Haxtes survived the first murderous minutes of the assault, finding himself drawn into an impromptu bodyguard for Lady Ghaela, one of the senior Masters, as she fled towards the null-ship hidden within the spire. Coming face-to-face with the enemy for the first time Haxtes experienced a surge of confusion; before him the darting dark forms of the Astartes and between then...a tall woman clad in black, with the seal of the Inquisition gleaming upon her neck. Try as he might Haxtes found that his conditioning amounted to nothing – he could not bear to raise his hand against this shadowy Imperial angel of vengeance!

Knowing his life was forfeit he could feel his legs giving away and his weapons falling from limp fingers, even as mass-reactive bolt shells and adamantine chainblades tore apart his fellow assassins in a gory display of Astartes might. Lady Ghaela fared no better, for all her vaunted skill with the blade she amounted to nothing, her body seized by some unseen force and hurled repeatedly and with great cruelty into immovable durasteel panels. Inquisitorial troopers, their forms warped by the gloom into the semblance of glistening black beetles, moved in to secure the fallen Master and dispatch the mutilated living left behind by the Marine advance.

One beetle-form, placing the muzzle of its hell-gun upon Haxtes' brown, halted by a silent signal, told to leave the angel's prey alone. A perfectly sculpted pale face descending, lips a rick blood-red, thick dark hair kept in place by diamond firmament and black-gold pins. A smooth and cold voice speaking to the waiting dark; “This one is clearly not one of the xenophiles, but he is witch-touched. I claim him for the Ordo Hereticus. Tag him and bag him. ” The face gone, to be replaced by a high-heeled boot slamming into Haxtes head with considerable force.