Chapter 32: The Mechanicus' Bounty
POV: Goss
"Hahaha, mine, mine, mine!" I cackled gleefully as I rummaged through the remains of the Gun Rats' warehouse, searching for anything of value. Traps, materials, and scrap—anything I could use—I snatched up like a Magos hoarding archeotech.
Earlier, I had called in the Banshee to help haul my spoils. Margaret, ever the reluctant assistant, begrudgingly dragged a cart behind her as I sifted through the assorted weapons, tools, and assorted detritus that the scum had stashed away. The others were here as well, systematically looting per Mr. Jacobs' orders. He wanted this place stripped bare before we razed it to the ground.
The shelves around me groaned under the weight of their cargo—lasguns, explosives, saws, tools. A veritable treasure trove of destruction. Satisfied with the haul, I turned to Margaret, who was already struggling to drag the cart laden with supplies.
"Oi, put this on the cart, and be careful," I ordered, heaving another crate onto the pile. "There's explosives in it."
She scoffed, muttering a curse under her breath, but I ignored her as I moved deeper into the warehouse, eyes scanning for anything particularly valuable. The deeper I went, the more promising the stockpile became.
Then, something unusual caught my eye—a reinforced door, its edges lined with warning sigils. Signs of caution were nailed into the walls around it, a clear indication that whatever lay beyond was meant to be kept out of reach.
Curiosity overtook caution. I reached into my pack, retrieving my rebreather mask. With a hiss, the twin filtration cylinders locked into place. The familiar, sterilized scent of purified air filled my lungs.
I reached for the door and pulled it open, revealing a descending stairwell shrouded in darkness. My wrist-mounted lumen flickered to life, casting eerie shadows on the walls as I stepped forward.
As I descended, my mask began to beep—a warning. My screen flickered to life, displaying the analysis: the air down here was toxic. A quick recalibration of the mask's filters ensured none of it seeped through.
With the air accounted for, I pressed on. The stairs ended in a narrow hallway leading to a thick, reinforced metal door. Something wasn't right.
Stopping mid-step, I tapped my wrist console, deploying a small drone that shot forth, scanning the area with crimson beams. The results fed back instantly—a labyrinth of laser-based security measures filled the corridor, ready to burn any intruder to cinders.
"Ahh, now this is interesting," I muttered, rubbing my chin. Whoever set this up was either incredibly confident or incredibly stupid.
Analyzing the layout, I traced the conduit running along the walls, feeding power to the entire system. A single weak point glowed bright on my screen. Smirking, I unholstered my laspistol, took careful aim, and squeezed the trigger. The energy bolt struck true, searing through the conduit and sending a shower of sparks cascading onto the floor. The red security lights flickered, then died, as the entire defense grid powered down.
I holstered my pistol and strode forward. With a push, the heavy door groaned open, revealing what lay beyond.
My breath hitched, my eyes widened, and for the first time in a long while, I felt something akin to reverence.
Before me, resting in eerie silence, was a suit of power armor—or at least the skeletal remains of one. Its ceramite plating, though unpainted and incomplete, still exuded an aura of dominance. The lower chest plating was absent, the gauntlets missing, and the helmet nowhere in sight. But the frame…
The frame was intact. And that alone was worth its weight in thrones.
Greed threatened to cloud my thoughts, but I pushed it back. This was not just some salvage. This was potential.
My fingers trembled as I activated my vox, immediately connecting to Margaret.
~"Banshee, drop whatever you're doing and get down here. Now. I've found something far more valuable than whatever scrap you're hauling."~
As I cut the transmission, my mind raced, already piecing together schematics, modifications, and possibilities. With the right adjustments, the right materials…
Leon was going to have his own personal suit of power armor.
And the galaxy would tremble when he donned it.