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Very short ~1200 words.

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Ambush
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Inquisitor Volum made his way down the corridor away from small shrine. He had, of late, discovered that his faith in the Emperor may have been misplaced. His new patron should have had great cathedrals and temples dedicated to his name, but until more enlightenment was brought to this world, the tiny blood soaked back room of the restaurant would be all that could escape the notice of the planet's general populace.

He met up with his guards outside, they were nervous. Volum would have been able to tell even without his talents. They had yet to find the purity of faith that Apostle Denric had showed to him, while they walked the eightfold path, they were still far from being true disciples. They grew jittery whenever the Inquisitor chose to dine at this particular restaurant.

They moved with what appeared to be the nonchalance of a minor noble enjoying an evening out with his bodyguard whileVolum reached out with his mind. His abilities were prodigious, and he sometimes wondered how he had remained blind to the greater powers of the warp for so long. Sometimes a tiny ember ignited in his mind, wondering if this had been how he'd been corrupted to evil. But that spark was always smothered mercilessly. It was not corruption to bow to a true power over a pretender to the throne of godhood.

Volum grazed upon the emotions of Hive Aronius. It was a bustling super-metropolis. A relatively new hive, the planet beyond the hive walls was still mostly inhabitable, and he sensed the baser emotions of the animals which hunted the forests and fields beyond the curtain wall. Within the hive was much more exciting, however. There, an abandoned manufactorum in the depths of the hive, the psychic death knells of a hundred works who'd died in the accident which closed it still echoing from the walls. Near the curtain wall, the elaborate mansions and estates of the ruling nobles, drenched with decades upon decades of excess and perversion. In the center of the Hive, at the Temple of the Emperor Ascendant, a thousand souls at prayer, their combined faith a flickering candle compared to the raging inferno of his own patron.

The inquisitor was shocked out of his reprieve by the scream of his lead guard. Blood fountained from a bullet hole which had appeared in the man's neck. Volum made a quick prayer to his patron that the blood should continue to flow and then dove into cover. The leader of his guard, Gerran hit the ground beside him, chambering a round into his bolt pistol.

“We need to get you clear of hear Inquisitor, there is little we can do in the open to protect you from a sniper.” Volum nodded and looked around. As an inquisitor his wit was nearly as dangerous a tool as his psychic powers and he quickly tracked back from the angle his man had been at when hit. A brick shook itself loose from the facade of a nearby building and flew bullet fast towards a window on the fourth story of a nearby building. A dark figure flitted out of the window just before the brick struck home, sending shattered glass into the street.

Volum reached out with his mind could could not grasp the thoughts of his attacker, the backwash of a hundred terrified citizens attempting to flee the streets nearly blinding his warpsight.

Tapping on the shoulder the Inquisitor and the guard began to run. Volum had his own hellpistol in his hand now as they darted across the street towards their armoured car. The guard in the lead took hold of the driver's door release just as the passenger's window shattered. The fragmentation grenade easily blew out the other four windows and left the woman's face a shattered wreck of spurting blood and shredded tissue.

Gerran grabbed the inquisitor's shoulder and steered him towards a small side alley as a third guard fell to a bullet hole in his forehead. Volum and his chief bodyguard were alone as they dove into the dar chasm between buildings, heading away from their assailant, towards the nearest arbites precinct. Volum reached out again, and while his warpsight was clearer he still could not seem to come to grips with the assassin's mind.

Gerran made the sign of the eight-pointed star across his chest, and just as he finished the fourth stroke two shots rang out in quick succession, a bullet hole appearing where each of the man's eyes had been. Gerran slid achingly slow down the wall, his soul already gone from his body. Volum felt terror begin to nibble at the edges of his reason, but he crushed it mercilessly and dashed madly down the alley, keeping whatever he could between himself and the spot he had decided the shots which took Gerran had come from.

He had nearly reached the end of the alley when another shot cracked the air, he felt the cartilage of his knee shatter and fell flat. Frantically he hauled himself into a spot behind a dumpster and lashed out with his mind. Still he could not find his assailant, but the air above him filled with shrapnel and bits of broken masonry as he unleashed ever bit of psychic force he could muster. He listened for a sound, even muffled, from his attacker. A cry of pain, of step, anything. Only deathly silence greeted him.

Frustrated beyond reason Volum filled the void himself. “You're a fool, you know that!” His voice echoed into ominous silence in the darkness. “I am no mere noble, I am perhaps the most powerful man on this planet.” Still silence was his only answer. “When my allies learn of what has happened to me, they will find you!” Nothing. “You do not even know the forces you deal with, I will damn your soul to horrors in the warp you could not possible comprehend! Your eternal soul will cry for an eternity for having crossed Byr-” A voice finally answered the inquisitor, cutting him off mid sentence.

“Inquisitor Byrin Volum, Ordos Hereticus, of the Cyclonis sector convent.” Volum lashed out with his mind in the direction of the voice, but could find no target. “Psyker, Beta Level, predominant powers those of empathy and telekenesis.” Volum switched to his hellpistol, hoping to silence his attacker with more conventional attacks. His bolts illuminated a section of masonry, pock-marking the bricks there as he drained the energy cell on automatic. “Declared Extremis Diablous at Thirteen Twenty Five Terran Standard Time, on the two hundred and thirty second day of the nine hundred and ninety eighth year of the forty first millennium of the Immortal God-Emperor.”

Volum stuttered for a second as his brain processed what had been said. “Two hundred and... but, that... that is today...” A dark shape dropped from above the inquisitor. It wore a black bodyglove festooned with weapons and bits of technology. Upon it's head it wore a skull mask which bulged upwards into a massive helmet of arcane machinery. Volum's breath froze in his throat as he realized why his attacks had been so ineffective. “Cul... cul...”

The assassin finished for him “Culexus, you'll not damn my soul to the warp, traitor. I have no soul to damn, and yours is already forfeit.” Volum screamed as the terror from before made itself fully manifest, and he heard a dark laughter echoing in the back of his mind.

Good stuff. Short and sweet. I like how you got the point of the patron god across without making him yell "OMG BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD" or something else obnoxious. It was subtle. Again, good job.

enjoyed that. thanks.