My brother's autogun rattles on the rockcrete of the shuttlepad, the bolt locked open on an empty

magazine. I'd even expended the powercell of the laser-cutter he habitually clamped on in place
of the upper handgaurd -three of the 10 vigiles Brynt and the local arbiter(himself convulsing on
the ground with a stubber round in his voice box) had brought along displayed long cauterized
gouges on their torsos, one smoldering were I'd sliced through a shotgun shell on his flak vest.
'You caused all this you know you little whore-son' I shouted over the whine of the ornithopter
Ross was bringing down on the pad. It may seem a foolish insult to throw at ones brother, but
he'd been born almost 16 years after my own mother had died in childbirth of our sisters, around
about the time the schola progenium was instructing myself and Gaumont Ross wich end of the
lasgun pointed at the xeno.
'Sure I did Vreno, I smashed myself in the face with my rifle, jamed it into your hand, killed 10
men, pulled my own arm out of it's socket with the other broken one..." he paused to clear his
nasal pasages, splashing crimson on the black and grey of his coat "oh then I shot an agent of
the adeptus arbites in the neck with a vigiles' pistol... Oh wait no that was someone else..."
Groundcars filled with more vigiles were drawing close, sirens howling, the Arbitrator's squad
failing to check in must have triggered a quick responce from whatever central control the vigiles
had, or possibly they were just late to join the squad in the rihno .
'When I find out how you set us up you smug little prick you'll burn.' I still don't really think I ment
that I thought I could clear my name and uncover his lies, but Ross was a terrible pilot and the
thought of him trying to dust off in an unarmoured civilian 'thopter while a bunch of misguided
fools dumped stalker shells and lasbolts and emperor knows what else as us- its not unkown for
shotguns to fire bolter rounds or even lightweight krak grenades, and if the bolter the Arbitrator
himself carried was any indication at the very least they had a few standard bolts around, besides
wich a lucky hit from a stub pistol even as small as the ones the vigiles had could damage an
ornithopter enough to force it to land short 'Untill then I'll just leave you crippled for a few weeks.'
He snorted some more blood this time onto my boot.
'What the hell are you.." then i emptied the 7 or 8 remaining small caliber rounds into his knee
and shins. He screamed something at me, but even without the whine of the grav engine and the
fluttering of the wings as we lifted clear, I wouldn't have wasted the effort to listen, generally
Inquisitors all shout much the same when you kneecap them. Killing him outright would have
garnered the attentions of many more of his ordo after us, and if the heriticus nutbags already
thought Dame Mortis and her rable of assorted tallents (Ross and I providing nothing more than
the precise firepower of imperial storm troopers in most cases) had gone rouge, a corpse with a
rosette would just rile them up to the point were no questions would be asked when we were
vaporised, a bleeding but alive inquisitor would need to explain why his "renegade" elder brother
-who had just aparently assassinated a planetery governess and a former commisar who'd made
himself a local celebrity a few years back saving the same governess's father from eldar just as
the eclesiarch had joined them in matrimony from the very edge of a long las' effective range with
two rapid shots from a xenos las rifle- had missed or chosen to leave him alive. For the record I'd
have used a plasma cannon or a melta bomb in the lectern to ad confusion as to the intended
target had I indeed killed Governess Dulche and Commisar Haiz- you don't live on a ship for 3
decades with an Inquisitor and her pet vindicare without picking up something about confusing an
investigation long enough to escape.