Jackal Tark

Jackal Tark was definitely a celebrity in the Underhive!

Rumor had it that he hadn't originally been from the Underhive. He'd offended some nobles in the Mid-hive, suffered political persecution, and been forcibly exiled to the Underhive.

But Jackal Tark wasn't famous because of his origins or identity.

After all, every year, tens of thousands of people were persecuted by nobles and sent into exile. It was hardly anything special.

What had really made Jackal Tark famous was that the Crusader Gang, which had once ruled the Underhive, had smashed up his stall.

Then, without anyone noticing, Tark had infiltrated the Crusader Gang and cut off its leader's head, hanging it up at the entrance.

Nobody knew how Tark had pulled it off. But after that day, the Crusader Gang had shouted that they'd avenge their leader and mobilized every last member.

Just when everyone thought Tark was as good as dead, an astonishing reversal occurred!

Tark seemed to become a ghost—or perhaps the Grim Reaper, wielding a scythe—as he killed the Crusader Gang members one by one, cutting off their heads and tossing them at the gang's headquarters.

Before long, the Crusader Gang collapsed. They couldn't find "Tark" anywhere, and they were too afraid to close their eyes and sleep.

Because every time they closed their eyes, they might never open them again.

At last, as the pile of heads outside their door grew higher and higher, the Crusader Gang disbanded completely. Nobody dared to go after Tark anymore.

After that incident, people gave Tark the nickname "Jackal"!

It meant he was like a jackal: once he set his sights on a target, he clung to it and never let go, always ready to deliver a fatal blow—cruel and cunning.

When Alvin learned that the man before him was none other than "Jackal" Tark, he was shocked—and then a thought suddenly occurred to him.

Should he... tell Tark about the cult?

But he quickly snuffed out the idea.

Never mind whether Tark would believe him. Even if he told him the truth, what reason was there to think Tark would be willing to help?

And if he thought about it further, without knowing how large the cult was, Alvin couldn't even be sure Tark wasn't one of its members.

He didn't dare gamble, because losing would cost him his life!

Tark thought he couldn't pay. He flicked away some ash and scoffed. "Kid, don't tell me you've got nothing and still expect me to help you."

"No, Mr. Tark."

Alvin tossed over the gold wrapped in cloth. "Would this be enough as a token of my sincerity?"

Clang!

The cloth-wrapped gold landed on the table with a dull thud.

"Metal?"

Tark raised an eyebrow, seeming a little interested.

"Take a look, Mr. Tark." Alvin deliberately kept him guessing.

In truth, he was nervous too. Gold was definitely hard currency in 2K, but in 40K, there was no telling.

As Alvin watched, feeling rather anxious, Tark tore open the cloth and revealed several irregular chunks of bright, gleaming gold.

He'd done this on purpose, using his psychic power to knead the neat gold bars into lumps so they wouldn't look unusual.

"Is this... gold?"

Tark's voice rose several notches, surprise showing in his eyes. "Where did you get this?"

"From Waste Disposal Site 0-4." Alvin casually made up a story. "I pried it off a fancy-looking clock. It should be worth a lot, right?"

Holding the irregular chunks of gold, Tark studied Alvin thoughtfully. "This stuff's called gold. It's hard to find in the Underhive and Mid-hive. Only the nobles in the Upper-hive use it. Its value's hard to estimate, but it's definitely worth a lot more than you think."

Hearing him say that, Alvin finally relaxed. "Then I'll have to ask you to arrange for me to sneak into the Mid-hive as soon as possible."

"This is enough to buy you a Mid-hive resident's permit."

Tark watched him meaningfully. "Are you sure you only need to sneak in? You don't need me to get you a resident's permit?"

"You can get one?"

Alvin was genuinely surprised now. Just how capable was this guy?

"I can, but it'll take three months." Tark casually toyed with the gold. "I've never liked getting the short end of the stick, but I don't take advantage of people either. What do you say, kid?"

Three months was too long. By the time the permit was ready, the cult might have reached the Upper-hive. What use would it be then?

Alvin sighed inwardly and shook his head. "No, I'll sneak in."

"Oh?"

Tark half narrowed his eyes, as if scrutinizing Alvin.

After a moment, he grinned, picked up a cigarette from the table, lit it, and took a deep drag. "All right. You pay, I do the work. I won't ask why."

Alvin nodded calmly. "As soon as possible. I'm in a hurry."

"Come back in three days. I'll take you to the Mid-hive."

Tark flicked away some ash and said casually, "One gold piece is enough for the passage. I won't take advantage of you—I'll leave the other two. Anything else you need?"

"High-purity energy, a Deflection Field Generator, weapons, protective gear—anything like that." Alvin answered without hesitation.

These were the things he needed most right now, especially "high-purity energy."

"Heh. Those things aren't easy to get."

Tark thought for a moment, then glanced up at him with a grin. "But they're no problem for me. Forget the Deflection Field, though. Even the nobles at the very top barely have any of those. The rest I can get. Any special requirements?"

He was that capable?

Alvin was a little stunned. It seemed Tark had connections even deeper than he'd imagined.

After thinking for a moment, he shook his head and said, "Nothing special. The more powerful the weapons, the better."

"You planning to assassinate a noble, kid?"

Tark eyed him suspiciously. Sneaking into the Mid-hive with gear that powerful didn't exactly make him look like he had innocent intentions.

"I'm not an idiot, and I'm not looking to get myself killed."

Alvin shook his head with a rueful smile. "I offended some people and was forced to flee to the Mid-hive for refuge. The weapons are just for self-defense. That's all."

"Oh, I see..."

For some reason, Alvin couldn't help thinking Tark seemed a little disappointed.

"Fine. I've got the general idea."

The disappointment that had flickered in Tark's eyes vanished. He turned serious. "Come back in three days. If there's nothing else, you can go."

"I look forward to seeing you in three days, Mr. Tark."

With the deal settled, Alvin bowed slightly, then turned and left without hesitation.

He trusted "Jackal" Tark's character. After all, the man was famous in the Underhive for repaying favors and avenging grudges.

Watching Alvin leave from the second floor, Tark weighed the gold in his hand and couldn't help scoffing. "Heh. That kid's all lies. No matter how stupid the people in the Upper-hive are, they wouldn't throw gold down into the Underhive."

He knew the kid had secrets, but... Tark couldn't be bothered to dig into them.

There were plenty of people with secrets these days. If he investigated every single one, where would he find the time?

Besides, Tark thought the kid was interesting.

Somehow, it was as if a voice were telling him that the kid would bring him a big surprise in the future.

Just then, a tall, skinny man with a shrewd look rushed up to the second floor. He lowered his voice in a panic. "This is bad, boss! Something terrible's happened!"

"What happened? Catch your breath before you tell me."

Tark calmly turned around, sat down in his chair, lit a cheap cigarette, and crossed his legs. He looked utterly composed.

Perhaps it was Tark's composure that calmed the skinny man. He took several deep breaths, and once he'd settled down, he said gravely, "Just now, the Blood Axe Gang was wiped out by the Iron Hammer Gang!"

"That's what you call something terrible?"

Tark gave the skinny man an amused look and grumbled, "You're scared over something like that? The day every gang in the Underhive dies out—that'll be something worth worrying about."

So one gang had been wiped out. What was so terrible about that?

"Oh, boss, it's not that simple!" The skinny man went pale and swallowed nervously. "It wasn't just the Blood Axe Gang. More than three hundred scavengers in the eastern district were killed by the Iron Hammer Gang too. Not one of them survived!"

"More than three hundred scavengers were killed by the Iron Hammer Gang?"

At that, Tark's brows drew tight, and he suddenly straightened his back, his relaxed posture gone.

"Yeah! Most of the scavengers in the entire eastern district—except the ones who didn't go today—are dead!"

The skinny man wiped away his cold sweat. He still seemed frightened, and his voice trembled slightly. "You should've seen it! The whole garbage dump was stained red with blood. The Iron Hammer Gang's people were so cruel!"

"Just blood? No bodies?"

A grim suspicion suddenly surfaced in Tark's mind, and he hurriedly pressed him for details.

"N-no, I didn't see any bodies." The skinny man scratched his head. "There was only blood, and none of the scavengers came back."

Tark sat back down in his chair, but his eyes were now full of suspicion.

No bodies?