‘And so the curtain moves ever so slightly’ thought San as he listened to the Commisars instructions. ‘There is far more to this than meets the eye. Who is exactly in charge of this operation?’
But there was little time to dwell on these thoughts. After all, if he remained patient, the answers were sure to reveal themselves shortly. They always did.
San watched Tincan’s takedown with interest, as a craftsman might observe the works of another. The soft thud was like music to his ears. As the cultist began to slide down the wall San noticed that he seemed to have something on his back. Edging a little closer to the corpse he saw that it was an archaic looking vox-caster. A guttural bark sounded from the vox, it seems the cultist had been talking to someone and the channel was still open.
“Oh Shit” San muttered under his breath.
The voice barked again, this time sounding more urgent, as if asking for a response from his now deceased colleague. San turned the cultist over and tried as quickly but silently as possible to take the vox caster apart before the infernal bleating attracted any attention. The vox fell silent, and San allowed himself a moment to calm his mind before pulling out his bolt pistol.
He signalled to the other two that the vox was now dead and he would take the cultist closest to the right wall as his position allowed him the benefit of a perfect shot. As he settled himself into the alcove with the dead cultist he took aim. But something was wrong. The cultist he was looking at down his sights suddenly shifted position and began looking straight at him. San was sure he had not spotted him as surely he would have already alerted the others. It appeared he was looking to see where the vox caster had gone. The cultist shouted out into the gloom, readying his weapon
“Take the shot now!” San said as loud as dared and pulled the trigger.
“Insane? You dare to claim that we are insane? I find this very amusing. You see, there is no such thing as sanity. Why? Because the nature of sanity depends on the context the term is used. A man living in squalor may call the rich man insane for wasting food, while the rich man in return may call the poor insane for living off his waste. You slaughter thousands and squander the resources of planets on foolish incursions to please a corpse and his corrupted followers. And you have the nerve to call me insane? Oh poor misguided individual, pray to whatever deity you serve and hope he is merciful, for those who find themselves trapped in the spiders web have little else they can do”
Lord Nerthro of the ‘Heralds of Absurdity’ to what remained of an Imperial scouting party