IC II: DH The Purity of Sacrifice

[Wyndeward]

Marcella

Arl would find Marc near the kitchen sink, cleaning her hands with soap beneath the running warm water. Nearby, one of the microwaves emitted the warm glow from within as it hummed in its process, a timer counting down upon its display.

Noticing the assassins arrival, Marc would turn her head across her shoulder and offer a bright smile in welcome.

"Oh - hey! Pretty fancy hab, huh? Settling in alright?"

Arl smiles in return and sets the gun case on the counter next to her, careful to keep it far enough away that it doesn't get wet.

"It certainly is a bit of a step up from our last bolt hole, although my room is large enough that you could fit a family in it, at least by the standards on Kesh. "

Arl indicates the gun case. "This is for you. She has served me well since I was taken in by the Inquisition. May she serve you as well as she did me."

[BananaPhone]

Marcella

"You haven't told me much about Kesh - I'd like to hear about if you want to share..." the Psykers voice trailed off as the box was edged forward, her eyes moving to it as it opened.

"By the Emperor!" she exclaimed, eyes wide, both hands clasping over her mouth as she stared in disbelief.

"Oh thank you so much - righteous!" Marcella beamed happily, reaching forth to receive the item. The weapon looked large in her smaller hands, but she demonstrated aptitude when she popped out the cylinder without having to be shown how and gave it a spin before snap-shutting it with a flick of her wrist before aiming down the sights. The dark, smooth exterior contrasted with her skin as she spun it around on one finger and pretended to holster it.

"That is so sweet! No one has ever given me anything before - thank you so much Arl!" Marcella beamed, standing up on her tippie toes to give the assassin a big hug in gratitude.

[rax]

While waiting for the move to the new safe house, Hound spent every spare minute ensconced in his quarters, studying the information the Drimmle had collected. When the word came that it was time to go, he gathered his few belongings, stuffed them in his backpack, and was soon ready to leave.

At the new compound, he quickly installs himself one of the smaller rooms and continues his investigation of the data-slate. He appears every so often to prepare a meal and get something to drink, but otherwise keeps to himself. Although he says nothing when he runs into one his teammates, it's clear that he's singularly unimpressed with the team's new, luxurious surroundings.

[Haval]

Orla will chuckle at the sight of Marcella's showing off as she enters the kitchen. 'Who taught you how to do that?' She'll commence opening cupboards and drawers as she searches for something that looks tasty or that she at least recognises.

[BananaPhone]

Marcella

Marc looked over at Orla as the Underhiver asked her question, that bright smile returning to the Psykers features.

"I did!" she said with a noticeable point of pride.

"When the instructors were teaching us basic self defence at the Cathedral, one of them would always twirl his pistol and I was envious; I wanted to be able to do that too. So, I practiced with my laspistol a lot, and now?"

Marc held the revolver up once again, dextrously strung her index finger through the trigger guard to form a small hook and spun it about before gripping and feint holstering it to where the receptacle would be on her thigh.

"Tada!"

[Wyndeward]

Marcella

"You haven't told me much about Kesh - I'd like to hear about if you want to share..." the Psykers voice trailed off as the box was edged forward, her eyes moving to it as it opened.

"By the Emperor!" she exclaimed, eyes wide, both hands clasping over her mouth as she stared in disbelief.

"Oh thank you so much - righteous!" Marcella beamed happily, reaching forth to receive the item. The weapon looked large in her smaller hands, but she demonstrated aptitude when she popped out the cylinder without having to be shown how and gave it a spin before snap-shutting it with a flick of her wrist before aiming down the sights. The dark, smooth exterior contrasted with her skin as she spun it around on one finger and pretended to holster it.

"That is so sweet! No one has ever given me anything before - thank you so much Arl!" Marcella beamed, standing up on her tippie toes to give the assassin a big hug in gratitude.

Arl smiled and gently hugged Marc back.

"You are most welcome! You have been a true ally and more than earned your place in our little cabal, not to mention making healing from my failure to duck easier, for which I must thank you... As for Kesh, it is not entirely unlike the Underhive, although the air is cleaner, the water purer and the food probably fights back less. There are tribes and clans, although we dwell in buildings and habs not unlike the ones down below... although ours are in a state of disrepair because we lost so much to the "Long Night" when we were out of the Emperor's sight. Unmarried men who had passed their initiation into adulthood and had yet to find a wife usually lived dormitory style, while those with a family lived with their family. It wasn't a bad life, but it was hard, although not as hard as the Underhive."

Arl paused for a moment and glanced around the kitchen, nodding an acknowledgement to Orla.

"At some point, I suspect we will earn our current state of luxury, although I suspect it will take something extraordinary for the Interrogator to agree with that... and, at some other point, I think we may need to sit our more... impulsive associates down and explain to them proper deportment... if only because I am tired of getting shot at."

Arl stops for a moment and looks thoughtfully at the two acolytes in the kitchen, as if weighing something in his mind, then nods slightly.

"I may need some assistance dealing with what I have found in the seedier quarters of this Hive. Apparently, not all the local Enforcers are wholly honest. We may have to track down and squeeze one or two to see what they know about moving goods for Durchesse and Casmirre. The name of one particular Enforcer has been coming up with annoying regularity. Also, I will likely need some unobtrusive backup when it comes to dealing with my informant -- I don't expect that paying him for when the Rogue Trader is arriving will be trouble, but I suspect that when the time comes to deliver, he may balk."

[Bennosuke]

It was times like this that Marcella wished she was scary looking. To be equipped with the type of icy, resting b!tchface that frightened off most people from approaching could come in handy about now! Instead she looked about as menacing as a golden retriever.

"Look, kid, I'm really not having a great day. It's just a rug, okay? I'm going to roll it out on my floor later and it's going to look fabulous. Is it money you want? Will some thrones get you off my back?" she asked, clearly losing her patience as she held the rug in one arm and moved her free gloved band towards a pocket.

The boy chuckles at Marcella, his cheeks flushing red as his thin lips twist in the most cocksure grin. "Oh ho," he says as his laughter trails off, "I don't know which is funnier, you trying to convince me that there's nothing in that rug, or you trying to buy me off." He takes a moment to smugly comb his hair back with a velvet gloved hand. He takes a step toward Marcella, placing both hands on his hips, and speaking loud enough so that now people are starting to watch, "Do you know who my father is? I have no need of money, and I doubt your hab costs as much as my weekly allowance."

He goes so far as to reach a hand out for the rug, in an attempt to peel back the rolled layers to reveal what is bundled up underneath.

************************************************** ****

Arl finds the Interrogator reviewing data slates in the compound's library, the night before they will be leaving for the upperhive. By now the room has been stripped of all its books, and all its bookshelves. The furniture too has been removed, leaving the room almost barren. Interrogator Ezekiel sits on the floor, his legs crossed under him, as he reviews a stack of data slates with total devotion of focus. It takes the Interrogator therefore nearly two minutes to realize he is being watched. He looks up from his current slate, his expression turning toward annoyance as he acknowledges the presence of the feral man from Kesh. "You've packed your room up already, right?" Ezekiel asks, his tone almost scolding, as he allows his gaze to return back to the data slate in his lap. Then with a sigh he will ask, "Is there something you wish to discuss?

[BananaPhone]

Marcella

The boy chuckles at Marcella, his cheeks flushing red as his thin lips twist in the most cocksure grin. "Oh ho," he says as his laughter trails off, "I don't know which is funnier, you trying to convince me that there's nothing in that rug, or you trying to buy me off." He takes a moment to smugly comb his hair back with a velvet gloved hand. He takes a step toward Marcella, placing both hands on his hips, and speaking loud enough so that now people are starting to watch, "Do you know who my father is? I have no need of money, and I doubt your hab costs as much as my weekly allowance."

He goes so far as to reach a hand out for the rug, in an attempt to peel back the rolled layers to reveal what is bundled up underneath.

Marcella's normally friendly face had taken on a darker scowl. Though difficult to be physically intimidating, her glare and gritted teeth were warnings enough to those who knew what she was capable of - and it took every mote of willpower she had not to force something truly punishing on the pampered brat before her.

Building a swift psychic connection between her own mind and that of the boy, Marcella drew upon the Warp and funneled it through that bridge to impart her will onto the ridiculous urchin.

"Walk home."

oOo

Arl smiled and gently hugged Marc back.

"You are most welcome! You have been a true ally and more than earned your place in our little cabal, not to mention making healing from my failure to duck easier, for which I must thank you... As for Kesh, it is not entirely unlike the Underhive, although the air is cleaner, the water purer and the food probably fights back less. There are tribes and clans, although we dwell in buildings and habs not unlike the ones down below... although ours are in a state of disrepair because we lost so much to the "Long Night" when we were out of the Emperor's sight. Unmarried men who had passed their initiation into adulthood and had yet to find a wife usually lived dormitory style, while those with a family lived with their family. It wasn't a bad life, but it was hard, although night as hard as the Underhive."

Arl paused for a moment and glanced around the kitchen, nodding an acknowledgement to Orla.

"At some point, I suspect we will earn our current state of luxury, although I suspect it will take something extraordinary for the Interrogator to agree with that... and, at some other point, I think we may need to sit our more... impulsive associates down and explain to them proper deportment... if only because I am tired of getting shot at."

Arl stops for a moment and looks thoughtfully at the two acolytes in the kitchen, as if weighing something in his mind, then nods slightly.

"I may need some assistance dealing with what I have found in the seedier quarters of this Hive. Apparently, not all the local Enforcers are wholly honest. We may have to track down and squeeze one or two to see what they know about moving goods for Durchesse and Casmirre. The name of one particular Enforcer has been coming up with annoying regularity. Also, I will likely need some unobtrusive backup when it comes to dealing with my informant -- I don't expect that paying him for when the Rogue Trader is arriving will be trouble, but I suspect that when the time comes to deliver, he may balk."

The Psyker looked genuinely happy and grateful, a blush crossing her features as she smiled and looked down slightly like a bashful child receiving approval from an authority figure.

"Thank you..." she said sincerely, her voice trailing off shyly as if she didn't know what else to add. But then came the description of Kesh, and Marc was listening to every word.

"Are there any records of this? I'd love to read more if possible."

However, talk of a potentially corrupt enforcer brought Marcella into a more composed station, her shoulders squaring as she listened with obvious concern.

"Do you think a quiet night-time visit and interrogation, see who he's dealing with? Or let him know he's been watched to scare him back in line?"

[Haval]

"Tada!"

Orla looks at Marc somewhat indulgently. 'Just remember not to do that when someone's shooting back.' She is attempting to make a sandwich with some filling that she doesn't recognise.

"At some point, I suspect we will earn our current state of luxury, although I suspect it will take something extraordinary for the Interrogator to agree with that... and, at some other point, I think we may need to sit our more... impulsive associates down and explain to them proper deportment... if only because I am tired of getting shot at."

'Just enjoy it while it lasts.' On not getting shot, 'I'd like to think it couldn't get any messier. Nothing personal, but if I end up in a gunfight I didn't want to be in in the first place I get tempted to just slip out the back and find a place to hide out until it's all over. I know there's stakes here and all but me taking a bullet isn't going to help much with that.'

On the Enforcer, 'It would be my pleasure to threaten an Enforcer with you all. Trouble would be getting them alone though. They know that people like me don't like them so they like to travel in packs.'

[BananaPhone]

Marcella

Orla looks at Marc somewhat indulgently. 'Just remember not to do that when someone's shooting back.' She is attempting to make a sandwich with some filling that she doesn't recognise.

'Just enjoy it while it lasts.' On not getting shot, 'I'd like to think it couldn't get any messier. Nothing personal, but if I end up in a gunfight I didn't want to be in in the first place I get tempted to just slip out the back and find a place to hide out until it's all over. I know there's stakes here and all but me taking a bullet isn't going to help much with that.'

Marcella smirked.

"That bastard shot me twice," she said quietly, the wounds on her chest long since healed up.

"I've never been shot before! It felt like a hot knife into my lungs. But I had to stay there or that bomb would've killed us all and attracted the arbiters. I really have to thank my dealer, that flak coat was worth every throne. He said he wants to fit the customer to the product because he wants repeat business, well, he's gunna get it, hehe," the Psyker giggled into her palm.

Marcella looked at Orla, clearly wanting to ask something but not knowing how to put it.

"Have you ever been shot before? What was the Underhive like to grow up in? Remember those three kids we interrogated? Did you live like that?"

[Wyndeward]

Arl finds the Interrogator reviewing data slates in the compound's library, the night before they will be leaving for the upperhive. By now the room has been stripped of all its books, and all its bookshelves. The furniture too has been removed, leaving the room almost barren. Interrogator Ezekiel sits on the floor, his legs crossed under him, as he reviews a stack of data slates with total devotion of focus. It takes the Interrogator therefore nearly two minutes to realize he is being watched. He looks up from his current slate, his expression turning toward annoyance as he acknowledges the presence of the feral man from Kesh. "You've packed your room up already, right?" Ezekiel asks, his tone almost scolding, as he allows his gaze to return back to the data slate in his lap. Then with a sigh he will ask, "Is there something you wish to discuss?

Arl looks not *quite* offended at the comment about his room but replies in a deceptively mild tone "My people are used to doing far more with far less, sir. As for wishing to discuss something, I have a need for some resources, the better to keep my informant in the game where the Rogue Trader is concerned, as he has indicated that the Rogue Trader is enroute. While I have enough in my personal funds to keep him on the line, I lack the wherewithal to make the final payment to get aboard the vessel. I believe that about fifty thrones, preferably in small denominations so as to maintain certain appearances, would address the need. Also, another investigation of the criminal fraternities of this hive may have borne some fruit. I applied my knowledge of hunting to the current case, trying to track how the Cold Trade artifacts get from the docks to the Underhive - just as deer follow game trails, the goods probably have regular routes. I have come to the conclusion that at least some of the local Enforcers are turning a blind eye to contraband, at a minimum. There is one officer in particular, an Officer Kant, whose name keeps being mentioned as being a facilitator of the movement of these goods. While I have nothing "hard" to hold over his head at the moment, his name comes up too often to be solely coincidence... I think that, properly cultivated, Officer Kant could willingly become a useful source of information... alternately, we could simply pluck him like a ploin fruit and squeeze him to see what juice comes out."

[Wyndeward]

The Psyker looked genuinely happy and grateful, a blush crossing her features as she smiled and looked down slightly like a bashful child receiving approval from an authority figure.

"Thank you..." she said sincerely, her voice trailing off shyly as if she didn't know what else to add. But then came the description of Kesh, and Marc was listening to every word.

"Are there any records of this? I'd love to read more if possible."

However, talk of a potentially corrupt enforcer brought Marcella into a more composed station, her shoulders squaring as she listened with obvious concern.

"Do you think a quiet night-time visit and interrogation, see who he's dealing with? Or let him know he's been watched to scare him back in line?"

"I don't know if there is much in the way of written records that would actually be interesting to read -- I mean, there is certainly the usual Administratum reports somewhere, but I didn't learn to read until I joined the Inquisition, which was far more interested in how well I could hunt than in recording the oral traditions of my people. As for our Enforcer, I think that I will bring this to the Interrogator's attention and see what he wishes done. While I certainly have some ideas, the Interrogator may have a better way to address this opportunity. While I would hesitate to tell the Interrogator what we should do, I think that Officer Kant should be cultivated as a resource while he is useful to our mission. Once he has demonstrated his usefulness, he should be maintained as a resource. Once he has served the Emperor, however..." Arl's voice trails off of a moment, then quickly picks back up. "He should not get a "pass" for his part in this heresy, but much as Ser Drimmle was useful, at least until he wasn't, I suspect that Officer Kant will have a variety of uses in our mission against Lord Durchesse."

[Haval]

"Have you ever been shot before? What was the Underhive like to grow up in? Remember those three kids we interrogated? Did you live like that?"

Orla doesn't mind mind being asked. 'Been winged a couple of times. And there was that time we robbed the back of Callahan's store and I took a bullet in the leg at fifty paces. Seemed like a hell of a shot at the time but now I think he was just lucky. Or the Emperor was trying to tell me something.' She doesn't sound particularly guilty about having admitted to committing a crime. 'Everyone says there are worse places to be shot so I reckon I did alright there.'

As for life in the Underhive, 'I was never that pathetic. I was in the orpanage until I was 12 or so. It wasn't a nice place to live but it was better then living on the streets. After that I had Raptore to look after me. Some of the girls had it a lot worse though from what I've heard.'

On Officer Kant, 'If you need him for something you could always threaten to tell his mates in the Enforcers if he doesn't do as he's told. Assuming they aren't all just as bad.'

[Bennosuke]

Marcella's normally friendly face had taken on a darker scowl. Though difficult to be physically intimidating, her glare and gritted teeth were warnings enough to those who knew what she was capable of - and it took every mote of willpower she had not to force something truly punishing on the pampered brat before her.

Building a swift psychic connection between her own mind and that of the boy, Marcella drew upon the Warp and funneled it through that bridge to impart her will onto the ridiculous urchin.

"Walk home."

The boy's eyes go wide for a moment, and he opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Then with a sudden scowl, he crosses his arms over his chest and says loudly, "What did you just say to me?" His voice reaches a girlish pitch, cracking at the end on "me". Now everyone on the street is paying attention to their exchange... even those that are pretending not to.

Down the block even, Marcella catches site of a local enforcer, wearing a protective helmet, and flak vest over his uniform. Hearing the exchange, he is now marching down the block towards them carrying a stub automatic in both arms to his chest.

"Nobody talks to ME like that," the boy shouts, his face now turning red all over.

************************************************** *************

As Arl speaks, the Interrogator slowly begins to look up from his work, giving the feral man his undivided attention, his expression turning from cold to one of interest. When he has heard all the information, Ezekiel sighs and then says, "Do we have reason to believe he is specifically running Lord Durchesse?" He clicks his teeth and sighs again. "I suppose a small degree of corruption within the local Enforcers is unavoidable," he says slowly, "but the question is just what goods is he running and to what end? I suppose I can pull Kant's file, but it's only going to be worth it if this is salient to our case." He studies Arl for a long moment, waiting to hear the man's thoughts.

************************************************** ****************

(OOC: As mentioned in the other thread, please keep the group RP scene up)

Later, Interrogator Ezekiel finally calls the acolytes together in a room he calls "his office". It's a spacious workspace, exotically furnished with paintings and painted vases in artistic styles from other worlds and Imperial Cultures. Book shelves line one wall of the space, covered in leather bound tomes and data slates alike. A large rectangular desk sits by an inert fireplace, where Ezekiel sits. There are no other chairs in the room, so the group is forced to stand around the man.

"I hope you have all gotten settled now," Ezekiel says, a rather smug grin on his face, "and are finding your new accommodations to your likings. He pauses, though not to await replies, rather it appears to build anticipation. Finally the Interrogator continues, "I have updated our lord, Inquisitor Zarkov on our progress so far. He is pleased to hear that we are zeroing in on Lord Durchesse, and I suspect we may find more resources at our disposal as this investigation continues." Ezekiel pauses again, allowing the group a moment to bask in the praise and good news, then his expression darkens. "However, as we proceed, we will need to do so with greater caution. Lord Durchesse and his allies are very very powerful, and so I MUST emphasize that subtlety and subterfuge are going to be our greatest armor going forward. You will certainly need to use more than you have so far. If Durchesse becomes wise to us, he will use all of his resources to impede us, and that may halt our progress in its tracks." The Interrogator's face screws up as if he had tasted a sour grape. "Scum like Durchesse will use their money and their power in the Imperium to protect their evil actions," he says coldly, "And if we don't have all the evidence we need if and when this happens, it could make even an Inquisitor's job far more difficult. We are a scalpel here, not a chain sword. Do you understand?"

[Wyndeward]

As Arl speaks, the Interrogator slowly begins to look up from his work, giving the feral man his undivided attention, his expression turning from cold to one of interest. When he has heard all the information, Ezekiel sighs and then says, "Do we have reason to believe he is specifically running Lord Durchesse?" He clicks his teeth and sighs again. "I suppose a small degree of corruption within the local Enforcers is unavoidable," he says slowly, "but the question is just what goods is he running and to what end? I suppose I can pull Kant's file, but it's only going to be worth it if this is salient to our case." He studies Arl for a long moment, waiting to hear the man's thoughts.

Arl clears his throat and then speaks.

"The information is not bulletproof, but the general consensus among my sources is that Kant is on Half-Face's payroll. Now, we know that Half-Face has been receiving money and heretical weapons from the upper hive. He was expecting Credit Guild officials when we accidentally were escorted to meet with his by some of his lesser flunkies. He went so far as to state that we weren't the Guilders he was expecting and had us escorted out. Now, the goods have to go from the docks to the Underhive. What better escort for contraband than an Enforcer squad? What other service could a mid-hive enforcer be providing to a underhive boss that would be worth paying him for? If we follow the flow of the xenos artifacts from the docks to the underhive and the flow of money from buyer to seller, we're likely to find out middlemen in the process. To catch big fish, you need to have little fish for bait.

************************************************** ****************

(OOC: As mentioned in the other thread, please keep the group RP scene up)

Later, Interrogator Ezekiel finally calls the acolytes together in a room he calls "his office". It's a spacious workspace, exotically furnished with paintings and painted vases in artistic styles from other worlds and Imperial Cultures. Book shelves line one wall of the space, covered in leather bound tomes and data slates alike. A large rectangular desk sits by an inert fireplace, where Ezekiel sits. There are no other chairs in the room, so the group is forced to stand around the man.

"I hope you have all gotten settled now," Ezekiel says, a rather smug grin on his face, "and are finding your new accommodations to your likings. He pauses, though not to await replies, rather it appears to build anticipation. Finally the Interrogator continues, "I have updated our lord, Inquisitor Zarkov on our progress so far. He is pleased to hear that we are zeroing in on Lord Durchesse, and I suspect we may find more resources at our disposal as this investigation continues." Ezekiel pauses again, allowing the group a moment to bask in the praise and good news, then his expression darkens. "However, as we proceed, we will need to do so with greater caution. Lord Durchesse and his allies are very very powerful, and so I MUST emphasize that subtlety and subterfuge are going to be our greatest armor going forward. You will certainly need to use more than you have so far. If Durchesse becomes wise to us, he will use all of his resources to impede us, and that may halt our progress in its tracks." The Interrogator's face screws up as if he had tasted a sour grape. "Scum like Durchesse will use their money and their power in the Imperium to protect their evil actions," he says coldly, "And if we don't have all the evidence we need if and when this happens, it could make even an Inquisitor's job far more difficult. We are a scalpel here, not a chain sword. Do you understand?"

Arl stands up straight in the fashion he learned in the Imperial Guard, in a sort of agressive parade rest. He kept his eyes focused on Ezekiel and listened to his speech, keeping his face impassive until the Interrogator finished his speech, then nodded curtly.

[Bennosuke]

Ezekiel raises an eyebrow at Arl and his assertions. "I thought the xenos goods were being picked up from the toxic wastes outside of the hive by the gangers, and then transported up to Upperhive by Drimmle's Credit Guild cronies. That was at least what your colleagues had asserted."

[BananaPhone]

Marcella

The boy's eyes go wide for a moment, and he opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Then with a sudden scowl, he crosses his arms over his chest and says loudly, "What did you just say to me?" His voice reaches a girlish pitch, cracking at the end on "me". Now everyone on the street is paying attention to their exchange... even those that are pretending not to.

Down the block even, Marcella catches site of a local enforcer, wearing a protective helmet, and flak vest over his uniform. Hearing the exchange, he is now marching down the block towards them carrying a stub automatic in both arms to his chest.

"Nobody talks to ME like that," the boy shouts, his face now turning red all over.

"I just did, you little fraking creep!" Marcella hissed, the stress and anger of the day bubbling up into a narrow-eyed sneer. The Psyker wanted badly, oh so badly, do draw her autopistol up to her hip and empty the magazine into the little bastards chest, sloppy red giblets volcanoing and all. How dare this punk prevent her from bringing this item back to its proper location? The journey of this ward through the seedy underworld, passing through so many hands that should be held liable for cold trade heresy, its return to justice in sight, only for this punk to get in the way with his powdered face and wig.

Collecting her mental power, Marcella forced it through the tunnel she'd formed with the boys mind; her will crushing down upon its synapses and blacking out his own personal agency to make way for the following, simple but extensive command:

"Now go home, you rude little boy!"

The light behind the cretins eyes abruptly dimmed as if his head had been emptied, his will scooped out, and in its place poured the desires of another. Blank of expression and silent in sound, the boys body took a step back, pivoted on the spot and moved around to go back the way Marcella had came.

And that's when she spotted the enforcer.

"Frak!" Marcella hissed under her breath, turning around immediately and regaining her locomotion. This time her shorter stature advantaged her retreat from notice, as she easily disappeared into the throngs of people around them. Still cradling that rug-wrapped Ward, Marcella kept her face down as she pushed her way through the crowds, her arms about her precious item as if she were holding close to her chest her own newborn.

This thing. This ward. Who knew where Drimmle had gotten it from, but his possession of it was testimony to an underworld trade in such items that the public should never have access to, Marcella was convinced of that. But as she shuffled through the crowds at the station, hoping her companions had not gone too far ahead of her, she tackled the very real and growing possibility that she wouldn't be able to bring it back with her to the Midhive.

I mean...a rug? Seriously? She couldn't have found a dufflebag or something? The ward bulged the scrolled-up carpet something shocking, and frankly it was a miracle that it was only that inquisitive little sh*t had so far noticed - and questioned her. Pursing her lips, exhaling, not wanting to do what she knew she had to do, Marcella sifted through the crowds of people as announcements echoed overhead about arriving and departing trains, one of which was hers. She knew she had to hurry. As the skyline of the Upper Spire was visible through railing and guest seating, Marcella moved to an observatory platform where guests could stand about, mill, talk, enjoy a drink and speak with their friends while waiting the arrival of their train. The area was cooler, owing to the elevation of the Upper Spire and exposure to the atmosphere within, as no one seemed to notice the short girl surreptitiously enter, head down, and make a beeline towards a corner railing. Drawing herself up to that ledge, Marcella felt a blast of cool air across her features that pushed her messy bob of blonde hair about, as she peered out at the forest of towers and buildings that stretched down into the fog of the lower levels, while their elevation climbed ever higher towards the only clean atmosphere left on the planet. Lines of traffic hung between the canyons of this steel-and-glass mountainous region, with enormous statues of Imperial heroes standing hundreds of meters high in undimmed glory in the midst of Upper Hive daily activity.

Laying the carpet horizontally on the railing before her, her body obscuring any other viewers, Marcella snuck a look over her shoulder to make sure the coast was clear, before she held the available two corners of the rug and pushed. The weight of the ward became even more apparent as it pressed against the carpet, now free from the Psykers protective grip, the hideous thing, an archaic dial tethered to a large gold chain, unfurled and tumbled out like some little metal monster finally born into the world, only to plummet and fall, down, down, down through the hundreds, thousands, of story's of Upper Spire towers to disappear out of view into the fog far, far below. Mathematics told her that it would reach peak velocity after seven floors, gathering enough momentum to combine with its weight to put a massive dint into whatever it hit - and shatter into into thousands of little pieces when it did os.

Inhaling, pursing her lips, uttering a soft curse on that wretched boy, Marcella turned around - only to meet the gaze of the enforcer from earlier.

"Is everything alright, miss?" half-accusation, half-suspicion.

Blinking once, twice, Marcella drew up both of her hands to reveal the exotic rug, now empty and hanging between her grip.

"Just airing out my carpet, officer."

An awkward pause.

"Pardon me, officer, but I have to make my train, I don't want to miss it..." she offered, rolling the carpet up with practiced skill as she moved to step past and aside the enforcer, to make her way to catch up with the others.

oOo

Orla doesn't mind mind being asked. 'Been winged a couple of times. And there was that time we robbed the back of Callahan's store and I took a bullet in the leg at fifty paces. Seemed like a hell of a shot at the time but now I think he was just lucky. Or the Emperor was trying to tell me something.' She doesn't sound particularly guilty about having admitted to committing a crime. 'Everyone says there are worse places to be shot so I reckon I did alright there.'

As for life in the Underhive, 'I was never that pathetic. I was in the orpanage until I was 12 or so. It wasn't a nice place to live but it was better then living on the streets. After that I had Raptore to look after me. Some of the girls had it a lot worse though from what I've heard.'

Marcella smirked.

"What did you steal? What was worth a bullet to the leg?"

Later, Interrogator Ezekiel finally calls the acolytes together in a room he calls "his office". It's a spacious workspace, exotically furnished with paintings and painted vases in artistic styles from other worlds and Imperial Cultures. Book shelves line one wall of the space, covered in leather bound tomes and data slates alike. A large rectangular desk sits by an inert fireplace, where Ezekiel sits. There are no other chairs in the room, so the group is forced to stand around the man.

"I hope you have all gotten settled now," Ezekiel says, a rather smug grin on his face, "and are finding your new accommodations to your likings. He pauses, though not to await replies, rather it appears to build anticipation. Finally the Interrogator continues, "I have updated our lord, Inquisitor Zarkov on our progress so far. He is pleased to hear that we are zeroing in on Lord Durchesse, and I suspect we may find more resources at our disposal as this investigation continues." Ezekiel pauses again, allowing the group a moment to bask in the praise and good news, then his expression darkens. "However, as we proceed, we will need to do so with greater caution. Lord Durchesse and his allies are very very powerful, and so I MUST emphasize that subtlety and subterfuge are going to be our greatest armor going forward. You will certainly need to use more than you have so far. If Durchesse becomes wise to us, he will use all of his resources to impede us, and that may halt our progress in its tracks." The Interrogator's face screws up as if he had tasted a sour grape. "Scum like Durchesse will use their money and their power in the Imperium to protect their evil actions," he says coldly, "And if we don't have all the evidence we need if and when this happens, it could make even an Inquisitor's job far more difficult. We are a scalpel here, not a chain sword. Do you understand?"

Marcella stood in silence. It had been a week or so since the incident at Drimmles, and the Psyker was looking forward to learning what Hound had uncovered from the documents they had acquired. Meanwhile, she had healed and cleaned up rather nicely; her black coveralls form-fitting, and punctuated by her belt, a holster on each of her thighs - one carrying the revolver Arl had gifted her and the other her new Armsman-10 semi-auto pistol - and the black, hard rubber soled boots she wore. The collar accentuated her trim neck, while her hair had been more neatly washed and combed. She looked much more presentable than the shot-up, exhausted girl that had stumbled home weeks ago.

Much like Arl, Marc was in a receptive pose, her hands behind her back, shoulders square. She wasn't petty or immature enough to sulk just because the Interrogator had been less than kind in weeks past.

For now, she remained quiet, saying only "yes Sir," with a terse nod.

[Wyndeward]

Ezekiel raises an eyebrow at Arl and his assertions. "I thought the xenos goods were being picked up from the toxic wastes outside of the hive by the gangers, and then transported up to Upperhive by Drimmle's Credit Guild cronies. That was at least what your colleagues had asserted."

Arl paused for a moment to consider his words carefully before he replied.

"Perhaps I have the flow backwards, sir. If the goods are coming in through the Underhive as we originally surmised, they have to be smuggled upwards and would necessitate Officer Kant's involvement all the more, since the Enforcers exist to keep the lower level of the Hive from coming upwards. Alternately, since the wasteland route has proved somewhat problematic, what with one of the smugglers losing both an expensive customized sidearm and the hand that was holding it, perhaps they have modified their smuggling routes to reduce the threat of injury to the ring's principal members. Either way, I believe that Officer Kant has been subverted by this Cold Trade cabal."

[Haval]

Marcella smirked.

"What did you steal? What was worth a bullet to the leg?"

'Chest freezer. A big one.' Orla grinned at her memory of the weight of it. 'It took two of us to carry it out of there. If you know the right people you can get a lot of thrones for the parts. And the food in there wasn't bad either. Didn't usually eat that well until I started coming up to the midhive.'

[Bennosuke]

Arl paused for a moment to consider his words carefully before he replied.

"Perhaps I have the flow backwards, sir. If the goods are coming in through the Underhive as we originally surmised, they have to be smuggled upwards and would necessitate Officer Kant's involvement all the more, since the Enforcers exist to keep the lower level of the Hive from coming upwards. Alternately, since the wasteland route has proved somewhat problematic, what with one of the smugglers losing both an expensive customized sidearm and the hand that was holding it, perhaps they have modified their smuggling routes to reduce the threat of injury to the ring's principal members. Either way, I believe that Officer Kant has been subverted by this Cold Trade cabal."

The Interrogator's face relaxes a little. He takes a deep breath in and sighs. He says almost softly, "Then I will have Officer Kant's file pulled, and you have my permission to investigate his dealings further. Though I must again emphasize the need for discretion in all things moving forward." His gaze shifts from Arl, to his dataslate, then back to Arl again. Another sigh, "Was there anything else you wished to discuss then?"


************************************************** **********

Pleased with response so far, Interrogator Ezekiel draws his attention to Arl and says, "And I've pulled the file of Officer Kant, as we discussed. Your work continues to impress." He pull a small dataslate from his desk, and offers it up to Arl.

[BananaPhone]

Marcella

'Chest freezer. A big one.' Orla grinned at her memory of the weight of it. 'It took two of us to carry it out of there. If you know the right people you can get a lot of thrones for the parts. And the food in there wasn't bad either. Didn't usually eat that well until I started coming up to the midhive.'

Marc's mouth was partially open in an amused 'No way!' expression.

"You got shot for a fridge?" she giggled gently, bringing one hand up to her mouth to cover it as she did so.

The Psyker looked at Arl, then at Orla. Holding a hand up, "you two had wild child-hoods, haha. Got shot for a fridge, and grew up around trees and rain," she laughed again, taking a sip of the coffee brew that had finally cooled enough to drink.

Marcella thought briefly, a question coming to mind, one she seemed cautious to answer.

"Was it ever, like...quiet where you grew up? Like complete silence?" she asked them both.

oOo

Pleased with response so far, Interrogator Ezekiel draws his attention to Arl and says, "And I've pulled the file of Officer Kant, as we discussed. Your work continues to impress." He pull a small dataslate from his desk, and offers it up to Arl.

Marcella wore a small smile as she side-ways glanced over at Arl during the Interrogators compliment. If she could have given him a little thumbs up, she would have. She would have to ask him how to do that old 'good ol' fashioned detective work' sometime.

"Sir, if I may?" Marcella's soft voice spoke up.

"Were there any leads ascertained or further illumination on the conspiracy granted by the documents Drimmle provided?"

[Haval]

Marc's mouth was partially open in an amused 'No way!' expression.

"You got shot for a fridge?" she giggled gently, bringing one hand up to her mouth to cover it as she did so.

The Psyker looked at Arl, then at Orla. Holding a hand up, "you two had wild child-hoods, haha. Got shot for a fridge, and grew up around trees and rain," she laughed again, taking a sip of the coffee brew that had finally cooled enough to drink.

'There are worse things to get shot for then a meal. And are you telling me you never took something that doesn't belong to you...when you were up there?' Orla only has a rough idea about what growing up on a space station might have been like.


--------------------------------------------------------

Orla will smirk at the comment about the accomodations. Oh yeah, if you could get me something bigger that would be grand. By her standards it was already virtually a palace.

To the comment about subtlety she'll nod. 'I'd like as few people as possible to know who I am. In an ideal world obviously.'

Spoiler: ooc

Show

I may have forgot to reply to the second part.

[BananaPhone]

Marcella

'There are worse things to get shot for then a meal. And are you telling me you never took something that doesn't belong to you...when you were up there?' Orla only has a rough idea about what growing up on a space station might have been like.

Marcella shook her head; a short little oscillation with an amused face as if the very thought was impossible.

"No, no no, you didn't want to be caught stealing, hehe. The Sevastopol is a Manufactoria; we built weapons and ordnance, mostly bolt shells for the Adeptus Astartes and Sororitas. Every gram of gunpowder. Every imported can of food. Everything is recorded, and on a space station you don't have many places to go, very few open spaces, mostly just large, long corridors. Bolt shells aren't that big, you can fit a few in your pocket easy enough, but each one is worth almost a months wages for the lowest worker if they tried smuggling them off the station, so security check points are everywhere. Every inch of space is utilised in some way, and everything you can't recycle needs to be imported, so everything on board is even more valuable. Get caught stealing, which is highly likely, and it's a hanging offence. Some of the other kids and I would play in the pipes, and we'd catch rats for the bounties..." Marc smiled, her eyes gazing off as if seeing her memories in real time, taking another sip of her coffee. "The quiet, open spaces you guys have down here is incredible. The first thing I noticed was the quiet. No hum of the ships engines deep in the craft keeping everything powdered, or the machines in the factories. No white noise; just silence."

[Haval]

'Sounds like a smaller Hive then. Maybe if you had to bring it down here and everyone had to fend for themselves. You only get hung if the wrong people catch you. There's not enough Enforcers to be everywhere at once.'

[BananaPhone]

Marc pursed her lips in thought. "Hmm, never thought of it like a mini-Hive before. Kinda: but I think I had the best view of all from the observation decks!" The Psyker beamed with her bright smile, "but...at least in the Hive, a crack in the wall doesn't turn into a hull-breach where we all get blown into space..."

"How come though, if you can regularly smuggle yourself into the Mid-Hive: why not do it for good? Sell some things, sneak into the Midhive and open a bar in a seedier area or something? You know..." Marc trailed off, blushing slightly, shyly biting her bottom lip, "...find some nice guy to settle with? Seems like an easy life to me...has to be better than living until you're 40 in the Underhive?"

[Bennosuke]

Marcella wore a small smile as she side-ways glanced over at Arl during the Interrogators compliment. If she could have given him a little thumbs up, she would have. She would have to ask him how to do that old 'good ol' fashioned detective work' sometime.

"Sir, if I may?" Marcella's soft voice spoke up.

"Were there any leads ascertained or further illumination on the conspiracy granted by the documents Drimmle provided?"

Marcella's question draws a wry smile across the Interrogator's face. "I was getting to that," he says with a chuckle, apparently in nearly the best humor the group has seen him in yet. After a quick nod, Ezekiel continues, "I don't know exactly what you asked of Ser Drimmle, but the documents include the official requests and reports of the back and forth trips made by a team of Credit Guilders down to the Underhive, performed on behalf of Lord Durchesse. There is proof of funding, and receipts of money transfers." He pauses, allowing this to sink in, and then continues further. "There is evidence that items were brought back up from the Underhive, though the documents are incredibly vague, likely by intention. They reference 'parcels', 'items of trade', and 'boxes' that were returned from the underhive as part of these dealings, with one event clearly being related to the most recent transport of the xenos artifacts, based on documented time, etcetera. Based on the amount of money Durchesse has been throwing around, we know that he is very, very wealthy, though we knew this before. There are also receipts and documents of trade relating to the Rogue Trader Cassmire, whose expeditions he has been funding."

Interrogator Ezekiel pauses again, long enough to take a big dramatic sigh before summarizing, "So in summary, you now have documented proof of activities you already knew were happening... in case you planned on taking this to the Arbites." His smirk returns as one eyebrow raises, though this time the expression is filled with a mocking sort of mirth.

[BananaPhone]

Marcella

Interrogator Ezekiel pauses again, long enough to take a big dramatic sigh before summarizing, "So in summary, you now have documented proof of activities you already knew were happening... in case you planned on taking this to the Arbites." His smirk returns as one eyebrow raises, though this time the expression is filled with a mocking sort of mirth.

Marcella had listened intently, eager to hear about any possible next leads, whether they be names or shell companies or players in the conspiracy they had not heard of yet. Instead it was as Izekiel said: documented proof of what they already knew. That was, assuming, that Izekiel was as thorough and imaginative as she trusted Hound would be. The Interrogators foppish mannerism and haughty demeanor did little to shore up Marcella's crumbling opinion of the man.

Nevertheless, the news made the Psyker smile and nod.

"As you said Sir, building a case against a noble of Durchess' calibre requires considerable evidence. It's not what you know, it's what you can prove, and this is a pillar in the case."

[Wyndeward]

Marcella




Marcella had listened intently, eager to hear about any possible next leads, whether they be names or shell companies or players in the conspiracy they had not heard of yet. Instead it was as Izekiel said: documented proof of what they already knew. That was, assuming, that Izekiel was as thorough and imaginative as she trusted Hound would be. The Interrogators foppish mannerism and haughty demeanor did little to shore up Marcella's crumbling opinion of the man.

Nevertheless, the news made the Psyker smile and nod.

"As you said Sir, building a case against a noble of Durchess' calibre requires considerable evidence. It's not what you know, it's what you can prove, and this is a pillar in the case."

Arl suppressed a smile at Marcella's riposte, reducing it to a brief facial tic, knowing that the Psyker's comment was both foolish and wise at the same time.

[Bennosuke]

Marcella's response causes the Interrogator to chuckle heartily. Recovering from his shock of humor, Ezekiel gives a shrug and says, "Our office does not HAVE to provide proof to anyone. If my Lord wished, he could summon hellfire on Durchesse right now. However, if we were to do so we would lose out on the guarantee of finding out to what end Durchesse is amassing xenos weapons, and whom he might be working with. This my child, is what we are working towards."

[BananaPhone]

Marcella

Marcella was sceptical of this explanation. If it was that easy then the Inquisition would've abducted Durchess in the night and interrogated him to the point of satisfying these questions. Heck, she herself was a proven Telepath now, so why not get her and Durchess alone in an interrogation room for an afternoon? Even if such a thing was unnecessary, Durchess and Drimmle were the head and finances of the operation, cut them out and the trafficking operation would wither on the vine with no demand and no funding, like a tree with no roots, surely?

Then a spike of doubt shot in - who was she kidding? She's in the Inquisition for half a year and she's suddenly Columbo? A few months ago she was a nerd in a tower playing with her chemistry set and moving coins with her mind, now she thinks she knows better than seasoned investigators? Girl come'on, let it go, you think the Inquisitor recruited for your winning personality? Because of your terrible guitar-playing abilities that sound like cats screwing? Your head is a portal to a realm of psychic maelstroms and demons, girl. He brought you on board to read minds, advise on warp stuff, brew some potions, heal some wounds and do the grisly side of Inquisitorial work no one else would, learn your place girl, you're no investigator, the self-critical thoughts rolled around in Marcellas head.

The psyker blinked, unaware that a few long, awkward silent moments had passed. Her large, brown eyes swiveling in her young face to and fro once before locking back onto the Interrogator, Marcella smiled and nodded in acknowledgement, "Understood, Sir."