Editing Bleeding Out (Warhammer High) (section)

===Unpleasant Repercussions===


The Emperor clenched his hand over his fist, resting them on his chin.  His granddaughter Isis and her friend Julius, bruises and all, sat in chairs before his desk, with Ahriman and, true to form, his son Konrad, standing behind them.  On his desk was a report from the coroner’s officer, detailing the scene of grisly genemodding Curze had found.  Next to it was another report, from the Tetra hive Praetor’s office, describing how several unidentified genemodded men had been found with various contusions and burns on their bodies, splayed out in a garbage bin nearby.  Yet a third report, this one penned by a very confused Arbitrator Judge, bespoke the seeming contradictions that the Civil Honors Union suffered regarding their opinions of their sanctioned status and governmental funding.

The Emperor slowly looked up at both teens.  Julius, he noted, was swooning in nerves and fear, and Isis just looked sullen and exhausted.  Ahriman, on the other hand, looked so embarrassed that it was honestly quite distracting, while Curze…was Curze, and looked no more or less stable and rational than he ever did.

“Well.”  The Emperor stacked the three reports on his desk and swept them into an envelope.  “Seems I’m not the only one who’s had an interesting evening.  Let’s start with you, Sieur Pius.  What on Terra possessed you to think that discharging a Hellgun in public was wise?”

“Knowledge of the alternative, my Liege,” the dark-haired young man said, his voice nearly cracking under the strain.  Then, he was seventeen.  “Those Babu thugs were going to gut us.  Better alive and penalized than…well, dead.  Sir.”  The Emperor nodded slowly, wondering where the kid had even gotten his hands on that kind of hardware, and suspecting that the answer would involve pointed questions with either his father or one of the Legions with which he had fought.

“Isis, why did you go into the hive?”

“Because I think – I know – there’s more to this than we’ve found out,” Isis said urgently.  Her tone bespoke disappointment and genuine concern.  “I can not believe that a single junior maintenance technician could have possibly smuggled a sniper rifle into Startseite without assistance.”

“And thusly informed, and sure in the solidity of your intelligence, you then ventured in the absence of any sort of protection, into the depths of the poorest and most crime-ridden hab of the most impoverished block of the most dangerous Cube in the entire Hive Grid,” the Emperor finished.

Isis squirmed.  “I know it was unwise, now.  But we did find out some useful things.”

“Yes, I’m sure.  You’ll have all the time in the world to relay them to your father when you see him next,” the Emperor said, his voice laden with hidden meaning.  Isis blanched.

The Emperor lifted one hand slightly, as if it were the cup of a scale.  “Both of you disappoint me.  Such recklessness…you thought to find some hint of a conspiracy, didn’t you?”

“We did, Sire,” Julius said, a bead of sweat gathering on his brow.

“And if you had found it?  What then?  Fighting?  Flight?  You were equipped for neither,” the Emperor said.  “You were nearly killed by a group of criminals.”

“Had we gone with backup, we would have found nothing,” Isis said bluntly.

“Which, conveniently enough, is what you found anyway,” the Emperor said.  He lowered his hand, tapping the envelope.  “You see, now I have to deal with the fact that my own granddaughter was seen shooting someone in the hive, mere days after her own cousin was shot.  Now, I have to deal with the fact that Terrans are wondering if perhaps there was more to this shooting than random terrorism, when previously there HAD NOT BEEN,” he said, his voice rising.  The blood in Julius’ face drained.  “You two have, in a stroke, complicated this investigation to the extent that it may not conclude peacefully.  Now, we have a brooding gang war in a hive on my own doorstep, and the fact that one of my warriors is a criminal mastermind has been aired to any who were watching.”  There was neither mercy nor regret in his demeanor as he leaned forward.  “Neither of you are ever to enter the hives again.  Isis, should your father choose to levy some other constraints upon you, I will voice no objection.  Sieur Pius, I would think carefully if I were you, regarding the possibility of being seen in public for a few months.”  He didn’t need Warp mastery to interject the specter of something terrible into his voice.

Both teens recoiled, but stayed silent.  The Emperor glanced over both older men, but neither said a word, with Curze practically radiating his disgust for the entire affair.  The Emperor leaned back in his seat, reining in his temper.  “Now.  Both of you, get home.  I imagine I’m not the only person waiting to speak to either of you,” he said coldly.  Both stood, Julius looking like he was ready to vomit, Isis just looking sad.  As soon as they were out of the room, the Emperor turned his anger on the two older men.
“Now.  They’re seventeen years old, with no security clearance to speak of, and desperate for insight.  What are your excuses?”

Ahriman spoke first.  “I apologize for not mentioning it sooner, but I sensed it would be unwise to make mention of this in front of the children.”

“Mentioning what?” the Emperor demanded.

“Our search was not so fruitless.  We have found more to this than the Arbites detected,” Curze finished.  “One of the witnesses to Keiter’s…deviancy…bore the taint of Tzeentch.  Not enough to control him,” he said, correctly anticipating his father’s next question, “but enough to confuse him.  Render him useless as a witness.”

“I obtained that much from him.  But as to whether Chaos plays a role here or is merely seeking an advantage, I suspect the latter,” Ahriman confessed.

The Emperor sighed, staring through the tangled mass of futures and pasts into which he could look.  Ahriman was right, of course.  There was no sign of the taint on Keiter.  He had seen as much before, but couldn’t shake the suspicion that there had been more to it than that.  This little investigation had proven him wrong.

Keiter had acted alone.  That was the end of it.  And now he had an entire criminal organization on his doorstep, howling for his granddaughter’s blood.  Curze’s growling voice cut through his reverie.  “Father, if you will allow it, I promised Kelly that I would be there when she needed me.”

The Emperor looked up sharply, but withheld his rage.  “Very well, Konrad.  Do be sure to tell your daughter what you’ve found, regarding Isis’ willingness to see this to its end.  Do not, however, make mention of the Chaotic element you found.  She’s scarred enough.”

“I agree.”  Konrad bowed shortly, backing out of the office.  The door closed behind him, leaving Ahriman alone with the Emperor.  The Emperor slowly stood, but before he could speak, Ahriman took a knee.

“My Liege.  I feel that I must ask you something,” he said.  “I know that the taint of Chaos we have found was not the causative factor behind this catastrophe.  Is it possible that my own sight is tainted?  Was I lead on this hunt?”

The Emperor stared at the Librarian, his disgust rising.  “If that is the case, Sieur Ahriman, COUNSEL is not what you need from me.  Now…abandon this foolish quest.  See to your students.  And never take it upon yourself to perform interrogation upon my citizens ever again.”

“As you will it, my Liege,” Ahriman said, feeling the hand of shame clenching around his heart.

“This shrine of Ruin you found,” the Emperor said next, glaring furiously at the Librarian.  “It was a decoy?”

“It was.  Not a hint of the taint on it,” Ahriman admitted.  “It was just decoration, as far as we can tell.  Or a taunt.”

The Emperor’s hands gripped the envelope of reports.  “A taunt?”

“So I sense.”  Ahriman shrugged uncomfortably.

“Then perhaps, Brother Ahriman, you should spend a little time in the company of Lord Magnus, who will, no doubt, be quite willing to aide you in the clearing of your ethereal senses,” the Emperor retorted.  “The mere existence of an Icon of Chaos in MY city suggests that there is far more to this gang than we thought, and even if they are dupes, somebody here knows its source,” he added, a quiet anger at the affront coloring his words.

“I shall indeed, my Liege, and I agree entirely,” Ahriman said, bowing respectfully.  “I shall meditate on this with my soul cleansed of distraction.”

“Then I suggest you wait until the school year ends, Ahzek, since your obligations to your students ends in a few days, and I am more than capable of following this up on my own,” the Emperor said angrily.

Ahriman bowed contritely.  “So it shall be, my Liege, thank you for your understanding.”  Ahriman took his leave, as the Emperor slid the reports into his desk, clenching a fist.  After a moment’s introspection, he stood, the confrontation forcing an uncomfortable realization upon him.  He had dispensed the punishments the situation called for.  Now, it was time to make amends.


Morticia leaned on the railing of her bed, testing her weight.  With an effort, she swung her bare legs over the edge and stood, gripping the stainless steel bar tight.  Grant clutched her arm, helping her balance, until she nodded, and he backed up a bit.  “Okay, ready?” he asked through his mask.

“Yep, let’s go,” she said.  He marveled at her resilience; her voice was almost back to normal after less than a week.  He gently guided her across the room to the small bathroom at the end, and helped her ease in, closing the door behind her.  While she saw to her needs, he quickly changed the bed and swapped out several IV bags.  He was just finishing the sterilization of the IV feed when the bathroom opened back up.  Morticia took a few steps towards the bed, then paused and accepted Grant’s help on the return trip.

“Okay, ready, ma’am?” he asked, leaning over.  By means of response, she swung herself over the rail by herself, just remembering to tug her surgical dress into place to preserve her modesty.  Grant smiled behind his mask.  “You’re recovering faster than any patient I’ve ever seen,” he said.

“Thanks,” she said happily.  She grabbed the pillow on the table beside her and gingerly slid it down behind herself.  “What time is lights-out around here?” she asked.  “I’ve usually gone back under before then.”

“Well, we’re technically past it now,” Grant said.  “It’s supposed to be 2200 local.”

“And tonight, no sedatives unless I need them, right?” she asked.

“No, not any more, ma’am.  I suspect that your biology would reject them at this point anyway,” Grant said.

“Yes.  Did I ever tell you about that?  It might be important,” Morticia asked.  She irritably flipped her lank grey hair back out of her eyes.  “I need a haircut…”

“No, my Lady, you didn’t,” Grant said.

“Please call me Morticia, Grant.  There’s nothing noble about me right now,” Morticia said.  Grant fidgeted in professional confusion for a moment before acceding to the instruction.

“I’ll forget a few times, I promise…but very well, Morticia.”

“Great.  Then I think you should know that I’ll probably be up for a few more hours.”

“You need your rest, ma’am,” Grant pointed out.

“That was fast.”

“Morticia.  Sorry.”

“Well, I’m not human,” Morticia said with a shrug.  “We don’t need as much sleep.”

Grant stared.  “I’m sorry?”

“I’m not baseline.  I told you yesterday, remember?” Morticia prompted.  “All of us are genemodded.”

“I see…and nocturnal behavior is part of it?” Grant asked.

“Basically.”  An uncomfortable silence followed.

“Well, Madam…Morticia, I think of course that you should do what makes you most comfortable.”

“I’ll tell me what would make me more comfortable: solid food,” Morticia said emphatically.

“I would imagine,” Grant said, making a note.  “I’ll see what I can do.”


Mortarion watched the news from his office, seething.  The Head Du Jour was talking about how Ahzek Ahriman, of all people, had been sighted with – surprise, surprise – the Night Haunter.  In the hives below the Palace, no less.

“’Subtle,’” Mortarion said bitterly.  “Yes.  Subtle indeed.”  He fumed at the holograph before stabbing the display with a finger, switching it off.  He glanced at the clock.  The tiny digital readout said 2230.  He swept his personal belongings into his satchel and swung it up, determined to visit his daughter again before he went home.  She should have still been up.


Grant returned to Morticia’s room, shaking his head ruefully.  “My apologies, Morticia, but your case file says no solid food for a bit longer.”

“Damn.  I’m getting tired of this liquid stuff,” Morticia said ruefully.  “Still, thanks for checking.”

“No problem, ma’am…Morticia.  Sorry.”  Morticia grinned as the nurse visibly shook himself.  “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Actually, do you know how the case is going so far?  They won’t let me watch the news,” Morticia asked.

“I’m sorry, I don’t,” Grant replied.  “The news is mostly biography and speculation.  The Arbites are keeping it quiet for now.”

Mortarion stepped from his limousine to the cold concrete of the garage, brooding.  “I will return in some time.  Don’t bother leaving the car running,” he muttered to the driver.

“As you say, my Lord,” the driver said, rolling the window up.  Mortarion ignored him, walking into the hospital, acknowledging the salutes of the guards with a distant wave.  The waiting elevator carried him down to where his daughter was resting.

Morticia chuckled.  “I think I would probably be best served by a news blackout.  I don’t want to just make myself too anxious.”

Grant smiled.  “I’m very glad you’ve been able to keep yourself in good spirits, Morticia.  I know it can be tempting to get into a spiral of despair after such an incident.”

She shrugged slightly.  “Not much else to do but think about how badly I want to leave,” Morticia said.  “But thanks.”

A loud rap on the window caught both their attention.  Mortarion was hovering behind it like a green thundercloud.  Grant glanced over at Morticia, catching a nod from her, before moving to the door.  No sooner had he opened it than Mortarion was inches from his face.

“Your conduct, nurse, has been highly inappropriate,” Mortarion bit off.  “Every single time I’ve seen you here, you’ve been acting rather casually towards my daughter.”

“By her specific request, my Lord, as you are welcome to ascertain,” Grant said curtly.  Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked out of the isolation room.  Mortarion glared daggers at his back until the door closed behind him.

“Dad, quit it,” Morticia said.  Her voice carried through the glass to Mortarion’s superhuman ears.  “He’s really nice.”

“Too casual, for someone whose responsibilities involve tending to royalty,” Mortarion said coldly, tapping the speech button on the window.

“Too bad,” Morticia said with a glare.  “He’s a very bright guy.  He’s not being inappropriate at all.”

Mortarion seethed, but couldn’t find the spite to argue with his daughter.  “Fine.  How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Morticia said.  She raised her hands, moving them normally.  “No nerve damage at all.  The doctors say I should be able to walk on my own really soon.”

“Good,” Mortarion said, his tension fading a little.