Payback - Graham McNeill by Warhammer 40K

Author:Warhammer 40K [40K, Warhammer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-01-15T05:00:00+00:00

CORNELIUS WAS AS good as his word, leaving Monque’s surgery within minutes, dropping another handful of crushed bills onto the bloody operating table on his way out. With his guns loaded, Cornelius left Monque’s through the back, taking great pains to ensure he was unobserved.

His wound pulled tight. It bled a little. It hurt a lot.

But he’d been lucky. Had Trask’s bullet been a few centimetres to the right, he’d be in the ground by now. He made his way through the streets of Cephalon, the city sweltering and stinking in the heat. Hover carriages passed him and shuttles screamed overhead, heading towards the spaceport as he limped from the royal quarter. He kept clear of the main arterial routes through the city, heading north towards the mutant ghetto.

He passed posters of Space Marines, promising him that His warriors were protecting him, devotional slogans painted on building sides and PDF recruitment posters.

He couldn’t go back to the place he’d stowed his gear; Trask would surely have betrayed its location to Constantine.

It didn’t matter. There was nothing there he’d miss.

He carried all his money with him and anything else he needed he could buy or steal.

But first he needed a place to rest up for a few days. He wasn’t strong enough to take on Constantine yet.

Finding lodgings was easy enough. Cornelius paid for three nights in a run-down flophouse, run by a fat man with an eye-patch and a shotgun. Cornelius greased him with some bills. He found his room, a filthy, bug-infested firetrap. He slept for sixteen hours.

He spent the time building his strength, working out his strategy.

Find Trask. Kill Trask. Take whatever was left of the score. Pretty simple really.

The days blurred. Cornelius stripped his weapons, preparing special hand-loads for the stubber. Dumdums and man-stoppers. One shot killers.

He ate in his room, he drank in the flophouse’s excuse for a bar. He listened to the talk.

Riots had erupted in the mutant ghetto again. SSA snatch squads hit suspected mutant resistance safe houses, killing anyone they found. The mutants reciprocated, ambushing two SSA patrols and bombing several mercantile trading houses.

Rumour was that the ambushes had been carried out with some brand new weaponry. Weaponry the mutants weren’t supposed to have. Questions were bound to be asked by senior members of the SSA and Cornelius knew it wouldn’t take them long to come up with his name. Even if Constantine didn’t give him up, SSA snitches would hear it from Trask’s flapping mouth.

Simmering tension filled the streets. Gunshots became endemic.

People talked of revolution. Cornelius saw opportunities.

Cephalon’s movers and shakers tried to put a soothing spin on events. Holocasts of Cardinal Kodazcka showed the holy man appealing for calm from his pulpit. The powerful mercantile families called for the Governor to maintain order and protect their holdings. Nothing was forthcoming from the Amethyst Palace but stony silence. Rumours flew that the Governor was missing. Said rumours were denied vehemently.

As night drew in on the third day, Cornelius holstered his pistols, filled his belt loops with speed-loaders and pulled on his greatcoat.

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