>>5957950>Using rules from *this section* and *this other section*, is there a loophole that allows me to legally study psychic powers on my own accord with the aid of some Imperial library of some kind, for free?[EXTREME NO]
>>5957955>"Can the Drill Abbot hook me up to some of that good shit?"[WEAK NO]
>>5958014>Should I try to learn more about my condition as a psyker?[EXTREME NO]
>>5958023>Should I try to get my apprenticeship modified so I can work under Figalina instead of hauling literal shit all day?[WEAK NO]
>>5958024> While having this handbook on hand is nice. would it be a wise investment of our time to actually study the Lex Imperialis in our spare time?[WEAK NO]
>>5958037>should i start going to the gym and start getting jacked?[UNCERTAIN]
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Another grueling shift of hauling human waste ended. Back on the bus, the usual chatter of exhausted Schola students was slowly replaced by an unsettling silence. One by one, heads lolled back, eyes drooping shut. A familiar unease prickled at your skin. This wasn't fatigue. You'd seen this act before, back in the hive - drugging a ride was a slum hustle classic.
You held your breath. Then you yanked a nose hair. No pain.
Fuck.
Your larger body mass and the years spent breathing the toxic, coked up hive air probably gave you some resistance. But how long would it last?
The bus suddenly lurched sideways, pushing you against the window next to you, diving into a gaping maw in the street. The familiar glow of Vassioport vanished, replaced by the oppressive darkness of its undercity. Through the polished plastiglass, you glimpsed a blur of colossal tubes, hidden factories, whorehouses, and skeletal remains of forgotten structures, all feeding the bloated casinos and lavish lifestyles above. It was a world much like the underhive – your natural habitat.
You scanned the bus's interior. Gyrano Forgeworld frame, mass-produced all across this sector, the telltale sprues in the corners of the windows - a couple solid kicks in the lower right corner should pop it right out. Its how your mom nabbed these things to pay for food.
You cast a wary glance towards the front of the bus. The sharply dressed chauffeur was in a separate compartment up ahead, closed off by a plastiglass door.
> Kick out one of the windows, jump right out, flee.> Carefully and discreetly try search the kids' backpacks for any sort of communication device to try to call authorities.> Forcefully lean against the window corner a few times to slightly open it for air, stay on the bus, pretend to sleep.> Write in 