Deal Gone Wrong Crane, his backup, sat at the edge of the lane and hid under several blankets - posing as a hab-less vagrant. He pulled the chain that held his other companion, Russ, his wolf-like dog. Crane had their only gun, but Kael had the early warning system with the nasty bite. Running water cascaded into the lane right next to him, rushing down from the rooftops of the mile-high buildings on each side. The water beat a haphazard rhythm as it hit the ground, and it splattered Kael occasionally. He was so drenched that he barely noticed. He looked down at Russ and whispered, ‘not long now.’ The dog cocked his ears and looked up in reply, then sniffed the air. Through the storm and curtain of rain, Kael heard a faint sound coming from the other end of the lane. Russ turned towards it, straining on his chain and growling with menace. Hopefully it was Droon, his buyer. Or, a whispering voice in his mind said, could it be something else? A rival gang, an enforcer, or even the fabled Inquisition, here to take the young mans’ soul for his heresies? He shook the weak thoughts from his mind – he was older now, meaner and wiser. He pushed the old, rookie feelings back into his memories, where they belonged. What would the gang-boss, Kruger, think? Moments later, as thunder once more roared from the heavens, a figure in a soaked overcoat emerged from the gloom. The figure was not as tall as Kael, and much thinner – where Kael was broad and lean, they were skeletal. The thin light finally showed their emancipated features, gaunt, worn and deathly white. The opposite of the young male before them. Kael had decided long ago that he would not turn out like the Deepers, he liked being fit, healthy and in control. Kael moved slowly out of the shadows and out of the cover of the building, the rain hitting him with more ferocity as he did so. The rain drops felt like small darts of ice as they hit his face. The man halted as soon as he saw Kael, and fumbled with something under his long coat. ‘Droon, is that you?’ asked Kael, ‘You have the Deep, boy?’ answered the figure in a rough voice. Kael hesitated. It was Droon, he had recognised his face and his voice, but he was acting differently from usual. ‘The Deep, boy!’ the man said. ‘Do you have it?’ ‘Droon, what’s going on?’ ‘Give me the Deep, then you have to come with me,’ he said. ‘I…I have someone you have to meet.’ He edged closer to Kael and his dog. Kael did not like the way Droon had hesitated. He tightened his grip on the chain holding Russ, who seemed to understand something was wrong also, and barked, pulling his master forward slightly. What would the other gangers do? What would Kruger do? he thought. He made his decision quickly, like he had been taught, and turned to call Crane. Crane was already on his feet, talking to what looked like a monk - he wore a long, dark habit with the hood up. He suddenly glanced at Kael just as the monk he was talking to attacked him. Kael felt the chain holding Russ pull violently, and slip from his grasp. He turned as his dog snarled and leapt towards Droon, who had moved closer to Kael while he was distracted, a gun in his hands. Both man and beast fell roughly to the sodden ground. In the faint light, Kael could see his faithful dog and Droon roll and slosh through the deep puddles that had formed in the lane. Russ growled with a wild menace his jaws snapping at Droon’s face, while the man swore colourfully and fired off a round from his gun. Kael burst into action mere seconds behind his protector, his instinct for survival overriding the fear and confusion that rippled through him moments earlier. It was always the same. There was always that trepidation before the fight. It helped hone the natural instincts, making them knife-sharp for the possible violence that generally promised to follow. The gun sounded once more and another thought burned through Kael’s mind, what if Russ is hit? Anger burned within suddenly, and the young ganger continued his charge towards the tumbling figures. As they rolled, Droon found some purchase and threw off the dog. Kael was on him in an instant, throwing punch after punch into his face. A malevolent voice whispered silkily in the young gangers mind: Russ has been hit and is going to die. Another shot was fired, but Kael did not care and continued his onslaught, beating his assailant into the muddy ground. Kael barely felt Droon hitting him back as they grappled; his only thoughts were on surviving the fight. They tumbled across the lane, the fighting desperate. Moments later, Droon stopped fighting back and Kael realised his enemy lay motionless in the dark pools of water. He stopped hitting him, and looked down at the body as he caught his breath. Then there was another flash of lightning in the sky, followed by the crack of thunder. But the thunder sounded different, closer and sharper. Like the sound of gunfire echoing in a lane. He turned from Droon and stood, looking for Crane. His fellow ganger lurched weakly towards him from the far end of the path, clutching his stomach. The monk-like figure seemed to be holding a handgun of sorts. ‘Kael,’ cried Crane. ‘Run!’ Gunfire ripped through the lane once more and Crane smacked off the wall, then collapsed lifelessly to the ground. Russ appeared next to Kael, barking and looking relatively unscathed. Kael suddenly thought of his aunt, crying over his dead body. He should run, escape this trap, and head back to Kruger’s hab, and tell him what had happened. The monk had began walking towards him, arm outstretched and weapon pointing at him. Kael suddenly saw Droon’s gun lying next to him. He ducked down and snatched it up, then opened fire on the person who had all-but-surely killed his friend. The shots were wild, but forced back the monk, who strangely did not shoot back. Instead, they ran back towards the street, looking for cover. Two more hooded figures appeared next to him, both holding weapons. Kael’s firearm clicked on empty. He threw it down the lane in frustration, and turned away from his assailants, and ran for his life, his dog following close behind. ^ The rain continued to fall, soaking the prone body of Droon in the lane, as thunder rumbled in the near distance. The three monks ran past Droon, intent on chasing down Kael. Another, however, materialized out of the shadows and ghosted swiftly over to the body, a knife in one hand, the other reaching for his neck. A pulse was found. He smoothly cut Droons’ throat with ease, the blood from the wound mixing freely with the rainwater. He stood and quickly followed his associates. ^ A figure dressed in long, elegant overcoat, nimbly landed in the flooding lane with barely a whisper of a sound. He held a smooth lined, long-rifle in one hand. Two others, similarly dressed and armed, followed it. One ran over to Crane’s slumped body, while the first bent over Droon and efficiently checked over his dead body. It spoke something in a musical and pure language to the others and vanished into the shadows as fast as it has arrived, following the path of the monks. The remaining cloaked figures followed it, and all three continued the hunt.
Kael charged through the busy street, pushing past all manner of people, amid shocked gasps and annoyed curses. Around the block, at the entrance to the lane where Crane had been shot, he heard screaming and panicked cries of alarm – even with the roiling storm above, passers-by would easily have been alerted by the sounds of gunfire. The panic was only starting to spread, and Kael hoped to be far away when it hit.
He ran into a lumbering tech-priest, tripping over his spider-like augmented limbs. He landed heavily, grazing his hands and knees as he rolled on the hard pavement. Russ barked and fussed around him as he righted himself. The tech-priest’s upper body swivelled around to face him, while a servitor numbly appeared behind its master, oblivious to the action going on in its lobotomised servitude. The twisted servitor repulsed him, as he looked over its wrinkled fleshy parts that were fused to metal instruments, their uses beyond Kael’s knowledge.
‘Watch where you run, boy!’ the tech-priest said in an emotionless, robotic parody of a voice. Like metal grinding metal, thought Kael. He ignored the tech-priest - he was part of the Imperium, one of the Mechanicum workers, an Upper and someone that was not part of Kael’s world. The idea of replacing your flesh with metal parts sickened him, and he turned away, unable to look at it. He stood and forced his way onwards through he crowd.
The streets of the Central City in Parthenon surrounded him. Over the sounds of the storm above, he heard the growl of motor engines drift over from the main roadways on either side of the city plaza he ran into. The plaza was full of life: he heard a preacher crying out a prayer to the Immortal Emperor of Mankind while the Upper city citizens filled the square like an army of ants, oblivious to his unrelenting sermon. A large vid-screen covered one side of an Administratum building, showing picts of Governor Gregorian as he inspected a new factorium.
The rain slowed, and threatened to stop, as he and Russ moved throughout the crowd. He looked over his shoulder every few seconds, hoping he had managed to escape his unknown attackers. Suddenly, he caught a glimpse of a hooded monk weaving artfully through the plaza, looking like a predator on the hunt. Kael turned and ran once more.
^
Rek Nayth ducked as scatter-shot from a shotgun impacted the wall and ceiling around him. Large sections of wall fell to the floor, and dust filled the air, making him cough. ‘Ghair, give it up! We have you cornered.’
There was a strained laugh from the hab-flat on the other side of the doorway Rek hid behind. ‘That’s not an option, is it?’
Probably not, thought Rek as he loaded another clip into his gun, an old Stub Revolver. But he really needed to take this man alive. ‘Of course it is – just put the damn shotgun down and we can talk.’
‘No!’ Another blast peppered around Rek, narrowly missing him. He looked across at his fellow team member, Seren, and said, ‘Some help?’
Seren wore her dark combat trousers well, and not even the long leather jacket and shoulder rig holding her weapon of choice, a long, deadly-looking sword, hid alluring body. Her fiery auburn hair hung in a long ponytail down her back, which accentuated her sharply defined cheekbones and dark brown eyes. ‘He’s loading, and will try to run into a backroom… on the right – there’s an emergency exit.’ An ice chill swept over Rek as she spoke – nothing to do with her voice, or looks, but from her powers. He had been warned it was weird, something he’d have to get used to.
Rek burst into the hab-flat and charged to his right, leaping over a bullet-riddled settee. Ghair was snapping shut his now fully loaded shotgun just as Rek reached him. ‘It’s over Ghair. Put the damn gun down!’ he said as he levelled his weapon.
Ghair was fast, and had brought his shotgun to bear also, and Rek found himself staring into the twin barrels. It would make a nasty hole in him at this range, he thought.
‘Ghair, we just need some information,’ Rek said as calmly as possible. Rek was a big man, and stood over the small ferret-looking man. Ghair’s shotgun looked clumsy and out of proportion in his small hands, while Rek’s revolver looked dangerous in his steady grip.
‘It’s not worth it,’ whispered Ghair. Then his head exploded.
Rek backed off quickly, firstly out of shock, and secondly to get out of the way of the shotgun. He turned to the doorway and saw Seren holding her bolt pistol in both hands. The powerful handgun’s barrel smoked slightly. Ghair’s body dropped to the floor, realising, finally, that it was dead.
‘What the…?’ said Rek, trying to brush off the splattered blood from his combat body-glove.
‘He was going to shoot,’ she answered simply, ‘I had too.’
Rek sighed, realising she was probably right. His instincts had told him as much, as too, her psyker powers had warned her. He had not known the woman long, but he’d realised there was not much point in challenging her on issues like this.
Seren lowered her gun and said, ‘What now?’
Rek moved away from the body and the pooling blood on the floor, looking out of the hab-flats flicker-glass window, it’s low energy field slightly distorting his view of the Central City of Parthenon. It was magnificent city to behold at that, he thought, but Parthenon also had a rotting core, he had discovered in his mission prep, a civilised world on the outside, but with a sinister centre. He hated this place, no matter how close it looked to his home-world.
He quickly shook such thoughts from his mind and concentrated on the job at hand. Time seemed to be running out, and he was no closer to finding the boy.
He looked out through the glass at the busy, over populated world before him, absentmindedly stroking his hand across his shaven skull. Parthenon was full of sky-reaching towers and suffocating city-walls. The spaceport had been impressive also, but all Rek had seen was the many opportunities an enemy had to lay an ambush within it. He shook his head, frustrated that he had so far not succeeded, and scratched his stubbly chin. There were so many roads, alleys and lanes for them to search, that it was a fool’s errand he had been paid for.
He turned back to Seren. ‘Well, all our leads have reached dead ends so far,’ Seren arched her eyebrows at dead. He continued, ‘looks like we have to rely on the xenos to find him.’
^
Kael turned off the main streets, leaving behind his enemies, the hundreds of city dwellers and the thick traffic, gingerly walking into a tight alley that led down a slippery set of stairs that in turn snaked further into the shadowy underbelly of the city. He hoped to lose his attackers in its sinuous maze-like streets.
As he moved further downwards, the light brightened slightly, outside street-orbs diffusing through the darkness and illuminating Kael’s world with a dim orange glow. The sounds of the night changed from the continuous booming of the city, and became more personal, closer. The stairs had opened into a curved, oppressive looking alleyway that housed a variety of establishments, from twist-dens to shoddy looking night cafes; he jogged passed a drinking-hole that emitted loud, raucous laughter and smelt of Iho smoke and alcohol. A grubby looking man lay on his back outside it, talking to himself. This was the Old Quarter, the festering netherworld of Parthenon, where the light of the Imperium felt millions of miles away.
Most Partheonites avoided the Old Quarter at all costs, deeming it too unsafe to travel or visit. For most, that was true. Not many outsiders would survive long here – and most didn’t. As the young ganger and his dog walked down the uneven street, it was noticeably quieter here compared to Upside, were the considerably more affluent of the Central City lived. The people here where markedly different also – alcohol lovers, stimm-junkies, dealers, gangers, cutthroats, twists, hunters, and at times, xenos scum. He always wondered at how the alien beings managed to find their way down into the Quarter. Maybe it was due to the fact that here was no real law here – only the gangs had real control. Enforcers or City defence forces only ever ventured into the Quarter was when they really had too.
The rain had thinned the streets, but it had not cleared the air of the smells: The heavy taste of alcohol and cooking meats filled the air, and it mingled ruggedly with the bitter swills of waste and torrid breaths of the sewers. Yet, the strong, sweet smell of perfume, a light reprieve from the dirty smells that seemed to permeate the undercity, occasionally interrupted the tastes and smells as he passed women of the night.
‘Kael! Kael!’ someone shouted suddenly, lifting Kael from his thoughts. The young man stopped and turned towards the noise, and through the hazy night air he saw Gia, another member of his gang. What now? He was still shaken from his flight, and didn’t want to hang around the streets for long. The monks where still looking for him, he was sure.
She jogged up to him, her jacket and trousers as dirty and worn as his, her face smudged with dirt and contorted in anguish. She had ordinary looks, and short dark brown hair, with striking blue eyes, bright stars that shone out from her grimy appearance. Russ moved towards her with agitation, his tail wagging uncertainly. As she closed, she knelt down and hugged the big dog.
‘Gia, what’s going on?’ he said. But before his question was answered, she pushed passed Russ and hugged him tightly. Kael didn’t know what to do, or say, so merely stood there, hesitantly hugging her back.
This was unusual for Gia. She was a strong girl, usually emotionless. ‘Gia, what’s happened?’
The girl, barely as old as he, looked up at him and he felt her tremble slightly in his arms. This close, he had a good look at the old scar crossing her right cheek, which he tried to ignore, and looked at her eyes. ‘I-I was jumped. It was guys dressed as monks – like the Seven Seers crowd.’
Surprised, Kael pulled away, and looked directly at her. ‘What?’
‘Two of them. They jumped us out of nowhere.’ She hesitated, before continuing, ‘Kael, Toner and Hike, they’re…dead.’
Kael didn’t have the heart to talk about Crane; there would be time later. Something bad was happening that night, and it seemed to centre on his gang. ‘How did you get away?’
Gia stepped back. ‘What, you don’t believe me?’
‘No-no,’ he said quickly. ‘I believe you, trust me. I just need to know if you were followed?’
‘I don’t know. I saw the others being attacked and I ran. I couldn’t help them…’
‘We have to get back to Kruger and the gang, right now,’ interrupted Kael. He turned swiftly, and pulled Gia along with him. He had been sure he saw several men in hooded habits in the distance streets heading towards them as they spoke.
The sooner they had back up from the gang proper, the better.