Selina tapped her foot. Waiting, her guards arrayed around her for this Summit. She wasn't tense; she had done this for far too long. But she could feel impatience bubbling up. The Trodden had been dragging their feet for weeks, months even. She was fucking tired of it.
They weren't a threat, just in the way. Only old treaties kept her from marching in, carving through them on the way to the Ash Stalkers. Her actual enemies… somehow. Where they were getting their manpower and supplies was still a mystery, but if they could actually assault them in force, they were done.
And this meeting would be the first step. Then they could finally bring this war to an end and get some answers. She and the Court hadn't been challenged in years, not since the early days when she and Lanto had hacked through anyone in their way.
They were stronger than ever. If anything, the war had winnowed out the weak, leaving her some hidden gems, hardening up the rest. Sure, plenty of the chaff died, but the survivors were better off for it. By the time this was over, she'd have more veterans and soldiers than ever.
Finally, it was time. As they moved into the open, Selina felt the old reflexive tension coil in her muscles. No matter how steady her heart was, her instincts warned of snipers. It was what she would do after all. Lanto would complain, but would agree with her; honour and mercy were for the unassailable.
She slid into her seat; gaze locked onto the taurox. One of the Trodden's last remaining, if her little birds were right. She almost winced watching Smant swagger over, trying hard to mask the exhaustion in his eyes. But she could see it. She had learned long ago in the spires, posture lied, but the eyes… they told the truth.
She knew how to read people, and Smant was screaming it, a man at the end of his tether. No surprises there, not with the losses he was taking. They'd lost much of their turf on the far side of the Bridge, having been pushed right back to the entrance. Not to mention the bodies they left behind.
If her intel was right, and it usually was, those guards around him were some of the last champions the Trodden had left. Most others were dead, torn apart by the Stalkers' cyber mastiffs. Still, the Trodden had managed something useful: they'd thinned out the numbers. Not the truly dangerous ones, but enough to make their push for the Fortress, the Ash Stalker's main headquarters, easier.
His guards were the same, that same swagger of the young and cocky, but cracked and brittle, after reality had smacked them in the face. They were well armed though and seemed competent enough.
Nothing like her own. But then, she had Lanto whipping them into shape, so maybe that wasn't a fair comparison. His presence alone was enough to keep the men calm and steady. Especially for those who had actually seen him in action, rare as it was. Rarer still were those gang members who remembered it; most had died over the years.
A lucky few could even boast of dying from natural causes, or at least not a bullet. She doubted it was natural, with all the filth clogging the air. But it was no better up the hive. Oh, don't mistake her, it was prettier, sure, but just as lethal. Backstabbing nobles and desperate socialites could kill you just as dead.
Selina kept still as Smant dropped into the seat opposite her. His men seemed jumpy enough as it was. She nodded. " Smant. Glad we could organise this. Let's get started, shall we?" After a tense beat, he nodded back, and they got down to business.
Things were going surprisingly well. After a bit of bragging, they reached the heart of what she wanted to talk about, passage through his territory. They were even making progress. She would need to make some concession but that was a small price to pay. Then she felt, more than saw, Lanto tense behind her. His fully sealed helmeted head tilted slightly—the way she knew meant he was receiving a vox call into his helmet.
Her concern rose when she noticed her other guards stirred: subtle shifts, hands tightening on weapons. The Trodden noticed too, as the atmosphere suddenly got tense again.
This only increased when Lanto drifted over to stand over her shoulder. Leaning down he whispered. "Storms brewing." She nodded at the code word and let him guide her to her feet. She wasn't rushed as the code just meant there might be trouble, nothing certain.
They knew better than to speak openly; anyone could have augmetics or listening gear. Codes were safer. As she got to her feet, Smant jumped to his. "What was going on?"
"Something needs my attention." she said, calmer than she felt. "We will reschedule as soon as we can." He looked like he was about to start ranting, but her guards closed in around her, moving her gently but firmly away to safety.
She would have complained about them being a bit too forceful, but they were handpicked by Lanto and had his full confidence. As a result, they had far more contact with the inner circle, giving them the confidence to go against her word if it was in the name of their jobs, namely, guarding her.
As they moved away, she asked Lanto, "What is it?"
"Not sure yet. Overwatch picked something up."
"Who?" she asked, already guessing the answer. His new wonder kid and possibly the greatest find of the war. The boy had only gone from strength to strength, becoming by all accounts a respected and even feared recruit.
"Aleric. I know. You think I'm too fond of him. Maybe I am. But he hasn't let us down yet, and his gut has saved several ops. Besides, John agrees."
She grunted. John didn't jump at ghosts. No one knew how old he was, only that he'd been around before she created the Midnight Court over twenty years ago. That meant something down here. She was about to ask something else when Lanto raised a hand, cutting her off as a fresh vox message came in. "Shit, goliath incoming from the bridge. Go go go!"
Even as he barked the order, her guards picked up speed, almost carrying her by that point as they moved into a full sprint. Lanto followed a few paces behind, shouting orders on the vox. Glancing over her shoulder, she could just make out as the colossal truck came roaring into view.
Its autocannons already raking the air with gunfire.
Gang members from both sides were not far behind, the air filling with the howls of death.
How the fuck hell did the Stalkers get their hands on one of them? Vehicles were the one thing locked down by the guilds. It was also one thing their gang was short on. Notoriously hard to get in the underhive, and honestly not particularly helpful, at least for the Court. She couldn't deny wanting one now, watching the trail of destruction it left in its wake. It was making a beeline for the tent, and when it spotted her out in the open, it changed course.
The truck Smant arrived in erupted into flames as something struck it. From the smoke trail leading back to the goliath, it must have come from there. In the sudden chaos, she had no idea if Smant had been inside when it went up.
It would solve a lot of problems if he had been.
As the truck was smashing through blockades and gaining on them, a distinct boom echoed out, slicing through the rest of the chaos with ease. It was a deep, bassy sound, one that seemed to rise from her gut. Dust puffed from nearby rooftops, disturbed by the blast wave.
Spinning, she searched for the target—just in time to see the goliath's thin, slitted window frost over as a massive crack spidered through the polyglass. Even as the first shot faded, another mighty crack sounded, striking the same spot and spraying more powdered glass into the air.
Another thunderous boom.
This time, it punched through the glass.
Red blood misted the windows, and the whole truck jerked sideways, crashing into a reinforced barricade and into a building. The last thing she saw before being dragged around the corner were elite gangers pouring out. Each one incredibly well armed.
Behind the wreck, more vehicles poured through the gaps made by the goliath. Grimacing, this was clearly a big operation. If she lived through this, she would have to find out how they had missed it.
Bullets pinging off the elite gangers as they advanced through the hail of bullets. One finally dropped when a gaping hole appeared in his chest, and another deep, pulsing thump echoed out from Alaric's rifle. A well-known and even feared sound by now.
She'd watched him practice, always from a distance, and even she had to admit he was frighteningly accurate.
Even around the corner, she could still hear that distinct sound, almost in time with her heart. She found herself tensing in anticipation for each shot. The closer they got to safety, the more soldiers swarmed around her, guarding their backs as they moved closer to the bunker.
She didn't demand any answers from Lanto, knowing he would be coordinating it over vox. Knowing him, now she was clear he would be organising a fighting retreat until they were ready to counterattack. It was only once they were secured inside the bunker that she could no longer wait. "Update me. Now."
"Definitely Ash Stalkers and not Smant betraying us. There is a huge push from the Bridge. We have no idea how they got there. All teams are retreating in good order, and the Ash Stalkers are losing a huge number of men. We already estimate they have lost a dozen elites, not to mention the goliath. Its loss alone is devastating. Especially if we can salvage it for ourselves."
"Good. Was Smant in his truck?"
"Yes, we are not sure if he survived, but it's unlikely. No one has left the burning wreck, and the rest of the gang are flailing. Well—more than usual, anyway."
"Our casualties?"
"Unclear at this stage. But not as bad as it could have been, being warned and you already pulling back. It allowed us to give ground, inflicting good casualties as we did.
Confirming to make sure she was right, "That shot..."
"Yes, Alaric's monster. I still have no idea what he did to the rifle, but you saw the results. It is one of the most powerful snipers I have ever seen." Lanto said with a chuckle.
His chuckle relaxed her, and by the looks of it, the men around her as well. She could feel herself slowly untensing; she was used to death. But getting charged down by a goliath? That was a new one.
They were definitely going to have to promote Aleric after this. Saving her life or at least being a major part of it. Not to mention all his acolytes until now. "Zardelle?" She said unable to help herself.
"She's fine, she is helping me coordinate at the HQ." Good, she knew she would be, but in the chaos, no one was ever truly safe.
"If Smant is dead, I want to be ready to push in and claim the Bridge. Then there is nothing stopping us from a full-on assault on the Stalkers."
"I couldn't agree more. It's time to end this, and it couldn't come sooner." She could only nod at that. The war had been fine at the start. Good even. Minor skirmishes, helping them weed out the chaff from her gang, strengthening ties and loyalty the gangers had to her Midnight Court. But as it grew into an all-out war, it became more and more disruptive. To the point it was starting to disrupt trade of the guilds and nobles.
Hurting their bottom line was not a healthy place to be. Just last week, they had received a warning from House Valtorin. A message letting them know that they were nearing the end of their protection. The conflict was growing too noticeable to cover up; it needed to be closed or risk intervention by the guilds and nobles.
Which was just a nice way of saying they would raze Glow Gate to the ground and start afresh.
Another boom, quieter now, echoed out, pulling Selina from her thoughts. "Are there still threats?"
"No, we are far enough away. But they are still pushing hard. Suicidally even."
"Good, then get out there."
Grinning at her, Lanto made a cheeky salute before taking a few of his bodyguards and leaving to join the effort. Leaving her to make her own way back. Once there, she could finally get some fucking answers.
Again, the Stalkers had surprised them. They had only ever been a low-level gang, mostly ferrying goods between hives. No way should they have been able to bring that kind of heat or even threaten the Court.
Maybe she had grown complacent at the top. But even so, a goliath, elite troops with carapace armour? None of this was cheap or easy to get. You needed deals with guilds or nobles to get access to it. Something they should have heard about through her contacts or through her girls.
---
Jeraks' hands shook as he stared over the barricade at the massing gangers. He didn't know why he was still there, stuck on this narrow street clogged with smoke, swirling to unseen currents. He knew he should run. Lots of the other Court members had. Looking around, he could only spot a few others still holding. None of them his podmates. The ones he'd grown up with, joined with.
And those who hadn't… fighting back tears, he looked down at his brother, body already cooling on the grim, slimy street floor. His hands shook harder, fighting back the feeling of hopelessness and loss. First Ma and now him. But Ma raised no coward and little Jimmy… he hadn't protected him like he promised Ma he would. But he'd go out swinging, a story worth telling when he faced the Emperors judgement.
She had passed from the Wasting. A plague that had ripped through Glow Gate almost a decade ago. He tried not to remember how she was near the end, only how she was before. A strong woman, boxing his ears when he did something stupid, which was all the time. A small smile flickered over Jeraks' face as he remembered happier times before the cry of the charging Stalker members brought him back.
Whispering a prayer to the Emperor, he looked over the barricade, aimed and fired, his crude autogun kicking against his shoulder. For a heartbeat, pride flared in his chest as his first few rounds hit where he was aiming, killing three gangers. Those hours at the gun range hadn't been wasted.
The pride didn't last long, as more gangers shoved their way forward. The Stalkers shots started to find their marks. Jeraks flinched as the veteran standing next to him, a stabilising influence, his calmness reassuring, gurgled—blood pumping from his throat.
Reloading, he didn't see the grenade clink down near him; the first he learned of it was the concussion wave blowing him from his feet. Ears ringing, smoke in his eyes, and dizzy, he forced himself upright just as the Stalkers reached the barricade.
One Stalker, cruelly smirking, raised his gun—and disintegrated, torn apart by a withering barrage of shots that swept up and down the line. Cutting anyone in its path to shreds, flesh and armour alike. Jeraks twisted round and saw a monster of a man, an adhuman with rocky grey skin and a heavy stubber (looking more like a toy) clutched in his massive hands.
Jeraks gasped at the man next to the giant, calmly walking, pistol in hand. A red eye, with swords and a skull behind it, on his shoulder.
The Warmaster.
By the time they reached the barricade, his ears had mostly stopped ringing. The Warmaster gestured in silence before turning to the adhuman. "Drakar, get dug in. We hold here."
"Got it boss." As the adhuman lumbered off, Lanto scanned the battle and spotted Jeraks still on the floor.
He offered his hand. "You alright there, kid?"
"Y-yes, sir." Jeraks stammered as Lanto hauled him to his feet.
"Good, grab your gun—it's not over yet. Get back over there into cover."
He scrambled to obey. "Yes sir!" It took him a minute to find his gun, half-buried in dust and rubble. A quick check showed it still looked okay. At least no more beat up than before.
"Good lad." Lanto spun back to bark orders at the handful of surviving gangers and a few that were trickling in after the tide had been turned. They didn't have long, as the next charge came fast, but the heavy stubber turned it back with ease.
The next two chargers were the same. Jeraks watched with a sick fascination as the third wave limped out of range. The ground before the barricade, or what was left of it, was a sea of blood, guts and scattered body parts. Jeraks wasn't great at counting, but there had to be over two hands' worth, easy. He couldn't understand what had driven them to throw themselves forward endlessly.
But he had done as he was told, keeping his head down. He had even killed a handful more gangers, he thought with pride. It wasn't without loss however, their number had dropped to only a few. He was so lost in thought that he missed Lanto calling for the retreat. Only when he saw others moving did he snap back.
"Alright, pack it all up. We are pulling back. Scavenge what you can! Move!" The remaining gang members scrambled to grab what loot they could. Before he could do the same, Lanto called him over. "You survived. What's your name, kid?"
"Jeraks, sir."
"Good shooting, you're with me." Turing, he marched off. Jeraks thought he heard him mutter, "Maybe another one." But it was so faint he couldn't be sure. Moving quickly, Lanto organised the chaos, Jaraks trailing after him, like a duckling its mother. A gangly ugly duckling. A strange sort of pride and self-consciousness washed over him as he felt the eyes of the rest of the Court's members on him.
They didn't have long before Lanto shouted, "Alright, that's enough, move out." Jeraks was about to follow the others when he heard. "Hold up a second kid. Take these. To the victor go the spoils." Throwing a set of flak armour, far superior to his cobbled-together set. It had a proper helmet for one. "Don't put it on now, do that later. Show me your gun." Slightly sheepishly, he handed it over.
Grunting, Lanto tossed him a new autogun. "Use that instead. But I expect you to keep it well-maintained. If you don't know how, ask around or come find me after the battle. Understood?"
Jeraks nodded, slightly dazed by his good fortunes. Following Lanto, he couldn't wait to tell Jimmy and the others; they would be so jealous… but then his heart sank. He could feel the tears once more threatening to fall. Scrubbing at his face, he rubbed them off angrily. Ma didn't raise a crier. He had to be strong.
They stopped at several checkpoints, pulling the Court members from them until they had over thirty gang members following Lanto. They fought off a few attacks, losing a few of their number each time. But still giving far worse than they took.
They kept this slow retreat until they reached what had once been a courtyard, open spaces with grass and trees. Those had long since died, and all that was left was a bare patch of mud in the centre of the open square.
"Get set up. We will be holding here."
By now, Jeraks knew what to do. He found a nook to crouch in and set up his gun, which he had fallen in love with. It was so much better than his last one, no more grinding clicks or jams when reloading. This fired like a dream. He had made good use of it too, taking some revenge on his brother and podmates.
They had barely finished setting up when a bunch of Stalker members flooded into the square, charging. With more Court members and the Warmaster himself, they were in high spirits, but as time wore on, and with no sign of retreat, it started to dip. Jeraks stayed steady, the calming influence of the Warmaster nearby.
Jeraks had no idea how long he had been firing. But his hands had long since turned numb from the constant vibrations and he was down to his last few clips—even with all the ones he'd picked up on the way.
Still, he could feel the worry rising. Gang members dropped around him—only a few at first. But as the pushes grew more desperate, with better-armed gangers, some lugging heavy weapons, he could feel the twisting of his gut. Relief surged through him when he heard a captain approach, heavy shotgun in hand. "We need to pull back! We can't hold much longer. My boys and I are on the last few clips."
"No Caidold, we only need to hold a bit longer."
"A bit longer? I am not sure we can." he said before swearing, ducking as the assault intensified, slugs slamming the walls around them. "We need to—" He never finished.
A deep, thunderous boom echoed through the square, and as it faded, another followed. Looking round Jeraks saw one of the commanders at the edge of the square collapsed, his head gone.
For a moment, the entire battle seemed to pause, holding its breath—though Jeraks' trigger finger stayed firmly held down. Then, from across the courtyard, gunfire erupted, cutting through the unprotected flanks of the hivers.
But over it all, that steady boom continued, like a drumbeat heralding another death. Laughing Caidold said, "Ahh, why didn't you say we were waiting for the kid and his monster?" Without waiting for a reply, he spun. "Come on boys—charge! Before the little shit kills them all!" Still laughing, he vaulted the crumbling wall they were using for cover and charged the distracted Stalkers.
One was too close and took a blast to the face, exploding in a shower of gore. When the last gang member dropped, the rest in full retreat, Jeraks slumped, suddenly exhausted. Too drained to even move, he watched as the Court member emerged. At their head was a kid, younger even than himself. Jimmy's age in fact. But he walked at the front, a massive riffle in his arms and a woman, a captain, at his side.
He was too far to hear, but he could see the boy and the Warmaster clasp arms.