01x06 - The First Rule

[bunniefuu]

Here’s the thing about cells:

I’ve never had a problem being in one.

Being captured
is just a change of circumstance.

Like waking up on someone’s floor
after a long night,

or coming to in an alleyway after a brawl.

A move from one place to another.

No big deal.

Besides, sitting in a cell
might be the one time

you can guarantee that no one
is trying too hard to k*ll you.

Get. Off. Me.

Hells, Baldur, keep it down.

My head's thick enough as it is.

You ain’t fighting your way out of this.

Ease up.

A nice lie down in a dimly lit cell
will do us both good.

We can get back to k*lling
these idiots later.

sh*t.

Doesn’t look like that little lie down
did you much good.

Maybe not.

But at least you won
that fight with the guards.

I’ve looked worse.

You, on the other hand...

What the hells do you think
Klore wants with us?

Payback for the governor?

Emperor knows.

But if he’d wanted us dead,
we’d be dead already.

They gave it a damn good try.

On your feet, wretch.

The Duke wants to see you.

You best not be dead.

f*ck off.

Up.

This won’t take long.

Then you can go back
to scrabbling around in the dirt

where you belong.

Fine.

But I’m going to be
a terrible conversationalist

without some pills for my head.

The prisoners, sir.

Very well.

Take a seat.

-Sir, I–
-That’ll be all, sergeant.

-But, sir...
-You heard me.

Leave us.

Sir.

Sit down.

I have a problem.

That makes two of us.

This city, this planet,
is sliding into the sh*t.

The proletariat
are rioting in the streets.

We’ve lost communication with Terra.

With no Black Ships,
psykers breed like vermin.

There is a power vacuum.

No one legally responsible
for fixing this mess.

And all this
because of a single shot to the head.

Because, for some reason
unknown to the rest of us,

your master deemed it appropriate
to assassinate the governor.

Bellona was an Inquisitor.

Her actions were unimpeachable.

Were. She’s dead.

Any privilege she, or you, were granted
by that badge of office died with her.

The people need someone to blame.

Right now, they blame each other.

They blame the Houses.

They blame me.

I am sure you understand
that nothing creates unity

like a common enemy.

You will admit your guilt.

You will be presented to the world

as the traitors responsible
for the governor’s death.

Why now?

Because I’ve tried everything else.

Because I’m losing this damn house w*r.

Sedimere has the support of the people.

Idiots.

All that b*stard wants
is to grow fat on their misery.

This is my home.

I won’t see it lost.

If I’m to do anything
about this Emperor-damned mess,

I need to win over the masses.

Your executions will earn me
their favour.

But I will give you a choice.

Co-operate and your executions
will be swift and uncomplicated.

Choose to go against me

and your final moments in this universe

will be exceedingly unpleasant.

I was barely following
what Klore was saying...

but I was pretty sure he was right.

This mess was down to us.

And worse,
we’d done the same on other worlds.

We’d just never bothered
to stick around long enough

to take in the consequences.

It never ceases to amaze me.

What, that I’m stuck in another sh*thole
with only you as company?

At least keep the table between us.

You’re putting me off my drink.

Go on then. What?

The sheer amount of heresy
amongst the ruling elite of this sector.

Strange, don’t you think?

It’s like Bellona says.

Power corrupts.

Doesn’t it just.

These governors, they’re obsessed with it.

Wanting more and more control.

They can’t think of anything else.

And then...

That’s when the corruption creeps in.

That’s how it is, is it?

See it differently, do you?

I just think it’s interesting
how successful we are.

How we always find someone
who needs a b*llet in the head.

Funny.

If a soulless b*stard like you
doesn’t think we’re doing the right thing,

we almost certainly are.

Oh, sh*t.

The b*stard’s going to hang us out to dry.

You need to sort yourself out. Now.

And how exactly am I supposed to do that?

I don’t know.

Just find a way.

Whatever it takes.

Whatever it takes.

Would it work?

I had no idea.

But things could hardly get any worse.

Screw it.

I’d forgotten the first rule:

Things can always be worse.

sh*t.

What the--

Always more blood.