Public Cheers (Social Thread)

Lucius

Member
Lucius
📜Character Bio📜
The Hive outside buzzed with it's typical activity as Sgt. Redmond wove through the crowd towards the neon sign advertising the entertainment district on this level. A variety of vices were available to the citizenry, smoke and drink among others. That was what concerned the guardsman at the late hour it was. He'd spent his workday fragging gangers at the order of his masters, a group that'd ignored the rules laid out by both the government and the section of gangs that mantained harmony with the Imperial Order. His autogun's barrel was still warm as he found his way into a bar, dimly lit under it's own electronic light. Lucius had found it best to decompress before returning home after a day spent fighting humans. Orks, xenos, those were a little different. Not nearly as bothersome to the soul. Despite their sins, the shock trooper tended to sympathize with the enemy when they shared a common humanity. Traitors that they were.

He let out a long sigh as he took his helmet off and sat it on the counter in front of him, unslinging his rifle before taking an empty seat at the bar. His pockmarked red and black armor had long ago lost it's shine to the radioactive sands of Baal. From his pocket he produced a pack of Lho-Sticks and lit one as he motioned for the bartender to serve him, they slid him a bottle of the level's local rotgut. Lucius took a long draw of his lho as he let the events of the day melt away into merciful nothingness. Around him a variety of civilians, soldiers, and other servants of the Empire did the same, taking a short break from whatever woes they had found troubling them.
 
Vex dispised hives. The Imperium wasn't known for its cleanliness or amenities, but hives were easily among the worst places one could be. They were utterly fithy, the plumbing never worked, it was cramped, the air was stale at the best of times, and it was either freezing cold or blisteringly hot, never anywhere in between. And the smell, Throne the smell, that was easily the worst part about it. Grime and filth she could tolerate, it was part of the job, and she could clean it off of herself without immense difficulty. Cramped quarters were also normal, far from a problem, it was more cramped here than most other places save maybe a voidship, but tolerable. Stale air? She could get used to that after some time. Temperature wasn't a problem either, that was a given just about anywhere you went.

But the smell of a Hive City was one she could never get used to, that many people, in such close confines, with atrocious plumbing, even worse heigene, and barely having any chance to bathe themselves? At least in the field one could occaisionally rely on rainwater or even use one's own water ration to sparingly scrub away at some of the grime. Heck she had seen Valhallans just use snow. But not in hives. If there even was a place to bathe at all, it likely didn't work, and was far from a priority.

It was no wonder she had been dispatched to assist with the clearing of the hive scum and gangers that had begun giving the local peacekeepers trouble. It was not a clean job, nor an enjoyable one. Normally Vex was all too happy to dispose of the Imperium's enemies, and even here she did her duties as whe was meant to. But this time it had been different. She hadn't been a Commissar for long, she'd only graduated from the Progenium a year or so prior, so she had yet to be truly hardened by the work. And so today in particular had been rough.

She was already sitting at the bar, nursing a cup of heavy Amasec, when a sergeant from another unit sat down and placed his helmet on the counter only a few seats away from her. She looked over his armor for a brief moment, trying to see if perhaps she'd interacted with him earlier that day, she'd spoken with several sergeants throughout their task. Giving orders, making threats, speeches about loyalty and duty, the usual things that a Commissar was charged with doing. So maybe she'd seen him earlier, maybe not.

She took another swig from her mug, the bitter drink tasted like engine grease but it gave her the buzz she needed. "Long day Sergeant?" she asked absently, not taking her eyes off of the mug in front of her.
 
A voice broke through the pleasant numbness that had started to settle over Lucius's mind, bringing him back to the table and barstool before he floated too far. He glanced at the source and was more than mildly surprised to find the uniform of a Commissar fill his vision. A welcome rarity, one of the commissariat that would mingle among the rabble. From his service he'd found that they tended to be incredibly bright and resourceful, a welcome addition to many battlefields, or the bane of a soldier's existence. There tended not to be a lot of middle ground in it. They were either benefits or detriments to their charges, same as any other officer or nco. Those that proved to be detriments found themselves short lived in the 8th, the Shock Troopers tolerance for poor leadership reflected their ganger origins.


The lho stick kept Lucius in a happy haze as he drank on his rotgut. In spite of the vivid memories that filled his mind. Shades of red strewn across littered underhive floors. "Yes ma'am. Very productive." He said to Commissar Vex Pevicci with a genuine, slightly sharklike smile. "Yourself?" He thanked the Emperor for the booze in his cup and the smokes in the pack. The haze kept a fresh memory of him wrestling a ganger to the ground before ending the match with his trench knife. Their gaze had lingered with his, for far to long, solidifying their irises forever in the back corners of his soul.
 
Vex looked back in the direction of the Sergeant as he began to speak. A simple and short answer, not that she expected anything else. Most guardsmen were cautious around commissars, understandably so. Even those who were more prone to killing their commissars off tended not to do so without provocation. The Death Korps came to mind as the only exception, and that's simply because their zeal outclassed that of the Commissariat. She didn't know why the Imperium even bothered sending them commissars at all. So the curt answer was to be expected.

She would turn in her seat to face the man more directly. She'd removed her greatcoat and cap at the door, leaving her in her undercoat and sash. Still very identifiable as a uniform, though lacking the more immediately overt marks of her rank.

She studied his uniform more closely. It took a few moments for her to actually identify it, as it wasn't the kind of uniform worn by the more well-known regiments. It wasn't like the red coats and tall fur hats of the Vostroyans, nor the hazard suits of the Steel Legion. But after a few seconds of thinking she thought she had it.

"That's a very proper way to put it." She commented on his choice of words. "A Necromundan Regiment, if I'm not mistaken? I suppose that would mean this place feels almost like home. Hive cities are just about the same no matter where you go."

She took another swig of her Amasec, the tint in her cheeks would tell him she'd already had a few. "You could say the day has been productive on my end too. Mission accomplished at least."
 
"Only way to be with a stranger from your station. Good on ya. We had a run with some gangers earlier, nasty business but they needed to be gone." Lucius said as he continued to smoke. "After two millenia it is home, but we do remember where we came from, even if it's all stories and myth now. Doubt we'll ever see that set of wastes." He chuckled and grinned. "They are pretty damn similar, aren't they?"

In a way, Baal and Necromunda could be considered cosmic twins, in spite of their seperate points in space they shared the same radioactive wastes and constant stream of both humanity and her enemies. Monuments to the best and worst that the species had to offer. Planet's that were just as much tomb worlds as bastions of life.

"Where are you from, Commissar?" Lucius asked as the alcohol and smoke began to make him a little more social, that and the officer's general demeanor. A welcome distraction from the brutality of the days events. Commissar Vex Pevicci
 
"You can relax Sergeant." She reassured him. "I won't execute you for enjoying your time off. No… I've had quite enough of killing for one day." She took another swig, setting the empty mug down and calling the bartender over for another.

It made a lot of sense to her, sending gangers to hunt gangers. For once the Administratum actually did their homework and sent the right people for the job. Who better than to defeat a foe than one who knew that foe inside and out? Gangers were, as far as she was concerned, little different than an infestation of cockroaches. Impossible to snuff out and very good at scurrying away before things got bad for them. Of course that wasn't to dismiss them altogether, they were a dangerous bunch.

"I hail from Kastille." She told him as she received her next round. "It's a little known shrine world on the Eastern Fringe, the closest real civilization out there is Ultramar. There's really not much else to say about it. It was all Sermons and Agriculture."

Redmond
 
The bar had been loud for some time. Voices overlapped with bursts of laughter, the dull clink of bottles, and the static hiss of cheap neon lights struggling to cut through the grime that coated every surface of the hive. To most patrons, it all blended into background noise, but to Saelis, it formed a map. Heartbeats, posture, the tension in the shoulders, the subtle shift of a hand toward a weapon that might or might not be there. Each detail settled into place with practiced clarity.

She had been sitting in the darker corner of the establishment long before the sergeant walked in.

The smell was unpleasant, though not unfamiliar. The Tau operative had endured far worse during reconnaissance, but hive cities carried a particular kind of oppression. Too many bodies pressed into too little space, the air thick with the residue of centuries of neglect. Still, the crowd's density served its purpose. It hid many things, including her.

The conversation between the two Imperial officers drifted clearly across the room. Commissar and soldier. An interesting pairing, though not unheard of after a difficult operation.

When the Commissar finished speaking about her shrine world, Saelis lifted her glass, some watered‑down local alcohol she had purchased purely for appearances, and took a small, measured sip.

Then she spoke.

Her voice was calm, quiet, and unexpectedly smooth. "Then today has been fortunate for all of you."

The words came from slightly behind them, not loud enough to draw the attention of the entire bar, but close enough that the two soldiers could not mistake their source.

Saelis leaned forward into the low light. Without armor, she appeared almost unassuming, slender and composed, dark hair falling loose around pale blue‑grey skin. Her amber eyes remained steady and unreadable. Only the unfamiliar shape of her features and the stillness in her posture revealed that she was not human.

Her gaze moved between them before settling on the Commissar. "Few operations end with both sides walking away to drink."

She rested one elbow on the table, her posture relaxed yet deliberate. "Productive days are rare commodities in places like this."

A brief pause followed before she inclined her head in a small gesture of polite acknowledgement, one that did not quite match any Imperial custom. "Forgive the intrusion. Your conversation was difficult to ignore."

Redmond Commissar Vex Pevicci
 
A now voice joined the conversation, causing the slightly buzzed woman to look up from her mug to identify who had spoken. The stranger wore no uniform that Vex could identify, her attire seemed common enough. Though that didn't necessarily mean anything special on its own, though the girl was remarkably clean and also notably poised, which screamed at the commissar that this person wasn't what she seemed to be on the surface. Though that didn't tell her anything on its own either.

She decided that thinking about it hurt her head too much at the moment, so she chose to simply take the girl at face value.

"It's no bother." She told her, "it's not like anything we're talking about is a secret. Though I am curious what you qualify as productive if you say they are rare in a hive. The only places more productive are dedicated manufactorums."

In truth Vex was only making conversation to distract herself from her thoughts, thinking back on the events of the day. She could only think about what she had to do in this place, both to keep the troops in good order and to make sure they knew she was able to do what she was asking them to do.

"What's your name stranger?" She asked.

Redmond Shas'vre Dal'yth Saelis
 
The thought of an agri world of rolling hills was an alien concept. Something he'd only seen in pictures and tapes, artwork. He almost thought, for a moment, he could feel the heat of the planet's star as he imagined an idyllic, cloudless day. Lucius's entire life had been spent in and around Baal and it's surrounding systems, lot of deserts and hives. Endless sand. "That doesn't sound so bad. Civilization can be a tad overated."

He felt his hairs stand up as the stranger behind him spoke, a reflex from years of conflict. Anything sudden happening unexpectedly on his six o' clock always sent a slight instinct through him. As he'd aged his reactions had become less visible to it, but the internal feeling remained. Whoever it was sounded like they came from a higher level, or somewhere else fancier, particularly with the comment on productivity. He glanced over at the stranger as the Commissar asked their name.

Definitely a noble. Or something similar. He politely nodded, waiting on the stranger to answer the question. Striking up a conversation with a noble in a lower level, particularly when a Commissar just so happened to be there chatting with the rabble was something to be approached with a modicum of caution for a Guardsman.

Commissar Vex Pevicci Shas'vre Dal'yth Saelis
 
Saelis did not answer immediately.

Silence, in places like this, often said more than words. She let the question settle between them while she studied the two Imperials properly now that their attention had shifted toward her.

The Commissar's posture carried authority even through the haze of alcohol. Young, she noted. The kind of sharpness that had not yet been worn down by decades of service. The Guardsman beside her carried himself differently, more relaxed on the surface but with the coiled instincts of a veteran who had survived long enough to learn caution.

Both armed. Both dangerous.Both tired.

Her amber eyes flicked briefly toward the sergeant as he instinctively acknowledged her presence. She had noticed the subtle shift in his shoulders the moment she spoke. Good reflexes.

Then she returned her attention to the woman in the sash.

"My name," she said calmly, "is Saelis."

No titles. No embellishment. Just the name.

She lifted the small glass in her hand and examined the amber liquid before taking another measured sip. The drink was harsh and poorly distilled, but she had endured worse during long deployments.

"You are correct about manufactorums," she continued, her voice quiet but steady. "They produce endlessly. Steel, ammunition, machines."

Her gaze drifted around the room, taking in the cracked walls, the smoke hanging in uneven layers beneath flickering lumen strips, the exhaustion etched into every corner of the hive.

"But productivity is not always measured in output."

Her eyes returned to the Commissar.

"A hive produces exhaustion. Violence. Survival." She paused, letting the words settle. "Today, however, it appears it produced something rarer."

She gestured lightly between the two of them with the rim of her glass.

"Soldiers who lived long enough to sit down."

The statement held no irony, only observation.

She set the glass back on the table and leaned back slightly in her chair, her posture relaxed but attentive, as though she were giving them space to decide whether this conversation would continue.

"And you, Commissar," she said, her tone still calm, "have also survived your day."

A faint hint of curiosity touched her expression, subtle but unmistakable.

"That alone makes it productive."

Her gaze shifted briefly toward the Guardsman.

"And you as well, Sergeant."

Then she looked back to the Commissar, her head tilting just slightly in a gesture that was almost polite.

"If you still wish to know what I do here," she said, her voice even and unhurried, "I could ask the same of you."

Another small pause, this one deliberate.

"What brings a Commissar to drink among strangers rather than officers?"

Redmond Commissar Vex Pevicci
 
Now the Commissar was on guard. Her flushed cheeks didn't go away, and she was definitely not sober. But she wasn't stupid, nor was she inebriated enough not to be alarmed when someone of superior poise and verbiage gave a one-word name without adding additional titles or honors or a long line of patronymics. When someone so clearly higher up looked to be trying to be subtle when visiting a lower end bar after a battle could be chocked up to them being curious, but that same person giving such a simple name along with wordy but still somewhat vague answers as well as deflecting a question back at her? This woman wasn't who she said she was...

Could Vex be under surveillance? She didn't think anyone had noticed, she'd made sure noone was around when it happened. Was this woman an inquisitor trying to extract a confession? Some other investigative agent that was calling her zeal into question? She'd only hesitated a brief second, not longer. And she'd done her duty as was required of her. Didn't she?

Now that she thought about it a few of the woman's statements sounded dangerously close to accusations, while being gentle enough to be considered a simple observation to the unassuming.

For now she could only hope to assuage the woman's suspicions in this conversation by answering truthfully, and hoping that she was found not guilty.

She took another swig of her Amesac to hide her expression as she considered how to answer, before setting it down again with a sigh. "It's a Commissar's duty to ensure the loyalty and the morale of the troops under their care. These troops are under my care, and I can see to my duties more reliably if I am a part of their unit rather than separate from it. And it's easier to intermingle with the troops when they're in their downtime, not when they're actively being shot at. Besides... Officers are too snobbish for my tastes. I grew up a simle lass, I gravitate to simpler people."

She hoped and prayed that answer would be sufficient, her worry that this suspiciously well mannered woman in such a place as this without obvious uniform and no honorifics or titles disclosed was after her not yet subsiding.

Redmond Shas'vre Dal'yth Saelis
 
Lucius's ears were set on edge by the conversation. He wondered if the Commissar had done something to warrant an inquiry of some kind, though the manner of investigation was puzzling. Normally the inquisition was much more aggressive about such things, barging into private quarters and generally shaking down someone suspected of anything warranting their attention. So probably not them. The question burned in his mind as he tumbled it about, his lineage had a natural predilection about hidden knowledge, tending to dig for information even if it might be considered unwise. Something about his family collectively dodging dodging bullets as frequently as they did may have contributed to it.

The Commissar bristled slightly as the other woman spoke, seeming to catch a similar hint of something odd about the whole thing. Lucius maintained his relaxed demeanor as he rolled theories about in his mind. He chuckled at the Commissar's comment about snobbish officers.

"We share that opinion, Commissar." He said, before turning about in the chair, properly joining the conversation between the three. "How should I address you.....Saelis?" He said to the stranger before continuing to smoke, pausing between his next sentence, maintaining a friendly smile as he spoke again. "For my own sake, something tells me we're in different social stratum."

Commissar Vex Pevicci

Shas'vre Dal'yth Saelis
 
Saelis listened without interruption.

The tension in the air had shifted, subtly but unmistakably. The Commissar's explanation carried a weight that went beyond the literal meaning of her words. The slight pause before she spoke, the careful selection of phrasing, the deliberate honesty threaded through each sentence. All of it suggested someone who measured every syllable not out of fear, but out of discipline and experience.

Saelis did not push against that guardedness.

Instead, she inclined her head once in quiet acknowledgment, a gesture that conveyed understanding without demanding anything further.

"That is a sensible philosophy," she said, her voice steady and composed. "A commander who remains distant rarely understands the people she leads."

There was no accusation in her tone now. Only the clarity of observation, the kind that came from someone who had spent a lifetime watching others more closely than they realized.

"Morale cannot be measured from behind a desk," she added, letting the truth of it settle between them.

She allowed the moment to breathe before the Guardsman shifted his chair toward her, joining the exchange with a more direct interest. His posture was relaxed, but the curiosity behind his eyes was sharper than he intended it to appear. It was an instinctive alertness that came from surviving too many situations where details mattered.

Saelis noticed, of course. She always did.

When he asked how he should address her, the faintest hint of amusement touched her expression. It was subtle enough to vanish if one blinked.

"Saelis will suffice," she replied. The simplicity of the answer carried its own quiet confidence.

Her amber eyes moved between the two Imperials again, reading posture, tone, and the unspoken instincts of people who had lived long enough in dangerous professions to recognize when something, or someone, did not quite fit the expected pattern.

The sergeant's final comment drew a small breath of consideration from her. It was a thoughtful pause rather than a defensive one.

Different social strata.

An interesting assumption.

"You may be overestimating my position, Sergeant," she said lightly, though her tone remained even. "Composure and good vocabulary are not always signs of privilege."

Her fingers tapped the rim of her glass once, a small rhythmic gesture that matched the cadence of her thoughts.

"I travel frequently," she continued, her voice softening into something almost reflective. "One learns to observe before speaking in unfamiliar environments."

A brief pause followed. It was not for dramatic effect. She was choosing her words with the same care she used for everything else.

"Particularly after a battle."

Her gaze drifted toward Lucius's armor. The worn plates, the lingering dust, the scarring that spoke of recent violence. Then it returned to the two of them with a steadiness that suggested she understood more than she was saying.

"You both appear to have had an unpleasant day," she observed, not unkindly.

Then she leaned forward slightly, resting her forearm on the table in a posture that was open without being vulnerable.

"Tell me," she said, her voice calm and genuinely curious, "was the operation successful?"

It was not an interrogation.

Just a question.

But it was delivered with the quiet attentiveness of someone who truly wanted to hear the answer and who would understand far more from the way they gave it than from the words themselves.

Commissar Vex Pevicci Redmond
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top Bottom