As i said before, i would come to hate that nasty little smile and, so it holds true as i find myself out behind Tanica's with three other "people" who were down on their luck and needed/wanted cash, we were all hanging out in the little holding yard that Tani likes to store her empty kegs and crates in the mesh fence keeps most of the burb brats out but there are little splotches of graffiti here and there on the brickwork, my companions (for the moment) are a patchwork lot, a gang banger with a bright red Mohawk and several tattoos on his face that all but say, I'm a bad mutha fukka PLEASE DON'T HURT ME!, he has the most beautiful leather duster on all black and sleek fresh off the shelf if i were to guess, and a big ole plasma cannon hanging off his back, pair of pistols in his belt and a chest plate that looks to have been recently painted in a black and red tribal jag of some sort hard to see past all the bandoleers and buckles, i think he's doing this for a jump in rep or something.
Winner number one in our group is a rather annoyed looking woman with a mop of black beaded braids and a squeaky clean suit of plastic man armor the helmet under her arm and a rifle across her back the wilks laser pistol sits comfortably in a well used holster, her hand never strays more than eight inches from it she is currently scowling at me because once again i seem to have said all this out loud, crap!
Winner number two is the skinniest cyborg i have ever seen in my entire life, all black gloss less paint and no integral weapon mounts he has a head shaped like bullet and no visible optics, kind of unnerving, the weapons on his person look alien all big barrels and blocky mags, almost cartoonish really but they look neat, never seen the like of it, though i have to say not impressed with the lack of armor, i always thought borgs were supposed to be walking tanks, meh!
And last, but not least, me.
What are we doing out here? you ask, well Tani my sweet, evil, utterly heartless, love has need of a certain something, to be gathered from a certain someone, who must remain underground for reasons that we just don't need to know about, how utterly horrid.
Little Known Fact: Crazies have a fantastic sense of smell and hearing.
Well Known Fact: Tunnels magnify noise to truly awful levels, noises like oh say gunfire which is already loud.
So here is the formula kiddies: fantastic hearing + really loud gunfire + enclosed spaces = bad
Anywho lesson time over, the entrance to the "underground" is less than auspicious, the manhole cover before us being the first of several "doorways" we would need to pass through, the tunnel works beneath the city are less than hospitable if you happen to be a peaceful sort, so i guess we are kind of lucky in that regard. We are however unlucky that our cyborg companion is not a touch more intimidating, as a rule of thumb Intimidation saves ammo, but then again ammo is meant to be spent, no?
So to get things underway i grab the little holes of the manhole cover and pop the ole cork, she comes away smooth and quiet(guess I'm not the first to pass through this portal *wink wink*), all joking aside its dark as sin down there, a great black nothing eager to devour all that is light and good in the world, well good thing i have my little angel as she starts singing her bright but silent song driving away the dark, like a carrot stick wielding mom, scares away a fat kid, I decide to take the plunge with a bit of glowing help to ease the transition I drop down into the tunnel its a fair fall an easy fifteen feet before i hit ankle deep sludge, my splash echoes uncannily like a wet fart in a movie theater.
Its at this point i notice the ladder, and the truly monstrous rat beyond said ladder, the words "is your name Splinter?" leave my mouth in short order, it crouches low and hisses at me like a massive leaky tire its long thick fur matted with filth and its single red eye reflecting my light, this is not a knife moment by any means so i go for the ole rifle hoping against hope that it doesn't eat energy beams. As the fun sized gerbil from hell readies to leap at me, my now favorite teammate lands between me and mighty mouse in all his bionic bullet headed glory, splashing me with gunk as he lands, and startling the giant rat who seems to think better of the situation and backs up still hissing, i decide to be proactive for a change and rest my rifle on the tin woodsman's shoulder lining up the irons on that big ole maw and squeezing off a shot as bullet head reaches to grab my weapon.
Ever pop a water balloon full of tomato sauce and stale croutons in your parents bedroom, no?
Just me then? ah hell, the effect is very similar and somehow less horrible as it turns out Bullethead (as he shall now be called) is a good six inches taller and a full four inches broader than myself, and makes an excellent bit of cover in a pinch i manage to get him between the mess and me in short order and avoid having a much steeper dry cleaning bill.
After the whole "giant rat" fiasco was sorted out it was time to check the map, good news: we don't have to wade through giant rate puree, badnews: we need to go upstream, so with a heavy heart and filthy boots we begin to march, the first to crack is the gang banger who just starts bitching "oh it smells, oh this better not be shit, oh its leaking into my boots, if the crazy doesn't stop talking shit about me I'm gonna shoot him ...crap" well as it turns out he isn't stupid just a whiner as he doesn't attempt to out draw me, he does thankfully shut up for all of half an hour, its a boring, foul smelling trip upstream with only my lovely little lamp for light no one seems keen on shining a torch down any side passages or up towards the network of pipes above us, where there are many many rats by the way.
That the rats did not descend upon us to wreak bloody vengeance upon us for killing their fun sized overlord was one small blessing, another small blessing was when our ganger friend got shot in the face with a nice wholesome serving of buckshot courtesy of some jack ass off in a side tunnel THAT NO ONE BOTHERED CHECKING! (said that last bit out loud on purpose heheh) my ears were a ringing painfully after that lovely bit of gunplay, not ringing so loudly i didn't hear our shotgun wielding B.F.F. chambering another round from the left or see the shine off a couple of blades from the left or hear the hooting and jeering from down the tunnel as what must be an entire hill(tunnel)billy convention rolls down on us, I'd have taken a moment to enlighten my companions to this little tidbit or tactical data if i didn't have more pressing business, our shotgun toting friend had just finished cycling another round and was lining up his shot, I am already moving at this point (yes i can extrapolate and fight at the same time), I see him lining up on bullet head using the darkness as cover, I'm surprised he didn't shoot at me, glad of course, but surprised, not as surprised as he is when i close the distance before he can pull the trigger, I manage to yank the barrel towards the knife wielding guys on the other side of the main tunnel, another quick jerk and the gun deafens me for a few minutes, catches one of his buddies in the chest but still, not being able to hear in a fight is very bad.
Bullet head doesn't even bother going for his gun he just marches towards the group coming down the main tunnel, I think he wants to have a hoe down with the hill(tunnel)billys, and Beads she has her Wilk's in hand and lines the laser sight up with one of our knife wielding friends opposite the tunnel, but the man with the shooter is my priority, with a sharp pull i yank the weapon out of his hands, and promptly slap him in the head with his own gun, he drops like a sack of grapes, as Beads opens up on the knife boy/girl still advancing on her, his friend having died due to an overdose of buckshot, sadly my ears were still ringing or i might have known his buddy was dead/dying, Beads wastes no time drilling a fist sized hole in the crazy (this is me saying that) knife wielders face.
Bullethead isn't even half way down the tunnel still in the light of my little lamp (Beads is pretty quick for a squishy) i make my way back to Beads, must have startled her cause she starts turning with her Wilks leading the way i manage to catch the barrel before she makes a mistake she would later regret (FORESHADOWING!) I thrust the shotgun into her hands and nodded to the recently vacated side passages, she seemed to pick up on the need for cover even as the first few shots started splashing into the sludge one such shot found my back plate and actually rocked me forward a step, admittedly startled its perfectly understandable that i would snatch the shotgun out of Bead's hand and open fire up the tunnel screaming "COME GET ME YOU INBRED HICKS" I don't remember a whole lot after that, I do vaguely remember passing by Bullethead and running into a crowded place, i also remember swinging the shotgun around by its barrel, but everything else is a red haze.
I came too on a pile of bodies my arms and legs throbbing and my head feeling really fuzzy, Bullet head was standing over me with an assault rifle in his hands and i still couldn't hear a damn thing i saw the muzzle flash a rapid strobe in the dim light of my lamp, still hanging off my shoulder a distinctly red glare, I managed to get my feet under me in time to see Beads making her cautious way towards us a flare burning cheerily in her gloved hand her laser site cutting a brilliant red beam through the shadows that pooled around us, Bullet head reloaded his rifle from a nearby corpse, nimble fingers easily removing magazines from belts and pockets adding them to his own personal munitions pile, my right hand is still wrapped around the bent barrel of the shotgun fingers locked firmly in place i manage to pry them loose and get to my feet, an unfamiliar shakiness in my limbs has me a bit worried, and my lack of energy is a first, normally i don't sit for this long a time, i can see Beads talking gesturing and her mouth moving behind the faceplate of her helmet but i cant hear a thing, I'll need to take a moment to get the old healing program underway hopefully it can mend whatever is wrong with me, Bullethead grabs my arm, i didn't even see him do it and soon he (i think he's a "he") is dragging me down the tunnel, i spend some time staring at the sludge rolling past my ankles before we stop at last, my energy level is creeping back up to its usual platue, I tell them i need a few minutes, they seem to get the message cause Bullethead lets go of my arm and i manage to get to my feet and wander over to a convenient ledge just out of the "water" I take a moment close my eyes and thats when i start itching all over i can feel every bruise scrape and cut on my body, feel them itch and grow hot then pull closed.
When the itching stopped my legs felt steady and my energy level was back to its usual high and my ears had stopped ringing just in time to hear beads suggest that they leave me behind, I politely flipped her off as i got to my feet, a quick check showed that i hadn't lost anything and the blood had congealed on my lamp making the shadows lean in closer than i was strictly comfortable so i gave the glass a thorough scrubbing with my sleeve and managed to clear away some of the gunk causing my little angel to shine like new forcing the shadows back to their usual distance.
I was more than ready to move on at this point, the others had already moved ahead, so I wasted no time in jogging to catch up, they were staring down at the tiny screen of our PDA map to the "Underground" Bullethead didn't seem bothered by our lack of progress, mind you its hard to tell with him what with lacking a face and all, Beads was scowling as i peeked over her shoulder and took a gander at the map, seems we have about four more miles of rank, foul, slick, plain NASTY tunnel left. The "water" here was deeper than elsewhere as we found ourselves at the foot of a short incline where (hopefully) the going would be a bit smoother. My newly restored hearing caught the sound of a size twelve combat boot scraping against something unmentionable just up the "hill" as i nudged my companions and nodded up the way a figure made itself visible to use easily six feet tall dressed in plate armor that revealed his drug harness, fuck knuckles its a god damn Juicer.
