Fame Cimex Chapter 27
In the slums of the Hive City an eternal twilight reigned, here the faint polluted light of the sky barely reached the ground and what it illuminated was barely worth looking upon. Here the detritus of humanity eked out a miserable existence, the lost, the destitute, the infirm and the deranged all left to rot by an uncaring world. All those fortunate enough to live in better environs sneered at these inhabitants, seeing them as no better than the mutants and gang scum who lived in the underhive itself.
This was a neglected and tawdry place to be and those who lived here knew that they had been forgotten by the rest of humanity. Yet today someone was taking an interest, today five Transhuman giants were cautiously stalking their way deeper into the slums, seeking the spoor of something only they could scent. They were clad in ceramite coloured in shades of ash and smoke, that sank into the dark like oil on water. They were the Smoke Jaguars and they were on the hunt.
They proceeded in a widespread formation, slowly moving from cover to cover and keeping to the shadows at all times. This was not the standard Codex deployment for a sweep and destroy mission, this was something far more elegant and subtle. Each warrior was a veteran hunter, accustomed to stalking the most dangerous of prey and moving silently past any guards or detection. Most other Chapters would have looked down upon such tactics, considering them beneath the dignity of the Astartes but the Smoke Jaguars cared not. Bombastic glory and boastful honour was for brutish soldiers, they were here to hunt and if there was glory to be had then it would be in the moment of the kill itself.
Moving at the heart of their formation was a single warrior quite different to his kin, with a large staff and a psychic hood that shimmered with ethereal energies, Shade-Seer Imix himself. The Chief Librarian was well accustomed to such labours, for he had often championed his Chapter's compulsive need to track and slay those who thought they could prey upon humanity with impunity. Imix had personally slain monsters and heretics and even base criminals across a whole Segmentum and he had been the natural choice for such an endeavour, but today he was troubled. As he slipped from place to place his Psychic senses were extended to the maximum, sweeping the city around him. Imix was a Telepath, one of surpassing potency, and the minds of the inhabitants were open books to him. He could feel the souls of men all around him; hear their petty concerns and resentments like the chatter of a crowd in a confined room.
The lewdness and vulgarity of the human mind often wore at him, the sheer petty mindedness of humanity chipping at his sense of nobility. Yet every now and then he stumbled upon a mind who gave him hope, those who lived quiet unassuming lives, working for the betterment of others in ways that would never be celebrated or even recorded. Sometimes even the most hardened and callous of souls could show surprising compassion, shining moments in time like bright diamonds in a mound of coal. This was the normal state of affairs for Imix and he was well used to the contradictory paradox of the human condition. He could hear it all, even animal minds were open to him, but what he could not hear was the mind of his target: the Tyranid Lictor.
Imix was sweeping back and forth but there was nothing to be heard, the creature's presence was absent from the entire city, as if it did not exist. Bereft of his psychic advantages the Shade-Seer had been forced to use more mundane methods, following scuffs and blood trails and the discarded remains of vermin. Even this spoor had been scant and well-hidden, had the Smoke Jaguars been any less expert at tracking they would have been left completely dumbfounded. Still after two days of searching, they had picked up an erratic trail, faint but undeniable and it had led them to this slum. Presently they were surveying a derelict building, non-descript and unremarkable in every way, just like every building in the area.
The trail had led them here and there it stopped; now Imix was considering his options. It could be a decoy or a false trail but somehow that did not feel correct, Imix was sure this was the target though he could not say why. Cautiously he extended his mind and swept the building, looking for signs of the quarry but found nothing, there was no life within. The Shade-Seer sighed and was about to order his squad to backtrack when something struck him: there was no life inside at all. Imix paused and swept the building again and this time recognised what his subconscious was telling him. The building was deserted by all life, including vermin, avians, and insects, even the cockroaches were fleeing in all directions.
Confident that he had found the right target Imix signalled his Brothers and alerted them to the target. Using his Chapter's secret, silent sign language he directed the four of them to approach the structure, each entering the building by a different route, so to catch the quarry unawares. The Smoke Jaguars moved out, each Astartes drawing his Obsidian blade and the blackened metal looked like shards of midnight in their hands. They spread out and began scaling the walls, climbing effortlessly even in heavy armour, as each brother sought to enter a different floor.
Meanwhile Imix moved to a rotten door and silently opened it, the resistance of the warped wood being as nothing to a Transhuman's strength. Imix slowly crept inside, impossibly making no sound on the warped floorboards as he entered. Inside the building was like a shadowy cave, the interior walls covered in dank mildew and barely a hint of light slipped in through the broken windows. Imix couldn't see anything with his mundane eyes nor his psychic senses, but some primal instinct was screaming at him that danger was close, so very very close.
Imix went utterly still and silent as he scoured the space, but he could not see anything and knew that he needed to venture out further. Imix dug deep into his soul and reached for the shadows, calling upon his genetic legacy to Wraith-Slip and disappear from all sight. Once wrapped in the shadows he cautiously stepped out, looking for the slightest hint that the quarry was here and alert for danger at all times. His heart rates increased and his enhanced glands pumped hyper-adrenaline into his bloodstream, keeping him on a razor's edge and ready to fight. With every nerve on edge Imix swept the floor, checking rooms one by one but finding nothing. All signs pointed to him being alone here, but still his instincts screamed he was in danger and he felt an unfamiliar sensation of wanting to look behind his back every few seconds.
Suddenly there was the faintest creaking noise behind him and Imix whirled with his staff raised to fight. His eyes flashed over the room looking for his enemy but found nothing, then he saw a shutter creaking at a broken window, pushed back and forth by a faint breeze. Imix almost sighed in relief but held back the instinct, his hearts were still beating rapidly and the hairs on the back of his neck yet stood up. Swallowing his trepidation Imix cleared the floor and found a staircase leading up, determining that nothing more was to be gained here he proceeded upwards to find another wrecked space. Imix suddenly paused, as his nose detected the scent of blood and then he saw it: there, right there, over by a window was a shadowy lump where none should be.
Imix sank deeper into the Wraith-slip, becoming one with the darkness and then he slipped forwards. He held his staff firmly and kept his mind open, ready to draw upon the Warp's power at a moment's notice. Step by step he crept forwards, closing in on the shadow as he prepared to pounce. The shadow did not react, unaware of his approach until he was too close and then he struck. Imix leapt forwards, springing towards the target with his Force Staff held out as he struck. Yet at the last second he pulled back, halting his strike awkwardly before he made contact. Imix's eyes widened in surprise when he realised he knew this shadow, this was not some Xeno, this was one of his own kin: Brother Cotoyl.
The Smoke Jaguar was stretched out on the ground with his throat cut open, the wound gaping and covered in blood. The Space Marine must have been taken by surprise for there were no signs of a battle, and his blade was unbloodied in his hands. Imix scowled in frustration and sadness, the death of a brother was never easy and yet a small part of his mind asked why Cotoyl had been left out like this, where anybody could find it. Then his eyes widened and he cursed himself for a fool: this was no battle scene, this was bait for a trap.
Imix spun on his heel with his staff held out before him and there was a loud clang as the haft caught two long serrated talons in the act of stabbing towards his head. Imix looked past the talons and saw a creature of nightmare attached to them, covered in chitin, with elongated limbs and a mass of tendrils where its mouth should be. With a surge of lightning-fast blows the Lictor came at him, stabbing and slashing with its overhead talons and two hands tipped with razor-sharp claws. The attack was swift and sure, ferocious and unrestrained as only a predator could be. Imix fell back desperately parrying with his staff and as he did so he realised that the creature knew where he was despite his Wraith-slip: it could see him.
Imix reached out with his mind, trying to find a chink in the mental armour. What he found was shocking, there was nothing in its head, no abstract thought, no reason or emotion. The Lictor's mind was made purely of instinct and primal urges, driving it to hunt or to hide with all the free will of a servitor. No wonder he could not sense the beast, even its mind was nothing but a camouflage. Imix fought off a flurry of claws as he tried to find an angle, if he had been a Telekine or a Pyromancer he could have wrecked carnage but he was a Telepath, fighting a foe with no mind. Deprived of his psychic advantage Imix was forced to fight as a regular Astartes, using muscles and weapons instead of his customary psionic tools.
Imix blocked a vicious strike and twisted his grip, throwing the Lictor aside before following up with a roundhouse blow. Yet the creature bent inhumanly under the swing and came back with claws outstretched. Imix ducked so that the claws merely scored across his pauldron and then he slammed his elbow into a leathery midriff, forcing the beast back. The creature hissed in response and prepared to leap back at him but then there was a clatter of armoured boots signalling that the rest of the Smoke Jaguars were approaching. Imix was too skilled to glance away even for a moment, but still he was unprepared when the Lictor's mouth tendrils quivered and it sprayed a vicious acidic mucus at him.
Imix hastily raised his arm before his face and let the spray splatter over the ceramite, dissolving his proud colours. He was instantly back on guard but the moment of distraction was enough, for the Lictor was already diving away. Even as he watched the Lictor bounded away and jumped at a window, shattering the glass as it dove through into the darkness outside. Imix ran to the window intending to follow but he pulled up short when he saw the exterior.
Outside the window was only darkness, with no hint as to what direction the Lictor had fled in. Imix growled in anger as he realised that the creature had escaped him, the hunt would have to continue elsewhere.