Chapter 93: Beneath the Towers
"I don't like this place. It reminds me of the past—when I used to run packages for the gangs, just another thug living here. My brothers and I, all of us either orphans or victims of abuse, were like a pack of rats soaked in dirty water, crawling through gutters. Our fur slicked with oily grime, reflecting the colorful glow of neon lights."
Before entering the largest slum district in Tarsonis City alongside several search teams from the Tarsonis Police Force, Zander Marx—a Private First Class grenadier with the Heaven's Devils and a Federal Marine born and raised in Tarsonis—spoke these words to his commanding officer, Augustus.
Tarsonis City was the most magnificent and expansive city in the entire Terran Dominion. It stood on the vast plains between the single main continental mountain range of Tarsonis and its largest inland sea. Its hexagonal outer walls were visible even from near-orbit, and beyond the city center stretched massive industrial zones and one satellite city after another across the planet's surface.
Within the Dominion's territory, Tarsonis was a place where the ambitious and favored children of the age gained fame and fortune. Future politicians, interstellar merchants, and scientific prodigies could all carve out a place for themselves on this prosperous world. In stark contrast, the number of people living in its enormous slums exceeded even the population of entire colonies in the Sara system.
Augustus was no stranger to slums. In Styrling, they were areas excluded from urban development plans—ramshackle districts that had sprung up as a result of rapid expansion and severe income disparity. They resembled vast, ugly scars of concrete and makeshift dwellings nestled between gleaming glass towers, like blotches of mercury on a polished mirror.
Styrling on Korhal IV housed the poorest people in all of Korhal, but the slums of Tarsonis existed quite literally beneath the city.
At the city's center stood the Skytower Complex of the Old Families—a shimmering cluster of towers that formed the beating heart of Tarsonis, serving as both the origin and terminus of the continent's transport network. Beyond the central district and stretching toward the outskirts rose a mountainous forest of skyscrapers. Beneath this veneer of prosperity lay the 'gutter'—a dark and sprawling network of alleys hidden under the city.
These skyscrapers stood upon reinforced concrete and steel foundations, and between their bases ran countless twisting pedestrian alleys. Highways soared thousands of meters above.
The alley walls resembled sheer steel cliffs that seemed to extend endlessly upward. Locked iron doors and permanently sealed windows lined both sides. Only the glowing mist from upper-level windows gave any indication that Augustus and the dozens of Tarsonis Police Force officers—armed with electromagnetic pistols and shotguns—were still within a city at all.
The sunlight never reached these lower layers. The towering floors above blocked it entirely, casting the alleys into eternal shadow.
Rainwater that failed to evaporate, abysmal ventilation, and the sewer system beneath made this place as humid as a tropical rainforest. The air reeked of urine and an indescribable stench. Rodents and native giant slugs crept through the shadows. Above, the sound of ventilation fans mingled with the creaking of rusted metal signs.
At the end of each alley lay yet another passage—some narrower, some broader—but all led deeper into this labyrinth beneath the towers, from which there was no true escape.
No one had ever counted how many alleys there were, but what was certain was this: Tarsonis had millions—tens of millions—of dark, damp alleys. Among all the cities of the Dominion, this was one of the most hostile and uninhabitable environments. Here, viruses thrived in the warm, humid darkness. Plagues and death watched silently from the shadows.
Yet in these alleys lived an uncountable mass of the impoverished: thugs cast out from their homes, homeless wanderers, the jobless, desperate gamblers, aimless addicts, and those working the most degrading jobs. They made their homes in the wider alleys, within makeshift lean-tos built against the towering steel walls.
In the slums, no one had balconies. They could only dry their clothes using microwaves, but even freshly dried garments were soon dampened again by the ever-present humidity.
There was a lack of proper lighting here, so the residents relied on cheap, blindingly bright neon lights to illuminate the dark world around them. These neon signs, along with the lights inside people's homes, were powered by exposed electrical cables that residents had illegally installed along the alley walls. In the darkness, flickering sparks could often be seen, accompanied by the faint sizzling of electricity.
"Mr. Augustus, we've got about an hour left before our shift ends. We might have to postpone the search until tomorrow," said a precinct chief from the Tarsonis Police Force, standing beside Augustus. "I'm honestly worried about Mr. Findlay. In the slum's nighttime, crime, chaos, and violence feel like they come from another backward and savage world—not from Tarsonis, a place known for science and progress."
"You have to understand, tracking criminals in the slums is nearly impossible. There's no real governance here. Even the police department only sends patrol crafts through on scheduled sweeps."
"I'll pay extra," Augustus replied flatly.
"This isn't a matter of money," the chief said, adjusting his crooked hat brim and lighting a cigarette with deliberate slowness.
"Double it. Tell your chief to assign better officers—and send a detective from the upper districts," Augustus said, his gaze tracing the colorful graffiti on the wall, bathed in the purple-red glow of a nearby neon sign. One officer told him there was a relatively large residential block just ahead, past the alley.
Augustus knew all too well: the Tarsonis Police Force was a rotting board, riddled with worms and filth. Capable officers weren't exactly rare—but among them, those who remained clean, who refused to take protection fees, bribes, or extort the citizens, were few and far between.
Most officers made enough to live comfortably in this prosperous metropolis. But in this city of false splendor—fueled by greed, vanity, and the endless pursuit of wealth—even law enforcers wanted a bigger piece of the pie.
In the lower districts, short-staffed precincts let idle thugs run unchecked. Meanwhile, the best officers in wealthy areas cared only for the patrons who gave them extra bonuses.
In this kind of system—where things didn't move without kickbacks or favors—most cases involving the middle class or ordinary Federation citizens were dragged out for months, if they weren't simply buried. As for petty crimes like robbery, theft, or assault? They weren't even worth the time of these 'distinguished' officers.
Unless the victim was someone with power and influence, even a rich businessman couldn't expect much help unless he was willing to pay up.
"Lucky for us, we're doing some overtime today, Mr. Augustus," the chief said, taking a deep drag on his cigarette. "One of my detectives just found something—a lead. Someone can confirm that Tychus Findlay—that big guy in the photo—walked into Old Ret's Bar at 19:52 last night… and came running out of it stark naked this afternoon."
"He was completely naked, and with just a few punches and kicks, he took down two massive gang enforcers," the chief added.
...
The residential district where Old Ret's bar was located was actually a maze of countless narrow streets, each stretching for over ten kilometers. On both sides of these streets stood the makeshift homes of the slums' inhabitants, shops peddling salvaged scrap, and vendors selling drugs with strange side effects or outdated technological gadgets.
Amid these humble buildings were occasional strip clubs decorated solely with neon signs and upscale bars openly dealing in nearly every type of contraband, including narcotics.
As soon as Augustus stepped into the district, he was nearly blinded by the dazzling, multicolored neon lights flashing from hundreds of signs.
In the slums of Tarsonis, there was almost no distinction between day and night. Since the establishment of this area, its lights had never been turned off. The overwhelming pollution of blue, purple, and red lighting made Augustus and the others visibly uncomfortable.
Despite the street being only about ten meters wide, there were few pedestrians—mostly unemployed vagrants or gang enforcers and thugs with brightly dyed hair and tattooed arms. The dazzling lights, pungent odors, and heavy stench of alcohol formed Augustus's first impression of this world.
Countless impoverished residents lived here, working dangerous or degrading jobs—cleaning sewers or washing the windows of skyscrapers at lower wages than machines would require—all for meager pay. As for those born to be scoundrels, they engaged in any business they believed could turn a profit, and without exception, every one of those businesses was criminal in nature.
The moment Tarsonis police officers in uniform appeared, the underworld dwellers and criminals scattered like rats. Only a few individuals wearing long sleeves and trousers lingered in the distance, watching them closely. Every neighborhood had a gang that ruled over the slum-dwellers, collecting protection fees at regular intervals and using despicable, cruel methods to punish those who couldn't pay.
Augustus and the police chief walked at the front, followed by heavily armed officers. Most of them carried P220 electromagnetic pistols. Unless the slum's gang leaders wanted to provoke the police into dispatching elite forces to clean out the district, they didn't dare launch an open assault on so many officers.
The ground was perpetually damp. A UNN news-broadcasting robot, about the size of a football, slowly made its way through the street. It locked onto the largest group of people and quickly rolled up to Augustus. Flashing atop its dome was a headline:
[Angus Mengsk! Beware: Terrorism Rekindling on Korhal IV!]
The police chief casually kicked the little bot aside. The one-wheeled robot with two antennas promptly increased its speaker volume and spun in place several times: "You have unlawfully harmed an AI robot protected by law! I will contact the Tarsonis Police Department!"
"Go ahead, kid," the chief replied, giving it another kick that sent it rolling even farther. "And don't forget to bring your mother with you."
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