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[Halvador, Torek, Viktor, Micheal, Raphael, Daedalus, Jerico, and Darren; you all have on you weapons that can be easily concealed. So no bigger toys, like Crypt's hammer for example. Evander, Antony, Gaerth and William; unlike the others you have choice of what weapons you have on you. Every member of the team has an easily concealed microbead about them so that they can keep in touch with each other. It doesn't work from one town to another, but within a town yes.]

Halvador
and Torek; You push past the double plascrete doors leading into the facility, half the spread lights are burned out or flickering, somehow making the medicea facility look uglier than initial impressions. However, its better to be indoors than outside in the constant rain of Lneff Octavus; early terraforming had gone wrong, and while the world was habitable, it suffered from constant rain-storms. Pushing beyond the state of the facility, you walk to the desk and speak with the clerk, who after some time directs you to the morgue where the bodies of the recently deceased lay.

The room itself is in the back of the facility, past dingy examination rooms and several private offices, in the basement level. Entering the morgue, the first thing that hits you is the biting cold, then the piercing voice of the chief doctor of the area as he both greets you and demands why you are here.

[Lets start out fairly simple; your in Jackcrest, a pleasure town of sorts. Its more upscale than the two other towns you have been to thus far. Viktor and Micheal dropped you off outside the facility so that you could examine the body of the latest victim of a rash of murders, this one a close aid to the planetary governor. The others are checking out the aid's villa to save time. Halvador this place absolutely disgusts you, being used to far cleaner and more sterilized facilities yourself. Since Torek is technically not with us, its up to you to get things done; speak with the clerk to get directions to the morgue and speak with the head doctor when you get there. He wants to know who you are and why your here; though whether you are straight up with him, or wish to conceal the fact that your an inquisitorial operative, thats an interesting question.]

Viktor and Micheal; Jumping out of the groundcar you had been in, the rain makes short work of drenching you, Viktor having a bit of fun and jumping down into a thing of mud. Before you is the last of the habs of Jackcrest, far more spacious and luxurious than many people elsewhere on the world get to see. Heading into the building, you inform the servitor-clerk that you are investigating the death of Selina Bandig, aid to the governor and the most recent in a string of murders. You are pointed to the elevator that will take you up to the ninth floor, the location in question.

As you enter the villa, staff of Bandig greet you and you are quick to go to the scene; though for whatever reason the man you speak to seems reluctant to take you, if only for a moment.

[Well that was odd. As with Halvador and Torek, your in Jackcrest, a pleasure town of sorts. Its more upscale than the two other towns you have been to thus far. You dropped Halvador and Torek off at the towns medicae facility, and after an hour of driving through the mud slicked streets you made it to the luxury habs. Compared to this place, the last town was an utter dump. When you arrive in the villa, the member of the aids staff that greets you seems more interested in something else, and when asked to see the crime scene itself he tries to dissuade you from going. Though a pair of big men aren't so easily dissuaded now are they?]

Raphael, Jerico, Daedalus, and Darren; You are in the town of Landwalk Ridge, specifically the towns most seedy bar, Last Chance. The place is dimly lit, the patrons keeping mostly to themselves either at the bar or in alcoves along the walls for a measure of privacy. Raphael and Daedalus themselves are in one of these booths, one of the two observing a slim man at the bar flanked by two much larger men, like minders but with gang tats on every piece of exposed flesh. At one far end of the bar, Darren sits and makes small talk with some no-nothing fool, also keeping an eye on the small man flanked by the pair of larger gangers. Jerico is on the opposite end, chatting it up with a smile girl who despite her good efforts, is gonna be going home mad when all her effort proves to be wasted.

[Landwalk Ridge is located high up in one of the mountain ranges of Lneff Octavus. Its known for having a strong connection to one of the gangs of the area, some partially militant pro-xeno group that seems to like causing a fuss but little else. Could be nothing, could be something, but either way Landwalk is the location of the fourth murder in the series on this world, with the jawbone of the victim being taken as a trophy from what it seems. Just so happens mr. small with two big guards was overheard talking about having in his possession such a trophy or knowing who does, so he warrants a looking into. Real question is what do you do? Confront the man, wait to see what he does?

Jerico, while the others watch the man you've been watching the entrance, and its here that you notice four more gangers sauntering in. They walk over to small man and his guards and start speaking to him, with the bartender being motioned to come over. The look on his face isn't good as you see his eyes dart over to the direction of Daedalus and Raphael. Oh yeah that can't be very good; but what do you do?]

Evander, Antony, Gaerth, and William; This day is not getting any nicer, even for the standards on this planet. Then again, from what you've heard the town of Centerburgh has never been known for having the best of luck, located at the bottom of several mountain ranges its kind of like a pit. At any rate, driving has not been fun, not in this weather and definitely not in this cargo-hauler. Antony brings the hauler to a stop as it turns the last corner before the hab stacks where Luciun Opinek, victim number seven in a rash of murders, resided until his death. Reports say a third of his left femur was taken, which fits in with the path of a murderer collecting bones as trophies. Exiting the hauler, the rain does little to liven up your mood as you hurry into the stacks where Opinek lived.

The place is a mess, and lit by half dead yellow glo-globes that give off a gloomy vibe to this place. People scatter before you, not wanting to get involved in the business of anyone else in this place, how charming. Coming up to the fifth floor, you notice the kicked open door leading to what must be Opinek's hab. Somehow, it looks even more of a mess than the rest of the hab, if thats at all possible. A quick look around and you notice that this place goes on into the habs adjacent, with no one else present. What did this guy own the entire floor or something?

[Evander and Antony you go to the left, lots of tossed about clothes and other stuff, the smell is less than forthcoming sadly. Despite that, your hear looking for the man's notes; before his death Opinek was in charge of investigating these murders and how they might be connected with alien insurgents trying to destabilize authority in the area. At least thats what these notes were supposed to detail, if you can find them. Gaerth and William you take left; this place is more like a study, a place where Opinek might have done his work, its cleaner but looks like much had been taken since before you got here. Looters maybe? Though how desperate and dumb might you be to steal the cogitator of an arbites detective?]
 

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Evander Sarkadian-Opinek's Hab

Rain. How appropriate. It did seem to have a narrative flair to it, which combined with the nature of the murder they were investigating, made Evander cautious. A third of of a femur, as a trophy. It was somewhat unusual, it seemed, as skulls, jawbones, or other such bones would seem to make better trophies. A mystery they'd have to solve.

It was little better outside the hauler, though they didn't have to walk far at this point. The eery lighting in the stacks was another detail he noted, along with the way people retreated from them. Probably a wise choice, considering the nature of these places. When they got to this Opinek's residence, he saw the door was kicked in. Still that way from the murder?

[[Others should feel free to talk during any of this, I'll just edit my post.]]
 

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Jerico Tobias - Landwalk Ridge

The smile-girl wasn't his usual sort, too much about her was false; dyed hair, fake nails, cosmetics that seemed more at home applied to the bar than this woman, but for all that she was quick-witted and humourous company for a rogue like him, a circumstance Jerico was unable to take advantage of with the current situation.

Clad in his usual attire of much repaired brown pants, the hems covering most of his scuffed flight boots with a faded deep blue shirt tucked into the waist band and an over-large padded grey jacket festooned with bulging pockets thrown over the ensemble, his unruly hair and stubble further enabled Tobias to blend in with the clientele of The Last Chance effortlessly.

Leaning forwards to whisper some vague witticism in her ear, Jerico took the opportunity that her, too predictable, practised laughter gave him to surreptitiously glance at the men who had entered moments before, a thrill of alarm sending his adrenaline sky-rocketing as he noticed that the men were focusing their attention on Raphael and Daedalus. With the barest of hesitations he turned back to his companion, raising his tumbler of cheap amasec for a sip allowed a quick double-tap of the microbead present in the pilot's left ear.
To ensure the other Agents wouldn't misunderstand his signal he made a show of spilling his glass over the woman's lap, with a startled squawk of indignation the girl leapt off her stool slapping him hard across the face; Jerico winced and attempted to apologise as the smile-girl flounced out the bar.

With the bar's patrons focused on the fuming woman Jerico took a moment to catch Darren's eye, giving a slight nod towards the small man and his minders before crossing his arms, turning back towards the bar- pausing for the barest moment facing their two companion's booth- using the period of time when his movements were shielded from the target to slip his Stub-Revolver from it's shoulder-rig into his jacket's sleeve.

Returning to his stool at the bar with head lowered as if in embarrassment Jerico hoped that the Bounty Hunter had understood what he meant, and that the other two were at least prepared for future unpleasantries...
 

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Halvador Sytari - Jackcrest Morgue

As the entrance hissed shut behind him, Halvador's first thought was that he was glad to be out of the rain. It never seemed to stop on this planet, a relentless deluge that beat down upon him. He removed his wet-slicker and hat, looking at his reflection in the mirror to ensure his wig looked presentable.

Satisfied that his hairpiece looked presentable enough, he keyed the entrance to the Morgue. The door opened, releasing a rush of frigid air and rancid smells. Halvador crinkled his nose in disgust.

'This facility is not properly pressurised,' he said disdainfully. If any of the bodies here had active bacteria, viruses, or any other of the plethora of pathogens found on any given planet, they would easily escape the facility to contaminate the city itself. 'Pathetic.'

He unslung his backpack, pulling out a clipboard and a white pair of surgical gloves, putting them on as Torek continued through the portal. The room beyond was dim and dingy. Soot or dust covered the windows. Flickering lumiglobes cast shadows about the room, airborne particulates wafted about... Throne, this place is disgusting.

An unattractive woman sitting behind the clerk's desk looked up at the two intruders. She tucked a grimey braid behind her ear and asked, 'What?'

Unsure of how Torek would respond to the situation, Halvador knew that he had to take the lead, at least initially, until he knew more of his new companion. He strode at a leisurely pace to the desk, setting the clipboard down and smiling at the clerk.

Forcing the contempt he felt from his voice, he peered at her name badge. 'Good morning, my name is Doctor Halliof. I have been hired by the planetary governor to exam the body of a recently deceased individual of interest.' He reached into his overcoat and pulled out his falsified identicard, flashing it before her.

'Please inform your supervisor that we need to inspect the morgue, its facilities, and the bodies therein to properly identify and categorize the cause of death.' He looked right and left, trying to appear both authoritative and impatient. 'Where is your head mortician?'

The girl looked confused, but pointed to a door branching off the right side of the room. 'He's in his office in the morgue,' she said.

Halvador smiled again, grabbed his clipboard, and nodded to Torek to proceed.
 

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Darren Sicamore - Landwalk Ridge

Darren sat inside the Last Chance, a seedy bar, dark dank and unfriendly. He was used to these types of bars, having to meet his various contacts in some of them, having to take down his bounties in others. Once a fight was started everyone would get involved soon enough. He didn't mind being sat in the bar, better than being outside in the rain at any rate.

He sat by the bar, a pack of Iho sticks on the bar next to him, and a bottle of amasec next to him. He winced, as he felt a warm shot of amasec flowing down his throat. Soon a drunken old fool stumbled over next to him. He sat down and tried making small talk with the bounty hunter.

Darren kept his answers short and curt, trying to make the other man talk about his history and what he did then what Darren did. It was meaningless conversation but it would keep Darren's cover for a while. Or so he hoped. As the man explained to Darren what a merchant of his standing was doing in a place like this Darren's eyes focused on the other side of the bar.

Jerico Tobias the pilot for the Inquisitor had knocked his drink over onto the girl that he was chatting to, causing her to slap him and leave with an offended look on her face. He kept his eyes on Jerico, barely resisting looking at the girl as she walked away. He quickly nodded to the target, the man with the bone, and the fact that two more men had walked in and were talking to them looking straight at Raphael and Daedalus.

Darren nodded his head back, hand sliding underneath his trench coat. He thumbed the shock mace that sat on his belt, ready if they tried anything. With his other he drew out an Iho stick and put it to his lips, before lighting it, completely oblivious to the man next to him, who was loudly snoring on the bar.
 

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Raphael Kontos took another deep breath, drawing in more sickly smoke. The Iho-Stick which was perched between his pristine teeth had cast a eye-watering haze over the alcove, nearly obscuring Raphael completely. The Tech-Priest, Daedalus, talked little and thus very little conversation was made between the pair. Yet Raphael did not care for some technological simian. He knew of their greedy ways, of how they would double cross you if they realised you was harbouring wanted technology. Raphael looked towards the side at the large figure of Daedalus, scanning him from head to toe, and sighed.

The overwhelming stench of lubricants and oils made Raphael wretch inwardly. His stomach tightened as though struck and his throat stung suddenly with bile. Yet he was fixated by the crimson attired figure. He knew that the Tech-Priest was drawing fidgety attention from others in the bar, those who were clearly nervous among this bio-mechanical man. Being a Fringe-World, Lneff Octavus probably received very little visitors in the form of the Priesthood. However he did know of Explorator Fleets that had moved through the Fringe Systems, searching for lost Forges and STC’s.

There was some form of history between Raphael and the Mechanicus. He could not quite remember the circumstances other than it involved a maddened Secutor and some very valuable information based around a piece of old tech upon a Dead World within the Rashad Nebulae. Of course Raphael had declined to give the information and the consequences hadn’t been particularly pretty for either side, but the Rogue Trader cared not. He had a nigh-endless wealth to splurge upon, one where he could replace casualties with a mere flick of his wrist.

‘Isn’t this a pleasant place?’ He rhetorically, and sarcastically asked, reaching for the cheaply fabricated chalice which sat upon the finely polished-surface of the table.

An old man hobbled by, a wet tunic pulled over him and dripping the forever-rain of Lneff Octavus across the ground. He grunted an acknowledgment and Raphael spared a gently inclined nod. However his attentions were not on the general scum within, but rather a figure sat at the bar upon a red velvet stool. Towards either side of him were a pair of brutes, hired-muscle no doubt. One bore a snaking tattoo around his neck and Raphael made the assumption that they were Gang Tats, not dissimilar to what many aboard The Regent bore.

They were probably packing solid slug throwers beneath the folds of their clothes, at least Raphael couldn’t see any holstered weapons in visible sight through the Iho-Stick haze. Raphael took the chalice in his hand and looked into the murky alcohol which it housed so perfectly, and raised it to his mouth. Before the cold liquid touched his lips however he tilted it off towards the side, sending the liquid cascading onto the floor. He would not drink when there was a task ahead of him.

He tossed the chalice onto the crescent-twisted chair next to him, the soft foam which laid beneath the red velvet obscuring any noise and continued to look at the Gang Banger with narrowed eyes, his neck arched forwards. He pondered, leaning atop his cane, with crimson jewel skull atop it biting into his glove with artificial teeth and leaving a menacing imprint. With his other hand he reached into one of the pouches fastened at his hip and drew several Thrones, each of which bore the Aquila gloriously.

‘Go and offer him a drink, Mechanicus.’ Raphael growled forcefully, tossing them across to the tall figure of Daedalus.

If the Ganger wouldn’t reach out to them, Raphael would do so himself. He saw the signal from the others and felt his hand tighten around the hidden Shuriken Pistol in the folds of his azure cloak and lifted his cane-bearing hand for Daedalus to disregard what he had said, slowly thumbing his weapon into life.

'I hope you can fight Mechanicus, looks like we have a predicament on our hands..'
 

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Daedalus Yekunian - Landwalk Ridge

The smoke from the pirate's narcotic stick was repulsive. It reminded Daedalus of the smog that was spewed from the stacks in factories on the blessed Forge Worlds, except this smoke was the product of the pirate's own weakness of the flesh, not the production of the sacred machine. The Tech-Priest looked around the bar as surreptitiously as he could, it was disgustingly wasteful, patrons consuming large amounts of narcotics and beverages, while many patrons purchased the services of females that wore enough ornamentation and cosmetic applications to pass for a gilded statue. Typical flesh beings, all mired in narcotics, intoxicating beverages and pointless intercourse. Daedalus could not understand the point behind these things, narcotics ruined the mind, the most precious gift of all from the Machine-God and the act of intercourse was meant for creating more flesh children, and yet they did it and avoided that. It was baffling, but Daedalus had never been interested in the weak beings of meat, the strong was metal and machine, and that future would be ushered in by Daedalus and his fellow Magos.

‘Isn’t this a pleasant place?’ drew Daedalus out of his thought patterns. The pirate was making another attempt at conversation, unintelligent creation of flesh, Daedalus had hoped that he would desist, they had nothing to discuss and Daedalus was aware that the pirate hated him, and his kind. Ungrateful whelp, without the Mechanicus his precious weapons and ship would not exist and he would be trapped on whatever backwater planet spawned him. And his sarcasm was clear, and unnecessary, this place was a waste of the effort made to make the materials that had created it.

While the pirate observed the males sitting at the primary table of the establishment, which was a flattering term at best, Daedalus contemplated the mission at hand. A pro-xeno gang was at large within the area and Daedalus and the pirate, the bounty hunter and the pilot had been tasked to investigate. Daedalus could not have possibly cared less, xenos were corrupting that was not disputable but this wasn't xenos technology being dealt with, aside from calculating answers to possible theories of technological problems there was nothing here that another member of the group couldn't do with more interest. But there was little point in arguing with an Inquisitor, it was like attempting to create a map to an STC, a waste of time and effort.

The clink of a coin on the table drew Daedalus's attention, the pirate was in front of him. ‘Go and offer him a drink, Mechanicus,’ was all the pirate said. ‘I am not a servitor, or what passes for one in this trash heap. Do it yourself.. pirate,’ Daedalus responded, his vox-transponder making his voice sound forceful in kind, privately enjoying the pirate's sneer, then noticed his hand moving from his cane. Daedalus understood instantly, as all good Tech-Priests should. Two of his mechanical fingers, which extended halfway down his arm, broke away while the others remained in place so that none of the flesh cattle would be spooked, while the two moving fingers hooked into a heavy calibre slug pistol. Daedalus had designed it decades ago, and it was still as potent as the day he had finished it, capable of blowing a target in half with a single shot. Although since he had worked for the Inquisition he now often needed to disable targets rather then blow them apart so he had added a lower function setting that shot regular auto rounds, very damaging but not immediately fatal. Lighting up his second eye, his three glowing green ocular implants forming a triangle, only the first active currently followed by the second showed that Daedalus was ready for a battle if one broke out.

‘I have fought for the Machine-God before your brood-parents had even been spawned pirate. Do not question my skills, in any regard.’
 

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Michael Crypt - Hab Unit of Sedlina

Michael landed in the water with a loud splash as the water shot up to soak him thoroughly, and he looked at his robes quickly making sure his small autopistol was still concealed. Crypt looked over to see the Catachan had landed in a puddle of mud that had similarly doused him with its contents; Crypt smiled slightly and reached a hand out to help the man up.

“Oh the woes of having to jump out of a moving object.” Crypt said. He looked around the Hab District they were in, this place was far more luxurious than the place that only an hour ago Crypt and Viktor dropped off Halvador and Torek, and it surprised him that the living conditions could improve so quickly, but he hid that thought as he started to head towards the Hab unit that had belonged to the late aid Selina Bandig.

As the doors opened and the big preacher walked through the doors he noticed and sweet smell in the warm drying air of the unit. Crypt walked up to the reception desk where a servitor was working, “Hello we are here to see Bandig’s staff.” As he was finishing the servitor was already pointing towards the elevator. “9th floor” It said as it continued its work, and without a thanks Crypt headed over to the elevator, and as he reached it the doors opened and he stepped in.
 

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Gearth Madellus - Opinek's Hab

With a sluggish burst, the cargo-hauler came to an abrupt halt as Gearth awoke from his sleep. The patter of rain on the tarp can be heard soothingly to Gearth as he finishes a prayer to he Emperor and jumps out of the cargo-hauler.

Raising his face to the sky, Gearth lets the icy rain hit his shaved face and head to fully awaken him. "A fitting day to do the Emperor's work." Gearth said as he withdrew his shotgun from the bed of the hauler and walked with Evander and the others inside.

Inside, Gearth noticed the quick glances from the residents inside at his shotgun and how they quickly departed. "It seems the agents of the Golden Throne are welcomed everywhere these days." Gearth said sarcastically, following the others up the stairs to the victim's room.

As they neared the door, Gearth watched Evander stop and soon enough Gearth saw the busted door to the victim's room. Without thinking, Gearth withdrew his shotgun and slid in several shells before waiting to follow the others inside
 

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Viktor jumped out of the jeep and landed in a somewhat deep puddle of mud. For a moment, Viktor was back of Catachan, running through the water soaked jungle. Speaking of water, this 'rain' was barley a drizzle. Viktor kept having trouble figuring out why people thought that this was a down pour. Crypt reached down and helped Viktor up, Viktor smiled in thanks.
“Oh the woes of having to jump out of a moving object.”
Viktor laughed, "I've jumped out of bigger faster moving vehicles...like that Valkyrie..." Viktor shook his head. Now wasn't the time to be reminiscing.

Viktor saw Crypt checking his auto pistol. Good idea, Viktor thought, as he ensured that his Fang was easily accessible. Viktor didn't bother to check his pistol. He wasn't good enough with it anyway.

Viktor looked around the area they were in now. It was the nicer of the cities, but it wasn't the most luxurious of places. Viktor took note that the streets were deserted. This bothered Viktor some, but on closer look, most of the buildings had on few if any lights. Almost like no one was home...

Once inside, Viktor let Crypt do the talking. Crypt would be better at doing the talky parts anyway. Being a preacher and all. Viktor normally didn't make jokes at peoples appearance, but Viktor couldn't help himself when he saw Crypt getting into the elevator.
"I think I'll wait for the next ride up Crypt." Crypt look somewhat confused so Viktor continued, "Well, I mean that thing might not be able to lift you, let alone both of us."

Crypt shook his head slowly and Viktor stepped into the compartment. It wasn't cramped or anything, but Viktor laughed until the doors re-opened. Viktor then followed Crypt out.
 

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Michael Crypt - Selina's Villa

“I think I’ll wait for the next ride up, Crypt.” Viktor said, and Crypt slightly tilted his head in confusion. “Well, I mean that thing might not be able to lift you, let alone both of us.” Crypt shook his head in amusement and stepped over so that the Catachan could step into the ever-shrinking compartment, “Just wait until we get back to the ship.” He said with a grin, he enjoyed working with the ex-jungle fighter, since the Catachan is the only other person that was around the same weight as him, and just like him it was almost if not all in muscle. As the doors opened the preacher stepped out. “Here let me get out of the way of your girth.” He said with a final joke before they were greeted by a man. “Hello, you must be Crypt and Kornel. I am Tyr Gaius, Selina’s adjutant.” Tyr said with a smile. “Hello, it’s nice to meet someone that is part of the Emperor’s flock.” Crypt started with a smile. “We travelled a pretty far distance, and we are ready to get to work, so where is the crime scene”

Crypt’s eyebrow raised slightly as Tyr started fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “Um, we are happy that you are so…excited to get to work.” He said his eyes lowering to the ground. “But there is no real reason to begin right now” Tyr started acting more and more distracted. “My child your advice is taking in very high esteem but you must remember that this is the reason that we are here and we are ready to start right now.” Crypt replied coolly. “Well we don’t need to start with the crime scene, we could start somewhere else.” Tyr said. “Tyr, we need to start at the crime scene to figure out what is needed of us.” Crypt replied with a little more force this time. “Well how about we start tomorrow.” Tyr said desperately trying to avoid the crime scene. Crypt sighed slightly and turned to the Catachan. “Viktor why don’t you try and persuade the man.” Crypt said with a faint smile.
 

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Antony waited outside by the hauler for a few moments. Letting Gearth Scare away all the possible witnesses and spring any possible ambushes. Antony was not about to die in the rain, thats not how he wanted to go, not that he wanted to at all. So to fill the time he balance his wickedly sharp throwing knife on his index finger. When Gearth sounded the all clear Antony trotted inside and immediatly noticed two things, the horrid stench that seemed to just fill the air, and the fact that this low level arbite had a very large hab. To Antony this meant crooked cop, he knew them and back in his day loved them to a degree. He wondered if this had been the man's downfall. He rummaged around in the clothes for a bit knowing that it was pointless. Growing quite bored with the fruitless search Antony went back to the hauler to check on his sniper rifle.
 

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Viktor laughed and Crypt's response, "Here let me get out of the way of your girth.”
Viktor stood back some as Crypt tried to convince Tyr to talk. It was obvious that he was hiding something. And Tyr wanted to wait until tomorrow. The argument went back and forth until Crypt turned to Viktor saying, “Viktor why don’t you try and persuade the man.”

Viktor rolled his eyes, he knew what he was supposed to do, but Viktor was unsure if the man would talk. There was only one way to find out...

"Crypt, go down stairs and make sure we're not disturbed. I'll come down when I'm done."
Crypt left and Viktor turned to face Tyr, who at this point was shaking and slowly backing away.
"Mr. Gaius, If you just tell me that we can see the body and crime scene, then I won't have to touch you."
Tyr opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He continued to back away. Viktor grabbed Tyr and thrust him onto a seat. Viktor then tore the sleeves off Tyr's shirt and ties his hands to the chair. Viktor pulled out his Catachan Fang, the long blade shined if the light.
"Please, you don't have to do this! I don't want to die!" Tyr cried, tears started to roll down his face.
"You're no good to me dead. Tell me and I'll let you go, dammit. Until then I'm going to...I'll let you find out." Viktor said smiling.

Viktor planed the tip of his Fang on Tyr's shoulder. Slowly he pressed the blade into the skin of his victim. Viktor then began to push the blade down Tyr's arm. Tyr screamed in pain for a short time, blood was oozing down him arm.
"I'll tell! I'll tell, just stop, please!"
Viktor used his free hand to use the microbead, and hailed Crypt. Viktor then turned back to Tyr, and stopped the knife when he made it to the bend in his arm. "If you don't take us to the crime scene, i'll continue where we left off." Viktor wiped his blade off with a table cloth, he was careful not to knock anything over. Viktor placed the blade back in it's sheath just as Crypt walked out of the elevator. Viktor then walked over to Tyr and untied him. Using the sleeves he used to tie up Tyr, Viktor makes a crude bandage for his wound. Standing up slowly, Tyr stays as far away as possible from Viktor and Crypt. Viktor once again falls in behind Crypt and whispers, "Did anything happen while you were down there?"
 

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William had been unusually quiet during the ride to the Arbites' hab unit, he had never heard rain before he had been picked up by his first inquisitor so long ago, and now it served to calm him when he was restless. The hauler finally came to a stop and they all got out, Gaerth scaring away all of the residents with his shotgun before any of them could be talked to, William smiled before following them all into the hab.

He wore a tight fitting suit that covered most of his body like a second skin, the material and way that it was made serving to cool his body off or keep it warm if need be. Black Guard issue pants covered his legs and he wore combat boots to cover his feet while a small vest covered in pockets hid his small kevlar vest that protected his vital organs from anything sharp getting to them. In these pockets he had a multitude of small tools should he need to use them, some ammo for his silenced auto-pistol, and one or two cigars.

The throwing knives that he so loved were strapped around his waist on his belt and as they entered the hab unit and made their way to Obinek's home he fingered one of the blades aimlessly. To hide most of what he was wearing at the moment he had chosen to cover himself in a large overcoat, it also served to keep him quite dry, not to mention conceal most of his appearance.

He pushed one of his hands through his grey white hair and watched as the others stopped outside of Obinek's hab. He smiled at Evander as he passed him and made his way through the kicked in doors, "Looks like our good lawbringer had an unexpected visit." He looked around and saw the mess that had been made, seems whoever was sent was not ready for Obinek to put up a fight, cocky?

William looked at Gaerth as Anthony and Evander went into a different room and nodded towards Obinek's study. As they entered he saw that it too was also trashed, "Whoever killed Obinek sure wasn't subtle, shit they trashed this place."
 

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Gearth Madellus - Opinek's Hab

His shotgun raised, Gearth entered the room the room first.

"All clear" Gearth said, lowering his shotgun.

Gearth made his way to the right side of the room to the Arbites study. Noticing William entering the study

"Whoever killed Obinek sure wasn't subtle, shit they trashed this place." William said

"I'm not so sure if it was the murderers who trashed this place or the scum residing here who did. An Arbites is rarely popular and from the "grandeur" spacing of this place, i'd say this lawman had some...unscrupulous dealings." Gearth said examining the room

After walking through the room, Gearth finally noticed something out of place. Literally.

Turning to William, Gearth suspiciously sweeped his gaze over the room once more. "William, this arbites man, he was investigating the murders correct?" Gearth said. "Have you seen any sign of his cogitator in here?" Gearth asked
 

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Evander smiled back easily. "Yes, but before, or after he was killed?" The question wasn't really meant to be answered, as they'd have to find out during their work. Hopefully, there would be some evidence, but if the inhabitants of these habs had done as he expected....

Apparently they had. The Arbites' home looked like it had been looted. It did not stem his earlier suspicions, but he had to be sure. He turned back, seeing Antony about to leave. "Antony, before you leave, check the lock to see if it was broken. I want to make sure." As Antony did that, Evander went left, seeing Gaerth and William take the other side of the hab. He started rummaging through the piles of clothes and other things. Looters likely wouldn't care about the notes, but the murderer might, and if they were gone, it would be a sign that these murders were connected with the xenos, and that the murderer was covering his tracks. Of course, with this mess, it would be hard to find them, and the notes might not even be in the hab at all, through no effort of the murderer. It would hurt to have to go through this smell for nothing.
 

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On the ride down he started to hear Tyr crying out in pain, and Crypt reached up to his microbead to tell Viktor to gag him so the whole world didn't hear when the screaming stopped. Simultaneously the door slid open and he stepped out only to be joined by Tyr and Viktor a few moments later. "Did anything happen while you were down there?" Viktor said. "No although I could hear the racket you were making from here, possible idea next time to gag him so he doesn't scream as loud luckily only the servitor was here." He replied pointing over to the servitor-secretary. "Get any information out of him? or is he just going to lead the way to the crime scene." Crypt looked down at the man's arm which was covered in blood smudges and a crude bandage. "I tried to help you" he reminded Tyr who looked down to the ground again. Crypt sighed and waited for his answer.
 

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Halvador Sytari - Jackcrest Morgue

Halvador followed Torek's quick advance down the passageway to the morgue. Conditions hardly improved the deeper they delved into the facility. The air stank of antiseptics, the musk of death and decay ever present in the background, cloying in his nostrils.

Lumiglobes flickered, illuminating puddles lining the walls. The place was a cesspool of filth, floors with improperly constructed drainage piping creating a breeding ground for bacteria. He inhaled deeply; the moist air also meant that the scrubbers in the recycling units were working poorly, if at all.

The pair reached the end of the hall, and Torek slammed the doors inwards. Immediately they were greeted by a gush of even more frigid air. The two mens' breaths became visible, as the sub-zero temperatures maintained to minimize decomposition of the dead enveloped them.

A tall, spindly man rushed to confront them, indignant at this unexpected and unnannounced invasion of his domain. Torek stopped in place, Halvador off his shoulder. The agents stared impassively at the mortician as he composed himself.

'Who are you? What are you doing down here and why was I not given prior notification?' The words came out in a deluge, tied together as though the man was either nervous or simply a wind-bag.

Whichever was true, Halvador did not feel like allowing this low-level talentless grox treat him as though he was a damned commoner. While by no means arrogant, the doctor bristled at the thought of this backwater washup condescending to him.

He pulled the Gubernatorial mandate and authorization from his breast pocket and shoved it into the mortician's face. 'I am Doctor Halliof, and I do not have time to address you or your inadequacies both as a physician and a mortician.' He paused, savoring the look of disbelief coming across the other man's face. 'You know who we are here to see and why we want to see it. Point us in the direction of Selina Bandig and then get out of our way.'

The mortician, taken aback, could only point towards one of the shrouded corpses in the hall. Halvador lifted an eyebrow, straining to get it above his darkened glasses. The other man understood the hint and disappeared through the front entrance.

Halvador and Torek approached the body, and the doctor lifted up the sheet to see woman's the body underneath.

Halvador took his glasses off and looked at his companion. 'Well that's odd.'
 

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Torek Karchenfiender - Jackcrest Morgue

Torek Karchenfiender yawned as he walked into the medical facility, leaving the freezing rain behind him. His black-leather trench-coat swung around him, concealing the gun and knife he carried with him. The firearm was a matte-black revolver, with six barrels, already loaded. Torek had, however, put the safety-catch on; he didn't want to lean on something and end up shooting himself in the balls. His knife was a small, combat knife; a sharp blade, and a strong, wooden haft, kept inside a leather holster. Torek tapped his headset, and it immediately sprang into life; the Iron Gauntlet on Torek's wrist flickered, and began to come online. When it had warmed up, Torek ran a quick check; he brought up his other hand, and passed it over the blue-light in his covered palm. Suddenly, a static, clipped voice filtered through his headset;

*Subject: Living, skin-cell, hand, human. DNA: Recorded: Torek Karchenfiender.* Torek was satisfied the ancient device was working, and stopped it before it relayed any more information.

As Torek entered the facility with Halvador, he immediately noticed alarmed glances from one of the medical staff. Following the man's eyes, Torek noticed he was staring at the Iron Gauntlet. Torek immediately smiled, and explained it was not a weapon. He demonstrated what it did to the man, who was completely mystified, and walked on. Why does everyone think it's a bloody weapon? thought Torek to himself, flexing the device with his fingers. It would not be long before he needed to use it.

Torek allowed Halvador to address the non-plussed secretary, before following his directions to the morgue. Torek spoke to his companion; "Jeez, this place stinks," Torek wrinkled his nose, trying not to gag, "so how come you're in this mess, anyway? I'm a detective; I've done a few jobs, most of them small time. Torek Karchenfiender's the name." Torek continued in a hushed voice, "The Inquisitor picked me up in some damned brothel-tavern, not really making good first impressions. But I was only there because I was told it was the place to go to get hired... and I guess it was true." Torek smiled at the memory of the half-naked women dancing around him and the Inquisitor as they made their acquaintances, the background whirling with tempting flesh whilst Torek was completely un-interested in what they had to offer.

Entering the morgue-proper, Torek shivered slightly as the cold air hit him. Halvador spoke with the man there, who also stared at Torek's hand-scanner.

"It's not a freakin' weapon, just piss off." said Torek, not bothering with subtlety. He was tired of explaining himself to every single little piece of Imperial bureaucracy he had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting. The man took the hint, and left the morgue, after showing Halvador the body.

Halvador looked at the revealed body, and turned to Torek. "Well, that's odd."
Torek agreed. He had studied chemical and physical science on Terra, and so knew a little of medical science. Obviously not as much as his companion, but enough to notice the oddity.
"OK," said Torek, flexing his hands, "you're the medical expert. I can do any chemical or physical stuff you need, and can scan this body down to molecular level. Anything you need info on, just ask me and I'll get it sorted." Torek drew up a couple of chairs, and sat down. He would let Halvador work, and would watch in the mean-time. He had intended to study more medical science, and so watching a master would prove fascinating to Torek.
 

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Antony decided it would not be wise to irritate his comrades this early and in this poor of weather so as a gesture of good will he decided to check the lock. As he examined the lock he noticed that the inside was covered in scratches, a sure sign of an unskilled lockpick trying his hand. However, it was hard to tell how recent the scratches were, they could have been from 10 years ago to 10 minutes ago. "The lock has been picked, or at least someone at sometime has attempted it, its nigh impossible to judge how long ago the damage occured. Antony called out. As antony left he had a nagging feeling about the lock. He finally decided that the rifle could wait, and decided to double check the lock. As he performed a more thorough search he found that the lock had indeed been picked recently, and by someone who knew what they were doing. The theif had used the old scratches to hide his mistakes. "Looks like our friend here had an unwelcome visitor not too long ago, a pro by the looks of it too." With that Antony left before the remarks about his contradictory statements could be voiced.
 
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