Nyth stands in the rafter above, which would once have been the energy hall but is now the general assembly area of an abandoned half-destroyed five-floor hab-block that the Crispers have turned into their hideout, watching as the gang finishes their latest meal; the four members he sent running back to them. Since they came back empty-handed with some groxshit story about a killer ghost, the gang's leader, Blacktusk Vex, made an example of them by serving them for dinner. It took them a long time to die as the gang cooked them alive just long enough to tenderize them and then ate them alive, starting at their feet.
Nyth watched it as impassive as a statue while he ate a ratdog burger he stole from the bazaar while trailing the cattle. Aza decided to show him another of his abilities during this as it resequenced the burger from ratdog meat on moldy bread to a hot grox burger on fresh bread. It was the best thing Nyth had ever tasted. He did notice that he was able to eat it while watching the cannibals eat their friends without any trouble. Before that, he noticed that he felt nothing about killing over two dozen people in the space of a few minutes. When he asked Aza about this, the Bond happily explained.
"Warrior Princess are trained from the day they take their first steps to their thirtieth naming days in the art of war and death-dealing. During this time, they are taught how to turn their emotions off while killing and back on afterward so that they can perform other noble duties. They were killers without peers but also husbands, doctors, and artists, and they held many other non-violent walks of life and professions within Satimor society. It was how they found a balance between being weapons and men. I have given you the ability to turn it on and off as well, but you will have to find what brings you peace. Right now, you are just still."
"Interesting," echoes Nyth as he bites into a resequenced apple that tastes like it was just picked instead of the half-rotted thing it was when he stole it, "Maybe my piece can be being a fat ass. By the Throne, I can't believe that there are places where people eat like this anytime they want. Rash would have loved this."
Thinking of his friend darkens his mood once again, but he remains still. He is waiting. Blacktusk had sent some of the gang out to check the tunnel where the gang members turned dinner main courses and claimed they were attacked. Nyth wants all these bastards, so he waits.
"It is rather strange that a culture advanced enough to create an interstellar empire allows its people to live like this," echoes Aza in answer to his thoughts, "And the primitive level the technology used is completely out of line as well. The issues of poverty, hunger, and disease were nearly completely wiped out before the Satimor left their first world and went into the stars around seven thousand years after they invented their first computer. Slip Space travel was invented three thousand years after that, allowing them to build the Empyre. Fifteen thousand years later, they were capable of holding their own against species like the Necrons, C'tan, and Aeldari and achieving the Great Exodus from this galaxy when the Enslaver Plague began. By comparison, humanity is using and reusing technology that would barely be considered a Satimorian child's toy."
"You would have to take that up with the cogheads, my friend," echoes Nyth. At this point, your worst guess would be worlds away from my best. It is just the way things have always been for me. Down here, we are lucky if we get tech that isn't tenth-hand, at the least."
"Well, I do know that the so-called Adeptus Mechanicus is a big part of the issue," echoes Aza, "I have spent most of the time since my awakening hacking my way through every system connected to the Noosphere. Which, if I am honest, took about thirty minutes; the rest of the time has been spent going over the data. The Adeptus Mechanicus hordes knowledge like treasure as a part of their machine-worshiping religion. Never advancing, only maintaining and not very well. Religion overall seems to be the primary reason behind the lack of species progression. The Ecclesiarchy seems to consider any thought progression that doesn't align with their religious beliefs heresy of one kind or another. If they ever catch you with me, it won't be pretty. I am not sure I have ever heard of a more xenophobic race."
Nyth almost laughs out loud at that but just echoes a chuckle instead, "Yeah, the frakking robe gang loves to preach and judge with their full bellies while the rest of us starve. Frak them and the bitches that blighted the universe by opening their legs."
"Hm, yes," echoes Aza, amused. Would you like to share how you really feel, master?"
Nyth smirks at his bravado, though he is not sure it is just bravado anymore. A data display appears over his vision as Aza completes a scan, giving the total number of targets and threat levels. Blacktusk is, of course, the highest. He is a hulking brute who looks like he has more crude augmentics than flesh at this point. Both his arms have been replaced with bionics that end in two giant chain fists and double barrel flamers connected to three promethium tanks on his back. Even with all this, Asa still ranks him as only three on a threat scale of one to ten, after watching him stand on stuttering bionic legs that drops to a two. In total, there are one thousand five hundred and three Crispers gathered. A few minutes later, that number increased by twenty as the party Blacktusk sent returns with news of the slaughter they found.
The sadistic grin returns as Nyth turns on the killer once again and leaps down into his new slaughterhouse.