The great cistern of Rust-Town, usually a stagnant lake of filth, had been transformed into a shipyard of the desperate.
The water level had been lowered, revealing the slime-slicked concrete floor. In the center, illuminated by thousands of chemical glow-sticks and the harsh white arcs of welding torches, sat the fleet of the damned.
They called them Scrap-Arks.
They were ugly beasts. Shipping containers welded together in clusters of three, reinforced with car chassis and sealed with industrial silicone. They looked less like boats and more like floating bunkers.
Hiss. Spark. Grind.
The noise was deafening.
"Seal that seam!" Scrap-Jack roared from atop his new mech-suit (a loader he had hastily repaired). "If water gets in, you drown! If the pressure cracks the hull, you implode! Weld it like your life depends on it, because it does!"
Varian stood on the high gantry, looking down at the chaos.
It was beautiful.
The Venom-Kin were mixing massive vats of glowing green sludge—oxygen-generating algae to scrub the air inside the sealed containers. The Scrap-Jacks were installing manual crank-propellers. The Vermin-Swarm were running cables and packing dried rations.
For the first time in history, the Dregs weren't fighting each other. They were building.
"Hull integrity on Ark One is 88%," a digitized voice buzzed beside him.
Iron-Jaw stood next to Varian, his red optic whirring as he scanned the fleet. "Ark Two is at 70%. Ark Three... well, Ark Three is mostly duct tape and prayers."
"Put the heavy equipment in Three," Varian ordered. "Put the children and the hybrids in One."
"You're trusting a lot on gravity, Scavenger," Iron-Jaw noted. "Opening the deluge valves will create a torrent. We'll be riding a tsunami down to the Deep Core. One wrong bounce off a wall..."
"Better to bounce off a wall than burn in holy fire," Varian replied. He checked his System clock.
[Time to Purge: 4 Days, 12 Hours.]
"We're ahead of schedule," Varian said. "But I feel like we're running out of time."
The Serpent's Confession
Varian descended the ladder to the cavern floor. He needed to check the chemical mixtures.
He found Lady Venom near the intake pumps. She was overseeing her kin as they poured the algae into the ventilation tanks of the Arks.
Up close, she was terrifying. Her skin was the color of alabaster, veins of purple pulsing beneath the surface. Her lower body, usually hidden by long skirts, was visible now—a long, muscular serpent tail covered in iridescent scales.
"General," she greeted him, her voice smooth as silk.
"Lady Venom," Varian nodded. "Is the oxygen mix stable?"
"It will sustain forty people for three days. After that... carbon dioxide poisoning sets in. It will be a peaceful death, at least."
"We'll be at Station Zero in six hours," Varian said. "No one dies."
Venom tilted her head, her slit-pupil eyes studying him. "You are an odd creature, Varian. You have the scent of a predator, but you act like a shepherd. Why save the Dregs? You have a Symbiote. You could have climbed the vents, killed a few guards, and disappeared into the Industrial Belt."
Varian looked at the bustle of the shipyard. He saw Rix helping a mutant child carry a box. He saw Gorgon lifting a steel beam that four men couldn't move.
"I tried being alone," Varian said quietly. "I survived. But I didn't live."
He looked at her. "What about you? You talk like a noble. You move like one. How does a lady end up in the sewers with a snake tail?"
Venom laughed, a dry, bitter sound. She stirred the vat of algae with a glass rod.
"I was Elara Vane," she whispered. "House Vane. Upper Shell aristocracy. My husband... he wanted my inheritance. But he didn't want the scandal of a divorce."
She touched the scales on her tail.
"He put Basilisk Venom in my wine. It's supposed to paralyze the lungs. Slow suffocation. But he was cheap. He bought a diluted dose from the Black Market."
Her eyes flashed with a cold, ancient hate.
"It didn't kill me. It mutated me. I spent three days writhing in agony as my legs fused and my skin hardened. When the servants found me... they screamed. They threw me down the waste chute."
She looked at Varian.
"I survived the fall. I bonded with the vipers in the trash. And I learned that down here, poison isn't a weapon. It's a gift. It filters the weak from the strong."
She poured a vial of purple liquid into the algae.
"I follow you, Varian, not because you are strong. But because you hate Them—the Pure ones—as much as I do."
Varian nodded. "When we rise, Elara... we'll remind them that poison rises from the bottom."
The Glitch
Varian walked toward the command tent to check the final manifest.
Rix dropped from the ceiling, landing on Varian's shoulder.
"Boss," Rix squeaked into his ear. "Smell is wrong."
Varian stopped. "What smell? Sulfur? Gas?"
"No. Smell is... flowery. Expensive. Like... shiny oil."
Varian frowned. "Oil?"
"Not machine oil. Holy Oil. The kind Paladins put on swords."
Varian's heart skipped a beat.
"Where?"
"Train," Rix pointed a trembling claw toward Iron-Jaw's command carriage. "New smell. Just now."
Varian didn't hesitate. He touched his earpiece. "Gorgon. On me. Now."
He sprinted toward the train car.
Inside, Iron-Jaw was arguing with his assistant, a thin man named Torren. Torren handled the communication arrays and the hacking protocols.
"I'm telling you, the frequency is jammed!" Torren was saying, sweat beading on his forehead. "I can't get a weather update from the surface!"
Varian burst through the door, Gorgon crashing in behind him.
"Step away from the console," Varian ordered, his left arm already glowing with thermal energy.
Iron-Jaw spun around, his mechanical eye whirring. "Scavenger? What is this?"
"Your assistant," Varian pointed at Torren. "Rix says he smells like a church."
Torren's face went pale. "That's ridiculous! I haven't left the sewers in five years!"
"Then empty your pockets," Varian commanded.
Torren hesitated. His hand twitched toward his belt.
"Don't!" Gorgon roared, raising his hammer.
Torren panicked. He pulled out a small, silver device. It wasn't a weapon. It was a beacon. A Sanctuary Locator Beacon.
It was blinking red. Active.
"I had to!" Torren screamed, backing against the wall. "They offered me Amnesty! A clean genome! A life in the Second Shell! All I had to do was give them the coordinates!"
Iron-Jaw stared at his assistant. The betrayal hit him like a physical blow. "Torren... I pulled you out of the sludge. I gave you that arm."
"We're going to die here!" Torren yelled, tears streaming down his face. "This kid is crazy! The Church will burn us all! I just wanted to live!"
"You didn't save yourself," Varian said coldly. "You just aimed the cannon."
Torren pressed a button on the beacon.
BEEP-BEEP-BEEP.
"It's locked!" Torren laughed hysterically. "Signal sent! High priority! They know! They know we're here!"
Iron-Jaw moved fast for a cyborg. His mechanical claw shot out, grabbing Torren by the throat.
CRUNCH.
He didn't ask questions. He didn't hesitate. He crushed the traitor's windpipe. Torren went limp, the beacon falling from his hand.
Iron-Jaw dropped the body. He looked at Varian, his optic lens dimming. "I... I didn't know."
"Doesn't matter now," Varian grabbed the beacon and smashed it under his heel.
He looked at the console screens. Red warning lights were flashing across the board.
[Seismic Alert.][Impact Detected in Sector 4 Ceiling.][Depth: 50 meters and dropping fast.]
Varian looked up at the rusted ceiling of the train car.
"They aren't waiting for the Purge," Varian whispered.
BOOOOOM.
The world turned white.
The Sky Falls
The explosion didn't come from the gates. It came from above.
A massive section of the cistern's ceiling, twenty meters of reinforced concrete and earth, vaporized.
Through the hole, a cylinder the size of a bus dropped. It was sleek, white, and painted with the crimson cross of the Inquisition.
[Analysis: Bunker Buster - Incendiary Class.][Payload: Liquid Promethium.]
The bomb hit the water in the center of the shipyard.
It didn't explode immediately. It breached the surface, diving deep.
"BRACE!" Varian screamed into the comms. "EVERYONE DOWN!"
KRA-KOOOOM.
The shockwave lifted the train car off its tracks. Glass shattered. Varian was thrown against the wall, his head cracking against a metal strut.
He fell to the floor, ears ringing.
Through the shattered windows, he saw hell.
The center of the cistern was a geyser of fire and water. The Promethium ignited underwater, creating a boiling, expanding sphere of steam and flame.
Two of the unfinished Arks were vaporized instantly.
"Fire!" Rix screamed over the headset. "Sky is raining fire!"
More bombs were falling. Smaller ones. Cluster munitions. They popped in the air, raining white phosphorous onto the panic-stricken crowd.
"Get to the Arks!" Varian stumbled out of the train car. "Launch! Launch now!"
He grabbed the railing of the platform. Below, chaos reigned.
The Dregs were stampeding. People were trampling each other to get to the gangplanks of the finished Arks.
"Order!" Scrap-Jack's voice boomed over the loudspeakers. "Venom-Kin! Secure the gangplanks! Anyone who pushes gets poisoned! Women and children first! Move!"
Varian jumped from the train platform, landing on the roof of Ark One.
"Gorgon! Get the Flood Gates!" Varian pointed to the massive wheel valve at the far end of the cavern.
"It's rusted shut!" Gorgon yelled, shielding his face from the heat.
"Smash it! Break the seal!"
Gorgon ran. He charged through the crowd, knocking mutants aside. He reached the massive iron wheel controlling the deluge valve.
A cluster bomb exploded near him. Shrapnel pinged off his stone skin.
Gorgon grabbed the wheel. He pulled. His muscles swelled.
"OPEN!"
SCREEEEEECH.
The metal screamed. The wheel turned.
Then, the locks broke.
The Flood Gates didn't just open; they burst.
Millions of gallons of waste-water from the upper sectors, held back for decades, crashed into the cistern.
It was a wall of black water, ten meters high.
"Hold on!" Varian screamed, driving his Symbiote-claw into the roof of the Ark to anchor himself.
The water hit the fleet.
The Scrap-Arks were lifted up like toys in a bathtub. Ark One surged forward, riding the crest of the artificial tsunami.
Varian watched as the dockyards were swallowed. He saw stragglers—people who hadn't made it to the boats—being swept away by the black torrent.
"Help me!" a man screamed, reaching out from the swirling water.
Varian extended his whip. He caught the man's hand. He pulled.
But the current was too strong. The man slipped.
"NO!"
The man disappeared under the foam.
The ceiling above them collapsed further. Daylight—dim, smoggy daylight—pierced the gloom. And silhouetted against the light were flying shapes.
[Enemy: Seraphim Drones.][Weapon: Plasma Cannons.]
They were strafing the water, firing at the fleeing Arks.
Pew. Pew. BOOM.
Ark Four took a direct hit. It exploded in a ball of fire.
Varian stood on the roof of Ark One, the wind and spray whipping his face. He looked at the drones.
"Kraz! Scavengers! Return fire!"
From the hatches of the Arks, the Dregs opened fire. Rifles, rivet guns, poison darts. It was a pathetic barrage against high-tech drones, but it was defiant.
"Iron-Jaw!" Varian shouted into the comms. "Where are you?"
"I'm on Ark Two!" Iron-Jaw's voice was static-filled. "We took a hit to the rudder! We're spinning!"
"Correct course! The tunnel entrance is ahead!"
The massive tunnel leading to the Deep Core loomed in front of them—a black mouth swallowing the river.
Ark One plunged into the darkness.
Varian looked back one last time.
Rust-Town was gone. It was a churning cauldron of fire and water. The home of the outcasts had been erased.
But the fleet... the fleet was moving.
Seven Arks. Two thousand survivors.
Varian slumped against a ventilation pipe on the roof. He touched the Symbiote. It was vibrating, feeding off his adrenaline and rage.
[Survival Check: Passed.][Casualties: High (~800 lost).][Status: In Transit to Deep Core.]
"We made it," Rix crawled out of a hatch, shivering wet. "We flushed."
Varian stared into the dark.
"We didn't just flush, Rix," Varian whispered. "We declared war."
He looked at his hand. The Solar Core was burning hotter than ever before.
"Let them have the ruins," Varian swore. "When we come back... we're taking the sky."