Alpharius looked over the mass of people in front of him. After a minute of silent observation, he began a Vox-transmission, namely, Principo in Bellnelli, Principo in Bellnelli, Principo in Bellnelli.

Ozpin stood there for a few, unsure as to what the fuck he was saying, but didn't have much time to think about it as Glynda turned her Telekinesis on him, blowing his head apart. The last thing he saw as he fell to his knees with his head in unbearable pain was everyone in his collective forces (Atleasians, students of Beacon, etc.) tearing each other apart, with the Atleasian soldiers desperately fending off their now-rogue robotic forces and the battleships in the sky turning their guns on one another. His own students, who were supposed to have bonds as strong as family, lashed out at their former comrades, with many of the apparent loyalists slaughtered before they even had the chance to draw their weapons.

He watched Ruby Rose, a innocent young fifteen year old girl, impale her sister on her scythe. He watched general Ironwood literally ripped to pieces by his own men. He watched Peter and Bartholomew, the closest of comrades, succumb to a horde of marauding students, many of whom seemed like completely normal people at first, but had revealed themselves to be soulless brainwashed killers. He watched as Jaune Arc, an young man who was supposedly one of the worst students in general at everything, kill his entire team with a skill he doubted he would be able to match, stabbing Pyyrha Nikos through the sternum with a reversed blade before bringing it back around and cutting Lie Ren's head off, then putting his sword through Nora Valkyrie's throat.

He watched Atleasian Paladins massacre their own soldiers.
He watched Fanus students try to defend themselves from hundreads of bloodthirsty teenagers and fail miserably, quite literally being torn to shreads.
He watched brothers slaughter fathers.
He watched mothers murder daughters.
He watched the destruction of the world as he knew it.

And all he could ask was Why?

The Dark Angels stood there with a dumbfounded expression. Finally, The Captain looked at his subordinates and told them
"Contact our father. Tell him i want to get the fuck away from here and to never send me anywhere near the Alpha Legion again.
"Y-y-yes sir..."

Several hours later

Alpharius looked at the mountain of corpses. It had been a stunning success, this campaign. A full world conquered, its military crippled, and no losses amongst his own forces. Well, unless you count his temporary operatives, but they had served their purpose marviously. Guilliman could go back to his maps and books after this; this was the best success in the history of the crusade as far he was concerned. As he looked, he noticed one more white-eyed operative bury his custom longsword into a final "huntress", as these people put it. The operative turned, saluted, and with a final sentence of I am Alpharius, blow his own head off. Smirking under his helm, Alpharius turned and trundled away to a captured shuttle that would lead back to the Alpha and to more glories to add to the ever-expanding list of his legions victories.

Don't fuck with the Alpha Legion. If you do, here's what'll happen.

One day everything will be normal. The next? The world will literally all be trying to kill you.
Your wife will poison your food.
Your kids will stab you in your sleep.
The mail/milkman will assault you on your door steep.
The Fire Brigade will try and run you over.
Paramedics will overdose your medication.
The Police will shoot you.
Your office colleagues will set the building on fire while your in it.

In short? You'll have to go into the sewer and eat lizards in order to survive.

DON'T FUCK WITH THE ALPHA LEGION.