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[h2] From the cockpit of a civilian lifter [/h2]
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Hmmmm. Whatever was happening in that building was none of his business but the streets outside were practically deserted. The lights and levers of the cockpit remained a familiar standard despite the odd quiet of the land below. The odd craft or two passed his position but was swiftly lost in the tumult of the spires. A world like this had its fair share of airborne craft. The rich trafficking themselves from distraction to distraction. Security was plentiful if for no other reason than the thrones ran thick. Craft like his own faded into the background as a mere delivery service. Unworthy of note to the rich though air transport was too upmarket for most crime so the enforcers were also blind. It was almost too easy to slip between the cracks. He was disturbed from his thoughts by the intercom. [color=1a7b30]“Pilot be ready for rapid decent to the building’s facing”[/color] came the voice from the wire grill, light for the hold blinking red.
 
“You’ve the money ready yes?” A foreign accent with a local lilt spoke thumbing the button below the flashing light. 

[color=1a7b30]“The Omnissiah rewards those who serve his will”[/color] came the reply.
 
“… Right. I’ll take that as a yes.” What was it with religious types and never just saying what they mean.

He was ex-Navy. Flying civilian lifters was not exactly glamorous, he missed the excitement whether he admitted it or not. Once upon a time he surfed flak as thick as the loamy surf of his home world.  Here amongst the hive’s spires the pilot could feel the thrill of danger once again. He knew not what business this Mechanicus golem had here but he knew a battle ready warrior when he saw one.  Whatever the business below it was like to be bloody.

It would not matter if the folk below picked up on the voxed message or not. Cargo like this found its way to its recipient for better or worse. A grin spread across the pilot’s features. Usually worse.