Editing 97th Conglomerate's Tyrannic War (section)

==== 1130 Hours – Local Time ====

The squad that was left had reported to the Sector 3 Command Bunker, but as a whole they were split up, redistributed, and reassigned amongst the company. The only members that were actually assigned to the Command Squad were Hanz, Samson, Grayson, and Natasha. Grayson was given a Plasma Gun, which he wasn’t thrilled about; most guardsmen see it as a death sentence. Hanz became the medic, and Samson inherited his underslung grenade launcher. 

“This rifle here,” Hanz said reverently as he held the weapon out to Samson. “This is Sasha. She will serve you well if you treat her right.”

“She is under my protection.” Samson replied as he carefully took the rifle in his hands. “Are there any litanies she prefers.”

“The Litany of Accuracy helps the shots land with effectiveness.” He replied, giving the weapon one last look over. “The Litany of Rending ensures the grenade’s effectiveness.” 

“I thank you, Hanz.” Samson gratified, finally fully accepting the rifle. 

Sasha was heavy; much heavier than his normal weapon. Around her barrel were wrapped cloth and purity seals, one of the wax seals placed perfectly where Samson’s thumb gripped the weapon when he shouldered it. Battle-worn, foe-felled, combat-tested; this weapon was a worthy one, with a venerable Machine Spirit. 

“How do I look?” Natasha stepped out of the armoury wielding her autopistol and… a standard.

“What’s with the flag?” Hanz inquired skeptically.

“I’m the standard bearer.” She answered as-a-matter-of-fact-ly. The flagpole was almost a full meter shorter than most others, but affixed to the top was a short blade. 

“Is that a… power halberd?” Samson looked at the standard with a raised eyebrow, seeing it was both ceremonial and practical in function. 

“Yeah, the techs got creative when making this bad boy.” She bragged, swinging the weapon/flag around, giving it an approving look as she did. The look in her eyes gave Samson comfort.