Hell in Hive Primus

[Cashdash25]

Enforcer Captain Seth McCarsis awoke with a long moan, slowly sitting up from where he'd fallen asleep at his desk, rubbing the blurriness from his eyes he checked the chrono he kept on the desk, its softly glowing face read 0437. "Too fething early." He muttered. With a grunt he stood up, cracking his back as he did so. Muttering to himself he gathered up the paperwork he'd been using as a pillow and dropped it back into the "out" stack. He ran a hand through his short, rapidly graying hair and yawned. "Too fething early." He repeated to no one in particular.


Drowsy and sore he wandered through the "office" area of Underhive Frontier Precinct 001, which was less an Arbitrator Fortress and more a half collapsed manufactorum, or maybe ancient storage facility, he was a riot cop not an expert in millennia old architecture. In the soft light provided by a pair of lamps made by jury-rigging six flashlights together, one could just about navigate around the four desks that sat in the room, each decorated according to the whims and wants of its owner, his own was sparse: Two neat stacks of paperwork, a chrono, a half-empty bottle of probably poisonous alcohol brewed in what used to be a car's engine by an old man who probably pissed in the mash, an overfull ashtray, a cracked dataslate that didn't work half the time, four shot glasses so dirty the glass itself had stained a dark brown color and a broken in half aquila pendant.


With a yawn and a stretch he navigated his way through the darkness of their ramshackle headquarters with the aid of one of his many trusty flashlights, making his way past the "holding cells" and into the personnel quarters, which consisted mainly of 4 cots and a couple of storage trunks. "Rise and shine hive scum." He yelled as he threw open the door, slamming his fist over the button to switch on the overhead lights. The effect was completely ruined when the lights utterly failed to turn on, indicating one or more or their generators had run out of fuel, or possibly exploded, during the night.


"Throne damn it." He swore, "LT, drag the Rookie and the Scribe out of their bunks. I'm gonna go fix the damn generators again." Without waiting for a response he spun around and walked off, leaving his squad to rouse themselves. Muttering under his breath the whole way he walked to the storage area, which may or may not have formerly been a vehicle garage, hard to tell under the rust and makeshift support sections. Mostly empty shelving units lined the walls of the room, a few crates and boxes containing various bits of gear, cases of ammo, several bottles of questionable booze and enough lho-sticks to supply half a regiment of PDF troops. A trio of promethium burning generators sat in the middle of the room, wires snaking away and spreading like weeds through the building. The lack of proper infrastructure from the hive network necessitated some improvisation.


Sure enough, generator two wasn't running, its fuel tank empty. He sighed and grabbed a fuel can, emptying the thing into the generator's tank before spending probably more time and swearing necessary to persuade the pullstarter to actually start the bastard machine. Task completed he snatched a pack of lho-sticks off a shelf and exited the room, heading back out towards the exit to grab a, in his opinion, much deserved smoke break.


@admiral9 @Melissia @The Glass Ninja

 

[The Glass Ninja]

Navigating the dark bunkroom was almost second nature for Larkin Hale. The morning ritual comprised of rolling out of bed an hour before everyone else usually did and wandering off to find a shower - cold, since generator two was down almost all the time -, wandering back to bed with his scarred torso on full display and a towel wrapped around his waist, augmetic forearms complaining about being bathed in water rather than the oil they had been treated to before being welded into his nervous system. He'd sit for a few minutes, contemplating the aches and pains that plagued him and silently thanking his Emperor that he'd not lost his eyes. The arms were bad enough, he couldn't imagine the headache getting water in one of those complex implants would bring. Linked to the brain, just a few inches away...That line of thought was cut quickly, as was the usual way of dealing with musing about his augmetics. He was not as the Emperor had willed him to be, a pure human, but with the implants Larkin knew he could do far more good in the name of His Imperium than not. Even if it was stuck down there in the stinking trashpile of the underhive, always shat on from above. The luxury of the upper hive was almost a disgrace, while so many suffered and were wasted down in the underhive. Those men and women could be toiling in factories, or fighting the foul enemies of Man far from Necromunda and the bright Jewel of Terra. 

Well, that was certainly a new thought. The Lieutenant quietly blamed his injuries, and the woman who had brought him on that hunt for evil years ago. Sentiments that the status quo was wrong were...wrong. They undermined the framework of the Imperium and of humanity. It took effort to push such thoughts from his mind as chill air of the bunkroom settled across the mist of water still clinging to his shoulders, the brush of cold pulling his head back into the present. The rest of the mornings ritual passed in quick succession - five minutes to dry off what was left of the shower water, five to pull on the clothes he wore under his flak; the slightly stained enforcer's uniform and undershirt still smelling of amasec from a few days before. The bottle was still under his bed, along with the ragged pile of neatly filled out reports the Cap had insisted he'd have done for today, though as always Larkin had bluffed exactly how much flamer fuel he'd used in the latest raid. From the promethium tan he'd  been sporting afterwards, he knew the cap wouldn't believe the estimate of half a flask - but what was a loyal servant of the Emperor to do when burning down a lair of recidivists and anti-imperial propagandists? Just not destroy every inch of heretical claptrap they'd dared to scrawl in support of their rhetoric? A smile flashed across his face as he pulled his flack armour over his head. Somewhere in his head the fire was still burning, taking every one of those recidivist frak-heads to hell where they belonged. 

With his armour fastened around him and his weapons belt ready, he could turn his attention to something that had dominated his morning for the last four years. At least, when he was in the bunkroom and not a firefight or stuck in some alley hoping the medicae could patch him up after an injury the night before. The small shrine to the Emperor that Larkin had set up upon first being assigned his bunk was lit by a small lamp that was always on, a pair of jury-rigged lasgun powerpacks that wouldn't ever run out for such a small power draw had been liberally taped to the wall - the sign of the Aquilia carefully carved into the lascrete of the wall beneath them. Larkin rested upon his knees before the little alter, his morning prayers rising softly into the air around him as he held the small idol to the Emepror he'd carried since joining the PDF so long ago. It was the most expensive thing in the room, barring his flamer which leaned idly against his bedside cabinet - simply waiting to burn the enemies of Him on earth to ash. Thinking of the flamer, he pulled himself up from the floor and rooted down the side of the bed for his datapad - thumbing over the most recent message from Sola. There were a few requests from informants and friends cluttering the small slate's inbox. He flicked a few aside, and was about to open the latest letter that the lady inquisitor had sent his way when the captain burst through the bunkroom doors. 

Larkin was up almost immediately, his best parade ground voice ringing out through the room like a laudhailer - the Lieutenant knew just how that would ring in the ears of anyone who would hear it. "Up and at 'em boys and girls! We have enemies of His Imperial Justice to bring to bear today and I want you up and moving!". Privately, the veteran of the hives hoped that they were just enemies of his justice and not of the whole Imperium. You never knew what was lurking down in the underhive. 

 

[Melissia]

The scribe was, unsurprisingly, up fairly quickly, doing paperwork.   This was definitely a step down from where she was before, and she knew someone had it out for her.  It didn't take a genius-- and she certainly believed herself to be one-- to figure out who it was, though fool on them.  Here, surrounded by enforcers, she was probably far safer than she was in the lower hive, with angry businesspeople there still wanting revenge for her enforcing the tax laws to the letter, rather than accepting bribes to let them get away with less.


Thankfully, her dataslate's soft glow allowed her to work even in the dark, and in short order she submitted yesterday's reports on ammunition usage and the condition of the unit's stockpile, that she was fairly certain would be deleted.  And naturally, that's when the power turned on.  Without even looking up from her slate, as the unit captain walked in, she said "Good work." and stowed away her slate in order to get up and get breakfast.  The ration packs were something she was somewhat proud of-- she arranged for higher quality packs to be produced and distributed five years ago, and being a woman of little taste and even less desire for a hedonistic lifestyle, she found them quite satisfying.


How she did is anyone's guess.  Ration packs were by their very nature dull and uninteresting, but at least they were nutritious and would get a person from day to day.  Cooked in a soup in to a sort of curry texture with some spices, they might even be remotely palatable, but she seemed to enjoy just eating them straight.  It was one of the bizarre quirks about the woman that often put others off about her, and one which she seemed confused that anyone would be bothered about to begin with.


With basic preparations for the day done for, she grabbed a few power cells, a couple of flashbangs, and noted their use and any missing ammunition and equipment from the stock as being used on this mission on her slate for next weeks' submission.  As they assembled before the captain after his smoke break, she mentioned, to no one in particular:  "You really should report ammunition requisitions to me.  Someday, someone might actually read my reports and take them seriously."  It was hard to tell if she was being serious or sarcastic-- it often was.

 

[admiral9]

Light... fluttering away into the sky, this had to be a very nice dream Leon thought. That was until he made a hard and fast connection with the lascrete floor and nearly emptied his bowels. "Wake up time rookie, gather up." Lt scraphead grumbled.


Slowly gathering himself up Leon stumbled over to his locker dragging out his uniform and a package of recaf that he opened on top of a ration bar, after ingesting his very nutritious meal of recaf grounds and uncooked rations and managing to not immediately throw up the energy kick finally woke him up, now actually awake he gathered up his weapons, and entered the area that was supposed to represent the office.


A pile of unfinished office work cluttered his desk, request forms for ammunition, days of leave, patrol reports, he still hadn't actually bothered finishing his transfer forms, a small handful of finished forms that he scavenged out of the dirty pile of paper and junk was gathered and turned in at the captains desk.


Opening his datapad he saw a message from his brother asking for when they could meet, they hadn't spoken ever since he went to the underhive now that he thought about it but it didn't look like it could happen any time soon either, a true shame.
There were a couple of requests directed towards his business end but those could be handled during patrols, and a death threat here and there, par for the course considering his line of work both legally and illegally.


Fishing a lho stick out of his pocket he joined the captain, "Nice day ain't it cap'n?" trying to come over awake and reliable he walked on over while lighting his addictive aid, reliable being another word for nearly breaking the door handle and accidentally shattering a shot glass, small things.


Positioning himself closer to the captain then the augs he waited for the daily briefing to commence, in the meanwhile of course already being on his second stick.

 

[The Glass Ninja]

Larkin smiled in satisfaction as his squad mates picked themselves up from their lousy beds. Though it turned into a grimace as he heard the rook choking down a ghastly concoction of uncooked trash he called a meal. The office was in its usual state of disarray when he entered, boots clacking their way to the comfy if well worn chair that had held his arse since he'd gotten there. The collection of grey synth leather, padding that kept trying to escape and a metal frame sagged beneath his weight as he threw himself down in front of the plain metal of his desk - though his was the largest in the room. He'd found a second one in storage, and set it up next to his own so that he had his own L shaped sanctuary for work and projects to do on the job. Half was dedicated to paperwork and a very old cogitator in the corner, neat stacks of forms sitting in trays that looked like they'd once belonged to ration packs glared up at him stark and white. God Emperor, he hated paperwork more than he could ever admit, at least without the Captain throwing a fit. An upturned amasec tumbler acted as a paperweight, and he smiled. Last week he'd toasted with the  Captain for his fourth anniversary in this shitehole of a precinct, with some decent example of the distillers art; it'd cost a lot to get down here, and he'd saved it for special occasions. 

He turned back to the more interesting part of his workstation, the one that wasn't for official use; three disassembled autopistols, confiscated from some obscura smoking hivescum who had been hanging too close to the precinct, were laid out beside a few bottles of cleaning fluid on the side desk alongside a few brushes and other cleaning equipment. Neat rows of ammunition lined the edge where he'd placed them - all cheap, poorly made rounds that'd jam the gun after a few cycles but he could maybe sell them for a throne or two. The weapons themselves weren't so bad, they just needed a little love and consecration. A bottle of blessed ungent he'd swiped from a tech priest was in his hands as he leaned over to tinker with the last of them, muttering prayers of accuracy and reliability to Emperor; both the fleshy one, and the clockwork one. In short order he had three gleaming autopistols on the table in front of him, each with a newly stencilled Aqulia and Enforcer badge on the grip. Gathering them up, he set off for the store-room. 

The armoury was a block of plassteel stuck amidst a raggedy collection of boxes and crates. The Cap's ever present supply of Lho sticks formed a makeshift cover for the gene coded locker - the LT's thumb print misting the reader for a moment as the armoured front sprung open, revealing racks for weapons - three neat holster slots filled by the autopistols. He'd been steadily filling it up with confiscated weapons for 'emergencies' and had made sure that the Adminadstratum scribe they'd been shackled with didn't get her grubby mitts on the new additions - the lack of serial numbers would drive her mad. For that matter, he kept the lock uncoded for the rookie too. Sure, Larkin liked the scribe well enough - she did her job properly and didn't frak about - but the rookie was less certain. The twitch of a sneer on his face whenever he saw Lark's augmetics put the big officer on edge, and trusting him was hard enough with his upper hive background. Everyone he'd met from there had tried to screw him over in one way or another, and the rookie was subject to the same precedent. Shaking his head as he slotted the guns in, he inspected the rest of the weapons inside; a few rifles,  a variety of rarer grenades, and his standard issue shock maul. There was also his lasgun, which he grabbed by the well worn barrel and pulled towards him, the hooks holding it releasing it into his loving grasp. Muttering a prayer of activation, he ran through his standard checks. The projector was clean, the powerpack full, and the strap wasn't fraying again. Patting the aquilia painted over his chest for luck, Larkin decided to start the day properly. 

Almost marching through the entrance of the precinct, revolver on his hip and lasgun slung over his well armoured shoulder, he passed the captain and rookie with their morning lho. "Heading out for something to eat boss, I'll swing by the church and see if Emile has anything for us. Otherwise, catch ya on the comm if you need me." Lazily saluting as he made his way past the two, the enforcer double checked the armoured door behind him, before glancing up and down the street. Lit by weak lumen-strips built into the sides of buildings reaching to the ceiling above, he took a left. Hunger started to gnaw at his insides, and a grox burger would help put it down - the big LT stripes on his shoulderpads generally got him through the morning breakfast rush pretty quick. The enforcer badge welded to his armour worked, if that didn't. People bustled by in small groups, their faces covered in anticipation for the day - most of them were factory workers or craftsmen off to their Emperor-given employment. A ganger or two melted back into the alleyways as they saw the Enforcer ambling his way down the road, armed they probably thought, to the teeth. The Lieutenant recognised one or two of them, he'd have to check up on them later. 

Even with the need to get to their work quickly, the shoal of men and women parted around him like fish do a shark. Larkin enjoyed the small circle of solitude, his authority projecting quite literally around him. Most of the people here were good, emperor fearing citizens of the Emperor with nothing to fear but he could respect their healthy caution. Arbitrators of His Justice could be intimidating to the best of people. Of course, that only drew his attention more so to the other sharks in the stream - sometimes a ganger of note, sometimes a butcher who smelled of blood - but today it was a man clad in scrubby red robes and with a waving mechandendrite, nearly reeking of nerves with a servo skull hovering by his shoulder. Diverting his way across the street towards the other bubble of space, the enforcer raised an eyebrow beneath his helmet as he emerged into the Tech Priest's space . "Hey, cogboy, you alright?" 

@Mechanized Haggis

 

[Mechanized Haggis]

The Enginseer looked up from the ferrocrete floor, tapping his mechandendrite twice and muttering a small ritual for it to stop waving about around. Hypatia nodded in the Enforcer's direction. Asteri shifted his position in order to face the man, nodding his head politely before looking up, bearing an aged face that could've looked like it belonged to a man in his fifties, sporting a beard that was rather poorly maintained, cheeks sunken with the face hung in an overall dejected look. He was met with someone who clearly understood the benefits of cybernetic augmentation, the Enginseer who performed the job had honestly done quite good by the Enforcer. It was good to see your average Imperial beginning to commune with the Omnissiah, the Emperor in such an expressive manner. His eyes met the Enforcer's, within them it was very clear that Asteri was at least troubled, at worst psychologically damaged. Nevertheless, with Hypatia's guidance on the way there, he had planned for this meeting. Knowing exactly what to say. The mind is a cogitator after all, one adept at remembering things.


"Good day, officer. I have some gang trouble that may be of interest to you as well as the area at large. If possible, I would like to speak directly to your superior." Asteri spoke in a fluent, somewhat rehearsed manner. Hypatia bobbed up as well as down, signifying a nod for a job well done. She knew Asteri hadn't the faintest idea to do when interacting with people, so pulled a few elecution lessons he had programmed into her cogitator back on Opus to the forefront of her mind then regurgitated it in the correct terminology for Asteri to interpret it.


"If it's not too much trouble, of course." Asteri added hastily, clearly making an effort to be tactful, as if quite unnerved. He hoped this Officer would heed his words. Makkir would be looking for the parts soon. Asteri would hate to disappoint him with something sub par, knowing Makkir's preference for dramatic flare. He hoped that a siege by the Arbites would be flare enough to run him out or run him down.

 

[The Glass Ninja]

The strange enginseer only got stranger once he opened his mouth, the awkward rehearsed cant that carried his speech flowing strangely over the ears of the Enforcer. Larkin decided that he'd been right about the robed man - he was nervous, and like so many of his brothers interacting with normal people must've been extremely difficult for him...or he was just socially awkward. Still standing amidst the flow of foot traffic towards the factories, they made a strange pair; the assured confidence of the man in armour clashing with the nervous demeanour of the cogboy. Larkin particularly found himself staring at the eyes of the techpriest - those weren't the eyes of a normal man. He'd seen them too many times in the faces of madmen in the cells and murderers before he'd gunned them down. "I'm a Lieutenant of the Enforcers, anything you wanna say to my captain you can say to me here." Reaching across his chest with his left hand, he taped the stripes on his pauldron while his right surreptitiously slipped down to his belt to close around the loop nearest to his revolver's holster. "But I suppose discussing gang business out in the street ain't the best idea. After you." Jerking his head off towards the precinct, he stepped aside - waiting for the smaller man to take the lead. The mechandendrite was bad enough, but the idea of the servoskull floating around behind his head gave Larkin the shivers. 

 

[Cashdash25]

"Yep, another glorious day in fucking paradise Rookie." Seth replied as Leon joined him on his smoke. The pair then proceeded to say nothing as they continued smoking, the rookie having learned early on that the Captain does not appreciate conversations on his smoke breaks. Just as he was about to toss his third stub of the day the LT walked out and departed, someone watching the Enforcer Captain closely might have noticed the middle-aged man twitch ever so slightly...


As it was he flicked the butt of his lho-stick away and spun on his heel, tromping through the base marginally louder than normal as he strode to his desk taking a swig of drink just in time to hear their adept attache's request, he nearly choked on the booze. As it was he merely had to spend several seconds fighting down a coughing fit before he was able to swallow, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before looking over at her. "Sorry Ms Perenaius, I like actually getting resupplied upon occasion." 

 

[Mechanized Haggis]

The strange enginseer only got stranger once he opened his mouth, the awkward rehearsed cant that carried his speech flowing strangely over the ears of the Enforcer. Larkin decided that he'd been right about the robed man - he was nervous, and like so many of his brothers interacting with normal people must've been extremely difficult for him...or he was just socially awkward. Still standing amidst the flow of foot traffic towards the factories, they made a strange pair; the assured confidence of the man in armour clashing with the nervous demeanour of the cogboy. Larkin particularly found himself staring at the eyes of the techpriest - those weren't the eyes of a normal man. He'd seen them too many times in the faces of madmen in the cells and murderers before he'd gunned them down. "I'm a Lieutenant of the Enforcers, anything you wanna say to my captain you can say to me here." Reaching across his chest with his left hand, he taped the stripes on his pauldron while his right surreptitiously slipped down to his belt to close around the loop nearest to his revolver's holster. "But I suppose discussing gang business out in the street ain't the best idea. After you." Jerking his head off towards the precinct, he stepped aside - waiting for the smaller man to take the lead. The mechandendrite was bad enough, but the idea of the servoskull floating around behind his head gave Larkin the shivers. 

"My thanks officer." Asteri spoke in a slightly more natural manner, as if slightly more at ease. He then began to move in a rather pronounced limp towards the general direction of the precinct, hunched over to afford himself a bit more privacy as well as to not inconvenience the Lieutenant. He seemed like a good man, his augmentics rendered him much more trustworthy than the general populace of this degenrated cesspool of the hive world. It felt to Asteri like quite a poor idea to do anything other than act as polite as possible. He'd seen what happened to someone if they got on the wrong side of the Arbites, he didn't relish becoming a mere statistic on a foreign cogitator. He refrained from asking many questions, instead contenting himself to talking with Hypatia in the Cant Mechanicus, who was gently bobbing up and down beside Enginseer, replying in kind to his remarks.


"It appears we've started on the right path, this Arbites officer appears to venerate the Omnissiah in his own way." Asteri spoke mirthfully in Lingua Technis.


"Quite surprising indeed, considering most humans down here only speak of the Emperor, that's theology for you I suppose." Hypatia responded conversationally.


"It is quite interesting to look into the theology of your average citizen, although the last time I approached an Ecclesiarch to ask him some questions, I was bellowed at for a quarter of an hour about being a denier of the true form of the Emperor, who we know as the Omnissiah. It was amusing to watch his cogitator malfunction as I tried to explain it to him, he was almost frothing at the mouth before his companions hauled him inside." Asteri recounted, laughing as he did so, with Hypatia doing so in kind. They soon reached the precinct building, Asteri had his mechadendrite knock on the door twice as he turned up to the Lieutenant tentatively.


"Apologies if you were unnerved by our conversation. Cant Mechanicus tends to get us odd looks in the street." He stated quietly, as if somewhat afraid of doing so as not to incur the Lieutenant's wrath.


"Human cogitators are so difficult to understand." He muttered to Hypatia in Hexamathic Code.

 

[Melissia]

"Sorry Ms Perenaius, I like actually getting resupplied upon occasion." 

"So would I, but we'll have to make due until I can pull some favors, which will take a week or two.  But keep me alive long enough, and I will do what I can."  She seemed to take the sarcastic comment quite literally.  "Better arms and armor are needed in the underhive than what we were able to... requisition."  Being polite about the scavenging, she shrugs.  "Even still, documentation is important, and showing an accurate recording of the destitution of our supplies would go a long way to convince friends in higher places that we are in need of better equipment."  

 

[Cashdash25]

"Well, it's more paperwork." The Captain mused, "Can never have too much." He straightened up and turned around to face her properly, "Alright, fine." He adopted his formal speaking voice, "All forms on usage of ammunition and equipment must be submitted in writing to both Captain McCarsis and Adept Perenaius on orders of Captain Seth McCarsis of His Most Holy's Necromunda Planetary Enforcers, Hive Primus, Underhive Frontier Precinct Zero Zero One. May our resolute and dutiful filing of this paperwork protect us in our endeavors to bring law and order to the citizens of our Precinct, God Emperor be praised."


It would have been enough to make anyone burst out laughing, except he was completely serious and everyone listening knew it.

 

[Melissia]

And the Adept smiled, and did so quite honestly.  In her mind, the blood of the Imperium flowed based on three things-- tithes of Imperial Guardsmen, shipments of food, and massive amounts of paperwork.  It always felt good to give the Imperium more blood in its aging veins through proper paperwork.  After all, if the paperwork was faulty, then even if the other elements were right, there'd be confusion all around.


And confusion was the bed of Chaos.  And nobody wanted that.  Or at least, the people that did would get a lasbolt to the brains and that was that.

 

[admiral9]

Puffing along as they often did in the mornings Leon assumed the captain appreciated a smoking buddy, if it was the case though he hadn't figured out yet, he wasn't exactly the most emotionally expressive person, following the captain inside after the Lt thankfully left it seemed he made a deal with the adept, he knew all this would mean was more paperwork... and he wasn't wrong.


"You want me to turn in more useless scraps no one will ever read just to please the arch scrapper? I'd rather choke down whatever passes for meat down here." Leon spat, he knew that going against the captain was not exactly the most intelligent action but it went against his own pride to do anything for hanzers if he could avoid it. Thinking back on the message he had received a plan concocted itself in his mind, genius that he was. "i'll get us some guns and ammo, give me three weeks and i'll have us more supplied then this creature ever could, and it'll be higher quality too." Now presenting the captain with an either or case it was finally time to show he was more then some random rookie, his name should have been known in these places already if it hadn't been for damn hanzers...

 

[Cashdash25]

The Captain visibly twitched, his face contorting in a mixture of disbelief, disgust and anger, his hand grasping at the empty air next to his hip, which coincidentally is exactly where his shock maul would have been had he been wearing it. Before he could verbally and/or physically assault the Rookie for his moronic insulting of the paperwork that kept them alive and resupplied however, one of the flashlights wired to a set of motion detectors that served as a crude early perimeter alarm started flashing and the dataslate on his desk beeped. "Someone's at the door." He muttered, shoving past the Rookie and heading back out front, grinding his teeth with every step. Taking a breath as he arrived at the door he put on his "bringer of the Emperor's justice and terror of criminal scum" facade and yanked open the vision slit in the door. "State your names, numbers and reason for visit." He growled, his voice dripping with exaggerated ferocity and gruffness.

 

[Mechanized Haggis]

The Enginseer saw such hostility as unprecidented, he backed away from the door slightly before responding. "Asteri Lambda, Freelance Enginseer. Here to discuss a rising gang in a nearby area of the Underhive that may become a threat to your local precinct." The Enginseer spoke in a slightly muted tone, wondering what he had done to cause hostility in the captain. He was having second thoughts about this plan, the Arbites seemed about, if slightly less amicable than Makkir's gang. He looked to Hypatia worriedly, she fluttered around on the vertical plain, the closest she could come to rolling her eyes, Asteri shook his head, muttering something under his breath in Lingua Technis along the lines of "Omnissiah take you into the pits of tartarus and have you cast into a fleshy form for you to live out the rest of your days, you miserable piece of floating matter." The response of which was Hypatia tilting herself back and forth several times to indicate laughter. Asteri rolled his eyes, concentrating on waiting for the Arbites' response.

 

[Cashdash25]

"Enginseer eh?" Seth mused, the man before him certainly looked like a cogboy who'd been in the Underhive for awhile. "Alright, one sec Mr. Lambda." He shut the vision slit and wrenched the door locks open, swinging the door inwards. "Apologies for the gruffness, never know when some ganger's gonna try shoving a pipebomb in your face." He shrugged, "Can't be too careful." He then noticed Lieutenant Hale stifling a laugh a few feet back and smiled, it was like a predator's smile, all teeth no mirth. "Ahhh, Lieutenant, didn't see you there. Do me a favor while I take Mr. Lambda's statement and show Officer Schwarz the training manuals on the importance of paperwork and respectful conduct will you?" His face returned to its usual grim expression as he turned around, "Follow me please, Mr. Lambda."


He led the techpriest and the servoskull floating behind him through the ramshackle building, leading him into the office area. "Ms Perenaius, a Witness Statement Form please." He said as he walked in, grabbing the only spare chair in the room and setting it in front of his desk before taking a seat behind it.

 

[Mechanized Haggis]

Lambda nodded amicably, following as well as observing the building that seemed to be coddled together from spit, string and broken ferrocrete.


"If you require my services in fixing up this place after we're done, I would be much obliged to." The Enginseer said slightly timidly, letting the comment hang in the air for a second before coughing and moving on with what he was really here for.


"I've been working for numerous gangs in the Underhive to pay the bills; they've never been doing anything outright offensive until now. Just petty extortion from those who could barely afford to pay it. Makkir, the leader of this gang has recently acquired a Heavy Stubber, such a weapon has been proven to hold the Omnissiah's guardsmen down in fixed positions. To imagine what they would force the poor machine spirit trapped in the weapon of war abhors me, not to mention the civilian deaths such a gang war could cause." Lambda shuddered slightly as he mentioned specific parts of this quite obviously rehearsed dialogue, namely anything to do with violence. Hypatia bobbed up in down in an understanding manner as he did so. The Enginseer stroked his beard for a second as he looked the enforcer in the eye, awaiting a response.

 

[The Glass Ninja]

Following along behind  the weirdo enginseer, his shoulders shaking very gently at the captain's expense, the LT's smile matched that of his commanding officer. "Rookie, come with me!" The parade ground snap was back into his voice, the relish underpinning the command almost vicious. He'd not have to do anything himself - the Rookie was a trained Enforcer. If he couldn't read a manual on his own then there was no point in him still breathing down here in the lower hives, God-Emperor forgive the though of the underhives. Taking the younger enforcer by the shoulder, his bionic hand clenching over the pad of his armour, Larkin almost dragged him towards his desk. "Take a seat, I'll get you your manuals. And you are going to be busy my boy." Chuckling deep in his chest, the LT crouched beneath his own desk and pulled out a tray full of paper pamphlets and data pads. "Lets see..." Rooting through the pile soon had a small collection on the desk beside the rest. "This here is the proper conduct manual 3432 edition-A through-Y. And here's the paperwork manual that the Cap had brought in especially." The words stamped on the Imperial printing paper, and glaring up from the datapads, were already boring. The typesetting was the blockiest, squarest collection of symbols the adminadstratum could think up. "Read them all, get me a four page report on what you learn. I need to make sure my guns are working." Dropping the pile heavily on the Rookie's desk, the LT cleaned off his own and slumped down into his chair - only to realise he hadn't had breakfast.  

 

[Melissia]

OOC: sorry for delays in response, I have been busy.




The conversation with the enginseer piqued her interest-- she could be helpful.  And in spite of the reputation of the Administratum as a whole, most of them actually rather liked being helpful.  This scribe was no different.  "Captain, if you want to do a mission to liberate the poor machine spirit from its ganger-scum captors, I'll file the paperwork for parts, unguents, and ammunition for it before we leave."  She seemed ecstatic at the idea, strangely enough.  "Should be fairly simple to procure, once we... requisition the heavy stubber from the gangers.  It's much easier to get support materials for weapons, than it is to get a brand new weapon itself."

 

[Cashdash25]

The Captain meanwhile, was busily picking his jaw up from where it had fallen at the mention of some Ganger scum armed with heavy support weaponry. After several seconds of staring in blank-faced disbelief at the Enginseer he slowly closed his jaw and reached for the bottle on the desk, thought better of it, and settled for picking up one of the less burned up lho-stubs in the ashtray, lighting it in blatant violation of his own "No smoking in the building" rule and proceeding to take several deep breaths from the drug laced wad of paper.


"Heavy Stubber?" He said at last.


"That is correct." Enginseer Lambda confirmed.


"A fucking Heavy Stubber." He muttered. He cleared his throat, "Well Mr. Lambda this certainly seems like a matter needing Enforcer attention, thank you for alerting us to this situation." He leaned down and yanked open one of the drawers in his desk, shuffling through a few folders before pulling out the form he was looking for and handing it to the Enginseer. "The more information you can provide for us the easier a time we'll have dealing with this urgent situation, approximate location, estimated numbers, things like that. The more detailed the information you can provide the better Mr. Lambda."

 

[Mechanized Haggis]

As the Adept spoke, Lambda allowed himself the liberty of a small smile; it was good to see that people were taking the enslavement of one of the Omnissiah's children seriously. It appeared that these Enforcers were, on the whole, trustworthy. Hypatia also nodded in approval to the Adept's comment, bobbing gently up and down on the vertical plain whilst muttering something in Lingua Technis to Lambda, which he didn't quite catch. He was too busy looking quizzically at the surprised Enforcer, human cogitators did a poor job of thinking logically about a given situation, it seemed, despite the danger it posed. Lambda snapped out of this brief second look, coughing slightly and looking to the floor. Hypatia bobbed back and forth, indicating laughter in a mirthful manner.


"Of course, of course." Lambda began, not used to speaking off the cuff like this to normal imperial citizens, at the forefront of his mind was not to mention the slight differences of faith between the two; he didn't want to offend accidentally, laspistols in the forehead were quite unappealing, tending to damage one's vessel.


"Makkir's gang consists of roughly fifty unaugmented humans in the area of the Hive I am usually located in. The terrain they work in is highly urbanized, often littered with ferrocrete set up to provide decent cover for the gang members in their shootouts. A platform has been erected between two houses to provide a good area for the stubber to strafe the street below; apart from me I think," Lambda paused as if worried for a brief moment, the implications he was considering were unpleasant, his hands went instinctively to tear at his beard in slight frustration, the worry crept into his voice. "I think apart from me, my friend Logus; whom I immigrated to Necromunda with from Opus Macharius and a fellow Enginseer, also was contacted to gather the parts and help to maintain the weapon." He stopped for a brief moment, realizing he had given the Arbites basically a confession of helping gangs to give them a lot of hassle, the worry crept further into his voice. "I didn't ACTUALLY help construct it, you understand. The parts I gathered from another friend of mine, Errexus Tellice, were used to build a shrine to the Emperor; as I know his magnificence, the Omnissiah. Errexus is the one who insisted I contact you immediately, which I have done." He continued before adding in a timid tone. "Please don't kill me." To which Hypatia tilted herself in confusion to, surprised at why Lambda would think he would be killed for bringing forth useful information. She put it down to his lack of knowing in interfacing with fleshy cogitators.

 

[Cashdash25]

The Captain looked up from where he was busily filling out the form in front of him with the information provided, "Well, rest assured Mr. Lambda, we aren't in the business of executing the Emperor's Faithful for aiding criminals at gunpoint." He coughed, "And besides that, I'm pretty sure we don't have the authority to shoot Mechanicus officials." No one else seemed to think that was funny so he decided to try a different approach and grabbed the bottle on the desk. "Here kid, try this." He said, filling one of his shot glasses. "It'll help calm your nerves." He set the bottle back down and stood up, glancing at Larkin lounging in his seat, "Lieutenant, a word."


The LT obligingly stood up and followed as Seth exited the room, together the pair walked back to the storage area where they wouldn't be overheard. Upon entering the room the Captain immediately grabbed a bottle of brownish-black alcohol, yanked the top off and took several long gulps of the noxious liquid before turning around to address his subordinate. "Thoughts?"

 

[Melissia]

While the captain asked his subordinate for advice, the adept plugged her mind-impulse unit in to her dataslate, her eyes going a little unfocused.  "Okay, now to out a report for your kidnapped machine spirit..."  Her slate started to show text being entered at an astounding speed-- the speed of thought, in fact, but far more focused than most human thoughts were, no doubt a mind disciplined to communicating with machine spirits even though it was not an Adeptus Mechanicus mind.  And in seconds, she unplugged, and then went over to the barely working printer and connected it to her slate.


A short prayer mumbled towards the machine spirit, and the ritual knock that resonated throughout the room, and the aging machine-- installed by her when she arrived-- went back to life, and printed out the form upon a scroll, which she rolled up and bound in some sturdy string and presented to the enginseer.  "When you get a chance, submit this to the Adeptus Arbites office on hive block 33A, level 27, subsection 12E, third door on the right after exiting spire elevator 10C towards the north.  Crimes against the Adeptus Mechanicus, as well as any interstellar Imperial organizations, are supposed to be submitted to them, rather than the local enforcers, but I indicated that the local enforcers are currently dealing with the problem and that this is merely a notification of crime."


She gives an aside glance to the printer.  "It seems this venerable machine recognized your presence.  Normally it takes a few tries before it can print it correctly, without ink blotches everywhere..."

 

[Mechanized Haggis]

Lambda looked at the bottle, left on the table that the Captain had just finished drinking from. He shrugged, picking it up as well as examining it for about twenty seconds before taking a swig, coughing as he finished.


"Omnissiah's cogs, this is strong." He muttered before replacing the bottle, as well as taking some from the shot glass. He then looked across to the Adept, who handed him a scroll intended for some other Arbites precinct. He looked at her as she mentioned a slight issue with the Machine Spirit, he stroked his beard for a second, before speaking in a hushed tone.


"I don't mean to impose miss but if you like I can commune with the Machine Spirit to perhaps iron a few things out with him. Maybe see if he will consent to an examination of several core components. If so, I'll be able to fix him up good and proper." Lambda smiled quite enthusiastically as he began to talk about his work, before straightening out a second or so later.


"Just two other requests if that's perfectly alright. A map to see where Block thirty-three A, level twenty-seven, subsection two E, third door on the right after exiting spire elevator 10C towards the north is and if you happen to have one, a razor. Oh, also a shower." The Enginseer spoke, getting slightly absent-minded before taking another swig of the alcohol.


"Apologies for imposing." He said timorously.

 

[Melissia]

"If you can get the spirit's health up and working like it used to, I can easily print out a map for you.  As for the shower, end of the hall that way."  


She leaned back and started typing on her dataslate.  Why she didn't do it with her MIU is anyone's guess.  Maybe she just knew the value of taking it slow to spend time.