That night, the uppermost floor of Central Hive, known as Avarax, buzzed with an uneasy tension. The day's assassination of the Inquisitor had plunged the entire Hive City into a state of panic. This was no ordinary casualty; an Inquisitor wielded the power to declare Exterminatus, an authority even greater than that of a Planetary Governor. Yet, an unknown Tyranid alien had unceremoniously ended his life, discarding him like a tattered rag.
In response, the temporary command post established by Roboute Guilliman made an immediate decision: reallocate all available defensive forces from the Underhive to fully garrison the Hive City's top levels. Unfortunately, these were merely mortal guards, and even equipped with the most elite gear, they couldn't prevent Marcus's infiltration.
Marcus scaled the outer wall of a towering spire, his movements a blur. With just a few swift maneuvers, he bypassed the omnipresent surveillance cherubs and the patrolling guards, effortlessly slipping into a lavish room. His psionic senses swept the space, confirming a single life signature within. According to the intelligence Marcus had gathered through his Psychic Contract over the preceding days, this was the personal chamber of Avarax's Planetary Governor.
Thanks to Roboute Guilliman, the Governor's family's influence on Avarax had already waned considerably. This was now an era of a delicate three-way standoff between the Adeptus Mechanicus, the Ecclesiarchy, and the entrenched noble families. The Governor himself had few personal guards remaining.
The plan unfolded smoothly. The elderly Governor, having just concluded a lavish banquet and on the verge of deep slumber, was abruptly yanked upright by Marcus, who was cloaked in a Predator mask. Choking, struggling for breath, the Governor's eyes widened with terror.
"You, who are you?" he gasped.
"Now, you will do as I say," Marcus's voice was cold and measured. Simultaneously, several of his psychic flying knives subtly pricked the Governor's skin, just beneath the surface. "First, remove all the alarm triggers on your body. You wouldn't want to experience being cut into a thousand pieces, would you, esteemed Governor?"
As he spoke, the psychic blades began to trace paths over various parts of the Governor's body. With trembling hands, the Governor complied, removing over a dozen concealed alarm triggers from his person, just as Marcus had instructed.
"Very good," Marcus nodded with satisfaction. If his target had been a member of the Adeptus Mechanicus or one of the Ecclesiarchy zealots, such a direct threat might not have been as effective. But confronting an aging, cowardly noble Governor simplified things considerably.
Immediately afterward, Marcus drafted an imposing contract and compelled the Governor to sign it. Once all was done, Marcus finally released the Governor. Bound by the Psychic Contract, the Governor was now entirely under Marcus's control.
"Now, gather all members of your family, right here," Marcus commanded casually. After signing the contract, the Governor fully understood the repercussions of disobedience. He could only comply, all the while secretly pondering the identity of the masked figure before him. "Officio Assassinorum? The Inquisition? Or some other clandestine Imperial organization? Perhaps even a servant of aliens or Chaos?" One terrifying possibility after another raced through the Governor's mind.
Half an hour later, over a hundred nobles of the Governor's direct lineage had assembled in the room. Furthermore, at the Governor's personal directive, not a single guard remained, and all alarm devices and recording instruments typically carried by these nobles had been left outside.
"My lord, why have you called us here so late—" a noble began, glancing at the Governor, who was now slumped on the bed.
"Is everyone here?" Marcus's voice resonated in the Governor's ear. The Governor nodded.
Satisfied, Marcus wasted no more time. Following the same procedure, he began to sign Psychic Contracts with each of the Hive City nobles present. Due to the sheer number of individuals, the process was somewhat protracted. During this time, one noble, seemingly consumed by a death wish, attempted to bolt from the room. Marcus's Psychic Flying Knife instantly impaled him through the heart.
"I told you, I bear no ill will towards any of you present," Marcus's voice echoed, cold and clear for all to hear. "As long as you sign the contract, you may leave now." After taking the necessary time to secure contracts from the remaining individuals, Marcus, from behind his mask, waved his hand, signaling their dismissal. Bound by the Psychic Contract, there was no chance these nobles would reveal what they had just witnessed.
In just a few short hours, utilizing the potent Psychic Contract, Marcus had seized control of the Governor's noble faction, a group that had been entrenched on Avarax for millennia. His next objective was to gradually bring the system's other two dominant forces—the Ecclesiarchy and the Adeptus Mechanicus—into his fold.
The Adeptus Mechanicus seemed the easier target; those individuals were consumed by their research and archaeological excavations. Marcus believed that by presenting them with some technological artifacts, he could readily establish good relations. The only true headache was the Ecclesiarchy. As the religious authority spreading the Emperor's gospel to the Hive City populace, their prestige and power even surpassed that of the noble faction.
"Let's take it slow first," Marcus mused, turning his gaze to the Planetary Governor still lying on the bed. "How much longer until the Departmento Munitorum collects Avarax's Tithes?"
"Not long ago, when the great Gene-Seed Primarch personally led his army, the Tithes were already collected," the Planetary Governor replied, naturally well-informed on such matters. "There are still fifty years until the next collection."
Upon hearing the answer, Marcus nodded. The Recidious Star System was already a remote location, and with the Tithes recently collected, the Imperium might well forget about this place for the next few decades. This was unequivocally beneficial for Marcus, allowing him to evade the Imperium's watchful eye and quietly develop his forces.
After issuing a few final instructions to the Planetary Governor, Marcus vanished from the room, opened his system panel, and reappeared on the Ishimura in the Resident Evil world. He immediately summoned Jacob and the others, inquiring about the training progress of the thirty individuals from the United Government.
"Not bad, those people have strong learning abilities," Jacob reported.
"Mm," Marcus acknowledged, then stated, "I need you to make some modifications to the Ishimura."
"What modifications?" Jacob asked.
"Increase the number of ADS cannons on the Ishimura, and also thicken the armor..." Marcus pulled out a handbook he had already prepared and handed it to Jacob. To survive the perils of the Warhammer universe, the Ishimura required extensive upgrades. Currently, its firepower and defensive capabilities were woefully inadequate.
After reviewing the modification plan, Jacob looked up. "The plan is feasible, but we are too short-handed, and the modification time will be very long."
"It's fine," Marcus waved his hand dismissively. "Just increase cooperation with the United Government and have them send more people to the ship."
Jacob nodded in understanding, then exited the captain's quarters.