The dark rock floor of Traverse Seven blew up in a geyser of crushed foam-stone, sulfur steam, and black fiery gravel.
Through the burst crust, three massive, multi-segmented monstrosities burst into the freezing trench air. Each Ash-Centipede was over four meters in length, armored in overlapping plates of dark slate-gray hard shell that gleamed like polished black glass. Dozens of scythe-like yellow walking legs tore at the trench walls, churning the mud into a frothing slurry. From their flattened cephalic shields, curved poisonous maxillipeds bent and snapped with high-pressure force, dripping trails of skin-burning green acid that sizzled wildly against the wet rock.
Their compound eye clusters burned with dull crimson malice. They locked instantly onto Arthur Vance standing in the center of the bottleneck.
On the ledge above, Captain Tanya Richter’s cheek pressed against the walnut stock of her tiny rifle. But before her finger could take up the slack on the heavy match-grade trigger, the tactical pocket watch on Arthur’s monocle began its countdown.
Second 00.0.
The lead centipede reared its forward two meters into the air. Its jaws spreading was wide enough to shear a man’s torso in half. It coiled to strike downward, using the driving force of its two-ton armored bulk.
