Chapter Content
Kian Voss gripped the spade-handles of the Wrathful Lumberer, letting the Machine Spirit's homicidal euphoria flow through his own nervous system. The weapon was a miracle of industrial hatred. He didn't need to aim for vitals; he just followed the "strobe lights" of enemy muzzle flashes.
Whenever a mercenary gunner sparked in the distance, Kian would rotate the turret, hold the reticle over the position for three seconds, and watch as the 20mm shells pulverized the cover and the man behind it into atoms.
The fire-power was simply too great for the Underhive. It was a level of violence that didn't belong in a gang war. Under the unstoppable weight of Kian's lead, the frontline of Wraiths dissolved, and the elite mercenaries were being raked from their perches.
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