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Another day, another time that you wake up somewhere that isn’t your beloved crusty mattress.
As usual you can’t recall much of what happened yesterday but somehow you ended the night and fell asleep in your dirty bathtub, it aint the best of the beds but it sure beats the hard and cold rockcrete streets covered in trash. Around you cold and dirty sludgy water and a dozen of floating empty liquor bottles act like your blanket and a dripping faucet and the distant echoing sounds of crime and crashing waves serve as your alarm clock.

With a groan you get out and send grayish water, clanking bottles and shot glasses everywhere. Outside of your bathroom’s window you see the ever-constant downpouring rain that never ends falling over a forest of skyscrapers surrounded by a labyrinth of pipes, hanging railways, clouds of servoskull swarms, elevated highways, pneumatic tubes, neon signs and the ever-present gothic architecture that makes your home, the massive Hive city of Chirosius Primus, also known as the Buoy City of Oily Despots, located in the Ocean Hive world of Piskeneccia VIII.

You don’t like standing near windows for long, you have seen too many bastards get sniped for getting too close to the glass. After closing the shutters, you stumble weakly and pull yourself into the toilet to violently puke your stomach’s contents, expired artificial food mixed with acrid and acidic bile burning your lips as it leaves your rotten body. As your guts finish emptying you immediately start coughing and belching, until blood and even a tooth comes out of your mouth.

As you clean your mouth a brain splitting migraine starts to hit you hard. Your head feels like it’s about to explode, it’s a familiar feeling, every morning’s the same, yet you never get fully used to it. Slowly you move yourself to the sink and turn the rusty knobs to no luck, it then hits you how due to unpaid bills they cut out your water a couple of days ago. While cursing under your breath you leave the dirty and moldy bathroom and head into the rest of the tiny office where you work and live and after rummaging around you somehow find a dusty yet unopened Recaf bottle.

The dark brown plastic bottle simply has the picture of a faded leaf and coffee seed on it, the rest is all chemical components and strange words too small to read and too complex to understand. You used to drink this shit during your time in the Imperial Guard, tastes like melted combat boot and sweaty sock soup mixed with Ork shit, but it ended growing over you, besides, you also like it because it’s the cheapest Recaf[hat the shops in lower levels of the hive sell. All in all, it’s just a barely edible brown sludge full of artificial sugar, hyper concentrated caffeine, and chemical stimulants but you can’t live without it.
>>
>>5019866

To make it more palatable you mix it with some of the many half drank bottles of Amasec lying around and after chugging it down you look at the expiration date of the Recaf and see that it expired a couple of months ago, which is kind of sad and pathetic because this bland and fake coffee was made to last forever and be almost impossible to eat past its expiration date. Hell, if the date on the bottom of the bottle’s right this shit was made more than two hundred years ago. Whatever, who cares, you have eaten worse in the guard and soon enough the liquor will start to hit you and you’ll return to your normal careless apathetic self.

To you being constantly half drunk is the only way that you can keep the hangover at bay. You can’t avoid but chuckle and think how in your life you have met all kind of monsters and psychopaths and how you can honestly say that none of them scared you as much as the possibility of what might happen if you stop drinking. Your body has accumulated more than ten years of constant drinking, if you ever stop the hangover will be so fucking brutal that you’ll wish to be dead. You cannot avoid but softly chuckle as you start to remember how you’ve seen people getting their brains blown out with a point-blank laser blast to the face and how they were still conscious and alive for some painfully long seconds afterwards, some even were slightly articulate enough to ask for help. You guess that your killer hangover will feel like that, if not worse, only time will tell.

With a weak laugh you throw the empty Amasec and coffee bottle from the window of your 1044th story flat as you always do and sit on the couch to rest and lazily you turn on the TV and see the usual Imperial propaganda in the form of actions shows that blatantly urge people to join the army so they can fight the Imperium’s enemies and see wondrous planets. These shows tell you that scars are sexy and that women love ‘em, they tell you that after only a few years of service you will be given a plot of fertile land in an incredibly beautiful world so you can settle and form a family. Now you can see their lies, now you know that it’s all a bunch groxcrap. You are a fool, but back when you were a kid you were an even bigger fool. You still remember the day that you joined the guard, the last day that you would see your ma and pa, the day you made the biggest mistake of your life. You were a nothing but a little runt, barely 12 years old, just a kid who lied in the application papers and somehow survived all the way until now. Normally the guard takes the best of the best that a planet can offer, but they needed arms quickly, and so simply took everyone stupid enough to come to them.
>>
>>5019867

And so, you were sent on a spaceship and were given a set of flimsy hand me down armor that reeked of blood and was several sizes too big, a standard lasgun, received the most basic of the trainings and sailed among the stars to fight against the worst horrors that the universe could conjure. First were the Orks, then Heretic groups that wanted to splinter from the Imperium… followed by another enemy, and another, and another… and then one day they after decades of fighting for humanity and an especially gruesome campaign against the Tau they inform you that an anomaly was discovered in your report, and that since you lied in your papers to join the guard you are going to be dishonorably discharged and forced to land and exile in the next planet the ship docks in, to add insult to injury they also made sure that all of your merits and medals were stripped away and that you became illegible for any kind of retirement aid. You could see the smug face of the Commissar that read your “crimes” as she called them, to be honest your only crime was to not die soon enough, the Guard doesn’t likes when a soldier lives long enough to retire, for they’ll have to pay them for the rest of their lives and also pay for any kind of bionic or medical aid that they might need, so they try any trick in the book to make soldiers stay poor and miserable. You are sure that they knew that you joined the guard when you were a child, but they didn’t care and only mattered to them when you became too old for their tastes. Luckily for you along the years and the many wars that you fought you ended making many close and loyal friends, and they stood by your side and heavily commented how they thought that this was fucked up even for the Guard’s standards, and somehow, they all chipped in and managed to smuggle some weapons, food, gear and money for you. And honestly this saved your life, without it you’d have been dead meat, Piskeneccia VIII is a dangerous planet, even for Hive World standards

Not many hives are built in ocean worlds, but this fucked up planet is an outliner at that. World’s core choking with volcanos that spew out massive oily bubbles full of strange vapors and gases unique to this hellish world. The gigantic bubbles come out and slowly float into the skies before exploding and raining their precious matter, which has been proved to be easily turned into promethium and all kinds of useful oils and chemicals. This planet was settled on the Dark Age of Technology, the explorers and colonists that located this shithole found out that they could turn the bubbles into a near infinite source of fuel, and quickly built the first of the floating hives that make up this world. They too somehow altered the local weather to create massive storms that have been downpouring on the hives nonstop for more than seven thousand years.
>>
>>5019868

The storms sucks, but without them everybody would have been long dead, the hundreds of exploding bubbles that surround the world would have coated the cities in a virulent fog and a thick layer of poisonous and highly flammable liquids, and it wouldn’t have taken long until people started to get sick and die in troves or massive fires started to erupt everywhere. The storm is a pretty clever and bizarre form of life saving technology, whenever one of those bubbles gets anywhere near the hive the storm catches it and its internal lighting erupts it, creating a thunderous and bright explosion that quickly combusts the gases and turns them into mere black smoke.

These bubbles full of fuel are the main economy of the Hives, and most of the local citizens either work in its refinement or fly in zeppelins and use hoses to extract and suck the bubbles and collect their valuable contents. Most of those zeppelins are primitive by Imperial standards, they don’t have jet engines of any kind and barely have electric components or light bulbs inside, all done to avoid any kind of flame or spark that could ignite the bubbles and cause a deadly explosion. And yet, every day you hear people in the streets crying and complaining about those same ships suffering grim accidents and the many deaths that they bring. These bubbles are the life and death of this wretched planet. Due to those same bubbles the ocean is far from clean, it has an oily tint to it, and it isn’t rare to see distant fires and burning water in the horizon. The water is completely poisonous, even if someone miraculously managed to survive having its zeppelin blown out the massive oil levels on the sea would mean an inevitable death by poisoning, so every time it happens rescue missions are never conducted. The seas are so poisonous that no life ever managed to form in here, not even bacterial lifeforms, this is a dead ocean world the only things down there, are countless human corpses.

You raise an empty glass to those fools who died at the skies or the oceans, they were nothing but fools like you. The Imperium is a massive machine greased with the blood of countless untold millions.

Cheers to ‘em all.
>>
>>5019872

Honestly this isn’t the kind of life that you imagined you’d have. You had dreams of setting in some far away world with pleasant weather, perhaps even like the world you were born and raised in… what was its name again? You forgot, along with the name of your parents… such is life. You dreamed of having a small house and growing crops or raising cattle, and then meet someone nice to look at and raise several kids. But it all went to hell, the moment you got exiled here you became a raging alcoholic and simply did what you knew best, kill. You became a hired gun and worked for several years killing folk for dirty money.

This went on until you one day saw yourself covered in the blood of innocents and the reflection in the mirror mocked you. Somehow you had become a monster… and that was more painful than all of the wounds that you had suffered over the years.

In a form of self atonement you decided to leave that life behind and become a private investigator, to help people instead of simply killing ‘em, and to be sure that your gun never ends another innocent life. Sadly, as heroic as that might sound it isn’t a good life, not many people trust a killer like you, and the enemies that you made over the years made sure that your life would be hell in one way or another.

Nowadays you can barely survive ‘till the end of the month, only the most desperate of the clients come to your office, your bills keep piling up, and despite your change of heart with each new job that you get you end making new enemies that want you dead, so that hasn’t changed much.

With a long sigh and a pained yawn you turn off the TV and see your dirty mug in the reflection. You check your clock and see that you are about to be late for work, as usual. Being a private investigator is nice, but it doesn’t pays the bills, so you ended taking a second job to at least be able to get some grub at the end of the day.
>>
>>5019874

You return to the bathroom and use some of the nasty gray water of your bathtub to clean your face and armpits. Knowing that they would cut your water you filled this tub in advance and have been using it to drink, bathe, clean yourself and even cook. From time to time you empty a bottle of Amasec, Old-foiz, Rahzvod or whatever spirit is at a discount at the store in the bathtub to clean it and also give it some flavor. Honestly, you could have used water instead, plain old water’s pretty cheap on this planet, after all its a byproduct of the many sea scrubbing plants that dot the coastline and work hard to extract the fuel and oil from the ocean. After cleaning yourself with some old water mixed with liquor and scrubbing yourself with a ragged towel you walk to the cracked and dirty mirror of your bathroom and look at yourself, and on the other side see a bruised and dirty body covered in badly healed scars, disgusting tattered bandages and nasty burn marks. You aren’t as young as you used to be, you have spent most of your life moving from battlefield to battlefield, time forgives no one and you are starting to feel the toll of age on your old body.

You cannot avoid looking at your reflection and seeing a stranger on the other side. People change over the years, but not many have changed as drastically as you did. You know that your name is Lawrence Falconus , yet you cannot avoid asking yourself… “Who are you?”, and the reflection smirks back. “Who am I?”

> Taxi driver: You used to drive across the harshest of environments, the roughest of roads, the fiercest of battlefields… and honestly the Piskeneccia VIIIn streets aren’t much better. You spend more time in your car than at your home, and now driving fast and shooting punks that attempt to rob or hijack you with your trusty slugger is your daily routine.
- Start with a Car and a Slug Pistol

> Sewer worker: You used to clean minefields and travel in advance to remove predators from thick jungles or other dangerous areas so the main armies could field and be deployed safely. Now you work scouting the sewers and using flamers to remove plague rats, infestations of deadly fungus and whatever other horrors might be lurking down there.
- Start with a Flamer

> Meat wagon worker: There are no graveyards on the hives, and incinerating or throwing dead bodies at the sea is a crime here. On top of that this planet has no natural lifeforms and very few plants can grow here. Despite all the ships that bring supplies on the daily there are many food shortages. Anyone that dies, either by natural or violent causes is taken away by people like you and then turned into corpse starch. Your duty is to collect these bodies and chop ‘em down to more manageable sizes before transporting them to the meat factories.
- Start with a chainsword
>>
>>5019876
> Taxi driver: You used to drive across the harshest of environments, the roughest of roads, the fiercest of battlefields… and honestly the Piskeneccia VIIIn streets aren’t much better. You spend more time in your car than at your home, and now driving fast and shooting punks that attempt to rob or hijack you with your trusty slugger is your daily routine.
>>
>>5019876
> Taxi driver: You used to drive across the harshest of environments, the roughest of roads, the fiercest of battlefields… and honestly the Piskeneccia VIIIn streets aren’t much better. You spend more time in your car than at your home, and now driving fast and shooting punks that attempt to rob or hijack you with your trusty slugger is your daily routine.
Are you talking to me?
>>
>>5019876
> Taxi driver: You used to drive across the harshest of environments, the roughest of roads, the fiercest of battlefields… and honestly the Piskeneccia VIIIn streets aren’t much better. You spend more time in your car than at your home, and now driving fast and shooting punks that attempt to rob or hijack you with your trusty slugger is your daily routine.
Holy exposition, that's an essay and a half.
>>
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>>5019882
> Are you talking to me?
Heh, I love that movie. Since it seems that the winning vote will be being a taxi driver the next update will have a reference to it.

>>5019885
>Holy exposition, that's an essay and a half.
I know it was long, but I wanted to set the theme and explain as much lore as possible. This took me about 3 days to write, next updates won't be as long, and will normally happen once or twice a day.
>>
>>5019876
>> Sewer worker: You used to clean minefields and travel in advance to remove predators from thick jungles or other dangerous areas so the main armies could field and be deployed safely. Now you work scouting the sewers and using flamers to remove plague rats, infestations of deadly fungus and whatever other horrors might be lurking down there.
>>
>>5019901
Yea, I can see that. But go easy on yourself, don't want to see a promising QM burn out.
>>
>>5019876
>> Sewer worker: You used to clean minefields and travel in advance to remove predators from thick jungles or other dangerous areas so the main armies could field and be deployed safely. Now you work scouting the sewers and using flamers to remove plague rats, infestations of deadly fungus and whatever other horrors might be lurking down there.
>>
>>5019876
>> Taxi driver: You used to drive across the harshest of environments, the roughest of roads, the fiercest of battlefields… and honestly the Piskeneccia VIIIn streets aren’t much better. You spend more time in your car than at your home, and now driving fast and shooting punks that attempt to rob or hijack you with your trusty slugger is your daily routine.
>-
Great writing, i read it in a old detective somoker voice lol
>>
>>5019876
>Taxi driver: You used to drive across the harshest of environments, the roughest of roads, the fiercest of battlefields… and honestly the Piskeneccia VIIIn streets aren’t much better. You spend more time in your car than at your home, and now driving fast and shooting punks that attempt to rob or hijack you with your trusty slugger is your daily routine.

Pic rel?
>>
>>5019876
>> Taxi driver: You used to drive across the harshest of environments, the roughest of roads, the fiercest of battlefields… and honestly the Piskeneccia VIIIn streets aren’t much better. You spend more time in your car than at your home, and now driving fast and shooting punks that attempt to rob or hijack you with your trusty slugger is your daily routine.
>>
Jesus Christ! Well, A+ for effort QM, I'll catch up when I have the time.
>>
>>5019876
> Taxi driver: You used to drive across the harshest of environments, the roughest of roads, the fiercest of battlefields… and honestly the Piskeneccia VIII’s streets aren’t much better. You spend more time in your car than at your home, and now driving fast and shooting punks that attempt to rob or hijack you with your trusty slugger is your daily routine.

Since you joined the Guard as a scrawny kid you were pretty good at fitting inside of small and cramped spaces, so the Top Brass decided that you would make a good tank operator. Along with other skinny fellas you were trained on the driving, operation and even field repair procedures of Tanks and similar vehicles and then sent to battle the Ork menace. Your first encounter against the Greenskins happened in a frozen world, with you inside the safety and warmth of a Leman Russ tank, as the battle erupted and both sides clashed you felt hundreds of misshapen orkoid bullets and dull axe blades hitting against the tank’s thick armor plates but ultimately and thanks to the Emperor’s grace you ended surviving unscathed, but not everybody was as fortunate as you were, as the battle died off you opened the tank’s upper hatch door and witnessed around you countless of guardsmen that were either violently gored and maimed or had died horrifyingly, either frozen to death or brutally murdered by the vile xenos.

This firsthand experience made you feel unease when out of a vehicle, of course you can fight and battle in the open, but its only whenever you are behind a wheel that you truly feel in your element. Over the years you drove and operated many tanks and armed vehicles, from the humble two-legged Sentinel to the mighty and unstoppable Baneblade. As you visited different teathers of war and fought heretics and aliens alike you learned to love small and enclosed spaces and were taught many mechanical jury-rigging repairing techniques that if found by the Mechanicus would put you in a tight and risky situation. The many hard-earned lessons that fate provided you with ultimately turned you into one hell of a taxi driver, as years passed by you ended gaining the respect of the locals and the hatred of the gangs and ultimately earned the nickname of the “Unhuntable” and the infamous reputation of being impossible to hijack or intimidate. Many gangers have tried to steal your precious illegally modded and turbocharged yellow taxicab, countless of stupid punks have ended violently thrown away from your car or crushed under your heavy wheels.
>>
>>5020642

With a winded sigh and a loud crack of your neck bones you look at your reflection in the dirty mirror and start to speak.

“You talkin’ to me? You talkin’ to me? You talkin’ to ME? Then who the hell else are you talkin’s to?”

With a smirk you grab and holster your trusty Stub Gun under your left armpit and put on your dirty tattered cap, working clothes and the leather bomber jacket that the taxi drivers around here wear around.

“You talkin’ to me? Well, I’m the only one here. Who do the FUCK do you think you’re talking to? Oh, yeah? Ok.”

With a rage filled punch you crack the mirror, a thousand mirrored reflections of your ugly mug mocking your very own psyche. You look at your fist and see a bloodied and calloused hand covered in cuts and a dozen lodged glass shards. One by one you remove them all and then walk to the kitchen to grab and open a bottle of Vostroyan vodka to clean and sterilise your wounds before chugging the rest of the bottle down. As your alcohol level increases your headache fades away.

Without nothing better to do and already being late to work you start to walk towards the door to leave. But then something happens, as you are about to grab the handle you notice it softly turning and shaking. It might be rats; it might be someone trying to break it.

You have made many, many enemies over the years, among the guard, among the xenos, among the hive gangs and crime lords. This wouldn’t be the first time that someone tries to assassinate you, hell, it wouldn’t even be the first time that someone goes all in and attempts to burn your entire house down. You know that someday your journey will come to a sudden end, that you won’t be lucky enough to die of old age, people like you are fated to meet a grisly death, but today won’t be that day.
>>
>>5020643

Smirking you light up a “Terran Dusk” brand Lho-Stick and cock your weapon. To be honest you are happy of this, ever since you became infamous among the criminals, they mostly stopped trying to rob your taxi and honestly, you have been itching for a good fight.

The simplest and easiest option would be to simply go gun blazing and shoot first. The moron trying to pick up your lock isn’t fast and good enough. It would be easy to fill your door with holes and kill whoever the fuck is on the other side. If you are lucky enough all you’ll have to repair will be your front door, so it shouldn’t be very expensive.

Still, it’s a risky option, what if on the other side there’s an entire gang waiting to jump on you? Perhaps you don’t have enough bullets for them all. Another possibility is to grab all your kitchen knives, make molotovs of all the liquor bottles lying around and then flip your desk and bed and build a barricade from where you can fight. This option might be safer, but if a gunfight erupts here, you’ll surely destroy most if not all your home, there will be no way you’ll be able to pay for all this.

Lastly, there’s the truly radical option. You have a pantry filled with dozens of jars and bottles full of chemical components, some taken from gangs, others stolen from shops, a few ones legitimately bought. These chemicals have proven very useful in your private investigations, and being honest, sometimes you use them to make drugs and be able to silence your inner demons and endure the day. During your time at the Guard, you learned how to make a bomb out of pretty much anything. Useful in case you get trapped inside of a tank. You could open your kitchen’s gas valves and with the chemicals available you make several bombs that explode with contact with water, if you get them ready at your dirty bathtub you could run away and leave them a nasty surprise. By the time your flat explodes you should be long gone. This will completely obliterate your home, hopefully it will be attributed to a gas leak and you won’t be forced to pay for the damages.

> Shoot first, ask question later. Empty your gun on your door and kill whoever is on the other side.
> Take all your kitchen knives, make molotovs out of your many liquor bottles and flip your bed and desk to make a makeshift barricade. If they want a fight, they’ll have it.
> Turn your entire home into a nasty deadly trap. You won’t miss this run down and decrepit flophouse anyway.
> Other options, write in.
>>
>>5020645
>> Turn your entire home into a nasty deadly trap. You won’t miss this run down and decrepit flophouse anyway.
>>
>>5020645
> Take all your kitchen knives, make molotovs out of your many liquor bottles and flip your bed and desk to make a makeshift barricade. If they want a fight, they’ll have it.
>>
>>5020645
>Take all your kitchen knives, make molotovs out of your many liquor bottles and flip your bed and desk to make a makeshift barricade. If they want a fight, they’ll have it.
>>
>>5020645
> Take all your kitchen knives, make molotovs out of your many liquor bottles and flip your bed and desk to make a makeshift barricade. If they want a fight, they’ll have it.
>>
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>>5020645
> Take all your kitchen knives, make molotovs out of your many liquor bottles and flip your bed and desk to make a makeshift barricade. If they want a fight, they’ll have it.

With a grunt you move fast and throw to the ground several file cabinets choking full of reports about old cases and information pertaining high profile individuals, certain criminals and clues of all types. As you topple the cabinets you create a makeshift barrier that blocks the main door and with each falling cabinet you create a loud ruckus, the heavy metal falling violently onto your wooden floor and splintering the rotten floorboards in a thousand pieces.

Your neighbours start to scream, wonder what the fuck is going on and loudly curse your name, several babies start to cry as well.

You then sprint back to the kitchen and start grabbing as many knives as you can, then you cut your kitchen's curtains and combine them with the countless booze bottles lying around to quickly make several molotov fire bombs.

The noise you created alarmed whoever is on the other side, for your attackers stealth isn't an option anymore. They begin kicking and pummelling the door to no luck, the cabinets are holding still.

Feeling slightly out of breath you flip your work desk and your bed and create a quick and makeshift barricade to protect yourself from any incoming fire.

Seeing as the kicks and punches are useless your enemies go all in and start shooting down. Soon dozens of bullet and laser holes start to punch your wall and door. Grabbing as much ammo as you can you jump behind the barricade and ready yourself.

"Come for me you daft punks! I've more than enough lead for all of you!" You scream.

And then, the door explodes open and the file cabinets are blown away. It's showtime.

> Throw the knives, save the precious ammo for later.
> Open fire and start shooting any incoming enemy. You have no time for this.
> Fuck it, throw one of the molotovs and burn as many as you can.
> Other options, write in.
>>
>>5021375
>> Open fire and start shooting any incoming enemy. You have no time for this.
>>
>>5021375
>>> Open fire and start shooting any incoming enemy. You have no time for this.
Man. Even if they're shooting at us I can't help but feel like an old vet with PTSD about to shoot a random kid prank-knocking on his door -or a potential client. Oh well, trust your gut and what not.
>>
>>5021375
>> Open fire and start shooting any incoming enemy. You have no time for this.
>>
>>5021375
> Fuck it, throw one of the molotovs and burn as many as you can.

>>5021451
Clients knock or leave a message, pranksters fuck off at the first sign of trouble.
>>
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>>5021541
>>5021536
>>5021451
>>5021395
Opening fire wins!

> Roll 1d100!
> The higher the better
> Best of 3!
>>
Rolled 39 (1d100)

>>5021557
>>
Rolled 96 (1d100)

>>5021557
>>
Rolled 62 (1d100)

>>5021557
>>
Rolled 77 (1d100)

>>5021565
>>5021564
>>5021559
My turn.
>>
>>5021557
Rolled 81 (1d100)
>>
Alright, your highest roll is 96, my roll is 77.

>Successful roll!
For each dozen of difference we get a degree of success.
96-77= 19
19 = 1 Degree of success.

I'm in a good mood, so I'll give two degrees of success instead of one! You guys will have two small bonuses!
>>
>>5021375
> Open fire and start shooting any incoming enemy. You have no time for this.

As your entrance is breached it doesn't takes long for the first intruder to enter inside of your home.

"Stavros Induldant, the Relentless Emissary of the Sweltering Sanctorum sends his regards. Falconum! You stopped his plans of conquest and for that you are to-" BANG!

In less than a second you left your cover, aimed your gun and made your trusty pistol fire a single bullet, an instant later your walls are coated with blood and brain bits. One bullet, one less shithead in this heap of trash.

With quick reaction your attackers open fire as they stand back and take cover behind the walls or the file cabinets that are strewn on the floor. As a hundred bullets fly over your head you hurriedly take cover as well and use one of your many knives as a mirror to see what's behind you.

Your attackers are wielding machineguns and wearing thick trenchcoats and strange plastic like helmets, they are possibly heavily armoured under their clothes but luckily your gun seems to be capable of easily penetrate their mask.

"Faceshots it is!" You scream from behind cover. "It's a shame, being shot in the face is usually an easy and quick death, normally with people like you I aim at the stomach. The stomach is slow and painful, if you are shot in the stomach you know its personal."
>>
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>>5021658

You aren't fully sure of who these people are, you have no idea of who this Stavros fucker is, and being honest you don't really care all that much. You simply have too many enemies to count them all. It's true that over the years your private investigations have thwarted many criminal plans, but let's be honest, you live in the lower levels of a Hive world, crime is everywhere around you. Many days you simply drive around the worst parts of the city and wait until something suspicious happens, and then investigate and attack whatever hideout the criminals might be using. Did you perhaps eliminate Stavros' men and stop his nefarious plans at some point? Maybe, who knows.

Thanks to your mirrored knife you manage to see how one of the intruders attempts to sneak its way around your cover, he's slowly advancing and hiding behind furniture while being careful of making no noise, but you are too keen and see him coming from a mile away. You try to feign ignorance and the moment the intruder attempts to jump and attack you he quickly finds out that were fully prepared. As he jumps over your flipped desk you move away and send a punch straight into its nose followed by a powerful hook right into its jaw. It's true that you entered the guard as a scrawny kid, but you grew over the years and ultimately became a mighty and imposing figure, and despite being kind of old nowadays there's still a lot of fight inside of you. Your punches are so brutal that you feel your attacker's nose and jaw bones break against your hardened knuckles, it's a strange sensation feeling someone's bones breaking under your fists, but its a sensation that you have felt many times before, it even kind of feels soothing for someone as broken as you.

After the two punches you easily grab the confused and dazed attacker and turn him into a human shield.

Fight's in your favour now.

> The intruder seems to have several grenades on him. Pull all of the pins and kick him towards your other enemies, then take cover and hope that the explosion kills them all.
> Grab the intruder's machinegun and open fire upon your enemies. Then finish your him off with a clean shot to the head.
> Use the intruder as a meatshield and dash past your enemies and towards your exit door. Try to leave them behind and run towards the parking lot where your car is located.
> Other options, write in.
>>
>>5021660

Let's keep some of those grenades, but toss one out.

Then we grab the machine gun and let loose?
>>
>>5021660
>> The intruder seems to have several grenades on him. Pull all of the pins and kick him towards your other enemies, then take cover and hope that the explosion kills them all.
>>
>>5021660
>> Use the intruder as a meatshield and dash past your enemies and towards your exit door. Try to leave them behind and run towards the parking lot where your car is located.
>>
>>5021660
> Grab the intruder's machinegun and open fire upon your enemies. Then finish your him off with a clean shot to the head.
>>
>>5021660
>Grab the intruder's machinegun and open fire upon your enemies. Then finish your him off with a clean shot to the head.

Hopefully we can keep some decent firepower after looting these shitheads
>>
>>5021660
>> The intruder seems to have several grenades on him. Pull all of the pins and kick him towards your other enemies, then take cover and hope that the explosion kills them all.
>>
Good morning guys, just woke up. Hope you all are enjoying the quest!

There's a tie between using the grenades and the machinegun. And since >>5021668 wanted to do a mix of both I'll go with that.

Next update soon.
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>>5022166
I'm fine with that.

I wanted to throw a grenade after we suppress them.
>>
>>5021660
> Grab the intruder's machinegun and open fire upon your enemies. Then finish your him off with a clean shot to the head.
> The intruder seems to have several grenades on him. Pull all of the pins and kick him towards your other enemies, then take cover and hope that the explosion kills them all.

You firmly grab your human shield and put your pistol's end on his temple. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight..." You then start whispering under your breath as you count the number of intruders.

A total of ten shitheads broke into your home and attempted to kill you. One of them is already dead, his brains and blood splattering your walls, there are another eight hiding and covering under your furniture or standing still and aiming their powerful auto-guns at you, and then there's the bleeding and dazed loser that you are using as a shield.

"Screw this!" You then scream as you holster your gun in your back and grab your shield's autogun.

As you open fire a thunderous barrage of projectiles erupt from your weapon and in an instant hundreds of bullets fly and explode violently on impact, shattering walls, splintering furniture and cracking glass. Four of your attackers die on the spot and fall down, several of them on their death throes accidentally press the triggers of their own guns and also send barrages of bullets as they fall down, adding even more chaos to the already cacophonous mess. The attackers hiding behind cover raise their weapons and start shooting blindly.

"On a normal day I drop hundreds of fools like you!"

Unable to fire back you go all in and grab several of your shield's grenades, remove their pins and throw them towards the areas where your enemies are covering. The explosions are violent and cause several fires to erupt and forms dozens of wide and deep cracks on your walls and ceiling. As the fire and the smoke clear out the lights go out leaving everything covered in a thick blanket of darkness, it looks like your flat won't be able to hold for much longer. The darkness doesn't last for long, in the distance you hear the sound of Arbiters sirens, behind you several police zeppelins start to approach and aim their powerful spotlights towards your windows, filling your decrepit flat in red, blue and white stroboscopic lights.
>>
>>5022220

The punk that you are using as a shield is now wheezing painfully, it seems like the explosions of the grenades didn't kill him outright. You look at him and see his face and body covered in painful burn marks, dozens of small cuts and countless pieces of shrapnel lodged on his skin. With a gentle push you break him free and after grabbing your pistol put a bullet on the back of his head. The guy falls to the floor like a ragdoll, the lights on his eyes quickly fading out. Honestly you would have preferred to shoot him in the guts and have him suffer a slow death, but with the Arbiters incoming that might be too risky, they could perhaps end saving his life and interrogating your name out of him, better if there isn't any witness around.

If everything goes right there's a pretty small chance of having the Arbiters on your back. The flat you were living in wasn't yours to begin with, it was a an empty abandoned residence in the bad side of town that you found after your old home was also breached and attacked. There's no paper trail that could tell them that you were in any way related to you. Surely this incident will simply be classified as a gang attack and be quickly forgotten about.

As you are about to grab your things and leave suddenly from the darkness a figure emerges and lunges at you. One of your attackers survived, if only barely. You cannot see much with the darkness and the sudden blinding lights of the incoming police airships. Only by mere inches you manage to move away and dodge his violent attack. The attacker then smirks and gets in position to duel you.

"Alright...let's finish this!" You then say as you too raise your fists and get ready to fight.

> Try to make him believe that you are going to punch him but instead simply quickly grab your pistol and gun him down. There is no honor among criminals after all.
> You live in the 1044th floor. Push him towards one of the many shattered windows of your flat and send him screaming onto the floor below. There's no way anyone could survive something like that.
> It's been a long time since you have pummelled someone to death. You are itching for a good fist fight. Fight honourably.
> Return to your cover and grab your knives and molotovs, use the blade and the bottle as weapons and stab him dozens of times.
> Other options, write in.
>>
kek, wtf is this premise, I'm in
gonna bag some guys, Empreror forgive us
>>
>>5022222

> Try to make him believe that you are going to punch him but instead simply quickly grab your pistol and gun him

Long years in the Guard would suggest that we've learned to fight dirty
>>
>>5022227
Too many quests about Space Marines and Imperial Guard, I wanted to try something different.

Enjoy the stay!
>>
Rolled 73 (1d100)

>>5022229

Here's my roll
>>
>>5022230
So it's like an underhive scum quest with an *Aestetic*?
cool
>>
>>5022232
> So it's like an underhive scum quest with an *Aesthetic*?
Kind off, I still don't know if it will be only focused on the shady deals of the underhive. Maybe our protagonist might go off world at some point. That would be cool.
>>
>>5022222
>Try to make him believe that you are going to punch him but instead simply quickly grab your pistol and gun him down. There is no honor among criminals after all.
This is some good shit, QM.
>>
>>5022222
> Try to make him believe that you are going to punch him but instead simply quickly grab your pistol and gun him down. There is no honor among criminals after all.


(Nice fuckin' digits.)
>>
>>5022222
> Try to make him believe that you are going to punch him but instead simply quickly grab your pistol and gun him down. There is no honor among criminals after all.

The Adeptus Arbiter zeppelins are getting closer and closer, from their booming vox-casters they scream messages of compliance directed to the many inhabitants of your decrepit hab-block. "CITIZENS OF HAB-BLOCK R//2286-SIGMA-HEX! STAND AGAINST THE FLOOR IN COMPLIANCE WITH THE ADEPTUS ARBITERS AND THE IMPERIAL LAW! NON COMPLIANCE WILL BE CONSIDERED A SEVERELY PUNISHED CRIME AGAINST THE IMPERIUM AS A WHOLE!"

You smirk at your foe and raise your fists. You have punched and knocked more than enough enemies, traitor and alien alike, you have seen and felt your skin peel off until nothing but bare bone remained more times than you can count. This chump should be easy enough.

Around you more babies start to cry, you can hear people shuffling and moving all around, most obey and lie on the floor, a few hurriedly try to hide their shady dealings and contraband. It won't be long until they rappel down and come guns blazing to raid your home and all the nearby flats.

Your foe screams and lunges at you, the moment he jumps you step towards him, quickly grab your pistol and press it on his stomach, then with your left arm grab his shoulder and start pushing as hard as you can as you empty your pistol's magazine at point blank. Your enemy has a thick and hard armor, but so many bullets fired so quickly and from such a short distance manage to break his defenses. As more and more bullets enter on his guts he starts to weaken and starts puking blood.

With a scream you push his heavy body towards one of the many broken windows and defenestrate him onto the floor below. With a painful scream you see him fall like a ragdoll until it falls onto one of the many highways below. It's hard to say if he survived or not, soon a dozen cars run over him until he's nothing but a red paste smeared over the road.

This place isn't safe anymore. You have to run.

In this massive building not all of the floors are dedicated to hab-blocks, some are parking lots connected to the highways, entire shopping centers, hospitals, factories of all kinds, train stations... There are many ways for you to hide and run.

> Go to the 1107th floor where your car is located. You are still late for work after all.
> The entirety of the 873th floor is a train station, it is surely being patrolled by the Arbiters. Go to the 874th floor, broke into a house and jump into a passing train.
> Go to the roof on the 1500th floor and see if there is any passing zeppelin that you can jump onto.
> Other options, write in.
>>
>>5022544
>The entirety of the 873th floor is a train station, it
is surely being patrolled by the Arbiters. Go to the 874th floor, broke into a house and jump into a passing train.
>>
>>5022544
>> Go to the 1107th floor where your car is located. You are still late for work after all.
>>
>>5022565

Get to our car!
>>
>>5022544
> Go to the 1107th floor where your car is located. You are still late for work after all.
Would be funny if we ended up taxiing a arbiter back to the station due to car troubles.
>>
>>5022544
>> The entirety of the 873th floor is a train station, it is surely being patrolled by the Arbiters. Go to the 874th floor, broke into a house and jump into a passing train.
>>
>>5022544
>Go to the 1107th floor where your car is located. You are still late for work after all.
>>
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>>5022544
>Go to the 1107th floor where your car is located. You are still late for work after all.

This is proving to be an odd day. First you get attacked by assassins and then only mere minutes later the Adeptus Arbites appear? It's all too coincidental, normally the Arbitrators only appear to deal with the biggest of crimes, with stuff that threatens the Imperium as a whole, a mere shootout inside of a flat shouldn't even be of their concern, and should instead be dealt by the local authorities.

Quickly you loot the corpses and take one of their autoguns, several magazines of ammo, and a couple of frag grenades. These guys had no wallets on themselves, so unfortunately no money or any identifiers of any kind.

With your new gear in hand you rush out of your office and head into one of the many elevator shafts. You are on the 1044th floor, your car is on the 1107th, that's 63 floors of difference. You could go upstairs but there's a high risk of encountering some arbitrator patrols on the way up, and seeing as you are covered in blood and wielding heavy weapons there's no way you can avoid their gaze. You could too enter into one of the many elevators and simply go up, but surely seeing as the Arbiters are about to raid and quarantine several floors you risk having them remotely block the elevators and end trapped in there.

"There's always another way." You then whisper to yourself as you find a half broken elevator door and completely rip it away.

Carefully you look down the shaft and see nothing but darkness for miles, with a smirk you throw your lho-stick down there and quickly see its fading light disappear. With a grunt you grab a nearby service ladder and start climbing up. This ladder was made for repairs, but it looks like it hasn't been used in centuries, a great deal of rust, dust and spiderwebs cover it now. As you climb up several small bugs start to swarm your arms, almost making you lose your balance and fall down, you feel the small insects crawling under your sleeves and clothes, biting your skin and trying to burrow under your bandages to enter your body via your open wounds, but there's nothing you can do. You simply power through it and continue going up. On your ascension you start to hear cries, shotgun blasts, doors being kicked out and Arbitrators screaming orders, the raid has begun.

You are still trying to make sense of all of this. The shootout shouldn't have warranted an Arbites raid, and even if it did, there was no way they could have arrived so soon. This was a trap, someone wanted you dead, and tried its damn best to make sure that you were murdered, either by the assassins, or by the Arbitrators.

Whoever is behind all this, it must be a powerful person, having the power to control the Adeptus Arbiter is something that only the mighty powerful can afford.
>>
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>>5023348

Finally you reach the 1044th floor and enter in the parking lot where your car is located. Your arms are completely cramped and full of small bleeding bite marks. With a smirk you grab a handful of the bugs that have made your ascent hell and without a second thought shove them into your mouth and eat them all. Both as a revenge of some sort, and also because you were hungry and haven't eaten breakfast yet.

It seems that you have managed to escape, there is no Arbites presence in this floor. You clean yourself of the bugs and head out to search for your beloved taxi car.

Quickly you stride towards it and enter inside, the first thing you do is look in the glove compartment and check that you have enough bullets, then you rummage around and grab an old and moldy sandwich and a bottle of bourbon and quickly gulp them down to get that nasty spider flavor from your mouth.

You sigh in a mixture of relief and tiredness, you are happy for having escaped alive, but you are also exhausted of being forced to move from one side to another. In the ten years that you have been in this hive you have moved twelve times. This makes finding clients really hard, because nowadays most people don't even know where you live. Well, today after work you'll have to search for a new empty and abandoned place to settle in. Such is life.

With disgust you throw the empty bourbon bottle and turn on the radio. Honestly you don't even know why do you drink anymore, at first you did it to drown your sorrows, but these bastards learned how to swim.

The engine rumbles and you head out into one of the many exits that connects with the elevated highways that run above the busy streets. Luckily you foresaw that at some point you might get in trouble with the corrupted police force of the Hive, that's why you installed an illegal radio on your car that allows you to tap onto their encrypted radio channels and that way be able to know where they are at all times.
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>>5023350

As you head into the busy highways you cannot avoid noticing the sepia tinted picture of a dame in your car, next to your ashtray. This woman doesn't exists, not anymore.

You once fell in love during one of your deployments, you were 20 years old, it happened on a campaign against the Orks in the Agri-World of Salvia-Terra. After three years of constant fighting the Guard managed to drive the green menace away, and you and the rest of the troops were allowed a week of rest while the ships in high orbit were being refuelled and prepared to sail towards its next battlefield. During this short time each one of you were treated like heroes, feast were prepared, parties were made... and the last day, a particularly generous and wealthy merchant invited you to his home for a dinner. The merchant introduced you to his daughter, and wondered if you wanted to marry her. The dame was everything that you wanted in a woman, you got yo meet her deeply, to make love to her, and eventually agreed to the merchant's wishes and privately got married, only hours before you had to be deployed again.

You have forgotten her name, now you wonder if she's still alive, if you have a son or daughter somewhere among the stars, or if she's real and not just a figment of your imagination. The woman on this picture isn't real, you made it with a cogitator, you simply described to the machine how she looked like and then a printer spewed the final result. This machine was originally designed to created posters for people that had disappeared or were wanted by the law. Perhaps you are one of the few folk that used it for something else.

As you always do at the start of the day you take the picture and softly kiss it, you have been doing this for years already, the picture is starting to fade now.

"Maybe I’ll live so long that I’ll forget her. Maybe I’ll die trying." You whisper as you enter the busy highway and leave your condemned hab-block behind.

You thought you had been able to escape your problems, but truth is that for someone like you that's an impossible task. Suddenly you feel a cold pistol pressing against your head. It doesn't feel like metal, it's a strange material. Someone somehow has managed to enter in the rear seat of your car and was waiting for you there, it must have been an extremely stealthy person, after so many years being persecuted by hive scum you have developed very keen senses, and its really hard to catch you off guard.
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>>5023352

You try to glimpse at the rear mirror but whoever is behind senses your intentions and with blinding speed stabs the mirror with a sword, destroying it in a thousand pieces.

"Drive." It then says with a crystalline and echoing voice.

You nod and accelerate and suddenly see red, white and blue lights flashing behind you.

"Fucking hell."

That’s life. Whichever way you turn, fate sticks out a foot to trip you. Somehow the highway patrols have found you, perhaps thanks to intel provided the Arbites, whoever is behind you they really want you dead. These cars pursuing you are no mere vehicles, they were designed to be the fastest thing on the highway, while also being durable as hell and impervious to small fire arm.

The Highway Hunters are no joke.

> This particular highway section runs next to a railway. Slam against the rockrete barriers and jump down to the train tracks.
> Slam the rear side of nearby cars to make them lose control and have them slam against the Highway Hunters
> If you are taken so is whoever is threatening you with a gun. Ask her to offer you fire support to deal with the Highway Hunter.
> Other options, write in.
>>
>>5023354

> If you are taken so is whoever is threatening you with a gun. Ask her to offer you fire support to deal with the Highway Hunter.

"Look, I'm guessing that you don't want to enjoy Arbites hospitality any more than I do. Be a pal and create some distractions?"
>>
>>5023443
Seems like most of my players are american, so it will still be a while until they wake up and vote for the next action.

In the meanwhile, please tell me: Are you enjoying the quest? Do you like the pictures? Do you have any critiques or suggestions?

And thanks for playing! You are the ones that make this possible.
>>
>>5023450

This quest sort of reminds me of the old /tg/ ones, and that's a good thing. You have a clear narrative angle here in an established setting, you're willing to put in some good effort on updates and from a plot angle, you're keeping things moving quickly.

If you haven't run a quest before, I'd say this is a great first outing. Pictures are always a huge plus.

Probably only suggestion would be to clarify our dice mechanics. Do we have true stats here, or just bonuses based on our background and equipment? Either is fine.
>>
>>5023457
First of all, thanks for the input!

> This quest sort of reminds me of the old /tg/ ones, and that's a good thing.
Ironically enough my first quest started in /tg/ and was also about Warhammer 40k. It was called Novice Heretek Quest, it was an absolute mess. I loved it.

> You have a clear narrative angle here in an established setting, you're willing to put in some good effort on updates and from a plot angle, you're keeping things moving quickly.
Thanks, I really appreciate that. I know how boring and dragging slow quest can be, specially if they have few updates and those updates barely add any action or advance the narrative.

> If you haven't run a quest before, I'd say this is a great first outing.
This is like my... 5th or 6th quest I think? I started questing 8 years ago I believe. Oh god, I will never be able to escape this hellhole...

> Pictures are always a huge plus.
Questing and toying with photoshop has taught me more about image editing than 2 years of graphic design class lmao.

> Probably only suggestion would be to clarify our dice mechanics. Do we have true stats here, or just bonuses based on our background and equipment? Either is fine.
No stats, because I don't want to bloat the quest with numbers. Since this board is quite slow I think that asking for dice can make things drag forever. I will simply ask for 1d100's every now and then, and the higher you roll the more chances you have of succeeding. Perhaps this might be far too simple for some people, but it helps keeping things fast and moving.
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>>5023467

Completely agree with your logic on rolls. Low population here is sort of an adjustment from peak questing on /tg/. I remember Shadow Quest would seem to have 50-100 players for 12 hours a thread but that couldn't ever happen here I think.
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>>5023474
Not gonna lie, I miss those days. My quest in /tg/ was utter trash. I'm ESL, my first language is Spanish, and I remember that in that first quest my english was absolutely atrocious. And yet I could make around a 100 replies in a few hours easily.
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>>5023467
>Questing and toying with photoshop has taught me more about image editing than 2 years of graphic design class lmao.
I know that feel. You just don't have the same motivation for class as you do for something you enjoy and have fun doing.

> If you are taken so is whoever is threatening you with a gun. Ask her to offer you fire support to deal with the Highway Hunter.
>>
>>5023467
>Novice Heretek Quest
Sounds familiar....
Did we kill a female inquisitor in that?
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>>5023507
> Did we kill a female inquisitor in that?
Maybe, it's been pretty long since I wrote it, I don't remember everything, and re-reading would make me cringe to death.

I recall something about a female Inquisitor going mad and corrupting herself thanks to a mask made from a metal called Warpsteel. The mask reflected people's inner fears and was fucking terrifying, she used it for interrogations or something?

There was a commissar called Oihan, and a woman that we rescued nicknamed Lanky, she later became a Sister of Battle. The MC was a Techpriest called Heracor Nahive.

The main plot focused on Heracor being forcefully implanted a brain chip that made him into little more than a servitor, and one said chip suddenly breaking and having him recover its individuality. The MC then swore vengeance on the magos that did this to him and fucked off in some ship to fight for the Imperial Guard.

As he had more and more adventures he became stronger (and more bionic) and by the end of the quest he was strong enough to battle with Chaos Space Marines and win.

Does that ring a bell?

I also found a picture of the MC on my computer. Pic related.
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>>5023518
Ah yes, I remember, that's the one. God I hated that Inquisitor. Still think we should have ditched her at the cost of losing Lanky.
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>>5023518
I think I forgot or dropped the quest after a while due to IRL stuff so I only remember up to about 1/3 to roughly half way of following the quest.

Brb Gonna do some binging.
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>>5023354
>> If you are taken so is whoever is threatening you with a gun. Ask her to offer you fire support to deal with the Highway Hunter.
>>
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>>5023354
> If you are taken so is whoever is threatening you with a gun. Ask her to offer you fire support to deal with the Highway Hunter.

The woman threatening you is not part of the murderous retinue that is trying to finish you off, if it were she would have simply killed you when she had the chance.

"Look, I'm guessing that you don't want to enjoy Arbites hospitality any more than I do. Be a pal and create some distractions?" You then say, pressing the pedal to the metal and shifting gears to go far faster than the legal speed limit.

Grunting you then flip several switches and turn a small valve under your seat. Soon several highly flammable liquids enter into the car's bloodstream, the engine thunderously roars and its ten valves begin thumping like a stampede. Fire and sparks start to come out from your exhausts along with a massive and thick cloud of black and cancerous smoke.

The hijacker lowers one of the rear windows and proceeds to shoot at the incoming Highway Hunter. You were expecting to hear the all familiar bang of a powder weapon, perhaps the the all ubiquitous sharp blast of laser weaponry, or who knows... maybe even the sizzling noise of a plasma gun. But instead you heard a whistling noise, not dissimilar to a chiming flute and the whispering of the wind. Just who the hell is this woman?

From your rearview you suddenly witness a hundred of strange glass like projectiles slamming against the pursuing police car. The car's armor is thick enough to stop most of the projectiles but its wheels aren't so lucky, and soon enough the hyper-reinforced tires are destroyed and turned into little more than shredded rubber.
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>>5024077

Without feet to stand on the Highway Hunter quickly loses control and starts to wildly spin onto the hard concrete, sparks flying everywhere as the car flips violently and sends several civilian cars out of the highway and onto the city below. Despite its best effort the Hunter too ends crashing to its doom and falling onto an office building a hundred of feet below. It's impossible to calculate how many people died because of your actions, in the hundreds perhaps.

Your hijacker then closes the door and gives you a rectangular piece of paper, on its surface a neatly written street name. "Go here." She then whispers, her odd crystalline and echoing voice sending a spine chilling sensation across your entire body.

You leave the highway and descend onto the busy streets below. The endless crowds of people are both a curse and a blessing, right now you are at a constant risk of being attacked and hijacked, but among all of these people and cars your chances of being found by the local authorities have also become practically negligible.

Despite the sheer massive size of the Hive you know most if not all of the streets, corners or alleyways, and yet you have never heard of this street before. For moments like these you usually rely on your nav-cogitator, you simply write the street name and the handy pict-screen tells you where it is, how to go, and even the danger levels of the area. Carefully to not do any sudden movements you press the runes and write the name of the street on the device. While the computer does its techno-wizardry you simply drive idly without paying much attention to where you are going, you simply cannot stop the car for too long, doing so would be an invitation to be assaulted by streets gangs.

After a long wait the cog-navigator finally finishes skimming across its massive databases of streets and oddly enough it returns an error message, this street simply doesn't exists.

"This place-"

"Quiet." She interrupts. "We have arrived. Get out of the car."

Confused you look outside and see an empty street, this is... virtually impossible. There are no empty streets on the hive. You look at the street name and oddly enough see that it is indeed your destination. There's only one building here, which is also completely atypical on itself, and the building is... strange, it looks like regular imperial architecture, just another mile long building, but there's something unnerving to it... then as you leave your car it hits you, they are all too clean and in too good condition. There's no way that a building in such a low level of the hive could be so properly maintained and cleaned. Nothing here makes any sense.

"Move." She then says as she once more presses her strange weapon against your head. You raise your arms and walk towards the building. As you approach it its doors open ominously on their own, on the other side nothing but darkness as far as the eye can see.

Well, it looks like this is it. Your time has come.
>>
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>>5024079

You cross the boundary and quickly get plunged by the darkness. The woman pressing a gun against your head disappears as well, you are all alone. Then suddenly a strange and ethereal figure forms in front of you. It looks vaguely human and feminine, she is far taller than any woman that you have ever seen, and she doesn't moves or looks like she's wearing high heels. Whoever this lady is she has a strange sense of fashion, she wears an armor that covers her entire body and is made of what looks like bone and gold. Despite how heavy and clunky moving with such a piece of armor should be her movement are quick and fluid, almost dance like.

"Lawrence Falconus." She then says in a melodious voice, this voice is also crystalline and echoing, even more than the one from your kidnapper. "We... I believe that you are the person that we need, we are in grave danger, and so are you, so is everybody. Will you help us?"

> Ask questions, try to be gentle and polite. You don't know how many enemies might be hiding among the shadows.
> Grab your pistol and press it against this dame's forehead. Let's see how valuable this woman is for those people. You want information, and you want it now.
> Grab your pistol and press it against your temple. Let's see how much they really need you. You want information, and you want it now.
> Reject her offer, you have bills to pay and a lot of problems to solve of your own.
> Other options, write in.
>>
>>5024080

> Ask questions, try to be gentle and polite. You don't know how many enemies might be hiding among the shadows.

"You have me at a disadvantage, here. What's your name? Who are you working for? You must either be looking for a fall guy or be truly desperate to ask ME for help."
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>>5024080
> Grab your pistol and press it against your temple. Let's see how much they really need you. You want information, and you want it now.
> Other options, write in.
If you wanted my help you could have payed me some cash or asked nicely, both would have worked better than pointing a weapon at me while I'm running from two death squads and escaping on a highspeed chase.

*smoke a cig*
Who are you and who was that in my backseat who smashed my mirror?
How do I know I'm not falling for some elaborate ruse that'll bring danger to the hive or planet?
>>
>>5024145
Also ask, why they need our help when they've got that killer girl on their staff? What makes us so special that not anyone else can do it.
>>
Oh man, I was expecting more votes. I hope this quest isn't losing steam losing steam already. Anyway, writing now.
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>>5024935
Nevermind. I came from work tired as fuck and I just notiecd that I wrote "losing steam" twice. I don't think I'm awake enough to properly write the next update.

So yeah, next update tomorrow. Sorry.
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>>5024942
Its Monday morning, we'll afternoon now for most of us so wake up in a few hours and there will probably be more votes.
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>>5024080
>> Ask questions, try to be gentle and polite. You don't know how many enemies might be hiding among the shadows.
>>
>>
>>5024080
> Ask questions, try to be gentle and polite. You don't know how many enemies might be hiding among the shadows.
>"Finally, a Emperor Damned job."
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>>5024080
>> Grab your pistol and press it against this dame's forehead. Let's see how valuable this woman is for those people. You want information, and you want it now.
>>
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>>5024080
> Ask questions, try to be gentle and polite. You don't know how many enemies might be hiding among the shadows.

There's warp fuckery afoot. You can feel it. Whoever these people are they know how to dabble in the occult and conjure strange magics. This dame in front of you, or perhaps someone working for her, must be a psyker of some kind.

You have suffered greatly during your pitiful life, but still you are thankful to the emperor for not having been born as a psyker, for these poor wretched devils are the true sufferers of this realm and whatever realms might lie beyond death.

To be honest your experience with psykers has been very limited, but the little that you have witnessed has left you with a brooding scar in the deepest corners of your mind that will never hea. In the Guard psykers were treated more like walking weapons than people. They lived in pitiful cages and were fed the bare minimum and when the time was due they were simply deployed into the battlefields and let to unleash their powers. Many times the chaos of war killed them before they could do their wizardry, most of the enemies of the Imperium know how dangerous psykers can be and thus they always became prime targets and were quickly taken down. And even if they survived there was a very high chance of them being executed by the Commissars if they considered that their performance was not good enough... or if it was too effective. Still, as much as you disliked the brutal executions of the Commissars you have to admit that in the case of psykers they were more than justified. While battling some Kroot mercenaries you witnessed a poor psyker boy, no more than 12, become a conduit for hellish energies, he simply started to float and became as bright as a star before exploding and bathing everything around him in boiling and corrupted blood. Humans and Kroot alike were covered in his magic-tainted blood and started to wildly mutate as they became savage spawns that attacked anyone regardless of their original loyalties. It was utter madness.

Your hands start to tremble, magic makes you feel unease.

"You have me at a disadvantage, here. What's your name? Who are you working for?... Also, can I smoke here?"

The stranger nods softly, almost as if expecting you to make these questions. You light up another lho-stick and blow the smoke away from her.

"It's understandable that you have questions." She replies. "I will be honest with you, I have nothing to hide. I am Farseer Elyadien. My home is the Craftworld of Ulthwé."

Despite your best intentions to keep your composure you cannot avoid getting tense and feeling angry. On your many years fighting traitors and aliens you have never encountered the Eldar, but you have heard many tales about their deceptive and lying nature.
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>>5025858

"Eldar? What are you doing here? You must either be looking for a fall guy or be truly desperate to ask ME for help." You then say.

Elyadien nods again, not in agreement with your words, but as if once more she was seemingly expecting this outcome.

"Desperate, yes, in a sense. Have you been tortured before?... no, don't answer, your mind is an open book, I can see that you have been indeed captured and tortured in your past. Teeth pulling, burning needles under your nails, iron branding, bone breaking, electroshocks in your genitals...You... stood stoic and never revealed secrets. Impressive, but your torture was nothing compared with what I had to endure. Abuse caused by humans to other humans pales in comparison with the torment that the Drukhari inflict upon their own non-fallen kin."

That doesn't explains much, you can barely make any sense of what she's saying, so you stay quiet and let her continue with her xeno-ramblings.

"While under torture I saw glimpses of the future, I saw this terrible planet, and I saw you... and between screams I muttered your name. It was a very faint whisper, but loud enough for me to remember... and for them to hear."

"Who's them?"

"Drukhari, working with the nobility of this world."

You cannot avoid but chuckle and roll your eyes. "You really want me to believe that?"

"Your name was muttered during my torture, the Drukhari reported it to the nobles they are working with, and then the nobility sent the assassins and Arbitrators to hunt you down. We still don't know why they are working together."

"How do I know I'm not falling for some elaborate ruse that'll bring danger to the hive or planet?"

The Farseer then clapped her hands, she looked nervous, its as if she knew this moment was about to happen but still wanted it to never come. With a silent sigh she then removed her helmet, revealing behind an alien face with no skin or pupils. Despite never having seen an Eldar before you are certain that this is not how she should look like.

"Know for sure that this planet is in dire danger. The Drukhari captured me and several of my kin, and during our torture they took our faces and our most sacred possessions from us, and now they have traded them with the nobles in exchange of some unknown service or resource. My people have been hurt, they don't want a direct confrontation, they have sent me to this world to recover what was taken from us, but if retrieval is impossible then a full on war will be inevitable. Eldar and Human corpses alike will line these streets, blood will flow like a river, and at the end, neither the Nobles nor the Drukhari will suffer for their actions."

You finish smoking the stick and immediately light up another one.
>>
>>5025865

"Why do you really need my help? You've got that killer girl to fight your battles. What makes us so special that not anyone else can do it?"

"Catriath Vann, yes, she's an excellent Guardian, but we cannot do this alone. The future is uncertain and nearly impossible to discern, but there are fateful threads in the constantly shifting currents of time that are easier to see. All the futures where we don't establish contact with you ultimately lead to catastrophe for both species."

She then put her helmet back, she looked in pain while it was out, perhaps the helmet itself acts like a life support of some kind and she cannot be without it for long.

"Even if that were true. If you wanted my help you could have paid me some cash or asked nicely, both would have worked better than pointing a weapon at me while I'm running from two death squads and escaping on a high speed chase."

"Perhaps... but would you have accepted the pleas of an alien? And believe me, if this catastrophe gets averted you will be handsomely rewarded. Would you like to be returned to your homeworld, perhaps be back with that woman you married? We could make it possible."

"How... how do you know all of this?"

"As I said...you are an open book."

Suddenly a blinding light erupts from all the directions and before you can notice it you are back at the wheel of your taxi car. Sitting next to you and covered in concealing robes is the Farseer, in the seats behind and wearing a similar costume is Catriath Vann, the Eldar Guardian that saved you from the Highway Hunter.

"What...what happened?"

"We had to know if you were to be trusted. You haven't entered any building, instead the moment that you read that piece of paper you were hypnotised and your mind was transported to a mindscape that we made to allow us to meet and parlay without any outside interference. In the realspace you have been simply idly driving without any clear direction."
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>>5025872


"Was... was any of that real? What about the assassins, the Arbitrators...the Highway Hunter."

"That was very much real." The guardian behind you says as she reloads her alien weapon. "We knew they were coming. We simply observed and stood behind. We had to be sure that you could defend yourself."

Things are pretty hard, but that's just how you like 'em. You are wanted by the law, you are travelling with two highly illegal aliens, and you know nothing about the Drukhari or what their intentions are, and on top of that you also have to deal with the local nobility, and of course you have no access to the higher areas and the spires of the Hive where they live.

There's many ways you could start investigating. Despite being exiled from the Imperial Guard you managed to get a fake veteran's ID that lets you access to one of the Hive's many veteran halls. Get in there and ask around about Drukhari. See if any of the veterans know about them, and perhaps garner what their intention might be. Maybe you could also go to the shady dive bars of the underhive and ask around, despite living on the bottom of the barrel these folk have eyes and ears all around the Hive and there isn't anything that escapes their gaze. Lastly, there's the high risk-high reward option of sneaking inside the Palace of Law, the Adeptus Arbites headquarters and then deleting the price put on your head and also get valuable information about the dealings of the nobles with the xenos, normally attempting such a thing would be utter suicide, but who knows, perhaps with the Farseer's powers it might be feasible.

"Finally, a Emperor Damned job." You then mutter as you light up another lho-stick.

> Get information about the Drukhari in the veteran's hall.
> Get information on the underhive's shady dive bars.
> Get information on the Palace of Law.
> Other options, write in.
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>>5025874
Seems like taking care of the Arbites would help long term.
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>>5025874
> Get information about the Drukhari in the veteran's hall.

You plan on actually running this or is it gonna get dropped?
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>>5025919
>You plan on actually running this or is it gonna get dropped?
Fuck off. I plan to run it until the end.
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>>5025922
Why so hostile
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>>5025923
It aint polite to ask someone if they plan to leave something unfinished and quit like a pussy.
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>>5025926
...you dropped the journal quest and submarine one was just a short. Also I'm not calling you anything.
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>>5025929
>...you dropped the journal quest and submarine one was just a short. Also I'm not calling you anything.
Yeah, sorry, I have a short temper.

The journal quest I was simply not feeling it, trust me I also disliked dropping it, and the submarine one was a short oneshot. It ended, c'est fini.
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>>5025933
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>>5025874
> Other options, write in.
Bribe a hacker or specialist to delete our info or Pay a Information broker to give us info.
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>>5025874
>> Get information on the underhive's shady dive bars.
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>>5026247

Seems to me that Falconus might this through like so:

1. Nobles are mostly sinful degenerates with money.
2. Degenerates like to use drugs.
3. Nobles would never want to do the dirty work of finding their own drugs, so they'd get pretty criminals to do this.
4. If we find the petty criminals, we can work backwards to find the nobles trying to kill us.
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>>5025874
>Get information on the underhive's shady dive bars.
>>
Sorry for the delay, been a pretty busy day. Gonna get into writing now.
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>>5025874
> Get information on the underhive's shady dive bars.

There's an odd shimmering around your car, it isn't like the shimmering hot air that the many Hive vents and chimneys exude, but a strange and magic glittering shimmer.

"I'm making your vehicle harder to detect." The Farseer then says as if reading your mind, something which might be very much possible. "It isn't invisible, just easier to ignore and shrug off by the forces after us."

You snort as you blow cancerous grey smoke from your nostrils. "Even if the car is harder to detect the Arbitrators will still be actively looking for a yellow taxi, and who knows, they might have received special training to be less subjective to your Eldar mind tricks. We should drive to the deeper levels underhive, there should be less police activity down there."

The Guardian in the rear seat grunts and shakes her head. "The nobility lives in the upper spires of this wretched monument to mon-keigh hubris. Why should we go deep, when our enemies are high?"

In silence you shift gears and start driving towards the lower levels, the more you descend the darker and more damp the streets become.

"We need information, and the people we seek live at the bottom of the Hive, besides going up there right now is an absolute suicide. The nobles will have all kind of manpower, protections and defences on their side, we need to think of a plan."

The Guardian skulks in her seat and simply looks away, the Farseer continues quiet.
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>>5027340

The underhive is literally located under the sea level, it too has rain, but this rain isn't clean like the one that the people in the surface receives, this one has been mixed with all of the detritus and toxicity of the upper city, on top of that the underhive is in constant danger of being flooded by the surrounding toxic oceans. If it gets flooded then entire city will lose its buoyancy and like an anchor it will simply sink down, and not even the people in the highest of the spires will be high enough to escape.

To stop the never ending threat of being flooded every day T4R-TROOPS, or "Goop Squads" as they are colloquially known, travel to the lower levels and using industrial hoses and pumps and specially modified vehicles cover entire neighborhoods and their whole populations in deadly black tar to fill whatever holes might have formed in the rusty outer hulls. The black tar that these Squads use is highly toxic, and that's why no regular human fulfils this role and instead servitors are used, since the servitors are barely human there's no negotiating or bartering with them, the moment they appear they simply do their task in silence with mechanical efficiency and pay no mind to all the people that might be killed by their actions. They are so hated that many times truces have been formed among local gangs to team up and fight them together, but not even their combined forces can stop them. For every Goop Servitor that is killed the people in the upper level send another two, It's an impossible battle. Over the centuries the locals simply learned to live with it and have adapted their own lifestyle to better survive in this Emperor-forgotten shithole. The fear of being suddenly assaulted by a Goop Squad has left most of the underhive an empty wasteland with very few settlements and mostly nomadic tribes and gangs that travel from one side to another, battling each other and feeding upon the trash that the upper levels dump down here.

Still, not everything is bad, among this desert of rusty scrap lies a small oasis of peace and civilisation. The "Belly of the Beast", an important trading hub that its considered more or less neutral ground by all the different houses, gangs and tribes. The Belly of the Beast is located the centre of the underhive, which makes it far away enough from any of the outer walls to never be visited by the Goop Squads, and thus one of the few safe areas around.
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>>5027343

You dislike travelling to the Belly of the Beast, most of the people down there have friends, lovers or family members that you have personally hunted or killed. Luckily for you the enforced neutrality of the area gives you a certain freedom and safety.

After a long descent you finally reach the place: It is little more than a gigantic scrapyard built on top of a massive lake composed of toxic and bubbling acid. The lake is the result of millions of gallons of chemical waste produced by the upper Hive and its many factories, originally this waste was safely pumped and dumped into the ocean but its high corrosive properties ultimately destroyed every pipe that transported it, and since then it has been being directly poured in the Underhive, it has been more than two thousand years since then.

When the acid corrodes something it evaporates and become mere smoke, so to avoid having it pile up and cause heavy and catastrophic damage upon the Hive's outer hull the underhive locals throw as much trash as they can upon the lake. Fortunately for them the upper levels dump thousands of tons of trash every day, so much trash in fact that ultimately they had enough to build a city on top of it.

In fact, as you drive you witness several hatches opening at the ceiling, and from them massive piles of falling trash. It won't be long until the local gangers send scouts to check what of it can be useful for themselves, the rest will be used to build upon the city that is the Belly of the Beast. Every time that you visit the place looks different, the people that currently live close to the acid lake soon will build upon the top, and whoever is now living in the upper areas of the scrapyard in a week will live at the bottom, such is life around here.
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>>5027345

You are worried about coming here. The underhives are home to the most wretched scum that this planet can conjure, mutants and criminals of the worst kind live among these enclosed walls. Despite these areas being riffle with people covered in crude and horrific bionics and genetic deviations of the sacred human form your two companions still stand out, it won't be long until someone finds out and reveals that they are xenos, and if that happens not even the worst of the Hive will be fine with that. The neutrality of the Belly applies to humans only, animals and xenos are still free game.

You park your car and activate a special electro-fulgurite defense mechanism, to avoid car theft this highly illegal yet highly useful device will shock anyone that isn't you to death. It isn't weird for you to leave your car parked somewhere to piss and by the time you return find one or two heavily charred corpses close to your car. If your calculations are right it must have killed about a hundred people already. The two Eldar get off as well, magic and strange techno-wizardry hiding their appearances in plain sight, even for you its hard to look at them, and when your eyes meets them for some reason your gaze simply moves away to focus on something else.

"Time to work..." You say as you leave your car.

> Try stir a revolution and storm the upper spires. Convince them that if you kidnap a few nobles they might change the Goop Squads so they don't indiscriminately massacre people anymore.
> Check in the black markets for a upper spire access and a convincing Arbitrator costume and ID, it won't come in cheap, but it might prove incredibly useful.
> Talk with the spies and information traffickers of the underhive's bars. See what they know.
> Other options, write in.
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>>5027349

> Talk with the spies and information traffickers of the underhive's bars. See what they know.

And then after that, let's try to scam a ID and outfit.

No point in staging a revolution, these people are already doomed.
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>>5027349
>> Try stir a revolution and storm the upper spires. Convince them that if you kidnap a few nobles they might change the Goop Squads so they don't indiscriminately massacre people anymore.
>>
>>5027349
> Try stir a revolution and storm the upper spires. Convince them that if you kidnap a few nobles they might change the Goop Squads so they don't indiscriminately massacre people anymore.
Fuck it, legalize chaos.
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>>5027349
>> Try stir a revolution and storm the upper spires. Convince them that if you kidnap a few nobles they might change the Goop Squads so they don't indiscriminately massacre people anymore.
Only thing you have to lose is your chains or your life
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>>5027349
> Try stir a revolution and storm the upper spires. Convince them that if you kidnap a few nobles they might change the Goop Squads so they don't indiscriminately massacre people anymore.
> Talk with the spies and information traffickers of the underhive's bars. See what they know.
> Other options, write in.
See if we can pump acid to the upper or higher levels from the lake, look for information and material that might make it possible.
>>
Hey guys. Sorry for the delays. Something came up so I'll be really busy until Monday.

Thanks for understanding and your patience.
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>>5029903
dw bout it
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>>5027349
> Try stir a revolution and storm the upper spires. Convince them that if you kidnap a few nobles they might change the Goop Squads so they don't indiscriminately massacre people anymore.
> Talk with the spies and information traffickers of the underhive's bars. See what they know.

You park the car in the acid lake's outskirts and flip several switches, some of them pretty well hidden, and afterwards introduce a complex set of alphanumerical runes in a keyboard next to your steering wheel. The moment you and your companions leave the car the entire thing will become an incredibly powerful electric deathtrap. It wouldn't be the first time that you park your car to eat some grub or take a leak and return to it only to find several burnt corpses on the ground. This nifty yet highly illegal device is the main reason as of why you have earned a nasty yet powerful reputation in the Hive's lower levels.

Everybody gets out, you holster your trusty pistol under your armpit and put the stolen autogun in your back, you look like a though son of a bitch, just the way you like it, the Eldar on the other hand look pretty inconspicuous, they continue wearing robes that hide their features and using strange magics that cover them in a shimmering and glittering aura that is simply hard to look at. Even for someone like you it's pretty difficult to set your eyes on them, the moment you do your gaze simply starts drifting away into something else. It's as if these two xenos were the most uninteresting things in the galaxy. You should ask the Farseer about this nifty little trick, it would come very handy in your criminal investigations.

Once more you light a lho-stick and head into the bowels of the Hive. Together you three cross a rusty catwalk that dangerously hangs above the acid pits. This Belly of the Beast is a pyramid made from surface trash, the people you need to talk to are on the top.
>>
>>5031614

Covering your mouth and nose you enter the lower levels, as soon as you enter a swarm of beggars approach you three begging for food or money. This area is the worst of the worst, only the most mutated and wretched among the already decrepit population of the underhive live here. The proximity to the acid lake creates dangerous and noxious vapors that can cause mutations, painful and bloody skin rashes and horrifying pulmonary diseases that can cause slow and agonising deaths. The people here have nowhere else to go, they are too inhuman to be accepted in the surface, and outside of the belly they are at risk of being killed by the Goop Squads, the Gangs, Enforcers or whatever mutant creature might roam among the ruins of the underworld. These poor devils are mostly used as slave work, cannon fodder or for petty crimes, many a times they cannot take it anymore and simply jump into the acid lake to become one with it, its not a pretty or quick death, they always go screaming. You pay them no mercy nor charity, doing so would only lengthen their horrific lives and delay their inevitable deaths one more day.

Together you ascend onto the middle of the pyramid, up here there are air purifiers and powerful electric fans that keep the air breathable and safer. Here are the city's most dangerous mercenaries, the most cunning of spies and thieves, and the best assassins that money can buy. Around here you are both respected and feared, despite having made the promise of following the righteous path you have found yourself down here many times, looking for dirty work and easy blood money to pay your neverending debt. You see many familiar faces, people that you have saved, people that you have fought, friends and family of folk you've killed. You are lucky that this place is considered neutral ground, otherwise you'd have been jumped and attacked long ago.

"Lord Pit wants to talk to you." A gentle yet incredibly dangerous Ogryn tells you. You know him, he's Gnash, a local mercenary, you have fought him many times, inside of his muscular body there must be at least fifty of your bullets still lodged in. Gnash could easily break you in two, but he respects the Lord of the Pit too much to dare doing anything of the like.
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>>5031615

The Pit Lord is the leader of this dumpster, he or she is the person at the top, to become the Lord you have to kill the current one, doesn't matter how. The Pit Lord's word is law here, he chooses what to do and how to shape this ever changing city. All of the gangs in here obey it no matter what. Every time that you have visited this trash heap you've met a different Pit Lord, they don't last long, you have seen Ogryn Pit-Lords that were killed with poisons, lithe assassin dames that were crushed to death with Power-Mauls... Pit Lords are an everchanging thing, just like this city...

You climb up and reach the Pit-Lord's throne. The throne is just a pile of treasures taken from the enemies of the surface, hundreds of Arbitrator helmets, many still with skulls inside, all piled up next to a mountain of spent bullet cases, empty power charges, and bent and broken robo-hound bodies. The current Pit-Lord is a wiry and weird looking man, you can't see his face, they all wear the same tacky helmet, the defaced and altered helmet of an Arbitrator.

Next to his throne are two Techpriests, they are chained to a metal bed frame, several cables and strange device connected to their bodies and the metal frame. As you approach the Pit-Lord presses a button and a powerful electric shock makes the Techpriests grimace in pain, from their bionics flames, smoke, sparks violently emanate, in the city below lights start to power up and down, it looks like the Pit-Lord is torturing them to power the city below.

"You called for me?" You ask, as you throw your lho-stick to the acid lake below.

"Falconus, the man of the moment." He then replies with a gravely and inhuman voice, whoever this man is, he's clearly a mutant. "You have caused quite the stir in the surface."

Then with the push a button he once more tortures the Techpriests, but in this occasion from the robotic eyes of one of them a powerful beam of white light comes out, its no mere light thought, its an hologram of the news casts that are being streamed on the surface. They all are talking about how dangerous you are, how high is the reward for your head, and how if you are not quickly captured the Inquisition might get involved.

"You know? None of my people I know has ever come close to reaching this bounty, hell, not even the entire city together would reach a fraction of what they are offering for your head. Bravo, bravo, what have you done boy?"

"I pissed off some Nobles, they are dealing with xenos, and despite their immense power their treacherous actions might send them to the gallows. They know that I know, and that's why they are sending everything they have after me."
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>>5031618

The Pit Lord then smells the air and smiles.

"I thought you came with two longshanks, and I thought to myself, hey... it's been pretty long since you last ate Longshanks' Long-pork. But then, I sniffed the air... and I noticed that your two companions aren't abhumans, they aren't even humans. You too are dealing with aliens. What's the deal with that?"

"My aliens hate the aliens that are dealing with the Nobles. Enemy of my enemy and all that crap. We are here looking for a way up, perhaps a convincing costume and an ID, something good, merely ascending would be pure suicide."

"Hah, I love it! Tell me what, you help me, and I help you. This city is sinking, and its sinking faster than it builds up. Sometimes we are lucky and we get a fresh drop of surface trash to build upon... but every day that's more and more rare. I think that the people on top got tired of us, so now they simply drop their trash onto the oceans. Perhaps they are hoping for us all to die in the acid. See these two cogheads? Took them from a Martian Church in the upper levels I did. Turns out that even cyborgs can be tortured, they told me all about the Noosphere and many secrets not made for feeble mind like ours. Thanks to their info I made a plan, we cannot fight the Goop Squads, they are simply too much, and even if we kill one of them the fuckers of the surface simply send another two. But now I know that they can be controlled like puppets. I'm planning of sending some gangs to capture some of those Servitors and hijack their brains. Turns out that their strange tar is resistant to the acid, with enough of them we will be able to cover the lake forever, make this city stay afloat for millennia to come... and perhaps, only perhaps, block drainage pipes that pour the acid down here. If that happens... well, the acid will simply pour somewhere else, surely on the surface, and the chaos that creates will be enough to keep the Arbitrators and other enforcers busy enough. Help me and not only I'll create chaos on the surface, but I'll also send every gang to destroy the world above them and I'll give you my best men so you can climb to the top and destroy those sons of bitches."

> Accept. After all this city tried to kill you. If the city is chaos then you'll have plenty of opportunities to finish your mission.
> You might not be a saint, but causing an all out war in the Hive might be too much. These people cannot be trusted, they are nothing but a bunch of psychopaths. Find another way.
> This is overkill. Go down and hire a group of mercenaries to do the job. You don't want anything to do with the Pit Lord.
> Other options, write in.
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>>5031619
>> Accept. After all this city tried to kill you. If the city is chaos then you'll have plenty of opportunities to finish your mission.
>>
>>5031724
>Accept. After all this city tried to kill you. If the city is chaos then you'll have plenty of opportunities to finish your mission
>>
>>5031619
>Accept. After all this city tried to kill you. If the city is chaos then you'll have plenty of opportunities to finish your mission.

“Fair enough.” You then say, on your back you feel the two aliens relax, if only slightly.

“You made the best choice, Falconus. Every Goop Squad has one or two Noospheric Links, they are servitors as well but carry no weapons, instead their bodies have been altered to interact with the invisible and untouchable Noosphere, they are easy to distinguish because they have very long, and complex antennae connected to their spines. The way they work is easy, the enforcers at the surface send their orders to the Links, and these then transmit them to the servitors around them. Your mission will be to travel with one of these Cogheads, approach and trap one of these Links and let the Sparkbox do its techno-magic so its falls under our control. Once we have enough of them, we will be able to overpower the Enforcer’s signal with our own, and the different Goop Servitors will be under our control. I don’t care how you approach the Goop Squads, be violent or be sneaky, but remember, we must capture the Links alive, and the Techpriests must survive as well. I’ll spread the word around, regardless of past actions and hatreds anyone down there will follow and obey your orders. Now leave, the city is sinking under our feet.”

With a push of a button one of the two tortured Techpriests is liberated, its robes are tattered and burnt, its bionics covered in blood and oil, rusted beyond belief and broken with heavy damage of all kinds on it. There isn’t much organic on him, but whatever is left now reeks of charred meat and burnt blood. Meekly the Techpriest limps towards you, with every one of its movements a shower of sparks flying from its inhuman joints.

> Go down and recruit ogryns, barbarians and warriors. Start a bloody battle with the Servitors and kill everything but the Links.
> Go down and recruit spies, scouts, and thieves. Make a cunning plan to kidnap one of these Link Servitors under their noses.
> Your two Eldar are more than enough. Get on your Taxi, drive fast and strike like lighting. Kidnap the Link Servitor before they can react.
> Other options, write in.
>>
>>5032255
> Your two Eldar are more than enough. Get on your Taxi, drive fast and strike like lighting. Kidnap the Link Servitor before they can react.
I don't think getting mooks involved is a good idea.
>>
>>5032255
> (If applicable) Check on the tech priest to see if you can fix him a little
> See if the mercs from the middle have any sniper rifles we can borrow for the hit
> Your two Eldar are more than enough. Get on your Taxi, drive fast and strike like lighting. Kidnap the Link Servitor before they can react.
Fuck it, we're the elite hitsquad. One autist, two aliens and a cybercripple.

Sorry for missing an update.
I already forgot how comfy is your proper writing.
>>
>>5032255
>Go down and recruit ogryns, barbarians and warriors. Start a bloody battle with the Servitors and kill everything but the Links.
Captcha : SAWYA
>>
>>5032255
>> Go down and recruit spies, scouts, and thieves. Make a cunning plan to kidnap one of these Link Servitors under their noses.
>>
> Your two Eldar are more than enough. Get on your Taxi, drive fast and strike like lighting. Kidnap the Link Servitor before they can react.
>>
>>5032255
> Go down and recruit spies, scouts, and thieves. Make a cunning plan to kidnap one of these Link Servitors under their noses.

They can either cause distractions or help us steal away a second link just in case. Better two than one right?
>>
>>5033899
Sounds like one link is enough for what they need them for, and besides, what do we care? It's our ass on the line, not the Pit Lord's.
>>
>>5034042
So we don't have to try again if we fail? I mean like if we happen to find two in the same location then why not?

Plus I doubt we would be so lucky as to do everything with just one.

I kind of feel bad for the cogbois
>>
Im having some trouble with my computer. Next update prolly tomorrow morning (gonna write it at work lel)
>>
>>5034069
Okay, fair point about getting multiple Links (my bad for not paying attention), but I still think we can get away without hiring extras.

>>5034210
Your dedication to the cause is an inspiration for us all, Axsisel.
>>
>>5032255
> Check on the tech priest to see if you can fix him a little
> See if the mercs from the middle have any sniper rifles we can borrow for the hit
> Your two Eldar are more than enough. Get on your Taxi, drive fast and strike like lighting. Kidnap the Link Servitor before they can react.

You look at the techpriest and pity him. After suffering what he suffered any baseline human would have died long ago, but his many bionics and the sparse humanity left on his body allowed him to survive. His metal skin is corroded with acid, his circuit lathes burnt with fire, his copper veins cut and torn, his gears broken and bent, his few organic parts bruised and tortured, and yet he still somehow breathes. Out of sympathy you attempt to help him by offering some bandages that you kept in your trenchcoat, but the priest rejects them with a soft shake of his skull looking metallic head, the bandages wouldn't do anything to him, he needs specialised help, something completely out of your reach. Still, he looks like he appreciates the gesture, he seems to understand that you too are nothing but a pawn dragged upon this great and terrible game.

Together you all descend upon the middle levels where the mercenaries live and work. You know that this is no mere job, this wont be like fighting gangers or mere criminal mooks, you are now playing in a different league and the Arbitrators and Hive Nobles will be absolute heavy hitters, if you want to survive you'll need to amp up your gear. As much as it pains you, you end managing to exchange your expensive lho-sticks and a bottle of Vostroyan Vodka that you kept in your coat in exchange of a mono-knife, a Sniper-Rifle and a handful of bullets. You are fortunate that good quality tobacco and booze are so rare and hard to find down here, otherwise you'd have been out of luck.

As you reach your car you find a couple of dead rats and some mutant beggars fried around your car, the rats might have approached by curiosity, but the beggars clearly attempted to steal your car. With disgust you kick the bodies into the acid lake and press a secret button under the front bumper to disable the electric field and get in. You open the trunk and from inside remove a black flak armor, this is the same armor that the Imperial Guard gave you when you enlisted, over the years this thing has suffered countless of changes and upgrades, and has saved your life more times than you can count. You put the armor on, the trenchcoat over it and get in the driver's seat, the bulky Techpriest sits next to you, while the two lithe and tall Eldar get in the rear.
>>
>>5034429

With the push of more buttons and switches you once more change your car into something more than a mere taxi, you connect two twin thermo-nucleon turbochargers to your already powerful engine, in the car's rear you activate and reveal a mine and caltrop launcher, in the front two powerful autoguns located under the headlights come out, and lastly you reveal a set of flamers capable of spewing deadly fire on each side of your car. These things are obviously highly illegal and one of the main reasons as of why your car is nicknamed the "Deathcab" among the criminal underworld and why it is so sought and envied. This beauty took years to make, each weapon is a trophy taken from war-chariots and other vehicles and machinery that other gangs and criminal families used.

"In the name of the Omnissiah..." The Techpriest mutters as he sees what you have done with what once was an average taxi. The Adeptus Mechanicus would never accept the changes that you made, they would declare you a techno-heretic in a heartbeat and send you to Servitor conversion with glee.

"You better keep whatever you have for mouth shut." You start to say as you grunt and search around the car for booze or smokes to no luck. "You and I are both neck deep in grox shit. You are now accomplice of helping criminals and xenos, so if you spill the beans I'll make sure to drag you down with me as well."

With the engine roaring violently you launch yourself into the ruinous and empty roads. All what lies around you are abandoned hab-blocks and factories that have been quiet for centuries. Long ago here lived and worked the slaves and their techpriest masters that built this decadent place, over millennia a massive sprawling hive was literally built over their piling corpses, now they are all buried under thousands of pounds of steel and rockrete and completely forgotten by the population above them. These desolate lands are not for the weak, here only the most dangerous gangs and the most vicious of the mutants manage to survive. There's no rest for the wicked, as soon as you leave the neutrality of the city you are viciously attacked. It doesn't takes long until the first hailstorm of bullets its your car, suddenly three mutated demi-humans jump from among the ruins and get in your way. There's still a pretty long way until the city's outskirts, where the Goop Squads will be located.

> Activate the nitrous boost and run over whoever gets in your path.
> Drive in circles, burn tires and create a wall of white smoke as you shot everybody down with your car mounted Auto-guns.
> Pass next to them and use the flamers to burn them all
> Use your autogun and have the Eldar Ranger shoot with her Shuriken launcher, do a drive-by.
> Ignore them, you have bigger fish to fry
> Other options, write in.
>>
>>5034363
There also is the fact that they potentially have alot more computing power or signal strength depending on how it works....

> Pass next to them and use the flamers to burn them all
>>
>>5034429
>the rats might have approached by curiosity
They had a deathwish.
>>5034430
> Pass next to them and use the flamers to burn them all.
Clean windshield + making them an example. If any of them survive and keep going at us, then:
> Use your autogun and have the Eldar Ranger shoot with her Shuriken launcher, do a drive-by.

>>5034470
We don't know that, tho.
>>
>>5034430
>Pass next to them and use the flamers to burn them all
>>
>>5034884
I'm guessing. I don't think we're that tech illiterate since we could jerry rig a bunch of weapons onto our car.
>>
>>5034430
>> Pass next to them and use the flamers to burn them all





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