Editing Addicts Acolyte (section)

===CHAPTER TWO===

When Porta got to the club, it was beyond anything he had ever even imagined. Holographic projectors and neon lights filled the smoke-filled halls of the Alofa. It had gold and marble everywhere, and there were men with chiseled features caressing noblewomen, and even more of beautiful women with firm breasts larger than any fruit Porta had seen on holopict commercials. He found Deacon Shekel at one of the balconies. He was a obese man of the Ecclesiarchy, and certainly bloated from all the “donations” he received from the merchants and guilders of his parish. 

“Ah, my new handsome handyman” Shekel said after introductions while licking crystalline substance off some dance-girls round behind. “I trust you are willing to pucker up your ass and shoot any heretic who threatens me and my safety?” “Sure thing sir” Porta bellowed, “but aren’t there any tests or anything?” Deacon waved his hand “I don’t care for any of that shit, if Gangnam vouched for you and sent you here, I’m fine with that. I’m not looking for a Primarch, just someone I could fuck, share my narcotics and keep me safe. You’ll do.”

What followed were the maybe the most interesting months of Porta’s life, at least so far. He learned much of the art of bullshit by attending numerous meetings and functions as a “altar boy” of the Deacon. He even sucked some cardinal’s cock once, which landed him a small apartment just next to the Cathedral of the Saviour Emperor, in which his Deacon administered his rites and performed his duties, with some aforementioned activities which were not very pious. 

Deacon once confided with Porta at his office in mild state of rippling euphoria after a punch of MDMA and a shower with two men and a woman with particularly blonde hair, which was a appreciated rarity among the pollution-soaked populace of Holy Terra. “Joseph, do you know why I manage to write sermons for four hours, go to useless functions and then waddle for several  hours to reach my podium and deliver my ramblings to those dullards who are there because they would be fucked otherwise?” Porta smiled like a happy dog “I would guess this life of privilege motivates you, Sire.” 

The Deacon slammed his fist into the table which cost more than a lifetime of bread for hundred Terran commoners and it almost broke into half “NO! It’s because of drugs. Narcotics. They are a blessing from the Master of Mankind. I’ll tell you something, you cute motherfucker. Without drugs, everything ceases to function. I happen to know that Chancellor of the Estate Imperium, High Lord of the Senatorum Imperialis itself for the duration of this Congress, uses  so much opioids that they have a half an Agri World in the asshole of Segmentum Pacificus to satiate him and his immediate staff.” Deacon waved off the staff member who came exasperated from the crack on the table, and continued “We smoke some Lho to take the edge off, with the High Lord himself, and he concurs with my statement of this policy. It is also reinforced by  our religious writings. Did you know that in Lectitio Divinitatus it says “He causeth the grass to grow for the cattle, and herb for the service of man”. Why doesn’t Adeptus Terra and Judges apply that to the law and let Lho be distributed for commerce, to population?” “His Divine Majesty is not opposed to it, rather he wishes us to utilize our potential fully using the libations He has made to serve us in the completion of  our Manifest Destiny. “ 

From this, Porta knew his time had come. Like his dad before him, he did sufficient amount of sexual favors and got his break for better life. He made friends and intimidated  and persuaded. Finally he found out the place and  attended an secret  function where Deacon and the High Lord did drugs with indecent haste, and Porta took pictures of it all. 

Then he showed them to  Confessor Sessions, staunch opponent of Deacon Shekel. Sessions raged for long time, and when he stopped to breathe he declared that lowly altar boy such as Porta could not fathom the forces he would summon to tackle this heresy infested into the ranks of priesthood. He also added warmly that a smart servant such as him would be compensated immensely for the favor he has committed to the Ecclesiarchy and the Imperium. Porta’s yellow hair wawed when he jumped from joy at his apartment when he got there. He would not suck anyone’s dick anymore. He didn’t know for sure, but he had a inkling he was going to join the holiest of Orders.

Sure enough, roughly a week after Porta had his clandestine meeting with the Confessor, the private chambers of the Deacon were stormed by the angriest and scariest women, perhaps human altogether, that he had ever witnessed. These women wore intricate armor and held firepower worth of  several dozen hive gangs. Deacon sank to his knees immediately after he witnessed a man walking in flanked by knights with swords and large, red shields. “My lord inquisitor, I didn’t expect to receive your company at this hour.” Deacon wavered with an expression on his face resembling a man who had his trousers filled with molten lava. The man, a mass of trinkets, armor even more intricate than the warrior women possessed, and a metallic hand laughed like a man who had won million Thrones In a gamble. “Nobody expects the Imperial Inquisition, you sack of corrupted shit. Our chief weapons are surprise and fear, and most importantly, our fanatical devotion to evidence, provided I assume by this young man” The psychotic glare fixed upon Porta, and for the first time in this life, Porta was unsure of himself. “You have come from the unwashed masses and delivered this old fart right into my metallic appendage.” The man laughed loudly once more, albeit now with clearly more sincere tone.

Porta later learned during his long association to Inquisitor Lord Hans Pola that he laughed a lot. Usually that laugh meant that seventeen planetary nobles would be tortured to death or a planet who had executed it’s psykers instead of rendering them to Imperial authorities would be virus bombed to oblivion. Or it could mean that Hans Pola saw a person who resembled his instructor at Schola Progenium. You could never know.

After sobbing Deacon was declared Excommunicate Traitoris, and was burned to death by one of the armored nuns, Pola snapped his fingers and declared solemnly: “I’ve got it. My long search is over. You are smart kid, and you have balls. Rare combination in the lower strata of our society, filled with mediocrity. You will be my Acolyte and…” He trailed for a second and burst out laughing” Actually, fuck that. The Imperium of Man has no time for us to bond and trail off on merry adventures while humanity is tearing itself apart. You got yourself here, through Terra where most people are glad to get food for another day, not anyway capable of talking their way through countless authorities and assorted vagabonds. Yeah, you are ready as you can be. I’m going to make you a full monty, maybe some additional training, but full monty nonetheless. I’m a Lord, they can’t say shit, it’s not unprecedented.”  “What do you mean, sire?” Porta finally interjected. 

Inquisitor Lord Pola snapped his leg like on a parade, “Son, I’m taking you to HQ. You are going to serve the Emperor.”