The Emperor’s Angel of Death

In a closed room, there was a simple table and a simple chair. A well-dressed man sat on the chair. His black suit and slicked-back black hair made him look very serious. The walls and floor around him were a monotonous light gray, making him look like a lonely character in a black and white photograph. The only light came from a small desk lamp on the table, and there was another chair opposite him, but it was empty.

The man's feet were shackled to the chair, and his hands were also handcuffed, but he was still calmly flipping through a booklet of the Ecclesiarchy, a miniature version of the Scriptures, most commonly found in hive cities.

Suddenly, a metal door rose, briefly revealing light that illuminated the man's pale, beardless face and light blue eyes, but the light quickly disappeared.

A new figure appeared in the room, a servo-skull floating on his shoulder.

"Kirk Eisenhauer, we meet again."

The man put down the booklet in his hand and turned his head with a smile.

"Good afternoon, Gabriel McGuire, First Class Enforcer."

The Enforcer, wearing a Department of Law and Justice uniform, stepped out of the shadows, also with a smile, a smile of victory.

"I hope these three hours haven't been too boring for you. After all, it took a lot of effort to get you here. Your little pups have been loitering around the Department of Law and Justice fortress. I might just walk out the door now, and bang—"

The Enforcer made a gesture at his head.

"A bullet will pierce my skull."

"My friends are just concerned about me. They are all law-abiding citizens."

"It's disgusting to hear those words coming from your mouth."

Gabriel clicked his tongue, walked to the table, then pressed half his butt on the table, looking down at the other man with his arms crossed.

"Kirk, the only reason you haven't been subjected to any torture yet is because I want you to confess all your criminal records and the evidence of your superiors while you are still sober. As the regional executive of the Gray Fox Group, I believe you are more aware of our methods than those gang scum."

"Enforcer, I don't know what you're talking about. Like last time, I'm just a humble freight merchant. Our business is just to assist companies that need logistics services."

The Enforcer sneered and took out a stack of photos from his pocket and threw them on the table. They were all pictures of brightly lit large bars, with many heavily armed, strangely shaped people entering and leaving the bars.

"Then what about these large bars in the mid-hive, lower-hive, and under-hive?"

"Opening bars is just a personal hobby of mine."

"Is it also your hobby to receive these extremely violent groups and let them leave with a large pile of weapons?"

The man glanced at the photos and shook his head.

"We can't choose our customers when we open the door for business. As for the weapons you mentioned, I've never heard of them."

"Alright, alright, I'm tired of hearing your nonsense."

With that, the Enforcer waved at the servo-skull. Soon, the door opened, and two officers carried in a large box and opened it.

Gabriel moved his butt off the table, walked to the box, reached into the box, and took out a pistol, a brand new laspistol. The Enforcer held it in his hand, carefully examining the weapon, and then turned to the detained man.

"Do you recognize this thing?"

The man glanced at it from a distance, then looked at the Enforcer and shrugged.

"Officer, I am very afraid of violence. I even faint at the sight of blood. I don't even dare to hold a knife. How would I recognize a pistol?"

"Is that so?"

Gabriel signaled the two officers to leave while placing the pistol on the small table.

"See here?"

He pointed to a piece of metal at the top of the pistol grip that had obvious discoloration.

"This is where military weapons usually have serial numbers and manufacturer's markings imprinted. Now these markings have been burned off with acid, but I can still tell you its model, a Cartrell MG 'Defender' type, the standard sidearm for Cadian Shock Trooper sergeants and officers. It has three firing modes, a lightweight body, and powerful firepower, a standard military weapon. Just a week ago, in the mudflats of Rust Harbor, a group of thugs broke into a store selling insect protein food, killing 31 people, including the owner! They didn't even spare the children! Just because this small store affected their sales of overpriced military rations from unknown sources! And their leader used this type of pistol!"

The man then clasped his hands to his chest and muttered to himself:

"Oh, what a terrible tragedy."

"Stop pretending!"

The Enforcer slapped the man in the face, directly leaving a red mark on half of his face.

"How did these brand new military weapons flow into the hive? You know better than anyone, because they entered the hands of those under-hive scum, thugs, and lunatics through your ships, your containers, and your distribution points!"

"Officer, I don't know anything about what you're saying."

The man said, raising his hands as if to surrender.

"Perhaps someone is trying to frame innocent merchants like us."

"Frame? This was unloaded from your shuttle! I really didn't expect that there would be a criminal with a face thicker than a battleship's armor like you, who can still stubbornly deny it even with the evidence in hand? I heard that you graduated from the Department of Internal Affairs' Internal Affairs Academy. Why didn't you want to be a good servant of the Emperor and insisted on doing this harmful thing!"

The man named Kirk chuckled after hearing this, looked up straight into the Enforcer's eyes, and replied calmly:

"Officer, even if these things really came from our containers, whose fault do you think it is that weapons flow into the hive?"

The Enforcer narrowed his eyes.

"What? Are you still trying to justify yourself? Make excuses?"

"Officer, I grew up in the lower-hive, perhaps I know more about these things than you do. Almost everyone there has weapons, and they all need weapons. What do you think is the reason?"

Gabriel slammed his fist on the table.

"Don't beat around the bush!"

"You don't want to answer, or are you afraid to answer? Then how many times have you personally driven to the lower-hive for patrol? How many strongholds and arbitrators does the Department of Law and Justice, which should protect all citizens, have in the lower-hive? None, not a single one. That's the truth. The law you are protecting does not exist in the lower-hive and under-hive. Did people abandon the law? No, the law abandoned them, so they can only protect themselves, they can only try their best to protect themselves, including the under-hive scum you mentioned. I believe you are a righteous officer, and you are young and promising. You became a First Class Enforcer at the age of 29, and your future is bound to be limitless, but every time you swing your shock baton, have you ever asked yourself why?"

The other party did not say a single insulting word, but every sentence stung Gabriel's heart, like a large stain suddenly splattered on a flawless piece of glass.