Chapter 1
The four figures stood gathered around the blood soaked body that lay sprawled in the alleyway. One bent down and closed the eyes of her former comrade. Already gathering on the periphery of meagre light that their lanterns cast in the gloom they could see and hear the scavengers of the underhive come to try and make a meal of the body. They stood in silence for a few minutes round the body, though if there had been a hidden watcher to this vigil it would have seemed to last longer.
As if some sign had been given, the quartet relaxed slightly, and if by some unspoken agreement their silence ended.
"He…He was a good man," said the first.
"Good at his job," said the second.
"He will be missed by all who knew him," said the third, trying to choke back the tears that threatened to overwhelm her at the death of her brother.
They all turned as the fourth, and so far silent member of the quartet spoke up, though they had to lean closer to catch all of what he said as it was said in a deathly whisper, little more than a suggestion of words in the still, fetid air.
"No! He was not a good man; he was as ordinary and flawed as all mortals in this universe. He was mildly skilled at his job, but I have seen better. And missed by all? HA! You really think that? After all you have seen and done you still believe that? After all of the silent miracles we have witnessed, and all the vile deeds? He alone among you knew how worthless the individual is, and if he could he would have shown you how wrong you are."
After this muted outburst, they settled back into silence and moved away from the body while the fourth member of the party remained staring at the body.
" What shall we do now?" asked the female member of the group, in a grief leaden voice.
For a few moments it appeared that the fourth member, the leader, hadn't heard her, then he spun on his heel to face the others,
"We shall be making inquiries into what happened here, we will bring someone to justice for this, we will honour our fallen. Now help bear him to the mortuary, we will not leave him here for these vermin."
Crimelord Qux had ruled this section of the underhive with an adamantine fist for the past two decades, and had every intention of ruling it for at least two more.
Anyone looking at him would have seen a grotesque beast, with his finely woven garments spread tightly across his immensely obese bulk. An impression he had used in the past to great affect as his bulk belied his immense strength, as many business rivals had found at their cost.
He sat behind his luxuriously inlaid off-world wooden desk in his richly appointed apartments in his headquarters, an old Arbites precinct courthouse, listening to the reports of his lieutenants, a thick cigar clenched tightly in his teeth.
"We dealt with that off-worlder who was snooping round the warehouses, he won't be sticking his nose in anywhere again"
"Good. Did you find out who he was working for?" Qux asked, quaffing from a glass of rare priceless spirits.
"Errr, we had trouble making him talk…"
"So you fools didn't find out anything?" The colour was beginning to rise in Qux's cheeks, and his lieutenants became worried. The last time they had seen this happen, it ended up with a rival ganger nailed to the wall of his hab blockwith his own teeth.
"W…Well he musta bin workin for the Arbites, none of the gangs are stupid enough to try anything against you," rumbled one who was braver, or possibly more stupid than the rest.
"You really think that! Fool! Don't make assumptions! The other gangs are always scheming to bring down my empire! Get out of my sight before I feed you to one of my pets…" At this the lieutenants quickly left the room, none felt like 'playing' with their lord's pets.
As Qux sat there immersed in the solitude of his inner sanctum, he kept turning over the puzzle of the stranger's identity in his mind. He was so deep in thought that he paid no attention to the muted sounds coming from the rest of the building, and he didn't even notice two thumps, as of two people falling to the floor, from outside his office. That was until the door of his office blew open, showering him with shards of wood and metal, and almost making him swallow the stub of his cigar.
He jumped to his feet, spluttering and coughing up the cigar. He peered into the smoke that swirled through the remains of the doorway, and he slowly moved his hand down towards the auto-pistol holstered inside his open desk drawer.
He heard movement through the smoke and saw ghostly shapes begin to solidify in the smoke and dust, and swung his pistol up to cover the door, enabling him to start blasting away the moment anyone was foolish enough to come through it.
A figure started to enter the room, and though still wreathed by smoke, Qux knew that he could definitely hit him with the first shot. He tried to pull the trigger but found that he couldn't move his finger; he tried again, still nothing. He thought of switching hands, or moving into cover until his finger could move, but was unable to do either, it was as if his body was being held in place by invisible strings. He knew enough to recognise a Psyker at work. He found he could only move his eyes. All the while the form was moving closer through the smoke, until he burst out into the room, and strode in front of the desk.
Qux quickly ran his eyes up and over the strangers form, from his black leather army boots, up past his flowing ankle length brown leather storm coat, to the slim sword at his side, and the skull topped staff slung over his shoulder. Then he looked the intruder in the face, and saw a shaven headed man, probably in his early forties, not much older; with 3 claw-like gashes running over his left eye socket and scalp. But when he looked into the bottomless pits of the mans hard grey eyes, he knew that although he might not be very old, he had experienced many things that few men should ever have seen. Qux managed to find his tongue and uttered am oath of protection against the apparition that stood before him.
"In the name of the Emperor! Whoever you are, you've just made a big mistake! Guards! Guards!"
When the stranger spoke it was with a deep voice almost bare of emotion.
"They wont answer your calls, not where they've gone. How dare you try and pray for protection from the glorious God Emperor? You who have led a life of crime and deceit? You who have killed a servant of the Emperor while performing his duty? You who have stood in my way? And you say that I am the one making the mistake? Your whole life has been a mistake!"
By the end of this the strangers voice had risen to a bellow, and sweat began to drip from Qux's face, as he still couldn't move more than his eyes or mouth, and he was afraid.
"Who…who are you? What are you doing?" quavered Qux in a broken voice.
"I am carrying out the sacred duty charged to me on holy Terra by the Emperor himself. I am doing his will. I am dispensing his justice. And you dare ask me who I am? I am known by many names on many worlds, I am known as the purger of the red-clan on Necromunda, as Ork-bane on Armageddon, as the slayer of Varn, chosen of the Dark Gods on Cadia, and by various other names on countless other worlds, as well as Lord High Inquisitor of the Ordo Malleus. But you…"
Qux tried to scream when he heard this last part, as it identified the stranger as one of the most feared and powerful people in the whole of the Empire of Man, a member of the Emperor's Holy Inquisition. They had more power than planetary governors, anything they did was legally justified, and they had the authority to destroy an entire world along with its whole population for any perceived infraction against the will of the Emperor and mankind. Qux was unable to scream, as now he couldn't even move his lips, though from a damp feeling spreading down his leg he did have some control over body functions, even if it was unwanted.
Then as fast as an exotic snake the stranger drew an antique pistol from out of the holster at his belt and fired a single shot into Qux's forehead, silencing him permanently. The flash from the shot was still fulgurating around the room as the body flew backwards through the smoky air trailing blood, brains and skull fragments, knocking the desk chair over.
"… you can call me Bob,"
He holstered his pistol and left the room. Stepping over the debris and door remains, heading out into the rest of the compound to gather up his party and find out why a Crimelord had, until very recently, been permitted to ensconce himself in an Arbites precinct courthouse.