Chapter 165: A Double-Audit of Armored Assets
Kian Voss emptied the remaining pressure from his flamer-unit, turning the theater's foyer into a consecrated fire-zone. The Poxwalkers, shrieking as the Emperor's resonance burned the Warp-lies from their minds, scattered into the dark streets like insects fleeing a torch.
Kian returned to his newly captured Chimera, swapped the empty fuel drum for a fresh one, and headed back to the theater's entrance.
The Nightingale Theater was a masterpiece of Spire architecture—an open-roof "Gothic-Amphitheater" design. Instead of a solid plasteel ceiling, the top was a gargantuan pane of reinforced ballistic glass. During the night cycle, the audience could look up and see the unfiltered stars of the segmentum. It was a selling point for the elite, but today, it was a tactical weakness.
Kian stood on the roof of his tank, pointed the flamer-wand at the sky, and arched a stream of liquid fire over the walls and into the theater's interior.
WHOOSH.
The raining "Holy Fire" turned the auditorium into a pressurized furnace. The Poxwalkers inside—who had been content to listen to their dissonant "Warp-Sinfonia"—were suddenly hit by the Emperor's wrath from above. The "Laughing Ones" finally stopped giggling. They broke cover, hundreds of them screaming in a panic that defied their previous serenity, and surged out of the main gates.
Once the crowd had cleared, Kian ignored the front door. He smashed a side-window with the butt of his Lasgun and vaulted into the building. He went straight for the basement.
The private armory was exactly as he had left it—pristine, silent, and overlooked by the passing horde. Kian went into a "Loot-Trance."
[LOOT ACQUIRED: THE NIGHTINGALE OVERFLOW]
20x High-pattern Las-pistols. (Kian stuffed them into his pack, along with 60 spare charge-mags).
5x standard Las-rifles. (The remains of the rack his squad hadn't cleared).
The Intelligence Core: Kian disconnected the Master-Pattern Cogitator Array—the same one Lady Nightingale had used to unlock the armory. He hauled the heavy "Brain-Box" and its green-flickering screens out toward the exit.
As he worked, the fire in the upper auditorium grew. The heavy velvet drapes and wooden seats were feeding the flames. Kian watched the smoke billow toward the Spire-ceiling.
"Lady Nightingale is wealthy enough," Kian muttered, hoisting the Cogitator onto his shoulder. "I doubt she'll miss one theater. Consider this a 'Space-King' insurance claim."
He moved the haul to the Chimera's cargo bay and returned for one last sweep. He noticed two heavy iron lockers in the back corner, secured by ancient mechanical deadbolts.
Kian didn't have the key, but he had the Psionic Touch. He pressed his palm to the cold iron, extending a thread of Warp-energy into the lock.
Click-CLACK.
He threw open the doors. Inside were ten 30mm Heavy-Pattern Shotguns.
They were brutal, over-sized weapons with reinforced receivers and thick, rifled barrels. Kian was confused. Why lock these up? Standard Lasguns were left on the racks, but these solid-shot weapons were under double-bolt security.
He moved to the second locker and "Mind-Picked" it.
The interior was lined with lead-shielding. Inside sat rows of heavy, elongated shells. They looked like oversized shotgun slugs, but the base of each round featured a miniature rocket-motor, and the tips were painted a warning-strip of crimson.
Bolts.
Kian picked one up, his hand trembling slightly. These were 30mm Mass-Reactive Rocket-Propelled Shells.
[Item: Voss-Pattern 'Bolt-Throwers']
Ammo Type: 30mm Fragmentation Bolts.
Ammunition Grade: 7 (Legendary Tier).
System Note: These shotguns are specialized 'Bolt-Launchers.' They provide the initial muzzle velocity, after which the shell's internal rocket-motor ignites. Capable of ignoring Carapace armor and liquefying soft targets.
"Throne's mercy... I found the Grade-7 motherload," Kian whispered.
One hit from these would turn a Gristle-Hound into a puddle. He had over 200 of these "Mini-Nukes" and ten launchers. He didn't waste another second. He hauled the ammunition locker bodily toward the tank.
The theater was now a towering inferno. Kian climbed into the pilot's seat of the Chimera, hummed a victory tune, and throttled away from the fire.
He didn't head straight for the lift. He remembered a "Marker" from his previous run. He navigated through the dark boulevards, steering toward a secondary residential district.
There, sitting haphazardly against a marble fountain, was a second Chimera Armored Transport.
He parked his current tank and hopped out to inspect the find. This one wasn't "clean." It was scorched—hit by multiple IEDs and PDF anti-armor shells. The front plate was buckled, and the side was black with soot.
Kian guessed what had happened. A PDF squad had likely turned on their own vehicle during a psychotic break caused by the Warp-rot. It was a "Friendly Fire" wreck.
He walked around to the roof and paused. This wasn't a standard combat variant. There was no 40mm turret. Instead, the roof featured two massive, high-gain vox-arrays and a rotating Directional Auspex Dish.
It was a Command-Pattern Chimera.
A mobile pre-warning station. While it lacked a main gun, its Auspex range was triple that of a standard tank. It could track heat signatures for ten kilometers and coordinate vox-signals across the entire sector. It was the "AWACS" of the ground war.
If Kian could haul this back to the brewery, he could establish a permanent bridge of communication across the entire Hive.
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