[center][img]https://i.redd.it/jsm1l1anwht01.png[/img]
[h3]Denver Reclamation Force Squad Thaddeus[/h3][/center]
[i]Thuck. Thuck. Thuck.[/i]

The axe finally broke through the barricade, the glare of flashlights immediately following through the opening. They didn't reveal much beyond old bones. 

"Nothing." the voice rang out, the combined task force relaxing. A Frumentarius kicked a skeleton, ancient parts of which turned to dust. The search of Denver's ruin's had been fruitless thus far, and leadership was getting angry. 

Of course, fruitless was a comparative term. Thousands of crates of medicine, preserved foods, munitions, electronics and other valuables had been secured, but that was not what the Governor wanted and that was who could order their deaths with a lazy flick of his fingers. What he described was… well, to some of the men present with more tribal backgrounds it was all but incomprehensible, but the more learned warriors knew they'd know it when they saw it. 

The most veteran of the Frumentarii did a few taps on his Pip-boy before giving the squad a rest, and then an order to continue. There were occasionally ghouls in these basements and sub-basements, but the few that were about were… well, the only way to describe them would be to call them mangled. It was as if something had ate their flesh, but wasn’t sufficiently famished to finish them off. A rather pathetic display was even now before the warriors as a legless torso made an admittedly fervent effort in crawling towards them. The poor thing was put out of its misery with a gladius to the skull, before the men continued. 

They were getting tired both in the moment and of their greater work. It was repetitive to say the least, and yet it yielded no results that would bring them glory or at the very least save their hides. Decanus Cyril suggested the governor be informed that all the buildings were searched and his quarry was not found, but in unison the Frumentarii shot the idea down. Though in any hypothetical punishment by decimation they had a fair chance of survival owing to their favourable view by the Emperor, it was still not absolute guarantee their heads would escape wrath of the Lord. 

No, they had to do this and they had to do it well. It was a harsh life down here, the main thing that they packed being water and munitions, with the abundant appearance of wandering dogs feeding them.

Another basement was entered, and flashlights were turned on. Once again they went through all the rooms they found, marking down any with something valuable in them with a pink chalk X to make it clear to following parties of Scouts they should look within for things further marked within. 

“Hold.” Everyone looked to the Frumentarius who whispered, doing his bidding. He motioned for all to follow him into a room previously cleared that they closed the door to. Flashlights were turned off such that eyes could acclimatize to the dark, and soon peering through the missing doorknob all could see what the man had heard. 

It was a cyberdog which was a sight not particularly rare but not common either in Denver. But it looked odd. The steel was fresh, no scars upon it and it was also so wet its fur gleamed in the gloom. The gait of the beast was odd, a limp that with every step seemed to right itself. Similarly the animal had odd spasms that happened every half second at the start of its journey through the vision of the Legionnaires, but by the end they all but stopped.

Eventually the door was opened, and looking down the soldiers could see that the thing had left a trail of an odd slime behind itself.

Cusses of confusion rang out, and slowly the trail was followed to its origins. They went deeper into a sub-basement, and then a sub-sub-basement, where they found a blast door. It was battered, a great hole preventing the blast door from being effective in its purpose. The slime-trail had continued here, and now it was illuminated by a blue light from the other side. The squad wasted no time in finding out what the hell they stumbled upon, and a combination of pickaxe, mattock, chainsaw and blowtorch swiftly dismantled the rusty barrier.

The Decanus grinned, bright lights of the place lighting up his bandana’d face so well one could see his expression behind the mask. They had found what they came for.