Caelan stared.
Children. Real, live, filthy, terrified children. They were clinging to the leg of his gore-soaked murder machine like it was a safety blanket. His grand plan of securing a base, farming points, and living in isolated, cowardly splendor had just been derailed by two tiny, sniveling logistical nightmares. What was he supposed to do with them? Feed them? Talk to them? He didn't even like his cousins.
He stood there, frozen in the doorway of his 'throne room', the stale air thick with the smell of blood and dust. The two kids looked at him with huge, fearful eyes. His mind was a blank slate, the gears grinding to a screeching halt.
[Administrator is displaying cognitive dissonance. The introduction of dependents has caused a fatal error in the 'Hide and Let the Robot Do Everything' protocol. Rebooting...]
Shut up! Caelan snarled internally at the System, his face twitching. I'm... formulating a response!
[Of course, Administrator. My apologies. The fate of these young lives hangs in the balance of your renowned and sagacious... formulation.]
The System's silent mockery was almost as unnerving as the situation at hand. While Caelan was having his internal meltdown, Primus was processing the new variable with cold, brutal logic. His crimson lenses stayed fixed on the children, his head tilting. A faint whirring sound came from his helmet as his auto-senses scanned them, analyzing them for any sign of mutation or corruption invisible to the mortal eye. He detected none, yet their survival in this environment was an anomaly. Anomalies were suspect.
Slowly, deliberately, he raised his Cawl-pattern Bolt Rifle. The barrel, wide enough to swallow a man's fist, leveled until it was pointing directly at the children's heads. Leo let out a choked gasp, shielding his sister with his body. Maya buried her face deeper into Primus's ceramite shin, oblivious that the very thing she saw as a shield was now her judge.
"My Lord," Primus's voice was utterly calm, devoid of malice. It was the tone of a professional offering a practical solution. "These life forms are an unknown quantity. They could be carriers of subtle contagion, agents of the Archenemy, or genetic deviants. To ensure the sanctity of your new domain, the most logical course of action is pre-emptive purification. Shall I purge them?"
The question—Shall I murder these two terrified children?—slammed into Caelan's consciousness with the force of a physical blow. It snapped him out of his paralysis.
"NO!" The word burst from him, loud and sharp. He stepped forward, his heart hammering. "No, Primus! Do not harm them! They're... they're children! Innocents! They are under my protection!"
He felt a genuine surge of panic, of horror at what had almost happened. It was one thing to watch zombies get eviscerated. They weren't people anymore. But this… this was a line he hadn't even considered.
Caelan straightened up, forcing himself to adopt a commanding posture. He draped his cheap chains more prominently over his chest and pointed a finger with his tacky, oversized ring towards the main store. "Your orders have changed! Primus, you will see to the... sanitation of this facility. The bodies. I want them removed. Pile them outside, burn them, I don't care. And seal the entrances. Reinforce every door, every window. Make this place a fortress! Yes, a fortress! Go!"
Primus stared at him for a long moment, the bolt rifle still raised. Caelan's heart skipped a beat. Was he going to disobey? Then, with a smooth hiss of servos, the rifle was lowered.
"As you command, My Lord." Primus gave the children one last, long look, then turned and marched into the gloom of the store, his heavy footfalls echoing his new purpose.
Caelan let out a shuddering breath, his knees suddenly feeling weak. He turned his attention to the kids, who were still staring at him, their expressions a mixture of terror and confusion. He had to play the part. He was the Lord Administrator, the Almighty Emperor of this mall.
He puffed out his chest and spoke in his deepest, most lordly voice. "Fear not, little ones. You are safe now. You are in the presence of..." he paused for dramatic effect, "...Me. Stay here."
Without another word, he turned on his heel, strode back into his security office, and slammed the door shut, leaving the two bewildered children standing alone in the vast, corpse-littered aisle. He leaned against the door, his entire body trembling. That was too close. Way too close. He needed more. More help. More... security.
He pulled up the Requisition menu in his mind. [Current Requisition Points: 297]. Not enough for another fifty guardsmen. But enough for more of him.
[Requisition: Adeptus Astartes Battle-Brother (Unassigned). Cost: 100 Points.]
Do it, he thought frantically. Again.
[Requisition: Adeptus Astartes Battle-Brother (Unassigned). Cost: 100 Points.]
He felt the points drain away, a significant chunk of his hard-earned "farm."
I also need ammo, he realized. Primus used his bolts. That has to be refilled.
He found it in a sub-menu under 'Logistics and Supplies'.
[Requisition: Ammunition Crate (Bolt Caliber). Standard Loadout. Cost: 10 Points.]
He confirmed the purchase.
[Total Cost: 210 Requisition Points.]
[Remaining Requisition Points: 87]
A swirling vortex of golden light erupted in the tiny security office, twice. The air crackled, smelling of ozone and promethium. When the light faded, two more gunmetal-grey giants stood there, their sheer bulk making the room feel like a sardine can. They immediately dropped to one knee, their helmeted heads bowed.
"My Lord," they intoned in perfect, emotionless unison.
Caelan, regaining his composure, pointed at the first one. "You are Secundus. The second." He then pointed to the other. "And you are Tertius. The third. A crate of ammunition should have arrived with you." A dull metal crate, stamped with the Aquila, sat at their feet. "Secundus, take that crate to Primus and assist him in his duties. Fortify this place."
"It will be done, My Lord." Secundus rose, hefted the heavy crate as if it were cardboard, and departed the office.
Caelan then looked at Tertius. "Tertius. I want you to go outside. Beyond our walls. Expand the perimeter. Purge any unclean you find. Start building barricades at the approaches to this mall. Use whatever looks sturdy."
"Understood, My Lord." Tertius rose and strode out, his chainsword roaring to life as he crossed the threshold, the sound receding as he marched towards the broken main entrance.
Feeling vastly more secure with three demigods under his command, Caelan smoothed down his t-shirt, readjusted his chains, and exited his office once more. He saw the kids huddled by the door, exactly where he'd left them. He ignored them for a moment and walked over to the security console. To his surprise, a faint hum indicated a backup generator was still running. He flicked a few switches, and a bank of monitors sputtered to life, displaying static-filled feeds from dead cameras. He sat down and began tapping randomly at the keyboard, feigning intense, critical work.
After a few minutes of this charade, he swiveled in his chair and looked down at the children. "The initial threat is contained," he announced loftily. "This mall is now clean. Primus will inform you if any danger arises. Now," he gestured expansively towards the darkened aisles, "go. Find sustenance. Food. Drink. Whatever you need. Your lord is magnanimous."
He then turned back to his screen of static, leaving the two children to process the terrifying generosity of their bizarre, gangster-looking savior.