One by one, the gangers facing UG took stock of the situation. In front of them, a howling mass of muscle and blood who had, in a matter of seconds, killed their leader and two others, as well as seriously injuring three more of their brothers. Behind them, an open door and freedom. They chose the latter.
UG was gripped by a towering rage. These people had tried to hurt his friends! Now they tried to run, to escape? No, they must be punished! Bad boys need to get hit, or they never learn! He leapt after them, taking out the stragglers, the slower ones first.
But they’re running away!
The voice floated up from somewhere. It was quiet, but insistent.
They don’t want to hurt your friends any more. You can stop.
Then, another thundered through his head.
NO! THEY’VE BEEN BAD! VERY BAD!
The second voice was much louder, and so UG listened to it, rushing out into the street after those who had dared attack his home.
[IC]Streets of Rage: Baptism of Fire
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Serious Paul
- Devil
- Posts: 6644
- Joined: Mon Mar 18, 2002 12:38 pm
Chopper managed to leap out of the saddle of his bike with out falling flat on his face-he was sure it was the adrenaline that pushed him, the anger surging through every vein that propelled him forward. He was too damn big for it to be anything else.
He swung the chainsaw in an upward motion, using both his arms, and his powerful triceps, and back to get his whole body behind the swing. His fingers covered the throttle, depressing it so hard his knuckles had turned white, as the blood had drained from them. The angry buzz of the saw blade was everything. The Ork smiled as Chopper came at him. Swinging his hammer violently the Ork sought to stop his chainsaw cold-maybe he thought he'd knock the chain loose? Ha!
Chopper growled as the metal clashed, sparks flying everywhere. For a second the Ork was overpowering him, pushing him backwards-Jesus he's strong! Then the blade slipped and drug itself forward, catching on his arm. Suddenly blood and chunks of skina nd bone were being spit all over, and the Ork was screaming. Merciful Lord was he screaming!
Chopper felt the saw's serrated teeth catch on the jacket and begin to dig intot he orks side. Suddenly the Ork slipped his jacket, twisting his badly mauled arm further into the blade and dropping his hammer. Ducking under the saw slightly he backed up sseveral steps, now clutching his bleeding arm, his smile gone....
He swung the chainsaw in an upward motion, using both his arms, and his powerful triceps, and back to get his whole body behind the swing. His fingers covered the throttle, depressing it so hard his knuckles had turned white, as the blood had drained from them. The angry buzz of the saw blade was everything. The Ork smiled as Chopper came at him. Swinging his hammer violently the Ork sought to stop his chainsaw cold-maybe he thought he'd knock the chain loose? Ha!
Chopper growled as the metal clashed, sparks flying everywhere. For a second the Ork was overpowering him, pushing him backwards-Jesus he's strong! Then the blade slipped and drug itself forward, catching on his arm. Suddenly blood and chunks of skina nd bone were being spit all over, and the Ork was screaming. Merciful Lord was he screaming!
Chopper felt the saw's serrated teeth catch on the jacket and begin to dig intot he orks side. Suddenly the Ork slipped his jacket, twisting his badly mauled arm further into the blade and dropping his hammer. Ducking under the saw slightly he backed up sseveral steps, now clutching his bleeding arm, his smile gone....
They made an all-out assault, sparing no edge for defense, their thoughts bent on destroying this beast who had killed nearly all their men on this side of the building, their brothers and sisters, their friends. Some of their number were breaking, running; these didn't spare a thought for it.
The behemoth with the plascrete-filled pipe swung first. An ork like Deke, he was solid, muscular, leathered-up and experienced. He swung solidly at his opponent, but the beast was like nothing he'd ever faced. It blocked his blow with the handle of its crimson axe, swinging the weapon wide and opening the attacker's guard. Deke ducked to one knee and drove his axe deep into his opponent's hip. The ork screamed, his agony in tune with the distant whine of the chainsaw gutting one of his friends.
Bellowing in anger, the second one leaped into the air, his mace high, driving downward with all his force and weight, an arc intersecting with Deke's kneeling form. But the beast just rolled over his shoulder and stood in one smooth motion, his axe intercepting the arc of his enemy's passage. Breath exploded from his lungs, and the mace fell from fingers no longer strong enough to hold it; he flew backward, propelled by the horrible might of Deke's stolen muscles.
For a moment, all was still; then the last invader stood unevenly. His face was empty of expression; he was resigned to his fate. With un-nameable bravery, he faced down the foe who had killed his family and had nearly gutted him. The monster turned, feral, caked with blood and ash, a portrait of apocalypse. The last of the Stags gritted his teeth and prepared to defend himself.
The behemoth with the plascrete-filled pipe swung first. An ork like Deke, he was solid, muscular, leathered-up and experienced. He swung solidly at his opponent, but the beast was like nothing he'd ever faced. It blocked his blow with the handle of its crimson axe, swinging the weapon wide and opening the attacker's guard. Deke ducked to one knee and drove his axe deep into his opponent's hip. The ork screamed, his agony in tune with the distant whine of the chainsaw gutting one of his friends.
Bellowing in anger, the second one leaped into the air, his mace high, driving downward with all his force and weight, an arc intersecting with Deke's kneeling form. But the beast just rolled over his shoulder and stood in one smooth motion, his axe intercepting the arc of his enemy's passage. Breath exploded from his lungs, and the mace fell from fingers no longer strong enough to hold it; he flew backward, propelled by the horrible might of Deke's stolen muscles.
For a moment, all was still; then the last invader stood unevenly. His face was empty of expression; he was resigned to his fate. With un-nameable bravery, he faced down the foe who had killed his family and had nearly gutted him. The monster turned, feral, caked with blood and ash, a portrait of apocalypse. The last of the Stags gritted his teeth and prepared to defend himself.
<hr>I don't do jack but fighting, lighting up the streets at night, playing hide-and-seek with a machete, sets of Freddie's spikes. Some say I'm rolling on, nothing but a dog now: I answer that with a "Fuck you," and a bow-wow. <font color="#5c7898">Treach</font>
Deke snarled. All gone! Nothing but this one half-dead thing facing him. It stood, pathetic and bruised, bleeding, dead already. Deke screamed in rage and beat the pipe from its hand with the back of his blade. Unarmed, defenseless, the victim simply stood, teetering, as Deke stepped past him, axe outstretched. The wobbling stopped, and the last invader's head toppled to the ground; the body followed.
Deke swung around, revectored his blade to strike the body, cutting deep into the leathered torso. He chopped through an arm, split a knee, mauled the crotch. His voice came in ragged bellows, his rage venting from his nostrils like smoke. Ribs. Gut. Legs. Blood flew in all directions, splattering and arcing away, leaving a trail of red leading back to Deke.
All over the sidewalk and the road, the omnipresent ash was darkened with arcs and lines and splatters of blood, like a message writ large in gore, punctuated by the small dark forms of the dead, lying still and broken. Deke continued with his coda of devastation, his anger unsated, his mind empty except for the need to destroy.
Deke swung around, revectored his blade to strike the body, cutting deep into the leathered torso. He chopped through an arm, split a knee, mauled the crotch. His voice came in ragged bellows, his rage venting from his nostrils like smoke. Ribs. Gut. Legs. Blood flew in all directions, splattering and arcing away, leaving a trail of red leading back to Deke.
All over the sidewalk and the road, the omnipresent ash was darkened with arcs and lines and splatters of blood, like a message writ large in gore, punctuated by the small dark forms of the dead, lying still and broken. Deke continued with his coda of devastation, his anger unsated, his mind empty except for the need to destroy.
<hr>I don't do jack but fighting, lighting up the streets at night, playing hide-and-seek with a machete, sets of Freddie's spikes. Some say I'm rolling on, nothing but a dog now: I answer that with a "Fuck you," and a bow-wow. <font color="#5c7898">Treach</font>
The big ork was backing away, his weapon fallen to the ground, a look of shock spreading across his face. Amber stared in mixed sympathy and horror. If she could have let him go she would, but he had nowhere to run, and quite possibly, no inclination. Anyway, it was not her job to be making those kinds of decisions. He had attacked them, and her duty was obvious. She raised the pistol, gripping it with both hands. Targeting information from the smartlink ran smoothly up the nerves of her right arm to her eyes, but her left arm was uncooperative, and not as sure as it should be. She took her time bringing her feet into a stable firing stance, and steadying her aim. She had no passion for killing, but she knew how to do what she had to. Then she fired.
Hock came tearing down the stairs, only to be stopped short at the sight of all the carnage. Then, Hock's eyes spotted the fallen body of Sticks.
"Sticks!" Hock ran over to the fallen leader. It didn't take him long to realize that Sticks was about to die.
Hock took in a deep breath. He let his mind wander, back to the training sessions with the Rat shaman. Sticks had been the one who introduced them; the old man was dirty and rancid, but he knew his spells. The old shaman's words floated through Hock's mind: "Ya cain't just make a wound go away, son. Ya gotta take the wounds onto yer body, then let the mojo heal yerself."
Hock reached his hands out, over Stick's body. Carefully, he touched each of the major wounds on Sticks, then traced their pattern in midair. On his own body, blood began to ooze through his clothes, over the exact same spots where Sticks had been shot. Hock began a low chant; as the wounds on Sticks began to close and crust over, the blood began to flow more freely upon his own body. Despite this, Hock kept his chant slow and measured-- in the past, he had a tendency to throw himself too far into his magic, and he could not afford that right now.
Hock then moved his hands over his own body. Keeping his chant as slow and as measured as possible, he began the second part of the spell. The bloodflow staining his grey flats also began to slow, and crust, and finally come to a complete halt.
Hock fell back onto his haunches, exhausted but still ready. Stick's eyes began to flutter, a sign that he had done well. Hock knew he had done the best he could, but he had no idea if it would be enough.
"Sticks!" Hock ran over to the fallen leader. It didn't take him long to realize that Sticks was about to die.
Hock took in a deep breath. He let his mind wander, back to the training sessions with the Rat shaman. Sticks had been the one who introduced them; the old man was dirty and rancid, but he knew his spells. The old shaman's words floated through Hock's mind: "Ya cain't just make a wound go away, son. Ya gotta take the wounds onto yer body, then let the mojo heal yerself."
Hock reached his hands out, over Stick's body. Carefully, he touched each of the major wounds on Sticks, then traced their pattern in midair. On his own body, blood began to ooze through his clothes, over the exact same spots where Sticks had been shot. Hock began a low chant; as the wounds on Sticks began to close and crust over, the blood began to flow more freely upon his own body. Despite this, Hock kept his chant slow and measured-- in the past, he had a tendency to throw himself too far into his magic, and he could not afford that right now.
Hock then moved his hands over his own body. Keeping his chant as slow and as measured as possible, he began the second part of the spell. The bloodflow staining his grey flats also began to slow, and crust, and finally come to a complete halt.
Hock fell back onto his haunches, exhausted but still ready. Stick's eyes began to flutter, a sign that he had done well. Hock knew he had done the best he could, but he had no idea if it would be enough.
Ares remained on the second floor, watching as the biker gang fled from the library. Both guns were levelled on a cluster of them, as they headed off. A cruel grin curled onto his lips as he pulled both triggers and emptied the remaining 8 bullets from each clip at the group. He didn't expect them to hit, but enough bullets in one area...
They needed to learn to never come back. The Angels could not fall. They would not fall. This was their library, their turf. It was times like this that Ares truly felt like a god. He felt immortalized by the number of wounds that were inflicted.
He spent a few moments throwing a tarp over the fire that had broken out, to extinguish it. The smell of burning alchohol filled his senses while his mind re-played the last few moments over and over again. He tried to remember each of his victim's faces.
A noise. People were rushing down to the first floor, it seemed. Over his shoulder, Ares' cold shades watched for a few moments. Then he started pacing around the second floor, near the windows. That dark stare trained on the streets and the horizon, daring the gangers to come back. Waiting, anticipating. Almost unconsciously, his hands went through the motion of pulling two clips from his pockets and slapping them into the empty chambers of both guns.
"Is that all you've got..", Ares said to no one in particular. "Pathetic."
They needed to learn to never come back. The Angels could not fall. They would not fall. This was their library, their turf. It was times like this that Ares truly felt like a god. He felt immortalized by the number of wounds that were inflicted.
He spent a few moments throwing a tarp over the fire that had broken out, to extinguish it. The smell of burning alchohol filled his senses while his mind re-played the last few moments over and over again. He tried to remember each of his victim's faces.
A noise. People were rushing down to the first floor, it seemed. Over his shoulder, Ares' cold shades watched for a few moments. Then he started pacing around the second floor, near the windows. That dark stare trained on the streets and the horizon, daring the gangers to come back. Waiting, anticipating. Almost unconsciously, his hands went through the motion of pulling two clips from his pockets and slapping them into the empty chambers of both guns.
"Is that all you've got..", Ares said to no one in particular. "Pathetic."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
What are you looking at?
What are you looking at?
The narrow line of the door had made a perfect target. The two slipping in hadn't even had time to contemplate their fate. That entrance looking clear, Toyman went back to the skies. The exhilaration of being in the air, of flying, was gone. He had no adrenaline rush from combat or even from winning, not yet. For the most part he was in shock - he felt empty, in some way. Almost devoid of emotion. He went through the motions, because somewhere in the back of his head he knew they were important. Switch to Captain's Chair, get the two moving in a search pattern, order drones to scan on their own for motion. Jump into one, scan visually and with audio sensors for motorcycle whines and for gangers still trying to slip in, jump into the other, do the same thing, switch to Captain's Chair...
They had won. Somehow. It seemed impossible, but they had done it. All who had come to fight them were gone, running or dead. They had defeated those who had... had what? This wasn't about the Angels, really. It was about... 'the boy'... Billy? Where was Billy? Toyman ordered Haze and Mist to land on the roof then shut down, swapped and checked using Black Ice and Baby Thunder for Billy, then jacked out and raced down the stairs. The Angels had a few moments of peace, at the least, they should make them count.
They had won. Somehow. It seemed impossible, but they had done it. All who had come to fight them were gone, running or dead. They had defeated those who had... had what? This wasn't about the Angels, really. It was about... 'the boy'... Billy? Where was Billy? Toyman ordered Haze and Mist to land on the roof then shut down, swapped and checked using Black Ice and Baby Thunder for Billy, then jacked out and raced down the stairs. The Angels had a few moments of peace, at the least, they should make them count.
UG’s blood was still boiling as he exploded through the outer doors in his pursuit of the invaders. Most of those who were still healthy had already made it across the street and to the relative safety of the warehouse and its surroundings. The three that he wounded inside are still making their way across the street.
The ork with the cracked knee hasn’t even made it back down the front steps yet. UG gives him an upward swing on his way by, catching the ork in the back of the head. The blow sends the hapless ganger flying down the stairs to land face-first in the dust at the bottom, unmoving.
They’re running away! Stop this!
UG’s headlong rush slows a bit. The fire is dying.
Yes, see? They’re scared.
UG stops towards the center of the road, and looks around, bewildered. What was he doing here? Wasn’t he just inside, waiting for the bad men to try and hurt his friends? Then it comes back to him. Each death, each killing replays itself through his head with perfect, mind-numbing clarity. While the images float through quickly, he is able to remember every detail; the look of shock on the big leader troll’s face as he flew by, the color of his brains leaking out of his head as he lay on the ground, the crushed bones of the four men he’s just killed. The memories send him reeling.
At that moment, a shotgun blast fires from across the street. One of the gangers, now in the safety of the warehouse, has recovered his courage enough to send some parting gunfire his way. The buckshot hits him full in the chest and arms, but there’s little real damage done. Dents in his makeshift breastplate, chips off of dermal deposits, minor welts and creases on exposed skin.
While there’s no real damage, it is enough to snap UG out of his self-induced nightmare. Now it is his turn to flee, back to the safety of his home. Another couple shotgun blasts fire off, to the same effect as the first. The shot sends little chips of synthwood flying from the doors as UG rushes through.
He skirts his way nervously around the three corpses inside the doorway, and looks around. It’s then that he notices a small group of his friends gathered around a prone figure across the room. Sticks! They hurt sticks!
“Boss!”
UG bounds cross the room, skidding to a stop and hunches down, looming over the group in his concern.
“You OK, boss?”
The ork with the cracked knee hasn’t even made it back down the front steps yet. UG gives him an upward swing on his way by, catching the ork in the back of the head. The blow sends the hapless ganger flying down the stairs to land face-first in the dust at the bottom, unmoving.
They’re running away! Stop this!
UG’s headlong rush slows a bit. The fire is dying.
Yes, see? They’re scared.
UG stops towards the center of the road, and looks around, bewildered. What was he doing here? Wasn’t he just inside, waiting for the bad men to try and hurt his friends? Then it comes back to him. Each death, each killing replays itself through his head with perfect, mind-numbing clarity. While the images float through quickly, he is able to remember every detail; the look of shock on the big leader troll’s face as he flew by, the color of his brains leaking out of his head as he lay on the ground, the crushed bones of the four men he’s just killed. The memories send him reeling.
At that moment, a shotgun blast fires from across the street. One of the gangers, now in the safety of the warehouse, has recovered his courage enough to send some parting gunfire his way. The buckshot hits him full in the chest and arms, but there’s little real damage done. Dents in his makeshift breastplate, chips off of dermal deposits, minor welts and creases on exposed skin.
While there’s no real damage, it is enough to snap UG out of his self-induced nightmare. Now it is his turn to flee, back to the safety of his home. Another couple shotgun blasts fire off, to the same effect as the first. The shot sends little chips of synthwood flying from the doors as UG rushes through.
He skirts his way nervously around the three corpses inside the doorway, and looks around. It’s then that he notices a small group of his friends gathered around a prone figure across the room. Sticks! They hurt sticks!
“Boss!”
UG bounds cross the room, skidding to a stop and hunches down, looming over the group in his concern.
“You OK, boss?”
Sticks gives a groan, squeezes his eyes tighter before opening them, and slowly sits up.
He eyeballs a tired, blood-spattered Hock.
"You look like I feel, chummer."
Sticks does a quick pat-check to see if all his essential body parts are still there. Satisfied, he uses his staff to steady himself as he stands up. With his free hand, Sticks zips up his jacket over the odd scars that his blood-stained, ragged remains of a shirt can't hide anymore. He nods a hello to Ug, then glances down at Hock and proffers a hand.
"On your feet chummer, not done just yet."
He eyeballs a tired, blood-spattered Hock.
"You look like I feel, chummer."
Sticks does a quick pat-check to see if all his essential body parts are still there. Satisfied, he uses his staff to steady himself as he stands up. With his free hand, Sticks zips up his jacket over the odd scars that his blood-stained, ragged remains of a shirt can't hide anymore. He nods a hello to Ug, then glances down at Hock and proffers a hand.
"On your feet chummer, not done just yet."
The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and an electric shock struck through his spine. <i>Magic![/i] He ceased his attacks on the sack of guts at his feet and spun around, seeking the source of the offensive sensation. His eyes widened, his nostrils flared, but he could not quite smell it, see it. He just felt it, like an itch under the skin. It felt like Hock.
Then, on the wall above, was Billy, somehow. He was standing on the very edge of the roof, balancing precariously but appearing unconcerned. The boy stared, eyes unblinking, at Deke; it did not move, or even seem to breathe, just to look, in horror, at the message Deke had scribed in the blood of his enemies.
A look passed between them, the look black and white share, the wordless gaze between yin and yang. Suddenly, Deke snarled, roared, howled. This was his way! Enough with the hiding, defending, enough of being prey in a world of predators. This was a land of anger, of strength, of ashen, molten, steaming nightmares. Time had passed.
Then, on the wall above, was Billy, somehow. He was standing on the very edge of the roof, balancing precariously but appearing unconcerned. The boy stared, eyes unblinking, at Deke; it did not move, or even seem to breathe, just to look, in horror, at the message Deke had scribed in the blood of his enemies.
A look passed between them, the look black and white share, the wordless gaze between yin and yang. Suddenly, Deke snarled, roared, howled. This was his way! Enough with the hiding, defending, enough of being prey in a world of predators. This was a land of anger, of strength, of ashen, molten, steaming nightmares. Time had passed.
<hr>I don't do jack but fighting, lighting up the streets at night, playing hide-and-seek with a machete, sets of Freddie's spikes. Some say I'm rolling on, nothing but a dog now: I answer that with a "Fuck you," and a bow-wow. <font color="#5c7898">Treach</font>
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Serious Paul
- Devil
- Posts: 6644
- Joined: Mon Mar 18, 2002 12:38 pm
Amber stood motionless for a second. It wasn't that she had never seen anyone die-she'd seen countless treet people die from all sorts of less than natural causes. But none had died quite like this. The orks body had been chewed up by Choopers chain saw, and then there was the two big pistol wounds gaping where his eyes had been. For a second all she could do is stare at the black pits-like two burned out craters in his skull. Her reverie was broken when Chopper stopped the saw suddenly.
"Man I'm hungry." Chopper said nonchalantly. He set his saw to the side, and dug some sort of stuffer out of his pockets. For a second Amber thought she'd be sick as she watched him.
Greedily tearing the package open, his hands were sweaty and covered in blood and some sort of oil, probably from the chain saw. He jammed the sugar frosted sweet into his mouth nearly whole, taking nearly half of it in one bite. His jaws moved in slow motion-chewing, and tearing the treat. She could see smal particles of food and sugar on hislips, and falling like some sort of disgusting hail storm.
"We don't have time for this" She said, forcing her eyes away from his mouth. "We need to seal this door, or something."
"Man I'm hungry." Chopper said nonchalantly. He set his saw to the side, and dug some sort of stuffer out of his pockets. For a second Amber thought she'd be sick as she watched him.
Greedily tearing the package open, his hands were sweaty and covered in blood and some sort of oil, probably from the chain saw. He jammed the sugar frosted sweet into his mouth nearly whole, taking nearly half of it in one bite. His jaws moved in slow motion-chewing, and tearing the treat. She could see smal particles of food and sugar on hislips, and falling like some sort of disgusting hail storm.
"We don't have time for this" She said, forcing her eyes away from his mouth. "We need to seal this door, or something."
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Serious Paul
- Devil
- Posts: 6644
- Joined: Mon Mar 18, 2002 12:38 pm
Speed watched as the massive Troll careened out of the Library, screaming like a banshee. What the hell was he doing? Suddenly Hock shoved her aside. She hadn't even seen him coming. As she started to protest Hock laid his hands on Sticks-as if searching for the wounds.
"I've already started to..."shestopped. Oh yeah Hock was a Shaman. The cogs and gears spun. "Do something Hock!"
For a second he looked paniced-then Billy laid his tiny hand on Hock's shoulder. Suddenly Hock ttok a deep breath and nodded. Almost breathlessly he said "I'm...trying..."
Although she wasn't afraid of magic, something was a bit disconcerting about watching Hock's face distort as his "mask" overrode his natural features. He'd explained it to her once-she wasn't sure she got it, but basically the more 'Coon like he got, the heavier the spell. This one must have been a doozy.
Suddenly Sticks gasped, then coughed. Her eyes widened. Hocks hands still had a slight etheral glow to them as he weaved the spell. Wait a minute where was Billy?...
"I've already started to..."shestopped. Oh yeah Hock was a Shaman. The cogs and gears spun. "Do something Hock!"
For a second he looked paniced-then Billy laid his tiny hand on Hock's shoulder. Suddenly Hock ttok a deep breath and nodded. Almost breathlessly he said "I'm...trying..."
Although she wasn't afraid of magic, something was a bit disconcerting about watching Hock's face distort as his "mask" overrode his natural features. He'd explained it to her once-she wasn't sure she got it, but basically the more 'Coon like he got, the heavier the spell. This one must have been a doozy.
Suddenly Sticks gasped, then coughed. Her eyes widened. Hocks hands still had a slight etheral glow to them as he weaved the spell. Wait a minute where was Billy?...
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Serious Paul
- Devil
- Posts: 6644
- Joined: Mon Mar 18, 2002 12:38 pm
Ares stood there burnt and covered in soot watching. They were pulling back-already they were just beyond the range of his guns.
Volcanic ash and years of industrial pollution made it easy to keep track of movement around here. Of course the wind was picking up, and that meant the fine dust would be everywhere. Scanning the horizon he briefly wondered what the hell had just happened Suddenly his eyes stopped on a point in the distance.
"Shit." More were coming.
Volcanic ash and years of industrial pollution made it easy to keep track of movement around here. Of course the wind was picking up, and that meant the fine dust would be everywhere. Scanning the horizon he briefly wondered what the hell had just happened Suddenly his eyes stopped on a point in the distance.
"Shit." More were coming.
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Bishop
- Grand Marshall of the Imperium
- Posts: 3661
- Joined: Mon Mar 18, 2002 7:54 pm
- Location: Sheridan, Michigan.
Tiger strode back into the building, flicking blood off his blades before snicking them back into their respective holsters on his forearms. He nodded, watching the glow around Hock's hands fade as Sticks stood up. Good. Sticks was alright, for the moment.
He coughed, drawing everybody's attention to his blood spattered face and body, his blue eyes so violently blue they were almost glowing.
"I hate to say it, chums, but there's more coming. Lots more."
He coughed, drawing everybody's attention to his blood spattered face and body, his blue eyes so violently blue they were almost glowing.
"I hate to say it, chums, but there's more coming. Lots more."
Pax Romana, Motherfucker.
Breaker of unbreakable things.
Breaker of unbreakable things.
There was plenty of shelving in the room. Chopper and Amber hastily added some to the pile of rubble blocking the entrance. Amber was in a hurry to get upstairs and find Billy and the rest of the gang. The sounds of gunfire from above had ceased, but Speed had not returned. As she pulled at the shelves the pain in her chest sharpened. Looking down, she could see that the blood soaking through her jacket. “Better put something on that”, she muttered to herself.
She found Speed near Sticks and Hock on the ground floor. “Where’s …” she began, then stopped short, taking in Sticks’ white face, and the blood on his jacket and the floor. “Jeez, what happened, you look like shit,” she told him. “Are you OK?”
She found Speed near Sticks and Hock on the ground floor. “Where’s …” she began, then stopped short, taking in Sticks’ white face, and the blood on his jacket and the floor. “Jeez, what happened, you look like shit,” she told him. “Are you OK?”
Ares cursed as he saw lots more on the edge of his field of vision. He adjusted the magnification on his shades to the full 20x to see what he could about the new challenge.
After taking a look, he donned his urban camo, then went and grabbed his backpack of gear, and pulled it onto both of his shoulders. His armor jacket was stuffed into the backpack as well. He might need to make a hasty exit.
He loaded a clip into each of his predators. Two extra holsters were strapped onto his waist, into which the predators were placed. Always good to have an extra firearm.
Two kilos of commercial explosives were placed near the stairwell and tuned to his radio detonator.
Rarely did Ares get serious about things, but now he was furious. His anger was channeled into going through these actions. Planning. He said nothing to his companions.
His combat vest was pulled on over his camo. An ammo pouch was strapped onto his waist along with the holsters. Several clips were placed in the pouch and into different pockets of the vest. His two HE grenades were fastened onto the vest as well for easy access. He made sure the stimulant patches and trauma patch were handy on the vest as well, instead of hidden away in his backpack.
Two darts coated in cyanide and five throwing knives were also placed on his person for easy access.
Finally, he pulled out an inhaler and opened his box of kamikaze. He eyed the 6 little cylinders of the drug with a strange lack of expression. He loaded one into the inhaler and placed one next to it. The four remaining remained in the box, which was put into his backpack. He shoved the inhaler and the spare dose into his pocket and waited.
He grabbed his ingrams and stared out the window at his victims. "Come on.. what are you waiting for..."
After taking a look, he donned his urban camo, then went and grabbed his backpack of gear, and pulled it onto both of his shoulders. His armor jacket was stuffed into the backpack as well. He might need to make a hasty exit.
He loaded a clip into each of his predators. Two extra holsters were strapped onto his waist, into which the predators were placed. Always good to have an extra firearm.
Two kilos of commercial explosives were placed near the stairwell and tuned to his radio detonator.
Rarely did Ares get serious about things, but now he was furious. His anger was channeled into going through these actions. Planning. He said nothing to his companions.
His combat vest was pulled on over his camo. An ammo pouch was strapped onto his waist along with the holsters. Several clips were placed in the pouch and into different pockets of the vest. His two HE grenades were fastened onto the vest as well for easy access. He made sure the stimulant patches and trauma patch were handy on the vest as well, instead of hidden away in his backpack.
Two darts coated in cyanide and five throwing knives were also placed on his person for easy access.
Finally, he pulled out an inhaler and opened his box of kamikaze. He eyed the 6 little cylinders of the drug with a strange lack of expression. He loaded one into the inhaler and placed one next to it. The four remaining remained in the box, which was put into his backpack. He shoved the inhaler and the spare dose into his pocket and waited.
He grabbed his ingrams and stared out the window at his victims. "Come on.. what are you waiting for..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
What are you looking at?
What are you looking at?
Hock's eyes widened when he saw Amber. "You've been hurt!" He dropped Stick's hand, and rushed over to the girl. "I can fix this, just a sec..."
Hock took Amber's hand, and held it close to his lips. The circles around his eyes grew darker and darker, And his nose seemed to elongate. It just touched the girl's hand, then suddenly dissolved into thin air. Before everyone's eyes, her wounds crusted over and healed.
Hock took Amber's hand, and held it close to his lips. The circles around his eyes grew darker and darker, And his nose seemed to elongate. It just touched the girl's hand, then suddenly dissolved into thin air. Before everyone's eyes, her wounds crusted over and healed.
-
Serious Paul
- Devil
- Posts: 6644
- Joined: Mon Mar 18, 2002 12:38 pm
Sticks looked at them all. Except for Toyman, Deke, and Ares they were all here. For a second he just stood there, as they stared at him, then he realized they were waiting for him to speak-to tell them what to do. Didn't they know he was as scared as they were? Couldn't they see it written across his face? No, they couldn't...
Jamming his hands into his jacket pockets, he ignored the blood and dust that coated him like a filthy second skin. Grabbing his nic sticks, he took one out, placing it carefully between his fingers, and then his lips. He didn't want them to see his hands shaking. Searching for his lighter, he moved his hands across his body in a patting motion when suddenly Nash produced a light. Bending over slightly his vision was nearly ecipsed by the small flame.
"Well," He said taking a long drag off his nic stick. "Looks like we won that round. But it ain't over yet." He smiled at them-drawing his lips as far apart as possible, so they wouldn't notice how drawn his face had become, how haggard he felt.
"We need to....."
Jamming his hands into his jacket pockets, he ignored the blood and dust that coated him like a filthy second skin. Grabbing his nic sticks, he took one out, placing it carefully between his fingers, and then his lips. He didn't want them to see his hands shaking. Searching for his lighter, he moved his hands across his body in a patting motion when suddenly Nash produced a light. Bending over slightly his vision was nearly ecipsed by the small flame.
"Well," He said taking a long drag off his nic stick. "Looks like we won that round. But it ain't over yet." He smiled at them-drawing his lips as far apart as possible, so they wouldn't notice how drawn his face had become, how haggard he felt.
"We need to....."
Toyman hopped onto the banister and almost literally flew down the stairs. Skidding to an unsteady halt at the bottom, he adjusted the straps on his RCD-backpack and raced through the door. Sticks was talking around the corner, where Baby Thunder had spotted him earlier near the door... "Well," Sticks was saying, "Looks like we won that round. But it ain't over yet." Turning quickly Toyman nearly barreled straight into Chopper coming up from below.
Sticks started to speak again, "We need to....."
"...we need to wall up or get the frag out. They're still out there, setting up to cover the doors. I don't think they know about Haze or Mist yet, so we have that, at least. There's some dust kicking up, I think more may be on the way... Boss, I don't like this, what the frag did they want, what did they mean send out the boy, what's..."
Toyman lapsed into silence as Sticks gave him an even stare. His mind was in over-drive and now that they had a break the adrenaline rush faded and he was getting scared as hell. Octane hadn't just come to beat the drek out of the Angels. That would've been different, Toyman could've understood that, but you don't get multiple gangs together for something like that... no, this was different. His mind spun around it over and over, like one of those sim chips stuck in a loop, each time the emotion reinforcing itself, pulling him further from reality and into his own fears.
He shook his head and glanced around. Others were hurt and Toyman hadn't even gotten into danger... he had no right to be scared, to be worrying about himself when they'd all been the ones to do the real work. Snapping his focus back to the present, he started listening to what was being said, and started planning out what to do next...
Sticks started to speak again, "We need to....."
"...we need to wall up or get the frag out. They're still out there, setting up to cover the doors. I don't think they know about Haze or Mist yet, so we have that, at least. There's some dust kicking up, I think more may be on the way... Boss, I don't like this, what the frag did they want, what did they mean send out the boy, what's..."
Toyman lapsed into silence as Sticks gave him an even stare. His mind was in over-drive and now that they had a break the adrenaline rush faded and he was getting scared as hell. Octane hadn't just come to beat the drek out of the Angels. That would've been different, Toyman could've understood that, but you don't get multiple gangs together for something like that... no, this was different. His mind spun around it over and over, like one of those sim chips stuck in a loop, each time the emotion reinforcing itself, pulling him further from reality and into his own fears.
He shook his head and glanced around. Others were hurt and Toyman hadn't even gotten into danger... he had no right to be scared, to be worrying about himself when they'd all been the ones to do the real work. Snapping his focus back to the present, he started listening to what was being said, and started planning out what to do next...
Sticks let a dead-eye stare roam across everyone's face before speaking again.
"Toy's right. Pack up whatever you've got and can carry. We meet up at the tunnel downstairs, head for the junkyard, maybe. Hock, UG: you guys can see in the dark, so you've got point. Ares, you, Speed and Nash take the rear. I'll carry Billy. Toy, if you got anything to seal the tunnel when we're through, set it up."
For a minute, Sticks looked thoughtful, fingering the edges of an old scar on his chest.
"Twenty minutes, at the tunnel. If you guys have to go to the bathroom, do it now. I will."
Sticks left the room, dissapearing into the old public restroom on the first floor.
"Toy's right. Pack up whatever you've got and can carry. We meet up at the tunnel downstairs, head for the junkyard, maybe. Hock, UG: you guys can see in the dark, so you've got point. Ares, you, Speed and Nash take the rear. I'll carry Billy. Toy, if you got anything to seal the tunnel when we're through, set it up."
For a minute, Sticks looked thoughtful, fingering the edges of an old scar on his chest.
"Twenty minutes, at the tunnel. If you guys have to go to the bathroom, do it now. I will."
Sticks left the room, dissapearing into the old public restroom on the first floor.
Ares remained on his second floor encampment, staring out over the road to the gathering mob. Every now and then he would practice whipping himself from a wall to aiming his guns in that direction, fingers weighing heavily to pull the triggers. But no shots were fired, it was only practice.
He hated this waiting. He hated these gangs. He hated Octane, and he hated the road that now sported hundreds more gangers. He wanted to destroy something, someone. Many things. Many people. Ares' mind replayed some of the more gruesome and painful deaths that had happened minutes earlier. The ork who laid on his back clutching his stomach and choking on his own blood as he slowly slipped into darkness. The other who got shot down and then trampled by his own companions.
His bloodlust had not been sated, however. This wrong had not been righted.
He hated this waiting. He hated these gangs. He hated Octane, and he hated the road that now sported hundreds more gangers. He wanted to destroy something, someone. Many things. Many people. Ares' mind replayed some of the more gruesome and painful deaths that had happened minutes earlier. The ork who laid on his back clutching his stomach and choking on his own blood as he slowly slipped into darkness. The other who got shot down and then trampled by his own companions.
His bloodlust had not been sated, however. This wrong had not been righted.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
What are you looking at?
What are you looking at?
-
Serious Paul
- Devil
- Posts: 6644
- Joined: Mon Mar 18, 2002 12:38 pm
At the entrance of the tunnels it suddenly hit them.
Nash was the first. Her eyes widened slightly, and then she realized. Realized what Sticks was doing. As the others made ready to enter the tunnel, she pulled Sticks off the side. before he had a chance to ask her what it was she wanted her switchblade was in her hands. She shoved it under his battered coat, and he felt it poke into his ribs, just below his heart. His eyes widened, but he kept cool.
"What the hell are you doing Nash?" His voice was barely above a whisper. He didn't want to panic the rest of them. He forced himself to keep his posture neutral, and his hands open. What the hell was she playing at?
"You bastard!" Nash hissed, her eyes ablaze. She jabbed him a little harder with the knife's tip. "You knew! You knew this was goign to happen!"
"What the hell are you on about? What would happen?"
"Eugene is too big to fit in the tunnel." And then it hit him.
"Oh...Oh shit." She knew as soon as he had reacted that it wasn't planned. The knife flashed out of her hands, disappearing into her pockets.
"Now what?"
Nash was the first. Her eyes widened slightly, and then she realized. Realized what Sticks was doing. As the others made ready to enter the tunnel, she pulled Sticks off the side. before he had a chance to ask her what it was she wanted her switchblade was in her hands. She shoved it under his battered coat, and he felt it poke into his ribs, just below his heart. His eyes widened, but he kept cool.
"What the hell are you doing Nash?" His voice was barely above a whisper. He didn't want to panic the rest of them. He forced himself to keep his posture neutral, and his hands open. What the hell was she playing at?
"You bastard!" Nash hissed, her eyes ablaze. She jabbed him a little harder with the knife's tip. "You knew! You knew this was goign to happen!"
"What the hell are you on about? What would happen?"
"Eugene is too big to fit in the tunnel." And then it hit him.
"Oh...Oh shit." She knew as soon as he had reacted that it wasn't planned. The knife flashed out of her hands, disappearing into her pockets.
"Now what?"
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Serious Paul
- Devil
- Posts: 6644
- Joined: Mon Mar 18, 2002 12:38 pm
She hadn't expected them to make this good of time. In another ten minutes they'd be in the Devils Playground, and then...then it was time to earn their keep. Griining ferally she revved her bike up till it redlined-hastily followed by two hundred other riders. Like the mongol hoard of old they were a fearsome sight...
In the back of thr group, Deke laughed. How long had these people lived here, and still they didn't know stupid things like how big their escape tunnel was? His laughter trailed off as a few people glanced at him in consternation. Apparently, they didn't think it was that funny.
He didn't care. He'd gotten a few decent hours of sleep, and felt as good as new. And he'd have a surprise for whomever got there next. He started back up the stairs, ignoring the others. This was the end of days for them. For him, it was just another in a long line of days in the Devil's Playground.
He didn't care. He'd gotten a few decent hours of sleep, and felt as good as new. And he'd have a surprise for whomever got there next. He started back up the stairs, ignoring the others. This was the end of days for them. For him, it was just another in a long line of days in the Devil's Playground.
<hr>I don't do jack but fighting, lighting up the streets at night, playing hide-and-seek with a machete, sets of Freddie's spikes. Some say I'm rolling on, nothing but a dog now: I answer that with a "Fuck you," and a bow-wow. <font color="#5c7898">Treach</font>
Hock reached into the muck on either side of the tunnel, and drew a dark mask onto his face. His eyes glazed over, and he began to take several dreamy steps.
If only the others could see this! he thought to himself. Every bit of algae and weed sparkled in the darkness of the tunnel. It was like walking in a field of fireflies, with the swirling lights of life dancing around him. This was more Raccoon's style, a stolen moment of pure magic, hidden in the sewers.
If only the others could see this! he thought to himself. Every bit of algae and weed sparkled in the darkness of the tunnel. It was like walking in a field of fireflies, with the swirling lights of life dancing around him. This was more Raccoon's style, a stolen moment of pure magic, hidden in the sewers.
Ares was right alongside Deke. He had been reluctant at best to go along with this silly notion of abandoning the library. Then he overheard the last part of that hushed conversation. Eugene isn't going to fit, huh.
"Tough luck, tough shit. C'mon Sticks, Nash, quit pussyfootin around. Let's make a stand and give this scum what it came for - a good thrashing." He paused, checking his guns over briefly, and watched Deke start out of the tunnels. "Deke, you're with me at least, right man? We can take 'em. They're nothin but street trash. This is OUR turf. I say if they want it, it'll have to be over our dead bodies."
As an after-thought, he added, "besides, the sewers smell like shit."
"Tough luck, tough shit. C'mon Sticks, Nash, quit pussyfootin around. Let's make a stand and give this scum what it came for - a good thrashing." He paused, checking his guns over briefly, and watched Deke start out of the tunnels. "Deke, you're with me at least, right man? We can take 'em. They're nothin but street trash. This is OUR turf. I say if they want it, it'll have to be over our dead bodies."
As an after-thought, he added, "besides, the sewers smell like shit."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
What are you looking at?
What are you looking at?
Sticks stared into the eyes of each person, and came to rest on Billy. He let out a breath.
"Alright. Dammit, I didn't think this through. Ares is right. Anyone that wants to stay here, we fight. Anyone that wants to go, you go through the tunnel with Billy...if you can't fit, we'll cover you and you can make a run for it. Either way, I want somebody to get Billy out of harm's way. Hock, Nash, I want to talk to you too alone for a minute while the rest of you decide."
Sticks goes and stands in the far corner, looking expectantly at Hock and Nash.
"Alright. Dammit, I didn't think this through. Ares is right. Anyone that wants to stay here, we fight. Anyone that wants to go, you go through the tunnel with Billy...if you can't fit, we'll cover you and you can make a run for it. Either way, I want somebody to get Billy out of harm's way. Hock, Nash, I want to talk to you too alone for a minute while the rest of you decide."
Sticks goes and stands in the far corner, looking expectantly at Hock and Nash.
Ares was a bit dumbfounded by the entire notion. One hand went up to his hair, brushing some of the dirty locks away from his shades. Then he sweaty back of his hand wiped some dirt from his brow and forehead. They were nervous ticks. Motions he would go through when he had something on his mind. He tried to keep his mouth shut for as long as possible, but outburst a few seconds after Sticks fell silent.
"Look, these scummers are here for Billy. They said so! They want him! You think having just a handful of us goin around with him without proper protection is a good idea? You think they'll be happy to just sit and duke it out forever? Shit, we don't even know who else is after him. Might surface in downtown and be snatched by the first person they see! We gotta make a more permanent solution to the problem. Once we geeked all these guys and they're paintin the streets red with their own blood and vomit, we can start considerin movin away from here. Especially after we start makin some of the survivors talk. But until then, we don't got enough answers! Just bullets and bikers! Now lets all get back up there and fix this problem!"
Unconsciously, his hands had drawn his guns, and he had started waving them and pointing them around.
"Look, these scummers are here for Billy. They said so! They want him! You think having just a handful of us goin around with him without proper protection is a good idea? You think they'll be happy to just sit and duke it out forever? Shit, we don't even know who else is after him. Might surface in downtown and be snatched by the first person they see! We gotta make a more permanent solution to the problem. Once we geeked all these guys and they're paintin the streets red with their own blood and vomit, we can start considerin movin away from here. Especially after we start makin some of the survivors talk. But until then, we don't got enough answers! Just bullets and bikers! Now lets all get back up there and fix this problem!"
Unconsciously, his hands had drawn his guns, and he had started waving them and pointing them around.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
What are you looking at?
What are you looking at?
Deke just kept walking, up the stairs and out of the library, leaving the others behind. His axe was strapped across his broad back, his shotguns hanging from their makeshift holsters on each thigh. He crossed the street and went down a block or so, to one of the hundred crumbled buildings dotting the landscape. One of the sliding garage doors was slightly less dirty than the rest; a trained eye might have noticed the door's bent grip was uncommonly free of ash. With a heave, Deke levered it open, nearly breaking the rotten tracks that barely held the door aloft.
Inside was his most recent pride, the motorcycle he'd always wanted. Sized for a troll and decked out with every combat biker accessory he could steal or scrounge, the bike was a gleaming testament to violence. Clips on the handlebars would hold his shotguns; another alongside would hold his axe like a lance, the way Trent Cole had done during his Combat Biker championship win last year.
Deke didn't bother to mount his weapons; he wasn't going to fight from the bike, not if he could help it. If he had to, he'd have plenty of warning to mount his weapons. Provided everything went the way he thought it would, and he didn't really possess the foresight to doubt that.
He swung a post-like leg over the bike's frame, kicked off the monsterous stand, and thumbed the engine to life. The broken readout above the handlebars blinked idly; he could have paid somebody to fix it, but it never told him anything he needed to know. He was used to stealing gas when he ran out, and speed limits didn't mean anything here. Neither did the bike's expensive nav gear. Someday, he'd tear the whole thing off, but it was too new to fuck with just yet.
He gunned the throttle, toed the bike into gear, and roared off toward the cloud of rising dust.
Inside was his most recent pride, the motorcycle he'd always wanted. Sized for a troll and decked out with every combat biker accessory he could steal or scrounge, the bike was a gleaming testament to violence. Clips on the handlebars would hold his shotguns; another alongside would hold his axe like a lance, the way Trent Cole had done during his Combat Biker championship win last year.
Deke didn't bother to mount his weapons; he wasn't going to fight from the bike, not if he could help it. If he had to, he'd have plenty of warning to mount his weapons. Provided everything went the way he thought it would, and he didn't really possess the foresight to doubt that.
He swung a post-like leg over the bike's frame, kicked off the monsterous stand, and thumbed the engine to life. The broken readout above the handlebars blinked idly; he could have paid somebody to fix it, but it never told him anything he needed to know. He was used to stealing gas when he ran out, and speed limits didn't mean anything here. Neither did the bike's expensive nav gear. Someday, he'd tear the whole thing off, but it was too new to fuck with just yet.
He gunned the throttle, toed the bike into gear, and roared off toward the cloud of rising dust.
<hr>I don't do jack but fighting, lighting up the streets at night, playing hide-and-seek with a machete, sets of Freddie's spikes. Some say I'm rolling on, nothing but a dog now: I answer that with a "Fuck you," and a bow-wow. <font color="#5c7898">Treach</font>
Amber stared longingly into the darkness of the tunnel. Closing her eyes against its false promise, she swore softly: "Ah, fuck it." She could fit, no doubt, but she couldn't leave UG behind. Escape that way was as much a dream as the celebrity lifestyle she loved to read about. This here was her reality - concrete, ash and violence.
She frowned at Deke, swaggering up the stairs. It wasn't good for people to go off alone. Especially Deke. Sticks didn't seem to mind, though. He was conferring quietly with Hock and Nash. Amber waited hopefully. Maybe he had a plan.
She frowned at Deke, swaggering up the stairs. It wasn't good for people to go off alone. Especially Deke. Sticks didn't seem to mind, though. He was conferring quietly with Hock and Nash. Amber waited hopefully. Maybe he had a plan.
Speed sat on the ground, next to the tunnel, with her head against the cold wall. Her eyes drifted about the room and things paused momentarily. There was commotion going on between Sticks and Nash, and Deke was headed for the stairs, but nothing broke Speed's trance. She sat there, staring at the buckle on her grenade pouch and quietly began humming a soft tune.
Death tommorrow,
To all who's left behind.
And then another,
This story plagues my mind.
Slowly, she rose to her feet and listened to the ambient noises in the room, trying to capture what was surrounding. Her head turned ever so slightly to allow the scenery from within the tunnel to paint the edge of her periphreal vision. It gleamed, but not in a beautiful sense. As soon as the time needed, Speed could fly down that tunnel with rapidness, because of her size and quickness. Or she may stay and fight. She counted the seconds and stared away.
Death tommorrow,
To all who's left behind.
And then another,
This story plagues my mind.
Slowly, she rose to her feet and listened to the ambient noises in the room, trying to capture what was surrounding. Her head turned ever so slightly to allow the scenery from within the tunnel to paint the edge of her periphreal vision. It gleamed, but not in a beautiful sense. As soon as the time needed, Speed could fly down that tunnel with rapidness, because of her size and quickness. Or she may stay and fight. She counted the seconds and stared away.
It's all about the Aces & Eights.
Hock mumbled something to Sticks, then crossed over to where Billy was. In the dim light, it was impossible to tell if the dark circles around Hock's eyes was natural, or the sublte signs of magic at work. His eyes went dreamy, as he carefully reached out, and tapped the boy on his shoulder.
"[mb]Billy?[/mb]" Hock asked, his voice taking on strange tones. "[mb]Billy, there's something I want to ask you. Do you know why they're after us? Please? Will you tell us?[/mb]" Hock's voice became oddly gentle, even as the strange tones resonated through his voice. "[glow]We[/glow] [blur]need[/blur] to [mb]know[/mb] the [glow]truth,[blur]Billy.[/blur][/glow] [mb]You're[/mb] [glow]not[/glow] in [blur][mb]trouble,[/mb][/blur] [glow]we [blur]just[/blur] [mb]need[/mb][/glow] to [mb]know[/mb] the [mb][glow][blur]truth....[/blur][/glow][/mb]"
--
"[mb]Billy?[/mb]" Hock asked, his voice taking on strange tones. "[mb]Billy, there's something I want to ask you. Do you know why they're after us? Please? Will you tell us?[/mb]" Hock's voice became oddly gentle, even as the strange tones resonated through his voice. "[glow]We[/glow] [blur]need[/blur] to [mb]know[/mb] the [glow]truth,[blur]Billy.[/blur][/glow] [mb]You're[/mb] [glow]not[/glow] in [blur][mb]trouble,[/mb][/blur] [glow]we [blur]just[/blur] [mb]need[/mb][/glow] to [mb]know[/mb] the [mb][glow][blur]truth....[/blur][/glow][/mb]"
--
UG was getting scared. The mean people were gone, but Sticks said that they were going to come back. So, they were going to run away, through the tunnels in the basement. But the tunnels were too small and now Nash and Sticks were fighting, and it was UG's fault. Ares was shouting, and Deke had just turned and walked out. And now Sticks was saying that they were going to all split up. UG didn't like the sound of that; he had a feeling that the two groups wouldn't be seeing each other again.
Sat there, wide eyes darting back and forth around the room. The tunnel was small. He'd never been in anything like it before. He didn't want to go in there; he wouldn't be able to go very fast, or even move around very much at all. But if that was the only way to keep everyone from leaving each other, he could try it.
Very quietly, he said, "Guys, I kin crawl through it. I kin make it."
Sat there, wide eyes darting back and forth around the room. The tunnel was small. He'd never been in anything like it before. He didn't want to go in there; he wouldn't be able to go very fast, or even move around very much at all. But if that was the only way to keep everyone from leaving each other, he could try it.
Very quietly, he said, "Guys, I kin crawl through it. I kin make it."
Toyman bounded down the stairs. He had stashed what he could in various hidey-holes around the library, pulled on his overalls despite the heat and charged up his cars and whichever of his 'copters that wasn't up in the air at the time. After stashing, he had started on some improvised explosives. He didn't have much to work with, but he'd managed to get a few of the left over bikes and start siphoning off gas into bottles for molotovs, but he set that aside when the time-limit approached. He had all his best stuff with him. He had squashed his fear into a tiny corner of his mind and locked it away. They were safe for now, and they would escape. He had arrived first, as he had intended. He set down Black Ice and ordered it to head down the tunnel, to make sure things were clear.
...
Toyman came back to himself with Nash accusing Sticks. The tunnel is too small? But... Oh... I never thought about Eugene... Drifting back into the car's senses, he scooted it back through the tunnel, scanning it for width... It was wide enough. UG could make it, maybe, with a little help.
Hock, Nash and Sticks were now in the corner. Black Ice zipped back into the room. Deke was gone. Ares had his guns out. Toyman had missed something. Well, it didn't matter. UG was talking... he was willing to try.
"I might be able to make it easier... if we still want to slip out. Slip... heh... well, that's what it'll literally be, I suppose..." Nervous laughter bubbled up from Toyman before he could stop it. He cackled and giggled and finally snuffed it out with everyone left looking at him. "What I mean is... after the smallest of us get out, I can spray the tight spots with oil. We could maybe use a rope or something to pull the bigger people through behind us. It won't be pleasant, but... it's something. I wanna go... you know I do, but... If we're staying, I'll stick it out with you. We can't split up. We're all in this together. So... if you guys wanna stay, I need to know now... with a little cover, we could go grab some of the bikes still lying there. Siphon off the gas and we can have some nice fire bombs for next time they try to come in... or maybe even just rig some of them to blow where they are. Maybe. I can set up more stuff... it all depends on how much time we got... but the sooner we decided, the sooner we can get to making them that's out there hurt..."
...
Toyman came back to himself with Nash accusing Sticks. The tunnel is too small? But... Oh... I never thought about Eugene... Drifting back into the car's senses, he scooted it back through the tunnel, scanning it for width... It was wide enough. UG could make it, maybe, with a little help.
Hock, Nash and Sticks were now in the corner. Black Ice zipped back into the room. Deke was gone. Ares had his guns out. Toyman had missed something. Well, it didn't matter. UG was talking... he was willing to try.
"I might be able to make it easier... if we still want to slip out. Slip... heh... well, that's what it'll literally be, I suppose..." Nervous laughter bubbled up from Toyman before he could stop it. He cackled and giggled and finally snuffed it out with everyone left looking at him. "What I mean is... after the smallest of us get out, I can spray the tight spots with oil. We could maybe use a rope or something to pull the bigger people through behind us. It won't be pleasant, but... it's something. I wanna go... you know I do, but... If we're staying, I'll stick it out with you. We can't split up. We're all in this together. So... if you guys wanna stay, I need to know now... with a little cover, we could go grab some of the bikes still lying there. Siphon off the gas and we can have some nice fire bombs for next time they try to come in... or maybe even just rig some of them to blow where they are. Maybe. I can set up more stuff... it all depends on how much time we got... but the sooner we decided, the sooner we can get to making them that's out there hurt..."
-
Serious Paul
- Devil
- Posts: 6644
- Joined: Mon Mar 18, 2002 12:38 pm
Billy looked at Hock, his head slightly titlted. Hock was obviously using some sort of spell-something he supposed that would compell the truth when he spoke, or maybe even analyze the truthfullness of his statements. Absorping the energy of the spell, and maskign that process was seemless for him. Alot like taking candy from a baby.
But didn't he owe them the truth? After all of this-all this death, all this destruction didn't he owe them the truth? That he'd been manipulating them all these years, guiding them, pushing them-admitedly with a benevolent hand, and gentlely. But still he had cheated them. He wasn't what they thought he was. He wasn't just some little boy. he wasn't their mascot, their private confidant. Not like they thought he was.
He was more. So much more beyond that. He could see Hock was desperate here, searching for something to save his friends-something to protect them. It was then he made his decision.
Looking up squarely at Hock he spoke, his voice barely containing the raw power of what he was.[glow]" All of you are in grave danger. We cannot take this tunnel. We must turn to the Mac Brothers for safety. We need to make it to their Junk yard."[/glow]
But didn't he owe them the truth? After all of this-all this death, all this destruction didn't he owe them the truth? That he'd been manipulating them all these years, guiding them, pushing them-admitedly with a benevolent hand, and gentlely. But still he had cheated them. He wasn't what they thought he was. He wasn't just some little boy. he wasn't their mascot, their private confidant. Not like they thought he was.
He was more. So much more beyond that. He could see Hock was desperate here, searching for something to save his friends-something to protect them. It was then he made his decision.
Looking up squarely at Hock he spoke, his voice barely containing the raw power of what he was.[glow]" All of you are in grave danger. We cannot take this tunnel. We must turn to the Mac Brothers for safety. We need to make it to their Junk yard."[/glow]
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Serious Paul
- Devil
- Posts: 6644
- Joined: Mon Mar 18, 2002 12:38 pm
So many self-styled go-gangs thought of themselves as old-fashioned cavalry. They rode abreast, as many as they were able to fit across the roads they traveled. She didn't look at it quite the same way. They could move faster than any horse could have dreamed, and while they were almost certainly louder than two hundred horses, and slightly less agile - only a little - they were far more powerful.
They had split into four columns of almost equal length. Her outriders were scouting the neighborhood - linking up with the shattered remains of the gangs who had attempted an early assault from what she'd gathered. She shook her head; obviously someone had underestimated these "Angels." She wouldn't make that same mistake.
Suddenly dozens of riders shot past her, weapons being drawn. There was someone in the road.
Her foreguards drew up short, covering the single ork rider. She rode slowly in toward him, allowing her columns to slowly break up into their practiced assault formations. Dozens of riders just now would be surrounding them from all approaches, blocking the retreat of any enemy forces, and flushing out any ambushers. They were no simple go-gang, playing at war: they were the Ancients.
The lone ork stood astride his idling road hog, sized for a troll and as such, appropriate for such a hulking ork. Though he wasn't tall, the rider was thick and broad, with curiously tensioned muscles; she suspected he was a vatjob, a strongman with a few miles of tensioning plastic in his body. That kind of body hacking was coarse in her eyes, unsubtle; for the short-lived.
They all came to a halt, the roar of the engines slowly rumbling to a quiet. For a moment, no one said anything. Finally, the ork loudly said, "What?"
They had split into four columns of almost equal length. Her outriders were scouting the neighborhood - linking up with the shattered remains of the gangs who had attempted an early assault from what she'd gathered. She shook her head; obviously someone had underestimated these "Angels." She wouldn't make that same mistake.
Suddenly dozens of riders shot past her, weapons being drawn. There was someone in the road.
Her foreguards drew up short, covering the single ork rider. She rode slowly in toward him, allowing her columns to slowly break up into their practiced assault formations. Dozens of riders just now would be surrounding them from all approaches, blocking the retreat of any enemy forces, and flushing out any ambushers. They were no simple go-gang, playing at war: they were the Ancients.
The lone ork stood astride his idling road hog, sized for a troll and as such, appropriate for such a hulking ork. Though he wasn't tall, the rider was thick and broad, with curiously tensioned muscles; she suspected he was a vatjob, a strongman with a few miles of tensioning plastic in his body. That kind of body hacking was coarse in her eyes, unsubtle; for the short-lived.
They all came to a halt, the roar of the engines slowly rumbling to a quiet. For a moment, no one said anything. Finally, the ork loudly said, "What?"
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Serious Paul
- Devil
- Posts: 6644
- Joined: Mon Mar 18, 2002 12:38 pm
At first she was merely stunned - who was this Ork, and what the hell was he doing here? But that question was shoved to the side by the absurd realization that he was one of them - one of the Angels she was sent to eradicate if necessary. Throwing her head back with a casual motion, she laughed. For a second it was silent except for her laughter and the shuffle of feet, and the idling engines.
Then like a switch had been thrown, the rest of the bikers started laughing, filling the streets with their laughter.
"What indeed. We want the boy. The one called 'Billy.'"
The ork looked unconcerned. "Okay." He shrugged. "He's down by the river. There's a tunnel."
The laughter ceased almost immediately. Her eyes narrowed, and she switched her bike off, thumbing the ignition key to accessory. Pulling her hair back into a tight pony tail, she bought some time while she thought.
"Let's say I believe you. Let's say I don't think this is some sort of ruse - why are you telling me this? Aren't you one of them?" She nodded towards the tattoos that covered his scarred form.
He looked briefly confused; deception was not something he understood that well. "Yeah. I'm one a them. He ain't. You get him, you get out. Don't want you in my hood." There was another pause as she collected her thoughts. He said: "C'mon. Get movin'."
She nodded her head. It made perfect sense - her instinct was that this thing wasn't necessarily on the best of terms with his people, or too damn smart, but none of that mattered now. Now she had a choice.
Believe him or not. Either way she couldn't allow his obvious lack of respect for her go unanswered. She'd have to have him killed. As an example. Smiling wider, she nodded.
"Fine, we'll collect the boy and leave." Shooting a hand signal, she sealed his fate.
Then like a switch had been thrown, the rest of the bikers started laughing, filling the streets with their laughter.
"What indeed. We want the boy. The one called 'Billy.'"
The ork looked unconcerned. "Okay." He shrugged. "He's down by the river. There's a tunnel."
The laughter ceased almost immediately. Her eyes narrowed, and she switched her bike off, thumbing the ignition key to accessory. Pulling her hair back into a tight pony tail, she bought some time while she thought.
"Let's say I believe you. Let's say I don't think this is some sort of ruse - why are you telling me this? Aren't you one of them?" She nodded towards the tattoos that covered his scarred form.
He looked briefly confused; deception was not something he understood that well. "Yeah. I'm one a them. He ain't. You get him, you get out. Don't want you in my hood." There was another pause as she collected her thoughts. He said: "C'mon. Get movin'."
She nodded her head. It made perfect sense - her instinct was that this thing wasn't necessarily on the best of terms with his people, or too damn smart, but none of that mattered now. Now she had a choice.
Believe him or not. Either way she couldn't allow his obvious lack of respect for her go unanswered. She'd have to have him killed. As an example. Smiling wider, she nodded.
"Fine, we'll collect the boy and leave." Shooting a hand signal, she sealed his fate.
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Serious Paul
- Devil
- Posts: 6644
- Joined: Mon Mar 18, 2002 12:38 pm
"C'mon. Get movin'."
"Fine, we'll collect the boy and leave." Ira saw the hand signal clearly. Kill the ork. Heh this would be too easy. Stepping off his bike he simply walked briskly up behind the ork, drawing his heavy caliber pistol. He'd simply place it just behind the trogs head and blow his brains out. Stupid goblins....
"Fine, we'll collect the boy and leave." Ira saw the hand signal clearly. Kill the ork. Heh this would be too easy. Stepping off his bike he simply walked briskly up behind the ork, drawing his heavy caliber pistol. He'd simply place it just behind the trogs head and blow his brains out. Stupid goblins....
He wasn't certain if he was disappointed or pleased. He certainly wasn't surprised. The leader gestured to someone behind him, who dismounted and began to approach from behind. The fool.
Deke never even let him close. At 2 meters, the massive ork twisted his axe from the homemade breakaway on his back and swung without looking. The elf never stood a chance; his head smoothly separated from his body and slid off to roll across the pavement. His body followed.
That broke it. The leader thumbed her bike back to life, and Deke was pleased to see the tiniest glint of fear in her eyes. He lived for the fear of his enemies. Fifteen of her personal guard began to approach, but like their foolish companion, they dismounted first, unable to use their two-handed fighting style from bikeback. Deke, raised on hours of pirated Combat Biker, was more pragmatic. This would be a dirty battle. His battle.
Deke never even let him close. At 2 meters, the massive ork twisted his axe from the homemade breakaway on his back and swung without looking. The elf never stood a chance; his head smoothly separated from his body and slid off to roll across the pavement. His body followed.
That broke it. The leader thumbed her bike back to life, and Deke was pleased to see the tiniest glint of fear in her eyes. He lived for the fear of his enemies. Fifteen of her personal guard began to approach, but like their foolish companion, they dismounted first, unable to use their two-handed fighting style from bikeback. Deke, raised on hours of pirated Combat Biker, was more pragmatic. This would be a dirty battle. His battle.
<hr>I don't do jack but fighting, lighting up the streets at night, playing hide-and-seek with a machete, sets of Freddie's spikes. Some say I'm rolling on, nothing but a dog now: I answer that with a "Fuck you," and a bow-wow. <font color="#5c7898">Treach</font>