The Trade District of Sector 4 smelled worse than the mines.
It was a smell of burning plastic, ozone, and cheap synthetic meat. The narrow alleyways were crowded with stalls selling scavenged tech, filtered water, and questionable protein blocks.
Thalos walked through the crowd. He kept his hood low.
He carried a heavy canvas sack over his shoulder. Inside were the severed legs of the Razor Back Beetle. They were heavy, weighing nearly fifty pounds each, but to his new muscles, they felt like styrofoam.
He stopped in front of a shop built into the hollowed out rib of the Titan. A neon sign flickered above the door.
SILAS'S SALVAGE & SURGERY.
Thalos pushed through the heavy plastic curtains and stepped inside.
The shop was cluttered with jars of formaldehyde, rusted cybernetics, and piles of monster chitin. Behind the counter sat a man who was more machine than flesh.
Doc Silas.
Half of Silas's face was covered by a multi lens optical implant. His left arm was a mechanical manipulator arm, currently tinkering with a damaged laser rifle.
Silas did not look up. "We are closed, scavenger. Unless you are bleeding to death. Then it is fifty credits up front."
Thalos dropped the canvas sack onto the metal counter.
THUD.
The heavy impact made the jars on the shelves rattle.
Silas stopped working. His optical implant whirred, zooming in on the sack. He looked up at Thalos.
"That sounded heavy," Silas said, his voice raspy. "What did you drag in here, boy? Scrap metal?"
Thalos reached into the sack and pulled out a massive, black insect leg. It was still dripping with green ichor. The serrated spikes along the shin were sharp enough to shave with.
Silas stood up. His mechanical eye widened.
"Razor Back," Silas whispered. He reached out a metal finger to touch the chitin. "And it is fresh. The ichor hasn't even coagulated yet."
He looked at Thalos with a new intensity. "Where did a rat like you find a dead Razor Back?"
"It was not dead when I found it," Thalos lied smoothly. "It fell down a ventilation shaft. Broke its back on impact. I just finished it off."
Silas narrowed his organic eye. He did not believe it. Razor Backs did not just fall. But he was a merchant, not a detective. He did not care about the truth. He cared about the profit.
"The chitin is intact," Silas muttered, inspecting the leg. "Good quality. I can grind this down into armor plates. Or extract the toxins for acid rounds."
"How much?" Thalos asked.
Silas tapped his chin with a metal finger. "For two legs? I will give you a hundred credits."
Thalos did not blink. He reached for the leg. "I will take it to Red Jack's."
"Wait!" Silas snapped. He hated losing good inventory. "You scavengers are getting greedy. Fine. One fifty."
Thalos leaned forward. He placed his hands on the counter. The metal creaked slightly under his grip.
"Three hundred," Thalos said calmly. "And you throw in a vial of Crystal Lung Suppressant. Grade A."
Silas scoffed. "Grade A? Do you know how much that costs? That is military grade stuff from the Upper Spine. I can not just..."
Thalos applied a little more pressure. The steel counter groaned. The dent under his hand deepened.
Silas looked at the dent. Then he looked at Thalos's hand. It was grey. Textured.
Silas went very still. He had seen mutations before. He had seen the monsters the Titan created. But he had never seen a human hand dent steel like it was wet clay.
"You have changed, Thalos," Silas said softly.
"The mines change everyone, Doc," Thalos replied. "Do we have a deal?"
Silas held his gaze for a long moment. Then, he let out a sharp laugh.
"You got stones, kid. I will give you that."
Silas turned to the shelf behind him. He unlocked a heavy safe and pulled out a sleek, silver cylinder containing a vial of glowing blue liquid.
"Grade A Suppressant," Silas said, placing it on the counter. "This will clear out the lungs of a heavy smoker in ten seconds. Be careful with it. It is strong."
He then opened a drawer and counted out a stack of credit chips.
"Three hundred credits. And the medicine."
Thalos swept the credits and the vial into his pouch. Including the money he took from Jaker, he now had nearly a thousand credits.
He was rich.
"Pleasure doing business," Thalos said. He turned to leave.
"Thalos," Silas called out.
Thalos stopped at the door.
"If you are hunting things like Razor Backs," Silas said, his voice low. "Bring me the hearts. I pay double for the hearts."
Thalos did not turn around. He just nodded.
"I will keep that in mind."
Thalos emerged from the shop back into the crowded streets of the residential district.
The Ribs were built directly into the massive, curved bones of the Titan's chest cavity. Huts made of scrap metal and plastic tarps clung to the bone walls like barnacles. Neon signs buzzed and flickered, casting pink and green light over the muddy streets.
Thalos walked down the main thoroughfare toward his apartment block. Usually, he walked with his head down, shoulders hunched, trying to make himself small. In the Ribs, making eye contact was an invitation for a beating.
But today, he did not hunch.
He walked down the center of the street. His grey skin was hidden under his hood and mining cloak, but his stride was different. It was the heavy, confident walk of something that occupied space without apology.
He felt a strange satisfaction. The people here, the other scavengers, the low level criminals, they all moved out of his way. They could smell it on him. The predator scent.
He turned the corner toward his apartment block. It was a towering stack of rusted shipping containers welded together.
He stopped.
There were voices coming from the third floor walkway. Loud voices.
"I don't care if he is not home! Open the door, you little leech!"
Thalos recognized the voice. Varek. The landlord. A man who weighed three hundred pounds and had a reputation for throwing tenants off the walkway if they missed a payment.
Thalos narrowed his eyes. He broke into a run.
He bounded up the stairs, taking them three at a time. The metal staircase shook under his new weight.
He reached the third floor.
Varek was standing in front of Unit 404. He was hammering his massive fist against the flimsy metal door. Behind him stood two hired thugs holding stun batons.
"Open up!" Varek roared. "I know you are in there, girl! Your brother is two weeks late! Pay up or get out!"
Inside the apartment, Thalos could hear Elara coughing. It was a wet, panicked sound.
"Please," Elara's voice came through the door, weak and trembling. "Thalos will be back soon. He went to get the money."
"I am done waiting!" Varek shouted. He raised his heavy boot and kicked the door.
BANG.
The lock buckled. The door swung open.
Varek stepped inside, filling the small room. "Grab anything of value," he ordered his thugs. "Then throw her out."
Thalos did not shout. He did not negotiate.
He moved.
He covered the distance across the walkway in a blur of motion.
The first thug was standing guard at the door. He turned, hearing the footsteps, but he was too slow.
Thalos grabbed the thug by the collar of his jacket. With a single heave of his arm, he threw the man backward.
The thug flew five meters through the air, screaming, before crashing into a pile of garbage bags on the lower level.
Varek spun around, his face turning red. "Who the hell..."
He saw Thalos standing in the doorway.
"Thalos?" Varek blinked, confused. The boy looked bigger than he remembered. His shoulders were broader. And why was his skin... grey?
"Get out," Thalos said. His voice was calm, but it carried a dangerous weight.
Varek laughed. He was used to intimidating people. He stepped forward, looming over Thalos. "You got some nerve, rat. You throw my man? I am going to break your legs for that. And then I am going to take your sister and sell her to the..."
Thalos moved faster than Varek's eyes could follow.
Thalos's hand shot out and clamped onto Varek's throat.
[Skill Activated: Hydraulic Grip.]
CRUNCH.
Varek's eyes bulged. He tried to speak, but he could not. Thalos lifted him.
He lifted the three hundred pound man one foot off the ground with a single arm.
Varek clawed at Thalos's hand, his legs kicking uselessly. He stared into the shadow of Thalos's hood and saw the glowing amber eyes.
"You were saying?" Thalos whispered.
The second thug inside the room raised his stun baton. "Put him down!"
Thalos glanced at the thug. He tightened his grip on Varek's neck just enough to make the cartilage creak.
"Drop it," Thalos ordered. "Or I snap his neck like a twig."
The thug looked at Varek's purple face. He looked at Thalos's inhuman grey hand.
The stun baton clattered to the floor.
Thalos turned back to Varek. He leaned in close.
"The rent is 200 credits," Thalos said.
He reached into his pocket with his free hand and pulled out the credit chip. He jammed it into Varek's shirt pocket.
"There is 650 on that chip. Keep the change."
Thalos threw Varek backward. The massive landlord stumbled and fell hard onto the metal walkway, gasping for air, clutching his bruised throat.
"If you ever touch this door again," Thalos said, his voice dropping to a hiss, "I will not pay you. I will eat you."
Varek scrambled backward, terror in his eyes. He had been a bully in Sector 4 for ten years, but he knew a monster when he saw one.
"Let's go," Varek wheezed to his thug. "Move!"
They ran. They did not look back.
Thalos stood in the doorway for a moment, listening to their footsteps fade. He took a deep breath, willing his eyes to stop glowing, willing the grey scales on his skin to soften.
He turned around.
The apartment was a mess. But in the corner, huddled on a mattress, was a thin girl with pale skin and dark circles under her eyes.
Elara was staring at him. She looked terrified.
"Thalos?" she whispered. "What... what happened to your hand?"
Thalos looked down. His hand was still grey, the nails sharp and black. He quickly pulled his sleeve down.
"I found a way, El," Thalos said gently, walking toward her and pulling the silver cylinder from his pocket. "I found a way to fix everything."
[System Notification]
[Territory Secured.]
[XP Gained: 50.]
The hunger pang hit him again, sharper this time. He had scared off the landlord, but the System demanded fuel. The Beetle leg had only been a snack.
He needed real food.
But first, he had a sister to save.