Mon Jul 25, 2005 5:31 pm by [GR]_Fallen_Angel
I appologise if this isnt that great, i just got my wisdom teeth out, and after a painful meeting between stitches and a toothbrush I ended up writting this under acompanied by the light-headedness only hydrocodone could provide =P
Chapter five
“Ugh, what the hell do you want?” Dylan muttered sleepily as he opened his door.
“Someone I know would like to have a few words with you”
Still drowsy, Dylan only saw a large black object bobbing in front of his head. The blinding light behind it prevented him from discerning anything more. As his vision returned he realized it was a gun, and not just any gun, this thing was a cannon. The barrel of it was easily two inches in diameter and before he could respond the man wielding this illegal weapon slammed it into his face, crushing the bridge of his nose. Everything went bright white, before turning black.
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Whats we doin’ down ‘ere boss?”
“All I know is some rich prick from Bretonia is offering us good money for this idiot” the smaller one replied, “turns out he was so hard to find ‘cus he lives in this s** hole”
They were bounty hunters, the kind a person would hire to do the jobs that couldn’t be posted on job-boards. They were both unkempt and lacked any sort of formal training, but made up for it in shear brute strength and heartlessness. They both looked like the kind of guys you wouldn’t want to mess with; dirty, long mangy hair, strong build, and they wore the typical outlaw “don’t mess with me” outfits; Military boots, urban camouflage, and dirty worn trench coats, finishing the look with large, obviously illegal handguns strapped to their thighs. Even the people who inhabited this place knew to keep out of their way. These kinds of guys usually carried far more weaponry than what met the eyes, and they knew no one would care if they used them; at least no one who could do anything about it.
Jake and his friend, known simply as Ox had been doing this for a while. They had a certain reputation among the criminal factions of being excessively brutal and not scared of anyone. They would take any job if the pay was right, no matter whom or what the target was. These men were considered butchers, and always used straightforward and destructive methods to achieve their goals. There are rumors in the underground bars that someone had paid them to kill their families, just to see if they would do it. Out of the multiple versions that circulate through these bars, the most common one says that they not only brought back the heads of all their family members, but all of their employer’s family as well.
The men trudged through the filth towards one of the exits. Jake smirked as the people cowered as they walked past. He loved the power he had over these forgotten people, these worthless piles of filth.
“Please sir could you spare some credits for a hungry old fool.”
Jake stopped and turned towards the elderly man. Weak and covered in boils, it surprised him the man was even alive.
“You look like you’re in pain.” Jake snarled, a hint of false compassion in his voice.
“Yes, yes I am,” he replied in his raspy voice coughing so hard his entire body convulsed.
“Let me help you with that,” the mercenary grinned before slamming the steel toe of his boot through the man’s skull, gore splattering all over the crumbling promenade. He spat on the old mans body and chuckled before walking off. Ox following him with Dylan over his shoulder, his chuckling could be heard until they were both out of sight. As they rounded a corner other beggars emerged from the piles of trash. It wasn’t long before they were fighting over the fresh meat the newly deceased man provided.
“God I hate going into that place,” Jake muttered as they arrived at their ships. “They always stink, any their always asking for stuff. I wonder if anyone would care if we just torched the place.”
“Huh, doubt it boss, dem people aint werf duh chemicals dey breave in.”
Ox was not very smart. He was an oaf, a henchman, just short of a human battering ram. Close to seven feet tall his neckless figure cast a shadow over most people unfortunate enough to stand in front of him. Resembling an ape or gorilla more than a man, no one knew where Jake had found him, or what his real name was. His lack of intelligence made him a surprisingly good pilot though. His build could handle extreme g-forces that would cause most pilots to black out, or at least cause their vision to narrow. And while he wasn’t much of a tactician, his “shoot first, ask no questions” attitude along with Jake’s superior flight skills made them a deadly duo in space.
“Shame the inferno would probably weaken the supports and foundations of the city above. We have too many good paying customers, and potential victims to rationalize that kind of destruction,” Jake thought out loud. “And anyway, we don’t need to draw that much attention to ourselves.”
“Whuh?”
“We can’t kill them all, Ox.” He replied, slowly, albeit frustrated, so his partner would understand.
“Oh…” the oaf replied, obviously disappointed, his shoulders slumping. For a second Jake thought he might have seen a hint of a neck on his thickheaded companion. He chuckled quietly, “God I love this stupid bastard” he thought to himself.
Finally they emerged into one of the large sewage tunnels. And headed towards their ships. The two mercenaries flew Falcons, painted a dark crimson, a blood red bird of prey adorning ships, covering almost the entire top, the details highlighted in black and various dark shades of gray. The impressive decoration was finished with a finely painted black beak, talons, and fiery eyes. These ships were easily recognized, but only the bravest or most naïve law enforcement agents would ever confront these war birds. Bristling with strangely powerful weaponry. Those who had witnessed the ships in action could attest that the paint job wasn’t the only thing that made these ships different from the stock civilian craft.
Ox threw the still unconscious man into Jake’s hold. He grinned as he heard the distinctive sound of snapping bones as the man hit the steel floor.
“Don’t be too rough with the little s*** Ox, he’s no good to us dead.”
“Sorry boss,” he replied, looking at the ground.
“Its ok, just get in and set your ship’s autopilot to follow the path we took down here”
“Righ’ boss, I’ll do it righ’ away.”
The ship rocked violently as the large man clambered aboard, struggling to get his large mass into the cockpit. Jake looked around the tube and smiled. The tubes were filling with methane gas; he could smell it. The temporary blockages they had put in the pipes for a mile in either direction had prevented it from venting out into the atmosphere; it would all go up in a fireball as soon as they activated their engines. He climbed into his ship and shut the canopy. Ox had worked for him for years; the dumb oaf wouldn’t even realize his engines would ignite the fumes. Jake didn’t want to get cremated by his partner firing up his ship, similar lapses in judgment in his past had almost taken his life, and he wasn’t going to make those mistakes again. This little act wasn’t part of their contract, Jake just wanted to have a little fun and make sure no one could follow them. It wouldn’t cause any major damage to the structural integrity, it wouldn’t be hot enough; just enough to barbeque a few of these bastards and cover up their trail.
“Ok Ox, it’s going to get a little… hot in here, just activate your auto pilot and you’ll be fine.” Jake grinned as he heard his friend chuckle.
A fireball rocketed down the sewage pipes and into any subsidiary pipes as it consumed the flammable gas. Jake had set the speed of their ships to keep up with the fireball and they raced down the sewage pipes, only the onboard autopilot systems stopping the large fighters from slamming into the steal and concrete surrounding them. Jake’s shields lighting up combined with the vicious firestorm erupting around him almost rendered him blind. He heard Ox’s grunts and roars of discomfort through the communication systems, barely audible over the roar of his own ship and the holocaust around him. It was obvious he was experiencing similar effects
Suddenly everything went dark. Both men saw multiple white spots as they continued flying down the pitch-black pipes. As his vision returned to him Jake checked all vital systems of both ships, everything was fine. “Excellent” he thought, “within a few minutes we’ll join the traffic heading towards the docking rings. In just a few jumps we’ll be in Bretonia, collecting another million credits and enjoying some of the finest food and drink New London has to offer.
“Its good to be two of the meanest assholes in the galaxy isn’t it Ox.”
“Yeah boss, real gud.” The grunt responded smugly.
The trip to New London was as uneventful as expected. And for once it was almost boring.
“Hey boss, when do we get ta blow somefink else up.”
“Patience my friend patience. Wait til we drop off our cargo at this uptight prick’s place and get a new mission. It shouldn’t be too long unless this git invites us for tea.”
“I don’t like tea.”
“I know you don’t you thick oaf” Jake retorted in frustration. “If he really pisses me off I’ll let you break his skull.”
“Huh huh, alrigh’ boss.”
The pilot brought up a screen on his HUD that displayed his cargo hold. He saw the broken man huddled in a ball in one of the corners, a trail of blood showed where he had dragged himself along from the spot he had landed in after Ox had tossed him in there like a rag doll.
“You still alive back there” Jake inquired.
“What do you want with me” Dylan responded, weakly.
“Me? Ha, I don’t want anything with you. Some rich bretonian prick is paying me far too much money to drag your measly carcass to him.”
“If he wants my carcass why didn’t you do me a favor and kill me?” Dylan replied, the pain he was in now obvious in his voice.
“Well perhaps you’ll forgive my poor choice of words. The git wants you alive, but unfortunately for you, he didn’t specify what condition. I’d apologize for Ox, he’s a little… heavy handed, but quite frankly, as long as I get paid I couldn’t give a rat’s ass what happens to you.”
With that he shut the communications off with the hold.
Not long after this conversation the two crimson fighters arrived in the New London system. A large fighter met them as they emerged from the jump gate and hailed them, “Mr. Hellmann?”
“Who wants to know?” Jake retorted viciously.
“I work for Mr. Williams”
“Oh, you’re one of the rich prick’s cronies eh?”
The man coughed, “…I guess you could say that. Follow me so we can make the exchange, but tell your wingman to get lost, one ship painted like that draws enough attention.”
“I don’t like you talking about my friend like that” Jake snarled, “He goes where I go.”
“Fine,” the man replied, reluctantly, “just follow me.”
edited because i cant spell
Edited by - [GR_Fallen_Angel on 7/25/2005 6:47:33 PM