The Dreadclops
“It walks like a man, until it doesn’t m’lord. All of a sudden it moves like the devil itself, so fast it were m’lord, if I hadn’t seen what it done to poor Harry I wouldn’t ave believed it. No m’lord, I don’t suppose it did see me watch, or if it did it didn’t seem to care none. If I may m’lord, I don’t claim to be an expert about such matters, I leave that to gentlemen like yerself m’lord, but I will venture that when you rip it’s helmet off, you’re not going to be looking at anything human.
- Survivor Testimony
Arrival
On the eve of the first night, I lay awake thinking of the tales that we’d been told on the way in. The locals were clearly spooked by whatever this thing was, initially nobody wanted to talk about it, well, not until we applied the correct forms of pressure. Said pressure in this case turned out to be a rather pitiful amount of Crown Gelt, and before we knew it we had more data than we could sift through. The Interrogator, Phelps, had put me in charge of sorting through everything that the small army of Savants would be sending over and organising it by priority of investigation. That was all for the next day.
As I lay on the cot I thought I heard a clanging sound coming from the street. It was late, way past curfew, so nobody other than the local Arbites should be out and about. I roused as the clanging continued, and headed to the small window that looked out onto the tenement row below. It was dark, and there was a thick layer of the smog that constantly choked the precinct present as always, I squinted hard but could make out no discernible shapes in the street below. The clanging seemed to reach a crescendo, then began to fade, as if whatever had been causing it had passed along on its way to wherever it was headed. I lingered at the window for a few more moments before deciding that my curiosity had been satisfied and heading back to the small cot to try and get some much needed sleep.
I arose a few hours later with the rising of the morning sun, I didn’t feel rested, but I never did settle properly on the first night in a new place. After washing and dressing I made my way down the stairs of the hab-block that the Inquisition had requisitioned for the duration of our investigations to the small shared kitchen area and found myself a cup of recaf. It seemed I wasn’t the first to rise, a few of my colleagues could be spotted wandering the halls, consuming recaf or meal-bars as was their wont. I was just finishing up the bitter recaf when one of Phelps’ adjutants, the little one with the permanent snarl whose name I never cared to learn, appeared and handed me a dataslate.
The sun was setting and my eyes strained from the glow of the cogitator screen. The data I’d been handed by the snarly adjutant was dense, and despite it being prepared by the small army of Savants, most of it was garbage, rumour and speculation from people who knew someone that knew someone that maybe saw something, or not. I flagged a number of reports as high priority for investigation the next day, mostly first hand encounters, or apparent survivors/witnesses, all of which warranted a more personal touch.
I had just laid down on the small cot when the clanging began again. Louder this time, it sounded like it was directly outside of the hab-block. Rising from the cot, I looked down into the street below. Nothing stirred. Curiosity now piqued, I dressed and made my way down the stairs of the hab-block. The curfew did not apply to Imperial Agents, and I always carried my identifiers on me in case I was stopped by the local Arbites, but it still felt eerie and foreboding as I stepped into the empty street which had been bustling with activity earlier in the day.
The clanging continued off to my left, and without thinking of the why, I followed the sound, determined, I think, to figure out what it was. I walked for a few minutes along the street, the rhythmic clanging sound always just ahead of me, out of reach. After another few minutes of walking I reached the end of the street, the paths that remained were the “rat-runs”, a series of alleys and pathways that skirted the main thoroughfares, that were maze-like, and potentially deadly, to the uninitiated. I stood still for a few moments as the sound of the clanging slowly faded into the rat-runs, the only sound that could be heard was my own breathing, steady and measured, and the drip, drip, drip of water. I looked around for the source of the sound and spotted small water jug on a wooden box just inside one of the alleyway entrances, presumably left over from the day’s trading or forgotten by its owner. It lay on its side, its contents gently spilling onto the box, forming a fresh puddle of water on the floor. I stood for a few moments longer, the clanging sound had faded to nothing, and the drip of the water falling from the jug had slowed. Then silence. A cold shiver ran down my spine, glancing once more at the overturned water jug I slowly turned and made my way back to the hab-block.
The Jug
I slept fitfully, my dreams haunted by something just out of sight, just out of reach. I arose, washed, and donned my habitual robe before heading down in search of recaf. Properly caffeinated, I spent a few moments conversing with a fellow Acolyte before heading to my cogitator station. At around midday I had completed my initial report of my findings to be sent to Interrogator Phelps, it contained a brief summary of the content of the reports that had been compiled and filtered by the Savants, along with a list of report reference numbers that I determined to warrant the Interrogator’s attention. My eyes stung from the pict-display on the cogitator station, so with the report completed, I copied it to a dataslate and went off in search of that snarly little adjutant
I found the detestable little man in short order, handed him the dataslate, and headed out into the bustling street before he attempted to engage me in any kind of conversation. The traders were out, and the street was alive with people and chatter. I walked for a while, taking in the sights and sounds of the precinct. A man arguing over prices with a trader, two women arguing over the last item on a traders stand, the local Arbites spot-checking a few shady looking local youths and the inevitable tirade of vitriol from said youths at this clear violation of their civil liberties, a notion which the Arbites clearly did not entertain, as became evident when the shock maul came out. I’d seen these sights on a dozen worlds during my time as part of the Interrogator’s retinue, but it always brought home the truth of the work we did. These are the people we are doing this for. Love them or hate them.
My internal musings and reflections were interrupted by a crashing sound as one of the youths had managed to break free of the Arbites restraints, but not from the reach of his Shock Maul, this was made apparent with a sudden crack and a flash of light, causing the now unconscious youth, carried by his momentum, to crash headlong into one of the traders tables. Chaos now ensued, as the goods and wares flew around the street and the Arbites struggled to keep any semblance of order. I figured it was time to leave, and made my way back towards the hab-block.
There was a dataslate waiting for me next to my cogitator station when I returned. Phelps’ little adjutant had also left a small note on a vellum script. I scanned the contents of the note, it was stamped with Phelps’ authority but was written in the adjutants hand, it requested my presence at an interrogation pertinent to the investigation, the dataslate it seemed, contained information which would provide additional context for the upcoming interrogation scheduled for sunrise the next day. The remainder of my evening was spent going through the dataslate’s contents, which bafflingly appeared to be a series of pict-captures of empty streets. Each capture was a few minutes long, showing a deserted street at night, nothing happened in any of them. I tried running the captures through various spectrum filters but whatever it was that I was supposed to be seeing eluded me.
The Interrogation
If the clanging happened that evening I was oblivious to it, the last few days of intermittent sleep had caught up with me, mainlining recaf can only get you so far. I arose and hurriedly washed and dressed before heading downstairs. No time for recaf today, as I emerged from the stairwell two intense looking Stormtroopers greeted me with all the warmth of the grave, and informed me that they had a conveyance waiting outside. Boarding the small craft, I was greeted by another Acolyte who nodded curtly to me as I took my seat across from them. One of our surly companions informed us that we were making one more pickup then we’d be headed to the Interrogation. We made our final pickup, this time it was not a person, but a pile of what appeared to be ingots made of a shiny black material I didn’t recognise. Nobody spoke much during the journey, my fellow Acolyte seemed determined to start a conversation about the black ingots, but I resisted and maintained my stoic silence.
The sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon by the time we landed at the Arbites headquarters that Phelps had been using as his base of operations. My feet had barely touched the ground before the craft took off with it’s mysterious cargo of black ingots in tow, my fellow Acolyte stood beside me, chastened by my resistance to engage in banal conversation with them. I looked about for a sign of where to go, the Stormtroopers had left with the craft, and nobody in the landing area seemed to notice the two Acolytes. I was about to start walking towards what I determined to be a sort of flight control bunker in search of someone who knew where I was supposed to be when I spotted Phelps’ adjutant lurching his way across the tarmac towards us.
We followed the little man for an indeterminable length of time through a winding maze of corridors and stairs until we arrived at a basement level with a number of cells either side of a large area filled with pict-displays. Phelps’ adjutant spoke to one of the operators of the pict-displays then directed me towards one of the cells. The door to the cell was solid adamantium, it looked like it would give a Space Marine pause for thought, there was a single small hatch at the bottom where food and other items could be pushed into the cell without letting the occupant out, other than that it was featureless. Not even a cell number.
The cells occupant was brusquely informed to stand in the corner of their cell by one of the burly Stormtroopers while they restrained them from behind. They complied with the Stormtroopers without protest, and I thought I saw the shape of an enormous man moving in the shadows of the dark cell. Phelps’ adjutant had vanished, and I looked around for someone of authority, I wasn’t prepared to carry out an interrogation and the thought of being left alone in this unmarked cell with whatever was inside it didn’t fill me with optimism. To my relief I spotted the familiar face of one of the Junior Interrogators, Maxilla, sauntering towards me with an air of confidence and authority. We exchanged greetings, and I was informed that I was to attend the interrogation but was to remain silent and observe. Instructions I was glad to receive.
The Interrogation: II
The Stormtroopers had restrained the occupant of the cell, they were shackled and manacled to a large metal beam, their movement restricted to being able to move their head and speak. We entered the cell, and I was immediately drawn to the sheer size of the occupant. If Maxilla had told me that we were interrogating an Ogryn in that cell, I’d have believed him, the man was enormous. His arms were like tree trunks that had been attached to a building, each one looked like it could snap me in half. He was quiet though, belying his size, he brooded in his shackles and stared down at the floor, not deigning to acknowledge the two new occupants of the cell.
After a few moments of silence, Maxilla spoke in a quiet but measured voice, one I’d heard him use before. His timbre and intonations deliberately fluctuated in seemingly random patterns to keep whoever he was talking to off guard.
”My name is Maxilla, I, represent His Emperors Most Holy Inquisition, wherein I am granted the rank of Interrogator”
A small lie on Maxilla’s part I noted, but an understandable one given our current situation.
“You are Tobias Peppana, is this correct?”
The large lump shackled to the beam didn’t move or speak.
“You are Tobias Peppana, your DNA swab confirms this. Tell me, Tobias Peppana, are you able to speak?”
A few moments passed, then a grunt of what I assumed to be assertion that it could in fact speak rumbled from somewhere within the man.
”Excellent! Then this will be a much more fruitful discussion. Oh I do so enjoy a fruitful discussion. Down to business then. My colleague and I wish to know the answers to some questions that we have. They relate to something I believe you refer to as ‘The Dreadclops’, and I’m reliably informed that you are the person to be speaking to about such matters.
There was a lingering silence, before a low, rumbling voice emanated from the brooding lump.
”Don’t wanna talk about it. Go ‘way now.”
When the man spoke he had the cadence and pronunciation of a small child, and my earlier estimation of sharing the cell with an Ogryn didn’t seem too far off, though it was still too dark in this damned cell to make out any defining features of the man.
”Come now, Tobias. You can tell us, you can tell me.”
”Don’t wanna talk Maxilla, or Maxilla friend. Go ‘way now”
”Trooper?” Maxilla said, addressing the somehow surlier of the two Stormtroopers.
“M’lord?” came the snipped response.
”Is Mr. Peppana fully restrained?”
”He is m’lord. As was instructed.”
Maxilla nodded and thanked the Stormtrooper, then turned to me and gave me a subtle look of mischief before he did what he did next.
“Trooper, remove Mr. Peppana’s restraints”
”M’lord?” queried the Stormtrooper, he was never going to refuse but the subtle question in his response said more than it needed to.
”It’s OK, Trooper. Mr. Peppana doesn’t want to hurt anyone, does he?”
Peppana let out another rumble that might have been a yes or a no, but Maxilla seemed to take it as a positive affirmation. My hand found the tiny snub pistol I habitually carried under my robes and gripped it, my own personal positive affirmation.
”Excellent! Then we can continue this in a more civilised fashion. Trooper, would you be a dear and send for someone to bring us three chairs” He mulled the instruction over in his mind for a moment before adding. “Actually Trooper, make that four chairs”
One of the Stormtroopers mumbled something into a vox unit before announcing in a typically snipped tone that the requested items were en route and would be there shortly. We waited quietly for a few more minutes, before an adjutant appeared at the cell door with four chairs. Maxilla took two for the two of us, and nodded to the Trooper to remove Peppana’s restraints.
As the last shackle clicked and fell to the floor Peppana emerged from the shadow of the corner into the relative light in the middle of the cell. He was not in fact, an Ogryn, but you’d be easily forgiven for mistaking him for one in the dark as I had done. Tobias Peppana was built like a Catachan, he was easily over seven foot tall and covered in so much muscle that he looked like he could grabble with one of the Emperors Angels. I suddenly felt very much unarmed, despite holding the snub pistol in my hand under my robes.
”Please take a seat Mr. Peppana.” Said Maxilla, gesturing to the two remaining chairs.”
Peppana looked at the chairs for a moment, before grabbing both, they creaked and strained as he lowered himself onto them. The sight of the giant man sat astride two chairs that struggled to hold him was a fairly comical sight, and I had to restrain myself from reacting as he struggled with manoeuvring his own massive frame into a stable position.
”OK, now that we’re all settled and more comfortable, maybe we can have a nice little chat? Does that sound OK, Tobias?”
Peppana nodded in affirmation, not that I think Maxilla wanted his permission. I was beginning to see the way he was trying to play this, putting small degrees of power into the cells occupant in order to gain his trust. Like slowly approaching a dangerous animal, letting it think that it’s in control.
”Excellent. Now then, about this Dreadclops business. I am very much intrigued to find out what it is that you know Mr. Peppana. Now I have your written testimony here, but I’d like to hear it from you, sometimes things can be taken out of context, so I’d like you to give me the context.”
Peppana appeared to visibly flinch at the mention of the word ‘Dreadclops’, and I noted his breathing get heavier.
”Stop saying name.”
”Which name, Mr. Peppana? Your name?”
”No, other name”
”And that other name would be ‘Dreadclops’?”
Another visible flinch, I shot Maxilla a quick look of warning.
”No say no more”
”And why should I not say the word ‘Dreadclops’, Mr. Peppana?”
”No say. No more” came a rumbling response from Peppana.
”But why Mr. Peppana?”
”Bad things happen when it comes.”
”When what comes?”
”It”
Peppana’s breathing was noticeably quicker now and a thin film of sweat was forming on his brow, despite the chillness of the cell. His next words were almost a whisper, as if he dared not say them.
”The thing, the thing with the red eye”
”The red eye? What is the thing with the red eye, Tobias? Tell me about it.”
”It comes with the banging. Then bad things happen.”
”Bad things? What bad things, Tobias?”
”Like Wallace.”
”Wallace? That would be Adentia Wallace?” Maxilla said as he slipped a file over to me to read through. I skim read the file. Adentia Wallace, 27 years old, maintenance worker, found dismembered in the rat-runs, her body was so mutilated that it took weeks to identify her. The report officially concluded that the attack had been carried out by either local wildlife, or some as yet unidentified xenos that was running wild on the planet. A note attached to the report by an adjutant stated that had been lumped in with the Inquisitions other ongoing investigations on the planet, most of which were of a far higher priority than the case of the missing maintenance worker. I would have concluded the same, in the face of possible Chaos cults, or Xenos incursions.
Peppana nodded in the affirmative.
”And you were acquainted with Ms. Wallace, how?”
”Looked after me… nice lady. I protect.”
”OK, so you were friends with Ms. Wallace?”
Peppana nodded enthusiastically. But then a sad look came across his face.
”She gone now”
”Yes, she is, but she is with The Emperor now.”
”Emprah take care of her?”
”Indeed He will, Tobias. The Emperor Protects.”
”Emprah Protects”
Maxilla let the silence hang for a few moments before he spoke again, and when he did the tone was no longer clipped, it was soft and calm, almost fatherly.
”Can you tell me about what happened to Ms. Wallace, Tobias?”
The Interrogation: III
There was no answer from Peppana, but after a few moments I made out a sound that I never thought I’d hear from someone so intimidating. The giant was whimpering quietly. I made out tears in his eyes and there was a noticeable quiver to his lips. We sat in silence for a little while, the only sound in the cell were the small noises coming from the giant.
”Tobias? Can you tell me about what happened to Ms. Wallace?” Maxilla asked quietly.
The giant seemed to stiffen, summoning a will from inside himself, and after a few deep breaths he seemed to pull himself together.
“OK”
“Excellent! Please, at your own pace, Tobias.”
The giant took another few moments, then proceeded to tell his tale.
”Wallace always nice. I look after. We go to market, it late.”
”Which market, Tobias?”
”One near pala-pal-pala..”
“Near the Palisades? By the Governors Manse?” Interjected Maxilla.
Peppana nodded enthusiastically.
”Near Gov’nor house. One with most best meat. We go, get meat, Wallace always get best meat, she smart lady. Nice lady. Sad she gone.”
He went quiet for a few moments, I heard another little whimper before he pulled himself back together.
”We stay for little bit. Wallace talk to friend. I wait, look after Wallace and meat. Then Wallace say time go home, so we go home.”
”What happened on the way home, Tobias?” Maxilla urged in a quiet tone.
You could hear a pin drop in the room as Peppana took another moment to compose himself before continuing.
”We take short cut. It late. Blue hat don’t like when you out late.”
By ‘blue hat’ I assume he means the local Arbites, who wear a dark blue helmet as part of their uniform.
”We go through runs to get home quick. Blue hat don’t go into runs so it safer. But runs not safe. So I look after.”
”What happened in the runs, Tobias? Who did you run into?”
The giant looked visibly shaken now, he’d gotten this far into his story, but now he was remembering, and whatever he’d seen had clearly left an impression. His skin was clammy and his breathing was strained, he seemed to be struggling for breath, and his eyes darted around the room. Maxilla shot me a warning look. I gripped my pistol tighter, at this point genuinely concerned that I was going to shatter the grip. I pride myself on being fairly unshakable and stoic, but I will admit that the sight of Peppana slowly losing his grip on what faculties remained to him had me more than worried for my ability to leave that cell in one piece.
We waited for Peppana to continue, whole minutes seemed to pass with nothing but the sobbing of a giant to break the silence. After he’d been quiet for a few minutes it seemed apparent that he was done for the day, so we began to make our preparations to leave. I was just folding the file that Maxilla had given me into the folds of my robes when I heard the faintest whisper come from the giant.
”It comes with the banging. The red eye sees you. It comes with the banging. The red eye sees you” repeated Peppana. Over and over in a whisper. He refused to say anything else, or even acknowledge the presence of anyone else in the room. Even when the Stormtroopers applied his restraints, he barely seemed to notice, he stared blankly into space and repeated his new mantra, over and over.
Maxilla gave me a look that I couldn’t quite place, and we made our exit. Maxilla congratulated me on my conduct during the interrogation, and said he would make sure that Interrogator Phelps was informed. He asked that my report be ready for the morning, and that I make sure to include any opinions that I might have of my own, properly noted as such of course, for his consideration.
Investigating the Hab
I had to wait around for a spare transport to take me back to my hab. When it finally arrived I was unpleasantly surprised to find the same gloriously subdued flight crew that had conveyed me here that morning. I was actually thankful for the quiet of the ride though, it gave me time to process the interrogation. I pulled up Tobias Peppana’s file on my dataslate. Aside from what appeared to be a abnormally low IQ, he had no outstanding mental issues, no history of schizophrenia, no history of heavy drug use, no real criminal record other than a few minor-infractions, and most of those seemed to be Peppana beating up some ganger-scum, a crime which the Arbites tend to turn a blind eye to. Other than the fact that he was over seven feet tall, and built like a small hab-block there was nothing particularly remarkable about him. Just another citizen.
I pulled up Adentia Wallace’s file. She was somewhat more interesting, a fairly extensive history of run-ins with the local authorities. The local Arbites had her flagged as a potential dissident at one point, but nothing ever seemed to come from investigations into her so she was never brought in to face any charges. Eventually I found what I was looking for in Wallace’s file, an address, not too far from my current dwellings. I penned a short message to Interrogator Phelps and received a quick response to the affirmative. Back at the hab, I quickly compiled my report on the days interrogation, then went in search of a Stormtrooper.
An Evening Walk
Me and my pet Stormtrooper, a Corporal Davies, headed out just after dark. The plan was to attempt to recreate Peppana and Wallace’s walk home, eventually ending at her address a few blocks away. We used the main thoroughfares to get to the Governors Manse and the surrounding Palisades, then began to weave our way back through the maze of rat-runs. It was easy to see why the local Arbites stayed out of these pathways, if I didn’t have the presence of Corporal Davies for support I’m not sure I could of made my way through without losing my mind. They weren’t just tight paths, they were at weird angles that were counter-intuitive to the direction you thought you were walking in, and you could easily find yourself in a dead-end where you could meet your end at the hands of the local gangers. Having an Inquisitorial Stormtrooper with you tended to alleviate such concerns though, and I was more than happy to be able to call on such services.
We walked for a while, twisting and turning our way through the maze of pathways. Once we came upon what I took to be some local gangers, who initially looked like they were about to speak, but when Corporal Davies appeared behind me they quickly vanished into the darkness. Wise move I think. The Corporal never strayed more than a few paces behind me, and in a few instances insisted that he be the first around a few of the particularly tight bends. His professionalism was a testament to his training, and I made a mental note to commend him to his commanding officer when we returned.
Eventually we found ourselves at the entrance to the hab-block that Adentia Wallace had resided in. It was a squalid place, the few windows on the outside were smashed, and the lower parts of the walls were covered in a variety of anti-Imperial graffiti and artwork. I was pretty sure I could make out some Xenos symbols in amongst some of the works, and made another mental note to pass that information onto Interrogator Phelps. Xenos incursions were always worth investigating, no matter how small, the Xenos cannot be permitted to live. Corporal Davies did a quick scan of the entrance, then waved me through ahead of him.
Inside the hab-block I was hit with the unmistakeable smell of unwashed humanity, the squalor clung to the walls like smoke, and there was the inevitable signs of vermin amongst the piles of trash and rubble. We made our way through the block to Wallace’s hab-unit. Nobody was about to question someone walking with an Inquisitorial Stormtrooper in tow, and we made our way to the top floor without incident despite the presence of a number of locals who looked less than pleased at our intrusion into their world.
Wallace’s hab-unit was small, it comprised of a cot, a small kitchen unit, and a chemical shower that looked like it had long since stopped working. I spent some time sifting through what few personal items she had owned, a small purse with an expired ID card and a couple of small denomination coins, a well-worn set of clothing, a tiny pocket knife, a dataslate containing a few trashy romance novels. Nothing jumped out as particularly pertinent, and nothing there explained why someone would choose to attack her in the brutal way that they had done. I spent a little longer in the hab-unit, Corporal Davies stood sentry at the doorway the whole time, before declaring this to have been a waste of time and apologising to my new companion, who merely noted that he’d enjoyed the walk.
We made our way down the stairs of the hab-block and back out into the street. It was late, way past curfew, not that it mattered, but the few people that had been around as we made our way here had long since dispersed to do whatever it was they did during the evenings. The silence was deafening.
I stood for a moment outside the hab-block taking in the scene, a strange sensation washed over me like I was being watched. Corporal Davies was just behind me, in his now-habitual position, but he was scanning around, presumably looking for threats to his charge. I looked up and down the main thoroughfare, but saw nothing.
My attention was drawn to the rat-runs at the sound of something falling. Corporal Davies’ Hellgun snapped up in the direction of the noise, Emperor save me he’s quick, but after a few moments of silence I heard him slowly begin to lower the carbine back to a ready position. He moved off to take a closer look before returning to me shaking his head and suggesting that we should head back.
I generally concurred, the days events had taken their toll on me, and I think I was starting to hallucinate. But the feeling of being watched wouldn’t pass. Something was out here with us, and I informed Corporal Davies as much. He simply nodded, and continued scanning, exuding professionalism. We determined a route back to the hab-block that would mostly stick to the thoroughfares, we would just have to dip through a quick rat-run between two of the main thoroughfares. Corporal Davies confirmed the route, and we set off at a fairly brisk pace.
The Trip Back to the Hab
We had made good time, and we were just coming up to the quick little dip through the rat-runs that we’d planned, we’d be in there for less than a minute. Corporal Davies took up point as we approached the entrance to the alleyway, his high intensity torch beam cutting easily through the gloom. I padded along behind, allowing him to sweep and clear as we went. We had made it about half-way through the maze of passageways when I heard a noise behind me. A clanging sound.
Corporal Davies heard it as well, his Hellgun coming to bear on the source of the sound while he motioned for me to get behind him. A few tense moments passed, nothing else stirred.
”We all good, Corporal?” I asked, in what was supposed to be an authoritative tone, but emerged as a harsh whisper
”Look to be, Sir. Shall we move out?”
”Indeed, let’s get out of this Emperor damned place.”
Our pace was noticeably quicker now, I’m not sure if Corporal Davies had just reached a point of apathy and just wanted to get this over with, or if he had genuinely been spooked. Either way, we quickly made our way through the remaining passageways, emerging onto the well-lit thoroughfare that would take us directly back to our hab-block.
As we turned towards our final destination I chanced a look back down the alleyway. My heart stopped. A shadow, a single red eye. I must have screamed, because all of a sudden I found myself being flung behind the bulk of Corporal Davies, Hellgun in the firing position.
”What was it, Sir?”
”Did you not see it, Corporal?”
”Sir?”
”Did you see anything down that alley?”
”No, Sir.”
”The red eye sees you” I mumbled.
”Sir?”
“Nothing, Corporal, let’s head back, I must be getting tired.” Corporal Davies nodded, and we carried on down the thoroughfare, the Corporal had not been the most loquacious of companions, but for the rest of the way back he barely even seemed to let out an audible breath.
Next Day
I slept fitfully, the dreams of the night before had returned, this time the thing was not quite out of sight, and I would occasionally glimpse the red eye. It watched me, it saw me, even when I could not see it. I dragged myself from the cot, washed and dressed, then headed down to find the biggest flask I could find and filled it with recaf. A few sips later and I was feeling like I would actually be able to make it through the day. I spotted Phelps’ adjutant, the man seemed to be everywhere at once, it was mildly unnerving, he was giving some clipped orders to a Savant that looked like they wanted to be literally anywhere else at that particular moment.
I finished my recaf, grabbed a meal-bar and headed for my cogitator station. The pict-captures that Interrogator Phelps had sent over were still loaded, and I cycled through them idly for a while. Nothing. The same nothing I’d seen earlier. I stopped, there was a reason these had been sent to me, I was supposed to be seeing something. I reloaded the first clip. Nothing. I watched it again. Nothing. I sat back in my chair, I looked again. I must have spent an hour replaying that first clip. There was nothing. Am I losing my mind? No, if I can question my own sanity I am sane. I need a control test.
I quickly found a fellow Acolyte attempting to find some peace and quiet in a small oubliette near the kitchen. I quickly shattered their hopes of such niceties, and informed them that The Emperor’s Holy Inquisition needed their aide. The yawn and eye roll I received in response was not exactly heartening, but I soldiered on, as a loyal servant of the Throne must when faced with adversity.
With my new accomplice in tow, we headed to my cogitator station, I gave personal authorisation for them to use my station, then proceeded to play them the pict-captures.
After what seemed like an interminable age, they finally finished watching the pict-captures. Their face was unreadable as they turned from the station to face me where I’d damn near worn a track in the floor from pacing.
”Why, and I must stress the why, have I just watched over three hours of absolutely nothing?”
I blinked. Momentarily stunned to silence.
”Do you need to see a tech priest? I asked you a question.”
”So you saw nothing in those picts?”
”Not unless whatever it was moved faster than the Great Khan himself.”
”And you’re sure?”
”Sure enough that I will not sit here and watch it all again to be certain. Was there something I was supposed to see? Is this some sort of test?”
My mind suddenly felt like a weight had been lifted, I wasn’t the only one blind to whatever was in this footage.
”No, no, not a test, I just needed to confirm that there is nothing to be seen in these captures.”
”And you needed to waste three hours of my time in order to get this confirmation?”
”Unfortunately, yes, thank you for your assistance in this matter.”
My fellow Acolyte walked away muttering something about Chain Glaives for some reason, but I ignored them and sat down back at the station. Pulling up the first pict-capture again, I resolved that I was missing something fundamental about the pict-capture itself, and proceeded to make meticulous notes of every single detail, every single dot of static, every light flare, I noted everything, right down to the exact timestamp at which a leaf blew past. It was as I loaded up the second pict-capture to perform the same ritual of obsessive note taking, I finally noticed the name of the street. In the first capture it had been mostly hidden by a traders empty stall, but in this second capture it was clear as day. I quickly pulled up the list of confirmed reports of sightings and attacks, and filtered them by street name. There it was. And the time of the report coincided with the timestamp in the footage. I pulled up another pict-capture. It took some processing of the image to render the street name visible, but eventually it revealed itself, and I was able to confirm another address and timestamp. I cursed myself for not checking for such a simple pattern earlier, this was the reason I had been sent this, the Interrogator wanted me to put this together.
I spent another hour or so confirming all of the locations in the pict-feeds then cross-referencing them against the list of known sightings/attacks. I quickly wrote a small program to discount anything that was just a sighting, I was purely looking at attacks. The pattern was there, and it was such a simple pattern, I’d been seeing it all along.
What I was missing, was nothing. The very absence of something to be seen, that was what I was missing. That was the common thread. Whenever this thing supposedly attacked someone there was never any footage of the thing, even though the pict-captures appeared to be working perfectly otherwise. No evidence of tampering, no strange anomalies, just nothing.
A quick trip to the kitchen area to refill the recaf flask and I was back to it, this time I pulled up footage of the victims from their places of work, and hab-block surveillance feeds. I wrote another program to put together timelines of activity for a few selected victims. Specifically ones that had been attacked within walking distance of Adentia Wallace’s hab-block. Each one ended suddenly around 24 hours before their reported time of attack. They just seemed to vanish from the footage. It was as if someone had just erased them.
I confirmed the pattern with a few more victims, and sent a quick report off to Interrogator Phelps with my findings. I declined to mention my encounter the previous evening, I felt like it might attract unwanted attention from the medicae. I made some further notes, then headed down for what I felt was a well earned meal.
Revelations
My feast it turned out, was a meal-bar and a recaf, but it was good, and I sat and savoured it for a while, watching the comings and goings of various retinue members and hangers-on. I flicked through the local news-feeds until my continued presence began to draw a few sideways looks. Needing somewhere else to waste time, I looked at the chronometer on the wall, it was still fairly early in the evening and curfew wasn’t active yet, so I spent a while stood outside leaning on the wall of the hab-block like I’d seen so many gangers and youths do, catching the last of the daylight and taking in the bustle of humanity around me.
I stood and watched as people milled past me, going about their days, living their lives. They didn’t notice me, I was just another face in the crowd, another nameless person leaning on a wall. I saw peoples pockets picked, I watched a gang of young boys and girls rush a traders stall and steal everything they could put their little hands on, I watched the Arbites try and fail to catch the kids as they dashed into a rat-run with their stolen wares. I smiled.
The sun had long set before the crowds began to thin down, the traders were the last to leave, trying to catch the last of the days shoppers on their way home from whatever work they did. I started back inside the hab-block, the days entertainment was clearly over, when my eyes were drawn to a pict-capture device atop a lamppost across the street from the hab-block. I walked over and took a note of the device id number, then headed back into the hab-block. I passed Corporal Davies on the way up the stairs, he gave me a curt nod as he strode past me, clearly on his way to do something far more important than babysit someone on an evening walk.
I sat back at my station with the idea firmly planted in my mind. I took a breath, and loaded up the feed from the pict-capture device across the street from the hab-block, it took a few moments but eventually the live feed appeared on my display. One of the small privileges of having access to Inquisitorial level clearance.
I input a timestamp into the cogitator and the display on the screen jumped back to my arrival four days previous. There I was, in my habitual robes, speaking with Phelps’ adjutant outside. I am animated as I appear to complain about the housing situation. In defence of myself, this place continues to be a substandard housing solution. I scan forwards, I see myself headed out for my first evening walk, and my subsequent return. I scan ahead further, I see the black Inquisitorial lighter that conveyed me to and from the interrogation of Tobias Peppana, and I see myself getting aboard. I see myself stumble rather ungracefully from the same transport a few hours later, then I see myself and the indomitable Corporal Davies head out for our evening walk.
I keep scanning ahead. I see Corporal Davies return. But I do not see myself. I am sure I was in front of Corporal Davies. I scan back through the pict-capture. Again I see Corporal Davies return alone. I scan back through the pict-capture. Corporal Davies is alone, except he isn’t. Someone else opens the door for him. Someone that doesn’t appear in the footage.
Panicking now. I pull up the feed for surveillance devices inside this hab-block. It takes me two attempts, my hands are shaking so much it is hard to input any commands. I manage to input the correct command and a series of pict-feeds appear on my display. Some are not accessible, these are rooms owned by other members of the retinue. I ignore these. I pull up the feed from the kitchen and the stairs. I see Corporal Davies march down the stairs and briefly nod at something, and I see an Acolyte trying to catch a few minutes of peace in an oubliette spontaneously stand up and head to my cogitator station, which has been automatically scrolling through the same pict-capture repeatedly for over an hour.
Final Entry
I write this in the small hours of the morning as I struggle to sleep, haunted by visions of red eyes, and beings that are just out of reach. It has been a few hours since I discovered that I no longer appear in any pict-capture footage that I have been able to access. I cannot sleep, I dearly want to, but I fear my own dreams now, so I resolve to stay awake and hope.
I have been erased. Whatever the creature is, I am no longer its hunter, it hunts me across the plains of existence, even in my dreams I can find no solace. I considered delivering myself to the Emperors mercy, my pistol lies beside me, but I fear I will make a mistake.
The red eye watches me each time I close my eyes, it seems to get closer each time. I will go out soon, I know it will be waiting for me. It comes with the banging. I can hear it getting closer.
To the person that finds this diary should I not return, may the Emperor Protect me.
-Fin-