Wow, this got really, really long. I may continue it from Cain's perspective, if folks are interested:
Amberley Vail watched the building collapse with a certain amount of annoyance. Her main lead on the genestealer infestation of this world had just been squashed, like bugs. Literally. Had the patriarch realized someone was investigating and destroyed an entire brood to stymie her?
That seemed excessive, even for genestealers. Surely if they'd known she was coming, they'd have tried to ambush her. That was what other genestealers had done. Their taint and ability to spread it made them paradoxically predictable as they sought to do so. Tainting an inquisitor would be a massive win for them, whereas this was just a loss to delay her. Unless they were going to act imminently, it didn't make any sense as self-sacrifice.
The sound of stubber fire from around the collapsed entryway cut off that line of thought. She raised a hand and gestured. One of the half-dozen house guards she'd 'borrowed' from uphive, moved out. A moment later he headed back, "Ma'am, looks like whoever blew the building up is killing any survivors. There's what looks like a half the Silver Swords moving through the rubble."
The Silver Swords were the local gang, so named for the silver-dyed mohawks they wore. The guards were reasonably skilled combatants, but weren't trained for stealth beyond basic scouting and possession of concealed weapons. They were the ones House Umari used for down-hive operations, so they didn't stand out too much, but...
She considered her position. Rakel was back in their quarters, still trying to pin down the Patriarch. Yanbel was at the largest Mechanicus Shrine in the hive, while Mott was reviewing the evidence in hopes of finding other targets once they returned with more information.
"With me," she ordered, falling back and casually using her inquisitorial authority to override the locks on a nearby water-tower, climbing rapidly to the top where she could see what was happening. Two guards came with her, the remainder staying below and spreading out to cover the approaches. All followed local tradition and knocked their left hand against the doorjam as they entered, a minor local quirk she deliberately didn't mimic as she wasn't playing a local.
Her vision was, of course, enhanced by some subtle augmetics and instantly focused on the occasional flashes of stubber fire. Indeed, there was what looked like a bunch gangers, though she noted guards on the perimeter and they certainly weren't rushing like they had to be out of there before the local law enforcers showed up.
Their perimeter guards were even handling crowd control as well as trained Arbites, casually turning away the curious and the inquisitive. The fact that the crowd felt comfortable approaching them said something and it was nothing good about the local authorities control of the situation.
Suddenly there was a shriek as a massive piece of rubble was pushed aside and a purestrain genestealer leapt towards the two gangers who'd come too close. One went down, his head bouncing away, as the genestealer's carapace shed the stubber fire of the second, who was bashed flat, cracking her head on more rubble, before the creature's maw gaped in a prelude to infecting the woman. Then its head exploded. None of the other groups had had a clear line of sight, but her extensive training and experience let her track the sniper shot back to a building not terribly distant from them, one with a clear line of sight to her position.
Instantly she retreated down and led her team around. A few moments later two gangers came out, carrying the woman. A hand signal sent three of her muscle after them, while she and the other two casually followed the now retreating group of gangers. They were four blocks away before she heard the first siren.
The gangers were keeping a close eye on their surroundings, close enough that she had to wave back her escort, having them follow her, while she followed the gangers, as they'd been spotted. After being led a merry chase (and having to contact Yanbel to figure out where the service tunnel they'd ducked into would let out, as she could hardly hide in the totally absent crowd down there), there body language began to relax as they caught sight of a large building, with flashing signs advertising dancing, food, alcohol, sex, gambling and all the other pleasures that the lower orders distracted themselves with and the higher orders indulged in. The gangers had made their weapons vanish and headed inside through an employee's entrance, each knocking for luck as they entered.
The throng at the entrance didn't even notice them. It was an interesting crowd, more split between up-hivers and down-hivers than she was used to, but as her eyes flicked over it, she finally noticed the massive sign on top of the building. "Cain's Club."
She glanced back at the guards who'd finally caught up and raised a curious eyebrow. They got the hint and looked at each other nervously. One nudged the other and she fixed her gaze on him. Despite being at least forty, the man blushed like a juve, "It's Cain's place, uh, they have," he whispered, "prostitutes. I've guarded a few topsiders who come down here looking for thrills."
She looked back at the giant sign of a mostly naked woman, which said "Joygirls! Joyboys! Charges by the hour! Or minute!" and did not comment on his blush.
"Who's this Cain?"
"Don't know him. Don't even know if he runs it, really. Lots of places down here keep the name even after someone new offs the old owner and takes over."
"What about this place, do you know anything?"
"It's one of like ten places below 23rd, I'd trust to get drunk in?" he offered. The 23rd level was the official end of the upper hive. "It's why we take the upper hivers here. It's expensive for down-hive, but cheap for them and safe."
Whoever was running this place was obviously hooked into the local gang and that gang was competent, trusted by the locals, and hunting genestealers. Maybe this wasn't a dead-end. She summoned the rest of her people to join her and bring along a few things. Her current clothing was hardly appropriate for the Club, at least given what the other patrons were wearing.
Most seemed to be dressed like this was a dance club, though she saw that some of the up-hivers were wearing what they clearly thought was down-hiver clothing, but they were all traced by discrete bodyguards, so no one made any fuss about it.
While the others were making their way over, she got word back, that the woman had been brought to someone who advertised themselves as a medicare and now was being released. She and the two other gangers were heading towards the Club as well.
Yanbel beat them there and began to observe the place and see if he could get into their systems. Which was good, as when they knocked and went in the employee entrance, his mechanical eyes widened. "There's a genecode scanner built into the door."
She blinked at that. The tech wasn't massively rare, but it wasn't common either. She glanced at the main entrance. "Is there one on that door too?"
It took a moment for Yanbel to get a clear line of sight through the crowd, but she knew what the answer would be by the fact that the bouncer said something to one person who tried to go in without following custom and they flushed angrily before knocking and giving the bouncer what looked like mocking apologies. Yanbel confirmed it. Whoever was running this place knew about the genestealer threat and was taking no risks.
Her hopes began to rise as Rakel arrived and plummeted when she realized her psyker had not, apparently, understood her direction about what dress to bring. Instead of her static-cling dress, she had brought a gray ball gown, more suited for an up-hive diplomatic conference than a down-hive party. At least she'd brought the right jewelry.
After a moment's thought, she decided to just live with it, a few minor modifications and it would pass muster. She changed swiftly, Mott arrived as she casually fixed her hair to something more reasonable and divided her forces. Mott, Yanbel and one of the guards would stay outside, watching and trying to get further into the systems. The rest would accompany her in her guise as Lady Vail.
As she finished preparing, Mott briefed her. Apparently the Club stood at the intersection of three major gangs territory and glancing at the various guards/staff they could see included members of all three gangs, which was either impressive, or worrisome, depending on what it meant. She'd find out soon.
With four visible guards, the fist-sized ruby hanging around her neck, the gaudy ring on her finger, and her own beauty, they let her group through quickly. The entry hallway opened almost immediately to a massive area with a large number of gambling machines and tables set up. Music leaked slightly from the ceiling as most of the guests headed directly towards the lifts.
An automated voice, warm and rich, spoke constantly in the entryway, "Looking to win big? Gambling straight ahead! Dance the night away on floor two! Quench your thirst and find a companion on floor three! Rest up for more fun on the fourth floor. Head all the way up for our award winning food. Real meat, no corpse-starch! Or go down and prove your mettle in Cain's Circle!"
The staff inside were all wearing clothing that was clearly a uniform, but rather than go pseudo-livery, like many up-hive establishments, this place leaned into its down-hive location. All of them were wearing black rat-leather, each with a single giant spider fang hanging from an earing. That had to be a deliberate affectation, they were down-hive, but well above the areas where the rats and spiders were a real threat. No, she noticed one of their number giving orders to the rest and she had two fangs, one in each ear. It must be some sort of rank.
The woman with two fangs stared at them for just a moment, then turned away. To anyone else it probably wasn't noticeable, but Amberley was sure the woman had noticed something. And indeed, she lifted the fang, like she was just fiddling with it and spoke briefly. Unfortunately for her, Amberley was good at reading lips. Unfortunately, the woman turned away partway through, so all she got was 'Got a potential problem down here, boss.'
Whoever ran this place had the resources to give his people disguised comm equipment, along with the genecode scanners, she was getting more and more impressed. This was less like a gang and more like an Imperial Guard post. But for the moment she needed to decide what to do. Something had been spotted about them. She could confront them, or just go about her business. Between Rakel and her guards, she didn't think they'd have much luck if they tried to solve the 'problem' that was her as directly as they had the building full of genestealers.
Heading into the gambling hall, she decided to let them come to her. She didn't have to wait long. After winning three hands of tarot, a thin ratling with three fangs (one hanging around his neck) and gold rings on each of his fingers approached her table. "Milady, you are invited to the owner's table."
She looked over him, noting that every other employee on the floor was paying attention to them. "My goodness, after winning only three hands? Usually establishments like this are more gracious with winners."
He gave what seemed to be a genuinely offended frown, "Milady, we take pride in treating our customers well, if you wish to continue gambling, you are of course free to do so. Perhaps your companion," he nodded to Rakel who was staring off into space and muttering to herself, "would like some food? Accompanied of course by as many of your...associates as you like?"
That was...strange. There were a lot of potential options, starting with trying to divide her forces. But the offer told her something. "Not at all. I'd be happy to dine with Cain. Is it a Cain who actually owns this place? I've never been before and my guides didn't know."
"Indeed. Please follow me."
"Will my winnings be safe here? I hardly want to carry them around, that would be gauche."
"Of course, milady."
And indeed, as she watched, the table she was playing at was closed, the other patrons ushered away and a brawny employee took up position by the closed table, glaring at anyone who came close.
"So, does Cain do this often? Invite impressionable young offworld women to dine with him?" she asked.
"No, milady."
"Ooo, then what makes me so special?" she asked, fiddling with the ruby that doubled as a camera for Yanbel and making sure he got a good feed of the entire lift.
"I couldn't say, milady," his features were controlled, but again they flickered to Rakel. Could they have figured out she was a psyker? That would certainly be something that would concern both gangsters and anyone who ran a gambling den. If this was all because they thought she was using Rakel to cheat, she was going to scream. But at least it might get her the access she needed to their higher ups.
The restaurant was unusual, it was a three tiered affair, built around a central column, which was clearly the kitchen, as dishes issued forth frequently. The bottom tier had rougher tables, service and food and was mostly inhabited by locals. The second tier was fancier, though still maintaining the low-hive aesthetic, with stuffed animals from the deep underhive and furs acting as rugs for the stone floors. The third floor was occupied entirely by a glass dome containing...something. She could just make out a man who was dressed like an upper-hive major domo, at least if there had been one whose colors were black and red, standing at the entrance, but the angle was bad for anything else. Not helping visibility was the fact that the smoke from the kitchens ran up the side of the dome towards some chimney in the ceiling.
It was obvious where they were going and the ratling calmly led them up the stairs, before nodding to the major domo, "I'll leave you in Jurgen's hands, milady. Pleasant evening."
Amberley didn't acknowledge that, as it would have been beneath her persona to do so.
As she glanced over the thing, well-groomed major domo, he stepped aside and spoke in a trained, carrying voice, "Lady Amberley Vail of the Tyradis System, her ward Rakel and escort."
That was the ID she was operating under here, so there wasn't a security breach, but she had only spoken that name to a few of her fellow gamblers and Rakel hadn't been introduced at all. They were showing off, but they clearly had an information network to show off. And as her old mentor had said 'never interrupt someone when they're showing off, that's when you learn what they think they're capable of.'
She swept in, with the others at her back. The dome had four tables and a sunken seating area. Many of the tables were filled with people she recognized from tailing them back here and indeed, she recognized the sniper getting teased by his fellows as he tried to cut himself another hunk of meat. But there were also members of the other gangs which bordered the Club, all of them mingling, rather than separated by nominal affiliation, which told her something.
Unlike either of the lower tiers, this one did follow what she happened to know was deep underhive serving practices, with some cooked beast and a knife in the center of each table, with each expected to serve themselves from the 'tribe's' food. Their eyes snapped to her for a moment, with the speed of predators who've had some prey animal walk into their den. Her guards glared back with bravado, but she ignored that, as a noble wouldn't even have imagined something could threaten her.
Instead her eyes were drawn to the sunken seating area. There were four couches surrounding a table which was actually made out of wood, a rare substance on a hive world at all, let alone a large, single piece like this. The cooked animal in the center of that table was identical to the others, except far less of it had been eaten.
Three of the couches were filled. The one closest to the entrance (and as far as she could tell, only exit) was left open, clearly for them. As she approached, she internally cursed as the necklace heated up slightly. There was some sort of jammer in place here and no one was reading anything out of her camera now. Putting that aside, she let her eyes run over the occupants of the other couches.
The one to her left contained the woman who'd been injured on the raid and a man who was clearly a medicae. She was eating while he watched her. That showed good sense for a ganger leader, earning loyalty and rewarding service with prestige.
The opposite couch also had two people on it, also a man and a woman. The man sat primly upright and was not eating. Given the augmetics which covered his form, he probably didn't need to. The augmetics followed an unfortunate pattern, not being quite the right size for the holes in his body. She'd seen that before, when an Adeptus Mechanicus drone did something bad enough to get them exiled and stripped of their augmetics, but then lucked out into somehow surviving and replacing them with whichever pieces he could find. This place had a renegade techpriest working for them, which explained a lot.
The other occupant of the couch had a stocky woman whose face was made up mostly of metal and tattoos. Unlike her companion, they weren't augmetics, merely a truly absurd number of piercings.
Three of the tattoos reminded her of something and after a moment, she placed them as belonging to all three of the major gangs Mott had identified as being a concern in this area of the underhive. That was...disturbing. For a moment her mind tried to conclude that the woman was the leader and proclaiming her mastery of all the local powers, but her eyes were drawn inexorably to the last couch.
A man lounged on it casually. Unlike the others, he actually had a weapon visible, though the way Jurgen moved, he had a concealed pistol under his uniform, and the way the tattooed woman was sitting, she had something hidden under the couch. A naked sword lay on the back of the couch, within easy reach of his hand. Given the autoloader just barely visible under his loose black shirtsleeve, he had to have a stubber somewhere, though she didn't spot it.
The man was slender, with the tiny hint of stockiness which suggested a man whose genes had wanted him to be tall and whose malnutrition had disagreed. No tattoos or piercings marred his flesh, though there was a scar crossing through his left eyebrow and down to his cheek. His gaze was amused and calm and his body language almost perfectly matched that, but she saw the undercurrents of attraction, interest and concern. Handsome, and he knew it, but he didn't ogle her exposed flesh, or make any comment, instead Jurgen guided her and Rakel towards the open couch.
"So, you're Cain? This is simply thrilling, I've never been to a real underhive dive and to meet with it's master," she forced a shudder, "what a..." she smiled vapidly, as if she couldn't think of a synonym, "thrill." She extended a hand, partly to see what he would do, and partly for her own amusement.
"Please, call me Cai, everyone does," he said, rising and sweeping her a courtly bow and kissing her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Vail." She simpered and pulled back and internally cursed as she realized the digital needler on that hand, hidden in her ring, was gone. The bastard had stolen it right off her hand. "And your lovely companion, Rakel."
The psyker glanced at them all for a moment, "Smoke hides less than you think," she said, then resumed staring upwards, out of the dome, to where the smoke from the kitchen chimneys was being pulled inexorably upwards by some sort of fan.
"Ah, but I have nothing to hide. Unlike you."
"What could we-"
"Why is an offworld psyker in my bar?" Cain asked Rakel bluntly.
Rakel continued to stare into space and Amberley heard the very slight movement of many, many bodies as the entire group continued to watch them.
Amberley considered her options. There were a lot of reasons for a group of criminals to be concerned about psykers, but the most likely given what she'd seen...she smiled. They weren't really paying attention to her, but when her hand came up, Cain kept it in his peripheral vision and was already twisting to foul a shot if she had any implanted weapons. But everyone froze when the Inquisitorial electoo flashed into existence on her palm.
"Because I asked her to. People tend to do that."
She saw the moment of pure confusion and shock in Cain's body language, but no one else did. The tattooed woman broke the silence that followed that with a laugh. "Damn, boss, didn't think you could get an inquisitor to reveal herself just by pricking her pride."
Cain smiled and sat back down, waving Amberley into the seat that they now recognized was hers, not Rakel's, as they sorted out their inversion of the hierarchy.
"Me? Trick someone? What a shocking accusation. So, Inquisitor..." he let the word trail off, a delicate hint.
"Amberley Vail, Ordo Xenos."
"The pleasure is all mine."
"Oh, I disagree, seeing as how your men have been doing my work."
"Not the jealous sort, then? There's plenty of xenos around these days."
"Less than there were at the start of the day."
"And thank the Emperor for that."
"Do you?"
"Thank the Emperor? Of course."
"And yet you were so eager to meet with a psyker."
"I was eager to figure out if she represented those assholes trying to skulk their way back into our territory while we're busy dealing with these monsters."
"Those assholes?"
"They claimed to just be another street gang, but no street gang has psykers in it. Don't know if they're actually heretics or not, so we just call 'em 'those assholes.'"
"But you chased them out."
The tattooed woman snorted and interjected. "Burnt 'em out more like. They may be all connected to the warp, but they burned just like anyone else when we doused their place in promethium and set it on fire."
Cain grinned, "Silly little psykers, imagining I didn't keep track of all my boys and girls and they could snatch one up and torture him to death without me finding out and getting payback."
"Well, interesting as that is, I'm not with the Ordo Hereticus, so it's not my problem. The genestealers are."
"Great! Glad to have someone else on the job."
"How bad is the infiltration?"
"Bad. First thing we tried to do was find someone to report it to since it's coming from outside our territory. We grabbed one of the arbites on a patrol, gassed his convoy. Tested him and his buddies. All contaminated. Had to put 'em down. Fortunately that was a long way from here, so the arbites wrath came down on another bunch of dickheads."
"Who-" she cut herself off before the question of 'who the dickheads were' could escape her mouth. That wasn't relevant. Besides she was sure Mott knew about an attack on a convoy containing an Arbite. "What do you know about them?"
"Generally, or their operations here?"
"Both."
He had a pretty good grasp of the basics, though he didn't know about the patriarch, or about their connection to the Hive Fleets. But the information he and his associates had about the infiltration within the hive was quite impressive. Especially as it encompassed infiltration of a large number of gangs' territory. Not just the three who staffed his club. A flicked over slate showed secure areas, confirmed visits, cleared nests, bases, operations.
Apparently they didn't bother trying to keep infiltrators alive to track anymore, as they'd realized the creatures were telepathic and so didn't have to make any traceable contacts. But it did include a complete list of the identified/assassinated and their best efforts to cross-reference where those people could have been infected, initial investigations into bloodlines, which had been inherited versus infected and what families had been purged entirely, versus which ones still had to be purged.
The information went back more than a year, starting when two of his own people had tried to walk him into an ambush by purestrains. He claimed it was luck that he'd survived, but no one got lucky against two hybrids and a purestrain. Especially as his gangers all rolled their eyes at his protestations. Well, whatever asset or protection he was hiding, she would surely figure it out in time, better not to pry for now. Especially as they clearly knew far more than she did at this moment. Indeed, the incident which had originally caught her informant's eye, the firebombing of a noble compound in the upper hive was, by this telling, one of his operations.
She leaned back on the couch. "Impressive. What are the bounds of your territory?"
He quirked a lip, then smiled. "All the gangs east of the Jezer Throughway have sworn their allegiance to me. From the level three above us, to two into the underhive."
That was damn near half the hive in width. Far less in height, but if he was telling the truth, this was the most powerful man in the hive, except perhaps the Imperial Governor of the hive.
"Hmm...I've tested the senior arbitrator and governor, as well as most of the governor's senior staff, they're uninfected," she let silence stretch for a moment, baiting a response.
He waited as well, smiling, but the tattooed ganger spoke up, "Don't have to be, either can be bought off easy. Probably don't want to risk it, they've probably got to go through all sorts of security shit."
"Indeed, which was how we confirmed their humanity. I'd like to take this to my savant and techpriest, so we can figure out a plan of action."
The gang leader smiled at her. "Why don't you call them in? We can all meet in the war room and plan our next steps?"
She considered his offer. One hand slid into her purse and the room began to tense, though Cain didn't show any signs of it, to anyone except her. They relaxed when a genecode reader came out and she flicked it across to him in a movement almost exactly mirroring his toss of the data slate to her. He smiled and casually pressed his thumb against it, which wasn't terribly smart, the things could be altered in any number of ways, from simple false positives, to poison injection, or explosives. But in this case, it simply flared green.
Amberley pointedly glanced around the table and after a moment, Cain sighed dramatically and passed it on. Five minutes later, they all gathered in the 'war room,' Mott and Yanbel included and began to plan their campaign.