Chapter 3: Keita

Parcivale was looking at the entrance of the lair: a double door, laying at the bottom of a small, rockcrete flight of stairs starting at the pavement before the grey bricked habblock. From the outside, you could easily be mistaken that everything was as it should be. But there were small signs that made it clear that something was amiss. The door, which should at all times be closed, stood ajar. The window across the street, where there would be a spotter with a hunting rifle, was empty. And finally, at this hour - the artificial night was almost coming to an end - the lumen strip next to the entrance should be lit. It was all in line with Whisper's message that it had been hit. Parcivale checked his chrono. He'd been laying there for an hour and during that time, nothing had moved. The neighbourhood was quiet, even too quiet as at this hour some of the local residents should be getting ready to go up hive. But if there had been a fight in the street, they would certainly think twice about leaving their houses, even if it meant an irritated Mechanicus overseer or Administratum clerk could sack them for showing up late. Parcivale didn't have the luxury to stay in though. Besides, it was his home he needed to go to. Not for the first time, he cursed the fact that he had to taken up residence at the lair. The thought of leaving all the shit behind had crossed his mind numerous times. But without coin or equipment, he would soon be just another beggar. Or a new and expendable face in another gang. If he could even convince them that he would be loyal to them, which wouldn't be easy. Although he wasn't a ringleader, he had built a respectable reputation with the other gangs. If the Hammer fell, you needed to make yourself scarce. And the Hammer was only raised in the name of the Jesters. No. Parcivale needed the coin he had spared which he had stashed under a cracked piece of floorboard of his room.

Seeing no point in waiting any longer, Parcivale quickly crossed the street and dashed down the stairs, entering the basement and shutting the door behind him. He didn't have the key, but there also was a simple bolt which he softly slid across the door. He looked around and adjusted the settings of his photovisor. There was even less light here than on the dark streets. The apparatus increased the green brightness and suddenly Parcivale could lay eyes on the obvious signs of havoc and destruction. There were bulletholes everywhere and the ground was sticky. Whether it was because of spilled beer or blood, Parcivale didn't care to investigate, but the bodies on the ground gave him all the information he needed. Furniture had been thrown over and shot to pieces and the place stank even worse than normal. Parcivale tried not to focus too much on the casualties and instead went to his own room, one floor up. Right in the middle of the stairwell, lay the body of a woman. Even though her back was torn open, he could easily identify her as Elyna. He stepped over the body - there was nothing he could do - and cursed softly. She might have been able to talk some sense in Nowak. And who might have given the gang a bit of direction. He cursed again and made his way to his room.

The door had been kicked in and lay on the floor. Pulling it up and balancing it against the edge of his bed, Lars kneeled down on the floor and started prodding the cheap plywood floor. A moment later he found the tin can untouched, weighing about two and a half pounds, up to three quarters of it filled with silver thrones. All the coins depicted the Imperial Aquila on one side and the bearded face of the hive administrator of Kraskow on the other. He smiled. At least he could consider the possibility of leaving everything and everyone behind now. He stood back up and reached for a khaki backpack laying on the sole cabinet in his room. As he got hold of it, he also bumped against the door which, with a loud bang, fell back against the floor. Parcivale flinched and then did so again as he heard something breaking into a run.

Panicking, Parcivale stormed out of the room and started running away. He had thought the building deserted. And to be proven wrong at this point couldn't be good news. The noise behind him grew louder. It wasn't just someone running. Someone was effectively storming through the hallways, banging against the walls and... howling? Parcivale sprinted through the corridor to the stairwell, hoping that he would be able to shake his pursuer on the next level. All the doors he passed on this level were battered in. Only the last one on the left still hung in its hinges untouched, but Parcivale didn't try to hide behind it, instead taking the first three stairs with a single jump. Coming at the top of the stairs he slowed his pace, now favouring stealth over speed. It required all his self-control to pull it off - all his instincts were telling him to keep running - and it wasn't easy to control his ragged breathing. He could hear how someone - or was it something? - was sniffing the air below. 'What the frig is that?' Parcivale thought by himself as he gently moved towards the closest room, intently focused on the plywood floor, trying to avoid any loose bits that might squeek and give him away. The sniffing continued and a loud creak indicated that whatever it was, had taken a step on the stairs, although Parcivale couldn't tell whether the thing was descending or ascending. 'It'll be just my luck if it guesses right.' At that point he came at the first door. The greenish image of his photovisor flickered for a second as its machine spirit tried to adjust for the almost complete lack of light in the room. But then it showed the contents of the room. This door had been broken in half, the upper half still hanging crooked in the frame. Parcivale slowly crouched down and peered inside. He almost flinched. Although he had seen enough horror in the past - the scenes of carnage and mutation at the Widow's lair had scarred him forever - the scene before him was coming close. On the ground lay the leg of a woman, just the leg, but it had been gnawed on. The white skin was torn and large lumps of the muscle at the tigh were missing. Some of the bitemarks went so deep that the white of the bone was visible. Parcivale gagged, but another creak coming from his back, made him move forwards. He ducked under the incomplete door and hid in the shadows, drawing his pistol and covering the entrance of the room.

Outside, the sniffing continued and Parcivale could hear how his pursuer was coming closer, step by step. He reinforced the grip on his pistol and selected full auto fire, thanking himself for keeping his gun in prime condition so that the switch only made the tiniest of clicks as he flicked it. At least, he couldn't hear any changes in whatever stood outside the door. Still, it kept coming closer. Suddenly the feet of the thing came in view and Parcivale almost gasped for air. The thing - and it definitely was a thing - was barefooted, but thick redish fur covered his legs and part of its foot. It's toes ended in thick black nails that had grown into claws about an inch long. Parcivale held his breath. There was another sniff and then a soft grunt then silence. Parcivale now aimed at the suspected position of the things head, but the cold realization that his gun wouldn't be powerful enough to drop his enemy if it was one of the Widow's mutants, had already sunk in. His only hope was that the thing wouldn't find him.

His hope was shattered together with the silence as the mutant kicked at the upper half of the door. Parcivale leaned to the left, dodging the piece of flakboard, but it also made him lose his aim. The mutant was two steps in the room before he could bring the gun back in position. Desperate, he just started shooting, plugging the mutant with bullet after bullet. Any man being hit like that at such range would have been stopped in his tracks, even if the shots weren't especially well placed. The mutant cringed, but didn't miss a step and a moment later he slapped the pistol out of Parcivale's hands. Unarmed, Parcivale saw only one option. He jumped out of his crouched position and planted his shoulder in the beast's stomach. But the thing didn't budge. Instead Parcivale bounced of of it and fell back on the floor. The mutant raised his arm, ready to strike the now cowering man before it. Parcivale raised his arms to fend of the attack, but it was more an uncontrolled reflex than a real defensive stance. 'This is it.' he thought and just before the blow would come down, he thought of Ripper. How the ganger had died, spasming after being infected with the mutant's toxin. A terrible death. He just hoped the blow would kill him instantly. The beast grunted. Nothing happened.

Parcivale looked up and saw how the body of the mutant was falling to the floor, slowly, sliding of a blade, flickering bright white and hellish blue. He scrambled to his feet and then stood face to face with an armoured figure. He recognized her immediately and she confirmed his memory. "Interrogator Keita." she said with a smile. "Thanks for leading him here. This one was the last one here." Her expression changed. Despite the green and white picture of the photovisor, Parcivale could see that she got a look of grim determination on her face, although there was sorrow in her eyes. "Sorry, you won't be celebrating." She said, her voice reflecting her expression, as she stepped over the body and pointed her dagger at him. Parcivale's eyes grew big under his visor and he raised his hands. "What are you doing?" She took another step and got ready to stab him. "I'm afraid you've seen too much, citizen. I'm sorry." She now sounded compassionate, but from her tone it was clear that she was utterly convinced of what she needed to do. "No! No! I saved you! I saved you!" Parcivale cried out. The power dagger that had been ready to lash out, was drawn back, about an inch or two. A small wrinkle appeared on her forehead. "What do you mean?" Parcivale used the pauze to crawl backwards until his back hit the wall. "I was there when you fought the Widow. I shot it. Don't you remember?" Parcivale realized that he was sounding desperate and wasn't proud of it.

Helena Keita took another look at the pitiful ganger. Her eyes went over the scarred face with dark brown eyes and short black hair. He looked like any other ganger with his long flak coat and his, although well maintained, common autopistol. But when he stood up, letting the gun lay on the floor... his posture made her hesitate. "How many were there when we fought the Widow?" she asked. Parcivale answered immediately. "Four, and we lost one. Jay and I left you when that thing fell on you." Parcivale realized that this might not be the best thing to mention. With an apologetic shrug he tried to play that down. "We were just scared out of our minds... kochanka." Helena wasn't too impressed, but she did remember that this man had shot the daemon with one of the boltpistols loaded with sanctified shells, he had stolen from one of her men. Finally she conceded and slid the dagger back into a silver scabbard at her belt. "So, you're still alive." she noted, stating the rather obvious. Parcivale nodded, but didn't thank her for it. As far as he was concerned, they were now even. And maybe not even. It seemed like every time he ran into frigging mutants or the supernatural, the petite woman with the strange almond shaped, brown eyes turned up.

"So, why are there more of these mutants here? Weren't they all killed? And why are they after us?" Parcivale asked, eyeing his pistol laying on the floor. The woman chuckled a silver laugh before turning serious again. "Like you don't know." Parcivale wanted to play dumb, but couldn't keep his face in check. She nodded. "And it's not like they are the only ones trying to lay their hands on it. There has been quite a bit of traffic between the upper hive and this level. More specifically, between the spire palace of Baroness Agatka Porodsky and the Jester territory." It wasn't a stretch to identify Nathan as the leader of the Porodsky delegation. "And then of course," Helena continued, "there's me." She made a little curtsey to which Parcivale could only reply with a raised eyebrow. She bowed to pick up Parcivale's gun and handed it to him. "Still using this..." she hesitated and Parcivale could tell she didn't think much of his iron. "Piece?" she finished her sentence. Parcivale accepted the gun and checked it. "I thought about keeping that bolt pistol of yours, but it's hard finding ammo for such a thing around here." The interrogator gave him another smile, but Parcivale was already wondering where this was going to lead. Only a minute ago she wanted to kill him, even though she had thought him an ordinary citizen. He was amused by how she had adressed him, but not with her intention.

"So, what now?" he said, even as Keita had turned around and was moving out of the room. She didn't bother looking back. "Now, you're going to help me find what I'm looking for." Parcivale wanted to protest, but she cut right through that. "Or rather, get back what I already fought for." As they strolled through the deserted hallway, he wondered how things might have turned out if he had listened to Janina. If he hadn't brought the Widow's staff with him. If Lödz, Martin, Tanya, Ygor and all the other Jesters that had been killed today, would still be alive. How things would have turned out if Nowak wouldn't have laid his hands on the weapon. The interrogator was descending the stairs when she woke him out of his reveries. "Well? Where is your boss, ... Ehrm. What's your name?" "Hammer. And I'm not sure where he is." Helena Keita didn't skip a beat. "That ain't the answer I am looking for." And even though her tone was as pleasant and easygoing as before, Parcivale recognized the threat. "I know where he's going." he tried again. "Fine. Then that's where you'll take me." she said, leaving Parcivale wondering what he should do.

'What the frig are you gonna do?' the Jester thought. Parcivale couldn't imagine a way where things would end well for the gang. 'So, how loyal are you, Parcivale?' A week ago the question wouldn't go unanswered for even a second, but now, after having seen Nowak's behaviour in a crisis situation, his answer was no longer as straightforward as it used to be. There was also a difference between loyalty to Nowak personally and to the gang as a whole. Even though he wasn't personally close to anyone - he'd enjoyed the best relationship with Sharenya and even that one had been one between leader and subordinate, not to mention that Whisper thought she was responsible for part of this mess - the Jesters were the closest thing to family he had. And the only thing he really knew in this universe. Parcivale knew he had some skills that could give him a fresh start elsewhere, and with the cash he now had on him, that had become a real possibility, but still the thought of abandoning the Jesters stung.

As they came to the first floor, Parcivale's eye fell on the door that the raiders had left untouched. Helena was already descending to the ground floor, so he called out to her. He wasn't sure that he wanted to help her, but he sure didn't want to get shot in the back by her because she mistook his actions for an attempt to flee. "Gotta check this out. Might help with tracking the boss." The interrogator eyed him from between the lattice, not really suspicious, but rather giving him a hard look that she wouldn't stand for any trickery. Parcivale shrugged, posing that he didn't care, even though he had felt a shiver going past his spine. He resolved that he wouldn't try to cheat this petite women if it weren't absolutely necessary. Coming at the door, he tried the knob. It was locked. He put his shoulder against it, twice, before it surrendered and swung inside, leaving Parcivale stumbling in.

The room was untouched by violence, tidy even, which was in stark contrast with the rest of the lair. It was just as small as Parcivale's own room, but instead of smelling like sweat and dirty clothes, this one smelled of incense. There were ink stains on the small desk pressed between the bed and the wall and Parcivale realized he was standing in Njed's room. He opened the cupboards against the ceiling. They were empty. Apart from the pillow and blanket on the bed, everything had been cleared out. Parcivale shook his head in disbelief. 'That little snake. Selling us out to some frigging noble.' he thought. When they had discussed the possible betrayal of one of the ringleaders, both Whisper and he hadn't thought about the bookkeeper. But he knew just as much as any of the ringleaders. Perhaps more as he received info of every ring within the Jesters. "Throne." Parcivale cursed softly. 'And you suspected Sharenya.' The thought made him pauze. It wasn't just him that suspected the ringleader of the muscle. Nowak had the same idea. "Frig!" he cursed again, louder this time and without wasting another second, he ran after Keita.

"Glad I didn't need to come find you." she said, rather coldly. Parcivale ignored her and ran past her. "I'm taking you to the boss. Move it." The interrogator didn't question him, but silently started running as well. "You got a car parked outside?" She snickered. "You think I want to stand out in this neighbourhood?" Parcivale cursed again. No quick ride then. "Guess we'll have to keep running." he growled back, blaming the interrogator for the delay. Helena Keita didn't react. She wasn't sure what the ganger was thinking, but he seemed to be doing what she had asked of him. A bit too enthusiastically even and she wondered for a second if Hammer realized what her plans were. He had been reluctant at first to help her and she had attributed that to the fact that he knew that she was gonna kill his boss, but now he seemed to have forgotten what she was after to begin with. Whatever it was, it suited her needs, so instead of questioning the man any longer, she just ran after him in silence.