The Sump didn't do straight lines. It was a tangle of rusted pipes, leaking steam vents, and the hollowed-out husks of machines that probably had a purpose three centuries ago. To the UGL, this was Level 1—the crawlspace beneath the neon-soaked luxury of the Midway. To Asher, it was just another tactical sandbox, only this one smelled like a locker room and old grease.
He moved through a maintenance shaft, his skin—reinforced with the mineral-dense plating he'd scavenged from that Crag-Walker's neck—scraping against the vibrating zinc walls. There was no pain, just a dull, rhythmic thud that vibrated in his teeth.
On his back, Chen Yu—callsign: Cipher—hung like a broken mannequin. His legs were useless sticks of bone, strapped into a harness Asher had rigged from tactical webbing. Cipher's eyes were shut, but his fingers were twitching against the air, playing an invisible piano.
"He's close," Su Wan's voice echoed in the back of Asher's skull. She was trailing five paces behind, her eyes glazed, trying to navigate the psychic sewage of ten thousand screaming alien minds. "I can feel him. He's... cold. Like a calculator left in the rain. That's Cipher."
"Keep the link narrow, Wan," Asher muttered. He stopped to check a pressure gauge that was spinning uselessly. "The Wardens have psionic tripwires. You spike, they liquidate the whole sector. I'm not in the mood to be a red mist today."
They crawled out of the shaft and into a cavernous hole filled with suspended cages. This wasn't the clean, poly-carbon tube from the transport ship. These were rusted iron boxes, dripping with black condensation and misery. The 'Discount Market.' This was where the UGL dumped the broken toys.
Asher's eyes, adjusted to the dark and the isotopes, scanned the cage-rows. He didn't look for faces. He looked at the micro-vibrations in the support chains. He calculated the load-bearing capacity of the rusted pulleys.
If I drop that center cage, the resonance should snap the three adjacent locks. Lazy engineering. Over-reliance on gravity-dampeners.
"There," Su Wan whispered, pointing toward a cage hanging near a leaking coolant pipe.
Inside, a man sat in a rusted exoskeleton chair. His legs were atrophied, but his eyes... they were glowing with a faint, overstressed blue light. A holographic tag flickered above the bars:
[U.G.L. ASSET EVALUATION]Target: Asset #102 (Local: Cipher) Condition: Critical. Physical chassis 80% failure. Current Valuation: 1 Star Credit. Analyst Note:High-processing brain in a trash-body. Hardware salvage only.
"One credit," Asher whispered. His mouth tasted like he'd been sucking on a copper pipe. "They priced a quantum strategist at the cost of a cup of lukewarm synthetic coffee."
Maybe I should have brought a gun. No. Too loud. A rock would be better.
"He's dying, Asher," Su Wan said, her fingers digging into his forearm. "He's trying to overclock his neurons to hack the lock, but he hasn't eaten in three cycles. He's burning his own nervous system for fuel."
Asher didn't rush in. He watched the shadows beneath the cage. Three 'Dreg-Stalkers'—lanky, six-armed things with needle-teeth—were circling like vultures. They weren't there to buy. They were waiting for the cage to go 'Dark' so they could feast on the scrap and the meat.
Action -> Reaction.
Asher didn't draw a blade. He reached into his rags and pulled out a handful of the mineral-dust he'd scraped off the Crag-Walker. He calculated the draft coming from the ventilation fans. It was a weak, pulsing breeze.
He threw the dust.
It wasn't a "heroic" throw. It was a dirty trick. The dust hit the intake of the coolant pipe, causing the pressure to spike. A burst of scalding vapor hissed out, filling the room with a white fog. The Stalkers shrieked, their sensitive eyes blinded by the flash-heat.
Asher lunged. He didn't use a "Tyrant" strike. He just slammed his reinforced heel into the lead Stalker's knee. The sound of bone snapping was wet and satisfying. He didn't kill it. Killing takes time. He grabbed the cage's manual winch and hauled with everything his mutation had to give.
The cage hit the floor with a bone-jarring rattle.
"Cipher," Asher growled, ripping the rusted bars open with a scream of protest from the metal.
Chen Yu lifted his head. His face was a map of exhaustion. "Asher? I... calculated a 0.04% chance of you surviving the intake. You're late. I almost started thinking for myself."
"The market was slow," Asher said.
"Don't... don't move the chair yet," Cipher wheezed, his fingers dancing over a makeshift keypad wired into his own arm. "The UGL has a local-area heartbeat pulse. If you move me out of the 'Salvage Zone' without a transaction ID, the collar detonates. You have to buy me, King."
"I'm broke, Yu. We spent our last portion of paste just getting here."
"Then earn a credit," Cipher pointed a trembling finger toward a central terminal guarded by a Warden drone. "There's a Grade-G Sludge-Worm in the primary ventilation shaft. It's been clogging the filters. UGL put a 5-credit bounty on its core. Go be a hero. Or a pest control guy. Whatever."
Asher looked at the Warden. He looked at the shadows where more Stalkers were gathering, their six-armed silhouettes getting bolder. He looked at Su Wan, who was wiping more syrupy blood from her lip.
High-IQ Logic: Don't fight the worm. Fight the system.
"I'm not hunting worms for 5 credits," Asher said. His eyes locked onto a 'Patron'—a multi-eyed alien in a silk-spun suit—walking the upper gantry, flanked by armored thugs. The Patron was looking for 'Spicy' gladiator prospects.
Asher looked at Cipher. "Hack the gantry's lighting. Give me five seconds of high-frequency strobe. Su Wan, I need an emotional broadcast. Not fear. Indignation. Absolute, world-burning rage. Aim it right at that multi-eyed prick."
"Asher, that'll draw the Wardens!" Su Wan gasped.
"Do it," Asher snapped. "The UGL doesn't buy warriors. They buy narratives. And nothing sells better than a Fallen King demanding his property back."
Cipher grinned, his teeth red with gum-bleed. "Emotional marketing. Manipulating the buyer's neuro-chemistry. I can work with that. Initiating strobe... now."
The chamber didn't just flicker. It became a seizure-inducing nightmare.
The Multi-Arm Patron staggered, its complex eyes locking up as the strobe bypassed its visual processors. Su Wan broadcasted a psychic wave of such pure, arrogant fury that the guards actually took a step back.
Asher stepped into the flickering light. He didn't look like a slave. He stood with the posture of a man who owned the floor, the cages, and the air everyone else was breathing. He held up his hand, letting the grey, mineral-veined skin catch the light.
"Audit me, you coward!" Asher roared at the gantry.
The Patron's lead guard leveled a pulse-rifle, but the Patron held up a shaking hand. It looked at its tablet. It saw Asher's base valuation: 12.5 SC. Then it saw the 'Violence Potential' chart, which was currently off the damn map.
[U.G.L. ASSET TERMINAL - LIVE FEED]Target: Asset #492 (Asher) Observation: Specimen is utilizing environmental physics to suppress superior species. Evaluation:Potential 'Heel' for the Season Opener. Buyer Interest: SPIKING.
The Patron leaned over the railing, its voice a wet gurgle. "You... human. You claim a story?"
"I claim a debt," Asher said, his voice flat and cold. "But today, I'll settle for my Rat. Buy him, or I'll dismantle your guards and cost you ten thousand credits in medical bills and hardware repairs. Do the math."
The Patron let out a sound like a bubbling pipe—a laugh. "Indignation. The spicy scent of a King in the mud. Fine. One credit is a rounding error for this level of entertainment."
The Patron tapped a command. Cipher's cage lock hissed. The Slave-Collar shifted from red to yellow—'Leased.'
Asher stepped forward, lifting Cipher and the heavy chair in one move. He didn't say thank you. He looked the Patron in its largest eye. "You'll regret the investment."
"Oh, I hope so," the Patron whispered. "See you in the Arena, #492."
As they retreated into the dark vents, Cipher looked at Asher. "You just sold our souls to a 'Buyer' for one credit. My math says we are now 400% more likely to be put in a deathmatch within the next hour."
"Correct," Asher said, his eyes already scanning the map Cipher had just downloaded from the gantry's local network. "But we have a Rat in the system now. Su Wan, link the team. Cipher, find me the weakness in the station's Star-Credit exchange. If we're going to die for that multi-eyed prick, I want to make sure the house goes bankrupt doing it."