Secret War: Warhammer 40,000 by Ben Agar (romantic novels to read .TXT) 📕

well enough said, really.

We approached the colossal Hammer standing at the door, that despite his low browed, vat-grown, square-jawed appearance, a lot of his kind has his hooded, beady eyes gleaned a slight modicum of intelligence. He wore a suit not dissimilar to my own, and he held a data slate in his vast, meaty paw. I quickly noted the large, black tattoo on his neck, which showed he belonged to the "Greasers", a local gang who was one of the first our intelligence had reported being reeled into Brutis Bone's little alliance. The holstered laspistol barely was hidden under his blazer, the microbead in his ear and not just that but two more huge hammers standing inside the shadowy entrance to the club.

The Hammer smiled a surprisingly welcoming, toothy smile and gave us both friendly nods. "Sir, Mamzel, may I ask that you state your names, please."

"Indeed," I said, I may have put on a hammy performance earlier for Elandria's sake, but as Glaitis taught me, the true art in undercover acting is subtlety. To not get carried away and not let stereotypes rule your mindset, but that is, of course, unless the role calls for it, "I am Autius Davian-Meggs, and this lovely young woman is Riculia Harviad."

As I said this, the Hammer scrolled down his data slate. "...Sir Autius Davian-Meggs and mamzel Riculia Harviad, you are indeed on the list. Welcome to the Twilight bar, and may you enjoy your time here."

"Thank you, and we will," I smirked slightly as Elandria and I turned into the club. I was not surprised at the doorman's professionalism and politeness; it would be a given for a club this high up and well known, but the colleagues in the entranceway did not share the doorman's friendliness. I could feel them glare at us, suspicious and unyielding with bulky arms folded in an 'intimidating' fashion.

I pretended to ignore them, assuming they wouldn't treat their regular customers in such fashion or else their 'bar' would have closed down a long time ago. The evidence so far pointed to this being more and more a Brutis Bones operation.

This could also prove that our rival organisation knows our faces at least.

I glanced over my shoulder at the doorman and saw him talking intently, his index finger placed against the microbead in his ear.

We followed through the three-metre-wide corridor; the hologram planning had proven right; the hallway curled subtly to the northwest. The steel walls dulled down into a dark crimson, metallic sheen, and the walls trembled in time with the bass line. The way the building little advanced is that the main entrance's corridor split the club in half, starting from the southeast and ending in the northern corner. According to the information gathered: the west side of the building was the private area for the VIPs and the east general club and bar.

"So? Do you have any kind of plan yet?" Elandria hissed right in my ear, her soft voice causing me to start slightly from my thoughts.

"Some semblance..." I said, twisting my pinkie finger in my ear.

"Which means nothing?"

"No, it means what it means 'some semblance,' I'll think of something, I'm...Adaptable."

"Adaptable? Is that what you are calling it now?"

Before I could make a reply, my pocket vibrated, and swiftly I reached in and slid the small listening device in my ear.

"We're in," I said, though I knew that they would already know.

"Good work," Castella's voice came from the tiny speaker. "Where are you now?"

"Still in the corridor, not yet through the second security station, the one with the metal detectors," I said. "I find this place very interesting this is, very...Pretentious I can almost smell the pretentiousness in the air."

I heard Castella giggle on the other side. "What do you expect when it's called the Twilight Bar?"

"Well, I expected that the main corridor would be darker and be more of a reference to its namesake; perhaps the building itself hates what it's called so much, so somehow, through sheer force of will, rejected it."

Again Castella laughed. "Alright, alright, you know the drill; you have four of these devices; make sure you drop one in this corridor and another at the second station on your way in the other two; keep with you and Elandria so we can communicate with you inside."

"Yes, we know, we know, didn't you just say that I knew the drill yourself?"

"I did, but as you know, one can never be too careful, you know, just in case, good luck and may the god-Emperor's virtue be with you."

Then she cut the link.

I immediately halted, slipped off of Elandria, and pulled one of the listening devices out from my pocket. I took off the back adhesive and stuck it against the wall. The advanced, little piece of tech immediately camouflaged itself in the wall's colour, texture all but invisible to the naked eye.

"One down and just one to go," I said, standing back to full height and offering my arm back to Elandria. "May we move, my dear?"

Elandria begrudgingly took it and growled, "if you call me 'my dear' one more time-"

I sighed. "Yes, I know, I know I will be sorely lacking my head, I know."



We walked through the detectors without consequence; the listening devices were made from a rare and expensive Plasteek that was all but invisible to most scanners.

The two huge hammers posted at the checkpoint were just as affable as their colleague at the door. With the combination of my quick hands and the aide of Elandria, I successfully placed the listening device at the checkpoint. When we entered into the club itself, dozens upon dozens of dancers jumped and leapt to the music, a massive orgy of activity that seemed to move like white caps on the sea, rising and falling, rising and falling. It was almost entirely dark. The only light source lasers beaming down onto the countless cavorters, projecting patterns, and numerous different patterns changing from flowers to even the Imperial Aquila. It was quite an amazing sight to behold.

Quickly I changed my tact, glancing over the crowd, my brow hooded in concentration and noticed three more gangers straddled through the people, each eyeing both Elandria and me with distinct suspicion, and I barely held back a sigh. I knew they were low-hive gangers; I knew that they were muscle, but they wouldn't know subtlety if hit over the head with 'A Guide to Infiltration and Espionage.' Though it is an utterly terrible and pretentious book which the author (whose name I cannot recall) he blatantly did not do the research, it would help these idiots' skills in that field by leaps and bounds. That wasn't saying much, of course.

Then it hit me, it frigging hit me, and the realisation caused me to sigh and place my face into the palm of my hand if these gangers were this pathetic and it has taken this long for Taryst's 'elite' to find this place.

I didn't want to begin to think about it; it was depressing, just damned depressing.

But, actually, perhaps that was it. This 'bar's' security was so stupid and sloppy that it wouldn't stick out from the rest of its ilk, or was I just over analysing it?

I didn't know, and I didn't care anymore.

"What the hell is wrong with you now?" demanded Elandria; her raised voice heard barely over the music, but I could listen to her well, her words enhanced by the bud in her ear.

"I hate my job," I groaned, my voice muffled into my hand.

"What?"

I dropped my arm back to my side and said instead. "These guys are complete idiots."

Elandria smirked. "Please, do tell me something I don't know," she said, "I see three Hammers in the crowd, two armed with laspistols, one with a high calibre auto pistol all in torso holsters, right?"

"Hmmm, interesting," I said.

"What?"

I gestured with a lazy hand; a small indistinct movement aimed toward the Hammer with the autopistol.

"See? His pupils are dilated, and even in this terrible light, it is obvious his skin is a shade lighter than his norm, that Hammer is scared, very scared."

"Scared of what?" asked Elandria, then a big, evil grin spread across her symmetrical face. "Scared of us?"

I shrugged. "Hmm, perhaps, that seems logical. He may be a survivor, a survivor of one of our many skirmishes against Brutis Bones' organisation over the past months he may even be the one which they had learnt our identities from."

Elandria grimaced in utter disgust. "A survivor! We were thorough! We let none escape!"

"See! It is that exact attitude that would have allowed for his escape in the first place, but this we can turn toward our favour, though it also looks like we will have to reevaluate our plans."

"Why?"

"Because we will both die if we don't. If we make one wrong step, even try slightly to start a fight, he will shoot us; he's as twitchy as a frigging Obscura addict on withdrawal."

"Even shoot through a crowd of civilians?" she smirked.

I sniffed and glared at her sidelong, I knew she was ruthless, but I was hoping that there would be some line for Elandria.

"Perhaps, but that is one risk I am unable to take; at first, this was to be innocent fisticuffs against other club-goers, but if we are to do anything, we will have to take care of that Hammer first."

"Kill him?"

I grimaced. "If it comes to that but-"

Suddenly the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and a cold shiver slid down my spine. The air temperature dropped dramatically, and the once enthusiastic crowd halted its partying as everyone shook in instinctive terror.

I had felt this before, and I knew what it was.

Elandria turned to me, her eyes white with animalistic fear. "Psyker!"

My earpiece suddenly came to life, and Castella's uncharacteristically urgent voice erupted over the mic.

"Attelus! Attelus! Cough if you copy damn it!"

I quickly complied.

"Good! We have two new additions to the line outside and-and the people they are just-just parting, letting them through, I!-I can't make out their faces but-but-!"

The line began to fizzle and crackle, warping Castella's words into indecipherable syllables, then entirely descended to nothing but static.

I felt my heart beating a thousand miles a minute and the fear! Oh, the fear! The adrenaline pumping! But still, I shivered in the unnatural cold, and then I noticed Elandria, who looked at me in utter terror, whose lower lip shook, and her body wavered.

"Why-why, are you smiling?" she stammered.

"I'm smiling?" I asked, genuinely bemused. "Well, I guess I would now that everything is going according to plan, to my plan anyway."

I don't know if you had thought I had forgotten about Taryst's little psyker cadre or you had forgotten, but this, this I had actually seen coming, yes.



I knew I had to act; perhaps that time was short, so I moved. Dodging and weaved through the frozen club-goers within milliseconds, I reached the Hammer with the auto pistol; the ganger was never able to react to my advance as his glazed eyes stared dumbly to the ceiling, his mouth gaping open in severe shock.

I smashed my elbow straight into his solar plexus, which impacted in a sickening "crunch!" and the Hammer let out a feeble gasp for air, his torso bending in under the force. I gritted my teeth and followed on, punching him in the kidney, then the ribs, finished him by sliding to his flank and delivering a brutal, low side kick snapping his knee inward and causing the Hammer to let out a strangled howl of utter agony. I now had his Auto pistol in hand (which unsurprisingly already had the safety off), and I fired one round into the ceiling, yelling out at the top of my lungs, "down everybody down!"
Luckily the crowd were not so frozen in fear that they were unable to acquiesce to my request, and with frightened yelps, they did as told, all accept the two remaining bouncer Hammers who were only just now numbly