Four sets of footsteps echoed through the empty, halogen lit hallways. Slightly out of step, the footsteps and the distance between those creating them on flickering static ridden security camera vision left a casual observer with the distinct impression that the four were strangers, and nervous strangers at that. Of course, deep within the bowels of the Inquisition’s headquarters in the government district of Hive Sibellus, there were no casual observers, nor would any ever be likely.
Jethro briefly glanced up at the blinking red light beneath the security camera lens as the camera turned to follow the progress of the group he had just met. While the Guardsman could only imagine they had common purpose in service of the Emperor, that purpose had yet to be revealed and frankly he was skeptical. His own footsteps were measured, clipped and rythmical, his hands moving in opposing time with his strides as he purposefully marched down the corridor.
Antonidas revelled in their mechanical surroundings, feeling more at home entombed in this winding labyrinth of steel than he would in any city, including this, the place of his birth. What was left of the human part of the intertwining mesh of tissue and circuitry that formed his brain found no small amusement at the fact that the group walked only a few miles away from the Upper Hive where he had been born into great privelege – illusory privelege, of course, the fleeting privelege of the flesh.
Kharn scowled up at the security cameras in passing, each in turn as he noticed them, and from the way his broad shoulders hunched and his fists unconsciously clenched and unclenched, his discomfort was plain.
Red followed behind, less discomfited by the sterile, mechanical surroundings than the unerring stare of the security cameras as they moved forward. Trailing slightly behind the rest of the group, he tried in vain to keep to the shadows and evade their burning, unblinking red eye beneath the lens.