Part the six
So Bonky heads down the hall to his own apartment and sets about finding all the things essential to spending a day down in the sewers killing things that his employer would rather didn’t find their way to the light of day. Well, at least up into the rain. He keeps his work things in the room where he sleeps, just off the lounge room. It is no larger than Jen’s cramped living area, but it feels much more spacious because every surface is not covered with random pieces of electronic junk. True, a lot of space is taken up by various assorted (Stormer-sized) take out cartons, but in one or two places the carpet is actually visible, give or take. Bonky is proud of this fact, and sometimes reminds Jen of it. Often she tells him to ‘go away’, but Bonky knows she is only joking so he doesn’t. Bonky thinks that sometimes it is nice to have a joke that no one else understands.
Today, though, he is more concerned with the present that Jen has given him, and how it will fit the rest of his equipment. Bonky knows that to go to work ill-prepared is a disaster-waiting-to-happen-for-you-and-your-squadmates, so he always takes extra care in making sure everything is just right.
His armour and weapons are kept in a large steel chest, like a locker, that he and the squad rescued from a previous job. Jen has modified it so that it only opens for him and her, and has put extra armour on the inside so that it will be harder for anyone to steal Bonky’s things. Bonky had come across the original box when the squad had been told to clear out all the things from a block of apartments whose residents had finished with them. It had taken them all week but eventually all the insides of the building were removed and packed away to somewhere else.
Bonky had been particularly impressed by the heavy locker that he had been asked to carry downstairs, partly because it had a picture of Davenport on it. Davenport was Bonky’s favourite Kontrakt Killer at the time, and on the locker door there was a nearly life-sized picture of him carrying his trademark double pistol combination, so that he would be there in the mornings for Bonky to say hello to. He had gotten Mel to phone up the right people and they had let Bonky buy the locker. Steve had looked at him in a funny way when he said that but Bonky thought he was just jealous. It was good how Steve kept it under control though, and didn’t complain once. Bonky made a mental note to let Steve look at the picture of Davenport any time he wanted. Although strangely Steve had never asked. Must be sad it wasn’t in his flat, Bonky justifies to himself as he buckles, fastens and adjusts his armour.
The practised movements are second nature to Bonky and soon he stands, examining himself briefly in the small mirror that hangs next to the door. Heavy ceramic plating covers him from head to toe, nicked where he has taken fire or blades in his stride before. Originally black, the armour is now multi-hued, covered in stickers and advertising for everything from cola to comics. Bonky doesn’t have any proper sponsors but no one seems to mind him decorating his armour. It makes him happy, as Bonky thinks his modifications make him stand out in a crowd.
He checks his Chainaxe, switches it on briefly to test and swipes it through the air a couple of times. It is a brutal weapon, chewing through opponents and spitting them out much like Bonky would if he were eating them and they didn’t taste good. Bonky favours it because it is simple, but effective, and does not run out of bullets.
He sighs as he attaches the Chainaxe to its holder on the back of his armour. He had promised Jacinta he would take along a gun this time, just in case. He picks up a small pistol from a shelf in the locker and checks it methodically, sighing again as he snicks it into its magnetic holster and finds some spare clips of ammo, toy-like in one clawed hand. If they would let him have a proper gun it would be all right, but this little thing would be better off in the hands of a child, who could then learn how to shoot right. Never mind.
After stowing the clips next to the pistol, Bonky feels his mouth go slightly dry and his hands shake ever so slightly. Its time to put on the GASH fist properly. He unclips the right forearm of his armour and carefully places the plating in a spare corner of the locker. In its place he attaches the GASH fist and slots the interface into place. He is rewarded with a tiny ‘bleep’ and the fist makes small self-check noises. He quickly looks inside the suit’s helmet and there are some tiny tell tales on the Heads-Up-Display that indicate everything is working OK. There is also a message from Jen: “Hope you like it, be careful!” It scrolls along the bottom of the helmet’s display and cycles again a couple of times before disappearing. Bonky’s heart swells: its going to be a good day.
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