The geography of the underworld was measured not in miles, but in smell.
They had left the sulfurous rot of the Sludge-Falls behind. Now, the tunnels smelled of ozone, burning plastic, and cheap, spicy grease. It was the scent of civilization—or the desperate parody of it that existed three kilometers beneath the earth's surface.
"Rust-Town ahead," Rix whispered, halting at a junction where three massive drainage pipes intersected. "Must pay toll. You have metal?"
Varian adjusted the sling holding Elian. The boy was shivering again, the damp cold of the tunnels seeping into his bones despite the Symbiote's residual heat.
"I have copper," Varian said, patting the coil of wire he had scavenged from the shipping container. "Is that enough?"
Rix shook his head vigorously, his ears flapping. "No give good copper to Gate-Guards. They stupid. Give scrap."
Rix rummaged in his pockets and pulled out a handful of rusted bolts and a bent screwdriver. He handed them to Varian. "Give this. Look mean. If look weak, they take everything."
Varian nodded. He pulled his hood low over his face, hiding his features in shadow. He wrapped a strip of dirty cloth around his left arm to conceal the glowing veins of the Symbiote. To the casual observer, it just looked like a bandaged injury.
They stepped out of the tunnel and into Rust-Town.
It was a city built inside a colossal, hollowed-out cistern. The walls were lined with shanties constructed from the refuse of the world above: huts made of flattened washing machines, towers of welded car doors, and bridges made of chain-link fencing.
Bioluminescent moss was harvested here on an industrial scale, stuffed into glass jars that lined the walkways like streetlamps, casting everything in a sickly, flickering green gloom.
And the people...
Varian scanned the crowd with his Genetic Archivist sight active.
[Subject: Human (Variant)][Mutation: Hyper-Keratosis (Scale Skin).]
[Subject: Human (Variant)][Mutation: Extra Ocular Organs.]
They were the Dregs. The unwanted. People whose genes had twisted just enough to be rejected by the "Pure" society of the Upper Shells, but not enough to be classified as Beasts.
At the entrance gate—a barricade of old tires—two massive guards stood watch. One had an arm that was visibly larger than the other, covered in coarse gray fur.
"Halt," the hairy guard grunted. He held a spear made from a sharpened stop sign. "Toll."
Varian stepped forward. He didn't speak. He channeled the Solar Core in his gut, letting a subtle wave of heat radiate from his body. The air around him shimmered slightly.
He tossed the rusted bolts and the screwdriver at the guard's feet.
"Payment," Varian rasped, mimicking the guttural accent of the slums.
The guard looked at the scrap. Then he felt the heat coming off Varian. In the freezing sewers, heat meant power. It meant a high-tier Fire Symbiote.
The guard kicked the scrap aside but stepped back. "Enter. No fighting in the market. Iron-Jaw's rules."
Varian walked past them, Rix scurrying at his heels like a faithful pet.
The market was a sensory assault.
Stalls lined the muddy streets, selling wares that would make a surface-dweller vomit.
"Cockroach Skewers! Glazed in honey-sap!" a vendor shouted, waving a stick of grilled insects.
"Filters! Get your lung filters! 80% clean air guaranteed!"
Varian ignored them. He walked with purpose, his eyes scanning for signs of danger. He kept one hand supporting Elian on his back, the other resting near his bandaged left arm.
"Where is the trader?" Varian asked Rix.
"Deep. In the Train," Rix pointed.
In the center of the cistern, raised on concrete blocks like a shrine, sat an ancient subway car. It was pristine compared to the rest of the town, its metal polished to a dull shine. Two turrets—scavenged from military drones—mounted on the roof tracked anyone who approached.
[Target: Auto-Turret (Old World Tech)][Caliber: .50 BMG][Status: Active.]
"Serious firepower," Varian noted. "This Iron-Jaw isn't just a junk dealer."
"Iron-Jaw is boss," Rix whispered. "He eats metal too."
They climbed the metal stairs to the train car. A scanner swept over them—a beam of red light.
[Scan Complete. No biological weapons detected. Enter.]
The doors hissed open.
The inside of the train was a workshop. The walls were lined with shelves overflowing with high-tech scrap: circuit boards, hydraulic pistons, jars of glowing chemicals, and beast bones.
Behind a counter made of bulletproof glass sat a man. Or half a man.
His lower jaw was entirely mechanical—a heavy, chrome mandible with exposed pistons. His left eye was a red optical sensor that whirred as it focused on Varian.
"You're new," Iron-Jaw's voice was synthesized, buzzing with static. "And you smell like burnt ozone. You the one who caused the commotion at the Sludge-Falls?"
Varian didn't flinch. "News travels fast."
"News travels at the speed of rats," Iron-Jaw gestured to Rix, who was cowering behind Varian's legs. "What do you want, Scavenger?"
Varian walked to the counter. He gently lowered Elian onto a nearby bench. The boy was barely conscious, his breathing ragged.
"I'm selling," Varian said. He pulled the coil of copper wire from his pack and slammed it onto the counter. "High-purity industrial copper. Five kilos."
Iron-Jaw picked up the coil with a hand that was more claw than finger. He scratched the metal.
"Clean," he admitted. "But common. 500 Credits."
"It's worth 800," Varian countered.
"600. Because I like your pet rat."
Varian didn't argue. 600 was enough for food. But he needed more than food.
"I need gear," Varian said. "I have a heat regulation problem."
He unwrapped the bandage on his left arm. The black metal of the Symbiote was dull now, but the skin around it was blistered and raw.
Iron-Jaw leaned in, his mechanical eye spinning.
"Symbiosis Burn," the merchant whistled. "Nasty. You bonded with a Thermal-Type without having the body for it? You're lucky you didn't cook your own heart."
"Can you fix it?"
Iron-Jaw rummaged under the counter. He pulled out a bulky, ugly device. It looked like a brass gauntlet woven with clear tubing and a small canister of blue liquid.
"Liquid Nitrogen circulatory pump. Scavenged from a cryo-unit. You wear it over the arm. It cycles coolant into the skin. It won't stop the heat, but it'll keep your flesh from melting for... oh, ten minutes of combat?"
"How much?"
"2,000 Credits."
Varian's heart sank. He had 600.
"I have something else to trade," Varian said slowly.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the Memory Cylinder he had found in the shipping container. The silver drive gleamed under the workshop lights.
Iron-Jaw froze. The whirring of his eye stopped.
He reached out a mechanical hand, but Varian pulled the drive back.
"What is it?" Varian asked.
Iron-Jaw looked at the door, then back at Varian. He lowered his voice.
"That," Iron-Jaw clicked, "is a Union Black Box. Specifically, from the Bio-Alchemy division. Where did you get this?"
"Fell from the sky," Varian lied.
Iron-Jaw laughed, a harsh, metallic sound. "Kid, things don't just fall. That drive contains coordinate data. Encrypted. But if it's from the Union... it's probably coordinates to a 'Black Site'. An illegal lab."
Varian's grip on the drive tightened. The lab that made me? Or another one?
"Is it worth 2,000?" Varian asked.
Iron-Jaw stared at him. "Kid, that thing is worth a death sentence. If the Church finds you with that, they won't just kill you. They'll exorcise you. And if the Union finds you... well, they'll dissect you."
Iron-Jaw pushed a button under the desk. The shutters on the train windows slammed down.
"I won't buy it," Iron-Jaw said. "Too hot. I like money, but I like living more."
Varian cursed internally.
"However," Iron-Jaw continued. "I deal in information. I'll give you the Cooling Gauntlet and 500 credits. In exchange, you let me copy the header data. Just the location code. Not the encryption key."
"Why?"
"Because if there's a secret lab, there's secret loot. I won't go there, but I can sell the map to someone crazy enough to try."
Varian hesitated. Selling the location of a potential hell-hole?
It's just coordinates, Varian reasoned. I keep the drive.
"Deal," Varian said. "But throw in three high-grade Nutrient Injectors. For the boy."
Iron-Jaw glanced at Elian. "Done."
Ten minutes later, Varian walked out of the train car feeling heavier, but stronger.
The Cryo-Gauntlet was strapped over his left arm. It was bulky and hissed softly, but the cool sensation against his burned skin was heavenly.
[Item Equipped: Scavenger's Cryo-Pump.][Passive Effect: Reduces Host Thermal Damage by 60%.][Ammo: Cryo-Fluid (85% Full).]
In his pocket, he had 1,100 Credits (600 for copper + 500 for the data). And in his bag, three syringes of neon-blue nutrient solution.
"We eat tonight, Rix," Varian said.
"Meat?" Rix asked hopefully.
"Better. Protein bars without mold."
They were making their way back toward the exit of Rust-Town when Varian stopped.
The crowd ahead was parting. The noise of the market died down to a fearful hush.
Walking down the center of the muddy street were three figures.
They wore long white trench coats with gold trim. On their chests hung heavy silver pendants—a circle with a cross through it. The symbol of the Church of Purity.
But it was what walked beside them that terrified the crowd.
A beast. A massive, white wolf with fur that looked like marble and eyes that glowed with a calm, holy blue light.
[Analysis: Sanctuary Wolf.][Rank: Warrior (High-Tier).][Affiliation: The Inquisition.]
"Paladins," Rix squeaked, shrinking into a ball. "Smell police."
Varian grabbed Rix and pulled him into the shadows of an alleyway between a noodle stall and a scrap heap.
"Quiet," Varian hissed.
The lead Paladin, a woman with a severe face and a scar running down her chin, stopped at a stall. She held up a holographic projector.
It showed a grainy image.
It wasn't Varian's face. It was a silhouette. A figure with a glowing, molten arm.
"Have you seen this Aberration?" the Paladin asked the trembling stall owner. "A demon-host. Escaped from Sector 4. High priority."
The shopkeeper shook his head violently. "No, Holy One! Only rats and trash here!"
The Paladin sneered. She looked around the market, her gaze sweeping over the alleyway where Varian was hiding.
The Sanctuary Wolf lifted its head. It sniffed the air.
Varian's heart stopped.
The Symbiote, he realized. Even with the bandages, even with the cooling pump... the beast can smell the corruption.
The Wolf growled. It turned its marble head directly toward the alley.
"What is it, Holiness?" the Paladin asked, drawing a silver baton from her belt.
"Corruption," the Paladin whispered. "Close."
Varian looked at the dead end behind him. A chain-link fence, ten feet high, topped with razor wire.
"Rix," Varian whispered. "Can you climb that?"
"Easy," Rix whispered back.
"Take Elian. Go. Now."
"What about Hot-Blood?"
"I'll distract them."
Varian handed the sling with Elian to Rix. The mutant boy hesitated, then grabbed Elian with surprising strength and scrambled up the fence like a gecko.
Varian stood alone in the shadows. He looked at his Cryo-Gauntlet.
"Time to test the plumbing," he muttered.
He stepped out of the alley.
"Hey!" Varian shouted, his voice cracking with feigned drunkenness. He stumbled into the street, waving a bottle of cheap sewer-wine he had swiped from a trash pile. "You shiny coats blocking the road!"
The Paladin turned. The Wolf growled, its hackles raising.
"Civilian," the Paladin said coldly. "Step aside."
"You step aside!" Varian slurred. He walked closer, dangerously close to the Wolf.
The Wolf snapped at him.
Varian "tripped." He fell forward, his hand splashing into a puddle of mud—right next to the Wolf's paws.
But as he fell, he activated the Cryo-Pump.
HISS.
A cloud of white, freezing nitrogen vapor vented from his gauntlet, aiming low. It wasn't an attack. It was a smokescreen.
The Wolf yelped as the freezing gas hit its nose. The sudden cold confused its thermal scent tracking.
"My bottle!" Varian cried, rolling in the mud to cover his scent with filth.
The Paladin kicked Varian away, disgusted. "Filthy drunk. Get out of my sight."
The Wolf sneezed, shaking its head. It looked around, confused. The scent of the "Demon" was gone, masked by the nitrogen and the sewer mud.
"Come," the Paladin commanded the beast. "It was just a false positive. This place reeks of sin."
They walked past Varian, heading deeper into the market.
Varian lay in the mud until they were gone. His heart was hammering a hole in his ribs.
[Stealth Check: Passed.][Adrenaline Level: High.]
He slowly got up, wiping the muck from his face. He checked his pocket. The Drive and the Credits were safe.
He looked up at the fence where Rix had disappeared.
"Too close," Varian exhaled.
He turned and ran toward the perimeter, taking the long way around to meet his pack.
One Hour Later - The Safehouse (Rix's Nest)
Varian sat in the truck, watching Elian.
He had administered the Nutrient Injector. The effect was miraculous. Color had returned to Elian's cheeks. His breathing was deep and rhythmic.
Varian peeled the wrapper off a protein bar—a real one, chocolate flavor—and handed half to Rix.
"Good trick with cold-smoke," Rix said, munching happily. "Wolf was stupid."
"Wolf was smart," Varian corrected, biting into his own bar. It tasted like sawdust and sugar, but it was the best thing he had ever eaten. "We just got lucky."
Varian pulled out the Memory Cylinder again. He turned it over in his fingers.
Iron-Jaw had said it contained coordinates.
"System," Varian whispered. "Can you read the header data?"
[Interfacing...][Decryption Key: Not Found.][Reading Metadata...]
[Location Code: Sector 0 - The Deep Core.][Project Name: "The Cradle of God".]
Varian froze.
Sector 0. That was the center of the world. The place no one was allowed to go. The place where the "Great Rot" started.
Why would the Bio-Alchemy Union have a lab there?
And why did seeing those words make the Symbiote on his arm tremble with... excitement?
Varian looked at the ceiling of the truck, past the hanging moss, imagining the millions of tons of steel and rock above him.
"We're not just escaping, are we?" Varian whispered to the silent machine in his arm. "We're going back to the source."
He put the drive away.
"Sleep, Rix. Tomorrow, we train. I need to learn how to use this arm without killing myself. Because next time... the Wolf won't be alone."