I'd forgotten what the sunlight felt like. All I could remember was darkness, death and the unrelenting smell of stale air, pollution and chemicals. Normal for the fetid squaller of the undercity. Although I did thank my lucky stars, if I could say that about living in the Warhammer universe.
I didn't remember much from my past life; most of the memories were fuzzy, distant and untouchable. I remembered even less about a franchise I had little interest in, but it wasn't called Grimdark for nothing. It had certainly lived up to expectations so far.
Still, compared to some of the horror stories I had heard from other denizens, Glow Gate was paradise. Why, I didn't know. But it was stable, not safe, but predictable, at least more than other settlements, particularly ones this size and with its prime location.
This was especially true of this side of the Gulf. A massive crack hundreds of metres wide split the corridor that Glow Gate called home. It plunged who knows how far down, even when not choked in smoke and fog, we could never see the bottom. Some of the giant metal girders in the centre of this gap still existed. All that was left of the once major transport rail system that would have moved tonnes of resources to and from the now disused sector just outside the tunnel that Glow Gate sat on.
Dozens of bridges criss-crossed over, some no more than scaffolding, while others were substantial enough for large vehicles that regularly passed through.
Glow Gate stability could probably be traced back to the gang that ruled over this side of town: The Midnight Court.
The largest of the four gangs that all owned part of the town. The Trodden controlled the largest bridge across the Gulf. The Flesh Dealers and the Brethren of Bones held the other side, accepting convoys that came in from the ruined sector, that Glow Gate, abutted next to.
The fact that hundreds of thousands lived in what was essentially a corridor spoke volumes. A huge one to be sure, hundreds of metres across and just as many high. The city was a hodgepodge of mismatched buildings; some were heavy-duty converted structures left over from when this section of the hive was abandoned, and newer stuff put up as people moved in.
All sitting on top of each other, creating a confusing labyrinth of tunnels and streets. Outside of this, in the tunnels leading south away from Glow Gate and the ruined sector, were more of the same, dark abandoned structures with the occasional group of people, small settlement or mutated beasts.
In the north was the ruined hab block or sector. Twisted and rotting steel made up the dilapidated ravages of old structures, all covered and even berried in places with the fine ash of the wastes surrounding the hives. This fine polluted dust got in from the few exposed openings to the outside world, some hundreds of metres across.
This dust turned into a treacherous swamp near the entrance to our tunnel. Constantly shifting paths led through it, so only the locals knew the safe paths. A burst pipe in the ceiling created the swamp, cascading down like a waterfall from the tunnel above the Gulf. The water, which came from who know where, was incredibly toxic, dissolving all metal it had poured over and with enough water to make major rivers blush. A casualty of this polluted water was the aforenoted metal rail system.
Our neighbouring hive city, the largest of the cluster of 3 we were made up of, could also access our hive through some of these openings and did, smuggling things in and out. This connection to the outside and the Courts, relatively safe tunnels up to the lower city, the best for dozens of miles around, made it a major thoroughfare.
This combined the water and the air pressure, filled the tunnel we lived in with moisture, allowed the many different luminous vegetation to grow, giving the town its name. That and a regular food source that wasn't Corpse Starch, or if you had the backing, the ability to grow Lichenshade. A poisonous lichen, which, when processed, made a powerful hallucinogen, a favourite drug of the hive above.
I was in my little hidey-hole, a 2m by 2m and 50cm tall box hidden high up in the jungle of steel and rockrete that made up the settlement. Picking up my trusty folding knife and sack, I made for the exit. I didn't want to be late.
The town buzzed with activity and excitement. The disused lights were flickering to life, the very walls gently humming as some long-forgotten machine awoke.
The Tidefall.
Which meant only one thing: salvage. The chance to make it big, to find a relic or treasure to drag you out of your depressing life.
I had two reasons to be excited. It was that time of the month.
For as long as I could remember, I'd experienced what I called pulses. They'd started out at once a week but had slowed over the years. Now, at six, they came once a month. A surge of energy that flowed through me, changing me. I had no idea what they were, but I dared not speak of it.
Standing out was a good way to die, either as a heretic or by one of the many researchers hiding in the underhive so they could continue their experiments.
I truly believe it was the only reason I was alive. With every pulse, I could breathe a little easier, heal a little quicker and become a little more resistant to the pollution. The effect had lessened over time, with last month's pulse barely making a difference.
When they first started, it was like I could breathe for the first time; my lungs were finally working. Not necessarily the greatest in the polluted smog of the undercity, but the fumes also affected me less; even my memories grew sharper, clearer. Unfortunately, not the scattered remnants of my past life, but this one, they were vivid and easy to recall.
I waited, counting down the seconds and then the familiar tingling in my fingers, and the warmth in my chest spreading out through my body.
This time though, was different; instead of the pins and needles following this wave of heat heralding the arrival of the pulse, a silvery flame burst into being in my mind.
Freezing, I waited for something to happen, consumed by the warp or being pounced on by inquisitors. When nothing did, I slowly unclenched and then ever so tentatively prodded this ball of flame that was somehow at the centre of my being.
As soon as I did, I could feel it, guide it. Not entirely sure what was happening, I nudged it, trying to get it to do as it had always done. But it resisted, pushing back at me. I felt like I could force the spark, but didn't want to.
As I was thinking what to do, I felt my backpack on my shoulders which reminded me of the scavenging I needed to get to.
As soon as I thought about it, the spark flared to life, moving, growing and started to form something harder. No longer as malleable. As it solidified, I prodded the crystalised spark and I got back a word, a meaning, an idea. Salvage.
Before I could wonder what it all meant, I was smacked over as a deluge of information washed over me.
Slowly becoming aware of my surroundings once more, I carefully sat up. As I did, memories, not my own, flowed through me.
There were no emotional components, just knowledge. All to do with scavenging, not exactly useless to me, but not far off. It was incredibly broad, giving me information on not just imperial tech, but a whirlwind tour of many other species as well.
It was barely any information, just enough to know or have a good guess at what might be valuable. Going through them felt seamless, natural. Like they had always been there. Hoping I had not opened myself to chaos, but it had not hurt me before, so I was going to give it the benefit of the doubt.
Not that I could stop it anyway.
Shrugging, I started to make my way down to the streets below. I didn't want to miss the start of the Tidefall. The salvage from it was my main form of income. That and doing odd jobs for the Court.
I learned very early on that the gangs were the law down here, so ingratiating myself to them was a good idea. Particularly when they were reasonable. Well, maybe not reasonable, but predictable.
As long as you treated them with respect, they wouldn't flip out at you, which is more than can be said for some gangs and their members; some were just looking for a fight. That, or so they could throw their minimal amount of weight around. For some, just looking at them could be enough to start a fight. The Court had such a good rep in fact that I made the harrowing journey across the Gulf using the disused and dilapidated bridges.
Incredibly precarious and dangerous, one wrong move and I would have tumbled to the depths below, but they weren't gang-controlled, so no tolls. Otherwise, there would have been no way for me to pay my way across.
I'd almost made a name for myself, doing petty jobs for anyone affiliated with them, be that deliveries, messages or errands. I even got a nod from one of the Court's enforcers, so I must have been doing something right.
Or he had a nervous tic, one or the other. Don't get me wrong, the Court were still a gang in the undercity. Violent and would throw bodies at a conflict to keep what was theirs. And cross that at your peril.
But they were colder, calculating, transactional in their dealings. Like what I thought the mafia of the 60s from my old earth was like. An air of respectability that masked their ruthlessness underneath.
----
I joined the group of people milling around one of the access points and scanned the crowd. There were people of all colours, desperate scavengers, which, as much as I wanted to deny, was me, professional mercs and general gangers. All looking for a leg up.
We were all waiting like others across the town for the tunnels to clear so we could descend. Enforcers marched, keeping the peace. Merchants hawking anything and everything, from weapons to rations and last-minute supplies.
Not a terrible strategy.
After all, no one knew what waited below us, which was in part why Glow Gate still thrived. Once the arcane defences dropped and the toxic smog was sucked from the tunnels, we would be able to go down for an uncertain amount of time.
That was the risk. The Tidefall could last for days or even months; there was no way to tell until smoke started to fill the corridors once more. Then you'd better hightail it out of there and pray you were close enough to the exits.
The arcane defences were no laughing matter. I didn't know if it was true, but I had heard it killed off an entire troop of Astartes and tech priests.
After hundreds, maybe even thousands of years of scavenger teams, you would expect all salvage to be picked clean, but each time a new Tidefall started, the tunnels changed. So, every Tidefall had new rooms and tunnels to explore. It was unique in that respect, with fresh salvage and dangers.
Mutants, traps, turrets, rogue servitors, and even the environment. Not to mention fellow delvers. Occasionally, even nobles from up on high went exploring as a rite of passage. The deeper you went, the worse these dangers got, but then the more likely you were to run across something life-changing.
Or so the stories went. It could be just as likely that if you found anything, you were strong-armed and ended up with nothing.
The air shifted as ancient fans flared to life, dragging the toxic fumes deeper into the hive. It would take hours for the gas to be fully removed, but the defences were now down. Not wanting to miss out, I left the crowd and threaded my way through the rabbit warren of narrow streets until I ended up in a back alley overlooking the market I'd just left.
The small gap in the floor was overlooked by most, certainly the dozen or so souls now jostling for position to the larger tunnel at the market. There were dozens of these sorts of tunnels all across the Glow Gate.
The people below were all so different and yet the same. The same grime, with water far too precious to use to clean and sonic showers a luxury few could afford. The same tension and coiled aggression, waiting to be set off at the slightest provocation.
Their similarities only overshadowed their differences. Cybernetic implants, mutations, loud clothes and hairstyles. Some armed, some not. Some had the cool, calm demeanour of professionals, others the shifty, nervous energy of fresh meat.
Still, all were desperate and therefore dangerous; there was nothing they would not do to get ahead. They were down in the underhive, after all.
Squirming into the tunnel, I followed the slimy pipe down through the twists and turns, even climbing in places before dropping onto a narrow platform running beneath the overhang that the rest of Glow Gate sat on.
I'd found the path when I was very young, a tunnel far from the busier parts of the town and too small for most to use. The dirt and fine dust also marked it as uninhabited.
Looking down at the incredible view, the black void, I watched as the toxic fog slowly descended out of sight. Off to my right, the platform ran along the underside of the town, damaged and broken in places until it reached the start of the Gulf and climbed upward. All illuminated by the now temporarily working lights.
From there it climbed out of sight to join the tangled mess of bridges that crisscrossing the Gulf. I knew this because it was this very platform, part maintenance ledge, part pipe that I used to cross the town all those years ago.
Moving along the ledge, I headed in the opposite direction of the Gulf towards the distant wall, now revealed by the retreating fog. Already, I could see tunnel entrances both large and small, as well as people fighting for them. Some entrances were precarious, requiring climbing too; others had safe, wide paths to and from them.
Even as I watched, a fight broke out, and just like that, fourteen people were dead. I knew the exact same scene was playing out on the other side of the Gulf. It was probably mirrored all along the underhive, although I couldn't say for sure.
Reaching the wall, I used vents, pipes and ledges to climb down to the tunnel I was planned to explore first. It looked like an electrical one with cables spiralling through it, which might lead to some decent scrap. It was also narrow, further decreasing the likelihood that anyone else would try for it.
A few paces in, it opened out until I could stand, but also darkened. The lights from the outside not penetrating here. Reaching into my bag, I pulled out my trusty light, its dim glow illuminating just enough to guide me.
It still annoyed me how, in such a futuristic world, some items were so hard to get a hold of. A simple flashlight. Not some arcane item, just enough to see by. Four credits, the greedy bastard asked for. Four! I could have a crappy autopistol for that.
So, I was using the next best thing: a mushroom in a jar. A significantly cheaper option.
Free in fact.