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A Day In The Life - Ross Gilbert | |
| Inquisitor Covenant ducked as a hail of Inferno shells hammered into the wall behind him, leaving guttering fires to consume the ragged and worn paint that covered the ruined Hab-block. Mentally, he counted the bullets the gunman opposite him had expended in the last two minutes. One more volley and his guns would be…
Empty, “Slick” Devlan thought, tossing both his pistols to the ground in front of him and unlimbering his combat shotgun. Looking up just in time to see Covenant break cover and sprint for the corner of the street, he brought his gun up to the waist and racked shot after shot at the running figure. The Inquisitor grunted and fell into a clumsy shoulder roll as several of the shells found their mark in his body. Burning pain ignited as he tried to get up and went sprawling in the dirt. Rolling over, he began to crawl one handed towards the cover of the street corner as his shoulder mounted, neurologically linked Lasgun spat bursts of fire at his assailant, causing “Slick” to dive behind one of the wrecked cars in the street. Blue-white bolts of laser energy hammered around, over and in places, through the thin metal chassis. Making the corner and sitting up, Covenant hastily applied a Medpac to his arm and leg. The chest armour was probably a write off, he thought, as the painkillers took effect and he stood up and looked around. Blood loss was a problem in the long term, but he planned to finish his work here long before that became a worry. Devlan grinned; sure that he had disabled the cocky Imperial agent with a well placed sabot armour-piercing round. Bending to retrieve and holster his pistols, he started to walk casually towards the corner, boots crunching on gravel, holding his shotgun in one hand. He rounded the building and stopped abruptly. The Inquisitor was nowhere to be seen. Devlan looked down an empty street. Behind him, a manhole slid silently open, a gauntleted hand depositing a cylinder before withdrawing. The manhole slid shut. “Slick” spun around, wondering if this was a trick. The lads in his drinking hole had warned him about Covenant’s sense of “humour”. Looking around, a blinking shape on the ground caught his attention, Frag Grenade! He immediately kicked it down the street and was rewarded with the sight of it demolishing the front of a dilapidated bookstore. Then the shockwave hit him, blasting him down and out. Shaking his head and looking up, Devlan noticed two things. First, Covenant had his Force Sword out and it was humming with suppressed energy an inch from his throat, second, the Inquisitor was saying something. “In the name of the Emperor, and by his divine will; I order you to assist me for a period of three months, beginning now, paid upon completion. Also, if you survive, a full Imperial Pardon for any and all crimes you have committed against the Imperium.” Rather unsteadily walking to where Covenant had left his personal carrier, “Slick” noticed the blood stains on his employers clothing and remarked “I nearly got you, you know.” Covenant, lowering himself into the transport, winced and replied “The Emperor protects.” “I don’t suppose the six millimetres of plasteel breastplate and impact hardened ceraplas helped at all then?” Covenant smiled. | |
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