Opportunity Knocks

“Five, only five,” Sergeant Julius thought to himself. “Malcavoy had better come through with the others, and quick. It’s a good thing there’s not much going on down here… yet.”

“Where do you want to establish the Garrison Sergeant?”

Julius, he still hadn’t gotten used to the name, stirred himself from his thoughts. He knew exactly where he wanted to position every thing. He just didn’t have the man power to do it very quickly. He set down the pile of rebar he was moving into position for an outer wall and whipped the beading sweat from his face.

“Your standing in it Froster. I need you to demo that hab-block over there,” Julius replied pointing to a row of five old tenements, long abandoned. “We need to clear it for fire lanes. And this time, see if you can leave us some useful materials. We can’t be bringing down everything we need from above.”

Froster nodded and moved off to complete his assignment. Julius looked around. With nothing apparently living in the newly rediscovered dome they had their pick of locations. The Enforcer Sergeant had settled on a three hundred by two hundred meter island that was completely surrounded by a river of industrial waste run-off. The toxic river had surprisingly little fumes. Perhaps it was because there was an equal amount of breeze that also blew through the dome. The sole bridge connecting the small island to the rest of the dome was still intact, and it was apparent that this little island had once been a sort of central trading post for the outlying regions. It also just occurred to him that the viscous sludge flowing past was not acidic, the metallic piers that jutted out from the island and “mainland” still stood. If the liquids had been corrosive they would have long been eaten away he thought.

As it was, he and his five man patrol were busy clearing out an area to firmly establish their new Patrol base. With the bridge coming across at a narrow finger it was easy to determine where the first guard tower would be located. The second would enclose one of the piers on the river, while the third would face the rest of the island. In time the Enforcer’s precinct compound would be a reassuring presence to those who walked by. But that was still sometime in the future. Until the Guilders arrived with the first shipment of supplies, materials, and servitors, the work would be slow going. Even so, he needed to establish presence patrols.

“Kyle! Come here!”

The Enforcer picked up his shotgun he had leaning against a post where he had been digging, and scampered over.

Returning the man’s salute Julius informed him, “Grosse and I will be heading across the bridge. I need you, Hicks, and Froster to keep watch on the approach. No one is to cross until our return.”

“Understood,” was the only reply before the man went off to obey his orders.

“Malcavoy, you sure can pick good men,” Julius thought to himself.

“Grosse!”

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

Fifteen minutes after his conversation with Kyle Julius was ready to head out with Grosse and their assigned Cyber Mastiff, affectionately called ‘Logan’ – well, affectionately to at least Grosse that is. As they performed their final checks on their kit Froster could be heard calling out, “Fire in the hole!”

BAWHOOM!

The ground trembled under their boots as the demolition charges went off. Looking over to where the hab-block that he wanted removed used to be, all Julius could see was a rolling cloud of dust. Yup, things were moving along nicely.

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

It felt the ground beneath it rumble. It came from a different direction than the new opening.

Sniffing the air it could not detect anything. Nothing registered out of the norm. With a quick signal it sent others to investigate.

Perhaps the flesh things moved more quickly than it anticipated.

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

The hair on the back of Julius’ neck stood straight up at the same time he noticed the foot prints in the ash dust that covered the street before him. It was too quiet, and the air wasn’t moving.

Following the four sets of foot prints with his eyes the Enforcer Sergeant could tell they led to an old gambling den. For the first time the stench of death was close by, and not some faint, indistinguishable odor. This was close, and Julius was sure it was coming from the other end of these tracks.

Grosse sent ‘Logan’ forward. The synthetic dog moved forward sensing the air for any sign of trouble as it went, but it made it to the porch without incident. Once on the porch it caught the scent of a trail and signaled such back to Grosse. Logan also signaled which direction it seemed to go off in, and then went back to sniffing around the porch. After sniffing into the doorway and the broken front window it began to return to its handler.

Halfway back it halted, turned to face back the way it had just come, and the distinctive sound of its synthetic growl began to rumble in its throat. Both Grosse and Julius heard it and readied their weapons.

In the distant shadows both men could see something moving behind the gambling den, on both sides. Logan was constantly growling now, and Grosse had to call to the construct twice to get it to return to him.

Julius signaled them to move forward. He wanted to use the building as a means to narrow down the approaches. As they made the porch Julius had Grosse take the right corner, while he took the left.

“I have two coming my way,” Grosse called over his shoulder.

“Same here,” Julius replied. “Can you make them out?”

There was a slight pause, “not for sure, but they shuffle like plague zombies.”

‘Great,’ Julius thought to himself. ‘My own patrol, he said. Establish a new dome.’

The Enforcer Sergeant peered around his corner to try and get a better look for himself. ‘Maybe I should have thought twice.’ Sure enough, two man shaped things, shuffling steadily towards them.

“I only see the two, plus your two, we should be in good shape. We take shots and fall back as we go. As long as we stay out of arms reach we should be good.”

“Got it,” Grosse replied.

THWIPING!

“What the hell was that?!” Gross called back as he snapped his suppression shield to the front.

“What was what,” Julius called back.

“Something just ricocheted off my shield, almost like they shot something at me.”

‘That’s not right. Plague zombies aren’t supposed to do that,” Julius thought to himself.

THWIP, THWIP, THWIP!

around the corner the two zombie-like things were fairly close. Calling over his shoulder to his partner Julius wanted to know where they were at.

“These two have set up an overwatch position. Almost like they want to keep us from running away,” Grosse answered.

‘Not good. That is not good. Another example of what they’re not supposed to do. They are not supposed to display these kinds of tactics.’ Julius prepared himself. “You’re going to have to hold your side, return fire and keep those things occupied.”

“Ok, wait…” Grosse looked over his shoulder, “…what are you going to do?”

“Ahhhhh!” was the only reply as Julius took off at a full run charging the things on his side.

Glancing down at his Cyber Mastiff, “What are up waiting for?! Logan! Attack!” and the handler motioned for the dog to follow Julius. With a start the cyber mastiff was off to fulfill his handler’s command.

Using a pile of petrified scrap to cover his approach Julius managed to slam into the nearest thing with all his might, and it barely moved. As the Enforcer ready himself to let loose some shots with his bolt pistol Logan lunged from behind and clamped its jaws around the things throat. With a growl and a jerk of its head the Cyber Mastiff snapped the zombie’s neck and it lay still.

Immediately Julius shifted his aim and leveled his bolt pistol at the next zombie’s head. As he was squeezing the trigger he realized that it was cradling some kind of weapon. It looked like a heavy slug thrower, maybe even an ancient bolt gun.

BLAM!

He didn’t give it any more thought, he just pulled the trigger. The small explosive round detonated and the things head shattered.

He watched the thing fall and could not escape the fact that the things he knew about the plague, and what it did to its victims, did not seem to line up with what his mind was registering.

The sound of gun fire brought his mind back into the present. From the other side of the gambling den Julius could here Grosse was fully engaged in a gun battle with these… things. In an effort to flank the assailants he continued around to his left. Stopping at the back corner of the building he peeked around the corner.

Two zombie-like things were engaged in a firefight with Grosse on the far side of the building. He’d have to cover some open ground to get at them, but there was yet another pile of scrap to cover his approach. Logan’s computer brain was not programmed for patience, and it took off running.

‘At least its smart enough to use cover for the approach,’ Julius thought to himself has he sprinted for the cover.

Logan had slowed enough that Julius caught up at the scrap pile. “Looks like we can turn the tables on these things,” Julius said looking down at the Cyber Mastiff.

Logan looked back up and him and seemed to reply with a quiet synthetic ‘Woof’. Julius chuckled and shook his head slightly to himself.

“Come on boy, let’s get ‘em!”

The pair of Enforcers bolted from behind their cover charging head long at their enemies. This caused the pair of zombies to turn their attention to the new immediate threat.

The nearest one adjusted its fire to the new targets, but it missed completely. The second zombie stepped back to get a better angle at Julius and the dog. When it did so Grosse had a clear shot and he took it. Out of the corner of the charging Sergeant’s eye he saw the other zombie jerk sideways and collapse.

Before Julius could close into reach of his power maul Logan was launching into the air and knocking their combined target to the ground. The thing tried to fight off the powerful construct, but it was just too slow.

‘I’m going to have to remind Grosse to sterilize that thing before we let it just walk around the compound again,’ the Sergeant thought to himself.

CRACK!

Some sort of slug whistled close enough to force Julius to flinch. Turning towards the new threat he could see the last zombie had recovered enough to return fire once more. This one was close enough to assault right away, but before he could even flinch Logan was on top of the monster, rending it apart.

Before either Enforcer could move to help out the dog it had finished the target off. As they approached it looked up at its handler and simulated panting, and even wagged its synthetic tail.

“Come on, we best get back to the compound. If this is a sign of things to come around here, we are woefully under prepared,” Julius said glumly.

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

“Froster, Kyle, Hicks! Front and center!”

The three men picked up their respective weapons and ran to meet their patrol Sergeant. Each man was stripped down to their waist and the sweat was pouring off them. Looking around Julius noted some dramatic improvement to the perimeter. It was not a permanent solution, but it was good. As he turned back to address his men, a fourth, similarly clad Enforcer walked up.

“Sarge, this is Yake. He arrived while you two were out for your walk. He’s been assigned to our little corner of ‘heaven’,” Froster said. “Yake, this is Sergeant Julius.”

Julius recalled the man’s file, “Your our assigned sniper, are you not?”

“Check sir,” the man replied and produced a slightly modified Bolt Gun. The barrel was slightly longer than the standard issue weapon.

“Welcome to patrol sector One Charlie Seven Six Enforcer.” Julius motioned for Logan to bring something up. “You gentlemen need to get back in your battle rattle. It looks like we are going to have some company.”

Logan dropped the zombie body it had been dragging in the middle of the assembled Enforcers. To a man they each turned pale.

“And it gets better,” Julius said interrupting their thoughts. “They were using this,” he added, dropping the captured weapon on the corpse.

Froster turned to his Sergeant and said, “But I thought…”

“Exaclty,” Julius replied.

Opportunity Knocks

Ian was almost running. Chigger had passed along a juicy tidbit of information. Some Guilders who had been passing through yesterday had let slip that a new dome had been discovered, one that promised a “’treasure trove’ of archeotech that has not been seen in the underhive in many a century”. He wanted to make sure Dyrke heard about this, and quick.

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, in his haste, Ian bowled Amber over. The pair ended up intertwined on the floor of the hallway.

“Um… are you ok?” Ian asked as he stood up, and then helped the woman to her feet.

“Yea, I’m good. Where you off to in such a hurry?”

“I need to see Dyrke. Is he down here?”

“Check the main room. I haven’t seen him all day.”

“Catch you later for dinner,” Ian said over his shoulder as he jogged off down the hall.

“Looking forward to it,” was her whispered reply.

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

“No.”

Ian’s mind was having a hard time wrapping around the words coming out of his leader’s mouth. He had grown to trust this man with his life, but it just didn’t make sense. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity. This kind of thing does not come knocking very often.

“But, Boss…”

“I said no Ian. We are in control of a vital resource for House Van Saar right here and we are not moving.”

Ian adjusted himself and waited further reprimand. When it didn’t come he allowed himself to exhale. Dyrke dismissed the young man with a wave of his hand. Turning back to his thoughts Dyrke realized that there would be other chances to contribute to this new find. It would just have to be from afar.

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

Fist dropped his half full duffle bag at his feet and looked around. The cramped room was piled high with boxes. Looking around he couldn’t see anyone.

“Anyone here”, he called out as he knocked on the small counter.

“We meet once more Enforcer, or should I say, ‘Sergeant’ Fist.”

Fist turned to meet the familiar voice. “Judge Malcavoy,” Fist said as he assumed a parade stance, “a pleasure to see you again.”

“Yes,” the judge motioned for his two Cyber Mastiff companions to sit and assume a guarded stance. The sound of the gyros was slightly unnerving, even for one who trains around the beasts regularly. Fist shifted in his stance slightly. “It would seem that you have continued to prove yourself, despite my first impressions of you Enforcer. You have proven me incorrect in my assessment. A rarity, I assure you.”

Fist was about to thank the Judge but was not allowed the opportunity. Producing a large envelope from somewhere within his commissar-like overcoat the Judge continued.

“I have taken steps to arrange for you and your Patrol’s equipment. Also, enclosed within this envelop you will find a dossier of each man I hand selected.”

Fist ripped open the envelope as Judge Malcavoy continued.

“Unfortunately time did not allow me to assemble all of the men before you are to depart. I will personally see to it that they arrive as quickly as possible. The ones who were readily available I have waiting outside.”

Fist reviewed the roster and each man’s specialty. ‘Heavy Stubber, good. Grenade Launcher’, Fist would have preferred a flamer but it would be fine, it would have to be apparently. ‘A sniper? Interesting. A Handler with Cyber Mastiff, excellent. A pair of assault trained Enforcers and a trio of standard shotgun Enforcers – they should form a good core. This is odd…’

“Sir, this is an excellent mix of men and equipment. But I wonder,” Fist hesitated a moment. He did not want to come across as questioning his superior’s decision. “Why a demolitions expert? In my experience…”

“Your experience is barely worth noting,” Judge Malcavoy interrupted. “Froster is an excellent man, and you will find that he will be able to get you through any obstacle. Any more questions?”

Fist hesitated. Even if he did he wouldn’t speak up now.

“Oh, and there is one more thing. You will no longer go by the name ‘Fist’. It is to crude and is not a proper reflection of one who represents Lord Helmawr.”

Fist looked up, slightly confused.

“Your name is now ‘Julius’. A more proper and appropriate name don’t you think?”

But before Fist could respond the judge turned on his heals and left. The Cyber Mastiffs turning inward followed on the heels of their master.

“Oh, and you won’t be carrying that barbaric shotgun anymore either,” he called over his disappearing shoulder. “I have left you a present there on the counter.”

Fist stood their dumbfounded. Was there nothing this man did not feel he could control? He started to wonder if he would ever enjoy any sort of free reign, even as a Sergeant. He began to loathe this unwanted mentor.

Turning to the counter was a rectangular military style container; the locking clasps were facing him. Not knowing what else to do he slowly opened up the box.

Inside, held with form fitting insulating foam, was a Power Maul, two power cells, a slightly decorated Bolt Pistol with ‘Julius’ and his new rank etched and stenciled into the side, and two full clips of ammunition.

“One can never overlook the generosity of others", Fist thought to himself. "Opportunity does not come knocking all that often.”

Dome Rush

“Corporal Fist, report to the Commandant’s Office immediately. Corporal Fist to the Commandant’s Office.”

Fist stared at the intercom for a moment. For the past one hundred and fifty days he had been pushed to his limits while training to become a Sergeant in Lord Helmawr’s Enforcers. For all that time he had managed to keep his nose clean and out of trouble. He could not imagine what he could have done to draw this kind of attention, so it was with great trepidation that he reported as ordered.

Fist’s knock on the Commandant’s office was answered promptly and he was called inside. The office was plush by the utilitarian standards of the Enforcers. Several bookcases were lined up along the back wall behind the desk that dominated the room. The desk itself was centered underneath a rare fiber-optic light that funneled sun light this far into the interior of the hive from the outside, a rarity that the stature of the office provided. The sharp contrast of light from what Fist was used to, almost distracted him enough to keep him from noticing the heavy set man standing off to the side of the room.

“Ah, Corporal Fist, please have a seat.” The Commandant said to Fist without standing. When Fist produced a salute he waved it off and again directed him to the chair.

Fist thought about refusing the offer, that he would prefer to stand, but then thought better of it. As he sat down, the man standing off to the left of his commanding officer shifted and started to say something, which was met by a hand held up. This silenced the stranger, at least for the moment.

“Corporal, I have been reviewing your records and I must say that I am happy with your progress. So much so, that I am recommending you for a new assignment, effective immediately.” The Commandant watched Fist for a moment before continuing.

“The gentleman to your right, my left, has brought a situation to the attention of Lord Helmawr himself, a situation that requires our immediate response. You have been assigned to a brand new precinct in the underhive. I know it is not an assignment worthy of your achievements at this academy, but it requires your unique leadership qualities. You will be leaving immediately, and with an understaffed patrol. Do you have any questions?”

Corporal Fist resisted the urge to clear his throat before replying. “Only one sir, will I still graduate with my class?”

The Commandant chuckled as he stood. “No son. You have achieved a good enough score to pass this course. Your record will show satisfactory completion of this school, you are effectively promoted to Sergeant as of this afternoon, and the only thing left is for you to report down to the supply Sergeant and draw your kit. Your newly assigned patrol will meet you there.”

Sergeant Fist stood and accepted his Commandant’s offered hand. “Thank you sir. I will enforce Lord Helmawr’s edicts with all effort.”

The two men shook hands, Fist offered one more salute, and then marched out of the office to begin the next chapter in his career.

Once the door shut behind the eager young man, the Guilder finally spoke up.

“I can’t have such a newly discovered dome to be entrusted to such an inexperienced whelp Colonel. This demands an ‘Iron hand’, a hand that wields the power of Lord Helmawr himself.”

“Bring it down a notch Guilder. This ‘inexperienced whelp’, as you refer to him, comes with the direct recommendation of Judge Malkavoy himself. You will not find a man more ready to accept this responsibility. At least not one that’s available at this time.”

“Very well Colonel. But be advised that you will be held responsible if he should fail in his mission.”

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

“How dare you lose face like that?!”

The proud Escher warrior actually cringed under her Matriarch’s rebuke.

“As a result of your failures we have lost a major route to our holdings within the underhive!” The elder was beginning to get red in the face, and Fushia was getting nervous.

“Your team is getting split up. We can no longer afford such visible mistakes at the Bifrost! We are taking five members of your gang and sending them on an errand for the greater House. As for you, you are being sent further down to manage our chemical salvage operations.”

Fushia stood up to defend her honor. Instead she felt two heavy hands land on her shoulders and pressed her back into her seat.

“You leave immediately, take her away.”

The gang leader was dragged snarling from the room. Once she was away the door to the elder Escher’s office was closed.

‘I just can’t tolerate incompetence such as that,’ thought the woman. ‘And now I can have a more… direct influence upon our efforts regarding this recent discovery… coup more of the profits.’

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

"Cross! Come ‘ere!”

The old gravelly voice caught the younger man’s attention. Turning around to look at his father, still dressed in his grease and soot encrusted factory overalls, he noticed that he was carrying a data slate. Not wanting to keep his father waiting he ran quickly across the small courtyard that lay behind their house.

“It would seem you and your fellow delinquents have been given a job.”

“We’re not delinquents pop,” Cross said as he finally got close to his father. “I just choose to run with a gang instead of working the factory.”

“What’s wrong with working in the factory? It’s honest work.”

“There’s nothing wrong with it… I just want to get out and see something other than the smelting pots here in Hive City.”

Taking the data slate from his father Cross read it.

Directive from the office of House Orlock. To the faithful members of Smelting Dome 6796. You are hereby directed to provide your House with one gang of faithful men. They are to report to the local mayor fully equipped to accompany House Orlock representatives down hive. This is to take place immediately.


Signed,


Mayor Dentz

“Are you sure you want to send me Pop?” Cross said as he looked back into the face of his father.

“There’s no one else I would consider, make me proud. And, don’t call me Pop.”

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

Lusion paced back and forth. He could feel the eyes of his men on his back as he crossed the small room, each trying to discern what was going through their leader’s mind.

‘There is just no way to verify this source,’ the Delaque leader thought to himself. Turning around he walked slowly back to the other side of the make shift room he and his boys had set up down in the tunnels that had become their refuge. ‘Not while we are holed up down here.’

This continued on for several more minutes before anyone dared to say a word.

“Come on boss, what is it?” Shade finally asked. “I mean you call us down here and all we’ve done is sit and watch you walk back and forth.”

Lusion turned and looked each of his four subordinates, all that was left of a once might gang.

“Gentlemen,” he said pausing for affect. “It has come to my attention that a new dome has been discovered, and not far from where we stand.”

The Delaque raised his hand to quiet the murmuring that had jumped up among their small group.

“It is not a large find, and travel to and from is difficult for now, but it has promise.”

The news encouraged Logan. ‘Finally, a new start,’ he thought to himself.

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

Caldius strode confidently to the makeshift platform. He had a mission, and he was going to show these people the way, even if it killed them.

“Fellow citizens of the Undying Emperor! A new day is emerging.” He allowed his voice to trail off. When he was confident that he indeed had his audience’s full attention he continued.

“Citizens, I am banding men together to reclaim once what was once lost for the Emperor.”

Again he allowed his voice to trail off before continuing.

“I have been given sponsorship from among those who seek to share with all of Necromunda, the news, and purge those who would oppose the undying Emperor.”

Slowly raising his hands Caldius scanned the crowd as he had seen others do, “House Cawdor calls you forth to follow me on this mission. All who seek to share what we know come with me!”

And with that Caldius turned and decended from his pulpit. From among the two score of people who Caldius had actually drew attention, a small handful of men moved to follow the hooded man. From the balcony across the street two men, hooded and robed in orange, moved.

“He has passion, I’ll give him that,” the shorter of the two men said to the other.

“Hmm,” the second man nodded in agreement. “But passion will only take him so far. Unless he can learn how to stir the masses, how to share his passion, it will only take him so far.” Then the pair turned to leave. “And if he can’t inspire vision, then he will be of limited use to us.”

-=-=-=0=-=-=-
Part 2

Gorit growled loud enough that several of his ‘bodyguards’ actually turned their heads to look at him. The Guilders had graciously provided him with, “three of the Hive’s finest” to look after him. “Humph”, he grumbled again. ‘These dregs couldn’t fight their way out of a saloon at closing time,” the Goliath thought to himself.

For the past ten hours the three men, and one woman, stumbled their way through the tunnels that their Leader, Gorit liked the sound of that, had brought them to. The air was stagnant and reeked of a wide variety of unidentifiable odors that, combined with the very low levels of light available, made them all very nervous.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the tunnel had widened enough to accommodate a small town. Well, what once had been a town. Old stores and drinking holes lined the street. Some of the windows were boarded up, others were missing completely. Debris and sediment from age old sewage lined the streets, and there was not a sound to be heard.

A slightly rotund man, with his long beard twisted into twin braids, stopped short and held up his hand. He turned his head around so quickly that the braids and tails from his bandana flew straight out. “D’you hear that?”

The rest of the group stopped short and for several moments they all stood perfectly still. Just as a lithe female of the group, a well armed bounty hunter type, turned to chastise the bearded scummer, some dust and dirt skittered off a building at the far end of the street.

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

The scent of flesh things threatened to overwhelm its self control. For so long it had waited and now they were almost in reach.

As the flesh things moved closer it signaled the others to prepare to attack. One of the others could not wait and moved too soon, alerting the flash things. Now the targets know that it is near. It signaled the attack.

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

Gorit growled loudly. There was no way he was going to back down now. Not when he was so close to staking his claim to this dome.

Krank, one of the scummers hired to watch his back by the Guilders who were sponsoring him, had rushed ahead to inspect the falling dirt. He entered an old gambling den and was out of sight for several minutes when a flurry of gunfire erupted from within. The strobe of the gunfire within, lit up several of the windows, but didn’t reveal anything. When the gunfire stopped the street was quiet once more. The three others remained where they were waiting for Krank to come back and report what he had seen, but when nothing more was seen or heard for several more minutes they grew restless.

“Hey Vype,” Gorit called over to his female bounty hunter. “Why don’t cha go check out what’s up with Krank?”

“Stuff it muscle brain!” she spit back, never taking her eyes off the building her friend had disappeared into.

“Alright then, we’ll all go.” Gorit said.

The remaining two hired guns stared at their employer for a minute, not sure if they were supposed to believe him or not.

“You heard me! Move it!” And to emphasis his point he leveled his brand new shotgun at their backs.

The three of them approached the old den warily, weapons at the ready. There was no further indication of any movement and the silence was tormenting them. Even as they entered the front room the silence was over powering.

Several tables and chairs lay strewn about the room, as well several mummified corpses, the remnants of yesteryear. Krank was no where to be seen.

“Krank!” Gorit called out. “Not funny man!”

Vype edged closer to the far doorway, and Gorit just panned his shotgun around. The bearded scummer, Gorit had never bother to learn his name, moved to far side of the room. As he approached what used to be the bar he had to step over several corpses, and he was careful not to disturb their slumber. When he reached his objective he leaned over to look over the bar.

Gorit’s heart leapt into his throat as the rotund little man let out a blood curdling scream that defied his size and gender. Spinning to face the new threat Gorit saw his hireling being pulled over the bar and out of sight.

On instinct he began pumping solid slug shells into and through the bar in an attempt to kill whatever it was.

Vype also turned to face the threat. From her vantage point she could see behind the bar. The sight that met her eyes caused the veteran to hesitate. When she finally began to bring up her boltgun to bear something shot out from the far room and struck her in the left temple. She never even let out a scream.

That was all it took. Gorit broke and ran back out into the street.

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

The flesh things responded just as it had anticipated. It was good to feed once more, but it needed more. With a simple gesture the others began to pursue the survivor. It was only a matter of time.

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

Hivequake

They should have seen it coming. A month back it had rained for six days straight. Not just a light drizzle from a factory flushing its storage tanks somewhere above, No this was a torrential downpour.

The effluent rain drenched everything, and everyone, as it cascaded down from the Hive City factories somewhere above, and continued on to the depths below the Bifrost. In its wake slime coated everything, even things not directly in its path. The simple accumulation of condensation from the increased humidity made sure of that. There was more.

For the past three days reports from the habs just below the Bifrost showed an increase in Ripper Jacks, giant rats, and even a few large spiders moving into the area. When Chigger started to blast away with his shotgun at a scurrying rodent, right in the middle of ‘Happy Hour’, Ian new something wasn’t right. He just couldn’t put his finger on it. Then, six hours ago, the streets had gotten eerily quiet. There was no movement other than the occasional human. That was until three minutes ago.

For the past three minutes the entire hive felt like it was going to collapse right on top of their heads. The Bifrost swayed violently, and the crash of dishes and bottles of Wildsnake in the drinking hall could be heard all the way down into the “Steel Spider’s” lair.

Ian managed to get himself up on his hands and knees, and not knowing what else to do he quickly crawled underneath his long workbench along the back wall of his sickbay/hab-room, if for no other reason than to have something over his head that would protect him from all the dust falling from the ceiling. Amber was already there, her eyes open wide.

When the hive finally decided to stop shaking the two lovers crawled out from under their shelter to asses the damage. Tables had overturned, a few medical supplies had been spilled, but for the most part their little corner of the hive was intact.

“Is everyone OK?” Dyrke called from down the hall.

Ian could hear a few acknowledgements coming from the other “Spiders”, to which he added his own. Looking around the room, it was a mess, but there was no permanent damage.

“What the hell happened,” Ian said out loud.

Amber stared at him for a moment before replying. “Haven’t you ever experienced a hive quake before?”

“No,” Ian said as he picked up an overturned table. “How often does that happen?”

Amber thought about her reply as she continued to pick up the debris. “Often enough that you should know what it is.”

The rest of the time the two cleaned up in silence.

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

Within the darkness it felt the rumbling and sensed the import of the omen. Slowly it began to move. It had to know for sure. For over a century its mind dealt with the never ending torment. Now there was a chance that it would be able to feed once again.

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

Gorit stood back up and shook the dust off of his muscle bound body. His Goliath gang, the ‘Iron Mandibles’, had been down kicking in some heads at their mine when the hive quake had struck. When Scar told him to sit tight he had complained, after all he could do with a little recreation too. But now he couldn’t see where the entrance to mine used to be. As he reached out to start digging a large hole off to his right caught his attention out of the corner of his eye.

“Funny, I thought that shaft was over this way,” Gorit thought to himself.

As Gorit entered into the tunnel a cool breeze met his face. It was almost as if the hive itself was letting out a deep breath after holding it in for too long. The air was stale and constant, with a slight haze of dust.

Working his way deeper into the tunnel he realized that this was not the mine shaft he was looking for, rather it was an old rail line tunnel. Although the tunnel was pinched and partially collapsed in many places, there was ample room to maneuver.

After working his way over, under, around, and through the maze for over an hour it finally opened up into a huge dome. There was enough light from far off sources that Gorit could tell – this was the find of his life!

He returned to the entrance as fast as he could and without continuing the search for his missing companions, Gorit made a bee-line for the nearest settlement that was not a Goliath stronghold. He wanted to keep the profits of his new claim to himself.

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

It reminded itself to be patient. The flesh thing had gotten away before it could claim its prize. But it had waited for so long, and the stench of the thing filled its nostrils. Its patience was not strong.

The omen was true. The way was open. It would gather the others. Once they were all together, then they could move on and feed once more.

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

The group of Guilders had met in a hurry, so certain protocols had been bypassed. If the news was true an important opportunity presented itself. This was one of those once-in-a-lifetime deals, and none of these men wanted to miss out on it.

“This is truly an important discovery,” said the largest of the five. “We must move on this information now!” The others quickly nodded their agreement. “The problem is always in the details. How do we get our respective feet in the door? Before these parasites infest everything that is.”

The men quieted down as they each ran through various scenarios in their minds. A few times one of the men would look up, the others would look towards him, and then he would go back to his own thoughts without saying a word. This went on for several minutes. Finally the first man spoke up.

“I think I have an idea. We shall each ‘leak’ tidbits of this information, and also encourage our various contacts to move on it. Allow them to through their resources into the breach, so to speak, and then as they have subdued the area we can move in and set up our respective shops. For a cut of the profits of course.”

“Of course,” several of the others agreed. “But what of this ‘Gorit’? a small Guilder from the back asked, causing the other four to look around and down at him.

“That’s simple,” the first Guilder responded. “We will send him back first, in order to stake his claim we’ll tell him – maybe even hire a few scum as ‘bodyguards’ for protection.” The others chuckled at that last statement. “Who knows, maybe that little problem will take care of itself. If not, we will make… further adjustments down the road.”

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

The scent of the living filled its nostrils once more. It was true. After waiting for so long, it would finally be able to satisfy the ravenous hunger that had filled it every moment for over a century.

Slaughter House

Logan let out a long breath. The moisture that escaped quickly steamed up and dispersed into the surrounding air. A slight shiver ran through his body as he tried to keep warm.

Oh he had passed the trials to become a full fledged member of the Couriers, but that did not mean his fellow Delaque were bound to treat him much differently. After three years of being a full member he had not moved beyond being considered anything more than a juve. He had been assigned to keep tabs on the gang’s stock yard holdings. In this case it was a small processing plant that kept tab on a herd of twenty sump cattle. It was considered to be a step up from working the mushroom fields, but Logan did not see it all that differently.

He still had shovel slop, he was still treated like dung by all his neighbors, and he was always left behind when the gang went out. He was given marginal respect by those at the slaughter house, he was a gang member after all, but it was in name only.

Logan paced up and down the meat locker. With the dome being so close to the outer wall the heating systems were marginal at best. It was a simple matter to simply shut of the air handlers all together to keep the air temperatures cooler than the surrounding area. The fungus that grew on the walls served to renew what little oxygen that was required, as well as the phosphorus light that cast an eerie red glow on the hanging carcasses. It was a good place to get alone and clear his head – despite the stench that permeated everything. And today he needed to get his thoughts together.

‘They’re never going to trust me,’ Logan thought to himself. ‘With the exception of Lusion none of them even talk to me.’ Logan had reached the end of the row and turned back around to head back the other way.

‘I think I need to strike out on my own,’ he pondered. ‘At least I would know where I really stood.’

A loud explosion shook the floor beneath him almost knocking him to his knees. Logan instinctively drew his semi-automatic and headed out onto the factory floor.

As Logan emerged from the meat locker he looked around. Several muscle-bound Goliaths were moving around, shooting factory workers indiscriminately.

“AAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!”

Logan spun on his heals. A Savage bald headed Goliath was charging down on him, a massive two handed hammer poised over his left shoulder, yelling at the top of his lungs.

Logan threw his arms up, one in a vain attempt to stop the swing of the bludgeon, the other to bring his pistol to bear. Without thought his finger was squeezing the trigger as fast as the muscles could twitch. Several of the rounds struck home but the man did not even flinch as the hammer began its arc.

The last thing Logan remembered before everything went black was the sensation of sailing through the air. Not the actual impact of the Goliath’s weapon that sent him flying, but the sensation of weightlessness.

-=-=-=O=-=-=-

At the edge of the fog that clouded his mind Logan could hear the roar of insesent gun fire. With each staccato his head threatened to explode in pain. Slowly the clouds cleared enough for him to look around.

His hands and feet were bound with some kind of cord, and he was draped across someone’s shoulder. As his mind cleared he realized that the pain was not restricted to his head, his entire torso throbbed in unison with the pulses coursing through his brain.

“Dem Delaques sure can’t take their lumps.”

The source of the voice came from some where beyond his view.

“Scar says his boys have crushed da so called Couriers in his sector too.”

Logan craned his head to try and see who it was that was talking, but all he could see was the muscle bound back of whoever carried him like a sack of feed.

“Hey Largo, looks like that whelp your carrying is stirring.”

Logan felt his bearer spin slightly, first one way, then the other, in an attempt to look at Logan. It only made Logan’s head and body ache more.

“Where ya trying to go runt?”

Logan felt the voice rumble through his host. He could only groan in reply. Both of the Goliath laughed at Logan’s obvious discomfort.

“This should make you more comfortable.”

Logan felt the man whose shoulders he was slung across, shift his weight and then lunge backwards, slamming Logan against a bulkhead.

‘Strange,’ he thought to himself. ‘That should have hurt.’ And then the blanket of darkness washed over him again.

-=-=-=O=-=-=-

“Scar says this runt ain’t worth nothin’ to the guilders.”

As Logan’s mind began to rouse him from unconsciousness it also let him know that he was in a lot of pain. This time he didn’t try to look at who ever was talking. Instead he used the pain in his body to perform a mental inventory of what was still there. It was then he realized that he could not feel his arms and he almost panicked, but a line of pain across his back made him realize it was just because they were draped around a pole, which in turn was being used to hold him in a semi-upright position.

“Yea, but look at ‘im. He ain’t gonna be much use to us in da mines either.” A second voice chimed from somewhere else in the room.

“Well, he’ll either bulk up real quick, or we ain’t gotta worry about him escapin’ no more.”

The two men erupted in laughter. Logan’s head just swam, almost like it was no longer attached to his body.

Just as the darkness threatened to envelop him once more the door to the room burst in and fell off of its hinges. Logan struggled to raise his head and see what was happening.

Two men, two Delaques he had never seen before, burst through the door. One held a shotgun braced against his hip, the other had a plasma rifle pulled up into his shoulder. Both men were sending shot after shot through the air, and Logan could hear the grunts of his captors as they were both hit several times.

Logan’s mind had not yet grasped what was happening and he stared almost through his rescuers as the one with the plasma gun shouldered his weapon and knelt down next to him, while the man with the shotgun spun around to cover the doorway.

The man now kneeling next to him was speaking, Logan knew this because he could see the man’s mouth moving, but it was as if his voice was from a far off distance and lagged a half second behind.

“Lusion sent us to get you. He’s right out side.”

With considerable effort Logan nodded in reply while the man cut the cords that held his arms in place. Once the cords snapped Logan fell to his knees, and almost toppled over onto his face.

As the blood rushed back into his arms they screamed in pain. ‘Yup, they’re still there,’ Logan said to himself. He was still too incoherent for his mind to engage his mouth to release the scream that was now running through his brain.

Reaching down with one arm Logan’s rescuer now supported him as he practically carried him out of the room, with the shotgun wielding rescuer leading the way.

Just as the men had said Lusion stood on the other side of the door with a bolt pistol held at arms length in each hand, one in either direction.

“We need to get out of here, NOW! Blowing the door like that has probably drawn some unwanted attention, and we are in no position to hold these muscle brains off for very long.”

Lusion had a concerned look in his face as he looked at Logan.

“Here’s your stubber kid,” Lusion said as he handed Logan his familiar semi-automatic pistol. It felt incredibly heavy in his hands. “I’ve got your heirloom waiting for you back at out new home.” And with a final pat on his shoulder Lusion yelled for them to go.

Half walking, half being dragged, Logan followed the two other men down a short hallway, and then out into a familiar looking courtyard. Unceremoniously Logan was dumped over a short wall of a fountain, and then followed by the other two.

“Alright, down you go,” the man with the shotgun said as he hefted off a small grate in the bottom of the fountain. Logan looked down and groaned. This was not going to be easy.

-=-=-=O=-=-=-

“They’re all gone Logan.”

Logan tried to wrap his mind around what Lusion was trying to tell him.

“The ‘Iron Mandibles’ wiped the ‘Couriers’ out, we are all that is left Logan.”

Logan looked around the room. Lusion had introduced them all to him.

Shade, the Plasma Gun wielder, was the sole remaining tech. Yaris sported a lasgun and didn't talk much. Bartol seemed to revere his Shotgun, which he kept immaculate. That left Lusion, who Logan had known forver, and himself.

Five men. Only five. Out of, how many? The Couriers had once been at least forty strong, and now this was all that was left.

“And we have been forced down here,” Logan finally replied.

“These tunnels have served us for a long time. Krav never kept any maps of them, and he was careful to not use them very often. We should be safe down here,” Lusion said as he walked over to a corner where the small pile of the gangs precious belongings were stacked. “I believe you are going to want this before we begin to rebuild.

Lusion pulled out a sheathed sword from the pile. Logan’s mind flashed back to when he first found it after his mother’s death. As Lusion handed him the heirloom Logan ran his hands over the scabbard, feeling the ancient kill markings his mother had marked on it. With one hand he pulled the blade free from its home to look on the blade. The ancient letters etched into the steel almost cried out to him. “Death comes swiftly,” Logan said quietly to himself.

“Yes it does,” Lusion said, interrupting his thoughts. “And that is exactly what the ‘Tunnel Rats’ are going to inflict upon her enemies.”

-=-=-=O=-=-=-

Welcoming

Ian actually did a double take. From behind he didn’t recognize the woman sitting at the end of the bar, but Chigger was chatting up a storm with her and refilled her drink without hesitation.

Looking around the Bifrost Ian was a little troubled. Amber had arranged to meet him here after he had performed his tasks for Dyrke, the leader of the Steel Spiders, but he couldn’t see her anywhere. There was something about the woman’s hair though…

Chigger made eye contact with him and smiled, then waved for him to come over. Ian nodded and started over to the bar. There was something strangely familiar about the woman, he just couldn’t place it. When Ian got within three meters the woman spun around.

“I was beginning to wonder when you would show up,” Amber said smiling back at him.

Ian had been so distracted by his curiosity he had failed to notice the other tell-tale signs of who he was looking at. The sword slung across her back, the auto pistol strapped to her thigh, and not to mention the red hair pulled neatly back into ponytail.

“I, uh… I had to finish up… have you been waiting long?” Ian’s face flushed red.

Amber’s newly issued body glove was as form fitting as ever. Ian liked it much better than her old Escher rags.

For the next hour Ian and Amber just sat and talked. Even with the crowded common area, the Bifrost offered more privacy than the halls of the Spiders lair that lay beneath the bridge town. Even the room set aside for the Spiders within the drinking hall was no guarantee of seclusion. Here at least they could talk without the pretense of being alone, besides, Chigger assured them that their room would be available in just a couple of hours, so in the meantime the two of them just sat and enjoyed each others company.

Just as Chigger handed over the keys to the room to Ian, Dyrke spotted them.

“Amber, Ian, I have a couple of pairs of boots coming to see about joining the Spiders. I need the two of you to watch the room and make sure we are not disturbed.”

Dyrke didn’t even wait for a response from his subordinates; he just nodded to Chigger, asked for his usual, and stepped into Spider’s room. Amber looked at Ian, but what could they do? Their leader gave them a job to do and they were bound to do it.

Over the next two hours Ian and Amber stood outside the door while several men of various sizes and kit came and went. None of the visitors were allowed entrance unless they presented a small token that was stamped with an impression of a spider with an anvil symbol on its back. The whole time all Ian could think of was that what little time they had was slipping away.

Finally Dyrke emerged with two men in step behind him. One man carried a plain looking lasgun over one shoulder. His body glove was worn, and his hair disheveled, but the weapon was well kept. The other man had a much neater appearence. In a cross draw holster on the left side of his chest was a bolt pistol, and in his hands he supported a Plasma Rifle

“Spider’s,” Dyrke said as he addressed the two guards, “I want to introduce two new members to the fold. Xander,” Dyrke indicated with a nod to the first man,” comes from another team who recently… folded. Kordite here,” indicated with a motion of his thumb” comes down from Hive City. He’s going to be helping Boanerges in the shop. Ian, make sure he gets to where he needs to go. Amber, you take Xander and introduce him to Katan, he’ll take it from there.”

“Yes sir,” the two said in unison. Ian’s stomach sank. His carefully made plans to get alone with Amber would have to wait for another time.

Evolution

For three years, ever since his mother’s death, Logan longed for this day. Every day was a battle to survive. Sure Lusion protected him, but he had responsibilities to the Couriers and was often gone for long periods of time. The taunting and isolation never ceased, and after Kyra’s death he only had Lusion to talk to. Today he would prove himself. Today he would become a man.

Lusion had left him to “live his own life” and Logan had been allowed to remain in the one room hab he had shared with his mother. Looking around the small five by seven meter room he could almost see ghost images of what it had once been like. The piles of dirty dishes and trash had long since been removed, but Logan often longed to see them again.

Logan shook of the feelings of regret and moved over to the wall that held the few cabinets he was afforded. On one counter top lay the knife Lusion had given him, which felt like a lifetime ago. Next to that were an inadequate set of lock picks, a small optical pocket telescope, and a palm sized data slate. Each of these he placed in separate pockets of his brand new trench coat, a ‘gift’ so he would reflect the House he was joining. As he did this he looked at himself in the hazy reflection of the metal cabinets. He still looked out of place. Unlike his Delaque ‘brothers’ he still did not wear their distinctive dark-lensed goggles, and he still sported a full head of hair – which he had pulled back into a ponytail.

There was only one more thing to complete his preparations. Pulling the only chair he had in the room over Logan climbed up so he could reach his most treasured possession. It was right where he left it. Pulling it down he looked at it affectionately as he ran his fingers gently over the surface. He had found it after his mother’s death, and it was all he had left of her. Gently he slipped it under his trench coat and secured it.

Stepping back down off of the chair he looked at his image once more. Once he was satisfied he turned on his heels and headed out to meet his fate.

-=-=-=O=-=-=-

When Logan walked into the back room of the ‘Couriers’ gambling den he was ignored by everyone except Lusion. Other than his sponsor there were seven others. Kray, ‘the Couriers’ boss, almost appeared disgusted. The other six were three other juves and their respective sponsors.

“House Delaque is affording you a great opportunity, a chance to show your worth above just sweating out your lives in the factories or data broker shops.” The Delaque leader made eye contact with the other three juves before proceeding.

“Today you have each been assigned a task contained in these envelopes,” Kray paused long enough to hand the notes out. He made sure to hand Logan’s to Lusion instead of directly to him. “Each task works in conjunction with the other, but you are not to share with each other the specifics of your task. Cooperation is restricted to the limited contact you will have with the others.”

Each of the candidates looked around the room for further input. Lusion handed Logan his packet and encouraged him to open it up.

Logan felt along the edges of the envelope like he had been taught. Once he was satisfied there were no triggers he pulled out his knife and gingerly cut the envelope open. Turning it upside down he emptied the contents onto a nearby table. A small cartridge designed to fit into a standard Delaque data slate was sealed in a small plastic pouch, and a pile of powdered dust fell out.

Immediately looking up he saw Lusion nodding his head in approval. Logan could not help but smile at this small display of approval.

BANG! The small explosion that was mostly smoke and noise, but it got every one’s attention. One of the other juves was clutching his hand, a small burn mark showed that he had not been as cautious.

“Galcious, would you be so kind as to show your young protégé here to the medics?” was all Kray said until the juve and his sponsor left the room.

“House Delaque works hard to ensure her secrets do not fall into the wrong hands,” this time Kray looked straight at Logan. “It is not above us to booby-trap our own communiqués to ensure our secrets remain secrets.

“You have five days to complete your assigned tasks, and you are already a man short.” Kray turned around, pushed a concealed button on the wall behind him that opened up a small alcove. Contained within were several pistols.

“Our job is not without inherent danger. We work with a variety of tools, which you should already be acquainted with, but there are times when stealth and diplomacy needs to give way to good old fashioned brute force.” Their leader pulled three weapons from the cabinet and set them on the desk. He then invited the other two Delaque juves forward to choose. Once they were done he motioned for Logan to step forward, the first time the man even acknowledged Logan directly. The only weapon left was a semi-automatic handgun. Not a bad piece, but definitely not as useful as the las and auto pistol taken by the others. Logan nodded his thanks.

Logan looked over the weapon. It was in good shape, no rust and the slide operated smoothly and quietly. He dropped the magazine from the grip and inspected it. The magazine was fully loaded with thirteen rounds of ammunition. A function check of the weapon showed it to be in full working order.

“What are you waiting around here for?” Kray said indicating that the briefing was over and motioning for them all to leave. “You are not going to find what you are looking for here.”

Lusion escorted Logan a discreet distance from the building. “You have the skills Logan, if not the trust of Kray. The rest is up to you, you have learned everything you can from me. Don’t embarrass me.”

Logan just nodded his head and faded into the shadows.

-=-=-=O=-=-=-

For the past ten hours Logan sat hunched in the shadows of an attic that overlooked his target. A small ventilation grill allowed him to look out, but restricted anyone’s view in. Now he just needed to figure a way in.

It had taken him the better part of a day to climb all the way up hive to the outskirts of Hive City. The Enforcer gates were easily by-passed through the usual Delaque pathways. Factoring in how long it took him to get in place that gave him only two days, check that, a day and a half now, to get what he needed and safely back.

Pulling out his data slate Logan reviewed his test objectives once more. 1) Gain access into Vant Labs within the Van Saar district. 2) Secure the name of at least one security guard. 3) Perform objectives 1 & 2 without detection and return without compromise.

“Those other Juves had it easy,” Logan thought to himself. “All they had to do was get me safely into Hive City and then escort me back. Meanwhile I am the one who has to penetrate Van Saar without getting caught.”

Logan quietly sighed to himself. No need to worry about that now, especially since his mark just left the labs.

Logan had already planned his path out and it only took a moment to get into the street before his mark could get away. Like himself this fellow was in his early teens, most likely not any older than fifteen. It would be his best shot at being able to gain a confidence.

An odd thing was this guy was always looking over his shoulder. Logan thought for sure he had been spotted, especially when the kid ducked into a loud drinking hole. It would be easy to loose a tail in there.

Instead of following him through the front door Logan set about marking all the possible exits at street level.

The main door was covered by a Van Saar the size of your typical Goliath. “Doubt I will be able to enter that way,” he thought to himself. To the right rear lay another door. This one concealed in shadow and was tempting, but Logan was confident that the second door would be covered by another security measure. Entrance would have to be garnered from either below or above. And it might be a good idea to change his appearance as his Delaque issued trench coat would probably not earn him any merits either.

-=-=-=O=-=-=-
Part 2

Logan could not afford to travel far. To do so would allow his mark to exit unnoticed. Fortunately that would not be a problem because just then an obviously drunk Van Saar exited the front door and made his way on down the street. Logan watched the man with interest.

Fortunately his intended victim did not go far. When he stumbled to the end of the building he practically fell into the alleyway that separated the drinking hole with a block of habs on the left. Logan stayed in the shadows as he moved to see down the length of the alley.

Twenty meters up the cramped space the drunk man was hunched over on all fours. Even from here Logan could hear what the man was doing. This was the opportunity he was looking for.

Logan made ground level at the opposite end of the alley from the street, and his target was right where he last saw him. He was careful, even though the man was in no condition to pay attention to anything else. When he came into reach of the man Logan waited until he had finished with his last dry heave. As the man caught his breath Logan drove the pommel of knife into the base of the man’s skull, and the drunken Van Saar immediately collapsed in a heap.

Looking up and down the alleyway Logan made sure he had not been spotted. Once he felt secure he quickly relieved the man of the body glove all Van Saar wore. ‘Very comfortable’, Logan thought to himself as he slipped it on and cleaned it up.

Leaving his victim to wake up to his misery Logan climbed back up to the roof of his destination. Once there he secured his distinctive Delaque garb, along with his heirloom, and moved straight to the side entrance. His mark had been inside the building for fifteen minutes already and Logan began to worry that he would lose him. So it was with boldness he stepped through the side entrance of the drinking hole.

To Logan’s relief there were no bouncers, or visible security measures, in place there. Slipping through the small entranceway there was a small hallway with 3 doors on either side. Just beyond the doors it opened up into what he presumed to be a common area as it was noisy, but there was a curtain impeding his view.

Deciding the best way to not draw attention to himself Logan walked in as if he belonged there and stepped into the room boldly. The place was not too packed and he quickly spotted his mark, located by himself, at an electronic gambling device mounted to the wall. Scrounging through the pockets of his new disguise Logan found a few coins. Plopping down onto the stool adjacent to the young Van Saar he plopped the first coin into the slot and pushed a button. Nothing, “wonder what this is all about” Logan thought to himself out loud.

“The trick is to vary how many coins you drop in each time,” the young Van Saar said. The unusual openness caught Logan off guard.

Logan mumbled his thanks and took the last two coins out of his pocket and repeated the process. When the spinning barrels slowed to a stop loud music started blaring and lights started flashing, which was exactly what Logan had hoped to avoid. Feigning great joy he looked around the bar thinking everyone would be looking his way, but in truth no more than a few even noticed his good fortune.

“Wow, thanks,” Logan said turning to the Van Saar juve. “Hey, listen… I hate to admit this, but in truth I was hoping you might help me, seeing as we are about the same age… You see, I desperately need a job. But this should help,” Logan said holding up the handful of tokens from the tray. “Do you know where a juve like myself could find a job?”

“What do you mean?” The kid looked nervous.

“Well, my dad was recently killed in the explosion over at the Avery Munitions Works,” Logan had read about it in a local paper while he was casing the Labs. “It was just the two of us so now I need to get work before I get put in the labor corps and sent to the underhive.” Logan hoped that a sob story would help gain the kid’s trust.

“I don’t know…” the Van Saar hesitated.

“Aw, come on. I don’t care what it is. I’ll sweep floors; I’ll take out garbage, whatever it takes. I just don’t want to go down to the underhive.”

“Ok, I tell you what. Show up tomorrow, at this address,” the kid said as he scribbled on a napkin. “I will take you inside and introduce you to my father. The rest is up to you.”

“That is awesome! Man, I really appreciate this. Let me buy you a drink with my winnings. My name is Kryler by the way.” Logan said while reaching to shake hands with the Van Saar.

“Ian, my name is Ian Vants,” the kid replied and shook Logan’s hand.

-=-=-=O=-=-=-

Logan had not returned to his perch immediately after leaving the kid at the drinking hole. Just down the street he had to make one more contact. A simple matter, but it was necessary to wrap up the loose ends. It almost did not work. No one wanted to take a juve seriously, but the pocket full of Guilders from his winnings helped win over their confidence.

After that he went back and grabbed a little nap. He only allowed himself a brief one, but the debris digging into his back helped as well. When he did wake he focused on the exterior guard rotations and their patterns. He even say Ian arrive. Finally the time came for him to ‘arrive’ at the Lab.

Walking up to the door he was met by a muscular Van Saar. Logan quickly noted the man was armed with a plasma rifle and bolt pistol. “I am here to see Ian Vants. He told me to meet him here.”

The man peered at him suspiciously but spoke into some kind of microphone built into the collar of his bodysuit. “Wait over there,” the guard pointed across the street.

Logan did his best to not appear to be nervous, but he watched the man intently. There was the occasional exchange of communication with someone unseen, probably a central security center. About ten minutes later another guard; this one only armed with a Bolt Pistol emerged from the building and spoke with the first one. Then the first guard motioned for Logan to come back across the street.

“What do you want,” the new guard asked as Ian approached.

“Ian told me to meet him here. My name is Kryler and I am here for a job.”

The second guard mirrored the first’s reaction, but this time he was not told to wait across the street. When the front door opened again it was Ian who stepped through.

“What is it Garse? I am in the middle of a test.”

The second guard bent closer to Ian and whispered something. “No, he’s alright. He is just here for a janitorial position.”

Warily the guards let the two juves in. For the rest of the day Garse followed Logan around. It did not matter since he was not there to perform any kind of sabotage, just look around and get a mental map of the inside of the building.

It may not have been a hard job, but it was a whole lot better than working out in the fields. At the end of the day Ian found Logan collecting up some trash from the outer offices.

“I spoke with my Father. You should be hired on permanent within a week.” Ian said as he followed Logan out of the building. “Come on, let’s go grab some grub.”

As the two juves stepped from the doorway a well built woman approached. This one appeared to be a bounty hunter with House Escher connections. “Is one of you Kryler? She asked.

Ian took a half step back from Logan and looked like he was going to run away. Logan had noticed it without being obvious. This was good. A chance to make his break and he took off running.

The well armed woman was hot on his heals, but she did not draw a weapon. Instead she just hurled insults at him as the pair sped away from the Labs and Ian.

When Logan was satisfied he was out of sight of his mark and the guards from the Lab he pulled up and stepped into the doorway of a run down tenement. The bounty hunter easily caught up with him there.

“Thanks,” Logan said slightly out of breath. “Here is the balance of the money I owe you.”

As he handed over the small pouch full of credits Logan hesitated just a moment, “If any one asks, you handed me over the union house for the labor corps.”

“Whatever you say young Kryler,” the woman said snatching the bag from his hands. “But I would hope not too many people ask or else I will hunt you down myself,” she said with a smile. And with that she was gone.

-=-=-=O=-=-=-
Part 3

Logan was going against a cardinal rule. He was returning to the scene of his crime. Not to bask in his success, or to relive some thrill, but he had to get back the items he had left behind, specifically his heirloom. The trench coat and tools were easily replaced, but he was not going to get his mother back.

Just as he cleared the edge of the building’s roof he heard the heavy tread of an Enforcer patrol. His heart skipped a beat. If they had seen him climb the wall there would be no escape.

“This is where the woman said she found her husband. He had been beaten up, robbed, and stripped naked. From now on we patrol these alleyways once a shift, random rotation.”

Logan chanced a peak over the edge. Five Enforcers were right below him. Each man wore the distinctive black heavy armor of Lord Helmawr’s police force. The speaker was carrying a large shield and a holstered bolt pistol. One other man carried a similar shield but held a mace-like object in his free hand. Two others carried the distinctive shotguns at the ready, while the last man was carrying a flamer held low in both hands.

“Tritan, make sure the other patrols get the information.”

There was just a nod from the man wielding the flamer, and then they moved off towards the street.

Logan slowly exhaled and lowered his head back down. Once his heart beat was back to normal he crawled over to where he had left his package. It was still there, undisturbed. Looking down at the Van Saar body glove he hesitated. ‘There’s supposed to be some interesting tech and usefulness in these things’, he thought to himself. Leaving the disguise in place Logan pulled his trench coat on and returned his heirloom to its place underneath.

Another quick glance over the edge showed that the Enforcers had not returned so Logan slipped over to climb back down to the alley. Now to get back home undetected.

-=-=-=O=-=-=-

‘No one is here!’, Logan thought to himself and resisted the urge to panic. There was supposed to be someone here waiting for him, but the hallway was empty. Normally empty was good, but today was not a normal day.

Logan continued to walk down the hall as if he belonged there, but his heart was racing. Something was wrong and he didn’t know what. Not yet anyway. As he walked past the door the contact was supposed to be waiting for him at, he realized the door was wide open. Risking a glance inside as he walked past he saw that the room had been ransacked, but no sound came from the inside. Turning his attention back forward he continued to the stairwell at the far end of the hall and descended back to street level.

He was pissed. All his life he had to fight for things, but this was plain and simple abandonment. Checking his watch Logan thought to himself, ‘This is the time, and this is the place where, I am supposed to be’. When he got back he was going to have a few choice words for them and Kray. Right now he had more pressing matters to tend to.

Logan looked up and down the street. The market street was busy with all kinds of pedestrian traffic, and he was still deep inside Hive City. With all the people moving around it was impossible for him to tell if he had any kind of tail. With his contacts for his return trip absent he was going to have to go it alone.

This is one situation that his inexperience really worked against him. With the other two initiates running the insertion and extraction Logan had not paid attention to those details. There just hadn’t been enough time to review what he, and they, were supposed to do. Now he had to find a way back on his own.

Not wanting to draw too much attention Logan started walking again. The more he thought it over the more he realized he was just going to have to return the same way he had come across the wall. Not the smartest thing to do, especially if they had been detected coming up, but it was the only path that he knew of, available to him.

-=-=-=O=-=-=-

When he had first crawled through this conduit he felt secure, hidden, now all he felt was trapped. If he was being trailed he could not even turn his head to look behind him let alone return fire if he should come under attack. So he kept moving as fast as he could.

Originally this was a communication access ways. Long ago it was crammed full of wires and pneumatic tubes to carry communications between the spire and Hive City, but as Hive: Primus grew so did the spire, and so did Hive City, leaving behind domes no longer seen as useful. House Delaque simply rerouted choice lines of communications, with some slight modifications Logan was sure, and created a tunnel to use as a means to move between domes. In this case it actually provided a portal across the wall the separated Hive City from the unruly Under Hive.

When he reached the end of the tube Logan paused to listen, both to see if there was anything waiting for him on his exit, and to try and determine if he was being followed. Once he was satisfied he climbed out and stepped down onto the secluded hallway. He was now in an abandoned central communications office. Although the lower levels had been reclaimed as improvised habs and below them a café specializing in rat burgers, the Delaque had taken great care to ensure this entrance was hidden. He would have to wait until late into the night cycle before leaving.

Once more he waited covering the entrance to the conduit in case he was followed. Once he was satisfied he checked the time. He still had eight hours to return with the information. With nothing left to do he allowed himself one more brief nap.

-=-=-=O=-=-=-

“You’re late!”

Logan checked his watch. “No sir, I am not. I still have ninety minutes left.”

Krav checked his own watch and nodded. “You are correct, good job. I would like to ask you where your compatriots are.”

Logan looked between the leader of the ‘Couriers’ and Lusion. “They were not at the meeting place. When I arrived they were gone, I had thought they returned here.”

“You thought wrong! They were your responsibility! Why did you abandon them?” Krav was visibly upset at this point.

“Sir, per ‘The Book of Shadows’ my first responsibility was to return with the information I gathered. Since my mission was one of reconnaissance and stealth, I mean.”

“Excellent Logan that was once again the correct answer, what do you have for me?”

For the next half hour Logan was debriefed. Once Krav was sure that his young initiate had left nothing out he let him go. Once outside their leader’s room Lusion pulled him aside once more.

“Don’t get comfortable Logan. Krav still sees you as an outsider and he will not trust you. He still sees you as a Mavant, a male Escher weakling. He has only placated me this far because I am one of his Lieutenants, and I have only done this in the memory of what your mother did for me. You are a member of the ‘Couriers’ now. I have done everything I can for you, but do not expect me to come protecting you any more. You’re a man now, and a man has to know how to defend himself.” Without waiting for any reply his sponsor turned around and walked off, leaving Logan to his thoughts and to return to his hab.

Honor Debt

Ten long dreary years, ten years of not seeing her home, ten years of not seeing her friends, and ten years of no hope of returning to what she once knew. The temptation to just lay in bed for the rest of the day was strong, but she knew that she had obligations, and those would not wait.

Kyra rolled over on her side, sat up, and stretched. Looking down at her right arm she inspected the servos and gears that had replaced everything below her right elbow. It would appear that her success would not equal that of her old Matriarch, and she sighed. She was satisfied as she listened to the whir of machinery when the fingers were flexed. It was not a Van Saar model, but it worked.

Looking around her hab it was a wreck. Crushed out tox-sticks, a nasty habit that most of her current ‘family’ indulged in, lay everywhere. Empty bottles of Wildsnake and dishes, some still with food on them, also were strewn about the place.

“At least I have a place to call my own,” Kyra thought to herself. Most of them have to share rooms.

Behind her a form stirred to get out from under the blankets. Kyra smiled and turned around.

“Morning Logan, did you sleep well?”

“You move around too much,” the emerging head said.

Slowly a young man, maybe nine or ten, stirred to life. He rubbed his head and looked around and wondered if he had slept through yet another ‘meeting’ his mother always held in their one room hab.

Out of nowhere the boy asked, “Mom, why do we live here? I mean, why can’t we live among those who are like us?”

A gentle smile creased Kyra’s weary face. “Because these people took us in when we had no where else to go. I owe them my life.”

Even though he did not understand, the boy nodded his head as if he did.

“Well, I need to get going,” Kyra said as she strapped her pistol holster to her thigh, just above the edge of her very, very long boots. “Clean this place up Logan; I’ll be back after my shift.” And like that she was gone, off to who knew where. Although she worked at their ‘benefactors’ gambling den as a table dealer, she often held secondary jobs in the evening to make ends meet. Their hosts often came down on the two of them hard, especially since they remained strangers among them. “Some haven,” he thought to himself.

Logan looked around the room. He too had to get out the door to work. Since he was not considered worthy Logan was not allowed to attend the trade schools of his ‘brothers’. Instead he was put to work in the nutrient fields. A few months back ‘The Couriers’ had cleared out a small band of Scavvies that had occupied a small dome where septic lines from who knows where above, dumped into. Although it was incredibly noxious, the deposits were rich in nutrients and had fertilized large patches of ground. Mushrooms, and other underhive crops, thrived there. Not wanting to waste their own manpower Logan was pressed into service in the fields, along with others, to harvest the bounty. Then their hosts would come along and take their ‘fair share’, which always seemed to be most of it.

Still, Logan was able to see a lot that went on around him. For example, he knew ‘The Couriers’ were a very large Delaque gang, perhaps fifty or more in number. They had a lot of connections up hive (he knew this because they were always dressed very well – meaning in clean clothes), and they dealt directly with Guilders. When his work for the day was done, usually after fourteen hours out in the fields, he headed back to the hab block.

Back on the block he continued to watch the other kids. It was the only thing he could do since he was never allowed to join in their activities. The other kids shunned him because he was different. Logan and his mother were the only ones in the whole hab block that had hair and did not wear the dark-lensed goggles. It did not matter the age, all of the Delaque looked the same to him. Today was different though. His mother was going to be home early, or so she said. So, despite being bone weary from working all day, he set to work cleaning up the hab he shared with his mother.

-=-=-=O=-=-=-

“Quiet, you’ll wake him.”

Logan woke, but did not stir. It was his mother... and someone else.

“He’s alright. He never wakes up, come on we have things to discuss.”

Logan recognized the voice. It was man known as ‘Lusion’, a member of the “Couriers”.

“There’s nothing to discuss ‘Lus’. Krav would never allow you to be joined with a woman from House Escher.”

“But you are not Escher anymore, you’re Delaque.”

Logan noticeably cringed under the covers. He knew his mother was proud to be an Escher. A point that had caused them both considerable inconvenience, but she was proud and would never back down.

“I am Escher, I will always be Escher. Just because I have come to see you men as equals does not make me any less Escher. I still know how to handle myself; you would be wise to not forget that... again.”

“Easy, easy. I meant no offense.”

The sound of distant gunfire broke the tension. Without thinking Logan looked over the edge of the blankets to look toward the door. His mother had her auto pistol gripped tightly in her artificial hand while Lusion gripped a bolt pistol in his left. The pair moved to the door and threw it open. Lusion was through first, followed quickly by his mother.

“Stay in here Logan, no matter what.”

Logan just nodded, but had no intention of sitting still. He waited for a full minute before getting out of bed. Once up and moving he crossed over to where his work clothes were dumped in the corner. Reaching under the pile he found what he was looking for, a thirty centimeter long knife that Lusion had given him for his ninth birthday. It was a simple design with a synth-leather grip and a snakehead shaped pommel.

Drawing out his prize Logan crept out onto the walkway that joined their hab unit with all the others along the exterior wall. It overlooked a large clearing five floors below that had once held a fountain. It was now nothing more than a plascrete circle.

Down below twenty or so Goliaths, easily identifiable by their sheer mass, moved into the square, hooting and hollering, and shooting their weapons in random directions. One autogun round ricocheted off the wall three meters to Logan’s right.

Logan was transfixed by the chaos below as Delaque responding to the invasion of their territory flooded into the far side of the clearing. Once the battle was joined it was impossible to isolate individuals, except for his mother. Her long blue hair and lighter color clothing making her easily distinguishable among the throng.

It seemed like she was everywhere. Logan had never seen her move like that. It was as if everyone else was in slow motion, but then time seemed to freeze.

A monster of a man wielding what looked like a mill wheel as a club charged forward. Logan realized that it was Lusion who faced this thing now, but the Delaque seemed transfixed with fear and was not responding to his impending doom.

Finally, as the man-mountain closed the final few meters, Lusion started to raise his Bolt Pistol, but there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that it was too little too late.

As the massive club began to fall Kyra darted in and knocked Lusion out of its path. The club was not going to stop until it hit something, and it hit Kyra heavily on the shoulder. Logan could hear his mother’s painful cry from here. In the blink of an eye though she was back on her feet, her left arm hanging limp, but her right hand still gripped her auto pistol.

Both combatants began to move simultaneously, both screaming at the top of their lungs as they tried to best the other. Kyra beat the Goliath by a split second, her finger squeezed tightly on the trigger sending a stream of bullets impacting up and down the torso of the raging man. But once a mass is in motion it cannot be stopped until the energy has been completely consumed. And there was a lot of energy in the movement of that giant club, and it caught Kyra full force across her torso. The impact tossed the petite woman aside as child would discard a rag doll.

Before the woman’s body slumped to the ground Logan was up and running for the stairs. It took forever to reach the ground level. When he did the battle was over, but he did not notice, he was across the yard and leaning over his mother’s broken body. The woman’s neck and head were at an odd angle, and there were already deep purple marks across her upper body and face.

Try as he might he could not get her to respond to his cries.

“Stand up boy,” Lusion said as he stood from the other side of Kyra’s body. “She is gone, and there is nothing you can do about it.”

Logan looked up and wiped the tears from his cheeks, not knowing what to say or do. Slowly he lowered his mother’s body to the ground and stood up.

“The hospitality we extended to your mother is supposed to end with her.” The Delaque let that sink in before he continued. “But I want you to know... you have my word that I will watch over you in honor of what Kyra did for me. It is a matter of honor.”

“I thought the Delaque had no honor,” Logan thought to himself.

The Past

“What have you gone and done Kyra?” The tall muscular woman stood from behind her desk and moved around to the front so she could address the woman more directly. She was a full two meters tall, slight patch of grey tinted the front of her Mohawk, which she wore with pride. It was rare for a gang leader to live to old age and this Escher not only managed to see her grey hair come in, she did not have any bionic augmentation or debilitating injuries. Sure there were plenty of scars to boast about, but for the most part this woman was whole. Such success gave her a lot of respect. Not just with the elders of House Escher, but within her own gang as well. And it was the internal matters of the latter that drew her attention now.

The woman set before her was not as tall, or as muscular, but her frame and build lent for a more agile appearance. Where her Matriarch was thick, she was wiry. Where her leader was purposeful in her step the subordinate was light of foot. The young woman, Kyra, dared to raise her eyes as her Matriarch came around the corner of her desk.

“How could you have been so stupid?” The elder said as she sat on the edge of the desk.

Kyra dropped her eyes back to the floor at the reproach. It had all been a mistake. Well, not really. When it all began it was with her head up, eyes open, and with a head full of steam and wild abandon. It was not like anything she had ever done before. As a matter of fact it was exactly the kind of thing she had always managed to avoid in the past.

“So, you know what you have to do. There cannot be any question. You need to correct this, and the sooner the better. I know just…”

“But,” Kyra interrupted as she raised her head to look into her leader’s eyes. “I am not so sure that I want to, ‘correct’, it.”

The older Escher woman just starred at her Lieutenant for a long moment.

“You are not sanctioned by the House. How do you propose to conclude this endeavor?”

Kyra frowned. She had not considered that and it came crashing down upon her mind. If this ‘endeavor’, as Pandora put it, worked through to the logical conclusion, she faced exile. Not just from her gang, but from House Escher as well.

“I… I… hadn’t thought about that.”

“Well, it is too late to worry about the past. We need to look to the future now.” The older woman tore off the corner of some scrap piece of paper that littered her desk and scribbled something on it. “Go and see Vera, have her review the situation. She will provide you with the options. Say nothing else, but return back here immediately after.” Pandora took a moment to gauge if her Lieutenant was paying attention or dismissing her advice. “Once you return we will discuss what you plan to do. I want you to know that I will assist you… no matter what you decide.

-=-=-=O=-=-=-

Four hours later Kyra returned, her shoulders slumped as if she bore a heavy burden, to Pandora’s office. Kyra’s mind was racing so fast that she did not hear Pandora the first time she greeted her.

“Kyra!” the gang leader shouted, finally gaining her subordinate’s attention. “What did Vera have to say?”

“She said that there were no alternatives. The process would have to be aborted immediately.” As soon as Kyra said those words a wave of emotions flooded over her. Emotions she had not allowed herself to feel since her days as a juve. “She said since I was not a sanctioned Matern it is not permitted for me to see this through to completion.” She was fighting her emotions with all her strength. Looking up, Kyra sought her Leader’s approval. She wanted to know what Pandora had to say.

“And what do you want? Do you going to see this all the way through, or are you going to follow Vera’s, and thus House Escher’s, recommendations? Now that Vera knows there is no putting off the decision any longer. Our sisters in Hive City probably know already. I can see that you get transferred to the Matern offices. I am sure you would be well taken care of.”

“The gangs have all I’ve ever known. I doubt that I would be well received, comfortable or not. I’d probably revert to my more, ‘aggressive’ tendencies. No, I want to see this through. I may not have realized I was heading down this path when I started, but I started willingly and I plan to take it all the way.” Kyra said standing up, bracing herself for her leader’s reprisal. But it never came.

“Then you are going to need a few things, come with me.” And with that Pandora led her out of her office.

-=-=-=O=-=-=-

Kyra had no idea what to expect, or where Pandora was leading her. Her little venture was not known to anyone but the two of them, but these things do not remain a secret for long. And unless you have the censure of the ruling house you can bet that un-sponsored endeavors will be cancelled at the next earliest convenience – and the originator could expect nothing short of an unpleasant end.

“Kyra! Pay attention!” the young Lieutenant had drifted off into her own thoughts and not heard her Matriarch addressing her.

“You will meet with my contact at ‘The Jolly Sump’. Take this guilder, it is coated with a special chemical that will only be visible to who you need to meet, and she will know what to do.”

Kyra looked up into Pandora’s eyes. She was searching to see if there was any indication if this was the end for her, but her boss was impossible to read.

“When will I be able to come back?” Kyra finally asked.

“When you have seen your mission through and not before. You entered into this business on your own, and now you will see it through on your own.” The elder said as she put a reassuring hand on her arm. “You will make it through this.”

And with that Pandora turned around and left Kyra to gather her things. Kyra just watched her leave and then stared at the door for several minutes that closed behind her Matriarch. It was only as she looked around her small room that she realized that there really was not much to take.

An ornate broach presented to her from Pandora when she was made Lieutenant, a few hair pieces and dyes, a few changes of clothes, a simple auto pistol, but the one thing she prized above all things was an ornately decorated sword presented to her by her mother when she was accepted in to Pandora’s gang – the Prowlers.

She hefted up the light sword. It weighed only two kilograms and was a mere one and a half meters in length. Not all that imposing in size but it had served her very well, which she was reminded of as she eyed the score of kills marks etched into the sturdy hard synth-leather scabbard. She slowly drew the blade from its resting place to look upon the etchings in the blade itself. Ancient characters spelled out “Death comes swiftly”, at least that what she was told. She could read Necro-Gothic, but these characters were nothing she had ever seen before, but they were beautiful. She slid the ornate blade gently back into its sheath and slung it over her shoulder. Slipping the auto pistol into the holster strapped to her thigh and throwing her small backpack she turned on her heals and headed off to meet her fate just as readily as she had begun this chapter of her life.

-=-=-=O=-=-=-

“The Round Sump” was busier than usual. Located in the dead center of “Davin’s Deep”, an old miner’s camp, it was not known for its atmosphere. The patrons of this particular watering hole only wanted one thing, and that was to forget their troubles. What attracted ‘The Prowlers’ to the Sump was that it was owned by a particularly tough woman known as Grenda. Even though she was not Escher born, she had proved often enough that she could deal with even Goliath-like troubles.

Kyra looked around. All of the tables deep in shadow were taken, as was to be expected this far from Hive City, so she took an empty stool located at the far end of the bar.

As she sat down on the stool Kyra placed the guilder coin she received from Pandora on the bar, then flagged down the barkeep to order a glass of Wildsnake. As she waited she patted the bar nervously.

Grenda was fast tonight and set the glass down in front of her latest patron. Almost before Kyra realized it the barkeep was scooping up the guilder.

“No, wait!” Kyra practically shouted. “I mean, her take this one,” she said reaching into a pocket on her vest. “That’s my luck charm.”

Grenda just shook her head and dropped the old coin back on the counter and walked away. In her nervous state Kyra picked up the glass and gulped down the foul beverage, worm and all.

“Should you be doing that in your situation?”

Kyra spun around to see who was speaking to her. The person who was now standing just behind her stood just shy of one and three quarters of a meter tall, and dressed in a long trench coat with no other visible clothing. It was impossible to determine the speaker’s sex as the trench coat covered any distinguishing features, and the person’s head was completely bald. Kyra could not even look into the speaker’s eyes as they were completely covered with rectangular shaped, deeply tinted, goggles.

“When one is fleeing for their life, is it wise to consume intoxicating beverages?” The speaker spoke again pulling Kyra back to the situation at hand.

“Excuse me. Do I know you, and what business is it of yours?”

“I believe we have a common acquaintance, Pandora. Yes?”

Kyra eyed the stranger up and down. She, or possibly a he, was definitely from the Delaque, and they were not generally known for their trustworthiness.

Seeing the distrust in Kyra’s eyes the stranger pulled a guilder coin from a pocket in the trench coat. Placing it next to Kyra’s guilder it became obvious that the two fit together like pieces in a puzzle.

“If you want to make it out of here you need to follow me. I have already made arrangements.”

Without hesitation Kyra dropped in behind the stranger and left “The Round Sump” to begin the rest of her life.

-=-=-=O=-=-=-