"Tell me what you know" Said Bartholomew the Scholar to the hive thug. His jowls bounced up and down as he spoke. He was not a small man, a lifetime of good food and a job that rarely required moving further than from his desk to his bookshelf had given Bartholomew's body the shape of an aubergine, swelling to a plump belly and well-cushioned bottom. He was, in short, hardly the sort of man who could intimidate a hard-bitten street thug.

And he did not.

"Or else what scrivener? You'll poke me with your quill?"

Bartholomew sighed. It would be easier if one of the more active members of the warband were here, but sometimes circumstances required a direct hand. He let out a long breath, the air in the filthy alleyway cooled, blue sparks flew from his eyes and fingertips as he seized the thug's head. "TELL ME NOW!" he bellowed, in a voice not his own.

The thug let out a gurgle, then his flesh began to smoke and then to char until only a blackened skull remained. Bartholomew dropped the now headless corpse and sighed. He closed his eyes and digested the new thoughts flowing through his mind.

Distracted, he did not notice the newcomer, not until he heard the click of a shotgun against his temple.

"Hello Bartholomew." Castigator Lexa said. "I always thought there was more to you than there seemed. But then again there would have to be. An unregistered psyker in an Inquisitor's retinue? Quite a discovery I think."

Bartholomew turned slowly and faced Lexa's mirrored visor. Her shotgun was still an inch from his bulbus head. "Oh I think you will forget this entirely." He replied. Blue sparks danced around his eyes.

"Don't even think it psy-witch. My helm was blessed against your foul sorceries."

"Oh I don't need those." From his robes he produced a data crystal it glittered in the glow of the streetlights. "You see on this crystal is incontrovertible evidence that-"

The shotgun twitched, knocking the crystal from his fingers, it fell to the flagstones and shattered. Before it even hit the ground the shotgun was again an inch from his face.

"You were saying?"

"I was saying I have several crystals like that one, secreted in various locales, ready to be sent to your superiors and our Inquisitive master. Each one with incontrovertible evidence that you are in the pay of the Orion Syndicate and selling Xenos artifacts to them. So long as I live a happy and healthy life, those data crystals stay where they are."

Lexa lowered her shotgun. "I think we can make an arrangement."

Bartholomew relaxed as well. Having the Arbitor under his thumb would make things much easier. And if she was troublesome, well she would have to take off her helmet sometime.

The scrivener could not see it under her full face helm, but Lexa was smiling. It was a shame he'd caught on to her lucrative sideline, but also a relief. She'd worried that he had evidence of her other extracurricular activities. But apparently he did not. It was just as well. Sacrificing Bartholomew on the altar of the Cult of the Bloodflame would be so much more satisfying than blowing his brains out in an alleyway. Especially now that he was revealed as a hated psyker. The Lord of Skulls would be especially pleased.