//------------------------------// // Evil clowns can be hired to stalk your child for a week before their birthday. // Story: I Blame You, Too // by Whitestrake //------------------------------// @#@#@# Taylor's POV @#@#@# Eight Space Marines of the elite Deathwatch stood before us, or rather, seven of them did; there was a scout in their colors perched on a nearby battlement, aiming for us. From what I could tell, he actually had hair, and a bit of a beard, but I could also see the augmented eye that watched me as his organic one peered through his sniper rifle's scope. As little of a chance I stood against a single Marine, a bullet through the skull would kill me, and the scout obviously had better reaction time than I did. They were looking at me, though only the scout and their squad leader, or at least the one I assumed to be their squad leader, lacked a helmet, allowing me to see where their gaze fell. “We were not informed of this traitor's arrival,” the most-decorated one amongst them said, looking at me. He was referring to the Black Legionnaire, and I was briefly surprised to hear Dorosa hadn't informed them of his preservation. “It is a blight and must be destroyed.” “After you have verified the kill,” I replied, meeting his gaze. Truthfully, he scared me; whatever the Chaos Marine had boasted, this Deathwatch Marine was a true elite, and had a fully-loaded bolter in his hands. His face remained impassive, and I didn't dare attempt to glean any information from his mind, lest he somehow detect my presence. “Do you wish to lift the sheet, or should I?” “I've no need for your suggestions,” he replied tersely. For a moment, I thought I had somehow offended him, then I traced his eyes to my hand, which was reflexively inching towards my pistol. I brought it up to cover my mouth, and coughed, only to use it to beckon the... captain, I think, to the corpse. “Your assistant is capable.” Lyra yelped and hid behind me, unused to seeing such a towering individual, and even less accustomed to being ordered around by one. Instead of cimplying, which was honestly the best option, I walked to the dry, white, industrial-strength body-sheet, and drew my sabre. In a single motion, I severed the chains holding the slain Chaos Marine, and used my off had to pull it away, revealing the blasphemous armor and pallid remains. The captain, and I was only saying he was a captain because he had an iron halo attached to his pack, looked at me, then back to the corpse. “I take it you must be the Burned Man?” “The one and, thankfully, only.” @#@#@# Amos's POV @#@#@# Taylor was either a moron, or had the biggest pair of balls I have ever seen on a mortal man, and I've met some pretty impressive men in my day. He was casually chatting with a Space Marine captain, who bore a number of purity seals for valor and fury in close combat. I knew that because Martellus had apparently accumulated a number of books that only a magos could get away with having; they were actually a gift from a Techmaine he had worked with before joining Dahl's retinue. “Not bad,” the captain said, looking, upon only the deepest of inspections by the skilled eye, a slight bit impressed, but only a little. I've actually never worked around Space Marines long enough to understand their state of mind, though I knew they were still, in the ways the Emperor made them to be, like normal men, to an extent. For all I knew, he could have been joking, but he and Taylor both looked rather rigid, primed in the even tone moved against the other, but I saw the corners of both their mouths turned by perhaps a millimeter for an instant. “I assume you kept attacking after you severed his head?” “In my experience, death can be rather cheap, so I find it best to ensure termination beyond the ability of regeneration,” he replied, relaxing a bit. Lyra took a step from behind him, and seemed to have calmed enough not to shake. She pulled her hood back to increase her line of sight, which I knew must have been because she was used to having eyes much larger than her current one, and an equally-large field of vision. “With respect, Brother-Captain, we must be on our way; Lord Inquisitor Dorosa is expecting us.” I was attempting to cut off any possible conversation, any chance Taylor might let something slip. “The Lord Inquisitor expects you to attend the trials and present the evidence you have accumulated against Reglan Dahl; she expects the Burned Man to come with us.” @#@#@#@#@#@# Inquisitorial headquarters were always well-lit in the foyers, but reverted to candlelight once one was where business was done. As Taylor and Lyra were escorted by the Marines, it became abundantly clear they were not going to the trial, or at least not yet. None of the men said anything, leaving the unicorn-turned-human to wonder about her situation. None of their stances were hostile, and they kept a modest, relaxed pace, without being too leisurely, keeping their air of business. They had yet to be disarmed, and it seemed they would be allowed to keep their weapons for a while longer, at least. Captain Harkness, of the Unceasing Crusaders, was uncertain as to what Dorosa wanted with the Burned Man; he knew she suspected he was a psyker, but the captain had worked alongside many of his Chapter's librarians, and recognized none of the signs within the young man. The enemies of the Imperium took many forms, and though it was intrinsic of a Marine to be perceptive and skeptical of those he met, Taylor and Lyra just didn't set off any warning bells in his mind. “I am curious, Burned Man; most would be trembling at the sight of Marines of the Deathwatch Chapter, yet you do not. Why is that” Scout Sergeant Cyrus, of the Blood Ravens, asked, breaking the silence that had reigned over the ten humans as they walked. This was his second tour with the Deathwatch, his first had been many years before then, and he only returned after his Chapter Master convinced him it would be better for the Imperium that he provide his skills to those who needed them. He had already defended his Chapter's recruiting world from numerous Orks, Eldar, a Tyranid Hive Fleet, and a full-blown Chaos insurrection, so what were a few pesky Tyranids amongst Marines? “Men who behave as you do are either hiding something impossibly dangerous, or extremely ignorant of their situation.” “I have nothing to hide from the Lord Inquisitor, so I suspect there will be very little trouble.” The Burned Man, to his credit, remained impassive even as his female companion seemed terrified by the brooding scout and his mechanical eye. “Though, this has something to with rumors of me being a psyker, don't they?” He motioned around himself, indicating the corridor and the Marines escorting him. “As well as our own inquiry about the Black Legionnaire you slew,” Harkness replied, resisting the urge to scowl at the thought of the traitor. Battle Brother Julian had been his name, as inscriptions within his cursed armor indicated, but it also said he was a former member of Harkness's own Chapter, which had been rather worrisome on the aged captain. It had been two hundred and twenty years since he'd last seen Julian, and it had been under much better circumstances. He never guess the young recruit would turn to Chaos alongside his squad, but it unfortunately happened, as it did all too often. “I have been on every planet in this sector and its neighbors, yet your accent escapes me. You wouldn't be from Hyperion, would you?” “I'm a native of Prometheus, actually,” he answered, lying as smoothly as he could. “A volcanic death world near the eastern rim,” one of the Marines said, nodding his head in approval. His left pauldron bore the heraldry of the Salamanders Chapter, which meant Prometheus could have also meant his homeworld's moon and his Chapter's Fortress-Monestary. “Craftworld Iyanden was in the area, last I heard.” “I certainly hope they aren't bold enough to test Prometheus's wrath,” Taylor said, sounding slightly amused. By sheer luck, the world actually existed where the Marine said, and it was as barren as Nocturne during the Time of Trial, and the Salamander knew it. They came across a single door, bearing the crux medicae, marking it a hospital of sorts. Captain Harkness motioned for the Burned Man to step forward. “Here is where you shall be tested. Your friend will stay here, and once judgment has been passed upon you, we shall continue to the trial.” “May you not be found wanting within the eyes of the Emperor,” Cyrus added.