Raynor pulled a card from his pocket and flicked it toward the Butcher. It was a thousand credits he had just squeezed from the Sharktooth Gang's coffers.
"This is 1,000 points. Start the fund."
The Butcher fumbled to catch it. Raynor continued, his voice cold and commanding. "I'll secure a compliance certificate for that recycling station you mentioned. It'll serve as your front for now. But remember this..."
He leaned down, the muzzle of his laser pistol pressing lightly against the acid-charred wound on the Butcher's cheek. The man spasmed in pain. "If you betray me, I won't just kill you. I will transform you. I'll turn you into a true xenos, piece by piece. Work efficiently, and you'll live better than you ever did before. Your fate is in my hands now."
[System Notification: Hidden Achievement "Domination Enlightenment" completed.] The bound target "Sarah" shows weak approval for the host's logic of efficiently controlling threats and transforming them into sustainable resource channels. [Favorability +1. Current Rating: -27.]
Raynor glanced at the notification out of the corner of his eye. He was surprised; apparently, Sarah respected a cold-blooded pragmatist more than a merciful one.
He turned to Sarah. She remained as silent as a statue, her compound eyes fixed on him as if awaiting a final command.
Clean up the traces. Return to the lair and await my orders, Sarah.
Raynor conveyed the message through the system. He had recently discovered this feature—within a certain range, the system functioned as a silent, instantaneous messaging service. As her favorability rose, the range seemed to expand.
Sarah's massive frame paused, then she let out a short, low hiss of acknowledgement. She turned and vanished with light, ghostly steps, her Hormagaunts and Termagants following in her wake. They merged into the shadows of the deep pipes like spirits of the void. Only a few gaunts lingered for a moment, licking the last traces of blood from the floor and swallowing scraps of cloth to leave the site pristine.
The warehouse returned to a deathly silence, leaving only Raynor, the trembling Butcher, and the lingering, sweet-fishy smell of the swarm. Raynor took one last look at the place where his empire of blood and lies had begun, then turned toward the exit.
Raynor's vision for the "Anvil Society" was simple: a hidden tentacle dedicated to acquiring intelligence and biomass. His next objective was the consolidation of power. He had no love for the street-scum who bullied the weak in the Hive's gutters. To him, they were nothing more than nourishment for Sarah—the ultimate value for such worthless lives.
The first harvest would be the "Rust Gang."
They controlled several narrow smuggling routes and a small weapons modification site. Tax records showed they had recently acquired a shipment of rare metals and several crates of military-grade laser rifle power packs. These were exactly the resources Sarah needed to recover.
There were no elaborate negotiations. Raynor had the Butcher spread word of a meeting to "discuss territory division." He arranged for the Rust Gang's leadership to meet at an abandoned maintenance pipe intersection on the edge of Zone 7—a maze of echoes and shadows, perfect for an ambush.
On the night of the operation, Raynor stayed at a safe distance. Sarah, however, was positioned like a predator poised to pounce.
Question: How do you guarantee a 100% win rate?Answer: You don't bring a knife to a gunfight; you bring a Tyranid Hive Warrior to an ambush.
Sarah's consciousness was a precisely laid hunting net. More than twenty of her brood lurked behind ventilation grilles and within rusted maintenance shafts.
The Rust Gang arrived, grumbling and cursing. They had mobilized their core henchmen, determined to put the upstart "Anvil Society" in its place. Their boots splashed through stagnant, oily puddles, and their flashlight beams cut haphazardly through the dark. They were a typical Hive gang—a messy mix of greed and false bravado.
The moment the middle of their column entered the kill zone, the trap snapped shut.
Ventilation grilles tore free from the ceiling. Manhole covers were shattered from below by explosive force. Twisted, chitinous figures emerged with inhuman shrieks.
The narrow pipe became a slaughterhouse in seconds. Bone blades drew arcs of pale light through the gloom, severing limbs and heads with industrial efficiency. Acidic spores hissed as they struck flesh, melting through armor and bone alike. The victims' screams were short and gurgling.
Two gang members tried to flee, but they were cut down by gaunts waiting in the shadows behind them. The entire engagement—from the first snap of a bone blade to the last body hitting the floor—took less than thirty seconds.
Per Raynor's instructions, Sarah left two relatively intact corpses to help frame the scene. The rest were dragged into the darkness to serve as her "dinner."
The Butcher arrived late, leading a dozen trembling new recruits. All they found was a scene of total devastation. Blood, already blackened and congealing, splattered the walls. Broken weapons lay scattered among shredded clothing.
The Butcher directed his men to stage the area to look like a fierce inter-gang skirmish. They used homemade explosives to create scorch marks and scattered shell casings from different weapon types. They even left behind a few trinkets belonging to the rival "Blood Blade Gang" to lead investigators astray.
Then, they cleared the loot. A dozen well-maintained guns, a hoard of rare metals, and a mountain of energy packs.
The results exceeded expectations. Raynor took the rare metals, the energy packs, and half the credits—Sarah's "snacks" and "medicines." The guns and the remaining cash were left to the Anvil Society.
The Rust Gang was gone, and the Butcher moved quickly to swallow their routes. However, the more powerful "Blood Blade Gang" soon caught the scent of the power vacuum and moved to take their share.
Raynor's response was direct. If they wanted a piece of the pie, he would give them the whole thing—along with the monsters hiding inside it.