Godclads: The Broken Cage: A Progression Fantasy Epic (Godclads Book 1) by OstensibleMammal

Author:OstensibleMammal [OstensibleMammal]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Timeless Wind Publishing
Published: 2024-01-23T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 29

LIKE DOGS ON LEASHES

The Circuits are an easy way to get out of the Warrens. Of course, by easy, I mean either you get recruited and offered a Guilder contract or you end up dead. Either way, consang, you’ll be well on your way towards either gettin’ a Soul grafted to you or being burned inside a Soul.

Same difference, really.

Circuits come with plenty of variety. Largest pool of recruits comes from the drone-jocks since they don’t tend to fucking die the first time they make a mistake. Getting a second chance at the cost of burning a few thousand imps and all that, but don’t get it twisted, adamantine-hard street squires have and will always be a commodity.

What can I say? Everyone loves a good pit brawl.

-QUAIL TAVERS, SCHOOL OF THE WARRENS

If there was one thing Avo hated about these Syndicate types, it was their pointless theatrics. Slaughterman, Rantula, Mirrorhead—every last one of them had a stupid concept they just wouldn’t let go of. It was like tumbling into a world where everyone liked buying new clothes for their guns and giving themselves a new name by slamming two random nouns together.

The path that Rantula led him down was covered in layers of tarp. Sparks of light and the sounds of distant gunfire teased of the city beyond this new cage.

Rantula continued. “See the boss decided to get a new pet.” She folded her arms over her chest. They were twice as thick as his, each muscle both natural and not. Scaarthians were modded from times of yore. First by their environment, then by their gods, and now, by themselves. With Rantula, it seemed like she was the ongoing result of a series of repeatedly botched jobs.

The ground staggered beneath her weight, each step thumping up eruptions of dust. The patterns of the particulates were strange. Looking up, Avo understood why. Bullet holes and poorly threaded wires ran through the ceiling. Flashes of movement cut across the ceiling, bobbing with the flow of thoughtstuff. People were upstairs, too, heading in the same direction as he was.

Eight burning optics flashed in his periphery. Rantula was glaring right at him. “Can’t say I see what’s so special about you. You’s just like any other ghoul I know.”

“Can do the alphabet backward,” Avo said.

She spat again. Didn’t know she hated literacy that much.

The hallways they walked through were cramped and dim. Avo heard the distinct chitters of aratnids scampering through the vents. The walls were lined with half-molted battle foam—instantly deployable cover. Probably leftovers from a gunfight some time back. The walls themselves were covered with an insulating tarp, patches of which swelled with the flowing winds.

The fact that the currents could course this deep into the structure meant a few things. The most likely was that someone—or more likely a fleet of drones—had put a lot of holes through the block at some point. Probably was a holding point during the last war, now reinfested with gangers and other vermin.

As they

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