A/N: Enter into the Devil's Lair, soon. I was sick yesterday so no upload. Now feeling a bit better, still on meds though. Doctor prescribed me a healthy dose of reviews and STONES. YOU DOGS, THROW SOME STONES.
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[Workshop, Thieves Landing]
Ether hissed through exposed piping as Fallen mechanics barked instructions at each other while two bulky droids stomped through the chaos carrying heavy crates and moving around equipment.
In the middle of it all, Pahanin laid sprawled over on an old leather couch. One leg draped over the side and one arm rested behind his head. Now, he looked like he had long given up on the concept of responsibility.
Just then, the gates hissed open.
Void stepped inside the workshop, looking around as he spotted two droids on the workshop's floor. His eyes widened in surprise, but then as he saw the couch, Void paused.
He blinked.
"...Pahanin?"
Without lifting his head, Pahanin lazily opened one eye. The lights in the shop flickered as his hazy vision cleared up and he spotted Void.
"You."
Void raised a brow. "Me?"
"You absolute bastard," Pahanin snapped, suddenly lurching up like he'd been struck by lightning.
"Do you have any idea how many new lights showed up this week?! How many?!" He held up both hands and flailed them. "All of them! They all came! They don't even listen to a word I say. All they do is dance and scream 'Loot!' like feral children!"
Void stood still.
"First I made them guns. I talk about how to use them. But they don't care. Once they take the guns, all they do is run around the workshop!"
Void gave a slow shrug. "Sounds like you're adjusting well."
"I had to build two droids from scratch just so I wouldn't burn this place to the ground." Pahanin pointed toward the two clanking machines as they passed by, ignoring everything.
"And now I get to sit here and finally, take a well deserved break." Pahanin nestled himself back into the soft couch cushions.
"See? You figured out, so it wasn't that bad." Void chuckled.
"Wasn't that bad?" Pahanin's eyes snapped open as he clutched his chest. "I'm gonna die here. In this couch, and even then you'd probably revive me to get more weapon designs!"
Void sighed, "Right. How's the production going?"
"Production's going fine," Pahanin grumbled without opening his eyes. He waved a hand toward the corner of the room where a small assembly line had been rigged with Fallen workers tinkering on weapon frames.
"I can handle most of the orders. For now."
Void smiled.
"Good. Good. Because, if you're finally free..." he reached into his cloak.
Pahanin brows twitched. His centuries of instinct as a hunter was flaring wildly. Right now, he was in grave danger! Pahanin jolted up right, preparing to dart away. But before he could even think of it, Void swiftly grabbed him by the shoulder.
Void pulled out a mangled piece of tech—an ether-core jetpack stripped from Nulsis's armor—"you can help me with this."
Pahanin's eyes popped open. His body didn't move, but his soul visibly deflated.
"You. Are. A monster."
Void dropped the pack onto the table with a metallic thunk.
"I need a full analysis. Figure out the fuel type, the ether intake system, how it's routed, how it works, everything. If we can reverse engineer the propulsion, we might be able to scale it."
Pahanin cursed. Loudly. And inventively. But after a few seconds of glaring, he relented, pulled the tech over, and muttered.
"Fine. Whatever. Work me to the bone why don't you? Better yet, just keep reviving me after I give up."
Void took a seat on the edge of the couch as he hung his head back, "Relax. You won't take long."
"Easy for you to say, all you do is boss me around." Pahanin muttered.
"Ah, I almost forgot." Void chuckled, "City's got a new network. Stronger than before. Clean signal lines."
Pahanin gave a hum, not looking up as he examined the tech's casing. "So, how does that affect us?"
Void raised a brow. "Does it not? If the City's about to do something, then that means the New Lights are involved. Which means-"
Pahanin paused, anxiously raising a brow. "Which means....you want more weapons?"
Void didn't answer immediately. His fingers drummed once on the bench. Then twice more.
"I was thinking something more unique this time."
"Thank god." Pahanin heaved a sigh of relief.
"How about a special weapon shader? A striking one." Void smiled.
Pahanin's ears perked up, he'd always been more interested in tweaking the shaders and colors of the weapons. "What're you thinking?"
"Let's see. If what we're thinking is right, then the City's most likely target is-"
"The House of Devils." Pahanin nodded swiftly.
Void agreed, "How about an inverted scheme? Make it a bit symbolic. White frame and red outlines."
"You...Not bad. I guess you're artistic side is there after all." Pahanin chuckled as he imagined his design coming to life, but then, his gaze narrowed slightly.
"You're planning something. Aren't you?" He glanced at Void, "There's no way you're keeping all these tabs for just the workshop."
Void offered a faint, knowing smile. "I don't think there'll be a better opportunity. Let's just say, If the whole system's watching the City... no one's watching me."
-
[House of Winter, Venus]
Thick, sulfuric clouds clung to the planet's golden horizon, casting a hazy glow over the jagged cliffs of the Ishtar Sink.
Right now, the the House of Winter was abuzz with static-laced transmissions. The comms chamber flickered with old Fallen tech, rusted consoles blinking erratically, overloaded from the sudden influx of messages.
One by one, signals from the House of Devils came in.
Demanding answers and requesting clarity for what had happened with Nulsis.
But the Kell of Winters barely spared it a glance.
He stood atop the high platform overlooking the central chamber, his long cloak of cerulean silk trailing behind him. His mandibles clicked once in irritation as he turned away.
"Silence them," he said coldly.
The nearby Vandal technician hesitated for half a second. "Kell... the Devils—"
"Do it." the Kell growled as he stepped closer to the edge of a platform.
The signal was severed with a single motion, and the screen blinked off.
Several captains and Splicers lingered below the platform, watching with faint unease. They knew the Kell well enough to recognize when he had set his focus.
And today, it wasn't on the Devils.
The Kell turned his attention to a Splicer team gathered near a holographic projection of the Ishtar Academy ruins. The blue projection pulsed faintly, highlighting a section beneath the known structure—an ancient cavity lined with shattered metal walls and unexplored tunnels.
"How close are we?" the Kell asked.
One of the Splicers, a multi-eyed Eliksni, bowed his head and replied. "Still far. Sensors indicate a possible sealed archive chamber. Deep beneath the surface. Old Golden Age tech—intact."
The Kell's eyes glowed faintly behind his helmet.
"Then dig faster," he said. "I want a full team down there. No distractions."
He pointed to the excavation schematics. The ground beneath the Ishtar ruins had been scanned repeatedly over the past month, ever since the House of Winter had accidentally dug into the Ishtar Academy, they knew something was down there. Something ancient.
The Kell stepped forward, peering closer at the map.
"Cryptarch technology," he muttered. "Pre-Collapse. Left untouched."
The Splicer nodded. "If intact... this technology would put us centuries ahead of everyone else."
The Kell's voice deepened. "Then it's worth more than any alliance. More than any petty quarrel with the Devils."
He turned his head back toward the still-silent communication screen. The Devils could scream all they wanted about Nulsis. Let them. Let them claw and rage about failure.
Because while they bickered over a lost courier, Winter was about to unearth something that could rewrite the rules.
"Focus your teams on breaching the lower vault," the Kell commanded. "If the archive holds what I think it does... we won't need the Devils. We won't need any of them."
The Splicers clicked in unison, obeying without question. Across the base, drills roared to life. Ether lines pumped harder through the network, feeding their machines. Winter's engineers scrambled to deploy new sensor nodes and mapping rigs across the Ishtar cliffs.
The hunt for the archive had begun.
As the Kell turned and walked back toward his throne chamber, a faint, knowing smirk crossed his features—barely visible beneath his helmet.
Let the others fight. Let the City chase skirmishes and war games. House of Winter would rise differently.
Not with armies. But with knowledge. And when the world looked to them again, they'd already be too late.
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A/N: Thank you for reading! Read ahead on my Patre*n!
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