Moloch Krasus and the two Legionnaires hauled the incensed Salazaar out of Rofoscue’s mansion.

He was beside himself fighting them as best he could to get back to her body, all the while howling her name over and over again, wild with rage and grief.

Moloch administered a dose to him from his injectrix, and the constable went limp in their arms.

Krasus sighed and then crossed his arms. He stood there, thinking for a moment, while tapping his foot on the stoop.

All along the wide veranda and amongst the grounds, the bodies of constables and caretakers littered the vicinity, as everyone wearing a collar was struck down by the proximity detonation command.

Krasus seemed to settle on a course of action and pointed to the four legionnaires, who had noticed the deaths of everyone inside the grounds of the mansion and had hurried over from the gondola to investigate.

“You four come with me on the double, and bring the hoverlift off the back of the gondola. We aren’t going to leave this place empty handed.”

Moloch walked with them carrying Salazaar, up the gondola stairs. He had nothing to say and felt sick to his stomach. At that moment he appreciated Krasus’ pragmatism and ability to work through one of the most horrible moments he had witnessed.

Potter looked up from where he was seated on the Gondola as they walked aboard. He had a small toolkit open and was mending a long crack that ran along the shaft of the legion standard with a pen welder.

“Is everything alright? I figured something happened when the heads of the constable’s standing guard exploded.”

“Rofoscue popped everyones napes. Watch Salazaar for us will you?” Moloch asked as he laid the constable gingerly down on the seat next to Potter.

“Even Myleia?” Potter asked, with a tone of sorrow in his voice.

“Even her.” Moloch rasped out, barely able to say the words.

“Poor Soul. I’ll watch him.” Potter adjusted the limp Constable gently to a more comfortable position and sighed to himself as he went back to the repairs on the legion standard.

Moloch walked back inside the mansion. He began to look around the room for some cloth that he could use as a makeshift shroud for Myleia’s body. There were two long curtains made of an expensive shimmering golden fabric. He went up and wrenched one of them down. The curtain rod clanged noisily on the stone floor. Then he walked into the vault, while Krasus and the legionnaires were piling all of Rofoscue’s accumulated wealth on the hoverlift. He picked her up and carried her to the curtain, using the tiebacks to secure the cloth.

He heard the familiar rapid pattering of booted feet running up behind him.

“I will avenge you supervisor!” Ramsfold bleated in a high warbling shout.

Moloch turned and swung out hard with his fist, catching the servant right in the pelvis with a hard strike.

His eyes grew wide as he saw that Ramsfold was wielding a huge heat axe. It was a heavy ancient weapon that must have been taken from some kind of ornamental display elsewhere in the mansion. He did not have the slightest idea or the strength to properly wield it.

Once Ramsfold staggered, Moloch backhanded him hard, and he slipped on the many blood puddles that had spread across the polished stone floor and fell hard on his back. The axe went sliding far away and out of reach. Moloch loomed above him with his arms crossed. This act of treacherous revenge by Rofoscues' servant was the final straw for him.

“Why?” Moloch asked. “Why attack me to get revenge for such a selfish coward?”

Ramsfold stared at him with wild eyes that shone with a feverish insanity.

“I have served him all my life. He always treated me well, not like them at all. I ate better, I toiled less. He even let me receive pleasures from his flock once or twice.”

Moloch couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“You know there is no difference in his mind, between you and them.”

“Lies! I am their superior! He favored me above the rest!”

“A dog that eats scraps from the masters table is still a dog. He merely deceived you into thinking you were better because you were the best at serving him, in all things.”

“Oh yeah!?” Ramfold shouted, now angry at Moloch’s words.

“Where is my collar? I am still alive, and they are dead.” He waved his skinny wrinkly arm callously around the room at the carnage.

“ I am better than them! Proof he treasured my service above all else! They deserved to die. They didn’t love him as I did. They didn’t serve him as I did. They used him. They are worse than animals!” Then he pointed at Moloch. “Where is your rebuttal to that?” He said, his lips twisting up into a smile.

Pfunkt, Pfunkt, Pfunkt! Moloch’s emitter spit out three rapid shots.

Ramsfold clutched at his wounds, and gurgled out an incomprehensible response.

“Well now you’re dead just like them, and you can burn in the same incinerator as them, and become a forgotten pile of fertilizer just like them.” He said as the three huge holes in Ramsfold began to melt into ash. “Now go and serve your master on the other side.”

Krasus and the other Legionnaires watched from the doorway of the vault.

“I’m glad you did it brother, because I was about to. Attacking a Centurion of the Legion is a capital crime.”

“Justice was served.” Moloch said grimly.

Ramsfold fell back into a bloody puddle beside the headless body of Rofoscue and laid still.

After Moloch finished wrapping up Myleia’s body, Krasus and the Legionnaires piled the rest of the loot onto the hoverlift and they took both back to the Gondola.

“Let's get out of here.” Krasus said.

“I couldn’t agree more.” Moloch replied wearily.

When they arrived at the Central lift, the sight of the bloody and ragged Centurions and Legionnaires was more than enough to keep any of the Drydellian officials away from them. They watched with suspicious gazes from their lifthouse, but they didn’t dare approach them.

That was until Moloch pointed at a Drydellian supervisor who was on duty at the central lift, standing in a booth. He beckoned for him to approach them.

The official hesitantly approached. “How may I serve a member of the Legion?” The official said, swallowing slowly and shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“Before Supervisor Rofoscue took his own life, he declared to all of us present that Constable Salazaar’s employment contract was dissolved. You shall reflect it in your records, before we take our leave of this wretched level.”

The Supervisor, took up his intelor pad, and swiped through a few prompts.

“I can’t verify that claim, I would have had to have heard it from Supervisor Rofoscue himself. Otherwise I’d just be taking your word for it. We Drydellians, we don’t traffic in hearsay. There is no profit in it.”

“You calling us liars boy?” Moloch growled. He brought his hand to rest on the butt of his emitter pistol as he took a step forward. Covered in blood and grime and wearing his battered armor, the sight of him caused the Supervisor to cringe away from him in fear.

Even the tourists in the queue began to take notice and started to point and whisper amongst themselves. Other supervisors hurried out and began to whisper platitudes to calm the crowd, while shooting furtive glances their way.

Krasus walked around behind the Supervisor to help complete the ominous feeling of being surrounded.

The Drydellian swallowed again, and then lifted his intelor pad to make a few hasty inputs. “Er- I was wrong Centurion, your word is enough for me. Constable Salazaar was it?” He said, thoroughly cowed. He tried to take a submissive step backwards but he only bumped into Krasus, who grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him.

“Watch where you’re going, you could get hurt.” He cautioned harshly.

“Show me your intelor pad.” Moloch said.

The Supervisor hesitantly held out the intelor pad for inspection, his hands slightly trembling. Moloch intently read the screen.

“Where is the gene signature of the on the discharge verification?” He asked, pointing to the empty field on the bottom of the form.

“Oh, I must have forgotten that part.” The Supervisor admitted, rubbing the back of his head with his other hand.

“Must have been, because I know you weren’t trying to deceive us.” Krasus said with a hard edge in his voice.

“Definitely not, Centurion, but I really should ask my Superiors for permission first.” The Supervisor replied slowly, beads of sweat forming on his brow.

“Son, we just got back from a hybrid hive, Supervisor Rofoscue freed constable Salazaar from his employment for his valiant service. He lost a foot and a hand to those beasts. Is he high enough on the chain of command for you?”

The Supervisor looked slowly into each of their faces. Then he let out an long sigh. "Yes, Centurion he is."

Then the young Drydellian winced as he put his thumb on the pad and the device took a drop of his blood.

He presented the pad, and turned the screen around, showing Salazaar's picture with phrase “debt discharged, contract fulfilled.” in huge green letters at the title of his employee profile page.

“Thank you for your compliance.” Moloch said evenly as he turned and raised his hand to the Drydellian with a small wave. “Now buzz off.”

The Supervisor picked up the hem of his robe and ran off, his intelor pad swinging back and forth on its straps and his sandals slapping the soles of his feet as he hastily made his way back to the safety of his booth and long queues.

The rest of the Drydellians and their employees stayed away from them while they waited for the lift. They had draped the other curtain over the loot-covered hoverlift and put the unconscious Salazaar and Myleia’s body over that.

A few more minutes later, the level lift arrived and the doors opened. The Centurions and the four remaining legionnaires and Potter got inside and rode it all the way up to the Legion Ziggurat on Surface City.