Soon enough the path widens, and the voices are everywhere but behind: in the shadows off the beaten track, the denizens of the underhive watch your every move. Perhaps cowed by power armour and 'civilised' weaponry... or more likely whoever was in charge here saw no reason to strike, preferring to try and put the Acolytes to use furthering their own goals. 

Ramshackle huts cluster around a sloped surface that can only be the underside of one of the upper layers, and the under-hive's inhabitants are for the first time clearly in view, all of them with gang leathers on and openly carrying weapons of some description, though nothing to even compare to the guardsman's equipment. If they wanted to, the Acolytes could probably wipe the gang out--but why do that?

Out of one of the huts steps a man that looms over the rest. Both from his size and his sidearm, it's unlikely he started life down in the hive--but with the way the rest of the gang members defer and step out of the way, it's clear he's the boss. The tan man shows no signs of fear as he confronts the group, blocking further progress and flanked by two firearm-toting louts.

"What brings the Ecclesiarchy down here, eh?"