Grapefruits and Letterbombs
A short story revolving around Inquisitor Han of the Ordo Ludificatio as he travels on a negotiation mission with the Warriors of the Holy Canon, in hopes that the two factions can settle their differences and fight against the true enemy of mankind. However, negotitions take a dangerous and dark turn with what was a peaceful negotiation turning into a conflict that will forever wedge two factions that should be allies apart...all the while the Thousand Editors are laughing and whispering to themselves: "Just as planned."
Inquisitor Han of the Ordo Ludificatio walked through the halls of the Ferrugineae Cochleari, having just returned from a very important mission, which he regretted to admit he botched up. Fortunately, he hadn’t told his mentor of this yet, just his fellow Inquisitor: Inquisitor Cal. The moment Han had admitted to messing up his mission, Cal broke down into a fit of laughter, proceeding to tell his accomplice: “Dude, you’re so fucked.” Han hated to admit it, but Cal was right, he was fucked. Just as Han reached the large, adamant doors leading to the bridge, the Inquisitor couldn’t help but think:
What am I going to do now?
The doors opened, and the smell of smoke filled the Inquisitor’s lungs. Violently coughing, Han quickly covered his nose and mouth with a bandana strapped around his neck. Making his way through the bridge, Han eventually found who he was looking for. Sitting upon the command throne, was Inquisitor Han’s mentor and leader of the Ordo Ludificatio: “The Immortal.” The Immortal was dressed as he usually was: A large, maroon cloak draped around his shoulders. The Inquisitor’s left arm was a cybernetic replacement, with a small keyboard installed in his left wrist. A large psyber-hawk was perched on the inquisitor’s right shoulder, silent as always. A purgatus crossbow was strapped to the inquisitor’s left thigh, and a large sheathed was strapped to his back, holding the mighty force sword Trollkicker. Inquisitor Han noticed a thick cigar was wedged between his mentor’s teeth, and a small can to The Immortal’s right contained the smouldering stubs of other cigars he had previously smoked.
The Immortal noticed his pupil off to his side, and nodded for Han to step forwards. The Immortal proceeded to remove the cigar from his teeth, and then spoke in a pliable manner.
“Sup Han?” The Immortal questioned. “I hear you’ve finished that negotiation mission I sent you on.”
“Yes sir…” Han mumbled.
“And? Don’t leave me in the dark bro, how’d it go?”
“Well,” the pupil started. “It went poorly, unfortunately.”
The Immortal snapped to attention, his lenient expression had vanished. “Come again? I pray to the God-Emperor that you’re joking.”
“Trust me when I say I wish I was joking.” Han sighed.
The psyber-hawk perched on The Immortal’s shoulder cawed, followed by The Immortal groaning. “Duuude, not cool. I give you a job, I expect you to see it through. When you come back with news like this, it doesn’t just make you look bad, it makes all of us look bad. Capiche?”
“Yes sir.” Han mumbled.
The Immortal nodded, before placing his cigar back in his mouth. “Good. Now then, I want you to give me a report on what happened at the negotiation. Alright?”
Han nodded, unsure of what else he could do to respond. The Immortal laughed, before gesturing him to start. Inquisitor Han took in a deep breath before starting. “Okay, but I might need a seat, this is a going to take a while.”
A smirk crossed over The Immortal’s face. “That’s what she-”
“Don’t say it!” Han snapped.