Kyran sat at his desk and gazed over the many data slates that were spread before him. How had it come to this? Not ten years ago the populace considered the Imperium of Man to be their saviour after the green skin invasion nearly a century ago. Most citizens he knew were still loyal to the Emperor, but they were in hiding due to fear of this new cult that had sprung up and over thrown Kyran's government. Barely escaping with his life, the planet was now occupied by heretics and his small force of guardsmen was now fighting a rebellion.
How strange it seemed. For thousands of years there had been grumblings from the populace questioning the will of the Emperor, then the foul xenos arrive and they beg the Imperium to save them. When the Astartes arrive and cleanse the planet of the green skin filth, they cheer the Imperium, but now... they have gone to a whole new level and completely abandoned the Emperor. Lowering his head Kyran slide a slate forward and told his aide to go ahead with the plan.
A fist slammed on the table and a voice with the sound of the grave said, "An example must be made! Let them know the consequences of turning from the light of the emperor."
The Highlords of Terra looked around at each other and one by one nodded their consent. "Very well...dispatch the agent to deal with this problem."
Jared was out in the fields with the dawn, scratching a living and trying to meet the demands of this new regime. Deep inside he felt that what was going on was terribly wrong, but too many of his friends have disappeared when they spoke against this terrible power. The day drew on and dusk slowly approached. Leaning back he felt his back crack from the strain and slowly opened his eyes. As he did he saw a ball of fire rapidly falling from the sky. Thinking it nothing more than a meteor, he shrugged and started to go back to his work when he heard a loud cracking sound. Turning his gaze back to the object he noticed that there was another spear of flame burning in the front and that the decent was actually slowing.
Jared wasted no time in dropping his tools and running in the direction this thing had fallen. As he leapt over fallen logs littering the path through the woods his mind raced with what the legends say of Angels of Death falling from the sky in balls of fire. The legends spoke of giants amongst men, who smote the enemies of the Emperor, the Adeptus Astartes. Thinking that their salvation had come, he stumbled into the clearing and fell face first into the mud. Slowly lifting his head he saw a small one man vessel was buried half way in the mud and was steaming, the mud around it sizzling quietly.
As he slowly made his way towards it, a hatch opened silently along the side and a thick fog rolled out of the door. Coughing, Jared tried desperately to see inside and barely saw two blood red eyes gleaming in the darkness at him. Finally finding the courage to speak, he opened his mouth and took another step forward. Before he had time to register that the eyes have moved he found himself inches from them and staring straight into those red eyes and tasted blood as it welled up in his mouth. Looking down, he saw four long razor sharp blades attached to fingers, creating a sort of clawed gauntlet...and the fingers of that gauntlet were slowly pushing deeper into his chest. A gasp of pain escaped his lips and as his world darkens he looks into the face of the killer...only to have that gaze met by the grinning features of a skull.
Slowly the body slid to the ground, the suction caused by the claws piercing his chest causes the assassin to place a boot against the farmer's chest and push him away, his eyes staring blankly up at his killer. Quickly snapping his head around in all directions, the assassin got a bearing for his location and began to sprint through the woods to the east.
The trees and bushes flying past as little more than blurs, leaves barely touching his helmet before being whisked away by the wind, it isn't long before he finds himself standing at the edge of the woods over looking the largest city on the planet. Barely breaking a sweat, he activates a file that causes the detailed information of the mission to scroll across the tactical readout built into his visor.
After a few minutes, if someone had seen the face beneath the mask they would have said that the grin of the assassin was enough to chill the blood of a Space Marine. The assassin started off at a quick and quiet jog towards the outskirts of the city, a thought flashing through his mind before he had to concentrate.
Each Assassin Temple is used for different reasons. Those of the Vindicare Temple are used to demonstrate to the enemy that they can be reached from the farthest reaches.
Those of the Callidus Temple are used to show that even your most trusted staff can be a death sentence.
Those of the Culexus show that the Imperium of Man does not tolerate the witch to live.
But the Eversor Temple, with out doubt the most brutal and shocking, of the Adeptus Assassinorium. It has been said that the thing that is most chilling to an enemy is not the burned out decay of a village or town, but an entire city that has not a single living soul. The orders that the assassin had received that caused a grin with the likes of the skull he wears... kill the Lord in command of the planet, and anyone who you see.
The assassin waited until the darkest hour of the night before breaking from the cover of the tree's at a full run. Pausing at the base of the curtain wall that surrounded the city, he gazed up and waited for the sentry to complete a full patrol before pulling out a pistol sized weapon with a spike at the muzzle. Waiting till the sentry had disappeared around the corner he fired the weapon at the top of the wall, the design of the spike and the power of the shot impaling the spike deep into the adamantine surface.
With inhuman strength and speed the assassin scaled the seven-hundred metre wall. As he neared the top he was forced to pause as he heard several pairs of booted feet approaching his position. Grinning beneath his mask he waited until they were practically on top of his position before vaulting himself over the wall. Landing in the middle of three guards, his clawed hand lashed to the left and ripped the throat from the first, his boot caught the second in the groan, as his right hand drew his sword from the sheath across his back and activated the power cell milliseconds before the blade cleaved the third guard in twain. Imbedding the sword in the rock he spun and drew his pistol as the claws on his hand drew deep gouges across the face of the second guard. Bringing his pistol up he sighted on the head of another guard who rounded the corner and with a silent hiss, two needles flew across the darkness and penetrated his eyes, blowing bits of brain matter out over the wall behind him. Hearing a faint gurgling sound behind him he grabbed his sword and slammed it into the chest of the second guard, burying it up to the hilt and feeling warm blood flowing over his fingers.
The assassin withdrew the blade and sheathed it across his back without bothering to wipe the blood clean from it as he slid his pistol back into its holster. Looking around at the corpses he glanced at the chronometric display on his visor and laughed. The laugh sounded from the depths of hell itself, the laugh of a truly sadistic psychopathic killer. The reason for the laugh... from the time he landed between the three guards to the time they were all dead had taken just over four seconds. The guards had died before they even knew they were being attacked!
Leaning over the side of the wall, the assassin peered down to find a suitable point of entry. Finding that the roof of what appeared to be some barracks was about halfway down the wall, he leaned over the other side and touched a stud on the imbedded spike, causing the rope to retract rapidly into the spike, leaving about of foot of length dangling outside it. Grasping hold of the rope he turned and threw himself off the inner side of the wall. Body arrowed straight down he plummeted towards the roof of the building. Numbers and warnings flashed across his visor, grinning at the sheer thrill of free-falling he ignored them until they started to flash more urgently. Deciding that failing the mission by splattering into the roof of a building was unacceptable, he twisted his body and buried the claws on his left hand into the wall. The screeching sound of metal was clearly audible to those that were on the top floor of the barracks. Feeling that he was still descending too quickly he tugged on the rope quickly, which signalled the mechanism to create the friction to slow him more.
The last dozen metres he activated the thermal imaging on his visor and located a room with the most bodies. Again, he grinned and when he was six metres from the roof he kicked himself away from the wall and released the rope. Twisting in the air, his claws dragged along the roof before he caught a firm grip which swung him down over the edge of the building, causing him to swing down to a closed window.
Natick was in the barracks, leaning against the door frame of his friend's room as he watched six other guards all huddled around a table playing some new betting game. Gradually he came to understand the game and came in, telling them he wanted in. As the door closed behind him he heard a faint but distinct screeching sound coming from outside. One of the guards muttered something about ordnance drills at all hours. When the screeching stopped they all laughed, mocking the guards who were stuck running drills this late. Next thing they knew, the room was filled with shattering glass from the window exploding. Before Natick could stand he saw the guard's head that was closest to the window go spinning across the room, blood spurting in a large fountain from his neck, before three rapid shots rang out and the room was plunged into darkness.
Natick fumbled for his service pistol at his hip as he heard screams coming from all corners of the room. But this all seemed impossible. He felt blood splash over his face from the left and almost immediately followed by a death scream and blood soaked his back. Turning he raised the pistol and fired a pair of shots at a blur that the muzzle flash revealed. Turning quickly he fired another shot as the figure raked razor sharp claws from the fourth guards neck to his belt in less than a second.
He heard the distinct sound of a power sword charging and saw the silver blade wreathed in blue energy flash across the room and eerily illuminated the face of his friend as it pinned his head to the wall. Screaming in terror now he spun around in time to see the last guard fall to his knee's, his shirt torn open and over a dozen bloody gashes criss-crossing his chest. He paused and slowly turned. As he did he could faintly make out the glimmer of moonlight off a grinning skull with glowing red eyes. He raised his pistol and quickly emptied the clip at the figure. He saw a blur of motion and when he heard the click signalling that the weapon was empty he caught a glimpse behind the sinister figure and saw that the remainder of his clip had hit nothing but the far wall.
He felt, more than saw, the shadowed killer take measured steps towards him. Grasping the hilt of his combat knife, he yanked it from his belt and stabbed towards the shadow. He saw the skull dart to the left and felt a hand grip his wrist in such a manner that bones snapped. Before he could even register the pain he felt a bursting pain in his head. Purely by reflex his hand want to his neck and he felt two fingers pressed against his jaw, his last conscious though was that it was his assailant's left hand. As he slumped to the floor, the last thing he saw were two eyes glowing with pure hatred and he heard a faint laugh and a deep, muffled voice say "Pathetic..."