This place might have had a name once, Senoth thoughtto himself. No doubt it had had a thoroughly unimaginative name, like Manufactory Complex Zeta-Zeta-One, or Refractory Epsilon-Nu-Tertius, or some other dull string of numbers and letters bluntly stapled together by its Mechanicus overseers. Now it could barely be called a place at all: whatever buildings remained were hollowed out skeletons, nothing but bare girders, and collapsed, rubble-strewn floors. Everything had been caked with ash and blackened with fire. It was no doubt a similar sight all across Vigilus: the Imperial reinforcements– spearheaded by the fanatics of the Inquisition and the Adepta Sororitas– were arguably doing far more damage to the planet than the Traitor Legions and various xenos invaders had, ruthlessly scouring away even the smallest trace of heresy with overwhelming destruction. Any Traitor warbands still trapped on the planet were now fighting for their very lives against a zelous crusade intent on their execution.