On the edge of the district lurked another predator, save one of a different nature. This one sought out the weak, the sick and corrupted, all of those who would see his society and message perverted with their mere presence. Thus came the Inquisitrix, Sommer Ehrt, a woman of resolved purpose and being, and one that looked with disdain on all whom the Verhör condemned.

This one was like the other; clad in a black uniform so fine, so fit to march in line, save she bore not the taint of the unclean. Psychics were no better than mutants or xenos in the butcher's eyes. Though she knew it not when she saw it from meters away, the one known as Adam Hoffen coming into conflict with one Corin Arnheim.

Curious this, but best to avoid conflict with his most holy subjects.

"A vague excuse," came Sommer's voice, wafting over the air with a tone to it so methodical that she must've seemed like little more than a junior-high arithmetic instructor, "that reveals little of the truth." Her interjection into their conversation might've been deemed out of place, but there was nothing that was not of her concern.

Nothing.

Little response was garnered by either party's quick and sharp salutes, the inquisitor remaining with her delicate hands clasped firmly behind her back, the black uniform of the LW peeking out from under the leather overcoat. For what she lacked in terms of facial beauty she surely made up for in form. Were there any product of the LW to challenge the Archduchess in body or mind it was Ehrt.

Though surely she lacked her fetching features.

"Sieg heil, genoßen." The obligatory reply came with little effort as her eyes flashed between the pair, the scarred panzer commander and the other odd fellow. She didn't like the feeling of him. Ehrt had suspicions about folk, especially around that hedonistic den run by that egocentric courtesan. Were it that she had a sense of humor, Sommer would offer a mental chuckle at her note of the woman as a yowling streetwalker.

"... if you could, Hauptsturmführer," the commander's rank was evident from his uniform, "secure our fellow comrade. I'm afraid he hasn't been dismissed."

Ehrt offered a slight smile, a glorified drawing of the lips, to Adam as he returned to their company, shooting the more brutish of the two a favorable glance once she had. She was happy that the other had returned so easily, were it that one could apply the adjective happy to such a severe individual, and that neither her nor the brute had to resort to his natural talents. Never a good day when she had to exercise her ability.

People always proved to be so messy when ruptured.

"Vielen dank, captain. I do appreciate it." She addressed Corin in her usual formal tone, turning her attention now to the more suspicious of the two. His inquiry came in a rather pathetic tone of voice, further feeding her concerns that this man might give in to heretical desires and thoughts. "... and you, Standartenführer, just who is it that you're after?"

Her head cocked a degree to the left at the question, her fair, frizzy hair tumbling slightly at the act. "I am an inquisitor, after all. I might be able to help."

Within those eyes lay something that Sommer recognized, as she saw it quite often in the ranks of her own charge. What she wasn't used to seeing was his body language, his unprofessionalism. Saddening was it that his training allowed him to get away with such a lousy excuse for demeanor. Her subordinates might share Adam's mentality, but they certainly knew how to keep it in check. How to put forth appearances.

"A toy?" Ehrt asked, curious as to just what Adam referred to, as if it were a person. Her mind caught on quickly, however, as she flicked her emerald eyes about his figure. "... I might know just the place to look, though I'm afraid I never caught your name." Oh yes, the perfect place. A good distraction like Adam might work to Sommer's advantage.

"Hauptsturmführer. I don't believe I caught yours either."

"An honor and a pleasure," replied the inquisitor, the woman taking her gloved hands from behind her back as she returned their salute this time, the jet shade of her gloves' leather matching that of her coat. "to the both of you. Sommer Ehrt, inquisitor of the Verhör, and I might have a task for the both of you, if you are up to it."

Yes, she mused, they both could be of assistance, if only for this one time. It might be better to approach in the visage of patrons than in their official capacity. Ehrt was sure that Devika had some sort of network laying about to let her know whenever any from the Verhör stepped within a mile of her establishment. Corin could provide the element that might keep such security at bay, even distract them with means other than what surely earned him his tin cravat.

As for Adam? Oh, Adam could surely put on a show, and a show Sommer would need, were she to get the answers she wanted. The Amarande was undoubtedly a haven for illicit actions, and thus far she had been foiled in every attempt to prove it by that damnable diva.

Noble or not, she would get what was coming to her.

With a nod did Sommer reply to the panzer commander, pleased to see how eager he was to set about a task that he yet knew so little of. Slowly did she return her hands to their previous position, brushing against the chilled leather as they were relocated, "But of course, though I might say," she paused, unsure how to put it without offending the man. "... that your existence alone proves a most practical tool. But, if you believe yourself ill-equipped, then by all means feel free to remedy the situation."

She too bore minimal armaments, a sidearm and dagger, though neither was visible to the man from where she stood now, in her relaxed position of parade rest. Casually did she offer forth a card, being a rather simple barcode, one that could be scanned easily on one's wrist implant. "... once you're done, find me."

"Bonesaw gives us the green."

The butcher smirked at the all-clear, hefting the sub-machine gun as she did, the twenty-odd LW commandos with her already eager to be thrown into their fray, their similarly onyx-clad frames crouching on the opposite side of the establishment from their Coalite cousins. The planet's security was a terrible shame, considering what one could smuggle in. "Good. Let's move."

The team sprung into deathly quiet action, muffled footsteps echoing in the alleys to Gambit's rear, the doors soon buckling with nary a sound, Sommer's tightly woven blonde hair leading the team, barely peeking out from under her balaclava. A quick nod and a cold glare gave the Coalition liaison all the information he needed, soon sending word to their fellow strike team that the time for action was nigh.

With a crash did the doors to the main antechamber open, Belkan troops charging to tackle the Admiral where she stood - leaping over table and chair alike. Several more had their weapons at the ready, though they had not yet fired. Over it all, Sommer's strained voice could be heard,

"We want the Sovrak bitch alive!"

Sommer Ehrt spat, first at the xeno's disgusting roar and second at the witch's sorcery. The woman already seethed with purpose, the creature's attempt to stagger the Belkans did cause a moment of hesitation before Sommer gave the order to slay the pathetic beast, a defiant finger being thrown at the creature as she bellowed, "I want to drink that beast's blood!" The scream was soon accompanied by the deafening staccato of eight mass-driving assault rifles, the Krohn 356s barking to life as they unleashed hundreds of rounds of fury at the beast who was fool enough to question the Emperor's will.

Such was the fate of all who suffered the sin of alien birth.

The soldier that had the misfortune of missing the admiral soon spun about, an inhuman glare to his eyes as he brought his own arm to bear, a round chambered. The Emperor would understand if she fell in a moment of passion... the blood lust did so drive his favored children. A burst escaped the rifle, though it was soon followed as he rose to his feet, charging the woman again.

One of the Belkan soldiers, an otherwise unremarkable man bearing only black clothing and an assault vest, dropped to the floor, the bolt of wizardry striking the man down. Of more concern was keeping the beast with the blade suppressed while the others moved to secure the admiral - they would deal with the sorcerer later, if they had the time. The fire continued to strike out at the beast, several of the troops dropping to a crouch or a knee, one or two actually decided to shift their fire to other, more prime targets of opportunity.

"Check your targets, our cousins have arrived!" Unlike the Coalition forces present, the Imperial troops made no move to pacify their ammunition; the depleted uranium slugs would be just as deadly as another other bullet in use by the major powers that be.

"Blood for our Belkan lord! Their souls are our chattel!"

The man who had sought to capture the admiral soon found himself obliterated by the automaton's immediate entrance, the other Belkans, free of their bestial target looking to this new one with eyes both eager and surprised. Only a moment had passed before the shout was raised and the survivors dropped to the floor, scrambling for cover behind overturned tables and in booths, Sommer included. "Combat mech!"

Two of the troops had the foresight to loose electro-pulse grenades at the device, though they certainly weren't expecting something so cybernetic. Even if the grenades were meant to stun a carbon-based being, they could disrupt electrical systems in a pinch. Those that threw the grenades suffered the device's wrath, however, 12mm rounds ripping through the bodies as the two flew back, one silent as the other screeched in pain, the Emperor not imparting the blessing to end her life with the strike.

"Suppressing fire! I want the heathen armor melted down for scrap!"

Three more Belkans fell at this, one to the admiral and another two to the beastman as he reemerged from the storeroom. Already did the Belkans shift their fire to the creature again, leaving the admiral and mech to their cousins. If this beast would be so stubborn, then it must die. The weapons roared back to life, looking to pepper the beast with a multitude of super-heated slugs. He couldn't deflect all of their rounds.

They weren't quick to emerge from their cover, however, several soon shook by the concussion and piercing force of the device's projectiles. The Aschen would not let up on them from their covered positions, but at least they were safer than standing about. The admiral's capture would be up to the Coalition.

Sommer Ehrt immediately recoiled, unsure of this new being, but feeling already its immense power simply from its presence. Already did she raise her weapon, though some part of her mind knew that firing upon it would be useless. He was beyond their power to control, much less destroy. No, the Admiral needed to be seized now, in the moment of opportunity!

... but it would be wise to wait and see if a better shot would present itself. Regardless, it would not do to anger this creature, whatever it may be. It certainly looked Belkan, and seethed with the same aura of power their Emperor did so possess.

Several Imperial anti-tank teams had set up in the surrounding hotels, far back enough in the rooms of mirrored glass that no flash would be seen as they struck whatever was unfortunate enough to be in their sights with their AT rifles, as the ground echelons moved into position to support the Coalition effort. They contributed their own vehicles of course - ramshackle IFVs and technicals fashioned from luxury SUVs and obscenely powerful pickup trucks. Gas prices were no obstacle of import to the forces of the proper God-Emperor.

Sommer was busy overseeing her zug from the street level when the comm-piece in her ear chirped in, the guttural tongue of the Hegemony's Belkan masters playing into her ear, "I've got a runner, tracking... fuck! Lost him in the building. Went to get something. Tell the Coalite whores to watch their asses." The plasma rifle made to punch through armor could deal with a human readily enough - the challenge was dealing with several, considering the three round magazine.

Still, Sommer noted the small development, her Imperial Kommandotruppe filtering into the side alley opposite the Coalition as they prepared to breach, ready to snatch whatever looked like a good prize inside. Gambit's was like a cracker jack box...

Never knew who was inside.