The brief confrontation was already turning heads and prompted some of the closest patrons around us to stand up and leave. With a quick glance, I also noted the few off-duty Magistratum officers were no longer around.
'Mister Draeg, is it?' I attempted to deescalate, 'Tollian no longer owes you anything, please leave him alone.'
So pretty with such a lovely voice.
My telepathy picked up Draeg's salivating thoughts, maybe my endearing aura might have been working a little too fast and well on him, and it made me wonder if this counted as backfiring.
Note to self: I will need to look into ways to turn off this ability.
The loan shark smirked and stated his demands. 'Well, I can agree to that if you come along for a few drinks and chat.'
My own calculus was spinning as I looked at the many pairs of surrounding eyes looking over here. Extra attention was definitely something I wanted to avoid, even though the idea of smashing that grin away was very appealing at this moment.
If this was another place…
'Very well, we can have a chat elsewhere,' I nodded and turned to Tollian who was looking at the cred-leech with barely suppressed anger after he had realised what happened. 'Thank you for the meal, Tollian. It was pleasant.'
Tollian's face snapped over to me. 'But Miss Mercy…'
'I will be fine,' I assured him.
Anger turned into anguish, and Tollian's lips twisted but no words came out. Then Draeg cut in, teasing with a dismissive swing of his hand. 'The lady has spoken, off you go lad.'
The big man then turned to me before continuing his mocking. 'Mercy, is it? If you think these scraps make for a pleasant meal, I can show you the world.'
Anger, pure red hot anger was pouring through Tollian's head. I saw in real time he was but moments away from doing the dumbest thing by swinging at his tormentor. That would definitely render the whole situation out of control.
I silently gauged that words alone might not be able to dissuade Tollian now, so instead I reached out with my left hand and touched the back of his right hand that had clenched into a fist.
'It is alright,' I said, then to be doubly sure he would follow, I attempted a technique frequently used by the legendary Inquisitor Gregor Eisenhorn: putting will into spoken words.
For the briefest of moments I went psychically active, targeting the unguarded mind of the young scribe before letting my words come out as a vessel of telepathic compulsion.
'Tollian, go home.'
The power used was akin to a Jedi mind trick, half deep suggestion, half will manipulation. It should easily go through the non-existing mental barrier of Tollian.
To my surprise, and maybe due to my inexperience with usage of the power, Tollian just stood still instead of complying, looking a bit confused. At least he had unclenched his fist. So I increased my power usage while delivering my next word.
'Please.'
A flash of understanding went over Tollian's stiffened face, I read a surge of intense self-loathing covering his mind as he slowly nodded, turned and walked away with head downcast.
I was a bit sorry that his "date night" ended up this way despite knowing the future Tollian had dared to envision was an absolute impossibility. Getting him away now was for the best, for he could play no part and should not be involved in what might be coming next.
Escorted by his two goons, I followed Draeg to his ride which was parked in an alley way around the corner.
On our way there, the cred-leech was trying his best to impress me, talking about the high life he lived and the good times I could look forward to with his company. Despite his self boosting talks, Draeg was still unsure about my background, so he started slipping in questions to probe more information from me.
'So, where are you from?'
'Off-world.'
'Ah. What is your business in Nusquam?'
'... More of duty and obligation.'
'Interesting, tell me more?'
I hesitated for a heartbeat before deciding to stick with my usual no lying-if-possible policy. 'Unless you have vermilion level Imperial clearance, letting you know might be akin to a death sentence.'
He laughed, and as expected, took it as a joke. 'You are from a prominent family then?'
'You can say that, but my immediate "family" is well past its glory days with most of its members dead, missing or worse, and my father has been on death's doorstep for some time.'
Not a single lie in my reply.
So, an off-worlder whose family had fallen off. I read that from Draeg's mind as he relaxed from the possibility of crossing powers he couldn't handle. That made sense, I myself couldn't imagine important off-world people eating at roadside stalls without any servants or bodyguards in sight.
While the loan shark was still annoying as hell from my point of view, I had some time to think about my first instinct to dish out personal punishments. That was a notion the old me would never have considered since it was never an option.
Is it my place to judge others with all these borrowed powers?
With my unique position, I suspected any of my actions might incur unknown and complex ramifications down the line. Maybe this was the reason that mental seal was in my head, to prevent episodes that may lead to my ego running away, cascading into a monster.
Suddenly, I wasn't so sure about teaching the cred-leech a lesson anymore. Rather than a just course, the whole setup began to feel like an abuse of power.
As we got closer to Draeg's ride, an imposing black limousine with tinted glasses that screamed space mafia, I noted there were no other people nor surveillance cameras around the area. It seemed like a deliberate decision the man had made to his advantage that he never suspected could backfire spectacularly.
As we got closer to the car, one of Draeg's underlings who was walking a few paces behind quietly took out a small device before pointing it at me. I heard the rustle of his coat and saw everything from the distant reflection on the car. For a split second I debated on what to do, before deciding on letting him be since I sensed no threat. The man pressed on his gadget, and in the next instant I had the sensation of being hit by a simple detection wave and then witnessed him nodding approvingly to his boss.
So, a mini metal detector of sorts for a quick weapon search. Too bad for them, and despite my mixed feelings about it, I am a weapon.
Draeg, who was walking on my left side, suddenly reached over with his right arm to pull me in. His action reignited my dimming desire to punish him. I hastened my pace just enough and gained the minimal distance to avoid his clutch.
For the second time Draeg had this look of confusion on his face, he was an athletic-looking individual not used to missing his mark. I turned around to face him while slowly pulling back my hood, letting my platinum hair flow loose.
One last chance, let the man decide his own fate.
'I agreed to a chat, nothing more. So I'm saying this just this once,' I said before dropping my final warning with a tone of total emotional detachment. 'If you put a hand on me, severe consequences that you're not ready to face will follow. Leave me alone, depart now and I will overlook all your transgressions and call it a day.'
'What are you talking about?' Draeg said with a chuckle, trying to play it cool despite being slightly unnerved by my sudden bluntness.
'Decide now,' I said with the most deadpan expression I could conjure while looking Draeg dead in his eyes.
That seemed to work as he hesitated, unable to tell if I was bluffing or to take my threat seriously, teetering between pride, lust and the instinct of self preservation.
Draeg's eyes fixed on me, looking for clues and details. Eventually his sight settled on my vivid pink plastic shoes, and he grinned again as an unshakeable assurance took over. No self-respecting important person would tolerate that crap.
Confident in his judgement that I was bluffing, Draeg moved to subjugate me. I stood still and observed as his grabby hand reached for my shoulder, scenes of obscenity already playing in his mind. Both his bodyguards were smirking with a knowing look.
I waited, watched everything in slow motion until his finger was just about to make contact before finally reacting.
You insolent bastard—
I unleashed my outrage, allowing the pent up anger to course through me. In a flash, I felt every muscle on my geneforged body primed like loaded springs, ready for combat. I witnessed—and was surprised by—the air around me rippling outward with observable micro shudders, carrying with them my intent and eagerness for violence in full intensity.
I had no idea what Draeg experienced on the receiving end of my unconcealed wrath, but his grin froze and both his pupils dilated in real time. I moved, his mind was screaming danger while I effortlessly avoided his hand and struck out with a backhanded slap. When my hand was halfway to his face, intuition warned me to hold back.
If this lands, he will die.
Decreased strength.
His survival is now probable, even if it might cost him his jaw.
Cut strength back further. I wanted this to hurt, not to maim.
A dislocated jaw and losing more than a few teeth aside, he most likely will faint.
Changed strike angle to minimise impact.
There was a loud clap as I backhanded the large man squarely on his cheek. In slow motion, Draeg's face buckled as saliva shot up from his mouth. The impact, though greatly reduced, still spun him around like a giant top, and he fell away from me.
But I wasn't done with him. Get over here!
With a flick of telekinesis, I pulled Draeg back so he instead fell towards me, just in time for him to receive a second slap on his other cheek. Spitting blood this time, the loan shark spun the other way and I grabbed onto his collar, stopping him mid spin to face me.
Before Draeg registered what had happened he was already being mentally interrogated, his feeble mind barely put up a fight as I dug up his memories by force for scrutiny. The excruciating pain he experienced from the ordeal was masked by the speed, confusion and burning cheeks.
In a flash I saw his background.
Draeg "The Tallyman" Beldran was the younger and lesser of the infamous Beldran brothers who haunted the capital's underworld. Bombastic and cruel by nature, he had grown up a petty tyrant, sheltered by the reputation and brutality of his far more feared elder brother.
Both eventually found their way into the same criminal organisation—the Hollow Syndicate. The elder Beldran rose quickly, becoming one of its principal enforcers, while Draeg was placed in charge of lower-tier operations: loan-sharking, protection rackets, illegal gambling and drug distribution.
Lately Draeg had begun dipping his hands into the syndicate's darker enterprises involving slave trading, human trafficking and illicit organ trading.
My my, a total scum bag.
With pain and absolute fear taking hold on his trembling mind, Draeg who towered over me slowly fell into a kneeling position.
'Mer… Mercy.' The man mumbled as a streak of blood escaped his lips and tears ran down both his reddened cheeks.
Was he calling me or begging for it? His mind had become a jumbled mess of twitching instincts even I could not tell apart.
I looked up to check on his underlings, and found both of them shivering with horrid facial expressions. Being quite close they were exposed to my moment of fury and appeared severely affected. One of them had wet himself, while another was struggling with shaking hands to pull out a weapon. Both had no mental strength to speak of. Time to test my powers again.
'Turn around.' I said, using telepathic compulsion, putting my will into words again. This time, I witnessed both men's eyes losing focus before they complied, turning their backs to me.
Time for the next step. I reached out and carefully observed their minds before dropping more complex instructions. 'Forget what you saw just now. Instead you witnessed Mister Draeg and I getting into the car together. You both are relieved, go home and sleep.'
'Aye, boss.'
'Have a great time, sir.'
They both answered with a dreamy tone before walking away, down the alley, without looking back. I read in their heads they really believed they had seen me and Draeg entering the limousine together, their boss dismissing them for the night.
That wasn't so hard. It made me wonder how Tollian seemed resistant to my first attempt. I looked down on the crime boss who just saw his bodyguards leaving him like obedient dogs, a look of shock and total disbelief on his swollen face.
Draeg turned shakily to face me, his previous air of cockiness vanished without a trace. The crying bully was looking so pathetic, for a split second I considered ending him like a bug with a final swat. As if reacting to my unspoken intent, Draeg flinched like a frightened child. In his eyes I saw myself looking at him like how Syrine looked at Kryptorer on his ship, jolting me to my senses.
A weapon maybe, but I am no butcher.
I slowed down my breathing to center myself and observed what went through Draeg's mind. The sniffling bloke was thinking about his elder brother now, his protective shield since childhood. The more lethal of the Beldran brothers would be busy today at Site 47.
Site 47. The place where the Hollow Syndicate stored the majority of their "goods"—trafficked humans and slaves. An abandoned series of transit tunnels that was part of "The Dig" from when Nusquam had nearly built its first hive city. It was vast, barely monitored and riddled with side chambers ideal for holding cells.
Apparently some serious problems had been brewing at the site and there was a major operation happening to take care of it.
So, a gathering of true scum bags.
'Get up,' I declared. 'We are moving, you drive.'
Draeg stood up with trembling legs, looking at me with fear in his eyes and asked, 'where… where to?'
'Site 47,' I said with a smile.
The fear in those eyes only intensified.
* * *
Tollian was walking like his soul had left his body.
The young scribe had never been so financially secure yet feeling so utterly lost. Paradoxically, he had never felt so blessed and cursed at the same time.
Clearly the Emperor was watching over him, for who else could send over a mysterious fair maiden in the exact moment to not only save his sorry life, but also effortlessly take care of the debt problem that had been plaguing him for months. Tollian would wager none of his few good friends would even believe his story.
Fair maiden.
That was a massive understatement. In truth Tollian had never met anyone so beautiful. From his point of view Mercy looked almost ethereal, she appeared more like an ideal concept rather than a real person. Unbelievably pretty, well mannered, never condescending, clearly intelligent despite her eccentricity, and most importantly, she treated him like a person.
Incredibly, Tollian felt acknowledged as a peer in spite of the unimaginable gulf of status that must exist between them. It was a stark contrast to a past encounter with another heiress of a rising family, during which he had needed permission just to speak to her indirectly, and was never spared a glance.
Tollian's suspicion on Mercy being actually well-to-do was all but confirmed after she handed him the jackpot win without bringing up the topic of splitting the hefty sum, an amount that if halved was still more than enough to cover his money troubles.
It was only after paying his debt did Tollian fully experience the hunger pang that had been ringing for days. Due to severe stress, he hadn't been eating properly for a while. In the spur of the moment he invited Mercy to a supper, fully expecting her to decline. To his surprise, she agreed to it. And so, for the first time in his life, Tollian found himself dining with a girl that literally turned heads.
She was there, giving him her full attention, eating with him in one of his most frequented night spots, chatting with him, and never once complaining about anything despite the fact that the place must have looked terrible for someone like her. Tollian was over the moon despite knowing full well that this wouldn't last.
That fleeting bliss was shattered when the cred-leech showed up out of the blue and threw him a punch. Not only did Tollian find himself needing to be saved again, Draeg had called his favorite dishes "scraps", leaving him feeling utterly inadequate and seeing red.
Being tarnished right in front of the girl he had started to develop feelings for had enraged Tollian to the point where he almost lost himself. Now that he thought about it, Mercy might have saved him yet again from starting a fight he could not hope to win.
'Tolly.'
Again and again, he found himself a pathetic weakling who needed rescuing.
'Tolly.'
Why would the God-Emperor show such benevolence by saving him, only to display utter cruelty by showing him the ultimate prize in life that he could never hope to claim?
'Tolly!'
Finally realising someone was calling him by his nickname, Tollian snapped back to reality and found himself right outside the Fortune's Chamber with a familiar face looking at him.
It was Marcus, his once close friend from childhood. Over the years their relationship had been drifting apart, and Tollian hadn't seen him for some time since the civil war.
'Marc,' Tollian gave a quick nod while simultaneously wondering how he ended up near the chance-house again.
'Hey, it has been a while. What happened? You looked like you had seen a ghost.'
'I am… not going to talk about it.'
'For real? Had a quarrel with your girlfriend?' Marcus joked.
Tollian's heart skipped a beat but he tried not showing it. 'What girlfriend?'
'Well, at least that settles the rumour.'
'What rumour?' Asked Tollian again, hunger for distraction.
'A friend of mine saw a lucky lad hitting it big here just now. He had seen you once a long while back, and said it was you. But I doubted it since the win was from a machine, which you have sworn off, and a very pretty lady was following him.'
Tollian smiled weakly. 'Exactly. Pretty ladies and I are mutually exclusive in existence. Like parallel lines, on the same plane but will never be together.'
Marcus laughed, Tollian laughed too and suddenly, it was like the old times again.
'How are you doing? I heard disturbing gossip about you owing thrones to leeches. Are those also just false rumours?' Marcus asked.
'I owe them nothing,' said Tollian with a determined shake of his head and a self-deprecating smirk, declaring a truth that was actualised less than a few hours ago.
'Glad to hear it,' Marcus said before lowering his voice, 'from what I know, the lenders' guild here is headed by that no good "Tallyman" bloke. He would definitely pawn your organs if you owed him thrones, you got me?'
Tollian nodded in silent agreement, knowing too well what his friend mentioned.
'Also, if you ever get lucky with a pretty girl,' continued Marcus half-jokingly with a hushed tone, 'never let the bastard lay his eyes on her. Word around says the few cases of missing girls around here might have something to do with him.'
'What?!' Tollian found himself exclaiming aloud while staring at Marcus. The latter winced, eyes wide and surprised by the intensity of his reaction. Tollian's lips twitched but he said nothing, simply turning around before breaking into a run.
'Hey, where are you going?' Marcus asked out loud but received no reply. Tollian was running, running back to look for Mercy.
In that moment, a sudden realisation struck him, and he finally understood why her words had left him feeling so lost.
Tollian, go home.
There was no place to go, he was already homeless. The only place even remotely looking like a home in this universe was that fleeting vision of a family he saw with that mysterious girl.
* * *
Despite all his macho bravado, Draeg's handling of his vehicle was less than optimised. Being rusty was the proper description. I imagined it was probably due to always having underlings to drive him around.
Seated beside him, I had all the time to look around and appreciate the fine interior of his opulent limousine. Chrome-black plasteel ribs framed the interior in sweeping, cathedral-like arcs. Between the ribs, inlays of polished void-mahogany added a warmth that seemed almost ancient. Every surface was immaculate, every detail whispering wealth and power in a showy fashion. The interior roof even featured a system that could project a panoramic, high definition and distortion-free hologram of the exterior view, letting you enjoy the full scene without exposure to the elements outside.
The center of the steering wheel was engraved with the owner's crest and the stylised wings of the manufacturer which I recognised from a book inside my head to be House Benthor Automotiva, a local purveyor of elite limousines. The console was a masterpiece of luxury tech featuring a floating hololith interface with controls rendered in soft gold lines. Each command rune shone like a jewel, seemingly custom-made to the owner's taste. There was even a beverage cabinet that would slide out with a hand gesture, holding amasec and crystalware suspended in fancy anti-shock fields.
Draeg, who finally had some time to calm down, began to think of ways to dig himself out of his current predicament. From his mind I knew he was thinking about his brother again: Dral "Bastion" Beldran was by all accounts a formidable badass with some notoriety in the underworld. He alongside three others formed the fearsome "Menacing Four", the primary enforcers of the Hollow Syndicate.
'Do… do you know who my brother is?' He asked in a shaky voice. 'Believe me, you won't want to piss him off, and he will be pissed after finding out. Take all my money, let me go and we will call it square, forget everything that happened.'
Bitch, please.
I spared the shivering bully a side eye and almost laughed out loud at his feeble attempt at intimidation. Syrine might be the worst person in this universe for anyone to mess around with in the game of do you know who my brother is.
I imagined an alternate reality where she grew up close with her brothers together at the Imperial Palace, where a doting Horus, Ferrus Manus, Perturabo or any of the brother primarch could be a reality, and then someone bullied Syrine.
Their fury could literally end worlds.
'Shut up and drive,' I said. 'Trust me you are lucky that I didn't bring my brothers into the picture.'
Still not a single lie in what I had said. I liked it that way.
* * *
Task Force Vigilum, an agency hastily assembled and empowered by the Inquisition, had now been fully operational on Nusquam for some time. Its headquarters occupied a secured building not far from the Scholastica Psykana, a location chosen for both proximity and oversight.
Its mandate was simple yet immense in scope: to monitor, regulate, and respond to the sudden surge of psykers emerging amongst the population of the planet.
Under the cover of darkness, a sleek speeder settled onto the rooftop of the headquarters, and a late middle-aged man in a grey stormcoat stepped out. He then crossed the gigantic roof to reach a door, proving his credentials to a terminal before entering the building.
Kael Saigonn, Inquisitorial Overseer for both Vigilum and the Scholastica Psykana, returned a crisp salute to the guarding stormtroopers before stepping through the main archway leading into the operations headquarters.
The place was fully wired up like the nervous system of a creature built from data, vigilance and quiet dread. Low and constant hums of cogitator stacks and noospheric translators throbbed behind armored walls, their sound woven into the air like an artificial heartbeat. Rather than constructing its own infrastructure from scratch, Vigilum had instead grafted itself onto the existing information webs of both the Magistratum and the Adeptus Arbites, using their networks to shoulder the bulk of its surveillance and reporting duties.
Passing armoured walls, Kael entered through a foyer which opened into a wide concourse where a busy crowd came into view. Continuing on his way, Kael walked past many uniformed personnel, each moving with quiet urgency. There were Magistratum officers in grey, Arbites liaisons in their stark black, and Vigilum analysts in unmarked parchment-white tabards moving about, tending to their duties. Some offered Kael the sign of the aquila as he passed, and he returned each with a quick nod.
At the heart of the concourse stood the central operations dais, a raised circular platform ringed by hololithic emitters. A huge, translucent holographic globe of Nusquam hovered above it, spinning slowly while being peppered with blinking emergency markers. The walls around it were lined with slate-black datascreens streaming updates on incident reports, psyker-incidence heat maps, Arbites arrest logs and Magistratum emergency dispatch feeds. Red-ribbon priority notices pulsed across entire panels: unregistered psychic flares detected, and citizens' reports of manifestation flagged for urgent review.
Kael walked past the giant spinning globe, entering a secured room right around the corner.
It was a small room, a work station for a single person. The sovereign of this place, Osgur Malvek the data-savant, sat atop his elevated command post—a circular, tiered workstation surrounded by multiple monitors, data-slates, cogitator pillars, suspended lumen-holos, and digital banners that scrolled constantly.
Dressed in layered grey and muted red robes, Osgur himself appeared more like a specialised servitor than a living person. Tall but stooped, his back shaped by decades spent leaning over data-slates. His skin carried the sickly pale and waxy tones common to long-term monitor screen exposure. The man's few and sparse grey hair was kept close to the scalp, more out of necessity than style due to the cables entering his head. The working savant was a still point in a hurricane of moving information, his augmetic fingers dancing over various consoles as multiple streams of reports cascaded around him in vertical liquid light.
'Master Saigonn,' Osgur greeted Kael without taking his eyes away from his work, but then again one of his eyes was almost permanently stuck to an eyepatch-like optical data feed.
'Any news locating our missing lady?' Kael asked, the creases on his aged handsome face enhanced by the cold lights in the station.
'I am currently monitoring one hundred forty eight Magistratum stations and fifteen Arbites outposts along the area for any reports concerning female with the correct height and descriptions,' Osgur replied softly, his monotonous voice somehow carrying the weariness of someone who never truly rests.
'No luck?'
'So far, nothing. I understand you have met her once?'
'Oh yes, it was a …most remarkable experience,' Kael confessed, remembering the girl and the divine radiance of her halo.
'The lady in question has the combination of unique fashion, exceptional looks and distinctive hair colour, quite hard to miss. Speaking of luck, you sir really should increase your own security details by having a permanent bodyguard or two.'
'Let me worry about that myself,' Said Kael with a shrug. 'Try increasing the scope by looking into live reports and those that failed to be officially filed?'
'I could try accessing those pict-feeds on the Magistratum stations that support them, provided they still function. I highly doubt we will get anything though,' Osgur said with a reserved sigh as he keyed in some complex commands into his console with practiced ease before pressing the execute key.
Immediately a number of small independent display windows bloomed across the multiple monitors, and Osgur looked into them, concentrating with his unique talent that was augmented further by precious implants and cortical enhancers. Decades of exposure to raw incident feeds have conditioned and allowed him to process hundreds of reports simultaneously—triaging, correlating, discarding, and elevating such data with inhuman speed.
Kael waited for a while and was about to leave Osgur to his work when the savant spoke again. 'By the Throne, we have a hit.'
'Say again?'
'Magistratum Station at the District of Saint Aurelian, someone is trying to report about a possible kidnapping of a female with closely matching details.'
'Show me.'
Osgur worked on his console again, isolating and enlarging one of the displays until it showed a live feed where a young scribe appeared frantically arguing with an officer.
'Why is the case not accepted?' Kael asked.
'He never witnessed the alleged crime happening. On top of that he doesn't know her real name, only knows her as "Mercy". His description of her is a perfect match, just with an extra grey hood.'
'Do what you can to keep him there, and send the nearest team to secure him!' Kael ordered as he ran out of the room.
* * *
The nearer we got to Site 47, the less I was convinced about this being a good idea. By this point we had already passed through a few security checkpoints set up by the syndicate. All went without issues since Draeg's brother was one of the big shots, and I could turn invisible.
Still, I doubted Thaberus and the others would accept "going after a criminal organisation, rescuing some helpless victims" as good enough reasons for me to put myself at risk, the scope was simply too small. In addition, who knew if my actions would lead to a positive outcome? There was always the possibility that an even worse group would rise in the power vacuum after I took this one out.
No matter what, I will still have a lot of explaining to do. What have I gotten myself into?
As we made our final approach to the site, I was wrestling with a last-minute surge of regret when I felt it—faint at first, little more than a whisper at the edge of my senses. The feeling soon grew stronger, rising in strength until I recognised the unmistakable sensation.
Psychic resonance.
Potent, remarkably strong, and far more alarmingly, mixed within that outpouring of immense raw power was something else: a deep sense of aching sorrow.
It seemed like someone had a massive case of psychic awakening.