Category Archives: Scavvies

No country for old Kids

You’re sure you know the way?“, the suspicious Heavy grumbled. For hours, the stinking Scummer had traced and led them to a place where he expected some lousy Scavvies. Their peeled skins would make a great price back in Dead End Pass, he was sure. Yet he was absolutely not sure about their scouts motives, who was always playing with his big stupid Plasma pistol… An item he increasingley envied him for. Not many weapons of such exaggerating destructive potential made it thus far in the underbelly of Hive Primus, he suggested.

Socrates, shut it!” another guy behind them hissed. Wielding an absurdely large Bolter, their leader “Papa Steve” Anastasoff tried to keep the gang together while hiding his own exhaustion. They knew that there would be some Scavvies down under, so they had to keep their babbling to a minimum or else would get sacked themselves…

There! A bunch of lurking Scavvies searching for some letftovers from the tunnel rats. About two dozen metres away, they hadn’t seen the sneaky Delaque. Well, Papa Steve would surely take advantage of their limited senses. “Fries, Shake, Oblomov! Get into those maintenance tunnels and flame their arses from behind. We’ll take them heads on!” he bellowed in a whisper to two of the kids who prepared their Flaming pistols, really costly and prestigous things down here. Oblomov, the old and experienced lad, would help them with his shotgun after their fuel was flamed upon those mutants.

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The rest made quite a show. Forming a straight line, the Delaque readied their weapons (Xerxes insisted on carrying his heavy Flamer, altough he would be of little use. Be it so, Papa thought). They walked slowly towards the mutants, weapons ready to fire. The Scavvies saw them after some meters of walking, but were too shocked to move, Papa noticed with a satisfied nod. He began to count in a whisper, barely hearable except for the sharpened listening abilities of true Delaque.

2…

1…

Now!

Then hell brake loose.

The sound of the Boltgun and the heavy Stubber bursted into a shrieking crescendo, multiplicated and echoed from the walls of the gigantic caverns walls. The air was ripped apart when the Summer released a bowl of Plasma in the direction of the Scavvies. The steaming Plasma melted down some metal, but didn’t really harm any mutants. Worse, Socrates’ and Steves’ heavy weapons both had malfunctions which made their weapons useless. Crap! Even worse, Steve noticed first the stench and then the muzzle flash from the muties’ friends. They were surrounded!

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Fries, Shake and Pete crawled through some maintenance tunnels. It would be easy, Papa had promised, just release the flaming oil on those pestilencous Scavvies and slit the throats of the burning underworlders. Simple. Even for some kids. Well, there they were, just some meters from the backside of the mutants. Just a jump and…

Fries knew that something wasn’t right when he saw into the eyes of half a dozen Scavvies. This was not good. They should hear the rattling sound of Xerxes’ heavy stubber, but there was silence save for some melee sounds to their left. He saw Socrates, smashing his heavy Flamer into the head of one of those things. Crap, even he had no more ammunition. Well, at least they had their full Flaming pistols…

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Steve had to rethink his battle plan, fast! He had ordered Xerxes with his Flamer to the right to support Oblomov and the two kids, while he and three other lads jumped forward and tried to keep the Scavvies who moved forward at bay. If they managed to shoot some of them down, they still had a chance…

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Silence.

Darkness.

Fries opened his eyes, his mind damped in soft, pink clouds. He felt hunger. His bite marks itched, his belly was empty and hurted. He tried to uplift himself and stand up, yet was too weak. Beside the emptiness in his stomach, his limbs felt numb and deaf. Suddenly, the door to the room was opened from outside…

Papa Steve also was tired. And hungry. It felt days he last had a bite of a fried rat or a good cup of Wildsnake. But the news concerning his men were even worse. All the kids had been killed or greavily wounded, their mercenary scout was partially deafened, and to make things worse, they were broke on credits. They would need a hit, and this pretty soon…

Boss, you should see Fries“, Xerxes said. The old veteran had fueled his Flamer and had put him aside, now repairing the other gangers weapons. “He had quite a harsh fight, and will need time to recover“. Altough Xerxes was no medic, Steve trusted his words. He would need to speak to the kid and cheer him up a little bit. The leader knew that a well-placed little speech could do wonders encouraging his fellow men.

When he opened the door to the small room they had put the kid in, Steves senses in his nostrils were hit by the brutal and caustic stench pouring out of the small chamber. Obviously, something had rottten here for quite some time. He saw he kid, resting on his elbows and backside, facing him. His chest didn’t move, but the kid was clearly alive, fixating him with his eyes and holding contact. A test of his will? Steve wasn’t sure, but he didn’t feel very comfortably with the lad.

Feeling better, eh?” the older man said to the young Juve. “Don’t be worried, we gave old smellyskins some good wipping and will be rewarded greatly by the Guilders“, he lied to the Kid. Usually, promises of Wildsnake and easy company back home with the girls always worked wonders with the easy-to-be-mocked kids. But not this creepy kid. He still stared at him and didn’t breath…

Fries’ mind was melted in red clouds, floating through the remaining parts of his brain. What was left of the Juve’s personality still recognized the presence of his Gang Leader, but that didn’t matter any more. Nothing mattered, beside his endless hunger. With the swiftness of a wild snake, the zombified kid leaped forward and threw himself against the much more experienced and tougher gang leader. Both rolled over the floor, holding each other at the throat. With his bare fingers, the Zombie kid ripped deep wounds in the chest and face of the man he had called “Papa” some hours ago. Steve, totally overwhelmed from the attack, managed to hold the kid at it’s throat.

Collecting his last reserves of strength, he was able to reach for his Stub gun in its holster and pull it out. He knew that he would be in deep, deep trouble if the Zombie formerly being Fries would be able to bite him, so he accepted the pain of the brainless’ claws scratching and ripping his chest. He pointed the bad end of his gun at the kids head and pulled the trigger…

It was a good shot. Point blank. The grey mass of the seldom used and now squished brain was scattered over the floor. So much for that lad, Papa Steve thought. Perhaps the next kids would be of more use…

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