The lower hive have various sections populated upon the surface of the hive city, generally on the outskirts of a base of the grater spire. The gaseous waste from the hive is usually released in said areas, but with proper equipment one could stand outside there and feel the wind against their skin and the heat or cold of the day, depending on what counts for seasons on the homeworld. 

The under hive has no such luxury. 

The structure of an under hive is made of several hab domes welded together with tunnels and shafts over a period of centuries, giving it a honeycomb-like structure within a vast cavern entirely underground. The interior of it is an immense, industrial-scaled cathedral of metal and decay, where machines the size of battleships have been abandoned in ages uncounted, though one would be hard pressed to find any difference between them and the makeshift structures made by desperate hands. Some rumor that some gangs worship those ancient machines that stand the test of time as ravenous gods, to which they sacrifice captives. A dome provides a wide open space, divided into zones of factories, houses, commercial buildings, and other structures. Between each dome, the maze of tunnels and shafts is the scene of bitter gangs wars and bloody raids. Varying tunnels with lifts are located around the greater area of the under hive, granting people with clearance access to and from the under hive, though there is little security on the bottom. Luckily most steer clear of the lifts, as the doors opening are just as likely to be a squad of arbites instead of unsuspecting prey. 

I wore a large blue-black coat, wrinkled and torn with a winged collar framing my strong neck. My shoes were worn and my trousers were a drab brown, and plastered upon my face were prosthetics that gave the area around my left eyebrow a swollen look and a large jagged scar running across my face. I sported a wide brimmed hat to help cloak my features, regardless. Arbites Ortega had accepted my offer to accompany us, much to Emmaline's displeasure, but it took some convincing to the arbites to adopt similar costume and eschew his normal uniform, though he did wear his carapace armor under his jacket, as I did. 

The lift shuddered and clanged concerningly, threatening to send us in an endless free fall down the clattering shaft at a moment's notice. The steel cables twining and singing as our lift ran through them. I merely breathed deep and held faith I hadn't survived eldritch xenos, chaos sorcerers, and a ruptured kidney to die in an elevator in the ass of a hive city. I clutched Emmaline to steady her, reinforcing my support for her idea. 

Initially we had deliberated on making an assault, locating the most likely places were gangs met and with lighting tactics, cordoned off the area and make sure no one got in and out, leading to a lengthy process of interrogation. I was not in favor of this option, but Emmaline spoke up as an opposing voice and I supported it wholeheartedly. Incognito was a far better solution, even if it leads to a greater risk of ourselves. As the lift elevator grinded to a halt and opened up, spewing forth a rancid smell of sweat and decayed metal, I hoped we made the correct choice.