Like last time, Adept Kolmoroff was waiting for him in the foyer; she was accompanied by ten guards. The old woman’s piercing augmented gaze seemed glued to Attelus. Her face so lined, it was hard to believe she wasn’t born a short, wizened, hunched old hag in worn Administratum robes. Attelus frowned; hag? That was too harsher a word; so far, he found he liked the old woman.
Unless she’d sold them out, of course.
‘Greetings, Agent of the Throne,’ she said. ‘How fairs your stay in the Refectory?’
Attelus shrugged. ‘Alright, I guess, mamzel Kolmoroff. How fairs you doing Administratum....things?’
There was a pause. ‘Alright...young man. Come, I will take you to the Astropath’s quarters.’
With a nod, Attelus raised a hand in acquiescence, and Kolmoroff nodded and turned and led him onwards.


Attelus still wanted a smoke, but Kolmoroff didn’t seem the type who’d be happy about it. In silence, they walked through the corridor, Attelus trying to keep his constant glancing into every inch and corner of the barely lit, wide stone hallway secret and even in here, the sound of the downpour outside wouldn’t go away. He was frigging glad of the silence; he hated and was terrible at small talk. He would've liked to question Kolmoroff, but he didn’t want to risk tipping her off he was-
‘Here we are,’ said Kolmoroff as she stopped in front of one of the doors; about halfway down the hallway, there was a good twenty stretching to turn in the north and south. There was no cover, an excellent place for an ambush. Kolmoroff tapped her finger on the iron door.
But it didn’t open.
The Adept’s mouth dropped, then she slapped the iron with her palm. ‘Daniss?’
Still no reply.
‘Daniss?’ she repeated and began slamming in quick succession, but Attelus stopped her.
‘Get back,’ Attelus said as he slowly drew his sword, and Kolmoroff almost threw herself away.
‘Wh-what are you doing?’
Attelus’ sword exploded into life in a blaze of blue and, with one downward slice, cut through the door hinges.
‘By the Emperor!’ Kolmoroff cried, then Attelus kicked in the door, sword at the ready.
The walls of the small hab unit were coated in blood and brain matter. A man in the robes of an astropath sat in a chair at a wooden desk down a small hallway on the other side of the room; it was clear that everything from the jaw upward had been reduced into a ragged mess. Attelus flinched, but what really disturbed him were the tiny holes coating the rock wall and the desk, indicating the skull had exploded from the inside out with so much velocity the bone shards had become shrapnel. The stink of blood, gore and excrement were somehow overtaken by the stench of psychic discharge. This wasn’t good; this meant their enemy was a powerful psyker skilled enough to kill an astropath or had a psyker in their employ powerful enough.
‘gak!’ snarled Attelus.
‘Wh-’
‘When did you last talk to him?’
Kolmoroff just gaped at Attelus.
‘When did you talk to your astropath last!’
‘When-when he called me just before I called you, why?’
Before Attelus could answer, the lights around flickered, then they died out.


Fifty-eight men patrolled the Counting Building's walls and balconies, and all fifty-eight were taken out simultaneously and in complete silence. Throats sliced open in ragged explosions of jetting red.
A black figure on the Counting House’s roof flickered into view and waved a hand at the sky, a black ship floating about one hundred metres above appeared, dropped a good fifty metres and from its belly zip-lines lowered, then black-figure after black-figure began sliding down, as the guards’ assassins began to close in.


Attelus tried the micro-bead yet again and yet again, got nothing but static.
‘What is happening?’ whined Kolmoroff.
Ignoring her, Attelus turned on one of the nearest guards. ‘You! Get to the barracks and get the off duty men woken up! Tell them we’re under attack! Now!’
‘Y-yes, ma- I mean, sir!’ said the guard, and he ran off like he was on fire.
‘W-we are under attack?’ cried Kolmoroff.
Hoping the attackers weren’t somehow wearing syn skin bodygloves, Attelus blink-clicked his photo contacts to heat vision and drew his autopistol as the guards finally began to spread out lasguns raised.
‘What do we do?’ said Kolmoroff.
Attelus racked the slide, hoping that’d make her shut up as he listened. Was that hissing? A Lascutter? Sounds like it's on the main door and...
Padding footfalls incredibly light, practically silent approaching...
He listened, it must’ve only taken half a second, but it seemed like hours, and slowly more and more pairs, dozens of pairs and...
‘gak!’ he snapped and blink-clicked heat-vision off. ‘They’re already inside, and they’re cutting through the main doors with las-cutters. Many, perhaps too many, are converging on us on both sides, all nine of you, face south and ready your guns. I’ll take the north.’
The guards glanced at each other in bemusement. ‘Now! Frig it. And open fire when I give the command, semi-auto, pinning fire, and conserve ammo. Mamzel Kolmoroff take cover.’
‘Yes, sir,’ the guards chorused.
‘Throne Agent Kaltos-’
Attelus shushed Kolmoroff and closed his eyes, willing his night vision to set in and reached out even further with his hearing. He was no psyker, but his enhancement was psychic in nature and gave him, to an extent, the ability to control his senses almost like one.
And...
His eyes snapped open. ‘Open fire, now!’
The familiar chatter of las-fire erupted then Attelus was launching forwards towards the trio of shimmering forms emerging from around the corner and the others just behind.
Switching his autopistol to fully automatic, Attelus opened fire in a wild flurry, he wasn’t the best shot but the sheer amount of rounds more than made up for his inaccuracy as two silhouettes writhed, and hazes of blood exploded from their backs.
Attelus was wearing syn skin, too, so he would’ve been a shimmering haze to the enemy as well. By then, four more had slipped out, and they opened fire, their silenced autoguns showering shots. Despite the dozens of rounds flying for him, Attelus didn’t slow as his sword, a blur even to his eyes, deflected their fire. High yield suppressed autoguns, probably customised Armageddon Patterns, likely using armour penetrating manstopper rounds like in Attelus’ pistol, simple but perfect for wet-work such as this, the Modus Operandi of the elite Sons of Dispater mercenaries. They only had time for a brief blurt before he was in amongst them.
His diagonal cut opened an attacker from right hip to left shoulder; the following slice gutted a second. Then the reverse went through another’s throat. Attelus’ side kick crashed against the autogun of one who tried to raise it, the gun broke from the attacker's hands then into their chest. The attacker flew off his feet, hit the wall headfirst with an ugly crunch, and collapsed limply on their face. Attelus lastly sliced his sword into the chest of a fifth.
One assassin swung out the butt of their rifle, but Attelus weaved beneath it, then unleashed a burst of autopistol fire point-blank into his chest; the attacker convulsed and dropped with a cry of agony. Another enemy managed to bring up their autogun to their hip and rattled off a flurry. Attelus slid aside it then threw out a high front kick. It smashed into the attacker’s chin, and Attelus felt the bone collapse upward beneath his boot, then the attacker fell on his back so hard it seemed to shake the entire building.
All of this only took about two seconds. Attelus glanced around the corner. Many more cloaked figures were moving his way, and he pulled back as their shots spat. So Attelus only felt and heard his three frag grenades explode among them.
Their cries echoing in his ears, Attelus turned back and sprinted towards the guards and Kolmoroff, thanking his luck they were still standing and still alive. Their lasguns spitting. They could be assassins of the Sons of Dispater, but they weren’t Etuarq’s direct agents, which Attelus thanked his luck for. Etuarq’s agents were enhanced too, their reflexes and strength equal to Attelus’ own. But that didn’t mean Etuarq wasn’t their patron.
‘I’m approaching on your six!’ Attelus yelled and stopped just behind the guards, adding his own pistol shots to their barrage. ‘The right side four of you, pinning fire to the north!’
Just as he hoped, four on the right spun simultaneously and began blasting, their discipline yet again impressing him.
His autopistol clicked dry, and he reloaded in a split-second. ‘The rest of you turn north on three.’
‘Sir! Yes, sir!’
‘Three...’ Attelus called as he readied himself to explode in a sprint.
‘Two...One!’
The five guards turned as one and added their salvo to their comrades’.
The enemies finding themselves to no longer pinned Attelus, exploded forwards as they went to lean out and spread out cautiously. Their reactions were fast, damned fast as their autoguns began spitting. Attelus took one down with a flurry of autofire, his shots slicing the assassin across the chest left to right before he was forced into dodging and deflecting through their fire. He managed to lunge at the nearest and send the attacker’s autogun swinging off aim with a roundhouse kick. Then Attelus stabbed him through the chest, the assassin writhed and screamed as Attelus knelt down and forced the attacker to stand between him and the rest of his comrades as they turned their guns Attelus’ way.
The assassin burst and squirmed as he was perforated by round after round. Attelus then stood and sent a sidekick into the assassin, throwing the corpse, wheeling off his sword and crashing into two more of the enemies. Attelus threw off another blurt of shots, one round which winged an attacker then through the knee of another. Attelus darted at the two still recovering assassins and finished them with a shot to the skull each.
Just before Attelus was cut down by the shots from their fellows, he darted behind the corner. Attelus cursed; dozens of more blurs were approaching from there; they must’ve managed to cut through the main doors. Attelus took out his last frag and tossed it around; he waited for the resulting blast, then leaned out and shot out a desperate barrage. He had the corner and cover now if he could hold them back perhaps-
‘Attelus Xanthis Kaltos!’
The exclamation of his name made Attelus spin back, pistol raised, and he clenched his teeth.
All ten of the guards had stopped shooting and were pointing their lasguns at the terrified Adept Kolomoroff with loose grips, their eyes wide and white as their tongues lolled in their dumb, gaping mouths.
Attelus knew when a psyker was controlling a person.
‘Drop your weapons, now,’ a tall, thin figure emerged from behind the shimmering figures further down the hallway; he wore a long buttoned up black storm coat, his head shaven except for a black, well-trimmed beard and large bushy eyebrows his hands behind his back. ‘You are such a great warrior and all, but you are also overly sentimental, to such an extent it could be a psychological issue called a “hero complex”. Not just that, you must know that you will be soon overwhelmed and killed.’
Attelus took a glance at the wall.
The man saw that and shrugged. ‘You might cut a hole through there and escape, but would you leave this poor, nice lady to die?’
‘Who are you?’ said Attelus but didn’t lower his pistol. ‘Why are you assaulting an Imperial compound with a whole frigging battalion of Sons of Dispater mercenaries?’
‘Ahh, so you managed to figure that out; I should not be surprised you being a former mercenary. Now drop your weapons, or the nice elderly Administratum drone dies.’
Attelus clenched his teeth; how did this man know so much about him? An Inquisitor, this idiot had to be an Inquisitor. Then he looked to Kolmoroff. ‘Screw this frigger,’ she snarled. ‘Just-’
‘Shut it, you old bitch!’ the man snarled as he pulled out a bolt pistol and exploded a guard’s skull with a point-blank round. Kolmoroff to yelp out and flinch as the poor man’s blood and brain matter splattered all over her. Then the man pointed the smoking pistol at Attelus.
‘You know I have a force of dozens of elite Inquisitorial agents staying in the refectory, including a beta-level psyker, right?’ said Attelus.
‘Oh, I know, but I have an ace up my sleeve, just a ship in orbit with its targets on the refectory as we speak. I mean, come on. Just drop your damned weapons already.’
Sighing, Attelus dropped his sword and pistol with clatters.
‘Good,’ said the man. ‘Now your throwing knives, your mono knife and boot knife too.’
Groaning, Attelus began to do as told. ‘Now, are you going to at least tell me who the frig you? are’
The man smiled and held out a rosette showing the sigil of the Ordo Xenos. ‘I am Inquisitor Drevan, and it is so good to finally meet you.’
Attelus’ chest became overtaken by heart-rendering fear.