Moving up hive: Guilder Trouble

Part One

Rick-o was still worried about Des. Even though Doc Gruss had told him the girl was going to be fine, he was still worried. He had even made five of his guy's stake out Doc Gruss's filthy, run-down tenement. He was taking no chances on anyone hurting Des like that again.

Since the Emily Sisters had been wiped out in a single night-cycle of bloodshed and killing, the Chem Brothers were doing good. They had taken over this entire level, 566, and had been trying to get some turf on the next one up. In fact, the Chem Brothers would have turf up there, except for Guilder Malhoon.

Every time Rick-o or Johnny would be putting the smack on some other losers or kicking the crap out of a juvie, Guilder Malhoon and his thugs would show up, flashing a contract, his thin and high voice echoing, saying the other gang had a guild contract and that the Chem Brothers couldn't touch them. If Malhoon didn't have his shell-armored thugs, with their fancy up-hive boltguns, Rick-o would have shoved a knife in the bastard's sternum in a heartbeat.

So, instead of just finding some other turf to claim, Rick-o was going to lay an ambush for the Guilder bastard. In two cycles, Johnny, Krove, Names and Dev, who now carried Kush's stubber, were to meet Malhoon in an old manufactorium, under the guise of buying guns and ammo. Rick-o and ten other Chem Brothers would be waiting in the web of gantries that hung above. If all went as planned and there were no major fuck-ups, Malhoon and his cronies would be dead and the Chem Brothers would move in, guns blazing. If all went as planned.

In the meantime, Rick-o was trying to secure some heavier guns from a down-hiver merchant. Personally, Rick-o thought the old scavie and his eight damn sons were trying to scam him. He didn't like that at all. Once again, if things went sour, he would start blasting and go from there. He was packing major heat; he had his twin pistols, a sawed-off autogun, and two trench daggers, all under his long, black leather trench coat. Going with him was Jamat, some weird bastard from way down hive, Names and Jena, the newest bitch in the gang. She was freaky, with enough tattoos and piercings for gang of freaks. Her coat was decorated with enough spikes and blades for it to be a weapon in its own right.

To get down hive, the gangers were taking Mekanics trolley. The Mekanic, a crazy, ancient Mechanicus priest, had supposedly traveled to the trolley over four hundred years ago. For a ride, he usually charged something weird, like old parts or shit like that.

When the four gangers reached the Mekanics landing on this level, they found the red-robed man-thing already there, waiting. Now, he gave Rick-o the creeps. His face was half augmetics and what he could see of Mekanics hands, they were pure machine, all gears and pistons.

"What have you brought me this time, Rick-o?" the old man hissed, his voice thin and reedy, yet somehow metallic in natural. It was unnerving. Jena threw a sack of rusted and useless parts at the Mekanics feet. He seemed to cringe at the harsh crashing sound of the parts hitting the riveted metal floor. The Mekanic rooted around in the bag for a moment and stood up again, hissing again, "Your payment is suitable. Which level do you want to go?"

"560. No questions asked, alright?"

"Done. Welcome, as always, to the Trolley." The trolley the crazed Mekanic was referring to was a vertical cable-car, probably as old as the hive itself. Rick-o had once tried to see how far up-hive the cables went, but he couldn't see that far.

Jena and Jemat, who had never ridden on the Trolley, were hesitant to step into the gently rocking steel cage. Rick-o and Names had ridden the Trolley before and stepped into the cage with only a little hesitation.

The Mekanic slammed the Trolley door shut after them. What the fuck, thought Rick-o, the Mekanic always rode in the Trolley. Rick-o stepped forward and interlaced his fingers into the wire-mesh door and called out, "What kind of scam are you pulling?"

The Mekanic looked up, with a sinister smile on his face. "I never liked you Rick-o. I hope you die." With that, the Mekanic wrenched a lever mounted in the floor and the Trolley shot downward at an alarming speed.

Rick-o clenched his fingers into the mesh and fought to keep his balance. He saw at least ten levels go by in a blur, before the Trolley stopped in an instant. He was thrown to the floor, to be have his fingers crushed Jemats boot.

"Oh shit." It was Jena, who was shouldering her autogun and opening fire on someone Rick-o couldn't see. Jemat was still standing on his hand and he couldn't stand. Names and Jemat both opened up also, the hot casings spilling onto Rick-o.

A hugely loud crack drowned out all the Chem Brothers fire. Jena's body fell, with a fist sized hole in her chest. A dozen more crack-shrieks filled the air with noise and the mutilated bodies of Jemat and Names fell onto Rick-o. He could feel their blood dripping onto his hair.

Who the fuck was that? The crack-shrieks meant boltguns and the only dudes that Rick-o knew had boltguns was Malhoons thugs. Which meant Malhoon had tried to rub Rick-o out and Rick-o didn't like that one bit.

He felt the weight lifted off his back, but the wiry ganger stayed still, holding his breath and closing his eyes. A strong hand flipped him over, but Rick-o kept still as a corpse. Then, he felt a massive gun-barrel prodding his cheek.

"Ha-ha boss, Rick-o bought it."

"Good. Leave the bodies and let's go. We've got an appointment to keep with the rest of those damn Chem dogs." It was Malhoon's voice.

Rick-o was beyond pissed. Three of his gangers had died almost without a fight and now the guilder and his thugs were going to try and slaughter his gang.

"I say we put a bullet in Rick-o's head just to make sure he's dead." It was voice that Rick-o wished he did not recognize. The voice of Johnny.

"I'm not paying you for your opinion, Johnny. If anything, I should put a bolt in your head. But I'm not. Rick-o and his Chem Brothers were getting in my way and you offered to sell out the gang. That is why I'm paying you." It was Malhoon.

Rick-o couldn't hold his breath much longer. His chest was aching and it felt like his lungs were going to burst.

"Let's go." Rick-o could hear about six men walking away. Waiting about five more seconds, he cautiously opened one eye. Nothing and no one. Sucking in great gulps of air, he looked at his gangers cooling bodies. He grabbed Jena's autogun and Names's grenades. He had some people to kill.