3 Tartarus
Weaving through the labyrinthine streets of Tartarus, my speeder became an extension of myself. Using its agility, I managed to evade patrols and sneak past imposing gates, finally arriving at a looming palace. Sleeping within its opulent walls, however, was out of the question. This was no five-star hotel.
After skillfully concealing the speeder amidst a pile of discarded machinery and overflowing garbage cans, I found myself scaling the rough, uneven surface of a nearby building. Reaching the rooftop wasn't graceful, but with a combination of grit and determination, I hoisted myself onto the flat surface.
Lying on my back, I gazed up at the vast expanse of the night sky, a stark contrast to the harsh reality of the city below. The stars, distant and uncaring, twinkled brightly, while the moon cast a pale, ethereal glow on the ramshackle buildings. It was a moment of peace amidst the chaos, a brief respite before the harshness of reality would inevitably reassert itself.
Sleep came, fleeting and troubled. Waking with a jolt, I found myself greeted by the unforgiving sun, its relentless heat already turning my skin a painful shade of red. Groaning, I reached for the Infinite Water Case, its cool liquid a lifesaver in this scorching wasteland. I poured it liberally over my body, soaking my clothes in the process. Gradually, the burning sensation subsided, leaving behind a refreshed, slightly damp coolness.
Below me, the city hummed with activity. Vendors hawked their wares, children chased each other through dusty alleys, and figures in tattered clothing hurried about their daily routines. Stretching my aching muscles, I could hear the faint crackles and pops as my joints protested the previous night's unorthodox sleeping arrangement.
One pressing question clawed at my mind: how to get more credits. The urge for a power boost, a way to climb out of this precarious situation, was undeniable.
I addressed the system, my voice echoing in my mind. "System, how do I earn credits?"
A reply materialized instantly. "[Host could complete missions.]"
Missions, huh? Intriguing. I called up the list, a flicker of hope igniting in my chest.
[Main Objective: Become a Guardsman (900 Credits)
Second Objective: Defeat an Enemy (90 Credits)
Third Objective: Become Rich (200 Credits)
Fourth Objective: Save a Space Marine Life (30,000 Credits)]
Saving a Space Marine? Yeah, right. I wasn't exactly qualified to tackle an Orc horde or a Tyranid swarm. Even "defeat an enemy" felt a little vague. Looking for clarification, I queried the system again.
"System, what constitutes an enemy? Does it have to be a person who considers me an enemy, or can it be anyone I choose?"
A brief pause, then the reply: "[Only the host's perspective is needed.]"
So, squishing a cockroach counted? Interesting. That mission suddenly seemed a lot more achievable. Becoming rich, well, maybe there was a way to swindle or threaten someone in power. Becoming a guardsman, however, seemed like a path straight towards a gruesome demise.
Closing the mission tab, I walked to the edge of the rooftop, peering down at the bustling city below. People milled about, their lives filled with their own struggles and desires. Taking a deep breath, I leaped, landing with a soft thud that sent a jolt of pain through my ankle. Clearly, superhero landings were not in my skillset (yet).
Ignoring the throbbing pain, I ventured towards the place, ensuring my precious speeder was still hidden (thankfully, it was). Following the flow of people, I eventually found myself drawn to a bustling marketplace, a cacophony of sounds and smells assaulting my senses. Blending into the crowd, I navigated the maze of stalls, my clothes already marking me as an outsider.
Elbowing through the throng of people, I soaked in the sights and sounds of the marketplace. Exotic food vendors tempted passersby with pungent aromas, brightly colored fabrics draped stalls, and children's laughter mingled with the rhythmic shouts of merchants hawking their wares.
While the sights were distracting, I kept my ears open, eavesdropping on conversations, gathering any scraps of information that might prove useful. Rumors about a tyrannical governor, whispers of a rebellion brewing in the underbelly of the city – knowledge was power, and I was desperate to accumulate both.
After what felt like an eternity, I emerged from the bustling marketplace, blinking in the harsh desert sunlight. Ahead stretched the dusty path leading back to the city. Spotting a group of local guards patrolling the perimeter, their polished armor glinting in the sun, a pang of envy shot through me. That kind of protection would be invaluable.
Suddenly, a commotion erupted from somewhere down the street. Heads turned, a crowd began to gather, and a pair of guards jogged towards the source of the ruckus. A woman's shrill voice and a man's angry shouts cut through the air – a domestic dispute, perhaps? No need for me to get involved.
Smiling wryly, I continued my walk, the heat slowly baking the sweat onto my already dusty clothes. As I rounded a bend, however, a different kind of noise reached my ears – the unmistakable sounds of a struggle. Curiosity piqued, I glanced down a dark alleyway to my right.
Using Eagle Eye, I peered into the inky darkness. There, in a narrow passage, a lone figure was locked in a desperate battle against eight attackers. The outnumbered combatant, though clearly skilled, was steadily losing ground, their blows becoming weaker, their defense faltering.
A grin stretched across my face. This was my chance. "System," I muttered mentally, "show me some combat abilities I can purchase."
A list materialized in my mind.
[Martial Arts Basic (Tier 0): 30 Credits
Fireball Jutsu (Tier 2): 1,000 Credits
Lion Strength (Tier 1): 200 Credits
Cat Reflexes (Tier 2): 900 Credits]
Fireball Jutsu was tempting, but way out of my current budget. Besides, collateral damage in a crowded city wasn't exactly ideal. Lion Strength and Cat Reflexes, however…now that was a winning combination. With a decisive nod, I mentally confirmed my choices.
[Purchased confirmed], the system replied.
I waited for a surge of power, a heightened awareness, anything. Feeling nothing different, I sent a silent question to the system. "Did it work?"
[Yes Host, the abilities have been transferred.]
Good. No time to waste. With newfound confidence, I strode towards the dark alley, a predator stalking its prey.
Stepping into the alley, the air hung thick with the smell of sweat and desperation. Eight goons surrounded a lone guy, kicking him around like a ragdoll. Blood seeped through his clothes, and he looked like he was about two good kicks away from becoming a permanent resident of the gutter.
"Alright, break it up!" I announced, my voice echoing off the brick walls.
Heads snapped towards me. Surprise flickered across their meaty faces, followed by a chorus of jeering laughter. One of them, the biggest dude with a shaved head and a face that looked like it had been smacked with a shovel a few too many times, sauntered over. He landed a hand, heavy and calloused, on my shoulder.
"Well, well," he sneered, amusement lacing his voice. "Lookie here. Fancy clothes and all."
His hand lingered on my shoulder a beat too long. Mistake. With a surge of newfound strength – thanks, system! – I clamped down on his wrist. The satisfying crack of bone echoed through the alley, and the dude shrieked like a stepped-on roach. His hand went all floppy and dangly, definitely not how hands are supposed to be.
The other goons, their earlier amusement replaced with wide-eyed shock, charged. Except, this time, things were different. The world seemed to slow down, their attacks like punches thrown underwater. Thanks to my awesome cat reflexes (courtesy of the system, again!), I weaved through their clumsy swings like I was Neo dodging bullets in the Matrix.
Bam! Fist met jaw, lights out for the first goon. Crack! Knee met groin, the second dude crumpled like a startled origami crane. The rest went down in a domino effect of punches, kicks, and general pain-inducing mayhem. Finally, the last one, a quivering mess of terror, stumbled back. A casual backhand later, and he joined his unconscious buddies on the cold, hard floor.
Standing there, surrounded by groaning heaps, I felt a surge of something… primal. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe it was just the knowledge that I could handle myself in this crazy, messed-up world. Either way, it felt pretty damn good. Guess I was officially a survivor in the whacky reality of Warhammer 40k. Sweet.
My gaze snapped back to the figure huddled against the wall. Blood caked his face, but his eyes, wide with shock and something that suspiciously resembled hero worship, held me captive.
"Hey, dude," I said, my voice softer now. "You alright?"
He pushed himself up cautiously, wincing as his body protested the recent beatdown. "Who are you?" he rasped, his voice hoarse.
A mischievous grin spread across my face. Maybe getting jumped in a dark alley wasn't such a bad thing after all. This kid, battered and bruised but with a spark of gratitude in his eyes, could be an opportunity.
"Me?" I said, puffing out my chest a little. "Let's just say I'm the guy who crushes any threat in this world." Okay, maybe a tad overdramatic, but hey, confidence is key, right?
The kid's eyes widened further, a low whistle escaping his lips. "Wow," he breathed. Perfect. Hook, line, and sinker.
"Thank you, sir," he stammered, bowing clumsily. "For saving my life. If there's anything I can do, anything at all…"
His voice trailed off, but the desperate plea in his eyes spoke volumes. This was it. My chance to leverage this situation to my advantage. A slow smile played on my lips.
"Actually," I drawled, "there might be something." I gave him a slow, deliberate once-over. He wasn't much older than eighteen, skinny with scrappy brown hair and a defiant glint in his eyes. Not a bad build, though, and with a little training…
"See, this world," I continued, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "it's a dangerous place. Full of threats around every corner. And a guy like me, a guy who keeps the peace, well, he needs help. Someone to watch his back, you know?"
The kid's chest puffed out a little, a flicker of pride replacing the earlier fear. Bingo. He was buying it.
"So," I leaned in closer, "what do you say, kid? Interested in becoming my right-hand man? My…underling?"
"Really?" he breathed, his voice barely a whisper. The hero worship in his eyes intensified.
"Absolutely," I chuckled. "But first, you need a bit of a clean-up." He did look like he'd just crawled out of a tomb.
Reaching into my backpack, I retrieved the Infinite Water Case. "Come closer," I instructed, "and close your eyes."
He shuffled closer, doing as I said. With a flick of my wrist, the case opened, and a gentle stream of water erupted. His initial flinch quickly melted away into a sigh of relief as he let the cool liquid wash away the grime and blood. As he cleaned himself up, I tended to his more obvious injuries, the system's pain suppression kicking in to ease his discomfort.
Once he was presentable, I secured the Infinite Water Case back in my pack. Glancing down at the unconscious goons, a mischievous glint entered my eyes. This little ambush had turned into a treasure trove.
One by one, I rummaged through their pockets, my bounty slowly accumulating. Fifty silver coins, a crudely drawn map, and three Vox Casters – not a bad haul! Stuffing the coins into my pocket, I held up the map and Vox Casters for him to see.
"Looks like these guys were up to something," I said, a playful lilt to my voice. "Think you're up for a little adventure, underling?"
He grinned, a spark of newfound purpose replacing the fear that had clouded his eyes earlier. "Lead the way, boss."
Exiting the dark alley, a sudden thought struck me. "Hey," I said, turning back to him. "Almost forgot, what's your name?"
"Jek, sir," he replied, managing a wobbly smile despite the throbbing pain in his body. He even juggled the map and three Vox Casters without complaint. Impressive.
I clapped him on the shoulder in a friendly gesture. "James Newitt, at your service. Consider 'Sir' or 'boss' appropriate forms of address."
He gave a quick nod, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. Chuckling, I launched into a fabricated story about a man embroiled in an epic battle with his wife over the last slice of pie. Jek listened intently, a welcome distraction from his recent ordeal. As the tale unfolded, a genuine laugh escaped his lips, the first I'd heard from him.
Maybe, just maybe, this partnership wouldn't be so bad after all. With a newfound companion by my side, the sprawling city of Tartarus seemed a little less daunting, a little more filled with possibilities of control in the grim darkness.
