"They can't hit you if they don't know where you are!" Rathiks hears the shout over the sizzling [i]snap![/i] of Arc energy flashing across the open cargo space that he had retreated to. How little his enemy knows. He reaches down to where a Dreg stands close by, and claims the smoking scorch cannon from him. The Devil hoists it up onto his shoulder and nods once to a nearby Vandal that's kneeling in cover, working on a panel. The Vandal touches a holographic key and the in-atmosphere fire suppressant system activates. There's a flood of choking chemical smog that fills the hold, spewed forth from nozzles in the overhead. With all of the Eliksni in rebreathers, it poses very little threat to the lungs of either side, but it does create a tense, fog-strewn room for roughly two minutes. Two very tense, but active minutes. There's the sound of orders in Devil battle cant. Hatches hiss open and shut, and feet pound on the deck. As the smog slowly settles to knee-depth, it leaves everything - [i]everything[/i] - covered in an ash-like film. "Fire," Rathiks orders almost casually, as he aims his cannon at a once invisible form scaling the bulkhead. The weapon vomits molten fire and death. The white-hot shot cooks the Vandal before it even strikes him, super heating the liquids in his flesh and organs until he's a husk. Then the round explodes, showering nearby Fallen with their eradicated companion. Devils rise from their cover to fire at the now exposed invaders that are scaling the bulkheads and seeking forward cover. It's a brutal exchange, but it's a price that Rathiks is willing to pay to exact his revenge.