The Ashen Cloak

The air was clearer up here. Zhillik wasn’t a particularly large Hive City, especially by Imperium standards, but it was sizeable enough to create its own micro-climate. From this lofty Spire, he could see for miles. Across to the officer-level platforms and hab-towers. Down into the slum depths of Zhillik. And up into the very peaks of the city. He’d been here for weeks, becoming a shadow, a part of the Spire’s architecture.

He was never given a name. He was told during his upbringing that such an affectation would only get in the way, or put his fellow brothers in danger. Without a name, people would not remember him. People would not ask questions. And people would have no answers. If he was ever captured, he would have nothing to give his interrogators. But the thought of capturing or even knowing of his existence was a laughable concept. To locate and reprehend a member of the Clade of the Ashen Cloak was like trying to grasp Shadow itself. Even within the Cult there are only a scant few that are aware they even exist, such is their secrecy.

He pressed a sequence of buttons on the control stub on his belt loop. Within seconds a small Servo-Skull descended from a Spire above, trailing a network of power cables and interfaces that almost resembled a tail. He reached for one of slender wires  within this mechanical mess, lifting the cable jack connector up to a small port on the side of his mask. Within seconds, his visor had become a myriad of data and holo-feeds. Technology like this was hard to come by, especially this far out on the fringes of Imperial Space. The Cult invested heavily in both time and resource to its handful of brothers and sisters who made up the Ashen Cloak, so vital where they in the overarching plans the Endless Deep had for Vernox.

He scanned the Holo footage and began to assemble his Rifle. Weeks of waiting had led to the perfect conditions. Weather patterns, footfall, social interaction patterns, light level, humidity, visibility. There wouldn’t be a better time. As he slid the rifle bolt into its receiver, he began thinking of extraction. He was exposed and on his own, but this was nothing new. The angle of his shot he’d chosen was wilfully obscure, and it would take Hive Enforcement Officers hours to even comprehend the shot to be feasibly possible from the angle he would attempt. More than enough time for him to slip away into the shadows once again. The barrel screwed into the stock, blackened and dulled by hand as to not catch the light. As the scope slid into place, he began one last wait. Nightfall was approaching.

In one of the highest spires of Zhillik, Officorum Prefect Dhan was relaxing in one of his favourite chair, looking out from his Luxe-Hab and across the smog down into the city. As he sipped his mid-shelf Amsec from the plasteel beaker, he was completely oblivious that this sub-standard beverage would be the last thing he ever tasted. The assassin was dialled in, and had his rifle trained on Dhan for the best part of 2 hours, biding his time. As his finger edged towards the trigger, he noticed Dhan hear his door-comm, and get up to open the door. As he returned to this hab, he noticed Dhan was no longer alone, and was pouring a glass of Amsec for his guest. A potential witness. This complicated things.

All of a sudden, the assassin’s wrist began to light up. There was an incoming vox hail. He was confused. No-one knew this frequency, and it was encrypted on several levels. Where was this coming from?

‘By now he should have arrived. Senior Administratum Officer Kendall. You see him?’

The Asssassin silently acknowledged.

‘Good. He’s been slowing progress down considerably. As one of the council of Zhillik, we initially thought he was untouchable. But we’re long past that now. Kill them both.”

As he dialled in his Rifle and began inputting trajectory adjustments, he noticed that the two figures were now sat perfectly in line. It was almost too easy.

His Servo-Skull finished synthesising and tweaking the liquid-filled dart and loaded the projectile into the rifle. Now perfectly engineered and balanced to react with both target’s DNA, the single bullet was capable of melting both targets from the inside-out before they even realised the window to the Luxe-Hab had shattered. He prepared to fire.

The Wrist-Comm lit up again.

“Good. Proceed as instructed and return to us. The Blood is Deep…”

He pushed a small glyph on his Wrist-Comm to respond.

“But the Deep is Endless”

And pulled the trigger.