Lynn pulled a card from inside his clothes and tossed it in front of Butcher. These were credits he had just seized from the Sharktooth Gang.
"This is a thousand credits. Startup funds.
I'll get a compliance certificate for that scrapyard of yours, so you'll have a front for now.
But remember."
He bent down and lightly tapped the muzzle of his Laspistol against the wound on Butcher's forehead, setting off another spasm.
"If you betray me, I'll convert you completely and turn you into a real Xenos.
If you're efficient, I'll let you live better than before. Your life is in my hands now."
[System notification: Hidden achievement [Dominion Enlightenment] unlocked.] Bound target "Rena" expressed slight approval of the host's behavioral logic in efficiently controlling a potential threat and converting it into a sustainable resource channel. Affection +1. Current affection: -27.
Lynn glanced at the system notifications out of the corner of his eye, marveling that even this could work.
He turned to Rena, who remained as silent as a statue, her compound eyes fixed on him as though waiting for something.
"Clean up the traces, then return to the nest and stand by, Rena."
Lynn sent the concise thought through the system.
This was a function he had only recently discovered: within a certain distance, the system could serve as a text messaging service.
And as her affection increased, that range continued to expand.
Rena's slender body paused slightly, then she gave a short, low hiss of acknowledgment.
She turned and walked lightly away, taking the remaining Hormagaunts and Termagants with her.
Like ghosts merging into the shadows, they vanished into a pipe entrance deep inside the warehouse.
Only a few Hormagaunts stayed behind, swiftly licking up the last bloodstains and remnants of tissue from the floor, even chewing up and swallowing the scraps of fabric.
Deathly silence returned to the warehouse, leaving only Lynn, the limp Butcher, and the sweet, bloody stench that had yet to dissipate.
Lynn took one last look at this place where bloodshed and lies had begun, then turned toward the exit.
His steps were steady, his silhouette stretching beneath the pallid lights before merging into the Hive City's eternal night.
Lynn's intended role for the Anvil Society was simple and direct: a tentacle hidden in the shadows, dedicated to seizing resources and intelligence for him.
And Lynn's next goal was just as simple: harvest the other gangs.
He had no fondness for these scum who did nothing but suck up scraps from the rotten soil at the bottom of the Hive City and bully those weaker than themselves.
Making them nutrients for Rena would at least give these wormlike lives some final value.
For the first harvest, he set his sights on the Rusty Nail Gang.
A gang that controlled several narrow smuggling pipes and a small underground weapons modification den.
Tax records showed that they had recently taken possession of a batch of rare metals of dubious origin and several crates of military-grade Lasgun power packs.
These were all resources Lynn needed now.
There were no carefully designed negotiation traps, only the most direct violence.
Lynn had Butcher put out word under the pretext of "discussing territorial boundaries and cooperation."
He arranged to meet the Rusty Nail Gang at a junction of abandoned maintenance pipes on the edge of District Seven.
The place was a tangled maze with tremendous echoes: a perfect killing ground, and an excellent place for bodies to disappear.
On the night of the operation, Lynn stayed somewhere relatively safe, waiting for it to begin.
Rena, meanwhile, lay in ambush along the route the Rusty Nail Gang had to take, like a dump truck poised to charge.
Question: How do you guarantee a hundred-percent win rate in an arranged fight?
Answer: Ambush them with a dump truck on their way there.
Her consciousness was like a precisely spread hunting net, with more than twenty Hormagaunts and Termagants acting as extensions of her limbs.
They lurked silently behind the ventilation grilles above the target area and in the shadows of the rusted maintenance shafts on either side.
The Rusty Nail Gang arrived, cursing and grumbling.
All dozen or so of their core enforcers had come this time, determined to teach the newly arrived Anvil Society a lesson.
Their boots squelched through pools of accumulated oily water, while flashlight beams slashed haphazardly through the gloom.
They carried weapons, their faces wearing the vicious look unique to bottom-rung gangs, a mixture of greed and wariness.
At the very instant the middle of their column fully entered the ambush zone.
The hunting net closed.
The ventilation grilles crashed down, and shadows poured out like a waterfall.
The maintenance shaft covers on either side were blasted off by tremendous force from within, and more twisted figures surged out amid inhuman hisses.
The narrow pipe instantly became a slaughterhouse.
The Hormagaunts' bone blades traced pallid arcs through the dim light, easily slicing through flesh and severing bones.
The acidic spore rounds fired by the Termagants splashed through the enclosed space, hissing as they struck human bodies.
They ate pits into the metal walls where they landed, mingling with the victims' brief, piercing screams.
Two gang members who reacted a little faster tried to flee backward, only to be pounced on by Hormagaunts waiting in the shadows around the corner the moment they turned.
Bone blades pierced the backs of their necks or their spines with precision, ending all sound and movement.
The entire process, from the first strange noise to the last body ceasing to twitch, took less than thirty seconds.
Rena also remembered Lynn's request: leave two relatively intact bodies to stage the scene.
The rest were all dragged away to become her "dinner."
Butcher "arrived late" with a dozen or so newly recruited subordinates who were still trembling with fear.
All they saw were the chaotic traces of a battle.
Blood splashed on the walls had already begun to clot and darken, while damaged weapons and scraps of clothing littered the floor.
And the two bodies Lynn had specifically ordered left behind.
The air was thick with the reek of blood, acid corrosion, and an indescribable sweet, bloody odor.
Following Lynn's instructions from beforehand, Butcher directed his men to make the scene look more like a fierce gang shootout.
These underlings had their doubts too, but they were only alive thanks to Butcher's "charity."
Whatever happened, as long as they had food to eat, what did it matter if they threw in their lot with Xenos?
They used the homemade explosives they had brought to create blast marks at key points, scattering shell casings of different types all around.
They even deliberately left behind a few distinctive items belonging to other small gangs.
Then they quickly cleared out all the valuable spoils.
More than a dozen reasonably well-maintained firearms, the batch of rare metals and power packs the Rusty Nail Gang had stashed away.
There was also a Dataslate recording the locations of several other hidden warehouses.
The haul exceeded expectations.
Lynn took all the rare metals, the power packs, and half the credits.
These would be converted into Rena's "snacks," healing potions, and upgrades for his own equipment.
He left the remaining guns and money to the Anvil Society, and ordered Butcher to seize the opportunity to take over the two smuggling pipes the Rusty Nail Gang had left behind.
With all its core enforcers dead, the Rust Gang was easily absorbed by Butcher.
The neighboring, more powerful Bloodblade Gang soon caught the scent of blood and the power vacuum.
They tentatively tried to extend their claws and claim a share.
Lynn's response was direct and efficient.