Lando Frix watched the kid leave the room, once again questioned his decision of bringing him on. But after all these years he trusted his instincts and they were screaming the kid was different. He didn't move like a civilian or a 2 bit ganger.
The kid reminded him of combat veterans from the planetary defence force, that same air of quiet confidence.
He shoved aside the bubbling rage that thinking of the PDF always stirred. The political manoeuvring that got him kicked out and almost executed as a heretic still burned. He'd served with distinction, working his way up to Colonel from nothing.
Jumped up nobles, he knew he should have transferred, but he wanted to stay on his planet. That choice brought the inevitable interference from the nobles. Something he'd always regret, always thinking, what if?
He shook of the ugly thoughts and turned back to the kid, focusing on his shooting. The kid had impressed him more with every shot. He didn't brag like a cocky punk, full of vitriol, no he just stated fact. Nothing more, nothing less. He was a good shot too, one of the best he had seen this far down in the hive. Sure there were those better, many in the gang in fact, but they were all veterans with decades of experience. Lanto liked to think he had a hand in that, thanks to his insistence on training.
It was what kept them on top.
But it was the kid's calm confidence, taking everything in his stride, that impressed him, against his better judgment. As the kid entered the room, Lanto had watched him scan the area, his eyes evaluating guards, cataloguing dangers and noting exits.
So, he was taking a chance, it was a small job, if the kid fucked up, no real loss. But the kid had saved his life, so he deserved a chance.
It took several hours to get the rest organised making him wish, nostalgic for the efficiency of the Militarum. Not something he thought he would ever say which like many organisations within the Imperium was sluggish at best and centuries too late at worst. There was a duality to be sure, it could be a mission in futility to get supplies for the guards but then at the same time his men were a line of defence for the hives so they were shipped a steady stream of weapons, only for them to dry up as they were pulled without warning to another regiment or a war in the far off corners of the empire.
And that wasn't counting any of the interference from the nobles, jockeying for power, with little danger to discourage them this deep in the Imperium.
But finally they were off, his strike team, the kid and a handful of muscle that were there just in case. He didn't want to say they were meat shields, but he had seen more combat than he ever wanted and had to make the hard choices before.
And would again.
Leading them through the twisting labyrinth of street, sometimes climbing several layers only to drop back down before they reached the edge of their territory, far to the north. He still remembered how easy it was to get lost when he first arrived. And a wrong turn could easily turn fatal.
It was actually the leading cause of deaths. Or at least for new blood.
A few 100 metres would lead to the disused sector and the swamp at its entrance. Unlike the other side of the gulf which connected by a gentle slope down to it, their side dropped off leaving an empty void 100 metre across to reach the hab. Not something they could bridge, not that he would want them too.
It would be just another weak point.
A bad one at that, considering all the monsters, mutants, beasts and general dangers that came in from the outside, he liked it on the far side. In front of them was a long bridge across to the Ash Stalkers territory and who they were about to hit. Halfway across there was some cover from the huge metal tracks, dozens of metres tall that in the distant past were used for transporting thousands of tonnes of materials.
Crossing it he paused as they reached the middle, hiding amongst the jigsaw of corrugated iron and scaffolding that some poor fucks lived in. From there they were going to be out into the open. And his bionic eye could clearly see the 2 lookouts on the far side so best not to disturb them quite yet.
Looking around at his strike team, a group of people he had worked with for years. Some like Drakar, a abhuman had proven his worth a 1000 time over. His huge size and leathery rocklike skin gave him enormous power and protection, allowing for him to do his normal strategy.
Charge and cave in skulls with his huge bastard sword, although it looked more like a short sword in his hands. He had to be as big as the legendary Astarte's, although he had never had the privilege to meet one. Next were Vyrna and Shem far more shabby looking humans but a crack shot and with well-honed reflexes of living in the undercity, he knew they had his back.
Or as much as anyone in the undercity did.
Then there was Telel, the quiet, stoic women of dark complexion, a rarity in these parts. Left for dead by her mercenary company, she'd found a place amongst them. At the back there was the kid, dressed in rags and filth, although strangely healthy. Like the environment and lack of food brushed off of him. He would have to change his cloths if he proved useful.
He looked almost comical holding a rifle nearly as large as he was. His eye, however, were anything but, cold, deep marine blue. Finally, there was the rest of their rabble: the new recruits, or those who had been with the gang for a few years but had yet to prove themselves.
"Alright, gather round. Across the bridge we have two lookouts, then across the street into the warehouse. A few guards inside. We're going in to clear them out, take what we can and destroy the rest." Turning to the kid he said, "Find a spot, take out the lookouts, the rest of you stay out of sight. I will call you if I need you." Remembering something, Lanto fumbled through his pockets. "Wait, kid, take this." Tossing over the vox over to him. It was old, clunky, and on its last legs, no loss if the kid ran.
As the chaff moved out he turned to his team. "Any question?"
They shook their heads, only Shem spoke up. "I'm still not sure about the kid."
"This is an easy opp. If he fucks up, no problem."
"I know, but…"
"Enough." he cut him off. He had heard it all before. Several times in fact. Holding his gaze until he saw the defiance fade. Then he waved Drakar forward and stated across the final stretch of the bridge. They walked in a casual stride, like they belonged, but Lanto made sure to keep an eye out on the lookout.
Even as he watched, Lanto noted the left lookout, clearly more observant, nudged the other indicating something. They didn't look concerned yet, their stride giving them an advantage. Lanto watched as one prepped her gun and the other manned the heavy snub turret.
As they got closer, doubts about the kid started to appear. Had he done a runner? Lanto almost signalled Sham to take the shots, it would've been easy for him at this range, when a crack sounded out, echoing through the Gulf. The ganger manning the turret head exploded in a sea of gore and blood.
Before the gun shot echo had faded and before the other guard could react another shot rang out. Not as perfect a shot, but a kill shot nonetheless. It struck her in the chest, blowing a hole through it and the flimsy protection she called armour.
As soon as the first shot had rang out, Drakar broke into a powerful run, the rest of the crew following closely for cover. They cross the last hundred metres, closing in on the warehouse. Glancing both ways, Lanto saw the streets were empty, just as he'd hoped.
They should be, but it wouldn't have been the first time a mission had gone FUBAR.
As they closed in on the door, it swang open to reveal a surprised looking kid, no more than sixteen, standing there, gaping. Lanto had just lined up his laspistol when the child was thrown back, a gaping wound in his chest. The rifle retort behind let Lanto know where the shot came from.
Good reflexes, Lanto thought. He was about to lay suppressive fire ready for Drakar when the walls around the door started to get peppered with shots as the kid fired as fast as he could. Impressive speed with a bolt-action rifle.
Nodding approvingly, Lanto slowed down as Drakar bellowed charging in. Letting the other 3 move in with far more precision he entered last, just in time to see Drakar cave in a man's skull in. With the room clear they systematically cleared the rest of the building just like he had been taught.
They shifted through the warehouse and too their surprise they found crates of high quality goods. Food, guns, ammo. Not the normal crap you found in the depths of the hive.
Lanto stomach twisted, How the hell did they a have these?
Before he could think further on it his vox crackled to life. "Lanto, you've got company, an armoured truck, ten men and a couple of cyber mastiffs."
Swearing under his breath, Lanto jumped down the last few stairs and peeked around the corner. Sure enough, there in the street sat a fucking heavily armoured truck, autocanon on top. A few men were jumping down, most with augments, the signature of the Ash Stalkers gang.
That was how the gang made most of its money, augments and dog fights.
There wasn't time to dwell on that, the truck was old but the autocanon could still shred them.
Lanto's mind raced, how the fuck did they have that, no that is a question for later. The men jumping down from the landcrawler were better equipped too, these weren't the usual rag tag group of gangers. Hardened flak armour, lasrifles and one even had a chainsword. A fucking chainsword. He hadn't seen one of those in years.
This was bad.
Waving the others over he was about to throw one of his grenades, as loath as he was too do that. Every throw was a hit to the gangs resources and the damn things weren't even guaranteed to do the job.
Just as he was priming the grenade the vox crackled in his ear. "I can take out the gunner," Aleric's voice came through, confidant. "And distract the rest."
Lanto didn't need to think, "Do it." Setting his team up in position.
The shot rang out, sharp clean and deadly. The hiver manning the heavy snubber head exploded in a spray of gore. Moments later the driver joined him in. The gangers scattered, diving behind the truck or any other cover they could find.
The gangers moved fast. Lantos heart pounded in his chest, a grin on his face as the remaining shots fired off. A few grazed some but nothing lethal. But he had their attention. Ohh boy did he. The gangers were now fully committed on killing the kid their guns barking as they returned fire.
Lanto had to hand it to him, he was fast with the bolt action. If he could actually get him to survive he might be able to make something of himself.
Focus
Mind back on the mission, there was no time to waste. With a quick gesture Lanto signalled for the charge. His team surged forward, moving with practiced precision. The Stalkers didn't stand a chance.
The kids gunfire kept their attention away from him and his team, giving them the perfect opening.
Taking the merc completely by surprise they were moped up quickly and the warehouse was theirs.
They set about clearing out the place, Aleric once more on overwatch. Unfortunately the truck had to be burned using its own promethium as they couldn't take it with them.
But otherwise they made out like bandits, even with the extra grunt to carry crate they had to leave a good chunk of it behind burning like the truck.
-----
Nodding at the guards, Lanto stepped into the meeting room, one of the gangs most secure. A reinforced chamber deep within the heart of the HQ.
He scanned the room, noting the faces of the those he had come to respect and even trust, or at least as much as you could trust anyone in the undercity. In the centre was a large almost ornate table with Selina at its head and her daughter Zardelle to her left. Moving over, exchanging hods with a few people he headed towards his seat.
Ignoring the sense of unease that always surrounded Selina's daughter, and pulled her into a brief hug. Pecking Selina on the lips and a small smile he sat in the empty seat to her right. Settling back onto the comfortable chairs he listened as she took command of the flow of conversation around her, not dominating it like so many he had come across in power, but masterfully guiding it just where he she wanted it.
That skill was one of the reason he'd been drawn to her. They had met out of necessity, her in need of a reliable protector and him a reason to live as well as a way out of easy reach of the PDF. They had been put in contact with one another, Jorik whom had become the now's gangs backer. A noble in the highest levels of the hive and if the hints about them were true the planets as well.
Lanto also suspected the noble was Zardelle biological father. Though Selina would never confirm it, and he had never asked. It didn't matter at the end of the day he had grown to see her as his own. He had watched her grow up from a helpless infant to the commanding and harden young women she was now.
In that time they had grown form a small-time gang of several people to what they were today. A gang reaching right up to the top of the spires. The early years of violence and bloodshed, had bonded Lanto to Selina. First as comrades but then as more. He would never forget the razor edge they had walked, the constant fear. Even in the PDF he had a sensible apprehension of the inquisitors but that was nothing compared to actually having something to hide from one.
Not that he thought Zardelle was a heretic, but she was mutated and had that odd unsettling aura around her. Many had mentioned it, but him and Selina refused to be scared of her. The mere mention that an inquisitor was in the system set the planet ablaze with strife, especially upon learning his name: Merek Firefist.
A pretentious name, until you learned it came for his perchance of exterminadusing worlds. Lanto had no idea what he was up to but even hearing about it was enough for him to want no part of it. Rumours and fear spread throughout the hive cities like wildfire, igniting conflicts wherever it went. Families turning on one and other in the fear that they hadn't repented enough.
All in the fear of drawing his attention and being condemned as a heretic, losing the Emperors blessing.
It was enough to stir the workers zeal, proving their loyalty to the Emperor. It was why they had to flee, Zardelle's mutations made her a target, marked for death to prove loyalty to the Imperium.
Even the underhive hadn't escaped the inquisitors influence. But that worked in their favour, killing the former leader of Glow Gate, shattering the gang and taking control of much of its former territory. Only the Trodden, controlling the main bridge, remained of the original gang.
They had only strengthened their position since then, slowly but surely expanding, not just in Glow Gate but throughout the hive. His training and their backer, who had supplied them everything from medicine to guns and rations, had made them a force to be reckoned with.
This allowed them to recruit more, and with higher standards.
This was necessary since the gang was spread out over the vast distances of the hive. While powerful, they lacked the concentration of other gangs. This had never been a problem before, but perhaps that was an oversight. Few had dare to challenge them over the years and none had been a real threat.
Thanks to their vast network of information, partly built though Selina's contacts from her previous life as a high-end escort in the spires, she had formed her gang around that age old profession. Across the hive, many girls working for her and under her protection.
It also explained why so many of their numbers were women. Especially amongst the lieutenants, captains and those within the inner circle.
He focused back on the conversation, eager to learn what was happening. Selin turned to Peggi, "So what the fuck is happening?"
Peggi coordinated their intelligence network, ensuring information flowed where it was needed. A key player in the gang, making her one of the most powerful individuals within it. Fortunately she was fanatically loyal to Selina, having been saved by her from the horrible fate as a young girl. She had grown up in the gang alongside Zardelle and had moved up to be the undisputed leader of the intelligence branch, passing on any information crucial to Selina and her backer.
"Fuck knows!" She tapping the table. "There has been no word, not a whisper, that the Ash Stalkers are gearing up. I've investigated the men and they are definitely theirs, but no one knows from where. Their equipment is the same. Far too good to be local. But all our contacts throughout the hive are drawing a blank."
The room fell silent as Selina mulled it over. After a few moments, she nodded. "Okay, keep on it. See if this is the start of a larger push or they were just testing the water. Rawna, how are the shipments going?"
"There have been no threats to them and nothing to suggest they'll target it. But we have doubled our security for now. Our recent shipment of Lichenshade made it up and is selling as well as ever. We've further processed the drug into Lichen Retort and that has gone to the spire with great success. So much so that we need to decide if we want to focus on that or not." Glancing down at her notes, one of the few gangers that could read and write, a skill that helped earn her the position, she continued "Apart from that the shipment of guns, equipment and rations came in as expected."
"Good." The women to her left said, cutting in. She was a burly woman, heavily augmented, the result of an explosion she survived. "We have been waiting for more supplies, our stocks running low. I will need to grab a few immediately; the water filtration pump 17 is fried and needs fixing."
Before the topic could be diverted Selina made sure Rawna had no further updates before turning to Orleth. "Is there anything else we need to know about maintenance?"
"Nothing yet. Just the pump. Guns and armour we are covered so we are ready for a fight if one comes."
"Good," finally turning to Lanto. "So the raid?"
"Yes." Lanto said, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. "It was a success. We took out a handful of grunts but also a well-equipped team, mercs probably which might be why Peggi can't find much on them. There was more there than we expected which I left with Peggi to investigate?" He trailed off, looking over to her in question.
"As I mentioned no one knows where it has come from. It is clearly hive made and local too but none of the shipments from the local factorums are missing. And I refuse to believe they have a reach outside of that."
He nodded, agreeing it was unlikely. Given the scale of the hive, no one gang could have information all over it, there was just too much of it. That and the nobles and guilds would never allow it. Just the area around where they operated, a few dozen kilometres wide, but going way up the hive, had a billion souls crammed together.
So their knowledge was not complete but it was good enough that nothing of this quality should have gotten in without them knowing.
"What's this about you taking a kid?"
He chuckled at that. "He pulled his weight and is a good shot." he said with a shrug.
"How good?" She asked intrigued.
"Very. Some of the best I have seen down here, particularly for his age. Maybe average, or the lesser half of things when I was part of the PDF. But he's barely 10, if that, so a good recruit."
"Huh, maybe a short list for you, Zardelle. You are still after a lookout, right? Also, how are you coming along for a second in command?"
"Yes mum." she said softly. Even when she spoke softly all attention was riveted on her, not just from her mutations. That sense of unease around her focused the mind to her as well, allowing her to be one of the most soft-spoken people in the gang. Her mum and dad as the leaders of said gang probably helped as well. "But I won't take him until he's proven himself. I have a few that I am keeping an eye on and I might have found someone within my unit."
That was good. Trusted seconds were hard to find. He put down a good part of his success in the guards own to the few good officers under him. Cultivating these people were crucial, both him and Selina wanted Zardelle to start early so she'd have a core of people around her to help, just like Selina now did.
"Good. Peggi has checked them out right?"
"Yep, they're all good and above board."
"Good. Let me know if you need anything."
Other topics were discussed around the room, but nothing that truly interested Lanto. Soon enough the lieutenants, and captains of the inner circle received their marching orders and then dismissed. Lanto waiting for the others to file, including Zardelle, who pulled the face of universal disgust as her parents got smoochy. Pulling Selina into his lap.
"How are you—"
I was rapidly coming to the conclusion I disliked guard. No surprise there—it was mind-numbingly dull. I stared through what might charitably be called a window, down into the smog-choked street below. Although the window was less a window and more jagged hole cut in the wall of the building with a good view of the streets and bridge across the Gulf.
Which is what we were actually here to guard. Lucky us.
Ever since the raid on the warehouse several months ago the gang conflict had been escalating—spilling onto the streets more frequently, disrupting other gangs and businesses. More and more skirmishes were catching bystanders in the crossfire. Some died, others got pulled in, turning the two-way shootout into a three-way or even four-way bloodbath.
No one was an easy target. Everyone had a reason to be here, rarely a good one.
It was this rising chaos that had us guarding places we wouldn't have done in the past. Which was how I found myself on a forgotten crossing, far from anything important.
The empty streets were a result of the fighting. Hundreds died daily and no one wanted to be next. Even the markets, some of the largest in the underhive, normally packed shoulder to shoulder sat near deserted.
The war turned what I knew intellectually into something real. Personal.
First were the deaths. I rarely saw them before, generally keeping well away from any conflict and bodies were never around for long, always taken, either by the corpse guilds or beasts. I had no interesting in becoming another statistic. But as part of the Court, I had access to more information, even if it was just hearsay.
My place in the gang was strange. Technically, I was a recruit and therefore at the bottom of the totem pole. But I'd also been recruited by Lanto, the gang's right hand and had I'd earned some respect form the warehouse raid. So even recruits who'd been around for several years listened to me.
Walking around felt… weird, I was so used to avoiding attention. Now with my gang colours I was attracting attention. Some fear and some respect. Hopefully more of the latter.
One disappointing thing I'd learned, I didn't get milestone sparks twice for the same thing.
I'd received a spark, one of the largest I received from the gig, but nothing since, even when the fighting had been just as brutal. That stung a bit but not shocking. I had gained another milestone spark for hitting 10 years old. The brightest one I had ever received.
Which was actually kind of depressing thinking about it. I figured the intensity of the spark was determined by how hard it was, so surviving to 10 was considered a major achievement by whatever system gave me the sparks.
Back to the deaths. The gangs were burning through people, hundreds maybe even thousands a day. But there was always more. Eager or desperate. I wanted to say I couldn't understand them throwing themselves into the meat grinder.
But I did.
Hell, if things had turned out slightly different it could've easily been me as one of those bodies, which was a sobering thought. But as more time passed the less likely that outcome seemed. Not from luck, no, the fragments. They were my ticket to security.
The one I'd earned in the gig was combat focused, so I focused it on my shooting. I wanted nothing to do with melee combat. No siree.
So I stuck to range. I was already good, so I focused my spark to further improve it. When the fragment formed it flickered a few times before settling on sharpshooter.
At first, I was somewhat sad. I'd hoped for sniping but I'd since become glad that it didn't.
It gave me much of the same information the sniper might have but broader. Effecting all guns improving my accuracy with them, even shotguns giving me greater flexibility, options which I was coming to love. But the real gem was the foundational knowledge which I had been missing. I'd further enhanced that the last 2 months sparks pushing it into the second layer.
I learned where to stand for the best shot, how to read the terrain for an ambush, whether I was walking into it or setting it up. And accuracy? That got another boost. It was invigorating having such control of where my shot went. It was like I could feel the bullet's path, guide it. Making it land just right.
My other milestone spark went towards what I was truly coming to love, technology. I'd run into a bit of a wall with some of my tinkering. The mechanical parts? No problem. But anything more advanced, came with layers of software which I couldn't do much with.
Like the servitor's robotic arm I'd been working on, it should have been running as smooth as silk but two motors kept fighting each other and the only way to fix it was to dig deep into the code. That's where my most recent fragment, Software, came in.
I got more than I expected. As usual, I focused on the Imperium tech. Turns out they pretty much only have 1 or 2 core programming languages. There were some minor variations over the centuries, but all based of the same core language.
Shaking my head I once more tried to focus on the bridge, I was on lookout duty after all.
I tried to focus; I really did. But after the hundredths curse and grunt from Caidold, I'd had enough. "Okay that's it. Swap with me." I said turning around. There were 2 others on lookout with me and a few dozen more spread out down below.
Leaning against the wall looking out another window was Vogg, a small wiry man. But sitting at a makeshift desk was Caidold. Nothing stood out about him except his deep red beard.
"Huh?"
"You take lookout. I'll fix the gun."
"I was getting there." Caidold said indignantly.
"Sure you were, like you were an hour ago. Now, swap." After sputtering a bit and getting no support from Vogg who shrugged at him, he grumbled a bit and took my place as lookout.
Dropping myself down onto the crate I turned my attention to the shotgun. It was full-auto with a huge barrel magazine and I shuddered just thinking about being on the receiving of it. Or at least I would if it didn't jam after every third shot.
I broke it down piece by piece, cleaning as I went, replacing anything to worn if Caidold had them. Which to his credit he mostly did. It took several hours but I got through the whole thing but still no sign of what was causing the jam.
Putting it back together it looked as good as new if I do say so myself. Well minus the ugly scar running along one side where a lasgun scored a hit along it. Cosmetic damage. Functionally it should've been perfect and… yet.
I pulled out my dataslate and started digging into the shotguns software. It was incredibly slow going as my dataslate barely functioned and there wasn't much I could do about it yet. This wasn't you typical shotgun like so many in the underhive. It had an advanced algorithm running behind it. Smart tech. It actually calculated the target distance and adjusted shot spread in real time for optimal coverage. It was some clever shit.
It was here I found it.
Turned out the ammo-type switcher, swapping between slugs, incendiaries and whatever else Caidold might have, was conflicting with another process. I was still very inexperienced with the software so even with the problem found it took me an embarrassingly long time to fix, way longer than I would admit too.
But once it finally clicked into place. I couldn't keep the grin off my face, very pleased with myself.
Vogg let out a low whistle, "If nothing else, he's cleaned it up better than you ever did, boss."
"Ahh fuck off, so it's fixed?" Caidold asked as he picked it up. Dry firing it a few times.
"Yep. I get why you struggled it was a finicky bastard."
"Thank the Emperor, I felt naked without her."
Caidold was mid-sentence when Vogg who had actually been doing his job called out. "People approaching. Stalkers."
"Good means I get to use my baby again." Caidold said at least until he looked out and saw just how many were approaching. "Shit." he muttered.
Scurrying to the window I peeked out. Sure enough, a couple of dozen ganger were sprinting across the bridge. One of the rare times I was thankful for Imperium over engineering. Who needs a tunnel several kilometres wide. The Imperium of Man, that's who.
But it helped us in this case as they were still quite far out.
"Alright, Vogg, Aleric stay up here and take a shot when they get close. Aleric use the autogun. Not that monster of yours." He said casting a look over to the corner where my customised rifle rested. Most of credits I made for working in the gang had gone into the thing.
It reminded me of a .50 cal only cranked to eleven maybe event twelve. It was a massive gun and way to unwieldy for most firefights, but it could punch through damn near anything. Honestly? It started as a challenge to myself. Could I even build something like that just using my knowledge. Not that I would tell anyone that.
Nodding I grabbed the autogun he pointed at. It might not have the range of my sniper, but it was far faster firing which was what we needed now. As I was setting up, over my shoulder I heard shouts as Caidold started to organise the rest of the gang members below.
Moments later I could see movement below me as the gangers flooded out onto the street, taking up positions.
Turning back to the approaching Stalkers, I could make out more details now they were closer. The thick fog and smog making the visibility harder. Honestly, I was pretty sure Lanto and the others only got so close to the guards that day because of the worse than usual levels of smog rather than their incompetence.
Then again… could've been both.
The front runners were clearly new blood, mismatched armour (if any), awkward grip on their weapons. Clear rookies. But the ones at the back? They moved with the confidence of those who had lived a hard life and much of it in combat.
Proper veterans.
They were also packing serious war gear, mostly flak armour, but two in the rear were wearing carapace armour. An incredibly rare and heavy armour. I had only seen it once or twice in the gang, but it left an impression. It was the last stop before power armour so yeah, you can image how strong it is.
I ducked down out of sight, making it much harder for them to get an angle on me. Steadied my breathing and heart rate, this was turning out to be quite the fight.
150 metres.
I pressed the stock deep into my shoulder, gripping tightly onto the gun ready for the recoil. At roughly 100 metres Vogg and I opened fire—almost perfectly in sync.
The noise was deafening, echoing around the cramped room, dust raining down from the ceiling. The recoil was even worse than I was expecting.
My bruises were going to have bruises.
But damn was it worth it. Our slugs shredded the front line. Scattering the rest, some dived for wherever cover they could find. Most didn't have any stuck on the platform over the void. Some tried to hide behind their fellow gangers, real heroic stuff.
It almost seemed like the raid would stall out with the men in front pausing only to be shoved forward by the more experienced gangers at the back. I clamped down, controlling the recoil as best I could, lining up shots while they were still clumped up.
As soon as they hit the street they to spread out—smart move.
Shots started pinging off the metals walls around me. Swearing I thought about shifting spots when the Court members on the street opened fire drawing their attention.
With a little breathing room, I switched to short bursts—taking out one person after another. I focused on the ones who knew what they were doing, but when a kid, maybe a year older than me, stood up in clear view? I didn't hesitate, killing him and moving on.
We had shredded most of the fodder in our opening shots, but the veterans were still making steady progress. A scream below told me we were losing some of ours to their heavy fire. But they were doing their job: holding the enemy's attention.
I shifted position, crouched to get me a better angle, and tried to pick of those better armoured where I could. Problem was they knew what they were doing—only exposing themselves for thin slivers of time. And when they did get hit their armour did its job.
I landed several good shots but they barely even noticed—with the metal slugs pinging off. This was worse for the carapace gangers, who were bringing up the rear, stomping through the street. They were using what cover they could but for the most part they just advanced.
I just thanked our lucky stars they had not pushed us more aggressively, as I watched more shots ping off them. Even a las shot only singed the armour.
Looking around at the carnage below, broken bodies scattered across the street, both friend and foe alike, I glanced at Vogg, "This autogun is doing fuck all. I am getting my one."
"Toss it over here then it has more punch than mine."
I nodded, slid the gun along the rockcrete floor with the last 3 mags and keeping low as I moved over to the back wall where my sniper was. Grunting slightly at the weight of it, I swing it round and then braced it on some rubble.
It was absurd, incredibly unwieldy, weighing far too much and to get the extra power behind it I had to lengthen the already long barrel making it almost comical to look at, at over two and a half metres long. The coils and magnets running along it also made it very top-heavy, with much of the weight of the gun in the barrel. Ridiculously impractical.
I took a breath. Lined up the shot.
Thump.
A deep sound echoed through the room—deep and bone shaking, like the heavy bass. Even after it faded away my ears were still ringing. I made a note that I would need some ear protection unless I wanted to go deaf within the week. It was an awe-inspiring sound, and it wasn't just bark but it had bite too.
The shot striking the Stalker member cracking his carapace armour open like an egg.
But this power did not come without cost.
Even braced for the recoil, it was brutal, smashing the gun into my shoulder and almost ripping it from my grip. Taking a moment to catch my breath, I noticed how silent it was, like the entire city was holding its breath.
Then the gunfire kicked off again but different now. The enemy were hesitant. Especially the no longer invulnerable carapace wearer. They were looking around for me. I stayed low, deep in the shadows within the room out of sight.
Lining up another shot.
It was harder shot—he was closer, ducking and weaving, forcing me to constantly need to shift my stupidly sized gun to get an angle.
But when I did the deep boom thundered out once more—reaping another life.
This broke the last of them, even the left-over veterans retreated, a few dropping dead as they did. As the gun shot faded, my ears still ringing, I could finally make out sounds it had masked. The screams and cries of the wounded and likely dead men.
Not much in way of docs this low in the hive. The gang had a few, we even had some halfway decent surgeons who could slap on basic bionics. Nothing fancy, none of the truly complex stuff. That kind of work? That was the Ash Stalkers specialty and were some of the best around.
Rumour was several of their surgeons and were disgraced medicae from higher up the spire.
Looking at the blood-spattered streets I'd say we did well, five heavies, and seventeen Stalker members dead. Only eight Court members died for it.
Which sounded good, until you realised that there was five people left, including me, Voff and Caidold who I could just make out barking orders. Even so, the carapace armour was rare even amongst the elite gang members so that had to been a big hit to them.
I had no idea what they were doing out this way, but then we could be near an important storage warehouse for all I knew.
Glancing at Voff, I asked, "You okay? Hit anywhere?"
"Nah, all good, kid. Good shooting."
I nodded, grinning and settled into silence, eyes scanning the street below. I wasn't expecting anything, but better safe than sorry. I had no interest in dying thank you very much. A few more years of collecting sparks and who know where I would be.
Far better off I hoped.
"You alive up there?" Caidold shouted from below.
"Yeah boss, all good!" Voff shouted back.
Once he knew we were keeping watch he went back to wrangling the chaos. It wouldn't be for several hours until he stepped back into the room. Down below, bodies were already scavenged for anything useful—weapons, clothes, gear. Nothing went to waste.
Bionic were either yanked out or set aside for someone who knew what they were doing. Even the corpses wouldn't go to waste. I tried not to think about where they went, or what they became. There were many corpse merchants down here ready to take all the dead up to the processing plants further up.
Corpse starch. If I thought about it too long it made bile rise in my throat. Best left in ignorance.
I didn't know how most gangs handled loot, but part of the appeal to the Court was their mostly fair system. So after a good battle like this you could find yourself really upgrading your gear.
"Good shooting you two, I recon without you we might not have held them off."
Voff asked what I'd been thinking. "What was worth that kind of attack?"
Shrugging Caidold said. "Fuck knows. Only thing nearby is a warehouse, so it might be that. But it doesn't matter, we go where we are told." He nodded towards the long barrelled beast by my feet, "Those last shots from your monster?"
Smirking I nodded.
He chuckled and gave a whistle, "Glad I wasn't on the nasty end of that. Salvage is nearly done, you two will get a good cut. But that carapace armour?" He shook his head. "Even if you dropped the guy, Aleric, that'll likely go to some higher up. But you'll get first picks of the rest. So that's something."
I nodded. I wasn't surprised. Maybe a dozen people in our gang had a full carapace armour. It would've been a miracle if it went to me. The Court was fairer than most—but there was still a pecking order.
And I was most definitely at the bottom.
For now.
----
Spoiler: Points
AN - Thank you for all the interest.
For point suggestions do throw them out, if I like them I might include them in time. 2 things for that however, first there are only in universe options so things out of universe will not be considered, which I think I have mentioned somewhere but if not I will add a section of him trying it and it not working. Partly as I would need to research them to include and there is more than enough in 40k already so I don't feel the need too.
Secondly, the OC/SI has little to no knowledge of the world so some of the more esoteric things will be later down the line. He has basic knowledge any casual might have but the deeper lore he has no idea of... yet.
Finally, I will try to add the perks list at the end. I will edit this in a bit to add it.
My growling stomach distracting me from the components lying on the workbench. Sighing I leaned back from my hunched over position. The bench was too tall, so I stood on a box but that made me too tall, so I had to hunch. I longed for the day I had a growth spurt pushing me over my 5 feet nothing.
I tapped the neural transductor, deactivating it. The metal arms and attachments hissed retracting until it was just a black metal box once more. When I gotten it, I had known it was an amazing find, but since using it and gaining some skill with it, did I realise quite how lucky I was.
Total game changer.
I still couldn't use all the features, needing some mind linking technology to get the most out of it. Allowing far more precise control, not needing to use the joysticks I currently used. But even with that limitation it was basically magic.
It was every multi tool you could name and plenty you couldn't, all rolled into one machine. With arms strong enough to twist and bend steel, welders, solders, wrenches, magnetic clamps and so many more. Easily my most prized possession, that or my relic pistol.
I eyed the jumble of bits and bobs slowly taking shape into a fully kitted-out helmet. Nodding to myself, happy at my progress.
It was just a standard PDF hardened flack helmet but it had all the space I needed to attach a load of cool stuff too. Night and thermal vision, zooms optics, coms and best of all, a rebreather.
Finally, I'd be able to filter out some of the chemicals and smog in the air.
Stepping back from the desk, I gave the rest of the room a once over, with no small amount of pride.
My own room!
It wasn't much larger than the box I was in before, but it actually had headroom. No longer did I need to stay hunched over I could actually stand up. The novelty still hadn't worn off.
It was barely had room for my bed and workbench but that was enough. The room might have felt larger if it wasn't stacked—floor to ceiling with scrap. It was all useful. Fixing, building, tinkering, a fair use of my funds.
Others might disagree—but what did they know.
Unlike the majority of gang recruits I had my own room. Most were crammed into bunk rooms. Perks of getting recruited by one of the bosses I suppose. I certainly wasn't complaining.
I stepped out locking the door behind me—electronic, with a palm sensor and even a biometric scanner. Not that the biometric scanner bit worked but it was enough to keep most out. Moving down the tight metal corridors, some even clean, I headed for the canteen.
That was one thing I was definitely thankful for. The food might still be the same old slop and gloop, but I could eat my fill. Gone was the constant gnawing hunger. No more rationing every bite. The first few weeks I had to be careful to not overeat and make myself ill.
But by now I was thoroughly enjoying my food. Well enjoying might be the wrong word. I was enjoying feeling full, the food still tasted like shit.
I stepped into the large room, which at one point in time might have been a restaurant for the rich. Much of it had been stripped out but there were hints of it here and there. Now it was lined with sturdy metal tables and chairs.
Leaning back in the chair, stomach full, when a shadow passed over me, I glanced up and I saw Voff. "Hey Aleric, can you do me a favour?"
"Voff. Possibly. How can I help?"
"Caidolds shotty's working like a dream since you had your hands on it. Thought maybe you could do the same for my autogun?"
I blinked surprised. "Sure, I can take a look."
The gang was like everywhere else, you were on your own when it came to weapons. You could go to the armoury and have someone look at it, but it invariable cost you. Most people I'd seen treated their weapons like shit. Never cleaning it and never doing maintenance on it.
Thing is, in the gang, you were expected to learn how to clean your own gear. How many actually did, I had no clue but I found it an interesting difference. Maybe something Lanto brought from his time in the PDF?
"Rad." Voff dumped the gun down next to me. Blocky, ugly thing, dull grey, rugged with a scope bolted on top and something like a silencer on the muzzle.
"When you need it by?"
"I've got a backup, but I am on patrol this afternoon. If you could do it by then great. If not no worries."
Glanding at my chrono. "Yeah, I've got time now so should be able to get it done by them."
"Sweet, I own you one."
Quickly finishing my meal, I grabbed the rifle and made my way home. Once there I set it on the table and got to work. As I stripped it down, cleaning the parts as I went, I could tell it was from our hive. The components were more sophisticated, and some of the design choices were a dead giveaway.
With all the tinkering I'd done, I'd started noticing something odd about the gear floating around. It seemed to fall into three distinct patterns, or tiers if you will. Which when I thought about it made sense.
At the bottom was the simple stuff, mass produced by unskilled workers in the titanic forges above. This was the most common stuff down here: basic circuits, clunky pistons, poorly fitted parts. Cheap. Crude and pumped out by the tons.
Then came the more complicated stuff, mid-tier. Better components, processors, and tighter tolerances. Things like lasguns and bionics fitted nicely into this category. Still made in the hive, but far more exclusive, and the quality varied from hive to hive. We were lucky in Noxium, our hives forges put out better tech than either of our two sister hives.
Then you had the advanced stuff, high tier—the rarest of rare in the underhive. These couldn't be mass produced in the hive. They needed the constant oversight of the tech-priests and were either made on their forge worlds, or in very rare cases hand-crafted. Mind impulse unit were found here, hence why I couldn't buy one for love nor money. And even here there were layers, with more advanced ones like those used in Titan, could only be produced in certain forge worlds.
And then there was only final tier—relics from the Dark Age of Technology. Half the time they may as be magic.
A few parts needed replacing. Luckily, I had most of what I needed—or close enough that the neural transductor could forge the rest from scrap. If I didn't, I'd have hit the armoury or various merchants to try to find the pieces I needed. Not something I enjoyed doing. They were always trying to squeeze every credit out of you which was just exhausting.
That was not too much of an issue with autoguns, mostly mechanical, so the parts were pumped out of the manufactorums above by the 1000s of tonnes.
Putting it back together, I dry fired a few times, then headed off to the gun range for some 'testing'. Or that would be what I said if asked.
Truth was, I just wanted to shoot it.
I'd not tried this particular model before, it was much smaller than those I normally used. Designed for medium range, bigger than any autopistol but more manoeuvrable than my monster.
The gun range itself was surprisingly well-kitted—or at least, I thought so. I'd nothing to compare it too. No idea if it was a common, but everyone had mandatory shooting practice. Each week you got a set number of rounds to burn through.
No formal training or anything, just firing shots down range.
Unless an older ganger took you under their wing showing you the ropes, rare as that was. If you survived your time as a rookie, otherwise? You were on your own. Still just shooting, focusing on aiming helped a lot.
I was honestly pretty pleased that the training I did was actually helping, like training a rusty skill. The knowledge was still there, just dulled. But more than that, I could improve the skills I gained through my sparks. Lanto had given me some tips and tricks and I could actually feel the skill fragment grow which was a huge relief. I'd been incredibly worried it wouldn't.
Which was a good thing, because as time passed the frequency of my sparks was decreasing. Not by much, but if it continued there would be a time when I was no longer gaining sparks and would only get them through milestone which would get harder and harder to get.
This was proven by my most recently gained milestone sparks. I'd gained two for a skirmish and then a the warehouse mission but nothing for any of the combat since.
I lined up on the target and looked through the cracked scope… another thing to look at. More to the point, how the hell did he even manage that? It was incredibly tough glass, needing serious effort to damage it, you almost had to be trying. Regardless I sighted as best I could down the range.
I set it to burst fire and had some fun. Like most slug-thrower, it kicked like a mule, but with this model it was more manageable than most. The smaller gun, with lighter rounds made the recoil more manageable, although if I went full auto I'd have zero control.
Some of that was just me—my size or lack of it.
While I'd miraculously escaped deformity, mutation, malnutrition and many of the other pitfalls, I was still stick thin. Weighing about as much as a wet tea towel. Hopefully the steady meals would change that… just in time for puberty. Even with the few scraps I remembered from the last time, I wasn't looking forward to the experience.
Looking at the target, I blinked stupidly for a moment.
I missed.
I never missed. Or at least not that spectacularly.
Switching to single shot I tried again, and this time could clearly see the shot hit far to the right. Once I compensated for that I started landing shots like normal. Definitely something wrong with the scope, and the cracked glass wouldn't account for it.
The scope was a surprisingly sophisticated, a red dot that shifted to highlight the target, making each shot perfect… in theory. It even displayed other information like the remaining ammo, which seemed to be working fine. But more testing ot letting it worry me I set a was certainly warranted.
Not letting it worry me I set about shooting all the ammo I could down range, enjoying a solid couple of hours of target practice. Although my shoulder was definitely grumbling by the end of it. My whole body was to be fair, like it had just had an intense workout.
Back at my workbench I set the gun to one side, happy that it was as good as I could make it without pouring hours into it. And lets be real, considering my track record he probably wouldn't want me tinkering with it anyway. Not after what happened a few weeks ago when I'd tried my hand at modifying a gun by giving an autogun a grenade launcher.
It worked perfectly… right up until I fired it. Then it exploded in my face.
The explosion would have likely killed me, had I not used the high tech testing solution of some string tied to the trigger. Even with that minor setback I had a blast and couldn't wait to play some more.
I slotted the scope into my transductor. Its screen lighting up, a bit of navigating later and I was scrolling though the internal error logs and code. It took some trial and error but I found the cause. I had found the coding to actually be far harder than I was expecting, or maybe messy was a better word. Just like the hardware: it was a hodgepodge of designs and styles all stuck together.
At the very bottom the foundation was a beautifully written piece of code. It was efficient clear and well documented. Everything stacked on top of it? An absolute mess. Like someone had just stapled on blocks of code with no idea what half of it did. Entire sections were worthless, actually slowing down the scopes targeting.
Now that kind of bloat didn't matter with something as simple as a gun scope but I shuddered to think what some of the more complex systems were like.
With the code fixed as well as the glass I put it all together and ran some tests, then set off to find Voff. I would have liked to have another go at the range but I had used all my ammo and didn't want to have to trade for more.
Having tracked him down and handed back his gun I figured that would be the end of it, but as the saying goes 'no good deed goes unpunished' and several weeks later Voff was once more standing over me while I was eating.
Greeting me he plopped down in the seat opposite me and pulled out square vox, an old beat up thing meant to pick up vox stations. What he expected to hear down here I had no clue. Maybe a few signals were in range, the Emperors light would be if nothing else.
That one was always blaring in every corner of the hive. Shouting the virtues of the Imperium and the Emperor himself, piped straight from the local Ecclesiarchy. Now there's a faction I never wanted to get on the bad side of. Even deep down in the under hive you heard stories of their reach, which had only been growing in recent times.
Word was, the governor answered to them. If they said jump, he asked how high. Not that I had anyway to corroborate that, just whispers around the bars—drunken talk, always muttered low and with eyes glancing over shoulders.
Insulting the priest or the nobles was a good way to find yourself disappeared.
Voff looked almost sheepish. "Could you take a look at the vox? I've had a few tecs poke at it, but none could find what's wrong."
I weighed up my options before deciding to go for it, Voff owing me another favour couldn't be a bad thing. "I can take a look, but no promises."
"You're a blessing, I'd never find another one with such a good range." With that said he disappeared off into the crowd before I could ask any questions, like what was actually wrong with the damn thing except the helpful insight of its broken.
Sighing to myself I picked at the gloop called food, fiddling with the vox as I ate, trying to find something that might point me in the right direction. Was it cutting out at a certain frequency? Triggered by volume? Taking it apart didn't reveal much. A few worn components but they were well within tolerances. I noted them anyway, just in case.
Once it was back together and still not working, I set to look at the software, which honestly was what I'd expected from the start. I'd learned, through some carefully worded questions that hardly anyone in the undercity, hell the hive in general messed with software or machine spirits as I heard some of the techy's mutter.
Why they called it that, I didn't want to know. I mean the code in general was weird. Some was well made and even had some adaptive algorithms but that was it. And then others were incredibly complicated and inefficient. Like someone used several paragraphs that could have been condensed into a single word or sentence.
Other were almost mutated, like they had grown, which according to my knowledge was not a thing. But I had noted it so when I had a spare spark I might use it to find out more.
Just as I thought, a coding issue. A corrupted file caught in a loop causing the glitch. A bit of finagling later, the vox crackled to life, to a painfully cheery voice shouting about the latest stonking victory over the orks. All in the Emperors name, of course.
Not keen on listening to the same crap most bars played, if they had their own vox. Twisting the dial, I passed a few stations until I came across a very faint one that barely in range.
It was playing something I could only describe as jazz and very well actually. I left it playing, sat back and let the music wash over me. I couldn't tell you the last time I listened to this sort of music. While not a favourite of mine but compared to the local noise? It was bliss.
The local stuff? All haunting melodies, windchimes and droning organs. That kind of thing. I had no idea why people loved it, but they did, almost unanimously. Which severely limited my already pitiful music options. Half a dozen songs later, I roused myself and handed the vox back to Voff, this time not sticking about in case he asked something else.
--
"Okay, now you're taking the piss." I said to the grimacing Voff. Next to him stood a girl I vaguely recognised. Probably part of the haulers, but I could be wrong.
"I know I said that was the last time." Voff said, glancing at the girl. "But Velma's lasrifle is fucked. We took it to the armoury, and they told us to scrap it. You know how rare these are."
I leaned back, regarding both of them. "True. Okay I'll take a look, but this won't be for a favour. I need a trade or credit."
"Really, come on—"
"Nope. If you're going to keep bring things for me to fix, I need to get paid. I use my own supplies you know."
"I get that but come on this—"
Velma cut him off. "It's not much but will this do?"
I gave it a quick inspection, before I nodded. It was a well maintained knife, beautifully inscribed and fit snugly into my hand. Smaller than my current combat knife, It would make a nice addition to be tucked away. "You've got yourself a deal. I will see what I can do. Might cost extra if need rare parts."
Agreeing they left me too it and that was how I found myself quite the profitable little side hustle. Pretty soon, almost all my free time was taken up by repair jobs. Not that I complained, getting paid to tinker with technology and learning as I went.
Win-win as far as I was concerned.
It did mean I had a near constant backlog of things to work through, so proper free days were rare. Which suited me just fine. I did make exceptions though, like when the Tidefall rolled in. I still wanted to explore and try my luck, but I never pushed very hard.
There was no need too.
Even so, I was going deeper than ever, a mixture of my confidence in defending myself and my new knowledge helped me cruise through the safer sections at the start.