Between the dimly lit alley walls, shadows deepened as evening settled completely into night.
The large quantity of swaying blue holographic light flickered once more, then quickly disappeared entirely. The virtual reconstruction vanished, leaving only darkness and searchlight beams cutting through it.
Nolan, wearing his sealed metal helmet that concealed all expression, and David exchanged a brief glance. The moment held unspoken communication, mutual understanding passing between human and AI.
"I suspected from the beginning that Jessica encountered something significantly worse than ordinary gang trouble." Nolan's low voice transmitted clearly from inside the metal helmet, the vox-grille lending his words a mechanical edge. "A metahuman with flight capability, or perhaps some kind of xenos possessing wings. There must be more than one of them. The danger level far exceeds what a plasma pistol and even a well-trained helper could handle effectively. Otherwise they wouldn't have fled in such obvious panic."
The assessment emerged with cold certainty, based on tactical analysis of the evidence.
Nolan slowly reached down, fingers closing around the finely crafted bolter hanging from his waist. He unclasped it and raised the weapon before him in a smooth, practiced motion.
The crisp metallic sound of a firearm being loaded echoed through the narrow space. Mechanical components cycled with precision engineering.
A mass-reactive round was pushed rapidly into the dark firing chamber by the weapon's internal mechanisms, the bolt slamming home with satisfying finality.
Immediately afterward, Nolan activated his power armor's full systems, servos humming as power flowed through every circuit. He turned and began walking deeper into the alley, toward whatever lay beyond its exit.
Through the communication device, he transmitted orders to David. The servo robots needed to exploit the extremely weak network signal permeating the slums, using whatever bandwidth existed to search for the locations of nearby gang strongholds and drug dealer operations.
Whether continuing to track Jessica's whereabouts or attempting to identify the nature of these metahuman or alien creatures, the local criminals who had been entrenched in these slums for years represented the most well-informed intelligence sources available. They saw everything, knew everything, their survival depending on such awareness.
Approximately five minutes later, after navigating the alley's twisting path, Nolan led the automatic servo robots through to the passage's far end. His power armor moved with steady rhythm, each step deliberate.
The sound of their advance awakened more than a dozen emaciated civilians who had been lying on the damp, filthy ground. These unfortunates had been pursuing spiritual escape through chemical means, their bodies sprawled in attitudes of desperate oblivion.
But none dared make any sound whatsoever. Self-preservation instincts overrode drug-induced stupor.
These people simply covered their mouths desperately with trembling hands, tears streaming down faces twisted with terror. They waited in agonized silence for the blue demon to pass by slowly, praying they wouldn't draw its attention.
Nolan paused at the alley's exit, standing motionless while his enhanced vision through the helmet's eyepiece swept across the surrounding environment in systematic assessment.
As far as he could see, only low buildings with flickering lights dotted the landscape. The structures leaned at unsafe angles, held together more by habit than structural integrity. An almost completely connected mess of electrical wires crisscrossed overhead in patterns that defied logic or safety regulations.
At that moment, the helmet's communication device received navigational guidance transmitted from David's position.
Nolan immediately altered his trajectory, pivoting toward the new heading.
He began walking toward a two-story building located not far away. The structure emitted light obviously brighter than surrounding buildings, electric illumination spilling from multiple windows. The contrast marked it as different, notable, worth investigating.
David's intelligence indicated this was one of several strongholds operated by a local gang organization. The location sat right at the alley's terminus, perfectly positioned for observation. They might find useful clues inside.
Several heavy steps later, Nolan approached the building's entrance. He didn't bother reaching back to draw the C'tan phase sword mounted on his power pack. That weapon would be excessive for this task.
Instead, he simply raised one fist, the limb heavily wrapped in blue metal plating.
Then the energy nozzle positioned behind his elbow flared with brilliant light, adding tremendous kinetic force to the strike.
His blue metal fist slammed into the building's only iron door with devastating impact.
The tremendous noise of the iron door being blasted completely off its hinges mixed with a human scream that cut off almost instantly. Both sounds disappeared into the night, swallowed by the slum's ambient noise.
The next moment, automatic servo robots filed through the destroyed entrance in precise formation. Their mechanical tentacles waved through the air as they spread throughout the interior space, securing angles and identifying threats.
The heavy logging guns mounted above their metal carapaces rotated rapidly on servo mounts, tracking systems locking onto every person inside the building. Targeting solutions calculated in microseconds.
All personnel present found themselves firmly in the weapons' sights, red dots painting their chests and heads.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Nolan, walking with slow, heavy steps that announced his presence with every impact, entered the brightly lit building's interior.
Through his helmet's eyepiece, he immediately identified multiple individuals sitting at a dining table. The men remained completely motionless, their expressions dull with shock. Half-eaten food sat forgotten before them, meals interrupted by sudden violence.
On the opposite wall, an unfortunate individual had been killed by the flying iron door. The heavy barrier had struck him with such force that his body was now embedded in the wall itself, crushed and broken. Blood ran down the surface in slow rivulets.
Then Nolan's deep voice transmitted from within the metal helmet, filling the room with mechanical authority.
"Where is your leader?"
In an instant, every person present turned their attention simultaneously toward a specific individual. Their gazes focused on a middle-aged man with a Mediterranean hairstyle, the distinctive pattern of male pattern baldness marking him clearly. He'd been in the middle of eating, a half-consumed chicken drumstick still gripped in one hand.
The middle-aged man, cold sweat suddenly beading on his forehead and running down his face in visible streams, swallowed the food in his mouth with tremendous difficulty. His throat worked visibly, the motion appearing painful.
He stared fixedly at the motionless black muzzles of the automatic servo robots aimed at his position. Then his gaze tracked to the slightly twisting mechanical tentacles that moved with disturbing organic quality.
Finally, he studied the blue metal giant standing before them, a figure so intimidating that its mere presence created palpable pressure in the air.
The middle-aged man blinked rapidly several times. Then he forced out a smile that looked uglier than crying, his facial muscles contorting into a grotesque parody of friendliness.
He addressed Nolan with desperate placation in his voice.
"Big boss, the safe is located under the mattress on the second floor. The product inventory is hidden in the water tank in the toilet. If you want anything, please help yourself. We will not resist. We will not reveal any information about this visit to anyone."
The words tumbled out in a rush, offering everything before being asked.
"Don't worry. This isn't a gang conflict or enemies coming to settle scores." Nolan's bolter lowered slightly, the barrel tracking away from direct alignment with the man's head. "I simply came to acquire some information from you."
His tone remained neutral, neither threatening nor reassuring.
"Approximately seven or eight hours ago, did you hear gunfire in the alleyway outside this building? Did you observe two women and a man running past, possibly accompanied by others?"
"Ah? Yes! Yes, absolutely!" The Mediterranean man's eyes opened wider, relief flooding his features at the relatively benign question. He swallowed several mouthfuls of saliva, his adam's apple bobbing frantically.
Words poured forth with urgent cooperation.
"We were planning to leave the building to deliver product to customers. But before we opened the door, we heard a burst of fierce gunfire very close by. We thought enemies had come to attack our position. We were genuinely nervous for several minutes, preparing for assault."
He paused briefly for breath, then continued.
"Two white women! One black man! There was also a large group of people with them, men, women, and children all mixed together. They appeared to be fleeing for their lives, running with desperate speed."
Nolan, whose expression remained hidden completely within the metal helmet's interior, frowned slightly. The muscles in his face tightened with thought, though no one could observe the reaction.
He considered the information for a moment, processing implications. Then he continued questioning, directing his words toward the Mediterranean gang leader.
"Did you observe their pursuers? What were they? Human beings or something else? Monsters, perhaps?"
However, at that precise moment, the instant Nolan's final word finished echoing through the room, the atmosphere shifted dramatically.
The expressions of everyone present changed simultaneously, as if some invisible switch had been thrown.
Fear appeared on almost every face, the emotion naked and undisguised. Eyes widened, pupils dilated, breathing quickened audibly.
Even the previously cooperative Mediterranean man squeezed out a twisted, bitter smile on his features. The expression conveyed something beyond simple fear, approaching existential terror.
He addressed Nolan in an almost pleading tone, his voice cracking with desperation.
"Big brother! Please, I'm begging you! Superhero! Don't ever ask me that question again!"
His hands came together in a gesture of supplication, trembling visibly.
"Although we are gang members operating in the slums, dealing in illegal substances and violence, there are some things we cannot say. We don't dare speak of them at all! We cannot afford to offend certain parties! We still want to live, to see tomorrow!"
Hearing this transparent pleading, Nolan drove his power armor forward several slow steps. Servos whined softly as he closed the distance to the dining table.
He raised one massive palm wrapped in metal shell plating.
With surprising gentleness, he placed the armored hand on a young man whose shoulders were shaking slightly with barely suppressed tremors. The youth appeared on the verge of breaking down completely.
"I'm asking you only once." Nolan's voice remained calm, almost conversational through the helmet's vox-grille. "What exactly did you see during the incident? If you know the true origin of those creatures, you can describe them to me in complete detail."
He paused, allowing the silence to build pressure.
"If you fear retaliation afterward for providing this information, I can offer you substantial payment for your cooperation. Enough money to start fresh elsewhere. Or you can accept my arrangements to relocate far from this slum entirely, beginning a new life in a different city under protection."
Nolan, wearing his concealing metal helmet, spoke with deliberate calm to the terrified people before him. His tone suggested reasonable negotiation, options being offered rather than demanded.
However, just as the Mediterranean leader began sweating more profusely, his mouth opening to reply without proper consideration of consequences, something interrupted.
The young man beneath Nolan's gently placed metal palm suddenly released a miserable howl of pure agony. The scream tore from his throat with primal intensity, echoing off walls.
In that moment, the power armor's metal palm crushed the young man's shoulder blade with precisely applied force. Bone shattered under pressure that could bend steel.
The five metal fingers embedded themselves deeply into shoulder flesh, sinking through muscle until they scraped against bone fragments. Blood welled up around the penetrating digits, staining blue ceramite dark.
"Hey, friend." Nolan's deep voice resonated slowly through the metal helmet, the words emerging with terrible patience. Each syllable carried weight. "I hope you can think very clearly before speaking to me. Consider your answer carefully."
The statement hung in the air like a suspended blade.
Perhaps because of unstable voltage in the slum's failing electrical grid, the overhead lights began flickering erratically. They cycled on and off in irregular patterns, creating strobing illumination.
Under the gradually stuttering illumination, the blue metal giant standing before everyone transformed in perception. Nolan's armored form appeared less like advanced technology and more like some ferocious, terrifying blue demon summoned from nightmare.
"I'll talk! I'll tell you everything!" The young man's voice emerged strangled, words forced through a throat tight with pain and terror.
"The Blood Coven!"
He gasped for breath, chest heaving with the effort of speaking through agony.
"Everyone in the slums calls them by another name. The Blood Cult!"