"Truth be told I'm more of a specialist at stabbing crippled survivors after a column of Bane Wolves has rolled through and hosed down the countryside with all sorts of toxins. But assaults can't be that much different..." the guardsman chuckled under his mask, adjusting the stubber in his hands.
"Let's see... freeing prisoners is a secondary concern for now," he mused, looking at the intersection. "Interrogation rooms and cells can wait. This way, then, and on your toes," he said, pointing the stubber barrel down the corridor Laz hadn't had the chance to explore. "Stick to walls, mind your cover. You go charging down the middle of the hallway and you bloody well will deserve catching two in the face. Let's go," he said, at once following his own orders, heading down the indicated corridor at a brisk pace, keeping to the left-hand wall, motioning for Laz to take the right-hand side, and letting the hangers-on pick their own sides. The guardsman kept his eyes on the corridor ahead, watching for any leftover pockets of resistance.
