Terra, Trion Hive, Lower Hive, Monteriggioni.
The Instigator Maria Kurnikova, cloaked in black, stood in the shadows as she whispered persuasion to the burly man before her.
"Desiree, you were once a worker in the mid-hive. Though the labor was harsh, you still had a family of your own."
"Now, your family is gone. You've fled to the lower hive. Who do you think caused all of this?"
Though the tall woman's Gothic was clumsy, Desiree felt an uncanny warmth in her words; every sentence sounded as if she cared for him alone.
In her presence, he even sensed something strangely familiar, reminding him of his late wife.
"It was Louis! I trusted his words. Wanting to seem well-informed, I bragged after drinking, saying to the other drunks: 'The Shadows of Order are witches, they're dangerous.'"
"When I said it, I didn't even know what the Shadows of Order were, nor why I said it… Maybe it was just the way Louis spoke, it made you believe him without thinking."
Desiree's expression turned lost as he sank into memory.
"Later, before the Enforcers came for me, Louis found me first and led me down into the lower hive."
"I survived… but I lost everything."
Desiree clenched his fists, shouting, "Louis, it's all your fault!"
The Instigator pressed on, "If you had a weapon, would you avenge yourself against the one who made you lose everything?"
"Yes!" Desiree's eyes burned with rage, his fists trembling with bulging veins.
"I will help you take your revenge." Maria drew out a pistol and a knife.
Neither weapon was Vostroyan-made; anything traceable would lead the conspiracy back to them. These were procured from Terra's gangs, untraceable to their true masters.
"Take them. Use my weapons, and avenge yourself." She watched Desiree accept the arms, her voice final.
Desiree pocketed the gun, seething with hatred as he left the dome and stepped into the damp, shadowed pipes.
There he found a dozen others, all men who owed their survival to Louis and had long since become his followers.
He restrained his fury, knowing he'd only have one chance.
Hand tightening around the hidden pistol, he approached Louis.
"You know why you've all been driven down into this filthy hive?" Louis' deep, magnetic voice carried through the tunnels.
"Why?" asked one man in greasy blue worker's clothes.
"Because you spoke the truth. And some do not want that truth spoken."
"The Shadows of Order and the Thousand Sons, they are witches. They bring nothing but ruin."
A frail worker slammed his fist against the pipes.
"Louis is right! We only told the truth."
Louis' words carried a strange compulsion, seeping into each of them. They wanted to believe him, believing spared them the regret of what they'd lost.
Desiree shouted along, but in his heart, the hatred was all for Louis.
He stepped closer, drew the pistol, and fired.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
At such close range, even with his poor aim, Desiree could not miss.
"Desiree, what are you doing?!"
"Desiree, are you mad?!"
The others reeled back in shock.
Desiree ignored them. Only Maria's word, avenge, rang in his ears.
All the grief of his dead family and his fall into the hive poured out with every pull of the trigger.
Bullets tore into Louis' body, spraying blood, yet he did not fall.
Instead, an inhuman roar burst from within him. Workers froze in fear as the sound reverberated through the pipes, bestial and terrifying.
The monstrous cry echoed outward, so far that rats a kilometer away scattered in panic.
A massive, muscled arm burst from Louis' torso, seizing Desiree in one hand.
"Speak! Who did you meet? Who set you to this?"
Desiree and the workers gaped in horror. How could such a limb emerge from a man's body?
"Monster!"
They screamed and fled in terror.
Louis himself stared in shock, as if waking from a dream.
"I… what's happening to me?"
Another giant arm ripped free from his chest, tearing flesh into pulp.
It grasped his ribs and hurled them like spears. Each bone whistled through the air, impaling the skulls of fleeing workers.
"Get… out of my body!" Louis screamed in agony.
"Silence!" the monstrous arm roared, throttling Louis' throat. His body fell apart like a broken doll, limbs dropping piece by piece.
"Speak!"
Desiree had never seen such horror. His legs were wet with terror. The cold, merciless voice was like a wind from the underworld.
He stammered, trembling, "A woman… It was a woman… Spare me!"
"What kind of woman?" the inhuman voice demanded.
"A tall… woman… in a black hooded robe… I couldn't see her face…"
"Useless!" the monster bellowed.
Desiree's final thought was the snap of his neck breaking.
"A woman? Clever…"
"Nareth… Magnus… which one of you…?"
Louis' ruined body shattered, collapsing to the ground in bloody chunks.
"I will find out… who it was."
At the same time, Maria returned to her temporary base, an abandoned factory.
Dementieva quickly asked, "Well?"
"It should be dealt with," Maria replied calmly.
"We just have to wait; if they appear, we'll know."
Tsvetlana added, "Those workers… they don't have the courage or the brains for something like this. There must be someone behind it."
"Exactly," Maria agreed. "The struggle with them will be long."
Softly, she vowed, "We must purge our Master's enemies."
The three Instigators spoke in the darkness, while aboard the Throne of Shadow's Sovereignty, in the Primarch's chamber…
Tech-Priest Wojciech excitedly exclaimed to Nareth:
"My lord, I've found it!"
"I've recovered a Sacred Standard Template!"
"Excellent," Nareth inclined his head, knowingly asking, "What is it?"
Wojciech's mechadendrites clattered across his chest. A square chip popped free, glowing red and green.
He caught it and cried with excitement, "My lord, I extracted ancient data from the machines and stored it here. After studying, it proved to be a combat tank STC."
"It is simple to manufacture, easy to maintain."
Nareth nodded.
"Since you discovered it, it shall bear your name. Call it the Blyek Battle Tank."
Overcome, Wojciech bowed deeply.
"Thank you, my lord!"
The thought of his name forever tied to a sacred STC filled him with boundless pride. Soon, forge worlds across the Imperium would honor the name Blyek as the man who reclaimed the Omnissiah's relic.
"I will grant production rights to forge worlds. You will oversee their selection."
Unlike the Orks Attack Moons, which only some forges dared study and required Rosicky's networks to peddle, every forge world would clamor for the Blyek Tank.
Thus, Wojciech, himself a Mechanicum insider, was far more suitable than Rosicky, the outsider. His prestige would soar, exactly as Nareth intended.
"Thank you for your trust, my lord. I will not fail you," Wojciech vowed.
Then Nareth turned to Arsena and asked:
"What value lies in Nova Borilia?"
"My lord, its resources are mediocre. Only the decorative golden sunstone is unique. As you commanded, all future harvests will be sent to the Throne of Shadow's Sovereignty."
"The populace was enslaved by the Nomans for millennia. Their technology and culture regressed. Their bodies are weak, their quality is poor."
The Primarch's aide gave his report on Nareth's prior command:
"As ordered, one-third of the Nomans' food supply has been distributed to the locals. For the first time in thousands of years, they are full."
"Notably, they now call you 'Liberator,' their loyalty surpassing that of any other world."
Nareth nodded.
"Select a squad from the 8th Legion. Leave them to restore order in Nova Borilia."
"Have the fleet set course for Cypra Mundi."
.....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
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