This Alpha Primitive seemed to have reached the limit of its designed lifespan, with obvious signs of aging in its appearance.
Even so, the artificial creature remained strong. It was quite peculiar for a labor caste that had broken away from community command to cooperate with an Inhuman. One could be certain that Alpha Primitives were incapable of remembering any client's characteristics, ensuring that No-Nose would always retain control of the business. But no one here was interested in investigating how this Alpha Primitive's arrangement with the Inhuman worked.
In the eyes of this Alpha Primitive, which had a name rather than a number, there was indeed only one customer: Gronov Rutov. The shadows filing into the pipes behind Gronov Rutov were nothing at all. The Alpha Primitive could not comprehend such things, nor was it curious about Gronov Rutov's identity. Being large and wearing Power Armor was nothing particularly unusual in Attilan. Especially to No-Nose and this big fool, it was something belonging to the upper class; it was perfectly normal that they had never seen it before. No-Nose was somewhat surprised that his usually keen sense of smell had failed him, but that was all. Even if his weak eyes had not been gouged out, they would not have been able to see the pipe now packed full with five giants.
No-Nose gripped the pipe grating tightly and, with the help of the hinges, slammed it shut. Apart from Gronov Rutov's deliberately audible footsteps, the other Gene-modded Warriors crossed the rusted iron walls and filthy pooled water without making a sound. As No-Nose listened to the footsteps gradually fade away, he slowly relaxed. Under the observation of the squad's monitors left outside, No-Nose wiped the rust from his hands on his trousers, then returned to his usual idle,