Flostak- Upper Hive
After leaving Junta Office 5a8 Lord Verne decided to go on a walk. The given reason was that he thought it would be good for his health, but there was more to it than that. The path Lord Verne chose guided them on a gentle and roundabout fashion towards the rear of the office structure where a large warehouse rose above the surrounding buildings like a pale-red blister. It stood five stories tall, with no windows and a flat roof to receive aerial shipments. The main entrance had a military-grade checkpoint with armed guards, floodlights, and what looked like a decommissioned armored car. Thought there were no immediately visible pict recorders or security devices, Leon scouted out the likely places as they meandered by. Lord Verne drew suspicion away by engaging Sira in a longwinded cross-examination about the people, the places, and the culture of Flostak.
In retrospect it was a very efficient way of handling a briefing. That they were visitors was not supposed to be a secret. This way their small team could get a free and detailed tour of the area without arousing suspicion. Not only did they get critical information, they got to see the locations in person and make their own assessments. Sira had been thorough in her time here. While she did not go into detail on the specifics of the warehouse, or the neighboring buildings, casual phrases like "you'd love the view from such-and-such-a-place" or "building A has stable power thanks to its location next to the generator lines" alerted Leon to where he should be paying attention.
They must have struck the casual passers-by as a garish party, with the powdered nobleman and the slim merchant, followed by a tall and stately woman in a utility suit and an armed guard. Certainly they were not any more ridiculous than the average merchant crowd. Leon was starting to run out of awe at the way the rich here painted themselves and covered their bodies in decoration and grotesquely fancy dresses. It was like watching a parade of buffoons and jesters, except these men and women behaved as if such attire was a mark of prominence. If they could only see what fools they looked like.
"Monsieur Kane, if you would please."
Lord Verne was watching him expectantly. Worried that he might have missed something, Leon started forward, but his Inquisitor made a tapping motion along his ear. The voxpiece had buzzed. Adin's voice greeted him.
"We're finishing up getting settled in here. Jenkus wants to know if the pantry is fair game."
Sira's mouth curved in a sour frown, but she nodded. "He better know how to cook and clean" she grumbled. "That kitchen is prime-stocked and I hate for my working quarters to be dirty."
Leon did not bother asking the obvious question that sprang to mind. Working quarters. Had she butchered someone in that kitchen, or was she truly that jealous about her culinary skills?
"We'll save you some" Adin promised. "Heads up, by the way. Miss Recalior's got some grade-alpha communications gear here. Something's got the Ecclesiarchy bussed about."
"The Ecclesiarchy?" Leon lowered his voice and looked around. There were no cathedrals or chapels in sight, but he did notice a distinct lack of Justicar presence in the area. What constituted a 'normal' police force here? Was it common for whole streets to be absent of law enforcement? If Flostak had such lax security measures, it was no wonder that a Cartel like the Junta could roam free.
Sira stole his attention away as she gradually slipped back to walk beside him. She slipped her arm in his as if he had offered to escort her across the street, batting her eyelashes demurely and leaning in to disguise her words from any prying eyes. There were enough people on the streets here, further from Junta office 5a8 and nearer the open marketplaces, to warrant caution.
"Is something the matter?"
"There always is" Leon growled. "But I doubt this has anything to do with us. Adin said your sniffers picked up some alarming communiqués among Church leaders."
"Oh?" There was no teasing in the way her eyebrows arched and her slender face pinched together. "This must be something new. Everything was quiet a day ago. What did he hear?"
"He didn't say, only that something had them…" Leon grimaced at Adin's word choice, "bussed about."
The Assassin nodded and patted his forearm. "We will have time to look into it, but I have found no connections between our interests and the Church. It is most likely nothing to worry about."
Leon wanted to remind her that as a lifelong soldier on a world with no clear targets he had everything to worry about, but then Lord Verne plunged ahead into the street and they had to hurry to keep up. The bazaar ahead reeked of cheap perfumes, well-cooked meats, and sweaty bodies. Within moments they were surrounded by a low-rolling thunder of hundreds of voices. People jostled this way and that with little care for those around them. Leon removed himself from Sira's arm, only so that he could keep a firm hand on both the bullpup and the saber. Sira for her part melted into the crowd without slipping off. No matter how thick the bodies pressed, she remained at his side, an easy smile on her face and a half-vacant expression mirroring those of the people around her. Even Selene appeared at ease here, though she kept a tight hand on her kit and a wary eye at waist-level for pickpockets.
"Is this your first taste of markets" Sira asked him, leaning up to make sure he could hear. Leon grunted his answer. "Wait until the end of the Shadow. This place will be so packed you will wonder how people breathe."
"It gets worse than this?"
They broke apart to go around a hunched man carrying a great pack on his back. That pack might have contained everything the man owned, and the white cross of a pilgrim painted on his face confirmed Leon's guess. For a penitent pilgrim, the man seemed to be enjoying some fine bites of Flostak cuisine. His greasy brown shirt had wine stains all around the collar. Some fracking pilgrim.
Sira directed his attention back to the man after they passed him. A shadowy raven-haired figure prowled close after the pilgrim. A little flash of metal darted out from the hunter's hand and the gluttonous pilgrim tripped and fell onto his face. Quick as a buzzard the hunter was on him, helping him up and offering an apology and a warning about the dangers of the crowd. As the girl aided his recovery with one hand she calmly broke the ties of his drawstring purse with the other. In moment the hunter had her prize and had moved on. The pilgrim was none the wiser, though a bit dazed from smacking his head on the pavement. Leon did not feel sorry for him.
"It is a cruel world we live in" she said with a sigh. "That poor, poor penitent will never see his gold drachans again."
"How did you know what was in his purse?"
Sira directed for him to look down. Leon shut his mouth and stared at her hand, held close to her waist with an open palm. Four gold coins stamped with the Flostak royal seal glittered in the sunlight before she pocketed them.
"Did you just…"
"Better we use these than some street gutter vermin" Sira sighed. She offered a sickeningly sweet smile. "Don't pity him, he is earning his reward. I'll count this towards the drinks you owe me."
"I don't owe you the time of day" Leon quipped. She smiled and pressed up against him.
"Do you know how bored I have been, here on Flostak? It'd be real nice to have a quiet sit down chat with a homeworlder."
"You've probably been there more recently than I."
"That is possible" she admitted. The frankness of her tone left him a little off-balance. She sounded very much like a homesick young girl at the moment. "But I did not mean to talk of the current state of our homeworld. We have a unique view on life, I should think. Our… upbringing makes us different than all of these." She gestured blandly at the crowd around them. "They have no idea what War is. They have never seen anything worse than a hungry stomach and scuffed knees. It would do me well to hear the stories you bring, to enjoy the familiar accent of a Bregan man."
Leon shot her a sidelong look. "How did you know my… home?"
"It's clear in your speech" she answered, as if that settled the matter. "And Bregan was my home too, a long time ago. Do you think either of us will see it again?"
"I doubt it."
Lord Verne had stopped in front of a hole-in-the-wall sort of tavern. He appeared to be studying the rickety wooden sign that read Penitent's Noose as if debating whether or not it was safe to enter. Sira had previously pointed out the tavern as a safe enough place to rest and… what was the phrase? "People-watch." Some low-level and loose-tongued Junta employees frequented the place on a regular basis. Leon made sure that Selene was still with them before coming to Lord Verne's side.
"This might be just the place" Lord Verne tutted, tapping a gloved finger against his chin. He made a grand gesture for Leon. "I think we will stop here for now, Monsieur Kane. Please fetch us a table and let me know when it is ready."
Leon bowed and entered the tavern. He felt the first inklings of tension leave his veins as his eyes swept the spacious and smoky room. This was a place he had seen many times before. Bone-tired workers just off their paydays lounged around small tables covered in empty bottles and splattered playing cards. Few heads turned to inspect him as he entered, and those that did made little more than brief assessments of trouble-gauging before returning to whatever held their attention. Leon sidled in, hands clear of his weapons, and noted the two grim bouncers relax back against the walls on either side. They were tall and wiry men, brawlers to the core. One had a holdout on his hip, the other a thick truncheon. This place had decent security then. Enough to handle the midnight rabble-rousers.
This was also not the kind of place where a cheery hostess came up and offered to open a table. Leon set his sights on vacated table and moved straight for it. The former sitter had disappeared, leaving behind nothing but a pair of drained jagger shots. A tender hurried to clear the mess away as Leon dusted off the chairs and set them upright. A bit of blood clung to one of the backs. Knife fight over a game most likely. Perfect. He was already liking this place.
When he had assured himself that this place would pose them no threat, Leon voxed for Lord Verne to enter. The Inquisitor made a very good show of false-humility as he strode in, his cloak thrown over his body in a very obvious show of trying to blend in. More eyes followed his progress, but when he stopped at Leon's table the eyes scurried away. Not a spark of more than passing interest.
"Yes, I will enjoy this place" Lord Verne said, his reedy noble-voice hushed enough that only the nearest tables could hear. "To sit in and watch the peasants go about their lives. This will be quite stimulating."
"Yes, my lord, it will" Sira added. She casually leaned back in her chair and gave Leon a knowing look. "You can relax now, Monsieur Kane. We will be fine."
He snorted and set his bullpup down on the table. "This is the only place I've seen where I'd want to relax. Much better than that stuck up sitting room."
"He is sooo one track, isn't he?" Sira addressed Selene with a mischievous grin. "How do you all put up with him?"
"Because my trigger finger's the best you can afford" Leon retorted, allowing himself a little smile too. He wasn't sure if this was for the benefit of listeners, or her blowing some steam, or both. One thing he did know though, was how to play the arrogant mercenary. Throne knew he had fought enough to understand how they ticked. "Will you all be okay if I take a short walk that-a-way?"
He indicated a darker corner across the room. A squad of fatigue-clad Guardsmen were clustered around a game table manned by a sharp-eyed dealer. Lord Verne graced the table with a dismissive nod.
"Do not lose all of your money like last time, please. You grow awfully fussy when your pockets are empty."
Leon chuckled and stood up. He patted the bullpup once and looked directly at Selene. "Watch this for me, Doc?"
"Of course." The medicae frowned as she examined the game table. "Please tell me you aren't planning on gambling here."
"Course not" Leon promised. "Just gonna chat up some jarheads."
He left the table to the sound of his companions engaging in conversation. Moving with purpose across the room, he bypassed the busier tables and came up beside the Guardsmen. On closer inspection he recognized the patches on their black uniforms. Harkoni Warhawks. Some of the toughest bastards he had ever seen, excluding Cadians of course. Their unit must have been on shore leave in between deployments. The Harakoni, like Cadians, were a highly prized force and rarely saw time off the battlefield once a campaign got rolling. Always launched in the first wave, always thrown at the toughest defenses, only pulled off the field when they were dead or the enemy was.
That meant these men were enjoying their dearly earned leave. Leon excused himself into the crowd and examined the table. He had never seen it before, but it certainly had the soldiers' attentions. They were jostling and throwing money down on designated points at the table as the gamemaster spun a wheel with two balls in it. The wheel picked up speed, throwing the balls back and forth until they popped out and went rolling across the table. If the ball stopped against a pile, the pile won. If not, money went to the house. Very simple, and easy to setup. The fact that the soldiers appeared to be losing heartily did not appear to bother them.
"Fancy a roll" a fresh-faced trooper with corporal pins on his collar asked. He had a jagged scar stretching from the tip of his skull to his nose. The scar would have ruined the effect of his smile on a civilian. Leon skimmed over the wound, impressive as it was, and glanced at the table.
"I assume you're talking about the game table. I don't swing that way."
The man gave him an odd look and stared at the table. His mouth opened as if he wanted to speak, but nothing came out more than a confused humming. Another soldier with sergeant sidestepped in behind them and slapped their shoulders.
"Don't mind He-Man. He got that shiner busting it up with a Nob."
"He-Man?" Leon chuckled at the way the corporal's face lit up. "I take it that name accompanies the scar."
"Yep. Sure fits him better than Lunchbreak." The soldier extended a hand. "The name's Segert."
"Kane." Leon shook his hand and dropped a few coins on one of the squares. "What unit are you with?"
"82nd Harkoni Warhawks" the man answered proudly. "Just got over from some housecleaning around Soviea."
"Huh. They got a big green problem?"
"Not anymore they don't." Segert grinned proudly. "Kicked ork ass clear out of the system."
Leon whistled through his teeth, very much feeling impressed. Orks were terribly hard to root out once they set foot on a planet. Undoubtedly little pockets of Feral Orks had escaped notice, but defeating an ork incursion was no mean feat. "Sounds like you boys earned this break then."
"We sure as hell did." The sergeant nodded. "You prior?"
"Nah, wasn't my thing." Leon shrugged and shifted around so that he could get a better eye on the tavern. He kept a loose eye in the direction of Lord Verne's table, spotting for anyone paying them attention. But he did not let his attention waver. "Always considered it, but one thing led to another and suddenly I was out of muster age. Been a freebooting merchant guard, that's my gig."
"So you travel a lot." The sergeant did not show the usual disdain that most Guardsmen had for private security. "Seen the sector and all that slop."
"Yeah, more or less." He thought back to the many worlds they had visited. So many worlds, and every one different from the next as a sun from a moon. "How long are you all down here?"
"Until the end of these festivities, I think. The locals insisted we stick around and share the joy. That and…" He leaned in for a conspiratorial wink. "I think the governor wants our presence to keep down crime for a while. This is their holy month, and with all the Guardsmen milling about things are pretty quiet."
"Gotta love a politician" Leon said. The sergeant agreed wholeheartedly.
"With the kind of nightlife this planet has, I'm not complaining. Who're you working for?"
"A merchant" Leon replied blandly. He indicated Lord Verne across the way. The Inquisitor, Assassin, and medicae were very busy sipping at their drinks and speaking in low tones. The sergeant eyed them and nodded once. He turned back to the game table and placed a bet. Leon considered the bet and slapped a credit chit on top. The wheel rolled, the balls popped out, and both men received double their bet with grins on their faces.
"Now you're just trying to butter me up" Segert chuckled. "I thought you said you didn't swing that way."
"Don't. But I've got a hell of a lot of respect for you boys." Which was entirely true. Any sop crazy enough to grav-chute into battle was worth respecting. Drop troopers were their own breed; most were borderline psychopaths with a hearty love for the Emperor and a rugged professionalism. Those that I had fought alongside were always worth their salt in combat, and more often than not crazy enough to do the things even Cadians wouldn't touch.
He spotted a slim raven-haired figure enter the tavern to prowl. It did not take a genius to figure out which table the little pickpocket would head towards. Sighing quietly, Leon counted out his winnings and slapped them into the sergeant's surprised hand. "Here, buy your men a round on me. I'd toast your health, but I think my boss wants me back. He pays well but he's clingy."
"You're a true patriot" Segert said with a little laugh. "I'll take you up on that offer. See you around, Kane?"
"Could be." Leon gave a half-smile. He excused himself and began the casual stroll back towards Lord Verne's table. His path put him parallel and slightly behind the thief from the market, remaining just out of her vision. She seemed a little too intent on her target for a professional pickpocket, though she hid her direction rather well. Weaving in and out of the tables and slipping behind other walkers to blend in, she did a decent job appearing unnoticed. Leon made sure that the things in his pockets were secure before closing in.
The girl was quick-witted, Leon had to give her that. She scooped an abandoned serving platter up and piled on a few empty glasses as she went, smoothing out her hair and adjusting her dress just so to make her look like the other hostesses. The contact was a bit cliché: she 'tripped' and sent cups, mostly empty, spilling across the table. Sira had leapt out of her seat before the first splash of liquid could touch her fine summer gown, snatching her purse out of reach as well in a well-played act of surprise. Of course she had seen it coming; one of her hands disappeared inside her purse to grab a holdout pistol. Lord Verne might or might not have noticed her, she did come up behind him after all, but either way he kicked his chair back slowly enough to get a light helping of sudsy alcohol spilling across his lap. His outraged cry sounded too perfect to be anything but rehearsed. Selene responded sensibly and without a cry. Her first instinct was to grab the bullpup and draw it to her lap, holding it with one firm hand as the other went to scoop her drink clear of the mess.
Nimble hands snatched up the rolling cups, swiped at the expanding puddles of liquid with a rag, and darted for pockets. He had to admire her spirit, she was up against three of the tightest pockets Leon had ever met, but she came away with something that sparkled as it disappeared into her pocket. Leon caught Sira's eye, who managed to acknowledge him without lingering, and held back. The not-so-sneaky thief finished babbling her apologies and hurried off with the tray. Slipping perfectly into step, Leon waited for her to set the platter on the bar and make a beeline straight for the service entrance. She had her hand on the door when he grabbed her by her arm and shoved her through and into the alley.
"Hey!" The girl staggered forward and caught herself against the far wall. The alley they had entered was thin, muddy, and poorly lit. The height of the surrounding structures lent the passage a shadowy and dark aura, the kind where one expected armed thugs to rise from behind crates. But the pickpocket did not appear afraid. She rounded on him with an indignant expression and opened her mouth to spit out a curse, but Leon silenced her by grabbing her throat and slamming her against the wall of the other building. Her breath left her in a strangled wheeze and her eyes popped wide in their sockets.
"You're probably the shittiest thief I've ever seen" he growled, voice as low and menacing as he could manage. Not bothering to ask her permission or warn her, he stuck his hand in her pocket and produced the meager coins she had rifled from Selene. "You picked the wrong pocket, grouser."
"Go frack yourself" the girl sputtered. She gasped breathlessly for air and clawed at his face with reed-thin fingers. Her nails drew blood and he tossed her to the side. She landed in a puddle that sent mud splashing all over her face. By the time she had sucked in air he had drawn his sidearm and had it leveled at her head. The defiance did not leave her face. When it became clear that staring down a gun barrel wouldn't intimidate her, he holstered it and offered her a hand up. She ignored it and pulled herself to her own feet, wiping mud covered hands against her dirty skirt.
She was a short and slim girl, bony from malnutrition but fierce in determination. Her scrawny face with its knife-like nose and khol-lined eyes was not pretty, but it wasn't ugly either. She might have been attractive save for the grime coating her body and the unhealthy reek of sewer filth that clung to her. Probably had never taken a bath before.
"What's your name?"
"Who's asking" she snarled, wiping ineffectively at her dirty clothes.
"The man that could go throw you back in there and announce that you're a thief" Leon replied calmly. "You saw those Guardsmen in there. You know what they are? Drop troopers, crazy motherfuckers. They'd beat you to death just for the giggles."
"Is that supposed to scare me?" She glared up at him, unbothered that he stood a full head and a half taller than her. "I've been in worse scrapes than dealing with a gunslinging slimeball like you."
Leon ignored the insult and took a step forward. She held her ground for a moment, but retreated when she realized she was within arm's reach. Her arms crossed defensively. Running was not on her mind.
"Name" Leon repeated. The girl scowled and turned her head to the side. Thin fingers drummed along her arm in time to her thoughts, whatever they were.
"Quenby" she said after a long pause. The fire grew back in her eyes. "And that's all you're getting."
"That's all he needs" Sira's voice called out from behind. Leon did not turn to look; he could tell where the Assassin stood by the movement in young Quenby's eyes. The would-be-thief turned her attention to Sira and something resembling jealousy stole across the girl's face. "She was looking for these."
A gold drachan flashed through the air and landed in the mud at the girl's feet. Quenby glanced down at it for a heartbeat, body growing tense. Hesitation flickered there, the desire to snatch up the piece battling her survival instincts. No one spoke as the thief waged her internal war. At last, greed won out. She dropped to a knee and cautiously reached for the drachan, eyes remaining up to watch Leon in case he advanced.
"No, not like that." Sira extended her hand and the holdout pistol squealed. It had a very soft report, almost like a canine whimper, but the effect was very clear. The ground at Quenby's feet exploded and the girl stumbled backward with a yelp. She clutched her hands close and nursed them as if struck, eyes wide and suddenly very, very scared. Sira strode past Leon and stopped before the drachan. She made a show of ejecting the shell casing and slipping a new round in. The holdout was about the size of her palm, loaded one shell at a time. The caliber appeared quite large however, and Leon knew it had to be deadly for her to carry it.
"Pick it up" Sira ordered, her voice utterly calm and devoid of any emotion. The thief stood back, trembling slightly, sucking at the blood scratches on her hand. A sigh slipped from the Assassin's mouth and she leveled her pistol on the girl. "I said, pick it up."
The threat in her voice brooked no argument. Approaching with a wary frown, Quenby knelt down and began to reach for the coin. Her arm trembled as she moved. Sira waited for her to bend forward before rearing back and kicking the girl hard across the side of the head. The thief went sprawling against the wall, shrieking and moaning as her body crunched against a pile of garbage. Leon winced despite himself. He was a soldier, and he had a code of conduct. Abusing the girl wasn't in that code. She was a thief: lock her up or deal with her in person. But this was senseless and cruel. It was bloody inefficient too. It was not his place to speak though. Sira was his superior, and they had their roles to play.
Hers was that of a sadist, apparently, because she stormed across the alley and grabbed the sobbing girl by the hair. Mud and grime splashed against the edge of her expensive dress, ruining it and only making her angrier, by appearances. She probably did not care either way. Yanking her back across the way, Sira shoved her face in the mud beside the coin and growled down at her: "Pick it up with your teeth, you worthless gutter rat."
Quenby whimpered and fought to push herself away, but Sira had a grip on her that refused to budge. Grinding her face against the filth, the Assassin repeated her order and jammed the barrel of her holdout against the girl's head. Quenby tried for a solid five minutes to break free, but at last she gave out and inched her head forward towards the coin. Dirty tears streaked her cheeks. She had more than repented now, and Leon seriously considered stepping in. One cross look from the Assassin stopped him cold. Not until I am done, the gaze told him.
"Open wide" Sira growled. "I want you to get a good mouthful of that shit, and swallow it all. This is what you are, you stupid little rat. Worthless vermin that don't deserve to walk the same streets as our kind."
She sobbed and begged, but Sira did not relent. Leon turned away so that he did not have to watch. His skin crawled at Sira's behavior. He didn't mind doing this to xenos, but to another human? It was way too excessive. He slid a hand into the grip of his saber and drummed his fingers. Belatedly he realized he was drumming the same pattern that the girl had been making. Sira's voice barked out again, and the girl's sobbing became suddenly muffled as her mouth was filled with…
Frack. He refused to turn around. This was why he hated working for Verne. This pointless cruelty had no place in a soldier's life.
Sira was lecturing the girl now, speaking in very soft and condescending tones that carried just well enough for him to not make out what she was saying. He assumed it had something to do with improving her skill to not get caught. Whatever she was saying, it was interrupted within seconds by a loud retching noise. Leon turned to find Quenby down on all fours, puking her meager guts out onto the alley floor. Slime and filth dripped from her blackened teeth like oil. Her face was puffy and swollen from crying. The drachan was nowhere to be found.
"Can't even keep your dinner down" Sira said with a disapproving shave of her head. "And you interrupt me. Maybe I should teach you some manners. Monsieur Kane!"
He obediently came to her side. Sira spared him a brief glance before gesturing down to the girl, now laying on her side and breathing heavily with half-glazed eyes.
"You may begin beating her. I will tell you when to stop."
Quenby's eyes, dull as they were, widened and she raised a weak hand to protect herself. Leon glanced from the girl to the Assassin.
"I think she's had enough, ma'am."
"We don't pay you to think" Sira spat, venomous. "Don't spoil the rod, Monsieur Kane. These rats grow spoiled if you do."
"Please…" the thief wilted under Sira's intense gaze. "Please… I'm sorry. I'm only trying to ea-"
"Eat?" Sira laughed scornfully. "Was the dinner I gave you not enough? Do you want another helping?"
"Ma'am, that's enough."
"It will be enough when I say so" Sira retorted. "If you aren't man enough to do this, then I will."
Leon went to take Sira by the arm, but she stepped forward and delivered a kick to the girl's face that sent blood spraying across the alley. She kicked again and again, directing blows against Quenby's stomach and limbs. They were not particularly hard kicks, a true kick by an Assassin could snap the girl in half, but they were causing damage. Quenby squealed and shrieked until she could hardly breathe. Leon stood there, torn, growing more frustrated with each kick the Assassin made.
"That's enough!"
He didn't quite remembering stepping forward, but he found himself standing between the two with one arm on his saber and one held out to keep Sira at bay. The Assassin glared at him with a look that could have outright slain a man, but Leon returned it coldly.
"Ma'am, you've had your fun." Leon had to fight to not let their identities slip. He was furious, angry with Sira's lack of composure and this streak of hers that did not sit well with him one bit. She should have been better than this, more professional. "Now we need to leave."
Sira's glare faded and she stared hard at Leon. Confusion began to make itself known on her face. "You don't… do you realize what she is?"
"She's an idiot girl that tried to pick the wrong pocket" Leon answered automatically. "None of this was necessary."
"She's not just an idiot girl" Sira said. Her voice grew serious. "That girl is a witch."
"I wouldn't go that far…" Leon stopped. She meant that literally, not… oh frack. An unsanctioned psyker? He turned to stare at the girl. She looked quite pathetic, all curled up in a ball mewling like a kicked dog. Her breathing came ina terrible sobs. Hardly a threat to anyone. He concentrated on her then, trying to get a feel for her. Naturally he was entirely unaffected by the warp, but he had that sixth sense as an Untouchable that meant he could feel a psyker in absence. Son of a bitch, she was one.
"This little rat is an unsanctioned psyker" Sira continued. The pretense of a sadistic noblewoman had vanished. Genuine hatred and disgust read clearly on her face. "She is a danger to this city, and needs to be put out of her misery." The holdout pistol rose in her hand.
"Hold that thought." Lord Verne and Selene had entered the alley as well at some point. Advancing in smooth, effortless strides, the Inquisitor stood over Quenby's still form and looked down at her. He appraised her for a long time before ordering Leon to help her up. The thief could not stand on her own, and leaned weakly against Leon for support. Her whole body was bruised and filthy. Lord Verne's sharp eyes devoured her like a hawk spotting its prey. Leon felt the rising chill as the Inquisitor unceremoniously launched himself into the thief's mind. Quenby struggled at first, body twitching and groaning in combat, but her fighting spirit had broken and she merely clung to Leon for support. Whatever Lord Verne was looking for, he found it.
"She comes with us" he announced. "Monsieur Kane, go fetch the vehicle. Doctor, see to this young girl. My lady Sira was quite thorough and I would hate for such a promising young mind to die before we can truly examine her."
They set about for their appointed tasks. Sira continued to stand over the girl, hands balled into tight fists. It was clear that she wanted to kill the girl and be done with it. As Leon reached the entrance he saw Lord Verne approach the Interrogator and hold out his hand. Sira reluctantly handed over the drachans she had pocketed earlier. Leon's last look into the alley was that of Lord Verne dropped the coins into one of Quenby's limp hands. The thief didn't seem to notice. Her face was pale and she did not appear to be conscious anymore. Leon hoped she wouldn't die. Then again, if Lord Verne had plans for her, maybe it would be better she did.
A/N: I apologize that I promised a quick next chapter and then nothing happened. I got a temp-job that is awesome and pays well, but it's 14ish hour work days and I'm not near a computer so I've been more or less unable to do more than check my emails every other day and finally got around to knocking this out.
Brother-Sergeant Rafen- thank you for your kind words. I too pray for more :)
Tombawei- I noticed you said nothing about my incomplete stories. lol
Tbrad123- ditto aboves, let me know if you have any question about things I need to clarify or suggestions. I am open to reviewers' requests.
Kondoru- I can neither confirm nor deny said accusation. But I can promise you Castiel will be back, and even more outrageous as the story progresses.
As I said to Tbrad, please let me know in reviews where I do particularly well (and where I whiff something terribly). Constructive criticism is wonderful and helps me get through writer's block. Ask me questions, comment on things you think/want to happen, etc...