A/N:

I was rushing to get this chapter published before some things happened this week, so I apologize if there are any rough patches. Thanks again to all you awesome reviewers, you guys are more than generous (I finally got a 10/10 from Bibotot!). Hope this scene(s) play out well. Without spoiling the below section: this is my first time really trying to write about the Warp and I'm a little nervous about whether or not the scene is understandable. Please let me know if I need to touch it up.

Under the Mountain

Twelve blasts. That was how many times the Eldar Druchii had attempted to create a breach. Luckily for them, this building and every other building in this city under the mountain had been designed to withstand the shockwaves accompanying a nuclear strike. As far as Louk could tell from his spot in the cell, they had not succeeded.

Not in making a breach, at least. The ceiling had buckled in several places, raining dislodged metal and plaster on the defenders. Two more Eldar had joined the wounded, though they were lightly hurt and warranted little more than bandages and pain killers. Their first guard had been placed as far from the cell as possible; Angry Eyes herself had exiled the warrior to the front room for no fault that he could tell other than her willingness to engage in discourse with the human prisoners. Ha!

Had the tables been reversed and this was a human party holding some Eldar hostage, the punishment would have been much more severe. As one Commissar Louk had spoken to in a bar on Diaspora Station had put it: 'Better dead than informed of xenos witchery.' His cheery, bound-and-gagged companion in the cell was proof of that. He cast the Inquisitor a sidelong look, holding back the urge to snicker at the man's embarrassing predicament. The Eldar had stripped him of all but his smallclothes, following another disagreeable bout between the two parties, and had tightened his ropes even further by adding a strand between his feet and his arms. The resulting bondage left him hunched over like a mutant, and made anything more than sitting a precarious test of balance.

No one was to blame for Jadus' humiliation but the Inquisitor himself, of course. He had retained his stony silence for some time once the blasts started, perhaps anticipating how he might break free and steal a weapon away from one of their guards if the opportunity arose. Five blasts later, after coming to the same realization as everyone else that the enemy would not be breaching the building anytime soon, he tabled that line of thought. That gave him the courage, or stupidity in Louk's opinion, to regain his former arrogance and scalding invectives that had been silenced by the xenos' threats.

The Eldar had endured it all calmly, more or less, for a while. Those nearer cast him scornful, dismissive glares before returning to their work. Others ignored the man completely, choosing to tune out the man's strangely elegant obscenities as they poured from his lungs in waves of abuse that would have made Helsing grin from ear to ear. Louk had to admit, he had thought he knew every insult out there, but Inquisitor Jadus taught him a whole book's worth of phrases. Soulless, spider-limbed, feces-spitting Jackanapes. He did not know which was more impressive, the insult or the Eldar's lack of response to it. They were cold as ice, with restraint that put Sergeant Jekel to shame.

What had broke that calm, shattered it to a thousand crushed pieces and turned it into a hellish tempest of fury, was when he turned his verbal abuse to their leader and the Eldar child. He had barely gotten ten words out of his mouth about the two when the whole room seemed to explode into motion. Eldar swarmed the bars, spitting harsh exotic words that ground painfully in Louk's ears. He felt their collective anger pound through his temples, ripping into his skull with a dull knife's force. Though there was no physical impact, he rocked back on the bench and fought to drag a breath into his body. None of these were psykers, he tried to tell himself. But together they developed enough psychic force to affect him. That was pretty damn impressive, and it again explained a lot about why they were such feared warriors. He would hate to face their kind in battle. Not without a whole army of Guardsmen blocking the way.

Storming through the sea of xenos faces came Angry Eyes, who unlocked the cell door and closed in on the Inquisitor with a shark's ferocity. There was no snapping command, no barking order to remain silent. Her backhand sent the much heavier man spinning into the wall. Blood splattered against the wall and the man slumped to his knees. Angry Eyes grabbed him by the ear and hurled him to the ground in the middle of the floor. The inhuman stillness of her expression froze Louk's blood. There was no animalistic savagery there, no primal raging of a soldier fighting for her comrades, not even the arrogant sneer of a superior being. There was just… cold. Her eyes reflected no light despite their crystal coloring; they were flat and emotionless as a corpse's.

Which wasn't to say she had no emotions in the whole ordeal. There was a cruel mechanical precision to her movements as she lifted the Inquisitor off the ground by his throat and punched him again. Her fist pounded him into the floor with enough force to crack one of the floor tiles. Then she stood and brought her heel down on his knee, shattering it so violently that Louk shivered. Even Inquisitor Jadus' hardness broke apart, and he emitted a sharp yelp of pain through a blood-filled mouth. Crimson splattered on Angry Eyes' legs and Louk's boots. The Eldar warrior straddled the Inquisitor, clenching her thin fingers around the man's throat. His eyes bulged and he coughed several times, spilling more blood down his cheeks, across his chin, dripping back down over his eyes.

Angry Eyes appeared ready to end him then. The fingers on her other hand pressed together to form a shovel, then closed to form a knuckled fist. Her intent was clear, her body poised to collapse the Inquisitor's throat and leave him to suffocate on the cell floor. Before she could consummate the act she jerked suddenly. A buzz filled Louk's mind, easing the pain in his shoulder and setting nerves tingling all across his body. He clutched at his arms, glancing towards the Eldar woman on the table for confirmation. It had to be her, he recognized psychic presence when he felt it. Helsing had delved into his mind and those around him enough for him to notice the signs.

Whatever words passed between Angry Eyes and the witch went unknown to Louk, but he could read the warrior's face to tell the gist of what occurred. The warrior Eldar glowered, shooting a look over towards the table, eyes brimming with frustration. Her fist wavered slightly, a branch in a gentle breeze, then it lowered to her side. She snarled something and spat in the Inquisitor's face. Then, rising to her feet, she gave him one dismissive kick in the side for good measure and turned to leave the cell. Her pale fists tightened so powerfully that they grew even whiter. When she slammed the door the bars shook.

"That… the best you've… got?" Jadus' words splashed across broken teeth and sticky blood. He made several retching noises as he cleared his throat of the offending liquid, then rolled to his knee and staggered upright. Various Eldar remained glaring at him, watching with proud sneers of disdain. More than one gloated at his beating, hissing words in their own tongue that drew quiet chuckles from the others. One by one, they turned away and went back to what they had been doing. The spectacle was over.

Or so Louk thought. He had his attention divided between Angry Eyes and the witch now, mind swirling with serious contemplation. The witch had once again spared their lives. What was going on in that woman's mind? He was not afraid to admit that he would have ordered Jadus executed in an instant. The man was far too dangerous to leave even behind bars.

But wasn't that what he had done? Angry Eyes, and most of the Eldar as far as he had seen, were all capable warriors. Exceedingly capable. Who was really more dangerous, Angry Eyes or the Inquisitor. Without weapons, the Eldar warrior won hands down. And he had chosen to leave them unharmed in the cells. Maybe that stayed the witch's decision. A life for a life, perhaps? Did they believe in that sort of thing?

"You are all going to burn!"

The Inquisitor's venom was distilled by coughing and bleeding. Yet he remained steadfast in his defiance of the xenos as he stood against the bars, daring Angry Eyes to come back. The warrior stood at the doorway to the hall, posture tighter than a bolter's spring, fighting the natural urge to turn back and rip the Inquisitor apart with her bare hands. Louk could make out the slightest rolling of her shoulders as she battled against her desires. He briefly considered telling Jadus to shut up, but every moment spent with the man told him such advice would go unheeded. Let the man dig his own grave, Louk told himself. All he had to do was stay out of the way.

"The righteous fires of the Imperial Guard will sweep you all into the abyss" continued the ranting. "His holy might will grind you into dust. When our allies come I will personally see to it that you will die slowly and painfully. Especially that thrice-cursed witch! I will put her to the-"

"Here we fecking go again" Louk muttered, scrambling to press further against the side of the cell as Angry Eyes crossed the room in the blink of an eye. She did not bother going through the door this time. Her hand flicked out in a blur of black armor. The Inquisitor's head slammed forward into the bars before recoiling back with a spurt of blood and gore. He managed to hold in his scream, though that might have been because he had no wind in his lungs. Angry Eyes gave him a rough shove that toppled him over onto his back. A bloody lump the size of an eyeball plopped down on his chest with a sickening squish. A horrified moan rose from the Scintillan, and she vomited across the bars to the empty cell. Louk had no trouble holding in his stomach. He had seen far worse than a plucked eye. And he had to admit the guilty satisfaction that curled his toes at the sight of the Inquisitor getting the stuffing knocked out of him. Jadus was not the kind of man who garnered any love, as far as he could tell. Even if he had feared for his health at the hands of the Eldar, he would not have attempted banding up with Jadus for protection.

"You really don't know when to quit" Louk said, making no move to help the gasping Inquisitor on the floor. He would have been content to let the man lie there until Helsing arrived, but Getta decided that something had to be done. Mindful of Angry Eyes' fierce vigil over the cell, she inched forwards and grabbed Jadus's shoulders. The Inquisitor cursed another stream of high collar obscenities, but he allowed her to guide him to a bench and sit down. Then she began tearing strips of fabric from her shirt to bandage up his wounds. "Shouldn't waste that on him."

"He's badly wounded" she snapped, gracing him with an unforgiving glare. "Help me."

"No." Louk ignored her scowl and leaned back against the pillar that provided the only gap in the bars between the cells. He closed his eyes for a moment, listening to the soft voices of the Eldar speaking in their clusters. The front doors had been silent for a while now, perhaps an hour. Was that a good thing or a bad thing? Had they given up, or were they getting a bigger weapon? "Those wounds aren't going to kill him. Besides, if he gets out of here he'll have access to shiny replacements."

"What if he doesn't make it?" Her accusing tone did nothing for him. It was hard to make a person feel guilty for someone they loathed.

"Then I have one less problem to worry about."

The sound of her boots crunching closer warned him to open his eyes. He did, just in time to receive a punch to the jaw. Getta stood over him, trembling terribly, and shook her head. "I cannot believe you! You would let a fellow human die like that?"

"The human part is debatable, but I'll allow it for now." He rubbed his chin, conscious of how the sound had drawn Angry Eyes back in their direction. Seeing that the Inquisitor was not about causing trouble, she relaxed and returned to the hallway. One of the Eldar warriors called her forward and she vanished into the hallway. That was not worth wondering about at the moment.

"Did you hear how many times he threatened to kill me" Louk asked the woman. When her scowl faltered he did not press his point. She knew it, all right. But this was not her being obstinate. This was the confusion of not knowing which was worse, obeying a bad Inquisitor or letting said Inquisitor suffer. Neither option would be good in the long run. Either could also lead to a whole lot of trouble if things lined up poorly.

"You could at least lend me your sleeves" she said, her voice dropped to a whisper. "You don't need those."

"This sleeve is staying right where it belongs" he countered, tapping gently round his wounded shoulder. "And as for the other one, I am kind of partial to this shirt. Make due with the Inquisitor's clothes."

"But he's… he in his smallclothes."

Louk laughed quietly. He could see how uncomfortable the idea was to the woman. "Don't worry, a man like that is compensating something awful. You won't be getting a heart attack if you drop his drawers."

Her past life had hardened her enough that she did not blush or blanch at the thought. But she did shake her head and returned to wiping away at the blood with her rags. Jadus' smallclothes remained on, which was probably a blessing to the whole room.

Inquisitor Jadus was looking more and more like the Eldar witch on the table. Beaten, bloodied, abused. Maybe the two sides of Eldar weren't that different after all.

Losing an eye took enough out of the Inquisitor's sails to leave him silent until the next blast. Without a good way to track the time, Louk had to guess that it was about another hour. He occupied his time by reciting drinking songs in his head, studying the nearby Eldar, and wondering how badly he had screwed up. So much had happened in the past… two days, maybe? He was beginning to forget how long he had been down here. The constant pressure, fighting, and craziness had him all out of whack. His back was stiff as a board at this point, pain sliding along his spine in shiver-inducing bouts of hot and cold. He could not hold off on taking that stimm shot much longer. Another couple hours and he would not be able to control the spasms.

His fingers dipped into the pouch. He hesitated when he noticed the witch was looking at him again. Her expression remained unreadable, but her eyes were more open than he had yet seen. Under the care of their medic, she was recovering much faster than she would have with their help. Despite their predicament, he was glad to see that. At least that part he had played right. By saving her life, and ridding her of that damned collar, he had secured their own survival for now.

A small part of him wished he knew what the witch was thinking. It was easy with Angry Eyes; she conveyed her thoughts in her body language. The posturing and bristling and general placement of her limbs told him exactly where her mind lay at any given point. This witch was a mystery. He could tell nothing about her. Was she old, or young? Did she hate them, was she grateful, or did she have some hidden plan behind her decisions? He knew that reading too deeply in xenos was considered heresy by all but the most radical of Imperial minds. Helsing toed that line with incredible dexterity, but Louk had never been one for that sort of thing. He either stayed in the line or bulldozed across it. What would Helsing say about his curiosity? Would he condemn it or encourage it?

"Something on your mind" he whispered, his voice so low he could hardly hear it himself. For a long moment the witch's expression sharpened. Her ears twitched ever so faintly, as did those of the other Eldar in the room. So they could hear that. That bit of knowledge could prove useful in the future.

He had wondered if she would hear those words, but he had not expected the sudden tendrils of presence that slipped over his skull and poured into his ears. The xenos's mind touched his gently, but with such overwhelming power that he lost all sensation to his extremities. Swirling colors filled his vision, a breeze washed through the corridors of his mind. He was pretty sure his physical form had just sprung a leak in the nose, but the warmth that seeped onto his upper lip felt like it belonged to another person. Helsing did not have a presence nearly this powerful. He slid into Louk's mind with surgical precision, delivered his message, and left. This witch came into his whole mind. She flooded every part of it, filled the gaps with her own energy, and dominated his thoughts so that he could only concentrate on her.

What do you want?

Her answer came haltingly. The colors oscillated in vibrant shades of grey and blue, spilling over and turning in circles that made her struggle to condense her thoughts to such a simple level known. The Eldar must have communicated on a much higher level than humans did. Even as the colors condensed, drew together to form more coherent whirlpools of dark grey, he could not make heads or tails of the witch's mind. It was far too vast, too alien for him to comprehend. All that Louk could understand was the single intent, the message behind what she was trying to convey.

She wanted to know why.

He knew what she meant, or at least, he thought he knew. Why protect her? Why defy the Inquisitor for her sake? That sort of thing made no sense, not to a human and certainly not to an Eldar who knew how badly mankind hated xenos. The last thing she would have expected would have been for sympathy from an Imperial lackey.

I'll let you know when I discover the answer, he thought back. That did not satisfy the witch, and the colors grew even darker, blossoming into an angry crimson that crashed back and forth through his mind. Her frustration was sharp, clear.

I can't tell you what I don't know.

His head throbbed. The pulsing anger grated his nerves, made the warmth run faster down his lip. He was vaguely aware of another voice in the distance. It sounded like Getta was calling out to him. Then the anger settled, washed out like the tide, replaced by a forced stillness that suffocated Getta's voice from his senses. His mind grew quiet, drawn to the radiant absence that the witch focused herself into.

What is your name, witch?

No response. The presence shifted about, walking the corridors of his mind. He followed her, watching in apprehension as she traced through his memories. They walked through the dingy and filthy streets of the underhive, slipping past shadowy figures with no faces and no names. A voiceless murmur buzzed around them, a pale mimicry of the past. Black shadows crept in their wake, scurrying this way and that to avoid their gaze.

She stopped before a decrepit simple door, hinges rusted black. It swayed and creaked by an invisible wind. Along the frame a little person had carved words into the mortar. Bewair of the Draguns. He had made that when he was young; he could not remember how young. The window above had one shutter, the other having fallen off in some past age. That was where he had sat and watched the people go by. That was where he had seen his first murder.

Are you looking for something? He crossed in front of the witch, blocking the door before she could enter his childhood. Those are none of your business.

The witch remained by the door, her darkness shimmering like silk in the moonlight. He feared she might try and force her way past, there was nothing he could do to stop her from that, but she turned away and walked out of the street and into a smoke-filled battlefield. The corpses of Orks and Guardsmen littered the ground at their feet, bodies shattered by gunfire, explosions, and the blades of their enemies. Dark clouds blotted the sun from the sky, bathing the battlefield in a hellish glow.

Far to their left, down the slope of the battered hills, he spotted familiar green-clad figures moving up through the carnage. The echoing crack of Praetorian autoguns rang true through the field. Louk remembered this battle. Helsing had arrived in the aftermath, and donated his crew to the cleanup of the battlefield. After all, the Guard would not advance until their rear had been cleared, and Orks were known for their resiliency.

He remembered all too well how it had taken an entire day to sort through the mess. The sheer amount of dead had left him nauseous. Krieg Guardsmen did not believe in giving ground. Waist-deep piles of dead Guardsmen littered foxholes and gun positions, the men having chosen to die in the same spot as their comrades rather than relocate to better defended positions. To be fair, they had inflicted horrendous casualties on the Greenskin hordes. They were stubborn, but they were damn good at what they did.

Enjoying the ashes?

The dark shape of the Eldar softened when he spoke, emitting a pale green light that soothed the anger that wanted to rise up in him. The Praetorians were much closer now, traveling kilometers at a time as the memory dilated time and reality to match their expectations. Some Praetorians were clearer to his memory than others. Those were the ones that still lived. If he recalled correctly, this was his first time meeting them. His second mission, their third, with Helsing.

Lieutenant Eulogy's face stood out the clearest. His initial glimpse of the woman had been less than impressive. Ork blooded splattered her uniform, her hair had been torn from its bun and hung across her face, caked in mud and grime that hid even her lovely features. Their first words had been dismissive and snobbish, a great preview of their future conversations.

Green flickered through the witch's form, tinted violet to show the change of her attention. Louk approached the Praetorians and stood alongside them. The Eldar witch's glow cast ethereal shadows behind the Guardsmen. She drifted closer, alongside Sergeant Jekel's broad and muscular form. The light shifted back to grey. He was pretty sure that was her color for curiosity. Even in the psychic realm, they lacked the ability to communicate with each other.

Eulogy and her Praetorians. They are with me.

Something resembling a shudder rippled through the Eldar's form. She retreated from the Praetorian, putting distance between them. Her green grew redder. The throbbing in his head grew stronger. The Eldar began to withdraw from the field, pulling back out of his mind.

They are allies. When the Guard comes, you will need my help. The Praetorians and I work for the same master. He is more agreeable than the rest. He could help you.

The red fizzled back to grey with blue shades drifting about in the current of darkness. The witch ceased retreating, though she did not draw closer. She seemed content to sit and listen.

Is that what you are here for, what you seek? Louk turned again and motioned for her to follow him into the quiet sitting room. Steel-grey walls decorated with high oak bookshelves surrounded the soft purple sofas that circled a low table. Helsing sat in one of the chairs, sipping at a cup of caf that steamed so nicely Louk's mouth watered. It had been far too long since he had enjoyed a cup of that.

You brought a friend, I see, Helsing said. He looked up at them both before facing the Eldar directly. His face crinkled in a frown for a brief moment before smoothing into a pleasant smile. Does this friend have a name?

Is this part of my memory, or are you in my mind again?

Wouldn't you like to know? Helsing finished his cup and set it on the table. He gestured for them both to sit. The Eldar's shape remained at the door, unwilling to draw closer. Helsing studied the Eldar with the intensity of a man who could actually see her true form through the cloud.

How goes the battle?

We have the cavern in sight. Once we breach this final line, the city will be in our grasp.

Good. Our situation is… delicate.

The Inquisitor's mouth curved at the edges. It was not a happy smile, and it was not amused. I can see that.

Just get here as soon as you can. Bottom of the Senate Tower, Look for the building that the rebels are trying to blast into.

Ah. You really know how to have a good time. The grin on Helsing's face faded. I must be going now. Got some heads to smash in. See you in a bit, Reaper. He picked the cup back up and sipped at the refilled caf. Hm, not quite as good as I remembered it.

A wave of Helsing's hand carried his dismissal. Louk nodded once before turning back to the witch. They stood in the cell room now, watching the Eldar warriors checking their weapons. Angry Eyes stood at the entrance to the hall, directing her kindred with urgent tones. They were all coated in dust, and the ceiling had more cracks in the plaster than before. A commotion in the cells drew his attention. His physical body had toppled down to the floor, blood leaking from his nose and ears. Getta knelt over him, cradling his head as she switched out bloody strips of his shirt sleeve. Tears streaked down her cheeks. She was shouting to the Eldar medic, who steadfastly ignored her as he tended to the Eldar witch. She seemed in a similar state to Louk, though less affected. A thin smear of blood across her lip showed where she had been bleeding, but it had ceased now.

Is this now?

The witch's shadow passed by him and centered beside Angry Eyes. Her color shifted, growing tenser and less warm, concern making itself known. She was afraid for the warrior. She was afraid for all of them. Her shape drifted down the hallway, and he followed in her wake. The Eldar had retreated from the front room, deeming it too dangerous to remain in while the blasting occurred. A single steel beam had fallen from the ceiling, breaking the desk down the middle. The precious box of Eldar gems now lay buried under wood and plaster, safely hidden from sight. He looked down for but a moment, not trusting the witch to ignore his thoughts.

Stopping at the door, the witch turned back to him and her light glowed brighter, gesturing for him to come closer. He did so carefully, uncertain of her intentions. When he drew close a tendril of darkness slipped out from the shadow and wrapped around his chest. She drew him closer and dragged him through the door. A tearing sound ripped through his mind, and he felt the echo of a choking growl from his chest.

On the other side of the door he found a platoon's worth of enemy soldiers standing ready to assault the building. The previous attempts to blow the doors in had carved gouges in the hard rock around the door. Two Druchii Eldar were directing a crew of heavily armored soldiers towards the door as they watched. The men carried a mining laser between them. Louk did not need to watch further to understand what they were doing. Explosives had failed, so now they were going to try and cut their way through. He wished he knew more about this sort of thing, to guess how long it would take for them to burn their way through. As it was, he had little to go on except that they were in trouble.

A haze drifted over his ears, preventing him from hearing more than the buzz of foreign words being passed among the Druchii. He could not make heads or tails of what they were saying, but there was urgency. His vision cut away at only a few dozen meters, but he could feel the faint vibration of far off explosions. The Guard was coming closer. It would not be long now.

He sensed the Eldar witch summoning his attention back. She remained by the door, pulsing insistently. She had brought him out here for a reason. A warning, perhaps? Did she want him to communicate this to the others? Why wasn't she doing that herself? Giving the mining laser another look, he drew closer and examined the piece. There was nothing special about it. He looked past the mining laser and approached the Druchii. One held a straight-edged chainsword, the other a bulky weapon that resembled some sort of launcher. The one with the sword had bright yellow hair, a very different color than the others he had seen. There was a human beside them, a small and pale man that shivered as if cold was scouring his flesh. Red light emanated from under the man's heavy cowl, spearing forward whichever way he looked. Another psyker. He did not appear to have noticed their presence. Louk did not feel like tempting his fate by seeing what the man could do if he caught them. He would be entirely helpless.

Time to get moving, Louk told the witch. He hurried back into the building, shuddering when his mind popped with a sensation akin to depressurization. The witch's form moved alongside him, glowing with worry and… conviction? She abruptly cut in front of him, stopping him from entering the cell room. Bluish-grey flooded her form, driving the powerful question to mind before he could even consider what she was referring to. Would he help them? Would he pass on the warning? He wasn't sure which warning she was referring to. But he wanted to stay alive just as much as she did.

She must have read his thoughts, because she backed away and returned to her own body. Louk watched her align over her broken physical form, a powerful shadow that held so much more potential than her frail body led on to believe. It was hard to imagine how much damage that little body could dish out.

Sighing quietly, he went back to lie down into his own body. Closing his eyes, he braced himself for a potentially painful reawakening. He could sense the witch waiting, hesitant to enter her own body before he was ready. A desynchronized exit could kill him instantly, as far as he knew. There was no reason to test that theory either, in his mind. Better to play it safe when testing the waters of areas beyond his comprehension.

His first thought was that he wanted to puke. The world came snapping back with a rush of vertigo that unbalanced his stomach. Getta held him down with both hands as he retched, bile mixing with blood in his mouth. That was probably the least tasty thing he had ever swallowed down, and a shudder passed through him as he fought to keep it all down. A canteen appeared above him and Getta poured it carefully.

"What in the Throne happened to you?" She managed to hold back some of her fear and showed the strength of a woman who had resigned herself to not give up. It seemed that purpose gave her strength. Keeping people alive was her goal here. And damn if she couldn't apply herself to that.

"Just took a walk" he answered. His words slurred out of his mouth like limp fishes in mud. Fumbling for his belt, he drew the last syringe and handed it to Getta. "In my arm, now."

She did not argue, though her face scrunched up in suspicion. Of course she recognized what it was. Her frown of disapproval did not stop her from rolling up his sleeve and sticking it in. The track marks inside his elbow gave her a moment of pause. Questions brimmed in her eyes, but she held back from speaking. Adrenaline rushed into his body and he gave a heaving breath. The sweet relief carried an undercurrent of numbing cold, wiping the pain and tightness from his back. Ah...

Thankfully, the woman said nothing about the matter. She carefully returned the syringe to its pouch and helped him sit up. There was enough to worry about that she did not waste time asking about his condition.

Speaking of which…

Louk pulled himself to his feet and dragged himself to the bars. "Hey, Angry Eyes."

The Eldar warrior appeared to his summons. She gave him a deadpan grimace, eyes sharp as flint. Lifting the lascarbine threateningly, she lined it up with his heart before giving a subtle nod to signal her approval for him to continue. Ready to listen, perhaps, but not keen on having her time wasted. A long, measured breath bought him several seconds to think through what he would say.

"Your leader just showed me the outside" he told the warrior. The Eldar balked at his words, no doubt considering them to be absurd. He still wondered why the woman had shown him that, as opposed to showing her kinfolk. There had to be a reason for it, he just didn't know what that was. "The Eldar… sorry, Druchii, are bringing up a mining laser. They are going to cut through the door. And they have a human psyker with them."

Angry Eyes shifted the lascarbine to aim at the ground. Her expression remained disdainful as she digested his words, but then she turned to the woman on the table. They stared at each other for a minute. Then the warrior cocked an eyebrow and she glanced back to Louk. To his surprise, she went and unlocked the door. Unsure of what she wanted, he remained in place. The warrior beckoned for him to step out.

"Louk" Getta called out as he strode towards the door. He glanced back over his shoulder; she eyed him with worry. "Be careful."

"Don't worry about me" he told her, offering a cheery wink. The Scintillan scowled softly at his insolence. He stepped out of the cell and waited for Angry Eyes to give him an order. The Eldar were all watching him now, also curious to see what was going to happen.

He nearly flinched when Angry Eyes flipped the lascarbine around and handed it to him, butt-first. Staring at it in silence, he listened to the murmurs of surprise that swept through the warriors around him. They all leaned in, eager to see how he would respond.

"Keep it" he told the warrior, shaking his head to show his refusal. "You are better fighters than I am."

Angry Eyes shoved the lascarbine against his chest. Her barking tone left no room for argument. Accepting it with a sigh, he checked the power pack and found it to be fully charged. When he looked up the Eldar warrior had stepped back and drawn his autopistol. Though she held it loosely at her side, her muscles were tensed in readiness to gun him down if he attempted something stupid. Not that he was going to do that. Even if he belonged to the Jadus school of thought, he knew the odds were overwhelmingly out of his favor.

"What about Getta?" He pointed back to his companion. Angry Eyes did not bother gracing the woman with a look. She shook her head and jabbed him in the chest with two fingers. Then she pointed down the hallway and uttered a single command. He understood, and started down the hallway. One Eldar joined him, their first guard. She cast him a sidelong look before giving an encouraging nod.

Stopping halfway down the hall, he turned back and found Angry Eyes watching them both. There was one more thing to tell the warrior, he realized. That was why the witch had shown it to him. "The Imperials have reached the city. They'll be here in a day, maybe two."

The warrior nodded once. Then she disappeared back in the cell room. When she did not reappear he hurried on to the front room. They arrived in time to hear the rising shriek of the mining laser powering up. Hopefully, they had lots of time.

Then the whine vanished and the front door began to glow. It was a subtle thing, a faint discoloration at the bottom right corner of the door. Louk rushed over and placed a careful hand against the thick steel door. It was hot already. Five inches of heavy steel, heated in moments. The race against time was on.

"Come on, Helsing" he muttered, casting about for something to reinforce the door. "Hurry up."