The press of the crowd was preventing Mesira from approaching the monster any closer, for it seemed that such was her goal. The terrifying creature was utterly fixated upon her, only prevented from reaching her by what strength remained in the collapsed frontage of the bar. For once, Nisato had cause to be thankful that this part of Junktown was comprised of the debris of his old regiment, for it was all that was preventing the creature from gaining access.
Had the bar been constructed from traditional building materials, the beast would even now be feasting on Mesira's bones and wrapping her entrails around its neck. Only the steel girders and beams looted from abandoned tanks had thus far prevented it from simply bludgeoning its way inside and devouring her and everyone else inside.
The structure of the bar groaned and heaved as load bearing members were smashed asunder. Metal ground on metal as lintels were compressed and weight was redistributed to portions of the structure never meant to carry such loads.
The gunmen that the late Cawlen Hurq had placed in the bar fired on the monster with their pistols, emptying magazines' worth of rounds to little or no effect. Where punctured by a bullet, the beast dribbled light and a syrupy ichor, but such wounds troubled it not at all.
The monster howled in frustration, a searing, hungry light roasting in the gouges of its eye sockets. Daron Nisato was paralysed by his fear of it, seeing a primal hunger and anger such as he could barely contemplate existing in any sane universe.
'What in the name of the warp is it?' cried Pascal Blaise, shouting to be heard over the din of the creature's assault on the building.
'I have no idea,' said Nisato. 'We have to reach Mesira and get out of here!'
'You think?' snapped Pascal Blaise, looking in every direction for a means of escape. The press of bodies was too tight and the settling of the structure had wedged many of the doors fast in their frames. Grunting men heaved their shoulders against them, but no amount of human force could overcome the incredible weight keeping the doors shut.
Nisato saw the girder trapping the beast's shoulder twist and buckle until the weld holding it fixed to the upturned chassis of a Chimera finally gave in to the pressure and snapped. The monster roared in triumph and hauled a portion of its vast bulk into the bar.
Its roar galvanised Nisato, and his limbs found strength.
'I've got to get Mesira!' he shouted.
Blaise nodded and said, 'I'm right behind you. Go!'
Nisato lowered his shoulder and began pushing his way through the trapped, terrified crowd, using skills honed in a dozen riots to force himself a path with fist, foot and gun butt.
His progress was slow, but steady, and he could distinguish Mesira easily enough from the grimy, unwashed faces of the factory workers. Her face was serene amongst a sea of panic, beatific and calming those nearest her.
Nisato finally reached Mesira, his powerful grip closing on her thin upper arm.
'Mesira!' he yelled. 'We have to get out of here!'
She turned to face him at his touch.
'No, Daron,' she cried in alarm, 'you have to get out of here.'
Then the frontage of the bar finally gave way with a tortured scream of metal.
Uriel heard the bar front collapse and thumbed the activation stud on the hilt of his sword. The blade leapt to life with crackling energies and he felt the power of the weapon travel up his arm. The Unfleshed had turned to face them and six of the enormous creatures stood between him and the bar.
Pasanius stood next to him, his bolter held at his side.
'So what's the plan?' asked Pasanius.
'I need you to lead the soldiers,' said Uriel. 'Protect the innocent.'
'What are you going to do?'
'I'm going inside,' said Uriel. 'I've got a feeling there are answers within.'
'There you go again,' groaned Pasanius as a beast with elongated jaws and a distended belly that glistened with writhing motion broke from the pack of beasts towards them. 'You and your damn feelings.'
A volley of las-fire peppered the creature and it screeched in pain. Hissing, steaming light erupted from its swollen limbs and gut.
'Go,' said Uriel, slapping a palm on Pasanius's shoulder guard. 'Lead them.'
Pasanius nodded and marched to join the red-jacketed soldiers, who advanced with their rifles blazing. Individually, lasguns were a poor man's weapon, but gathered en masse, they were formidable and only a fool would underestimate the effect of a massed volley of fire.
The Unfleshed roused themselves from the wanton slaughter of the bar's patrons at these attacks, their howls of anguish at odds with the purposeful light that surrounded them. The creatures writhed in the glow that spilled from their wounds, as though their own ambitions were at odds with the purpose to which they were being driven.
The Lord of the Unfleshed pushed his way inside the bar and Uriel ran towards him, leaving Pasanius to lead the Falcatas in battle. His friend could inspire warriors of the Astartes to undreamed of valour and these soldiers had the honour of being commanded by one of the Ultramarines' finest.
If they survived this night, they would be feted for the rest of their lives.
Uriel quickly made his way around the fighting, heading for the frenzied fury of the Lord of the Unfleshed. The creature had torn its way into the bar. Screams and the bark of pistols sounded from within.
Portions of the structure were beginning to buckle and groan, and it wouldn't take much for the whole thing to come crashing down. Whatever he could do here, he would have to do fast.
The Lord of the Unfleshed pushed his way fully into the bar and Uriel vaulted a fallen piece of masonry as he found an open section of wall where iron panelling had come away from the structure.
Even without his armour, his physique was almost too broad to fit and he felt the metal tear at his tunic. He ducked his head and the smell of the bar hit him. It stank of sweat, raw meat and strong liquor, but most of all it stank of fear.
The Lord of the Unfleshed towered at one end of the bar, his form monstrous and swollen. Whatever had happened to him in the mountains had seen him become more terrible than Uriel could ever have imagined, for mixed with the terrifying power that surged through him, Uriel saw the humanity of him, the skin, the anger and the fear.
All the things that made a person human were distilled and magnified within his breast, but whatever daemons drove the Lord of the Unfleshed to this killing rage were of an order of magnitude greater than any human could ever aspire to.
A woman in a pale robe stood before the Lord of the Unfleshed, her expression serene, in complete contrast to the horror on every other face in the bar. Uriel's memory quickly cast up her name: Mesira Bardhyl, Governor Barbaden's psychic truth-seeker.
In the space of a heartbeat, Uriel also saw the enforcer, Daron Nisato and a man who must surely be Pascal Blaise. Both men fought to reach Mesira, but he could see they would be too late.
'Over here!' he shouted, his voice easily cutting through the din of the bar's collapse. Glass smashed, timber cracked and metal groaned, but every head in the bar turned towards him.
The Lord of the Unfleshed looked up and its eyes burned with a mixture of anger and loathing. The light that bathed him spilled from its mouth like droplets of molten gold and Uriel felt a wave of pity for him. The core of the Lord of the Unfleshed remained his own, but was goaded to slaughter by some outside presence.
Uriel dropped into the bar, its terrified patrons backing away from him as much as they did the Lord of the Unfleshed. The creature seemed momentarily confused, as though it was fighting a battle within itself.