Just when I think that it could not get any worse, it does. Explosively at that. What was worse was that it still smelled of cooked food; there was no pervading smell of rot in the air like the poxwalkers held; instead, it was almost alluring.
While I froze at the sight, Girlie, on the other hand, was already drawing her weapon from somewhere in the mass of belts and rags she called clothes.
At her quick action, I rapidly built up my strength, no need for control this time, and with a swipe of my hand, the man's body went tumbling ass over end along the warmers, scattering the various foodstuffs across the cafeteria floor.
The food, still mouthwatering as ever, contrasted against the large maggots, small larvae, and writhing creatures hiding at the bottom of the pans and tubs of food, now free and squirming in glee at the sight of the 'Vics, dragging and wiggling their way across the floor in large teeming masses.
"Don't just stand there, frakheads! Crush the damn things!" I yell at the stunned men and women.
A few of the more hardened hivers quickly regained their wits and began kicking, stomping, and beating back the groupings of bugs, while a few men grabbed nearby cafeteria trays to scoop and fling away the larger clumps of creatures.
This was less of a coordinated fight like before and more of a worried, revolted attempt to keep the creatures back. The squirming, clicking flood evoked a primal fear in the hearts of every man and woman in the room.
Of which, even the Enforcers were not immune to.
Rather than pushing an offensive or rallying the 'Vics, Manny had hopped onto one of the tables and desperately swatted at whatever came close to him while Allicent used her shield in the same manner as the smarter 'Vics, scooping and throwing the bugs anywhere that was not at her feet.
The duo kept near the entrance, keeping Mulroy safe as he yelled out nonsensical orders, still too frazzled to be of any use.
Oh, this is so fucked. Murdok's gonna kill us if the old bastard dies on our watch.
With another wave of my hand, hundreds of the insects were dead, the maggots splattering across the floor as they popped, halving the once enormous force.
At least now Mulroy and the Enforcers are free to act, sending me grateful nods as they grab Mulroy's cart and rush over to the kitchens beside me.
But the grouping I had killed was only the furthest from the 'Vics. If I had tried that near them, I know for a fact that a few of our men would be a mess of broken bones and screaming bodies.
Best to let them deal with those buggers. Don't want Murdok thinking I can't control myself.
It was our first casualty that I noticed something was not right with the creatures… besides the obvious, that is. Bugs and maggots this size would have already been boiled, mashed, or grilled to feed the populace, after all. These creatures were anything but natural to Atoma.
If I was not sure before, I sure as hell knew now that these creatures were warped by the rot in some way or created from the Empyrean itself, just another vile creation of the Sickly One.
A group of bugs, scooped up and thrown by Allicent, landed on the heads of a few of the men, and all but one managed to throw them off before crushing them beneath their boots.
Opening his mouth to scream, the creatures quickly began their descent into his mouth, cutting off his cry for help, and as he fell, he doomed himself to be smothered under the writhing, chittering mass.
The cafeteria stopped in horror as the bugs' offensive stopped once they had found a vulnerable meatsack to infest. The poor man's mouth was wide open and distended from the sheer number of bugs making their home inside of him.
His armor's buckles and belts strained as maggots and smaller bugs began to show through his pale, pallid skin; his body filled to the brim, and with a last, choking gasp, he lay still.
The poor bastard's eyes were still frantically looking back and forth, fear plain on his face as he twitched, but he was no longer able to control his body, the bugs having already eaten through his spinal cord as evidenced by the growing hump on his back.
Underneath his skin, we could see the damned things still moving and squirming away, as they burrowed their way through his muscles and organs to better nestle inside of him. His body's warmth providing the perfect temperature to reside in.
The damned bugs were not out to kill us, no, that would be too clean; they want to use us as a foundation, as mobile carriers of their newborn hives.
Once the man was dead, the bugs were back on the offensive, rushing at us with a renewed vigor, eager to make us their new breeding grounds.
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see that Girlie has already joined back up with Prick and his bodyguard. Suckup, having tossed the two kids atop a shelf, threw off his shirt and started to slap away the tinier bugs crawling along his torso; their jagged pincers and piercing claw-like feet had dug into the man.
His torso looked like someone had taken hundreds of needles to his body, tiny droplets of blood running down from his wounds. The larvae, all too excited, were crawling over one another to drink up and roll in the puddle of blood beneath his feet.
"Do something, freak!" came the screeching cry of the Suckup, kicking the insects in my direction as he scrambled up onto a table, pulling up another 'Vic along with him.
Well, at least they're helping each other.
Tapping my fingers against my thigh in an aggravated motion, I once more began to gather my strength. Taking a deep breath and with an exertion of my will, I lifted an unoccupied table into the air, and with another motion, I sent the table downwards toward another large mass of bugs and maggots.
The table hit the floor in an awful ringing of metal, and the following screech of metal on rockcrete made everyone cover their ears, grimacing at the ear-piercing sound.
With that single action, I left a streak of gore, chiton, and strips of maggot-flesh smeared across the cafeteria floor. Still, the swarm of insects continued onward, with each subsequent scrape of the table shearing away bits of metal and rockcrete until eventually they began to peter out, vanishing into the torn flooring and various nooks and crannies of the cafeteria.
Looking back and forth across the room, I quickly address the 'Vics. "Check each other over. Now!" I yell at them, stripping down and wringing out my shirt and pants, bits of shell, numerous legs, and chiton falling from my clothes, the same going for my boots.
Gonna have to clean those later.
Slowly, they separated into their own groups before doing the same; like many hivers, shame was not something we held for long. Down on the lower levels, where almost every vice was obtainable, you grew used to seeing working girls, dead bodies, and flesh of every kind for sale... whether that be for pleasure or to fill your belly.
A squeal of pain came from one of the men. Looking over, I saw a woman wiping him down, and as she brushed away more of the bug bits, I could clearly see the outline of one of the creatures beneath his skin.
"Sanitize and get the frakkin' thing outta him!" I tell the woman, nodding at the two Enforcers to help, the two already putting their armor and holsters back on, most likely used to helping one another put on and take off their uniforms and flak.
"Hold him down or put him down if you need to." I hiss at the Enforcers, "Don't take any chances." I ordered the two, turning away and making sure that Mulroy was not about to become a hive for the insects, as the two other 'Vics had.
With a brief extension of my senses, I could tell he was alright, maybe even a little better than the last time we checked him over, his lungs already showing signs of scabbing over.
"Barley! You're back on babysitting duty!" I yell at the man who had returned to shoving commissary goods into his now-close-to-bursting bag.
With a whine of protest, he stops nibbling at the ration bar in his mouth before grumbling and wheeling off Mulroy into the back to continue loading the pallet.
Looking back at the 'Vics, I see a few already cautiously moving towards the two fallen men, weapons at the ready and eyes flinting between the dead and the cracks in the floor in which the creatures escaped.
No survival instincts, those ones.
With a much gentler nudge of my powers, I push them back, startling the trio of men who yelped and jumped back with all the speed they could muster as adrenaline once more flooded their systems.
Their beady, bloodshot eyes quickly turned to me, fear and aggression showing through before I put up my hand and wiggled my fingers in their direction.
"Don't touch the damned meatsacks you frakheads!" I shout at them, "Emperor above, boys, how'd any of you live this long? Huh!?" making a shooing motion, I step forward to get a closer look at the two.
A look of bliss and serenity was on the first man's face, still chewing at the maggots in his mouth and making grasping motions for more. His stomach bulged as he simply lay there, content and unmoving.
The other man, however, was dead as could be; not even a muscle spasm at this point, his skin still distended in odd directions as the bugs inside of him moved this way and that.
Christ.
Lightly picking up the two bodies, I made sure to keep a fine control before laying them down as far away as possible from myself and our men. As I set them down, the content-looking one moved, and I damn near sent them both flying. But all he did was curl up next to the dead body beside him, cradling the body as a smile came across his face.
Sorry, man.
With a push, I slammed a wall of telekinetic force down onto the two men, squishing them and their growing hives alongside them.
A loud thud caught my attention as I spun, drawing my shotpistol and readying my abilities to throw aside whatever was making a racket.
But as I moved, yelling ensued.
At the end of the cafeteria, I could see them: a struggling man and two others beside him.
"Shoot him!" screamed Allicent, struggling to keep one of the man's arms pinned to the table.
"We're trying to help you, damnit!" came the shout of the woman who initially tried to help him, holding a combat knife that one of the Enforcers must have given her.
Where's Manny?
"Throne! Frak's he so strong for!" A gurgled groan came from the floor, Manny's hand coming up and lifting himself from the floor, his other hand pinching his nose shut as blood flowed from it. His blood-slick hand was already fumbling with his holster as he tried to draw the weapon free.
One of the 'Vics tried to grab his other flailing arm, only for the man to catch and gouge out his eye before a wet crunch followed the 'Vic's scream, the corrupted man's hand pulping his head with an ease that belied his twig-like limb. With a push, he sent the body careening into Manny, sending him back to the ground in a mess of tangled limbs.
The man's momentum allowed him to whirl about and push Allicent away; thankfully, he used his newfound strength to escape rather than further attack the men and women around him.
Fuck.
"Get down!" I yell, steadying the shotpistol before firing twice.
BANG!
A hole was punched through his right shoulder, the man stumbling and reaching for his now dangling arm, held up only by strips of muscle and skin.
BANG!
The following shot gouged out the side of his torso.
I could see his organs pulse and muscles moving in tandem from the holes in him, and yet he still ran, barely slowed by his injuries, getting closer and closer to the door through which Murdok and Ryse had exited.
Once more, I readied my weapon, preparing to drag him back, even if I had to splatter him against the walls to ensure whatever disgusting blessings he was given were put to a stop here and now.
At least that was before the door was opened from the other side, a boot firmly planting itself in the corrupted man's stomach, and with a spark, the nozzle of the flamer at Murdok's hip was alight, and the fleeing man went down screaming an unholy wail. Murdok calmly stepped forward, sending a kick into him before sending another stream of burning promethium onto the man.
We could only watch as the man burned to death, his once deathly wails silenced as his vocal cords burned away, and all that was left of him was a charred husk.
"Fine work, sir. Frakker would've gotten away without your help." I tell Murdok while waving away the smell of charred meat and burning promethium.
"It's gone to shit since you walked out, sir. Karkin bugs, maggots, and all the smaller grubblies were nesting in the food."
Murdok shivers at that, "Bugs." He shudders once more, raising his newfound flamer once more, as if the nasty blighters would emerge at the word.
I take in the sight of the man, slightly out of breath, scuff marks and bodily fluids splashed across his carapace, and a purity seal torn free.
"We ran into more of those poxwalkers," he grimaces, wiping away the gore that streaked his armor. "They slowed us down getting here," Murdok explains. Turning to the door and barking at Ryse to enter.
"Ahahaha! Look at this, bossman!" Ryse exclaimed. "We've got autoguns, some flak, a few clubs, even a laspistol!" he says while pulling weapons from the handcart he had been lugging around. "Even got m'self a holster! Check it!" pushing his hips outward, I see a revolver hanging at his hip and a combat knife dangling on the other.
"Barley! Get over 'ere ya bastard, we got goodies!" he yells over to his partner, now dragging in a pallet full of dubiously edible rations and commissary items.
"Excited, isn't he?" I ask Murdok.
"Give a man a gun and he thinks he's invincible." He shakes his head ruefully.
"All of the standard-issue carapace and weaponry meant for Arbite Troopers and Enforcers have been taken. Internal logs show they were taken an hour before the attack. It looks like Proctor Kelsi had all lower-ranking Arbites accompany him topside to attend a ceremony." Murdok said calmly; however, I could tell from the emotions bleeding off of him into the Empyrean that he was anything but calm, with two-thirds of their personnel taken to play socialite.
"Anything about what ceremony it was for?" I ask, hoping that it was not another case of the Volscani of Cadia.
"The Planetary Governor is planning a welcoming parade for the Sixth's return and resupply." Murdok tells me, "Supposedly, a few noble scions are among the Sixth; this is just the warm-up party for the spires." He says in disgust.
Fuck, does that mean Grendyl's warband is already in orbit? Does Murdok even know there's an Inquisition ship overhead? Does anyone know?
I nod in understanding, "Noble karkers. Sitting in their spires while we deal with this groxshit."
"Best to keep that to yourself, old man." He says, nudging me and gesturing with his chin at the Prick and Suckup, Prick looking intensely our way, eyeing the weaponry and armor.
"Hah! I'll worry about the Prick if we ever get out of the damned precinct, sir." I joke, but I still keep an eye and ear out in case Suckup tries to gut me to get in good with his ward.
"Not to sound like a coward, sir. But when are the Sixth to arrive?" I ask, trying to keep the worry out of my voice, "We'll need their help if we're to cleanse the lower levels, especially if they've got a psyker on their side, sir." I rationalize, masking my worry as eagerness to take the fight to the cultists.
Murdok looks to me, his visor now raised as he gives me a wicked-looking grin, "Eager now, aren't we, wytch? God Emperor willing, they are to arrive within the week, as long as warp travel fares well. Arbite and the blessed Sixth! What a sight it'll be! And we will be there on the front lines, wytch!"
Frontlines. Yeah…
With a pep in his step, he looks to the cart full of weapons and armor before addressing me once more.
"Arm the men, and don't give anyone more than a mag of ammo." Reaching into the cart, he draws out the laspistol, "I'll be giving this to Allicent, the fodder out there would waste it. My men will give me a better sit-rep than you anyway, wytch." Grinning, Murdok walks off, once again leaving me to sort out the grunt work for him.
Hope the Enforcers put in a good word for me.
Seeing the effort Ryse had put into moving the cart, I just nudged it along to the entrance of the kitchen, waving Ryse and Barley forward, the two carting along Mulroy and the foodstuff meant for the 'Vics.
Gameface, you're playing a commissar right now. You're a commissar. You're a commissar. You're a…
"Alright, boys and girls, FORM UP!" I bark out to the 'Vics.
Eleven nameless men and women in total now.
"For your exemplary service in the name of Him on Terra, Intelligencer Murdok has deemed you fit to be above our fellows!" I gesture for Ryse and Barley to step forward, "Deputies Ryse and Barley, equip yourselves of arms and armor! Flak, helmet, and autogun!"
The two eagerly rush forward to equip their new toys, buckling their flak armor, tightening the chin straps of their helmets, and slinging their newly minted autoguns over their shoulders. The two men now looked like tried-and-true Enforcers.
Pulling Barley closer, I whisper to him, "Prep the rations, everyone gets two and a water flask, go!" Nodding vigorously, he yanks the back of Ryse's flak before the two begin to break down the pallet.
Leaning over the two, I whisper once more, "Save some good bits for me, and I'll make sure you get some extra ammo."
"Prick! Girlie! Suckup!" I shout at the trio, "Equip yourselves!"
As two of their number sent me a heated glare, I continued on, "You!" I pointed at the woman who had tried to render first aid to the corrupted man. She met my look with a steely-eyed glare, a woman with some spine to her, good. "What's your name, convict?"
"Selene, sir."
"A strong name," I tell her. Selene's a younger woman, mid-twenties give or take, with strong arms and calloused hands, her hair cut short in a reminiscent bob, a manufactorum worker by the looks of her, someone used to watching out for others.
"Arms and armor, get to it, and see if one of the Enforcers has a medkit you can borrow. I'm sure you'll do better with it than any of us."
As the men and women I called forward were done donning their armor and weaponry, I once more looked out at the 'Vics, now antsy with excitement.
This time, I called out into the Empyrean to seek those who should be appropriately equipped and those of whom I would need to keep an eye on going forward.
Bloodlust.
Cowardice.
Fear.
Anger.
Lust.
Definitely gonna have to keep an eye on you.
But a few still shone among their number.
Duty.
Courage.
Determination.
Penance.
Three younger men, along with an older, grizzled ganger, stepped forward as I pointed at them, my eyes closed as I felt their surprise at being called forward.
"Hmph. Old Man, you'll be watching over them. Arm yourselves." I state, not wanting to know their names just yet, if one of them is left standing at the end of this, I might just ask.
"The rest of you." I take a long second before continuing, "Scum." I could see in their eyes how they would much rather turn those weapons onto us; as such, an example would need to be made.
That one there, the one filled with bloodlust, and what he thought to be a well-hidden stub pistol, thankfully bereft of ammunition, beneath his clothes.
He will do.
Pointing, I curl my finger forward, lifting him off his feet.
"Intelligencer Murdok, what's the sentence for a stolen firearm and desecration of Adeptus Arbites personnel?" I ask, my voice carrying over the now silent room.
"10 years hard labor for an unlicensed stubber, 5 years for the theft of personal property, and a fine of 1,500 Thrones." With each word, the clank of his boots rang out as Murdok drew closer.
At Murdok's words, the man began to laugh.
"You're gonna put me to work, now, are ye?" he continued laughing, "Best of luck getting me there! I'll be right at home with the rest of those karkers!"
Murdok only continued his sentencing, "The desecration of Adeptus Arbites personnel." He looked the man in the eyes, "Death."
At those words, the man finally stopped laughing, now looking at the two of us, waiting for either of us to draw our weapons.
"Selene. Kill him." I say to the room.
A burst of gunfire punctuated my words.
And then there were ten.
Letting his body drop to the floor, I stand behind Murdok, allowing the man to take the stage.
"You are all vermin! Shit beneath my boot! A right frakkin disgrace!" Each statement rises in tone and volume. " You are not men, not anymore!" With these words, Murdok takes a step forward only to put his shock maul into the gut of a glaring 'Vic. "You are tools to be used and disposed of at my will! You are alive because I allow you to be, do not forget that!"
"Cassoway, get them in their armor. Manny, Allicent, get Mulroy back onto his feet, we're leaving this damned precinct."
As I turn back to the 'Vics, I can hear it in the stark silence, from the mouths of the bolder men, and even more from the surface thoughts of the quieter ones.
'Frakkin, dog.'
It seems I've earned my place then