A/N:
Chapter's here after a long, busy week. This whole chapter was basically supposed to be a sidenote in the story, but I found some momentum and went with it. I've noticed recently that I write a lot of quirky (and disturbed) characters, and I hope that's not saying something about my own life. Maybe I'm influenced by the guys I RP with. When you're used to dealing with a Tech Priest who puts Santa hats on everyone/everything and has full-on emotional breakdowns when his servoskull gets blown up, or a Blood Angel whose pet (think Warp-pitbull) has a higher Intelligence than he does...
Hope y'all enjoy. Anna and her super-creepiness will be back in the next chapter. There will be demented perversions of nursery rhymes too.
Under the Mountain
The battle was over. Louk sat outside the cell building, balancing easily on an overturned water barrel, smoking a lho stick he had begged off one of the Elysians. The soothing fumes did little for him, in truth, but this had been one of those times when it felt like the thing to do. His body was exhausted beyond rational limitation. A random passerby could eyeball him and see that the only thing keeping him ticking was the artificial boost of adrenaline granted by his precious stimm shots. His whole body was trembling. His bones ached, his limbs hung as close to the ground as they could. Tired. So fecking tired.
He knew they were not done here, not by a long shot. Battles did not end when the shooting stopped; they ended days and weeks later when bodies had been collected, ordinance accounted for, intelligence scoured, and all questions sufficiently investigated. Give it a few hours and Helsing would shift into that role, the one of the Inquisitor-investigator. Then Louk would be run all over the city to look up names, locations, etcetera. That was for later, however. For now he enjoyed the lho stick and watched the soldiers go about their work.
It was pretty clear that the defenders had not gone down easily. There was almost a whole company's worth of Elysian bodies lined up for burial detail outside the Senate Tower. Beside those lay two Praetorians and a Thracian whose head was nowhere to be found. Just meters away in a gutted office building the wounded were fighting for their lives as medicae tended to them with what supplies had made it from the rear lines. It was hard to get any quality items, let alone the quantity needed, this far under the mountain this quickly. Many of the wounded would not make it. He wondered what the casualty estimates for this campaign were. Some general was going to have a lot of explaining to do.
The carnage was much more appreciable now that he could see the carpets of dead that filled the streets and decorated windows. A team of Cadian enginseers had repaired the primary city generators, restoring most of the light, but the heavy smoke cloud above swallowed so much that visibility was about the same as a half-mooned night. Louk had long ago lost his fear of the dark. Underhivers spent their lives in the shadows and dark pits. He sometimes preferred the dark to the light. Apex predators thrived in the dark.
Despite the severe casualties and the oppressive darkness of the poorly illuminated city, the Guard soldiers carried themselves with vigor. Commanders barked out orders to their units, sending men scurrying to clear houses and secure whole city blocks. His microbead was working again now that friendlies were in range, and the sheer amount of chatter had forced him to turn it off to spare his battered ears. The Imperial soldiers transitioned from ruthless attackers to forceful occupiers with practiced ease. Most every intersection in sight had a soldier on guard, command units were coordinating house-by-house clearing. Every so often a shot would ring out, interrupting all channels for a few tense seconds, then someone would report cessation of hostilities and the subtle buzz of voices would resume.
The spearhead elements of the main Guard force were the Cadians, of course. The green-and-khaki clad professionals had instigated the defensive collapse when they achieved a breach just large enough for a platoon to make it through. That small gap had mushroomed outwards with such speed that the entire sector caved, which have a domino effect on the whole front. True to their hardfighting, merciless reputation, they had chased the defenders straight back to the city itself, advancing so rapidly that they outpaced the other sectors and found themselves fighting both forwards into the city and backwards to hold off the retreating foes. Somewhere around four thousand defenders had been slaughtered in the tunnels, caught between the ferocious Cadians and the other Guard commands.
Having both the manpower and the experience to deal with urban pacification, the Cadians had taken over this phase of the campaign. Cadian uniforms had spread through the city, tasked with organizing and coordinating the other Imperial units to ensure that the undercity saw a full sweep that left no surprises for later waves of intelligence and non-combatants. Didn't want one of the glorious generals to get shot at by an undiscovered diehard.
Not all of the defenders had perished. Many asked for quarter, throwing their weapons away and begging for mercy when their options were reduced to grovel or die. Some units were more generous about accepting their surrender than others. What defenders managed to stay alive were rounded up into prisoner details and tasked with clearing the streets of the dead under the watchful eyes of trigger happy soldiers. Here and there a passing Guardsmen or PDF trooper would gun one down for the hell of it. No one cared, no one pitied the dead. The Legionnaires were the dregs of the worst scum imaginable.
Louk tried to not think about how easily he could have been counted among their number. Taking a long and breathy drag from the lho stick, he rested his head against the side of the building and exhaled slowly. His breath was scratchy, lighter than normal. Definitely had lost a lung. He'd have to talk to Helsing about that. Wasn't going to be much good in fights if he couldn't draw enough air to keep up.
His gaze drifted right to the armored Thracians standing guard in front of the broken cell building doorway. After returning from the Senate Tower, Helsing had ordered the building to be closed off to everyone, even the Inquisition. The Tower was going to draw a lot of attention, a lot of curious eyes, but the Eldar were a resource he was not keen on sharing. Especially not with some of the puritans coming this way. No, this was Helsing's find and no one elses. The God-Emperor could get off his Golden Throne and come down here himself and Helsing would tell him to go sod off. The only one not of his retinue who had been allowed in was Getta, who naturally knew all about the xenos inside, but even then it had taken some deliberation before Helsing allowed her back.
The Inquisitor had been inside for a while now, doing Throne only knew what. Louk didn't particularly care. It seemed that Angry Eyes had taken almost a shine to the dashing and powerful Inquisitor. Not a weird shine, but where she had only contempt for Louk, she regarded Helsing with respect. Almost as an equal. That was the Inquisitor's deal to handle. As far as Louk was concerned, he was done with it all. He closed his eyes and tried to not think about the witch inside. A hundred years could pass and he wouldn't forget the richness of her eyes, the hauntingly beautiful curve of her lips. Her face appeared in his mind and it gave him the shivers. Warpcraft, he thought to himself, absently making a sign to ward off evil. The last thing he needed was to let his thoughts dwell on the aliens inside. Being away from them was like drinking from a crystal stream after sipping on mud-water. He breathed easier knowing that the witch was not watching him.
When he opened his eyes he spotted a man who was very obviously not a soldier. Short and rotund, armed with nothing more than a well-oiled beard and an overlarge dataslate, he reminded Louk of an archivist out on break from his research. He wasn't that, of course. Louk did not need to observe the twenty black-clad stormtroopers that marched behind and around him to understand that he was the first of the other Inquisitors to arrive. Many more would follow, all seeking a thousand answers to a thousand questions. Some would be brutes and warriors, others refined aristocrats with no interest in the bloody affairs of war. This one was vaguely familiar. He tried to match a name to the Inquisitor's face, but gave up quickly. Too tired for that nonsense. Best to let someone else handle the man.
Satisfied that he needn't bother with the man, Louk returned his attention to the lho stick in his hand. He ran a calloused and bloody hand across his jaw, noting the thick layer of stubble that had accumulated in the recent days. He must look a fearful mess. He snuck a look over at the disheveled pile tucked between supply crates that the Guard medics had managed to lug over. Gutterball could sleep anywhere, on anything. It had taken the rat-faced mutant all of three seconds to pass out in his little niche. Rotten egg-sucking bastard. Louk knew without having to verify that the twist had hung back from most of the fighting. He had put in a lot less work, yet there he was napping peacefully while Louk couldn't catch a minute of shuteye.
Shaking his head and muttering darkly about the unfairness of it all, Louk turned to cast another look over the Guard activities. He froze, lho stick perched precariously between his fingers and his mouth, staring at the unnervingly cheerful face of the archivist-Inquistior. The man wore thin-frame spectacles with bifocal lenses. They cut his eyes in half, giving the mindnumb rogue a rough go of trying to meet the man's gaze. The lho stick slipped, sliding off his wet bottom lip and rolling down his blood-soaked pants leg before it plopped onto the muddy ground. The Inquistior tilted his head up until he was staring down his nose at Louk. Somehow he managed to not make the pose seem condescending.
"A fair morning to you, my good man. I see that you are not a member of our Emperor's fine soldier-caste. Might I inquire as to your profession?"
"You… fuh…sure?" Louk shrugged, struggling to process the man's warbling tenor accent. To his explosion-rattled ears it sounded almost like a child's squealing. Casting a disappointed frown at the fallen lho stick, he decided against recovering it and stomped it out. "Name's Shannegh, sir. Work for Helsing."
"Ah-ha!" The man grinned as if he had just found platinum in his backyard. He extended a clean and well-manicured hand. "One of Victor's infamous Hounds. It is a pleasure to meet you, Mister Shannegh. I am Abara Grundy, a colleague and old friend. Is Victor about?"
"…Victor?" Louk stared at the man's hand, then to his own. They seemed so dirty in comparison that he held back from accepting the man's handshake. Didn't want to muck up the man's sleeves. Abara Grundy wore a red velvet doublet of the finest quality. Yellow silk peeked out from gauntleted cuffs, buttoned with silver pieces that each bore the face of an Imperial Saint, accentuating just how expensive his outfit was. Thought Louk rarely cared about such things, he found himself hesitating. And it wasn't just because the man knew Helsing's first name.
Abara Grundy lowered his hand, not at all offended by Louk's lack of acceptance. Slipping a hand inside his coat, he withdrew a handkerchief of the same color and material as the frills on his sleeves. The man blew his nose in an entirely too-delicate fashion, frowning only slightly as if he had just caught the stench of death and decay that filled the air. Louk had the feeling that Abara Grundy was not the sort of man to be found on the battlefield often. He was the kind of man who delved into books, traced histories and paper trails, and handed the wetwork off to proper authorities.
"Helsing's… that way" Louk said, indicating the door. "But you can't go in there. His orders."
"My, my, is Victor keeping secrets?" Abara giggled as if he had just shared a joke. "I wonder what has gripped his attention that he is not crawling over the enemy command centers with a fine-toothed brush. That is not their command center, I wager."
"No, it's-" he caught himself. Chuckling softly, Louk winked at the Inquisitor and leaned back against the barrel. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
A sly gleam shifted across the Inquisitor's face and Abara dabbed at his forehead, wiping imaginary beads of sweat away. The glittering intelligence reminded him of the sewer vipers he had grown up around. Vicious predators that coiled up in the piping, hiding in shadows until an unsuspecting victim walked underneath. Then they struck without remorse. They learned, too. Traps never worked more than once, their hunting grounds shifted. A perfect predator.
"I just love mysteries" the man said, appearing pleased rather than put off.
Abara Grundy turned his head to study the doorway again, sharp eyes drinking in the sight of the Thracians. Then he darted over to study the Praetorians perched on rooftops surrounding the near arc of the Senate Tower. Helsing had lent them to the Cadian lieutenant in control of the Senate Tower district. The lieutenant, a young but scarred man of thin build and fierce countenance, had taken the sight of the vastly different soldiers without so much as a hiccup, deploying them immediately to locations where their abilities were best put to use. The Thracians occupied roadblocks while the Praetorians provided overwatch. Just what Helsing would have done.
"My, but he has a sense of style." Abara Grundy gestured to the soldiers. "Scouts and siege infantry, Ogryns… the theatrics are quite breathtaking."
"If you say so." Louk lowered himself to the ground and straightened out his back. The nearest stormtroopers watched him through their opaque facemasks, their thoughts hidden. Their armor was pristine, polished, and their weapons still gleamed with blessed cleaning oils. Cleaner than the bells at a chantry service. The shiny quality did not fool him; stormtroopers were mean sons of bitches no matter what they wore. "What can I do for you?"
"Hm… it appears as if you have already done quite a deal, good sir. I would be loathe to impose when you are so clearly enjoying a much-needed rest." Abara's smile took on a slightly sad quality, that of a man giving away his favorite pet. Whether that was a real emotion, or one faked to try and draw on Louk's nonexistent pity-strings, it did not encourage Louk to insist that he had time to spare. The sooner this Inquisitor walked away, the sooner he could get back to attempting rest. Whichever intention Abara Grundy had, he seemed true to his word. Taking a step back, he glanced over to the blocked doorway a final time. His smile had not slipped. "No… I believe I will retire to the Senate Tower, I should think, to delve into the wealthy delights of knowledge that await."
"Delights?" Louk couldn't help but glower at the Inquisitor. His fists tightened at his side, reflexively drawing together in the muscle-memory of launching a ruthless jab into the face of a sneering noblehiver. "Delights, sir? A feck ton of people died here. Good Imperial men, slaughtered by the thousands to get us in here. There is nothing delightful about that!"
His outburst earned him a brace of hellguns lifted in his direction and a bark of warning from what he assumed was the stormtrooper commander. These men were much like Louk, only trained as soldiers. Iron discipline, ferocious loyalty to the death, eager trigger fingers to eliminate those that disturbed their master. He stared down the one's barrel, daring him to pull the trigger. It would be the only blood they drew in this campaign, he betted.
"Watch your tone" the trooper growled. His hellgun whined as it drew rapidly to full charge. Louk had seen a hellgun in action before; a high-powered shot could punch a hole in Astartes armor. Here it would go through him and dig a meter's tunnel into the wall behind him. Dead before he knew the trigger had been pulled.
"There is no need for unpleasantness" Abara insisted, waving a hand to calm the stormtroopers. Though his arms flailed desperately, only the faintest hint of distress played at his features. Not a fan of confrontation, Louk guessed. That would go hand-in-hand with his turning up after the battle had ended. Whatever his inclinations, he commanded immediate obedience from his troopers. They lowered their weapons and stepped back, postures remaining ramrod straight and tensed for battle. Probably were giving him death glares.
Turning back to Louk, the strange little man clasped his hands in apology. "I sincerely apologize for my faux pas. I misspoke when I voiced my intent. There is an abundance of information to be gleaned from these heathens, and it has been acquired at a terrible cost. I meant no disrespect, Mister Shannegh, to you or the loyal souls that perished on the way. But I am not a fighter, I am a scholar, and my contribution to this campaign is of a different nature. Delving into the nature of the xenos is a dangerous path, one that few can appreciatively balance. You sacrifice your lives, I sacrifice my mind, so to speak."
"Since when did Abara Grundy know the meaning of sacrifice" Helsing boomed as he came striding out of the cell building. The Thracians stepped hurriedly to the side, almost sliding around the hulking Inquisitor before returning to their place. Penance followed on his heels, her eyes shaded behind the dropmask of her battle helm. She wore a new scar at the corner of her mouth, hastily but skillfully stitched. A ripping wound, as if a hook or blade had nicked her mouth.
Imposing as she was, Helsing was more fearsome by far. A fierce scowl had settled on Helsing's face. He stomped forward, gazing at Abara Grundy with the intensity of a charging Ork. Louk scampered backwards to avoid being run over.
"Victor!" Abara threw his arms out wide and wrapped the much taller Inquisitor in a friendly hug, uncaring of the blood and grime that caked Helsing's power armor. Mud smeared his face and spectacles, dirtied his fine clothes. Louk stared in astonishment as Helsing broke into a broad grin and slapped the portly archivist-Inquisitor on the back. All traces of anger bled away, disappearing so quickly that Louk knew that Helsing had been putting on a show for their benefit.
"Abara. Still hanging onto the coattails of better men?"
"Oh, you jokester." The smaller man pulled away and a faint mist seeped out of his clothes. The filth slipped away, pooling about his feet and leaving his clothes returned to their pristine condition. Clever. Wiping his face clean with the handkerchief, he finished cleaning himself as he sized Helsing up. Both men stared at each other, friends separated by time. Abara Grundy was the first to speak.
"You are looking young as ever, my friend."
"Give it time" Helsing replied. "A few more years and you'll have your own chance at eternal youth."
"That would be the day" Abara said, offering an exaggerated sigh. He gestured towards Louk and Penance. "You have interesting companions. Almost like when I trained at your side."
"Life is hard enough. Why trudge through the filth without reason for entertainment." Helsing reached over and grabbed Louk's shoulder. The unactivated power fist still was still heavy, and Louk strained against it to remain fully standing. "Reaper, this is Abara Grundy, my former student. Recently arrived to Tenea, just as this front opened."
Louk switched his gaze from one Inquisitor to the other. This was Helsing's former student? It was hard to believe, except for his knowledge of Helsing's regular rejuvenant treatments. Whereas Helsing was young-looking, brash and full of dark charisma, Abara was a man of middle-age, with bookish resemblances and a less-than-threatening appearance. To the untrained eye, Abara was the senior in the pair. The mysteries of Imperial science never ceased the amaze him.
"Former student, huh?" Louk offered a distracted smile. He eased free of Helsing's grip, rubbing his shoulder where the power fist had rested. The cold hard metal did little to ease the aching in his torn flesh. "Guess that makes you ancient, boss."
"Age is a relative thing for servants of the God-Emperor" Abara cut in, his eyes twinkling. "I have met children that have lived fuller lives than white-haired grandfathers."
"You remembered your lessons" Helsing observed.
"Of course." The pudgy Inquisitor beamed. "I had an exemplary teacher."
"And your shameless pandering continues." Helsing's smile remained, but the warmth was fading. He pointed to the Senate Tower. "We must catch up some time, but not today. You'll find everything you are looking for in there. This building is restricted."
"So your man told me." Abara gestured vaguely towards Louk. He winked conspiratorially and leaned his head in closer. "This wouldn't have anything to do with the reason you sent a team in ahead of the main force, now would it?"
"I didn't send a team" Helsing replied, deflecting the question. He gestured again towards the Senate Tower. Impatience seeped into his expression. "You'll have to excuse me, Abara. We both have work to do."
A grimace threatened to steal the smile from the shorter man's face, but he smoothed it over and nodded. "Just so, just so. Will I see you later, friend?"
"Perhaps." The dismissal was clear. Not arguing, Inquisitor Grundy let out a low whistle to his men. It was a specific tone, three notes up then one down. Must have been a prearranged signal, because the stormtroopers broke formation and spread out, half going towards the Tower, the rest taking a short perimeter around the entrance. Louk watched them go for a moment, but Helsing had turned to stare at him expectantly. Here it was, time for work again. He glanced down at the stomped-out lho stick and sighed. Penance remained two steps to the side and three behind, giving the Inquisitor space. Her lips were moving without making sound. She was singing, Louk recognized. Post-battle, meant a hymnal dirge for the fallen. Those were the creepiest ones.
"Did you tell him anything?"
"Nothing, except that he wasn't allowed inside."
The Inquisitor continued to stare, his fierce eyes searching Louk's soul for the veracity of his claim. At last he gave a curt nod and stepped closer. Louk did as well, drawing in to stand right beside the Inquisitor. Penance joined them, completing the circle and leaving Louk dwarfed by the more heavily armored pair.
"Soon this city will be overrun with Inquisitors" Helsing whispered, not sounding keen at all at the prospect of having more of his kind around. Most Inquisitors were loners, not fond of their compatriots. Louk remembered then why Abara Grundy had struck him as familiar. Grundy was the Inquisitor that had killed another Inquisitor back in the rear lines. How the hell had that pudgy dumpling done that?
"Gonna make having the Eldar around a problem" Louk noted, nodding wisely. At least he thought it was wisely. He was so tired he could have been tossing his head like a fool and not realized it. Given that Helsing showed no real response, his motion was accurate enough to his intentions.
"Which is why you are going to evacuate them. I am detailing Lieutenant Eulogy's command and Penance to assist." The woman nodded her assent. "You will escort them to the tunnels, following Major Eurich of the Elysians to the Elysian secondary landing zone. There you will board a flight of Valkyries and head straight to the Arlan Claw. More instructions will follow."
"You want me to take the Praetorians?" Louk glanced over towards the green-clad figure that was Lieutenant Eulogy, standing in a huddle with the other Guard officers. Serving as the official liaison for Helsing, she was in her element as both a troop commander and a political officer. Her noble-bred wit and intelligence kept her shoulder-to-shoulder with the higher-ranking commanders.
Helsing guessed Louk's misgivings and graciously decided to answer them rather than merely order him on. That was a nice thing about him, he made an effort to connect with his people. Most Imperial leaders, whether military, Ecclesiarchy, or political, lacked that character quality. Command was unquestionable, absolute. Those that asked questions were removed. Louk knew that from personal experience.
"No one will stop a squad of exotic Imperial soldiers on a mission. Commandeer some heavy cloaks to hide the xenos. If anyone asks, prisoner detail. Everyone will buy it. If they don't, you are authorized to use my name to turn away persistent eyes. Throne's mercy, though, try to avoid trouble. We have enough on our hands as it is." Helsing tipped his head back towards the cell building. "That is a real piece of work done over to my esteemed colleague in there. Any of it have your hand?"
"I might have shot him" Louk admitted, offering an unapologetic shrug. Penance's lips stopped, her attention torn from the hymns by his answer. The muscles in her jaw and throat tightened as she held in her anger. Jadus might have been a cold-hearted ass, but he was still an Inquisitor. That was one of the dependable things about Penace. Imperial religious authority was ultimate authority, no matter the character. "That's about it, I think. Memory's a little fuzzy."
"That is awfully convenient." The Inquisitor's mouth curled in sneer. "Fecking bastard is the reason Farragut is dead. He betrayed our night assaults, had cronies launch flares where he thought we were. Luckily for us I had already pulled back to redeploy. Farragut was not so fortunate."
"Glad to know that we Imperials are so team-focused" Louk growled under this breath. "Should have slotted the bastard when I had the chance. What are you going to do with him?"
"Currently he is sedated. Once you take the Eldar away I will have him deposited in some other portion of the city where he will be found by Sergeant Nicolai's Thracians. I am sure that whatever follows will be dismissible as the ramblings of a battered and drugged halfwit who managed to get himself captured."
"You could just kill him."
"Too much paperwork." Helsing showed no hint of amusement or jollity. "Jadus has friends, and they would not take his death well. Better to leave him alive."
"Bugger. Wish I'd be around to see his face when he wakes up though." Louk grinned at the thought. His grin faded when he looked around. "Where's Anna, by the way? I haven't seen her around?"
"She…" Helsing paused, glancing about as if searching for listeners. He lowered his voice before answering. "She is hunting. Your psyker never showed up inside the Senate Tower. Odds are he went to a bolt hole before we arrived. She's looking for him."
"The psyker is still out there?" Louk shivered. Getting out of the city suddenly seemed like a really, really good idea. He excused himself and headed over towards Lieutenant Eulogy. Her eyes met his as he approached and she instinctively glared at him. Then she read the look on his face and a touch of steel masked her thoughts. Backing out of the command circle, she strode over to meet him halfway.
"Reaper?"
"Helsing's orders came in." Louk jerked his thumb towards the cell building. "Pull your Rifles back. We're escorting the prisoners out of here."