Larry fell against the door, his lungs burning with every forced breath. He was sure a rib was broken at the very least, probably punctured something. He glanced down at his leg, blood was still seeping from the gash in his armour, he tried to straighten his leg fully to check the extent of his injury but the damaged servo protested with a whine. He turned to the door and forced his card into the highlighted slot, the door remained closed.
"Come on come on. For fuck’s sake open up."
He manhandled the card in and out of the slot a few more times cursing with every try, still the door refused to open. He stared at the immobile barrier until he made out the faint lines beneath the grime and dirt. He reached up to clear some of the dirt away but this just resulted in a smear of blood being added. He tried again with the side of his arm and managed to clear enough to make out the large number below. Two SCL letters above him, it may as well be two clear levels. He was fucked.
They should never have taken another Hunter Sheet so soon, they were pushing their luck. The first had gone easy enough, they had made sure that that sick fucker Barney wouldn’t corrupt any more children with his big purple monster. They should have left it at that, gone back to normal BPNs, but they didn’t, and now Watch with Mother were fucked. A whole squad wiped out, Andy P and Sage were dead, Torchie a crumpled mass. He’d seen Muffin go down, he might be growing an arm back somewhere, he might come out of this alive. He wondered how long that Hunter Sheet had been in Huntmaster, they probably weren’t the first squad that had tried to bring it in. His breathing became ragged again and he slumped down against the door for a rest.
He started, his head striking against the door behind him, had he dropped off? He was sure he had, how long had he been out? He looked around at the service tubes, grills and pipes. He figured he was still at least three or four levels below an inhabited one. He had to find another stairway or up-pipe. There. What was that? He was sure he had heard something back the way he had come. He tried to stand but the pain forced him back down. After a few pain-wracked deep breaths he held the empty Gunhead against the mag-hold on his thigh. With his good arm he reached up and took hold of a pipe running along the wall and gritting his teeth he pulled himself upright. He was sure that the only reason his leg didn’t give way beneath him was that the jammed servo wouldn’t bend enough to let it.
A shape appeared in the dim light the overheads gave out. A DAC, a large one, powerfully built with muscles rippling under his yellow and red stripped skin. The DAC cocked his head to one side and growled.
"Round Rim".
A custom model with vox-job, expensive piece of shit. How the hell did four piss-arsed mutants get hold of a prime piece of merchandise like that? Runaway it had to be. Then he heard the tune, that damn tune, echoing through the tunnels and tubes. He reached for the powerdisc in the small of his back but the hold was empty. Fuck it, it must have been knocked off somewhere during his flight. He checked the ground around him. No sign of it. He drew the Mac with his left hand, flexed the right till the mutilator hummed to life, though it made his hand ache like hell and made the air smell of blood as the glove warmed it up. The darkness in the tube ahead of him was dispelled by a flashing lights cycling through sharp primary colours, red, orange, yellow, green, blue, red, orange, yellow, green, blue. He backed up down the tube keeping his eyes fixed on the reflecting light ahead. They were here, the Tweeny Cognate.
"Hey, hey, are you ready to play?"
The voice came from behind him, he almost dropped his knife as he spun round. Jake, the youngest amongst them but that didn’t make him any the less dangerous. With a gleam in his eyes and clutching a fireaxe he stood framed in the pipe with his hands on his hips, his face reflecting the orange glow. Larry recognised Captain Contract’s trademark stance,
"It’s time to come and play with the Tweenies"
Keeping Jake in sight he slowly turned his body to see the new arrival. She stood in the tube swinging back and forth, acting all coy, only the blood-drenched chainaxe clasped delicately before her spoiling the picture. Her angelic face framed by her hair red hair, no blond hair dyed pinky-red with blood, as were her clothes. Fizz. The light changed to yellow. A few paces behind her a hunched-over form loped into sight. The light cycled through Green and Blue.
"Hey, hey, what do you say?"
Milo, fuck-headed freak.
"Come along and play with the Tweenies!"
And the worst of the lot. Bella. A sadist from her big boots to her bleached blond hair. She came into sight carrying the hand oyster in one hand. It’s screen the source of the cycling colours, currently a deep blue light spilled forth.
"Hey everybody look at me everybody I’m a Carnivourous Pig, SNORT, SNORT, STOMPEROONEY!"
"Oh Milo, you are funny."
"Wow-wee that was fun. Can we chase him again?"
"No Jake. It isn’t time." Bella’s statement punctuated with a stamp of her foot.
The cycle of colours slowed and then stopped, Bella’s face was cast a deep blue. Her face split in a huge smile, it proved contagious, the others saw the colour and smiled.
"It’s messy time."
Comments / questions to Martin Wheeler