POOHEAD189

Death's Edge: A Warhammer Story

If last night was not a clear enough indication, I was on the verge of becoming intoxicated with this woman. I could use fouler and more suggestive language, but let's just say when she whispered the statement in my ear I quite lost my train of thought.

"You know I'm quite open with converting to that sort of faith," I said softly, turning to face her, our noses brushing we were so close. "I don't think Sigmar could blame me for it."

My head managed to take hold of me for a brief enough moment to reign myself in as my eyes snapped to the left and saw the Captain turning toward us. I was quick enough to back off to a 'chaste' distance when his eyes fell on me, my arms crossed and my hand on my chin, professionally poised, appearing deep in some manner of thought.

"Get going!" He barked, waving us away. Gladly, I thought, but gave the impression I was merely acquiescing with his request and led Camilla out of the west wing into the corridor that led to the central halls of the palace. We saw the occasional body or broken vase, but other than distant shouts and the sounds of what I could only imagine were the discharge of firearms, there was little danger thus far. I pressed my bandaged hand against the wall and grimaced from the pain. My fingers ached and yearned to go back into a more comfortable, lax position, but I had learned from a few Dwarfen merchants in Altdorf that one could ascertain many things by placing their hands upon stone or other hard surfaces. I took a moment and closed my eyes, letting my strong hand hold my holy staff. The skull at its top a solid weight to keep whatever I might feel between my hand and the floor.

"Erm, what are you doing?" Camilla asked in tilean, confused but not wishing to disturb me lest it was some arcane ritual I was performing. In a way, it was. The divine lore of Sigmar was a power the Warrior-God could imbue his more noteworthy followers, but what the layman did not realize was the concentration one needed in order to worship the diety in a way that might garner his attention and holy powers. Such techniques could potentially be linked to eastern texts having come from far Cathay, or perhaps even the island nation of Nippon. Others with even more heretical ideas thought it came from the elves and their performances with magic. The history was suspect, but I took what kernels of truth I could from the rumors and applied it to my abilities for real world application. I had long ago grown learned to such practices of meditation in order to help me with my prayers, and I utilized the skill here to see if I could find what came next, ahead of us.

Unfortunately, it seemed I hadn't the time.

"Kian!" Camilla cried. Pulling my mind out of the pit I had just dipped my toes into was jarring, but I opened my eyes to see a group of crossbowmen and pikemen arrayed around us. Perhaps a dozen in all. Even still, I felt an inkling of the power I was about to grasp hovering at the edges of my consciousness. I loathed to find out how taxed I would be from using it, but perhaps I hadn't a choice.

"My, my, if it is not the man of the hour," a familiar voice said in heavily accented reikspeil. I turned and saw Marco Telli, a decorated jacket adorning an immaculate satin dress shirt, smiling evilly. His eyes flickered to Camilla. "Ah, and Imelda's new girl, is it? You do move quick, signor priest. This is quite a rare flower."

"Camilla de la Trantio," She said without a hint of fear, her dark hair whipping behind her like a proud stallion's mane. "I am taking teh preest of Sigmoor to Lady Mondo. Yoo would do well noot to hinder oos."

"And you would do well to speak when spoken to," He shot back in quick tilean. I breathed a sigh, knowing there was little chance we could get out of this one. Even if I cast what powers I had, it would only delay the inevitable. We were quite surrounded, you see. I stepped off the wall and fixed my hair, determined to die in dignity. I hoped they would let Camilla go, but I was quite finished. That is, until I felt a keen breeze against my left cheek and glanced past the wall I had leaned on to see an open window, next to a thick curtain rope coiled onto the white floor. "Perhaps I will send you back to Mondo without your head! Keep your tongue to yourself lest I take it. Would be such a shame to lose something so talented."

"Gentleman!" I said, holding up my bandaged hand suddenly, taking one step so I stood by Camilla. I lifted my staff gently off the floor, muttering a small prayer under my breath. By Sigmar's endless grace, I hoped this worked. "I was remiss, I must confess. I see now how foolish it was of me to not speak with you earlier, your gallantry prince Marco. I am an interloper here. I have no right to your food or your women or your respect..."

Marco raised an eyebrow, suspicious but not displeased. As I continued he gained a self satisfied smile, crossing his arms. "Go on, priest."

"Yes, it was terribly impolite and unbecoming. You, with such a great name in the greatest city in the old world. I should get upon my knees and beg your forgiveness, throwing myself upon the mercy of your majesty and boundless kindness. However, there is one thing I must do before I renounce my old loyalties completely and beg for my life." I confessed, my bandaged hand a gentle fist now placed against my chest. I played the role as if I were in a melodrama. Even some of the soldiers watched intently, interested beyond mere orders. "I promised I would have breakfast with the lovely Camilla and I scant think of a crueler replacement to such an activity than gazing upon your grotesque image any longer, you ugly piece of shit."

The butt of my staff hit the marble floor as I placed my bandaged hand before Camilla's eyes to shield her, and from the eyes of my stave's bronze skull erupted the light of the sun. The priests of my cult gave this sigmarite prayer the ostentatious name of 'Beacon of Righteous Virtue,' but it served just as well against men with unprotected eyes. It was used to dispell chaos spirits and undead abominations, but one could use it in many ways I found. The men's vision was overwhelmed immediately, crying out and throwing their weapons as they clutched their faces. Two crossbows loosed, but one bolt flew wide while the other hit his fellow pikeman in the groin.

I took no time to delay. I grabbed Camilla by the waist, grimacing from having to use my ruined hand, wrapped the thick rope by the window around my opposite arm, and stepped onto the window over a canopy of greenery twenty feet below us. Camilla quickly wrapped around me to better help use her weight to let the inevitable swing work, and the next moment we sailed over empty air to another hall opposite the corridor we had just left. Our rope was, of course, anchored from the window itself and did not swing far. I had to use my head and desperately thrust my staff forward, vainly trying to hook the wings my the skull against a crevasse, only to have it slip and send us swinging back over the canopy.

We were too far down to go back into the window, but I expected the rope to be cut at any second, and so instead I opted to let go as soon as we had been flung over an alcove. The both of us hit a partially opened stained window, spinning so I got the worst of the damage. I suppose I was chivalrous like that, but we managed to topple into a secondary dining hall onto a soft carpet, rolling until we lay just under the drapery of a table. I ached in my back, my head, and gods my hand, but we were safe for the moment, I believed.

"Not my best escape, but I think that did the trick," I said, trying to rise but hitting the floor again. My body felt immensely weak and my head spun. Despite my disorientation, I saw she was crouched over me and looking at me with a hint of concern and awe and something I could not tell. I hoped it was not too bad of a thought. "A-...are you ok, signoritta?"

Bodacious Bounties: Bounty Hunter AU

Technically Neil did not have the authority to let someone drive one of these. It took someone his boss's level or higher to do that, but if he went and got his boss, he had the distinct feeling the overweight and over-aged man would make this girl uncomfortable with his advances. Granted, Neil wasn't going to shy away from trying to charm her either, but she had come onto him first! With only the briefest hesitation, he hopped into vehicle with her.

"I need to make sure you won't get into more trouble than you're worth," He said jokingly. "Or I'm worth, for that matter."

"You're worth quite a bit," She replied with a wink, closing the cockpit with the press of a button. A carbo-glass screen slid out of a sheath and encapsulated them. Behind the two was a small bulkhead door, leading to a small dwelling where one could place their belongings and shack up for the night on a long trip between planets. Neil cut his glance and regarded her when she asked: "Can we take this out of the station?"

"Not unless you want to get me fired, or you feel lucky enough to make it past the security turrets." He warned, though he wasn't happy about it. Taking a Callisto out into space and sharing a night with this girl was definitely his idea of a good night. Unless she was a brain eating Xenos in disguise or taking him to a gang hit, which could potentially still be on the table, but he was a leap first and ask questions later sort of guy, usually. "You can fly above the business section of the business terminal. They let smaller transports switch docks from there. You could see the whole station from there. I can show you the best dives here."

The Callisto lifted off and sped forward smooth as a whistle. The reactor was compact and purred with a satisfying growl, the lift seamless and the controls turning on a dime. Neil fancied himself a good, even great pilot on most vehicles, but this girl wasn't bad. She learned quickly, zipping the Callisto in a clockwise spin upwards that was entirely not regulation but fun as hell. Neil heard her laughing and he found he was laughing too.

"Damn, you did want to go fast," He said, looking at her with clear interest in his eyes. They leveled off five hundred meters into the terminal, where the structures and cables were few and far between and there was a clear, open space save for a few lazy transports meandering to their destinations. Above them, stars filled the sky, hidden behind a screen of clear carbo-glass half a foot thick. You would have to shoot your way out of the station to get through it, and this vehicle did not have las cannon attached. Below, the business terminal swayed slowly counter clockwise, the various cantinas, tax offices, repairshops, landing bays, and everything else a station needed mapped out below.

Hyperion 3 had used to serve as a naval base, back when earth and humanity's future was bright and filled with endless possibilities. Before the collapse, xenos invasions, and the civil wars that followed. Now it was a pit stop for spacers and transports hauling cargo. Neil wondered what it had been like, back during those days. He knew it was nothing like the old stories, but he had never been to earth. He wanted to visit one day, he found. Spinning just below, barely visibly behind the bulk of the fifteen kilometer business terminal, was the smaller living terminal where the apartments and scant homes of the upper echelons were located. One only need dive down the central lift to go between.

"See that?" Neil said, leaning closer to point past her shoulder, indicating a small boxy shape far below. His voice was hot in her ear. "That's Logan's Gun, the best spot in Hyperion to go out to eat. Want to head there after we take this baby a few laps? I'll buy."

Death's Edge: A Warhammer Story

"I thank you sir for your timely intervention. It seems..." I was going to ascertain that Sigmar truly watched over us this day, but I figured he would not take to the concept as I would so I continued with, "the gods are watching over us," in a more diplomatic approach. He laughed, jaunting over to our position and wiping the blood from his blade on his own cloak.

"Yoo ar queite reight," He said in his heavy accent, sheathing his sword. He poised himself as if he were propositioning at court, anything between a duel and a suggestion of courting. "An I seuppose yoor schamberlain iss missing, no?"

"Very astute sir," I conceded with an inclination of my head. I was eager to move, if for no other reason than to keep myself and Camilla out of harms way. Of course, if I could find Schulz in the meantime, that would be ideal. "I suggest we go search for him immediately, but if you have more pressing business of your own I will not hold you to any quest, sir."

"Non, I am ze ambassador ah-myself. I will, howevere, follow ze innocent ladie," He remarked chivalrously, smiling kindly to Camilla. She gave him a dazzling smile I could almost believe was sincere, had I not seen her give the same to other courtiers of the court. I saw no reason to pause, and so at my ushering we heading into the main corridor of the west wing of the palace. I had seen violence before, but the deaths of the men a scant few minutes ago and the bodies we found strewn across the floor made me quite glad Camilla and I had not yet eaten breakfast. Some furniture was overturned in haste whilst others were unmoved and even unblemished from the blood that pooled in various imperfections and crevasses of the tiled floor.

"By the hammer, what could cause such calamity?" I asked aloud, kneeling down to close the eyes of a tilean swordsman. He was no more than a boy, the barest hint of facial hair creeping onto his chin. In the distance, the clash of steel on steel and cries could still be heard, but before we could go further, a familiar face rounded the corner.

Captain Muller and a retinue of twenty of our imperial men followed him. Some were bruised and bandaged but all looked in fighting shape. The Captain called his men to a halt, his eyes on me first and foremost. He looked past my shoulder and then approached. "Where is the Chamberlain?"

"He wasn't in his rooms." I said, confusion evident on my face. "Are you telling me you didn't get him out?"

"Do you bloody see him with us!?" The Captain growled, frustrated. I did not press the issue, even though I was wild before his eyes fell on Camilla. I was not close to the captain by any stretch, but I knew that look. I stepped between the two of them before he even raised his sword to point at the woman. "Who is she? Why are you traveling with a tilean trollop? She could be a spy for all you know!"

"She is not a spy, hell the men tried to kill her!" I said vehemently.

The Captain narrowed his eyes at me, a bit of shrewdness finally poking through the haze of anger. "Did you meet her yesterday? Where were you last night?" He asked.

I laughed as if it were the most predictable and pathetic thing I had ever heard, clutching my staff in both hands, jiggling it as I spoke to give my words more of a mocking tone. "Yes, truly. 'This woman sucked my cock so well that I would vouche for her after being here just one day.' Do you listen to yourself? I found her scared out of her mind in the halls and being assailed, and the Brettonian ambassador here helped me defend her. Don't insult me, even I wouldn't sleep with a local woman after one night here."

I was glad I sounded very sure of myself, but I braced myself in case Camilla chortled. Perhaps lying wasn't the most noble thing to do, but it kept us from killing each other. The fact it was my mouth on her rather than the opposite gave a bit of truth to the falsehood, and the mental image of her lips below my belt had my heart suddenly racing. Gods, I was hopeless, wasn't I? The small thought Camilla might be a spy and I was blindly guarding her after a wondrous night was also an unsettling prospect, but no, I wasn't going to entertain that idea at the moment. One enemy at a time.

"So, lead on Captain. Wherever the Chamberlain is, he's not in the west wing." I replied.

Bodacious Bounties: Bounty Hunter AU

Neil raised an eyebrow with a debonair flair and leaned in closer, but despite his body language, something made him hesitate.

What?

No. No, this kind of thing only happens in a dream or a commercial on the holovids. Bad ones too. The commercials, not the dreams. The dreams are usually good. But this was not something that just happened. Neil knew he was cute, handsome even, at least on good days. But just some... some spacer babe showing up and flirting with him? I mean, he wouldn't say no, and he had to ignore the alarm bells. But they were really loud. So loud he wouldn't be surprised if they were audible to others. But he looked at her, and his anatomy took over, the blood seeping from his brain to his lower half. And her outfit was so tight, and her body was so full, and her face was so fucking cute.

He put his hand on his mouth and squinted at her, a knowing smile growing on his face. "You seem like a Callisto girl," he said, referring to the relatively popular, sleek interplanetary transport brand of starship that were renowned for their maneuverability and style. The front of the transport was designed to increase downforce and includes intakes for rapid air cooling, as well as ducts to increase underbody air flow when flying. The aero efficiancy was spectacular value for money, and it was just below being a luxury transport.

"Tell you what-" He said, and without warning, he vaulted over the counter, sliding his feet onto the floor just next to her so they were very close. He rested his elbows on the desk and said. "I got nothing to do the rest of the day, anyway. I can maybe show you some of the ships the station has? I know the guy that owns the place. Might get you a discount. Of course-" He patted himself as if he were a car. "I'm not quite as fast as a Callisto, but I don't think you'd want a one and done guy..." He reached into his pants pocket and produced some shades, donning them, before reduntantly sliding them down so he could see eye to eye with her. "Would ya?"

Neil played it both angles. He knew she was flirting with him, but he wanted to present himself as someone who wanted to help rather than just some sucker. But he did also add in some heavy flirting in case that was not a bluff from her.

"Edwards! Are you done out there!?" David yelled from the office.

"No sir! I'm with a customer!" He called over his shoulder, before giving her a subtle wink and placing a finger to his lips. "Ready to get out of here? By the way, my name's Neil."

Bodacious Bounties: Bounty Hunter AU

Chapter 1

M5.213
Hyperion 3, Orbiting Titan
Business Quadrant

---

Oil leaked out in a heavy gush of blackness, coating Neil's shirt and spattering on his cheek. He vainly tried to halt the flow of the spill, but the bolt was stubborn and the dribble on the floor grew larger. He let out a frustrated cry, overly dramatizing the minor annoyance for his own amusement and sanity. He spat out the inky liquid that had managed to fleck his lips and readjust the piping, muttering 'come on you fucker, be nice' as he muscled the thing shut. He would need to replace the oil along with replacing the calibrator for the sublight drive. Maybe they could find the part of the station, but it probably cost his left nut to buy. Which, of course, meant they would have to charge this nice old lady a full set, and Neil wouldn't do that without speaking to her first. Unless...

Footsteps approached, and Neil wheeled himself out from under the VT-1890 light transport, lifting off his stained goggles. "Hey George, we got any sublight capacitors? Fifth gen, preferably."

George was a short, older man. He had mottled, somewhat dark skin and a shaved head. He wore baggy pants and a stained shirt, moving a cart of ion power couplings. He was a little, wiry man, but he was strong as an ox. If you were as strong as George, that was worth boasting about. Neil liked the old man. George always ribbed him and he did it back.

"Mmm sublight? Nah, I don't think we got any sublight capacitors here. Maybe third gen." George theorized. "Got some oil on ya, Neil."

"Yeah, yeah. Third gen?"

"Mmhmm, third gen. Ask Griffon down the ramp. He outta know." George said, lifting the dense couplings out and setting them in the dispensers for later. Once he was half empty, he started wheeling them elsewhere to finish off the load. "Yeah, ask Griff." He repeated. Neil wasn't going to ask Griffon. Griffon was an asshole who wouldn't admit he had anything, even if it served his own purposes. Neil was going to go looking himself.

"Bout time for lunch, innit?" Neil called back as George rounded out of sight.

"Whatever you say, Neil, whatever you say." He said back, his voice carrying around. Neil grinned and hopped up, deciding he would take his break now rather than later so he could deal with the customers on a full stomach. He punched out on the dataclock and left the Colonial Mechanic, heading into the wide atrium of the Hyperium 3 Station to eat at Soak Stack, a dirty, albeit popular dive for spacers and locals alike. The logo was a busty woman balancing three frothing mugs on each hand, holding two and smiling even as the top two spilled onto her cleavage.

50 minutes later...

With a stomach of bratwurst, booze, and bread, Neil felt full to burst walking back. He had a few extra credits in his pocket from the excursion. Not many people could say they went out to eat and came back with more money than they spent, but what could he say? He was a winner. He hadn't yet wiped the oil off his face, however, other than a small rubbing with a napkin. The look suited him, he fancied. Matched his hair and eyes and reminded him of his days in the Valc, back during the war. Old memories began to creep back, but he shoved them away. Not today. He would not be scrounging up old wounds just to get depressed today. Nope.

"Mrs. Riggard is here," He heard from the office as he passed. David Alten had his eyes peeled to the cogitator, but when Neil stopped, he glanced his way. He tried to freak his employees out, as if he knew where they were with some sort of psychic powers, but Neil knew he had a camera outside of his office on a mini-window at the bottom left corner of his screen. He knew that because he had broken in before to get the keys to the warehouse for parts before. Sometimes you had to stretch the rules here if you wanted to meet the quota.

But he guessed that was every job.

"I'm bout to see her boss-man. Keep ya briches on." Neil remarked casually, striding down the corridor after only hesitating a moment.

"Next time you're late I'll write you up." He heard behind him. "Might hire one of the spacers out there, instead."

"Yessir boss!" Neil said, saluting even out of eyesight. His voice went down in volume when he spoke next. "You can space deez nuts, bitch." And facetiously groped his crotch with his back turned to the increasingly distant camera. Neil saw his friend Paul smiling, having evidently heard. They highfived and Neil turned the corner and stepped up to the front desk to see the elderly Mrs. Riggard. White haired and lined face, she wore a jumpsuit and stood alone, evidently a system traveler on a holiday, if Neil remembered correctly. The lobby was moderately sized, with multiple chairs and a telescreen at the corner for people waiting. There was a huge sign of 'no weapons allowed' at the door.

"Hi, I'm here to pick up my VT-1890," she said with a hopeful smile.

"Hi Mrs. Riggard, yeah I took a look at it yesterday and found there was a bit more work we needed to do with it. So I spent all morning with it, and it's getting oil replaced as we speak. But there's some bad news. You need a new capacitor for your sublight engine. The cost will really depend on how long you're willing to wait."

There was a small gleam in her eye, as if Neil was a challenge to be overcome. He admired the tenacity, but unfortunately no matter what she did, capitalism was going to win. "And what is a capacitor exactly?" She inquired, hoping to stump Neil. Neil smiled with amusement, though he tried to hide it.

"A capacitor is in your engine is needed for torque, ma'am. It connects the wires and is used to giving your sublight engines a bit more oomph."

She shook her head in little movements, as if she was trying to get Neil to speak in even more layman terms. Neil's opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. He placed his hands together like he was performing shadow puppets and moved them from left to right. "So, you want your ship to go zoom zoom? Then a capacitor is needed. You can wait a day and pay a lot, or wait two weeks and pay kind of a lot. And before you ask, I am the manager." He lied, placing a hand to his chest.

Mrs. Riggard blustered, and then walked away, pulling out her communicator and calling whoever in order to vent or wire money, he didn't know. Neil placed his elbows on the counter and watched her walk away with a blasé expression writ across his face. "Ah, the wonders of retail." He said aloud, before the next in line walked up to speak to him. He realized he should have escaped to the back before, so he pushed himself up off the desk.

"Sorry, I'mma need to-" He started, lifting his thumb back to point at the door, about to say he was getting back to it. But the latest customer was probably the hottest woman he had seen in months. He couldn't believe he hadn't noticed her before. Neil dropped his hand and felt his mouth go dry. "Uh, something you need?"

The Enemy Beyond: Warhammer 40,000 Inquisitor RP

"This is bigger than we thought," Ortega said, ducking back behind the hab-wall with me. Even from this distance, the smell of prometheum was evident, threatening to sting the nostrils. Irban Retch hadn't been as helpful as I would have liked, but what he did tell us gave us a rough direction and we made all speed across the slums to reach this place. It was an old factory, refurbished from an even older imperial frigate. The parapets had oxidized, leaving the tips of the normally blackened steel a dull grey. Refuse and old, rotted corpses littered the ground before the gaping maw of what I surmised was the bay, old chains and gridded rafters creaking as men gathered on the floor below, igniting machinery in some form of cleansing, the purpose of which I knew not what.

"We are following a system spanning conspiracy in league with the ruinous powers. Would you prefer they congregate in smaller groups?" I said, my voice dripping with barely suppressed irritation.

I was not unused to working with people not in my retinue, at least in a limited capacity. However, the last few days had been quite taxing and at the current moment, my lover and the woman who was rapidly becoming my closest confidant was captured by a cell of chaos terrorists in the bosom of a hive. I was in no mood for the constant questioning. Ortega merely grunted, checking his weapon. He bore a combat shotgun with a reduced barrel, granting greater concealment.

My eyes followed the dilapitated spires of the ancient warship and the age old furnishings of the inexorable modifications and chopping the locals would attempt on it to utilize it for their own ends. Eventually my eyes spied an entrance to the south, on the left side of the greater bay. An ornate helicum column framed arch that was now resplendent with grotesque graffiti that somehow managed to make a bastardation of even the horrid symbols of the accursed chaos gods.

"Are you with me?" I asked Ortega, eyes moving from the field of debris to the arbites.

Ortega nodded grimly, cocking his shotgun as an assurance. I nodded and began to move, keeping low behind the wall before crawling our way to a ruined groundcar. We paused to assure ourselves we weren't seen, and then made our way to the archway, stepping down the stairs into the darkness while rusted steel and petrochemicals invaded our senses.

There's Always a Price: Sci Fi Bounty Hunters

Dirk smiled grimly beneath his helm. He knew the celebrations weren't entirely to his or Jocasta's benefit, but it was a pretty loud indication the bastard was here. He set his visor on multi-search, the digital screen relaying back eighteen different appearances of the target's visage, all from signs or paintings made in thanks. He turned his head to the 'north' as the spire saw fit, gazing down the thoroughfare as the crowd began to part, an undulating wave of civilians and hawkers, raising their arms to keep their food or goods from bumping into the chest of other festival goers.

Dirk saw him before his reticle even honed in and identified the target.

He was a slight man with sharp features, a small scar on his nose and deep, sunken eyes. Just as the hologram had shown that past week. He seemed nervous, but optimistically happy. Dirk watched his procession grow, as more men and women waved to him or wanted to follow in his wake. Dirk checked his path but could find no reason for his movements. There was no great prize waiting for him down the street or someone important waiting to greet him.

Dirk lifted his modified DMX blaster and aimed down the sight, placing the butt of the blaster on the small rampart of the office building. As the face enlarged in his vision, he could see every crease on the man's lined face. He saw the light in his eyes and the happiness of the others around him. Dirk knew this man had stolen from the most dangerous criminal in the system, had given his wealth to the poor, and had like as not been encouraged to show himself by popular demand. Dirk was almost certain Voldargu could be described as a good person, or at the least, a bad person trying to do right. Word had it he used to belong to the gangs of the lower levels before he had escaped and joined some spacers in a job, the details of which were not known. All of the info from his dataslate ran through his mind, and had he been a more gullible man, he might have had second thoughts.

But this was not Dirk's first kill. If Dirk did not kill him, someone else would, and if they did not, Phyraelon Deadstar would invade this hab and kill everyone who had touched his money. There was no winning here. So Dirk did the merciful thing.

He began recording the view on his visor, readjusted his DMX blaster, and pulled the trigger.

The high powered bolt made to penetrate laminate merc armor scorched through Vol's neck, cauterizing the wound even as it blew a hole straight through his flesh. He died with an uneasy smile on his lips and a hand shaking his. Dirk rolled away from the edge of the building, putting Jocasta on the comm.

"Target is down. Make yourself scarce." His voice rang over the comm, and he gave her the coordinates to the body. If they could find the corpse in a relatively unguarded position, they would take the head. If they couldn't, the recording should be sufficient. Dirk vaulted over the building and free fell into the alley, activating his jump back a dozen feet from the ground to cushion his fall.

Death's Edge: A Warhammer Story

I took the immaculate sheets, already stained with my blood, ripped off a clean stretch of it and placed it under my armpit as I took a bottle of tilean spirits and doused my hand. The pain seared me and I nearly swooned, but it woke me up and put a crispness to my senses. I wrapped the newly made bandage about my palm as tightly as I could, grimacing. I felt sand sliding through an hourglass in my mind as the banging against the chamberlains door echoed across the hall, but I knew we could do little to halt them in our current state.

"Did you recognize the gentlemen that ran in here?" I asked her as I rolled over the bed to the other side.

"Tey weer frum last night," she said, following my lead and speaking in Riekspiel. I was glad for that, accompanied by her good memory. It further proved my theory she would not be a liability in a tight situation like this. I quickly donned some breeches and shoes and threw my cloak on, grabbing my skull-headed staff and retrieving the pistol I had procured from one of Marco's toughs the night before. "Can yu do that agayn?" Camilla asked inquisitively.

My mind whirred before I realized she meant the smiting light from Sigmar.

"I have a few tricks, but no. I almost did not think I could do it there." I said. Were it not for the blood gushing from my hand and the desperation in my voice, I did not know if my lord would have noticed the plight to answer. The world was large after all, even for a god, and sometimes in his wisdom he deigned not to aid his faithful. And even if he had been watching, I was not exactly the pinnacle of the order.

A crack erupted and shouts rose. My heart leaped in my throat, and I sprinted out of the room, Camilla following behind wearing a smart jerkin and brown trousers. They hugged her curves delightfully, but I hadn't the time to appreciate it as we leaped out of the door and ran down the hall, rushing into the broken door of the chamberlain's rooms to find the four men that had run in to slay him in his bed. I was just as stunned as they were to see the chamberlain was absent.

One man turned when we entered, and the other three simultaneously followed his lead to looked up. I glanced around to make certain the fat codger hadn't snuck behind a curtain, before my gaze met theirs. Two of them held spears, one had a sword at his hip and the other lifted a crossbow my way. I did not recognize the man, and in fact their uniforms were of prince romeo's retinue. I wasn't certain how trustworthy that was, and at the moment all I cared about were their designs on the lives of myself and my master. I quickly threw myself across the lobby to avoid the crossbow bolt, the armor piercing missile embedding itself an inch into the fine wood of the partially ajar door, swinging it open in time for Camilla to come in behind me.

"Camilla, run!" I said, trying to get to my feet. My hand burned with pain as it pushed against the floor, my heavy headed staff bumping into the carpeted floor as I lifted myself. The two spearman charged me at the swordsman's orders. I lifted my pistol at the two tileans bearing down on me, aimed, and fired. The pistol discharged in a roaring puff of smoke. The air was clear in my eyesight, however, and I saw the ball hit the man on the right at the curve of his breastplate. It caused a dent in the armor, but to my surprise the ball ricocheted and punched straight through his fellow spearman's temple, blood and bone fragments flying out to stain the expensive floor.

I supposed the gods did have a sense of humor.

Hastily I blocked the first spear thrust with my staff, but my injury and the crossbowman in the back reloading his weapon did not bode well for me.

Death's Edge: A Warhammer Story

"Muori la feccia del Nord!"

I awoke from my slumber and possibly the best night I had experienced in many years to the sight of a large, black bearded Tilean raising a sidesword up so he could swiftly end my life. I would have thought I was dreaming, but the yell was too loud and Camilla's body was too warm and comfortable. Instantly, I recognized Camilla's naked form was still on me and right in the path of danger, her face snuggled into my chest. Her arms, normally very welcome to be clinging to my form, added her weight to myself in my suddenly panicked state. I did the only thing I could, reaching back and ripping the heavy pillow from behind my head to cushion the savage chop from the would-be assassin. Feathers flew everywhere and a Tilean curse followed.

"Camilla!" I cried, echoing my cries of passion just hours before. The slightly different cadence likely tipped her off to the seriousness of the situation, because she lifted her head and only one blink of her eyes was enough for the woman to know something was very much off. The muscled Tilean ripped the pillow out of my hands and pointed his sword at Camilla, hoping to skewer us both in one. I grabbed the sheet and did what I could when his sword point shot forward, turning the blade aside with my hand obscured by the sheet.

Blood spurted from my opened palm, but aside from the sudden wet I only felt adrenaline coursing through me. Camilla scrambled off me and I shuddered as our lower halves separated, my other hand now grabbing at the hilt of the embedded sword, the point of the blade thankfully misdirected into the mattress by a mere inch. Sigmar must have kept watch over me, because that was twice I had cheated death in as many moments. I kicked out, my bare foot hitting the Tilean in the face, scraping him across the mouth. He grunted and fell back, loosening the grip on his sword.

"Sigmar take this sinful blood," I intoned, rising from the bed and squeezing my ruined hand. Blood seeped from my wound and dropped heavily to the floor. "Imbue me with power and show me your might, engulf this pagan scum in light!"

I shrieked in pain fear as my arm was suddenly not of myself anymore, growing rigid as my fingers uncurled. From my wound a flame roared to life, and a projectile in the shape of the blazing twin tailed comet erupted from my hand and hit the recovering assassin, immolating him as surely as a dwarfen drakkthrower. He screeched in horror, wailing to Myrmida as he was engulfed, the flames clinging to his skin as if they were cloth. He hit the floor, writhing on the carpet as his nerves were singed and his life was taken from him.

I gripped my arm, my hand scorched, but my wound now cauterized. Pain surged from the tip of my fingers to my forearm, and I knew right there I would not be able to use my hand for anything for many days unless I performed a healing rite, and I did not have the time or preparation for that. Outside of the bedroom, screams echoed and the clash of steel on steel was ringing across the halls.

"Is this a traditional morning or have I caused a stir?" I joked weakly, glad to see Camilla was unharmed.

There's Always a Price: Sci Fi Bounty Hunters

Dirk pressed two buttons on his wrist multi-tool and brought up the holo-image of their quarry. The blue light coalesced into a dark haired, scraggly man in his mid thirties with two nasty scars of his chin and a bionic implant in his left temple. Dirk transferred the likeness to Jocasta's data pad and removed the holo-projection. From all the commotion surrounding them, being conspicuous would be fairly easy until they were right on top of their prey, more than likely.

"You head down the central drag. Keep your eyes peeled and don't stop for sweets. I'll go up top and search from above the hab. If you see him, contact me before you engage unless you have a guaranteed shot. Remember, we want his body cold." The armored hunter said, and stepped to the left, marching past a crowd of young parents who went from giggling over their children to stumbling out of Dirk's way. The bounty hunter stepped into the sidestreet between the main roads that hosted this strange festival, and found a pulley-ladder positioned at the wall of an apartment building.

He grabbed the ladder and unholstered one of his pistols, pointing up at the carbon fibre strings that gripped the ladder and could release it from the ground at a moment's notice with a counter weight. With a quick second to aim, he fired, the bolt shattering the mechanism that kept the counterweight in place, sending it hurtling down as the ladder was yanked up, Dirk in tow. He kicked up the engines of his jump pack just enough to let him continue his ascent even after the ladder had jolted short, and he easily landed atop the apartment, now able to witness a line of buildings segmented across the fifth level of the spire.

He knelt down to a knee and reached into his belt, producing a secondary barrel he kept sequestered on his person, in case of bounties in need of a more precise touch. He screwed it onto his heavy blaster's barrel, spinning it before it clicked into place. The suppressor reduced the injection of gas and modified the actuating module, but unlike most suppressors it added range rather than reduced it. However, the bolt would pack less of a punch, and should not be utilized when firing on someone with armor. A long ganger on the other hand would be just the prey he wanted. He then placed an opto-electric collimator atop the blaster to help with aiming, and then he began to move, running from building to building like a ghost.