Warhammer 40K in a box

Chapter 452 First Steps into D-7
Under the old man's complicated gaze, the heavy alloy gate slowly slid open, accompanied by a piercing metallic friction and a sluggish hydraulic screech.

Behind the gate, instead of the expected crowded nest of pipes, there was an unexpectedly vast space.

The abandoned D-7 maintenance bay was revealed to the combat nun squad: under the towering ceiling, sparse emergency lights cast pale beams, illuminating the dust-covered alloy floor, the rusty wreckage of the massive maintenance crane, and the mountains of discarded parts covered with thick gray dust sheets piled up in the corners.

The air was filled with the mixed smells of solidified machine oil, stale iron, and lingering industrial cleaning agents, a stark contrast to the filth and decay of the pipework area below.

The emptiness and deathly silence formed the main theme, with only the low, resonant hum of pipes in the distance and the faint groans of metal expanding and contracting intermittently reaching the ears.

However, amidst this cold industrial wasteland, there are scattered, meager yet tenacious traces of human survival—the temporary "homes" built in desperation by mutant communities forcibly relocated here using salvaged scraps.

Beside the scattered, massive metal frames, in the shadow of abandoned cranes, and at the edge of piles of dustproof cloth, pieces of crooked waterproof canvas or recycled, heavy insulation material are barely propped up, forming rudimentary shacks.

The supports consisted of rusty metal pipes picked up at random, the remains of overturned tool racks, and even waterproof reels of some large, discarded cables.

Scattered on the ground were containers made from oil drums or broken engine hoods, some hastily cobbled-together bedding made from scraps, and several cheap stoves emitting choking smoke—clearly their desperate attempts to create warmth.

Captain Figesin's silver-white power boots stepped onto the cold metal ground, the crisp tapping sound particularly abrupt and jarring in this empty space, which was beginning to be invaded by primitive survival.

Her squad of combat nuns followed closely behind in tight formation, their explosive guns steadily scanning the desolate yet chaotically vibrant area.

The two nuns' oracles hummed, their red light sweeping across the massive, rusted frame of the maintenance platform, the exposed, thick bundles of cables, and the shack roofs, soaked in oil and reflecting a faint gleam under the emergency lights.

The searchlight on the shoulder armor pierced the shadows in the corner, illuminating the solidified weld marks on the huge mechanical cross-section half-hidden under the dust cloth, and also illuminating a pair of terrified eyes that suddenly shrank back from behind a crack in a shack.

The air seemed colder and drier than outside, yet it was also faintly mixed with the smell of cheap fuel from burning garbage and the stench of sweat from both humans and animals.

Those mutant residents who might have huddled in the shadows of a corner were now scattered everywhere, like moss forcibly peeled from a rotten branch.

They either huddled among scattered discarded toolboxes, beside repair carts pushed into corners, or cowered back to the doorways of their dilapidated, greasy shacks, all looking nervously and anxiously at this gleaming silver intruder, radiating cold hostility and absolute order.

A child wrapped in rags, huddled in the corner of a tin shack, was so frightened by the sudden oppressive atmosphere that he began to sob. His cries were amplified in the empty and echoing cabin, making them sound even more desolate and jarring.

The sound startled those around them, eliciting a suppressed murmur and panicked scrambling. Interspersed among these sounds was the distant shack area where someone had accidentally kicked a discarded metal part, the clattering sound of it rolling across the metal floor like an alarm bell striking everyone's hearts.

Fear spread like an icy fog, quickly seeping into every crevice of the makeshift shack, firmly gripping the hearts of all the mutated beings imprisoned there.

This brand-new prison, designated "D-7" by the Empire, was shrouded in despair and vigilance. Figeshin's icy voice boomed through the power armor's loudspeaker: "In the name of the Emperor and the authority of the Governor of Rostov! The eradication of alien contamination is not yet complete, and the reconstruction of order has only just begun! Mutants in this area, line up immediately! Undergo basic mutation checks and faith screening!"
This is the first step in Judge Chen Xi's policy—your transgression is a heavy burden bestowed upon you by the Emperor, which must be redeemed with faith and obedience! Only the fire of purification can cleanse this defilement!

Her voice struck the hearts of every mutant resident like the cold, hard law of the law.

Words like “redemption,” “serving,” and “purification” pierced through the thin veil of hope that the old man with the limp and others had heard from lower-level officials about “medicine,” “jobs,” and “safety”, like a red-hot branding iron.

There was a commotion in the crowd.

A young man with ashen skin, bone spurs on his back, and two extra, withered arms, was overcome by a long-accumulated, deep-rooted fear that overwhelmed his reason when he saw the nuns' cold, merciless eyes and the ready-to-fire bullets.

Fear reminded him of the purifying fire he had witnessed weeks earlier: deafening explosions, blinding flashes of chainswords, and flames that devoured everything…

He shoved the person next to him away and let out a roar that was hard to understand, instinctively wanting to turn around and rush into the deeper, darker labyrinth of pipes!
"Potential threat! Mark it!" Figsin's voice was completely calm.

The two nuns behind her moved with lightning speed. The multi-limbed mutant had only taken a few steps when a beam of intense light struck him precisely. Immediately afterward, a strong-looking nun shot out like an arrow, her power armor's servo system humming loudly, and the hydraulic joints instantly unleashing a powerful thrust!
The armored iron grip clamped down on the mutant's twisting and struggling body with absolute force, and the enhanced limb strength of the power armor pressed it firmly onto the cold metal ground, producing a heavy thud.

At the same time, the muzzle of another nun's explosive gun was pressed against his extra, twitching, mutated limbs, the preheating hum of the gun barrel sounding like a death sentence.

"An out-of-control anomaly! Suspected chaotic contamination!" Figsin's voice delivered a cold judgment. His gaze didn't linger on the multi-limbed man for a second, but swept across the entire settlement, which was now speechless with horror, like a searchlight: "According to the Novaya Zemlya temporary safety regulations: immediate isolation, pending determination of the depth of contamination!"

Her commands were clear and unambiguous.

Two fully armed guards, each wielding a shotgun, immediately stepped forward and roughly dragged the limp, still whimpering, multi-limbed man to his feet, quickly pulling him towards a temporary quarantine area outside the gate, enclosed by a heavy iron fence.

Several terrified figures were already huddled in that area.

Figsin's gaze slowly swept over the deathly silent crowd. The old lame man's cloudy eyes were filled with anger and helplessness, while the mothers holding their children buried their heads deep in their children's necks, their bodies trembling uncontrollably.

Figsin's thumb unconsciously rubbed the engravings on the handguard of the explosive rifle named "Fiona" on his back.

The cold, hard metallic touch was the only warmth and comfort she had left, but it also reminded her of the heavy burden on her shoulders and the ever-present threat lurking in the shadows.

The will of the Empire has descended upon this dark land. Whether accepted or not, the “new life” of District D-7 has begun—accompanied by absolute control, an icy sense of distance, and a deep wariness of anything “inhuman.”

(End of this chapter)