The crowd made its way down the street towards Atonement’s perch like a giant millipede crawling through the dirt wall of a Warren-Church. Thousands of marching feet pounded across the cobblestone road that led to a wide square that fed to several more streets. The chaotic, discordant rhythm of their feet a counterpoint to their measured chanting.

“Say her name!”

“Mel Danton!”

“Say her name!”

“Mel Danton!”

From a dozen floors up the noise wasn’t deafening, merely loud. It filled the small living room that Atonement had chosen as their nest. They were sitting back from the window, the furniture of the evicted tenants pushed to the edges of the room so that Atonement and their spotter would have room to move.

Their spotter, Zean was praying on the dull white tile floor behind them; on her knees, with the sacred icons of the Trinity laid before her. She chanted the Litanies of Penitence and Redemption in a hushed, reverent voice. Atonement mouthed the words along with her, praying that the Holy Emperor would forgive their sinful human form and grant them death and rebirth.

Zean finished her prayers and carefully wrapped the sacred icons in a grey cloth. Atonement had the same set, carefully stored under their grey and red uniform’s chest On the Empire’s worlds those Humans not fighting in the Penitent armies would pray in the underground Den-Churches with proper Icons of the Holy Emperors.

Atonement could remember the smell of dirt, incense and close pressed bodies that was the unique blend of the Den-Churches. Small hovels, usually only big enough for forty or fifty worshippers crammed together like newborn rabbits in a warren.

Atonement liked to think that each of their sniper nests were their own Den-churches. Sall confined spaces lit by a single shaft of sunlight just like the churches. This was a place of worship for Atonement, a place for them to show the Holy ones their drive.

In Atonement’s church they prayed with Iron and careful shots.

“Are the Heretics still mewling?” Zean asked. She stood behind Atonement and looked down through the window. Atonement scowled under their half-face mask. She would give away their position if she kept her head out for too long.

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Atonement shot her a hard glance that silenced her. One of the advantages of being a marksman was that their masks didn’t cover their eyes like the other Penitent’s did. It left their sharp blue eyes to spot targets and glare at people they didn’t like.

“Just asking, sir.” She muttered and turned back. Beneath the bottom of her mask Atonement saw a twitch and flexing muscles in her neck. Whatever else it was she said, it was too quiet for them too hear.

Atonement ignored it. The quiet curses were nothing new. It had simply always been that way. Even back on the Warren-House where they had been raised, they had been treated differently; ignored, belittled. Taken from their human parents the other children had turned their anger on the one who didn’t fit in.

Atonement never felt comfortable among the others. Something about themselves felt wrong, felt different, in a way that they could never put into words. It was like their was always a glass wall between them and the others.

They saw each other with warped vision, heard the others only dully through the walls. Always with them, but never quite with them.

Eventually it just became easier to stay away,

“Sir, looks like those half-heretics are coming in.” Zean said.

Atonement turned their rifle and looked down the long scope to see a double line of red and gray moving down a connecting street to meet the head of the marching column. Through the magnification of the scope Atonement could make out the cheaply made masks and sky blue chevrons on the Penitent’s uniforms. They were converts to Humanity’s crusade for redemption, former soldiers of the Merchant Guard and most of Idlethen’s police force.

Atonement may have felt separate to their spotter but they could agree on their dislike of these converts. Atonement’s faith was unshakeable, the idea of betraying, abhorrent. These converts striving for the redemption all faithful humans sought was admirable but to betray their ideals first…

Atonement sneered and looked away from the line of convert troops. Marching behind them was an honour guard of real Penitents and one bald human woman in black robes. The Penitent’s had had armour of overlapping scales atop of their uniforms. It was the same matte black as the robes the woman wore, with the same intricate patterns of orange lines across the chest.

The sight of the woman’s darkly tanned face and complete lack of hair filled Atonement with religious awe. She was one of those granted gifts by the God-Emperor himself, a CinderMaiden. A human forgiven for their wretched form and granted the ability to burn away Sin

They watched as she advanced with her honour guard and the converts toward the marching rioters. The converts all had large red shields and long truncheons, the shields overlapping like the troops of the long dead cursed First Empire. It wasn’t a formation for fighting soldiers; they were here for the protestors, here for the ones they had betrayed.

They poured into the square below Atonement, stretching out to block the marching crowd from advancing any further. Atonement sighted in on the advancing crowd, focusing their aim on a young woman with skin tanned dark from factory flames and short cropped black hair beneath a vibrant blue bandana.