40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 699 81. Interlude: Workaholic (Part )

Khalil looked up and saw a row of hanging babies' bodies.

He was currently at the innermost end of an swelteringly hot processing workshop, with all kinds of tools scattered on the floor, the fire extinguished, and the thick armored door already wide open like a drunkard's clothes.

The workers stayed outside the door and talked in low voices. They didn't understand why an inquisitor would visit here, but they were smart. No, perhaps it shouldn't be called smart, but wise.

Only those who are used to doing things with their backs bent and their shoulders hunched have this wisdom. They are always the first to notice when a storm is coming, just like now.

Khalil took off his wide-brimmed hat, pinched the edge with his fingers, and raised his index finger slightly to touch the emblem of the Inquisition.

The young victims were naked, their skin swollen and pale, their blood drained, their internal organs emptied, their skulls pierced and hung with exquisite craftsmanship, hidden in a narrow and dark corner between machines, and then blocked with two boxes of spare parts and tool boxes.

It was a crude cover-up, but in a hot and busy place like a processing workshop, it was perfectly adequate.

Khalil's index finger began tapping the cap badge. Snap, snap, snap.

About seven or eight minutes later, the mute guard led a woman into the workshop, pressed a button and closed the door.

The woman was strong, with thick shoulders, and she wore a pale blue uniform that was not particularly clean. The insignia of the Steele Ellis First Steel Works gleamed silver on the right breast of her uniform.

This is a historic factory, which was announced by a man named Steele Ellis in Fort 175 in the middle of the 175th millennium. Today, it has become a behemoth, providing % of the tax revenue of Fort every year.

The woman brought here is the director of this workshop, named Nura Rita. She had served in the army in the past and was fortunately discharged with honor after completing her service. The Military Affairs Department assigned her to be the director of the workshop here based on her military merits, with a good salary and a separate residence.
"I, I don't understand, sir—"

Her voice began to echo in the workshop. All kinds of production machinery that were supposed to be running at high speed had stopped running, and the silence was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. Soon, her voice mixed with the footsteps of her and the mute guard, forming an uneasy drumbeat.

She kept talking to the mute guard, trying hard to prove her innocence and asking him why he had called her here, but the mute guard remained silent.

Snap, snap, snap.

Tapping his cap badge, Khalil looked down at the data pad in his hand.

He had dealt with twenty-six cases assigned to him by Malcador in the past twelve hours, most of them difficult, taking the first one, the demon lurking in the Brar family estate.

One of the prophets of the Inquisition saw the starport burning in a dream. After waking up, he immediately reported the matter and the investigation procedure was initiated.

However, in dozens of secret investigations, the two Inquisitors and more than thirty agents worked together to dig up the starport and turned it upside down, but still could not find any clues.

On the contrary, the prophet saw the statue of Abelard Brar in another dream. Thanks to him, the Inquisition was able to narrow down the scope to the Brar family.
However, the loyalty of this family is beyond doubt and cannot be questioned.

Three generations before Abelard Brar, each one joined the army and died for the country; three generations after him, although he became rich due to his military exploits, there was no prodigal son in such a large family. All children were trained to be soldiers from birth, and they immediately joined the army as soon as they reached the age, without exception.
In desperation, the matter had to be sealed and the level of alert and monitoring of the family was increased to be prepared for possible Chaos invasion at any time.

Of course, it's not that no one has suggested directly "cleaning up" the family, but doing so would be difficult to convince the public, and secondly, they are by no means rebels or evildoers, and the Inquisition has already confirmed this time and again.

Over time, this matter has become a time bomb. Everyone knows that it will explode one day, but there is no way to resolve it in advance.

Although Khalil solved it very quickly, it was his way and he couldn't expect others to do the same.
The mute guard finally came to him with Nura Rita.

The latter was speechless at this moment, but her identity as a veteran allowed her to maintain a little calmness and rationality, preventing her from trembling and falling to the ground.

For any normal person, seeing such a scene with one's own eyes would be a huge shock, not to mention that she is the director of this workshop and safety issues are her responsibility.

Khalil turned his head to look at her, immediately grasped the crux of the problem, and then gave the order in a deep voice: "Stand at attention, soldiers!"

Nura Rita subconsciously straightened her back and clashed her heels.

"Tell me, soldier, who did this station belong to?"

Noura Rita took a deep breath to make herself fully awake, and then immediately answered the question: "Duknar, sir, he recently took sick leave."

"how many days?"

"It's been four days."

"Four days, very good." Khalil said thoughtfully. "Thank you for your help, Director Noura Rita, you can leave now."

"W-what? Is that all?" she asked in disbelief.

"Yes." Khalil nodded at her. "I know you want to tell me more information, such as where he lives, what his hobbies are, what he did in the past, what his personality is like, etc. But I don't need to know these things, I just need a name."

He smiled a dark smile that made the retired soldier shudder. The mute guard raised his hand at the right time, pressed her shoulder, and turned away with her, while Khalil was still smiling.

Several little ghosts were reflected in his eyes. In a world invisible to ordinary people, they were surrounding him, with curious faces.

They are not wronged ghosts. They are too young. They have no hatred in their hearts, and they don’t know what it feels like to be wronged. They don’t even know that they are dead.

Khalil temporarily hid the gloom in his smile and waved to them gently: "Come on, I'll take you home."

The door of the workshop slowly opened, he took out the bodies of the babies, took out a box, put them in it and took them away.

Thirty minutes later, he found Duknar, also known as the Baby Eater, who was completely unaware of his arrival in a small hotel in the infamous fourth-to-last floor of Fortress 175, the 'City of Chaos'.

Forty-six years ago, he committed a number of murders at Fortress 132, escaped the pursuit of the local Law Department and disappeared completely. Logically, this matter should not be reported to the Inquisition, but an investigator from the Law Department accidentally discovered in the follow-up investigation of the case that the Baby Eater was probably not an ordinary person.

He tried to convince his superiors to give him the power to investigate the matter, but not everyone was as persistent as he was. The investigator eventually died of depression, with his home filled with investigation reports on the bloody case, evidence of crimes he had collected through illegal investigations, and a huge map of speculation about the true identity of the Baby Eater.
His new boss was shocked when he learned about this, because according to these speculations, the investigator's guess was true, and the baby eater was definitely not an ordinary person. In other words, he was a traitor lurking in the material world and had changed his life form through sacrifice - and he was in the solar system.

This was intolerable, so he was immediately put on the wanted list of the Tribunal.

As of now, he is screaming.

The dirty hotel room walls were covered with tattered black wallpaper. It might have been in other colors in the past, but the long time and the guests who came and went would not care about it. Oil, vomit, alcohol, urine and even blood were all on it, mixed together to form an unspeakable nightmare. The ground was solid cement, full of potholes.

Dim light emanated from a bulb located to the right of the ceiling fan, barely illuminating half of the room.

A man was kneeling at the edge of the light, his chest wide open but no internal organs visible inside. There were only many small skulls covered with broken flesh and blood, which made people feel indescribable anger.

"Normally, I should say something to people like you, but I think they are more qualified to do so."

As he screamed, Khalil took two steps back and reached out to turn off the light.

The Baby Eater was still screaming, full of fear and pain. Khalil turned around, blocking him, and walked to the door with the box in his arms.

A few drunks were singing in a distorted voice downstairs, but the corridor was quiet. Faint footsteps could be heard coming from the stairs ten meters away.

Khalil bowed his head, smiled at the babies' souls, and hummed a gentle song.

And the Babyeaters no longer scream.

In the darkness, many people were tearing at his flesh and soul. There were ragged men, women with grief on their faces, and an investigator who was emaciated and had sunken eyes.

He took off his hat and nodded to Khalil, who smiled in response.
-
"It seems that I should assign you more tasks, Caryl Rohals."

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The communicator lit up slightly, bringing a familiar voice to Khalil's ears. The person on the other end seemed to have his own things to do, and the rustling sound of the pen tip rubbing against the paper continued to come.

Khalil replied without even raising his eyes: "It's up to you. I still have four days to work - of course, after the four days, when Leon's affairs are dealt with, I can work all year round."

"You seem quite passionate about this?"

“Of course I’ll be enthusiastic.”

The sound of writing on the other end of the communicator suddenly stopped, and then the person began to discuss the topic in more depth.

"People have always needed wild men with clubs to kill beasts of the night. That has never changed. But these are not the times you are used to. Now, people fear you, and even hate you, for the violence you use to protect them."

"what do you want to say?"

“I want to say that you are so passionate about doing this work because you see the possibility of making the world a better place. I don’t deny that your actions today have indeed enabled many people to rest in peace for the rest of their lives, but your humanity now is just a small flame. I hope you will keep it and do other more important things.”

Khalil shook his head and threw the communicator to the mute guard, who took it in a panic, and even used one hand to grab the support rod on the wall to maintain balance during the sudden turbulence of the shuttle, with a rare look of being at a loss.

"Did he throw away the communicator, Soul?"

The mute guard nodded, and then belatedly realized that the communicator in his hand could only transmit each other's voices, so he had to tap his fingers and make some noise to respond.

"Take the communicator away from my poor squire and leave him alone, Caryl Rohals. And I haven't finished what I'm saying yet."

Khalil walked back quickly, picked up the communicator, smiled apologetically at the mute guard, and then threw the communicator into his arms.

I'm not giving you a hard time, he mouthed. I'm giving him a hard time.

The confusion on the latter's face gradually turned into astonishment.

"Did he throw it again?" asked the person on the other end of the communicator.

The mute guard stomped his feet vigorously.

"Okay, let me put it this way - listen, I need you to put aside what you are doing for a while."

"Why?" Khalil asked sincerely. "You can't deprive me of my right to work. No work, no food. I want to drink some kumis for you."

"."

"Why are you silent, old friend?"

".Because a fleet will arrive at the edge of the solar system within six hours, I need you to be present at the welcoming ceremony, to represent me, and then do some follow-up overall planning work."

"Isn't this a matter for the political department?"

The person on the other end of the communicator sneered, his tone becoming extremely impatient: "Yes, but why do you think you are not part of politics? You have to know that there are more than just Blood Angels and Ultramarines in this fleet."

Khalil sighed.

"Why are you sighing?"

"Nothing, respected Master."

"Damn it, Caryl Rohals!" The Sigillite could no longer hold back and finally roared. "You really want me to make it clear, don't you?!"

"No, no, how dare I be so bold"

"Damn it! I tell you, I know why you're messing around with me here - you don't want to meet Yago Sevitarion right away, do you?!"

"That's not true at all," Khalil replied quickly. "How could I avoid Yago and deliberately avoid him? If it happened again, he would definitely go crazy."

"You really have self-awareness. Then you go over there and take in those veterans as the Grand Inquisitor, giving them a politically legitimate opportunity to return to the empire!"

"As you command, Master Seal-Bearer," said the Grand Inquisitor very obediently.

(End of this chapter)