Chapter Text
Two tall figures in bright power armour surveyed the remains of the buildings, seeking indications of survivors. One was scanning with his helmet’s auto senses, while the other simply relied on his ears.
This was one of the last areas to check before the raiding party withdrew. The rest of the humans and any useful supplies they found were being stowed in the shuttle already.
“One in that building. Front room. Elevated vitals indicate they’re stressed but stable.”
The one who spoke pointed at a nearby building, his voice resonating disturbingly through the myriad speakers that were scattered across his armour.
“Two in the larger building down the road there, both in the farthest room to the right. One is badly injured. The other sounds possibly unconscious. One of the blasts must have hit their building.”
He tilted his head, listening. “The others have found four more and will retrieve them, then that’s all.”
The other figure nodded. His armour lacked the speakers, instead being covered with vibrant painted and carved patterns that were somehow both garish and entrancing.
“Good. We should be well out before anyone can be dispatched from the closest fort then. I’ll get the lone one, you collect the others. You can kill the injured one if necessary.”
His voice was commanding, darkly eager and distorted by vox static, but nowhere near as disturbing as his companion’s.
He set off towards the first building while the other continued down the street.
There were not as many potential slaves here as one could hope, but it was not a bad amount either, and there had only been a small handful of the local planetary guard to dispatch.
The rest were just civilians, and had so far been easy to round up after their meagre protectors were dispatched. Farmers mostly.
To be expected, given that it was an agri-world.
They had already cleared the main residential area, and this last part seemed to contain the settlement’s few shops. He wondered if these people had been working late, or if they had taken refuge here when they heard the attack begin.
He barely slowed upon reaching the building, pushing the locked door off its hinges with a crunch. It was built for human privacy, not to stop someone like him.
No figures met his initial scan of the room, but he was confident that they would be there. His companion’s hearing was never wrong, and he had said they were in this front room.
There. A flutter of purple cloth under a table gave his target’s hiding place away just before they lunged out at him, something sharp and glittering in one hand.
Their mortal speed was almost pathetically slow.
Before they had made it two steps he stepped forward, neatly trapping both of their wrists in one gauntleted hand before lifting them off the ground in a smooth movement. They swung slightly in his grip from the leftover momentum.
“Scissors?”
He was amused by their choice of weapon once he saw it more clearly, taking them easily with his free hand and giving them a cursory glance.
“You really meant to stab me with a pair of scissors?” He smiled at the idea and tossed them aside.
“Even if you somehow made it to me and got through my armour, those wouldn’t even scratch me,” he informed his captive, inspecting them more closely now that they were out of hiding and disarmed.
He held aloft a woman who seemed to be slowly realizing exactly how badly she had miscalculated.
He guessed that she was probably in her late twenties. Maybe five foot three, with a rather slight build. Her black hair was pulled into a loose knot at the back of her neck, leaving only a few wisps framing a heart shaped face lit with large, golden brown eyes. They stared back at his helmeted face as he studied her, wide with panic. Full lips were parted in an echo of the rounded shock of her eyes.
She was clad in a long, well fitted dress of deep purple, trimmed with neat floral embroideries.
She didn’t look like a farmer.
Though she seemed fit and healthy enough, she lacked the muscles of someone used to hard labour, and her golden olive skin tone seemed like it might lend itself to even more of a tan if she spent time in the sun, and… his gaze lingered on the dress thoughtfully.
It was not a practical garment, but certainly not rich enough for a noble. Though the work was well done, the material itself was low quality. A merchant maybe, or…?
He looked around the room again.
Bolts of fabric were stacked on the edge of a work table, a rack of pinned clothing seemed to await her attention, and an upturned chair and scattered skeins of coloured thread indicated she might have been working on something before she had been forced to take cover under the table.
Well… how fortunate. They hadn’t had someone who could sew since their last tailor started killing the other humans for leather.
After he was discovered doing it they had been forced to get rid of him to keep the peace. It had been a shame, but letting the humans kill each other too often caused problems.
While he was lost in thought the woman seemed to come out of her frozen shock. She suddenly began to struggle and kick at him, writhing and hissing curses through bared teeth.
He returned his attention to her.
Angry little thing... Pretty though.
He decided that he liked her.
Her struggles were really more entertaining than they were an effective escape ploy, and she was probably more likely to hurt herself than him.
“Stop that,” he ordered, squeezing her wrists until she complied.
“Is this your work?” He wanted to know, tracing the embroidery along the dress’ neckline with an armoured fingertip.
He hoped it was. It seemed remarkably high quality work to find in a remote place like this.
Instead of answering, she tried to shrink away from his touch. He squeezed her wrists again warningly.
“Yes,” she hissed finally.
“Wonderful, and what’s your name?”
Instead of answering, she turned her face away from him. She was clearly afraid of him, as he could both feel and see her shaking, but she still seemed intent on being uncooperative.
Interesting.
“Well I suppose it is rude not to introduce myself first isn’t it?
Let’s try again then. I’m Phaedrus Oriol, originally of the Third Legion. And you are…?”
Silence. He sighed dramatically.
“Well I suppose that’s alright. We can always revisit the topic later, and I don’t want to wind up breaking your wrists. For now…” he looked at her thoughtfully, his gaze pulled back to the dress. The vibrant colour was a nostalgic one, almost like a sign.
“Let’s just call you Violet.”
More silence. He decided to count this as approval.
“Well then miss Violet, now that we’re acquainted, we do need to get going.
“If I let you down, will you behave nicely and walk with me to the ship, or-“
At the word ‘ship’ she shuddered.
Sudden light flashed through her eyes and crackled over them both in a cool wave, cutting off his question with a torrent of despair tinged with some sort of helpless rage.
He froze in shocked delight as it flowed over him, crackling along his nerve endings and setting his brain alight with a mix of warp energy and raw emotion. It was a euphoric sensation, almost like some sort of drug but… different.
It felt incredible.
Awareness, horror, and a sense of violation flowed in another wave and he realized she actually felt his own awareness and response.
The connection slammed shut as she threw up walls and ripped her mind free of the warp with such desperate violence that he staggered, physically thrown off balance.
Anger welled in him to replace the emptiness, but its fire only felt dull and unsatisfying after her psychically amplified emotions.
He stifled the urge to shake her or break her wrists in retaliation. Instead, he let go.
Dazed and clearly not expecting this, she fell to the ground in a heap of purple cloth.
There was stunned silence for a long moment as each tried to collect themselves.
Phaedrus recovered first, his anger fading as he realized what must have happened.
“A witch is it? You’re just full of surprises. Was that your first time?” His voice was light and teasing as he knelt down to gather her up off the floor.
He expected more resistance, maybe an attempt to flee, or at the very least more swearing, but instead she seemed frozen. Her horrified gaze was fixed not on him, but some unknown point in the distance.
An unfamiliar emotion stirred faintly as he looked down at her hollow expression.
Phaedrus wasn’t sure if he had felt pity before... if he ever had, it had certainly been a long time ago. How strange.
A witch.
He should kill her.
A hostile and untrained psyker was a far cry from an ideal slave, and leaving her behind only left a witness.
Leaving wouldn’t even spare her life. She would only be killed or sent to the black ships now.
Killed, most likely. Their presence here would be viewed as a corrupting one if they were identified. She would be twice tainted in the Imperium’s eyes now. A psyker was one thing, they could be useful, but a chaos exposed psyker… her life was already over no matter what he did.
Killing her now could even be considered a mercy. Inquisitors weren’t known for their kindness any more than his brothers were.
Or…
He could just take her anyway.
Killing her really seemed like such a waste, and… he didn’t want to. Though he certainly didn’t want anyone else to either. That was worse somehow?
No, he would much prefer to keep her.
Her powers didn’t seem very strong if that was the best she could pull off to stop him from taking her away.
Far from painful, it had in fact been quite enjoyable… he would be eager to try it again.
The others likely wouldn’t argue with him bringing her. She didn’t seem dangerous, especially not in this state.
He hoped she hadn’t taken leave of her senses though.
She had shown enough strength and awareness to shut down the connection… it was probably just shock that had knocked the fight out of her so thoroughly.
Contemplating this, he scooped up her limp form, taking unusual care to avoid pressing her against the spikes and studs adorning his armour.
“Well now I really can’t leave you behind can I?” He murmured to her in a quiet hiss of static, “your governor would only send you off to the black ships, or just have someone shoot you... it really would be a terrible waste. I’ll just have to keep you myself.”
Her only reply was to cover her face with shaking hands.
Well, she was still lucid enough to be upset about the situation then. She would be fine.
He shook his head with a smile and set out towards the ship. Who would have thought a mortal might actually stand a better chance of survival with some of the remaining Emperor’s Children?