Time in the underground didn't pass in days or nights. It passed in cycles of hunger and harvest.
Three months had bled away since the convoy mutiny.
Station Zero was no longer a tomb. It was a fortress.
The air in the vast metro cavern smelled of ozone, roasting beetle meat, and the earthy tang of the mushroom gardens that now lined the rusted tracks. The silence of the dead city had been replaced by the rhythm of survival.
Clang. Hiss. Clang. Hiss.
In the center of the platform, Varian moved in a blur. He was shirtless, his body lean and scarred, sweat glistening in the glow of the moss-lights.
"Again!" Gorgon roared, swinging a padded stone fist the size of a microwave.
Varian didn't block. He flowed.
[Symbiote State: Fluid.]
His left arm, coated in the black sludge of Subject X-99, wasn't solid. As Gorgon's fist connected, the sludge parted like water, letting the blow pass harmlessly through the gap, then snapped solid around Gorgon's wrist.
"Gotcha," Varian gritted out.
"Too slow!" Gorgon laughed.
The giant twisted his body, using his immense strength to lift Varian off the ground and slam him onto a pile of training mats (old seat cushions).
Varian hit the mats with a grunt, the wind knocked out of him.
"You rely on the slime too much," Gorgon said, offering a massive hand to pull him up. "Your eyes see the opening, but your human legs are laggy. You need more protein."
Varian took the hand and hauled himself up, wiping sweat from his eyes. "We're out of protein. Unless you want to eat another Rust-Roach."
Gorgon grimaced. "I'd rather eat gravel."
Varian looked out over his kingdom.
It wasn't pretty, but it was alive.
Along the far wall, the "Barracks" were set up. The twenty hybrid children were awake and active. They weren't soldiers yet—they were too damaged, too young—but they were contributing.
A group of three children with chlorophyll-green skin were tending to the Fungal Garden, accelerating the growth of the mushrooms with their touch.
Near the ticket booths, Echo—the bat-eared girl—was sitting with Elian. Elian was reading aloud from a scavenged manual, his fingers tracing the braille Varian had made, while Echo used her sonic screams to pulverize rocks into sand for water filtration.
They wore armor made from the chitinous shells of the Rust-Roaches, stitched together with wire. It looked primitive, tribal, but it was acid-resistant and tough.
"Boss!"
Rix scurried down the escalators, his claws clicking on the tiles. He was wearing a vest made of roach leather and a pair of oversized welding goggles.
"Rix found it," the Rat-Boy panted, his whiskers vibrating. "The Up-Hole."
Varian's expression sharpened. The playfulness of the sparring match vanished.
"The route to the Industrial Belt?"
"Yes. Ventilation Shaft 4-B. Fans are broken. We can climb. But..." Rix hesitated. "Smell is bad. And air is poison."
"We have masks," Varian said. "Why were you up there, Rix? I told you to scout, not breach."
"Rix heard things," the mutant whispered. "Radio chatter. From the Church. They are doing a 'Sweep'."
Varian froze. A Sweep.
In the slum lexicon, a "Sweep" meant a purge. The Church of Purity would seal off a block of the Industrial Belt and burn everything inside to "cleanse corruption."
"We need those supplies," Varian muttered.
The kids were alive, but they were sickly. Their hybrid biology was unstable. Without Immunosuppressants, their bodies would eventually reject their own mutated organs. The Bio-Alchemy Union kept them alive with drugs; Varian had to steal them.
Varian turned to Gorgon. "Suit up. We're going topside."
Gorgon cracked his stone knuckles. "A raid? Finally. I was getting tired of hitting you."
The Ascent
The climb was a claustrophobic nightmare.
Varian, Gorgon, Rix, and the Lizard-man mercenary (whose name was Kraz) crawled through a ventilation shaft that was barely a meter wide. The shaft went straight up for two kilometers.
The air grew hotter and thicker with every meter. The cool, stale air of the ruins was replaced by a cocktail of sulfur, coal dust, and chemical smog.
[Environmental Warning: Toxic Particulates High.][Symbiote Filtration: Maximum Load.]
Varian adjusted his gas mask. The Symbiote on his left arm had extended thin black filaments into the mask's filter, eating the toxins before they could reach his lungs.
"Light ahead," Rix whispered.
They reached a service grate. Varian pushed it open.
The noise hit them instantly.
CLANG-THUD-WHIRRR.
They emerged onto a catwalk high above the floor of Sector 4.5: The Foundry District.
It was a world of iron and fire. Massive blast furnaces, five stories tall, roared like captured dragons. Rivers of molten slag flowed through channels cut into the floor. Thousands of workers—looking like ants from this height—toiled in the smog, their bodies covered in soot.
"The Industrial Belt," Varian whispered. "I haven't been this high since..."
Since before the lab. Since he was a child.
"Look at the smog," Gorgon grunted, checking his hammer. "Breathing this makes your lungs turn to stone. And I should know."
"Target is the Helix-Pharma Warehouse," Varian pointed to a squat, concrete bunker located on a ridge overlooking the foundries. "It supplies the clinics for the workers. They'll have the blockers."
"Security?" Kraz hissed, his lizard tongue tasting the air.
"Automated drones. And maybe a few private guards. Low tier."
"Let's move."
They moved across the rooftops, jumping from factory to factory. Varian moved with a fluid grace, his training paying off. He didn't just run; he flowed, using the Symbiote to grapple and swing across gaps.
They reached the warehouse roof. Rix went to work on the skylight, picking the electronic lock with a magnetized needle.
Click.
"Open," Rix grinned.
They dropped down into the shadows of the warehouse.
Rows of shelves stretched into the dark, stacked with crates of medicine. It was a fortune.
"Grab the blue boxes," Varian ordered. "Type-O Immunosuppressants. And painkillers. As much as you can carry."
Gorgon and Kraz began stuffing their duffel bags. Varian stood guard, watching the doors.
His System was quiet. Too quiet.
[Passive Scan... No threats detected.]
Why is it unguarded? Varian thought. This is high-value stock.
He walked over to a terminal on the wall. He hacked the log.
[Log Entry: 0800 Hours.][Status: Evacuation Ordered.][Reason: Inquisition Raid Protocols active in Sector 4.5.]
Varian's blood ran cold.
"Stop," Varian hissed.
"We're almost full," Gorgon whispered back.
"Drop it. We leave. Now."
"What? Why?"
"Because the guards didn't leave for a coffee break. They left because the Wolves are here."
CRASH.
The main blast doors of the warehouse blew inward.
Dust and debris flew everywhere. Through the smoke, bright, white spotlights cut the darkness.
"Purge Unit 4!" A voice amplified by a loudspeaker boomed. "Sensors indicate biological unauthorized entry. Cleanse the area."
Three figures stepped through the smoke.
They weren't just guards. They were Squires of the Church.
They wore sleek, silver articulated armor engraved with scriptures. They wielded shock-lances that crackled with blue electricity.
And leading them was a Beast.
Not a Wolf. This was a Sanctuary Hound. A mastiff the size of a bull, covered in silver plating, with eyes that burned like halogen lamps.
[Enemy Encounter.][Leader: Squire Kaelen (Tier 2).][Beast: Sanctuary Hound (Warrior Rank - Mid).][Threat Level: High.]
"Mutants," the lead Squire sneered, spotting Gorgon's silhouette. "Stealing medicine meant for the faithful?"
"We're leaving," Varian stepped out of the shadows, his hands raised. He channeled the heat into his arm, but kept the glow dim. "We don't want a fight."
"Heretics don't get to choose," the Squire leveled his shock-lance. "Hound. Feast."
The Hound roared and charged. It moved like a silver bullet, aiming straight for Varian.
"Gorgon! Block!" Varian shouted.
Gorgon stepped forward, swinging his engine-block hammer.
CLANG.
The Hound collided with the hammer. The impact created a shockwave that shattered the nearby windows. Gorgon slid back three meters, his boots carving grooves in the concrete floor.
"It's heavy!" Gorgon grunted. "Heavier than the roaches!"
The two other Squires rushed forward, their lances glowing.
"Kraz! Rix! Flank them!" Varian ordered.
Kraz leaped onto the shelves, firing his scavenged pistol. Bang. Bang. The bullets sparked harmlessly off the Squires' silver armor.
"Armor is too thick!" Kraz yelled.
Varian watched the Squires. They were disciplined. They stayed in formation, shields up.
Physical attacks won't work. They are tanks.
Varian looked at his left arm. He remembered the acid from the roaches. He remembered the heat from the core.
"Chemistry lesson," Varian whispered.
He sprinted toward the lead Squire.
"Suicide run?" The Squire laughed, thrusting his lance.
Varian ducked under the electricity. He didn't punch. He slapped his open palm onto the Squire's chest plate.
[Ability Activation: Acid Coat.]
A layer of green, bubbling slime secreted from the Symbiote, coating the silver armor.
"Filth!" The Squire shouted, trying to bash Varian with his shield.
The acid sizzled, eating into the polish of the metal, pitting the surface. But it wasn't fast enough. The armor was thick.
"Not enough?" Varian grinned. "Let's speed up the reaction."
[Thermal Injection: Maximum.]
Varian channeled the Solar Core. His hand turned white-hot.
Heat acts as a catalyst for chemical reactions. When you heat acid, its corrosive power increases exponentially.
HISSSSS-CRACK.
The green acid boiled instantly. The reaction turned violent. The Squire's chest plate didn't just melt; it sublimated. A hole burned straight through the silver steel in a split second, exposing the padding underneath.
The Squire screamed as the heat seared his chest.
"What sorcery is this?!"
Varian followed up with a Mercury Whip uppercut. The blackened, hardened fist slammed into the Squire's helmet, knocking him backward into a crate of pills.
The Squire went limp.
The other two Squires froze. They looked at their leader's melted armor.
"He... he burned through Blessed Steel!"
The Sanctuary Hound, sensing its master's pain, abandoned Gorgon and turned on Varian. It opened its jaws, revealing rows of spinning, mechanical teeth.
"Varian! Behind you!" Rix screamed.
Varian spun around. He was too slow. The Hound was mid-air.
THWACK.
A massive stone object flew through the air and hit the Hound in the ribs.
It was a pallet of medicine, thrown by Gorgon.
The Hound crashed into the shelves, buried under boxes of antibiotics.
"Grab the bags!" Varian shouted. "We're gone!"
Gorgon and Kraz grabbed the duffels. Varian grabbed a box of painkillers.
They ran for the skylight.
"Reinforcements!" Rix pointed to the door. More silver armor was visible through the smoke.
"Up! Up!"
Gorgon boosted Varian up to the roof, then hauled himself up.
They sprinted across the rooftops of the Foundry District, the alarms wailing behind them.
One Hour Later - Ventilation Shaft 4-B
They slid down the shaft, landing back in the cool, silent air of Station Zero.
They collapsed on the platform, covered in soot and sweat.
Varian leaned against a pillar, his chest heaving. His left arm was smoking. The combination of Acid and Heat had taken a toll—the Symbiote was gray and sluggish, exhausted.
[Caloric Debt: 3,500.][Symbiote Integrity: 75% (Acid Etching Detected on Self).]
"We got it," Gorgon laughed, patting the duffel bags. "Enough meds for a year."
Varian didn't laugh. He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket—a flyer he had snatched from the warehouse wall as they ran.
He unfolded it.
It was a picture of the Industrial Belt. A red circle was drawn around Sector 4 (The Slums/Sewers entrance).
[Public Notice: Purification Protocol.][Sector 4 is designated as a 'Bio-Hazard Zone'.][Total Incineration Scheduled: 7 Days.]
"What is it, Boss?" Rix asked, seeing Varian's face.
Varian crumpled the paper.
"They aren't just raiding warehouses," Varian whispered. "They're going to burn the sewers. Rix's old home. The Dregs. Everything down there."
"My people are down there," Kraz hissed, his tail twitching.
"Seven days," Varian said. "In seven days, they pour liquid fire into the vents and seal the exits."
Gorgon stood up, his joy gone. "We're safe here, right? We're deep enough?"
"We are," Varian said. "But Iron-Jaw isn't. The other mutants aren't."
He looked at the meds. They had saved the kids. But if the Church burned the Sector, they would lose their connection to the surface. They would be buried alive.
Varian looked at his Symbiote. The acid burns were slowly healing.
"We have a base," Varian said, his voice hard as iron. "We have an army. And now... we have a war."
He turned to the group.
"We're going back down. Not to hide. We're going to recruit. Every mutant, every Dreg, every unwanted wretch in Sector 4. If the Church wants to burn us... we're going to give them a fire they can't put out."
Varian's eyes glowed with the violet light of the Symbiote.
"The Iron Legion is expanding."