Agathocles
New member
The stench of the aristocracy was something that Agathocles had the frequent displeasure of inhaling. Their expensive colognes and perfumes standing in stark contrast to the world his family had always inhabited, one of sharp metals and the smells of endless work, death. As the majority of the citizens of the Hive did as well. They'd always held themselves apart as they lived off their labor and blood. It made him want to put a knife in their painted faces. It made the ganger glad for his iho stick.
He smiled as a young lord with a painted face slid an envelope across his desk. The aristocracy were frequent customers of the vices offered in the sublevels, on a private basis of course. They paid extra for the silence and discretion. All sanctioned by the lawmakers he saw on a regular basis. Degenerates the lot of them. Luckily his general aura had a sort of quiet hostility that masked his more intense internal hatred for them. Most simply took it as the natural vibe put off by a ganger in charge of four hive levels, though his crew hadn't ever hurt a noble before by reputation unless it was an Imperial sanctioned action. Made him safer than some of the other sources to retrieve illicit substances from. Publically at least. So far there had been three outside of that.
He nodded politely and maintained the smile as the noble left the large shack that served as one of Agathocles's day to day haunts. A ramshackle cantina, one of several, unassuming unless you knew what was happening inside. The man smoked and stretched as he walked to the door frame from his seat, leading out into the larger portion of the small, crowded bar. The patrons were working class hive citizens, from gangers and PDF to factorum laborers. In seperate corners sat two tables of four, all eight his people, security for himself and the establishment. Along with the bartender and the busboy, cook, and server. The iho smoke drifted from his smoke and mingled with the other small clouds drifting from others. Redmond had made it his business to be extremely kind to the general populations of the levels, best he could. It had earned him their loyalty, particularly above their actual, God Emperor given, masters. His levels were the safest on the Hive, and he publically crucified any that violated that peace. One such vagrant, a thief from another level, sat positioned at the level's entrance as the morning rush went by.
His bars stayed busy, as he kept them open twenty four hours and the hive had shifts that ran at all hours. They were one of the few places you could frequent at any time and barring good behavior, safely walk home through the hive level after.
Agathocles smiled. Proud of his handywork as he observed the space and excited for the prospect's and work that the day would bring. There'd been rumors of some freshly disturbed loot retrieved from the underhive by some ambitious young gangers, hidden away among the general rabble some levels below, or so the rumors said. There was talk of jewlery and books, at the very least. If there was even a kernel of truth it was worth a look, knock on a few doors and ask a couple questions. His rich clientele would buy either.
He smiled as a young lord with a painted face slid an envelope across his desk. The aristocracy were frequent customers of the vices offered in the sublevels, on a private basis of course. They paid extra for the silence and discretion. All sanctioned by the lawmakers he saw on a regular basis. Degenerates the lot of them. Luckily his general aura had a sort of quiet hostility that masked his more intense internal hatred for them. Most simply took it as the natural vibe put off by a ganger in charge of four hive levels, though his crew hadn't ever hurt a noble before by reputation unless it was an Imperial sanctioned action. Made him safer than some of the other sources to retrieve illicit substances from. Publically at least. So far there had been three outside of that.
He nodded politely and maintained the smile as the noble left the large shack that served as one of Agathocles's day to day haunts. A ramshackle cantina, one of several, unassuming unless you knew what was happening inside. The man smoked and stretched as he walked to the door frame from his seat, leading out into the larger portion of the small, crowded bar. The patrons were working class hive citizens, from gangers and PDF to factorum laborers. In seperate corners sat two tables of four, all eight his people, security for himself and the establishment. Along with the bartender and the busboy, cook, and server. The iho smoke drifted from his smoke and mingled with the other small clouds drifting from others. Redmond had made it his business to be extremely kind to the general populations of the levels, best he could. It had earned him their loyalty, particularly above their actual, God Emperor given, masters. His levels were the safest on the Hive, and he publically crucified any that violated that peace. One such vagrant, a thief from another level, sat positioned at the level's entrance as the morning rush went by.
His bars stayed busy, as he kept them open twenty four hours and the hive had shifts that ran at all hours. They were one of the few places you could frequent at any time and barring good behavior, safely walk home through the hive level after.
Agathocles smiled. Proud of his handywork as he observed the space and excited for the prospect's and work that the day would bring. There'd been rumors of some freshly disturbed loot retrieved from the underhive by some ambitious young gangers, hidden away among the general rabble some levels below, or so the rumors said. There was talk of jewlery and books, at the very least. If there was even a kernel of truth it was worth a look, knock on a few doors and ask a couple questions. His rich clientele would buy either.
