Donovan's oxygen supply had run out long ago.<br/><br/>Not that he often bothered to fill it, beyond keeping up appearances, but the alerts that flashed across his screen were omnipresent enough to remind him of the fact. His thin lips drew back across his unnaturally sharp teeth in an unnerving grin, sucking in another breath. As he did so, another marine corpse floating beside him dissolved. Fourteen empty suits already ringed him, fourteen days worth of air assimilated to the Prince of the Emerald Sun. A Prince of Blades, a Prince of Battles, a Prince of War. And War did indeed rage once more, with new -or, rather, newer- servants of the Abyssal Ones.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Collectors.</span><br/><br/>The insectile creatures swarmed the wreckage, scavengers and savages. Crude ruins of flesh, life-mocking constructs.<br/><br/>Easy prey.<br/><br/>Something primal had been encoded into his Exaltation, the Fury of the emerald sun, the Obsession of the wind-worn, the Judgment of the endless desert, the Compulsion of the crystal sphere, the Nemesis of the darkness. These instincts drove him to pursue all goals with an unholy, unwavering hunger. And these wretched constructs stood in his way.<br/><br/>They were coming, scuttling, trooping, moving through zero-gee as only puppet AIs could. Donovan sunk slowly through the vacuum, touching down on the scarred bulkhead. Gravity -or the lack thereof- was meaningless to one whose stride could take to flight, and often forgot about the concept of<span style="font-style: italic">'Down'</span>. The lean soldier rolled his neck, cracking his knuckles as he did so. Striking a tense, predatory stance, his fists burst into emerald flames. The nimbus wreath seemed to take on a detailed quality on his left hand, faint text scribing itself in a scrolling pattern forged from the tongues. Donovan's eyes closed for a moment, a look that could almost have been regret crossing his face. Regret for atrocities soon to be committed. Then his eyes snapped open; emerald flames erupted from their sockets as his form expanded.<br/><br/>A howl of primal carnage loosed through the void, and Donovan charged the oncoming Collectors. Fists wreathed in the fury of a desolate sun marred flesh and rent limbs, pulverized corpse and cast foes into the sun. He was faster than them, faster than they could see, than ANYONE could see. Not that many would be able to, their eyes seared by the burst of light that accompanied his initial acceleration. The white flash was dwarfed only by the golden eruption that emanated from further along the ruined hull, a beacon that even the berserking Prince could notice.<br/><br/>Collectors were coming from that way.<br/><br/>Prey was that way.<br/><br/>A familiar presence was that way. Not prey, but a kindred force.<br/>Somewhere, behind the fury, behind his own will, his masters whispered to him.<br/><span style="font-style: italic"> 'Something to be <span style="text-decoration: underline">reclaimed</span>.'</span><br/><br/>Donovan gave a snarling grin.<br/><br/>The Monster had<span style="font-style: italic">come</span>.<br/>The Monster was<span style="font-style: italic"><span style="font-weight: bold">here</span></span>.<br/>The Monster was ready for a<span style="font-style: italic"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="text-decoration: underline">hunt</span></span></span>.