
The PSM painting diagram of the Origin Chapter. If you don’t say it is the ancestor blueberry group, you really can’t tell that it is a blueberry at all, it is completely a cranberry
(End of this chapter)