Chapter 37: PURGE!
Kian Voss sprinted into the Grand Sump-Lift just as the gargantuan plasteel doors ground shut with a thunderous boom, severing the worried gaze of Lieutenant Rudolphson.
The moment he was inside, Kian began scanning the sea of prisoners. He spotted a familiar face and began waving frantically.
"Joel! Joel! Over here! Look at me!"
Little Joel's family consisted of five souls: his father, his mother, Joel himself, a younger brother, and a sister. But looking at the huddle, the sister was missing—presumably hidden away in the Mid-Hive or sold to another guild to spare her this fate.
Joel sat in a mechanical wheelchair, his face the color of cold ash. He had lost all control of his lower body; he couldn't even manage his own basic functions anymore. His parents looked like walking corpses, their spirits broken by the sudden fall from grace. The younger brother, barely ten years old, was sobbing uncontrollably, already sensing the predatory hunger waiting for them at the bottom of the shaft.
Joel heard a familiar voice and slowly lifted his head. When he saw Kian waving from beyond the Enforcer cordons, a spark of life returned to his hollow eyes.
"Master... Master Voss!!"
He tried to push his wheelchair toward Kian, but his father grabbed the frame, pulling him back.
"Don't! Stay down!" his father hissed in terror. "You'll draw the shock-mauls!"
The father had already tasted the Enforcers' "justice" during the eviction. In the 41st Millennium, "civilized law enforcement" was a myth. One Enforcer noticed the shouting and raised a glowing electric baton. When Joel went silent, the law-dog let out a derisive snort and lowered the weapon.
Joel could only watch Kian through a veil of tears, too terrified to speak.
Kian's eyes narrowed. He pulled out a pack of Lho-sticks, intending to bribe his way toward the family so they could exit with the "Safe Zone" workers.
The interior of the Sump-Lift was divided. One small, guarded area was reserved for Guild technicians and workers. When the doors opened, these "Cogs" would walk out calmly and head to their stations. Only after they were clear would the Enforcers release the "Dispossessed."
The Underhive rats knew better than to touch the Guild staff. They would wait for the technicians to leave, then swarm the debtors like sharks in a blood-pool. Kian wanted to pull Joel's family into the "Protected" group.
He took one step toward the Enforcer line. He hadn't even opened his mouth when the Enforcer swung his shock-maul with a violent crack of ozone.
Kian performed a reflexive backstep, the head of the mace whistling past his nose. The Enforcer immediately leveled a Suppression-Pattern Scattergun at his chest.
"One more step, Scav-rat, and I'll turn you into a sieve! Get back with the workers!"
Seeing the cold, unblinking lenses of the Enforcer's helmet, Kian realized there was no negotiating. These men weren't PDF; they were the hard-line tools of the Spire. He stepped back into the worker's circle and waited, his hand gripping the grip of his autogun beneath his rags.
Minutes later, a heavy clunk echoed through the platform. The descent stopped. The vox-casters blared:
"Arrival at Sump-Level imminent. Machine Spirit stabilized. Disembarkation protocols engaged. Praise the Master of Mankind."
The massive blast doors hissed open, revealing a nightmare. Thousands of Underhive dregs were packed into the plaza, their eyes glowing with a feverish, predatory greed. They looked at the shackled prisoners like a butcher looks at a side of grox-meat. They whistled, jeered, and openly discussed which parts of the "Spire-meat" they would eat first.
The prisoners wailed for mercy. The Enforcers responded by smashing mauls into ribs and skulls, drawing cheers from the mob.
The hundred or so Guild workers walked off the lift with practiced indifference. Not a single "rat" dared block their path.
Once the workers were clear, the Enforcers began the "Audit." They unlocked the shackles and used their shock-prods to drive the prisoners off the platform. It was a chaotic, violent mess. People were trampled. Many were shocked into unconsciousness, their bodies twitching in the filth.
Joel's family didn't escape. An Enforcer jabbed the father in the kidneys and the mother in the neck. The whole family collapsed into a heap of twitching limbs.
The moment the Enforcers cleared the platform and the lift began its ascent back to the light, Kian Voss exploded into motion.
He lunged through the crowd of exiting prisoners and reached Joel's father. He began delivering sharp, heavy-handed slaps to the man's face.
"Get up! Stand the hell up! You want to die?! Get up!"
He dug his thumb into the man's philtrum, a brutal nerve-pinch to override the electrical shock. It worked. The father gasped, his eyes snapping open in a daze.
Kian didn't give him time to think. He pointed at Joel. "Push the chair! Stay behind me! If you lose sight of my back, you're dead meat!"
He scrambled to the mother, performing the same brutal revival. He snatched the younger brother and shoved him into the mother's arms.
"FOLLOW ME! NOW!"
The lift had vanished into the ceiling. The thousands of Underhive rats let out a collective, bloodthirsty howl and surged forward.
Kian Voss drew the PDF-issue Autogun. He didn't aim for the legs. He didn't fire warning shots. He leveled the barrel at the center of the charging mass and held the trigger down.
"BLOOD FOR THE SPACE KING!" Kian roared.
DA-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA!!
The PDF rifle was a high-caliber beast. At this range, the heavy slugs didn't just stop people; they over-penetrated. Each bullet tore through three, sometimes four unarmored bodies before slowing down.
The frontline of the mob simply evaporated. Heads popped like overripe fruit; torsos were hollowed out by the kinetic force of the Imperial lead. In three seconds, Kian emptied a thirty-round magazine.
He had killed at least sixty people in a single burst.
The mob froze. They were used to fighting with pipes and rusted knives. They weren't used to a lone man wielding military-grade hardware with the cold eyes of an executioner. The sudden silence was filled only with the wet sounds of the dying and the rhythmic clack of Kian swapping magazines with "Tarkov" speed.
He leveled the rifle again.
DA-DA-DA-DA-DA!!
Another dozen rats dropped. The crowd began to wail, but this time in terror, pushing back against their own weight to get away from the muzzle flash.
Kian spun around, his face a mask of gore and fury, and looked at Joel's parents, who were frozen in shock.
"DAMN IT!! If you want to die, stay there! If you want to live, FOLLOW ME!"
With a roar, Kian Voss shouldered his rifle and began to carve a path through the heart of the Underhive.
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