BY THE DUST OF 'EM ALL 16

16:  FLESH AND IRON

  Five Shotguns. Five lasrifles. Five Autoguns. Two heavy bolters. One plasma rifle. Two bolt guns. Six laspitols. Four autopistols. Five stub guns. Two flamers. One melta gun. Three chainswords and about two dozen assorted grenades. This what decades of hoarding creds had got Hex. He could arm a small platoon of PDF soldiers. Instead he was arming a bunch of old gang war dogs. They still needed to pay the new blood that they would need. Nowadays gangers didn’t join for pride and gang turf, they only cared about the creds. Even the Orlocks living in Dead Mans Hole would be wary of joining a gang that has been outlawed for years. The price of flesh and iron was worth it though. Revenge was always worth it.

  So many men that Hex had called brother were no longer with them. Too many. They had been gunned down fighting with or running from, the Arbitrators’ Enforcer squads. Many died at the now infamous “Battle at the Crag”. The final showdown between the outlawed gangs of the Underhive versus Helmwars forces; a force of Necromundan PDF troops, Adeptus Arbites, Watchmen gangs and even an Inquistor and his retinue. The battle may have ended with Jester fighting Arbitrator Rodrigo at the edge of the Crag, but, that’s not how the war started or how it was going to end.

  If Hex was worried about the days and weeks to come, he didn’t show it. Logan was now a few days sober and he was thinking clear again. They had found old man Blazer working a slime rig by day. He was more than happy to don his old gang colors.  Axle and Alex, the twins, had been found by Logan. Hex sought out Stone for days, but once they found him, the mean old bastard was never far from Hexs’ side.

  In the passing days The reformed Iron Fists gang had recruited ten new gangers and two heavies. Hex was surprised by how they had sought him out once word had spread about their return. The veteran gang members had turned away all juves. This was no time to be green. This isn’t a back alley gang fight. This is warfare. Last man standing. Last chance to set the record straight once and for all.

Hex and Logan had decided that they were going to gear up the gang. They knew a Precint house was not too far from Dead Mans and that was the best place to start getting even. The pair of Orlocks decided to meet up Brassers for a good luck drink when they saw Colt running towards them. Logan waved to him and raised his fist, just as Colt hit lost his balance and slammed into the dusty, broken asphalt. They sprinted over to him as others in the community began to form a crowd. He was holding his stomach. His hand sopping with blood.

Hex sat him partially up. Shaking his head, he could tell his old friend had lost too much blood.

“I made it.” Colt said, gritting his teeth and trying to smile despite the pain.

“Those bastards got a lucky shit, but I outsmarted them. Made my way back through the air duct system. Dino…Dino’s gone. I don’t know what happened to Dax either..but..but..we have to be ready brothers. They’re coming.”

Hex bit his tongue. Another brother was dying before his eyes, in his arms, again.

“Who’s coming Colt?” Logan begged.

His breathing was ragged. The fall had knocked the wind from him.

“I don’t know who they are. Thought it was Van Saars but they got more tek than I ever seen. They have to be working with the Dealques. You need to get the hell outta here. Find Dax….finish this. Don’t let these gits come to our town and burn it down. Not after all we been through. It’s all we got. I stuck it to em before I came home though ha ! What good is all that cybernetic crap if it can’t stop a grenade….”

Colt’s body went into seizure and he blacked out. Hex did his best to hold his friend until the shaking stopped. His eyes rolled open and his last breathe left his body. Logan turned away in disbelief.

Hex nodded to his friend. And put his fist to his heart.

“Grab his legs Logan, were taking him home.”

*

  The Stranger was in deep shit. He had been in the thickest of the thick, but this was all bad. Alone in the dark, surrounded by countless walking corpses and what appeared to be a rampaging underhive beast. He was also out of ammo and the constant Hive quakes seemed this whole dome was about to come down on top of him.

  He was having hard time staying focused with all the groaning and the wailing of the beast. He still couldn’t make it out and he was sure he didn’t want to fully know what it was. It appeared to be indifferent to the zombies though, as it barged through them to get at him. Twice it had charged and rammed the small shack he was standing on. Knocking him off and into the horde. Twice he fought his back to another roof and managed to avoid the beast. From what he could tell though, the creature seemed to be a filthy hybrid of the giant rats that plagued the Underhive and some other reptilian thing. Only the Sump could have produced such a damnable thing.

The Stranger’s body was aching and he was tired. The cat and mouse game had gotten old, real fast. He drew his his long blade that was fixed to his thigh and decided to put his faith in his steel rather than wait it out an longer. He took a running leap and rolled into a half dozen rotten souls, smashing them to the broken pavement. He beheaded the first one that was within arm’s reach. Kicked another in the chest and began clearing a small hole for himself to make a run for it.

  The beast roared and charged as the Stranger fought his way through the crowd, heading in the direction of the vent stack. It was his only hope. He didn’t even bother looking back. He ran with all the remaining strength he could muster and still it wasn’t fast enough. The beast closed in on him, Dax could feel its body heat, the stink of its breath and its hot spit on his back.

  The Stranger turned and dropped on his back, holding his blade with both hands he thrust upwards, using the beasts momentum to carve itself a new chest cavity. The beast cried out as its bloated flesh was ripped open and it’s innards spewed out onto Dax and the ground like a giant ball of puss. Dax was knocked into the vent stack bulkhead as the beast’s body smacked into him at crushing speed. His vision spun and his head rang from the force of impact. He was covered in guts from head to toe but he was alive. Staggering up and heading for the vent entrance he looked back.

He couldn’t make out the person in the dark watching him, but Dax knew he was there. He could feel live eyes in the sea of dead ones. He stood for a moment defiant as ever, gesturing with his middle finger his feeling on the situation. Just as he entered the vent stack another Hive quake began. This time it was three times as powerful as the previous. Support beams directly above came crashing down and the rockcrete above came cascading down.

Whoever was tracking him was going to have a hard time crossing the avenue that was  now chocked with debris and the hungry dead. Still he wondered who it was and if they were this good, could they track his movements through the massive network of ventilation access tunnels?

He didn't wait to find out. He limped as fast as he could, heading for Dead Mans Hole.

BY THE DUST OF 'EM ALL 15

CHAPTER 15 :  CROSSROADS

  Hive City. The crowded, roaring intensity of the people and their commerce was nothing short of amazing too those who only new life above in the shimmering Spire, or below in the depths of the Underhive. Millions toiled to scrape a living for their House. Industry and honor was the name of the game here. Anonymity seemed to suit the general population just fine , most never leaving, and those that do- rarely if ever, return. It is a hard life by most Imperial standards, but far more “decent” one than most live out in the Badzones and Ash Wastes.

 Grimskull and Nadine were fortunate enough to make their way towards the stronghold of House Goliath without any incident. They had lost their stalker in the chaos that was the Hive city itself, for now it seemed. Grimskull had known he would be safe in the domain of his people. To cross the lines of a House without being welcomed meant imprisonment or worse. He held council with two aging Goliath diplomats. Doing his best to ease their minds of the rumors they had heard about him, and his hired Orlock gunman. Nadine said nothing. She listened to their conversation and took note of their names for her own purposes and had sent for a messenger servo-skull to find any information about an Orlock named “ Ren” , to see if he had entered Hive City.

Hours seemed to pass as Grimskull sspoke with the old men and the servo-skull had no luck in his mission. Nadine cracked her knuckles, wondering how she was going to find him and Dax.

Grimskull knew to have the blessing of the House was gravely needed if he was to continue on with his plans, of which he told half-truths to the old men. Never the less, he was here for good reason, as he needed his House to know that House Vega spies were lurking from the Spire to Hive Bottom. Grimskull having made his fortunes in the Underhive was respected enough by the elders that he was granted a large sum of credits to finance the next part of plan. Nadine was shocked when Grimskull told her just how much creds it was.

 That’s enough to buy a fraggin’ ship!” she whispered to Grimskull once the diplomats had left.

GrimSkull smiled and stood. “Aye darlin’, it is. Think of many gangers and mercs I can get. Think of all the armor and weapons I will have. The Destroyers will be back in business and with new blood to back it up. Fortify Slagville and reclaim much of the North Badzones. Not just that but we gonna be damn well ready when them half cyborg freak Vegas come prowlin’ and gunnin’ for us.” He stated matter of factly.

She was beginning to wonder just what the old brute had in mind now, as this was the first time she had heard him speak of such things. She walked beside the grinning old gang leader, as they made their way out of Goliath territory and headed for the transit tunnels. So many families and workers going Emperor knows where, though she knew that many would be going down hive to make a new life. Boarding a freighter they sat in silence as the ancient magnetic rails shipped them down and down, into the underbelly of Hive Primus. The last stop was in fact, the gigantic ramps that would lead them to the very floor of Necromunda. Massive tunnels led to the outside and its’ numerous shanty towns and the Ash Wastes itself.

 The tunnels they sought though; those went further down and was not safe by any standards. Yet Grim knew his way, as did Nadine. They kept their pace as normal as could be. Keeping ones calm while entering the Underhive is a matter of life and death. Trying still to blend in with the loose herd of wandering families and ragged looking prospectors, they found the service lift they needed. It would take them to the area known as Blood Alley; a small dome filled with demolished buildings, so oxidized that the whole place seemed to glow red. Before Grimskull was even born it had been the sight of a massacre between two gangs and a wyrd, and the dome just rotted away after that. It was but a mere two hour ride before they would set foot into that dusky rust bowl. Grimskull did not seem worried at all and the fact no one else had ridden with them was even better. Nadine bit her lip in effort to not crack a smile. She was happy to be going back-back to find Dax.

***

 The Stranger hated to admit it. He was lost. He thought for sure he would have been near the Echo at least. Somehow he knew he wasn’t and he was not sure where he was. It seemed he took a wrong turn or two after passing Gutter Wells. Rather than double back for fear of running into more potential hit men, he pressed on. He could be anywhere really. The Underhive was a massive honeycomb of tunnels and domes that stretched on for kilometers in all directions. For all he knew he was somewhere on the outskirts of the Sprawls or the Blue Corner. He cursed himself for not knowing exactly where he was.

 He marched down long winding passages for what seemed like hours. Flashing his blue light down the corridor he could vaguely make out what appeared to be a fenced off access point. Bolting towards it, boots kicking up dust and crushing the massive roaches along the path, he was anxious to discover where it led to. Time was running short and he needed the quickest route to Dead Mans’ Hole. House Vega assassins were on the hunt and who knows how many more Delaque gangs he could run into. Tearing back the wire mesh fence and squeezing into the blocked doorway, he made his way inside. The overhead tube lighting flickered sporadically and even when it did, the glow it gave was dim at best. The air was cold and it stank of rotten food. Probably scavvies had lived here not too long ago. Deeper and deeper he ventured into what now appeared to be a hab dome, though it was so quiet and dark, he doubted anyone had lived here now. It was a settlement nevertheless an so Dax made his way to the nearest structure,and scaled it to get a better view of the area.

Letting the smoke roll out from his lips he scanned the dome. The majority of it was covered in darkness. Only the main drag and a few side streets and alleys were lit by the fading glow lamps. He knew one thing, if there was a way in there had to be a way out.

He made for the avenue hoping we would see a sign post or some other identifier to let him know where he was. Hab after hab, not a sign. Just boarded up windows and doors. The place had been abandoned for ages it seemed. Here and there he found ammo casings, rag dolls, boots and scraps of clothing. Reaching the center of the settlement he began to smell the stink again. It was not rotten food or refuse, no he seemed to recall the stench before, on the battlefield before….

The hairs on his neck stiffened and he drew his pistols. A cold sweat beaded on his forehead but he was calm. He moved slowly towards the fallen aquila made of stone laying broken on the ground. His eyes darted back and forth, he spun aiming his pistols, taking severe precaution. Kneeling down he wiped away the ash on the aquila and read the letters engraved in its center.

“Lost Hope.” Dax whispered.

“Shit.” He said as he realized he made a grave mistake and knew that he had definitely smelled the reek of rotting corpses.

He dared not break into a run, as panic is usually what ends him in a den of ghouls like Lost Hope. It had been quarantined for nearly seven decades, yet somehow here he was- dead center in zombie town.

He moved swiftly through the lit alleys and streets, hoping to make his way back the way he came. The bastards were already swarming in, no doubt they had heard his boots or caught the scent of his warm blood. Their moaning cries and gnashing teeth echoed in the empty dome. Their dragging feet, and gurgling stomachs was a chorus of nausea. It was enough to make even the most vile ganger cringe. Not the Stranger though, oh no. He had seen war. War against things he wanted to forget. Still, he needed to be alert otherwise suffer the same fate as these poor souls.

 “Emperors’ Eyes’!” Dax cursed more than prayed.

 He was blocked in. Both ends of the street had flooded with the undead. No less than three dozen cramming together, hands out stretched and jaws snapping.

He unloaded on a few, making sure they were headshots, and scrambled up to high ground again. Looking out beyond the few hab units, he realized he was surrounded, and he knew his power packs were not enough to shoot his way out. The zombie horde was now a hundred or more and getting larger.

“Oh frag it” He mumbled, leaping off the shack he stood on to the nearest roof, decomposing hands lunging for him.

There were a dozen more roofs that the Stranger could see. He knew there had to be a blast door on the other side. He shot a few more zombies and vaulted, head over heels to the next roof. The horde seemed to be moving in unison each time he relocated. He figured it may take him some time to reach the end of the dome but so far none seemed to be climbing and his laspistols were at half power. Everything seemed to be going reasonable until he started to feel the dome tremble and the lights cut out.  The quaking continued for a brief time but the lights never came back on. He was now in the complete darkness, on a roof of some lean to in the middle of Lost Hope.

“Just my luck, guess it couldn’t get worse than this.” He shook his head firing into the zombies below.

 Shouting as vulgar as he could, he shot half a dozen before flashing his blue light, looking for the next roof. Not being able to see their hideous faces made it somewhat more disturbing, as the cacophony begin to gnaw at his mind. He fired again. And again.

“Come on you bastards! You won’t drag me down! Can’t get any worse than this,you fraggers!” He shouted.

 Jumping to the next roof he scanned the ground. More and more of the horde were lumbering about. He sneered and spit. He could see in the distance ahead, maybe less than a hundred yards, what appeared to be a massive ventilation duct, its cover still intact. Smiling he made a break for it but stopped cold in his tracks, as the dome shook violently again. The Stranger nearly slipped off the roof from the force of it. Standing up he nearly froze as he saw the beast. He couldn’t see it too clear, its talons scraping on the rockrete and its blind eyes looming up from just over the next roof. Its mighty roar so piercing he covered his ears and fell to his knees. Things were just about to get worse.

***

The Dark One knew something was not right tonight. The Hive Spirits were uneasy. It was the second quake this evening and the few holesteaders’ he encountered bid him stay away from the territory, as the cursed settlement of Lost Hope was near. He wondered; what type of a man, would this Orlock be? Would he have the balls and brains to survive hiding in the one place most men, would dare to look? One way to find out, and it was on the way to his next destination anyhow. He quickened his pace, hoping he would find his target; all the while the Hive vibrated from the quakes aftershocks.

  A mere days’ ride away from the shanty towns outside Hive Primus, a small caravan of vehicles raced through the wasteland. They were hoping to beat the storm that was on the horizon, find shelter amongst the low lying black stone hills that jutted out from the ash like obsidian towers.

“Journeymen” a voice through a broken vox said, its rebreather kicking on.

Another clicked on and a hooded figure stepped into the moonlight.

“Aye Yago, the pirates’ men told truth. Find Olaq, we shall be needing his missile launcher soon.”

The first man sped off through the black rock and the hooded man looked up into the sky. What stars he did see he prayed to. His blue eyes shone in the dark. He looked back towards the great Hive Primus and nodded to it.

“Soon.”  He said, disappearing into the black rock and ash.

BY THE DUST OF 'EM ALL 14

CHAPTER 14 : GHOSTS AND SACRIFICES

Dax and Ren nodded to King Ace and his crew. Cold air rushing past them kicked up the sump waves around their skiff, a dense fog enveloping them made for a grim goodbye. They raced back to Down Town in silence, Ren frowning all the way.

As they anchored on a corroded dock, Ren turned to the Stranger.

“ See you around then slick, it’s been fun. Try not to die.” He said, leaping off the skiff and disappearing into the fog.

Dax half smiled and popped the collar on his leather coat and buttoned it. What a bastard he thought to himself. He was going to be making the trip home alone.

A mere two hours had passed while the Stranger had ran through the alleys of Down Town and up service ladders and across scaffoldings to reach tunnel that would lead back Uphive. So many lifts were out of order and so many tunnels were blocked with rubble or barricades. Fraggin scavvies and hive quakes he reckoned. He continued walking down a corridor until it opened up into a series of connecting walkways that lead to several dome exits. Nearing a blast door he stopped to catch his breath and have a sip of water. He swore he heard someone whisper his name.

BLAM ! BLAM ! BLAM ! BLAM !

Shots rang out and tore into the wall behind his head. The Stranger rolled to his left and drew his laspistols, instinctively firing in a sweeping motion.

BLAM ! BLAM ! BLAM ! BLAM !

Four more shots hitting the railing he was using as cover.

“ Frag ! “ he hissed and ran towards the blast door again.

He knew whoever was shooting was using a heavy caliber rifle, and they were just toying with him. He stood and fired downward, hoping the flash of his guns discharging would identify his attacker.

BLAM ! BLAM ! BLAM !

Three more shots slammed into the blast door. One actually ripping a fist sized hole into the Strangers’ coat and disabled the keypad for the door. Not only was the scum sucker a good sniper, but, he was getting to close for comfort. Enough was enough he told himself, hurling himself over the railing guns blazing, free falling towards the hidden shooter.

The lazfire kept the sniper from aiming as the Stranger dropped right onto him. The impact nearly knocked them both out as the walkway groaned and swung downwards. They grappled with each other for supremacy- kicking and head butting as the walkway lurched again. Dax bucked his enemy off of him with a massive kick, the shooter barely managed to grab hold of a guardrail as his rifle slid away into the darkness below. The Stranger gave him a boot to the face, breaking his nose. He unhooked his razor chain and whipped the him until his clothing and flesh ripped off his body. He laid into him again and again until the shooter finally slumped from the pain. Dax pulled his knife and jumped on his back, ripping off the hood his attacker wore. His face was augmented with bionics and his eyes were opaque.

“ You’re dead no matter what you say. Just tell me who sent you and the way you leave this world will be swift. “ Dax whispered into his severed ear, pressing the blades’ edge into his throat.

His attacker wheezed through his rebreather until his voice box clicked on, his metallic words, cold and inhuman.

“ No swift death for you. House Vega shows no mercy.”

Dax scowled and ripped the bastard Vegas’ throat out from ear to ear and stomped his skull until he was unrecognizable.

He caught his breath, wondering how many encounters like this lay ahead on his journey home

* * *

The burnished lantern dangling from the ceiling cast a pale gloom from its dirty olive bulb. The rusting ring it swiveled from groaned as if it protested against illuminating the cold dilapidated room. Dust swirled around the room as its occupant sat breathing slow and heavy. In his left hand was a lit cheroot, in his right he held six bullets. The bullets were polished to a fine sheen that even in the half dark they almost glowed. A large stub gun was laid on a makeshift table that may have once been a vent covering. Beside it was a bandolier belt, ammo inserted into it’s cracked leather. Muddy, battered boots stood upright near the occupants’ feet, the steel caps from its toe almost showing.

Satisfied to some degree the shadowy figure stood, exhaling his smoke and began dressing himself. Faded black shirt covered his scarred and tattooed body. Ripped factory worker trousers were held up by a thin leather belt. Turning to a small wall pocket he carefully slid into a ragged denim vest adorned with metal studs and emblazoned with faded logo. He sat for a moment, dragging the smoke into his lungs and pulled on his boots. Silently he opened a small tin and unfolded a gray headband. He smiled at the cross and fist stitched into it. He tightened it around his forehead and turned out the light.

The cold air and constant hum of generators and power converters greeted him as he stepped out from his shack. Without a pause he began marching down the alleyway that was his home and headed for the main drag of Dead Mans Hole. He passed by several juves and a few haggard women as he walked down the avenue –head high with his war face on.

Nearing the notorious Brasser’s bar, a familiar voice called his name.

“ Helmawrs fraggin balls ! Hex ? ! ? “ the voice said drunkenly.

“ Yes. Logan you’re drunk again aren’t you? “ Hex asked bluntly.

Logan just starred at his old friend in disbelief. “ I wasn’t sure if I was seeing a ghost or the Wild Snake got the best of me. “ he answered in a serious tone. He made a fist and raised it to Hex, who also did likewise.

“ Sober up and meet me by the old club house. I got some people to find and guns to buy. “ Hex said snatching the bottle Logan held.

* * *

The once popular and powerful Guilder known as David Faustos sat reading a data slate of his holdings, credits and properties. He had been making arrangements for all his assets to be safely placed under the control of his daughter. A daughter that hated him, but daughter that would avenge him nonetheless.

He was well into his eighty first year and yet he felt so much younger than that. His hairline had hardly receded and he was fit as he had ever been. Despite this, he was old and lacked any real power he once had. The only thing he had left was his reputation and that – yes, that was enough for him to still sway so many minds and ears.

He laughed inward at that notion. He had not been involved in the trade business for nearly two decades, but still the gangs, prospectors and House reps visited him daily for counsel. His recent partnership with the King of Down Town and his dealings with the Nomads finally drew to much attention. He could no longer control the avalanche of violence that was sure to hit.

He knew his worth in the scheme of things and realized that death at any one else’s hands but his own would only end more pointless bloodshed.

He closed the data slate just as a servitor entered his chambers. Unsheathing a thin dagger he slit both his wrists downwards, the blood flowing down his hands onto the diamond plate floor.

“ Please inform the local watchmen that I am ill and in need of assistance. Go now. “ He ordered the servitor.

It left without question.

David took one long last breath and closed his eyes.

BY THE DUST OF 'EM ALL 13

CHAPTER 13 : ANOTHER DAY IN HELL

Dax woke to the smell of a burning cigar. The smell was awful and he tried to open his eyes and stand but realized he was chained to the bed.

“ Ah frag “ he muttered. His head still swaying with the possibly the worst hangover he ever had.

“ Just relax boyo. I ain’t gonna hurt ya. Just restraining you until I get plenty of the right answers.” The smoker said.

Dax squinted in the half gloom trying to focus on the man talking.

“ Where is Ren? “ Dax asked, trying to wrestle with the chains and began coughing up blood.

“ Alive. You better relax, otherwise the toxins will kick in and melt your insides.” He warned , taking a long drag and blowing the smoke at Dax.

“ Tell me….are you really the brother of Jester ? Or were you playing everyone around you for fools so you can make some easy creds? Tell me…..how did you meet my brother and why are you lot here now? “

Dax managed a half smile. “ I don’t need to lie about anything. You knew my brother and you know Grimskull. You brother is working for him to keep me from killing Rodrigo or at least that’s what I think. “

King Ace stood and walked around the tiny room. Smoking and thinking.

“ Kill the Arbitrator eh. Vengeance for the loss of yer bruv. Sounds simple to me lad. Thing is…I don’t think you or my shite head brother know what’s going on down here or outside the walls. Do you? “

Ace said, slamming his boot near the headrest of Dax’s bed.

Dax shook his head blinked and was at loss for words.

“ Every Orlock from Coffin Heights to the shores of Down Town is proclaiming you a hero. “The Stranger” they call you – the right hand of death- going to right the wrongs of the past. What a joke. Your just Old Grimskull’s gunman. You have not the slightest clue what the old meatheads even up to. You see, without you ol’ Grim will have to do his own dirty work and the Guild will have his head right away. Grim wants to rule the Underhive like he did in the old days- ‘cept this time he wants the Orman out of the picture.” Ace looked into Dax’s eyes.

“ The Orman? “ he repeated, half confused half worried. Dax quickly recalled the name. Andre Orman. Frag.

“I have fought and bled for years to scratch out my kingdom down here and began doing so out in the waste lands as well. I have made many enemies and been outlawed so bad I could never pay it off. The Orman is worried I will unite the Ash Waste Tribes and destroy his business and sway over the Guild and the Houses. He knows that I have absorbed many of the down hive gangs under the Black Hearts banner. His spies are all around and I can’t help but wonder that my brother brought you here to kill me or to convince me to stop.”

He snarled at Dax and unsheathed a long serrated dagger. He ran it under his chin and nicked his skin gently until a small amount of blood ran free.

“ I swear on my brothers grave I know nothing of your plans. All I know is that Grimskull wants me to stay away from Rodrigo and continue working for him. I have no intention to rally our brother Orlocks to help me. I just need my gang.” Dax said matter of factly.

“ I am an Orlock and I bow to no man- especially a fat Pike from Tianos Hive. I have fought on countless worlds and on numerous star ships- but Necromunda is my home. I grow tired of seeing our House kin pay in blood and cred to someone not even from our own Hive. I offer you a place alongside me Dax - I feel it in my soul, you will be a major part of the things to come and I want you on the right side. “

King Ace took out a key from inside his coat and let Dax free.

“ I understand what you want of me but I need to finish my own business with Rodrigo first. “ Dax sat up and reached out his closed fist to King Ace’s own. They hit fists and nodded to each other.

“ I’ll get you what you need boyo, just you be ready when I call for you.”

* * *

Auto gun fire peppered against the crumbling rockrete wall that Colt was crouching behind. He was positive there was at least three shooters but had no clue how large their posse was. No words were exchanged as he fired back. His lasgun shrieking as he shot wildly at his attackers.

Colt was only a dome away from Dead Mans Hole and he was pinned down. He wasn’t sure if he was tailed by some of the Shadows gangers or if it was someone else. All he knew was that he was alone in this fight and he needed to make it home in one piece. He had enough juice for another hour of lasgun use and then he would have to rely on his shotgun after that.

He rolled onto his knees and chanced a brief glance of the terrain in front of him, hoping to catch a glimpse of what he was up against. He peered over the rubble and scanned left to right very slowly. He wasn’t sure how many there were but he knew they had to be heavy into bionics. House Van Saar maybe? Retaliation for Creed Hex no doubt. If that was the case he did not want to be in prolonged gun battle with tekked out gangers.

They began shooting again. This time he definitely heard a plasma rifle discharge. It was time he made his move. Colt pulled two flash/bang grenades from his belt and lobbed them over in their direction and counted to four before he stood up and fired 4 shots in a row. The light blinded everything in the area for a few seconds and the explosion made his ears wail.

He sprinted to his left heading towards an old vent stack he remembered would take him home. All the while the gangers gave him chase. Bullets whipped by his head and bounced off the girders and metal railings as he fled to safety. He turned only once to fire his shotgun twice- scatter shot making them jump for cover or hit the deck.

It was then he realized they were not Van Saars. He wasn’t sure what they were, but they were heavily armed and looked almost half cyborg. He sealed the vent behind him using a melta charge and then ran as fast he could down the service tunnel. He had to get word back to his people that they were being hunted.

* * *

“ Tell me again Mr. Deevo. Where do you think the Stranger might be headed? “ The Dark One asked as he produced yet another scalpel from his tool roll.

The old journalist was a bloody mess and his breathing was heavy. Much of his face was lacerated beyond a simple skin job. His jaw was broken and then reset just so he could speak. He was not sure how long he had been tortured but he knew that he could no longer move his legs or his right arm.

He knew it didn’t matter what he said, he would probably die any way. He had so far given his interrogator anything of value other than the places the Stranger had already been. He was severely dehydrated so when he did speak the words came out short and muffled.

“ Down hive.” He managed to say.

The Dark One sliced into his eyelid, Rex’s blood squirting like a fountain. “ WHERE DOWN HIVE ! WHERE !” screaming into his face and digging the scalpel into his eye socket.

Rex whimpered and moaned in pain. His body was so exhausted he could not even thrash about. He just cried and repeated himself.

“ Down hive……down….all the way down…no where else to go…”

The Dark One pulled the blade from Rex’s eye and walked towards the hanging glow lamp. He placed the tools he had used to get his answers back into his roll.

Rex readied himself for the gunshot he knew was coming.

“ Thank you for your time Mr. Deevo. Pleasure was all mine. “ The Dark One turned out the lamp and Rex heard a door shut.

Rex started crying, not knowing where he was, slowly bleeding to death in the dark.

BY THE DUST OF 'EM ALL 12

CHAPTER 12: HAIL TO THE KING

The Stranger had fought alongside Ogryns before in his time served with the Guard, but Bo was unlike any Ogryn he had ever seen.
The massive creature had to weigh over 5 hundred pounds and he wore a hideous amount of sump spider jewels around his neck. His arms were heavily tattooed and scarred and he wore a giant spiked helmet also laced with jewels.

He looked very imposing sitting in his pontoon, a raft no bigger than a Chimera transport and the thing creaked and moaned under the creatures weight. He was busy trying to read it seemed, totally involved in what appeared to be a children’s pict book. He studied it intently, squinting his eyes, smiling and nodding his head. He finally noticed the two men and lowered his spectacles to the tip of his nose.

“ You must be Bo?” asked Ren

“ Aye, dat be me. Hop on suhs, won be long, dis way to da King”
Bo said, hoisting a rotted anchor onto the deck and fidgeting with the motor until it kicked to life and belched smoke. The pair lept on board and sat with their backs to the pitted railing.

Dax stared out at the sludge sea, detritus and strange creatures floated in and out of the small vessels wake. Ren began smoking a freshly rolled cheroot before tossing the match over the side.

“ Whats on your mind slick, your studying me like I’m some common mark. “ Ren exhaled the green smoke.

Dax crossed his arms , “ Are you really brothers with King Ace? “

Ren smirked and threw back his head laughing. “ Aye, that I am, same as you and ol’ Jester were ,born to the same Mum, only difference is that we both got different Da’s. “

Dax suddenly felt uneasy at the weight of that comment but pushed his paranoia aside for the moment and opted to show he was content with Ren’s answer.

“ Fair enough then. So we can trust him then?” Dax asked.

Both Bo and Ren gave him a befuddled look.

“ Trust ain’t exactly in a pirates word bank now is it mate? “

Bo nodded and began mumbling something about sump spider stew as a fleet of skiffs and hover craft came into sight flanking the largest sump barge Dax ever lay eyes on. He wondered how it got here it was so big.

“ This is it, the damn floating bucket of scrap is my brothers “castle” as he likes to call it- can’t live in the Spire so he brought a piece of the Spire to live with him- pompous bastard…..” Ren trailed off.

Within twenty yards of the skiffs spotlights came on and Bo cut the engine to a mere crawl. They let the pontoon trudge towards the flagship , dozens of guns trained on them if any act of aggression was shown.

As Bo steadied the ship a ladder was rolled down for the two men to climb.

“ K’ lad, just as before, you can’t trust a band of pirates- so be alert with your guns and your wits. You don’t declare a man insane and expect less from his or his lot. “

Dax nodded and began climbing the ladder when the were greeted by a bellowing roar of laughter.

“ Ahoy, Slick Ren you wife stealin’-dog shite eating- Spire dwelling- Guild loving-panty waist bastard ! “ the voice boomed and shook though the owner still hid in the shadow.

“ Aye little brother, it’s me. Still mad about ‘Tess eh? Don’t be- the whore ran off with some mad prospector. We’re comin’ up and if any of yer crew so much as thinks ill will I’ll paint your pretty ship with their blood and guts. Savvy ? “
Ren sneered.

“ Fair ‘nuff . Tell me though, who the frag is “ we” ? “ He yelled down.

“ Wife stealing? “ Dax asked as he hoisted himself over the side of the ship.

“ Long story slick, I’ll tell you one day.” Ren laughed.

Dax landed with a loud clang and stood straight up – face to face with the Underhive legend.

King Ace sized up the Stranger, not an ounce of emotion on his pock marked and scarred face. His black, deep set eyes looked past Dax and straight at Ren.

“ Who’s this mutt then? “ the King said dismissing Dax and forcing him out of the way with a nudge of his massive shoulders.

Ren raised his eyebrows and sighed. “ This here is one Dax Kelly, you remember his brother Jester- rest his bones- he's working for old Grimskull these days and I’m just making sure he gets were he needs to be. “

King Ace looked Dax over again. Gave him a quick nod.
“ Aye, he was a good bloke- helluva ‘slinger, good with words , tough as a ripper jack- true Orlock through and through- sorry for your loss mate.”

The King waved to two women standing behind Ren. They carried two jars of heavily fermented drink, the odor almost too much for Dax’s nose. They each were given flagons and were filled to the brim with the syrupy liquor.

“ A toast to good times gone and good times to follow ! “ The King proclaimed, “ Drink ! “
They all drained their cups in one gulp. The flavor biting their tongues at the very end., bitter sweet and had a punch that made amasec seem weak.

“ Good stuff eh brothers? One of the lads is half Ratty-Skin- makes it from the Spider-Venom and Sump knows what else ha-ha !!!”

Ren lifted his cup to his brother,“ Hail to the King then “

King Ace smacked his cup to Rens and they both drank.

Dax stood looking out over the Sump, not sure if he had made the best decision.


* * *

Across the wasteland and over crumbling hills that were once mountains , beneath the Spire though just above the Hive City known as Tianos , three men sit in silence awaiting for their master to arrive.
They sit in silence, the room is cold and blank.

The Tall Man bears a cog shaped tattoo over his right eye and his jet-black hair is thinning above his troubled brow. The Fat Man sitting to his right is wheezing through his breathing apparatus, his hand fidgeting with a small coin covered in rust. Left of the tall man sits the Dark One; arms crossed his chest heaves as he exhales his displeasure of waiting.

The main door finally opens with a hiss of its pressurized mechanisms and three men rise to greet their master. One by one they bow to him.
He claps twice and the room is now flooded with light. He nods to the three men and they sit as does he.

“ Illumination not only guides one to their path but can also blind one if it is too much to bear. “ The Master spoke, his voice strong and sure.

“ We have built our Empire on the back of shadows and ghosts. In the past this has worked well to our benefit. It would seem as though we have several obstacles in our way. Our relations with Noble Ran Lo have been tainted and our Delaque cousins have failed in their efforts.” He calmly stated.

The three men shared side stares as their Master began lighting a hash cigar.

“ We would be most profitable in ending this situation as soon as possible. The Guild Summit is less than three weeks away. I for one would like to enjoy my stay in Hive Primus without loosing any sleep over an aged Goliath and disgruntled Orlock drifter.”
The three men nodded in agreement. The Tall Man cleared his throat.

“ My Lord, let my agents handle this one. We already have a cell en route with a Journeymen Team riding with Guilder Lozrick Acosta. They should be nearing Primus by the next day-cycle. I also have a one of my best trackers tailing said Goliath. Let House Vega show its worth, it would be an honor.”

The Master stood and laid his palms flat on the table.

The Fat Man began speaking.
“ Suspicions rise daily in the wasteland. The Tribes are gathering. Old rivalries are being forgotten in the Underhive and still the Stranger runs from us. “

The Master furrowed his brow and squinted.
“ Hmm….very well. Do what you must with House Vega- you have my aid. This thorn in my side must be removed whatever the cost. I will inform the soldiers under my own House to continue their search for the Old Man. He needs to be taught a lesson. No one turncoats an Orman, much less House Pike. “

The Dark One raised his head.
“ What of this Stranger then, the Goliath’s gunmen?”

The Master smiled.

“ He’s evaded us at every turn. Find him. Torture him, break his soul and send his head to Lord Orlock as a warning. We rule the Hives- not Helmawr- and no one is beyond my vengeance. “

BY THE DUST OF 'EM ALL 11

CHAPTER 11 : DOWN TOWN MORNING

Only an Underhiver could possibly withstand the putrid stench that permeates every inch of the foul Hive Bottom. Gas masks, re-breathers and flugs did their best in filtering out the worst toxins in the air but still the pungent odor was a permanent reminder that you had in fact, reached the bottom. Down Town and the great Sump Lake, for most Hivers, was the last stop.

The Stranger had not laid eyes on the vast sea of nauseas liquid slime since his days as a ganger. From the looks of things, not much had changed. The settlement ran along the makeshift shoreline and ragged pier of corroded metals. Hundreds of buildings, ranging from hab blocks to booze taverns and everything in between, lay in dilapidation of varying degrees. The town stretched as far as he could see in the dim foggy light, but he knew that every single one of the buildings held a multitude of vices.

Scavvies, mutants, outlaws and the lowest of Guilders roamed the contorted streets and haphazard alleyways of Down Town together. No one cared much for the Laws of House and Hive here. For those on the run, few Bounty Hunters ever came this far to collect- less they be brave or stupid.

For being the vilest, murderous decrepit hell hole in all the hive-maybe all of Necromunda- Down Town was also the one of the most wealthiest places, rivaling the Spire, cred for cred. Black Market kingpins were celebrated heroes here and only the most ruthless and cold blooded men earned the title “ Gang Lord” here.

The Stranger and “Slick” Ren walked side by side, their boots splashing ooze and muddy water as they made their approach into town. Dax’s health was somewhat better and his wounds all but healed- thanks to a wandering Ratskin medicine man they happened upon in the maze of long twisting tunnels. His cold green eyes, glared at anyone who tried to hold his gaze and his swagger was steadfast and adamant.

The tarnished lamps and over hanging glow globes announced that the day cycle was about to begin, though how anyone knew the difference was beyond rational thought. The pair made their way toward the docks, ignoring the half dozen drunken and malicious looking gangers they passed every few yards. Nearing twenty minutes of walking, Ren put his arm across Dax’s chest and pointed across the main drag from where they stood.

“ Okay lad, this is the place.” Ren said spitting on the ground, nodding to the two-storey shack nestled between a suspicious looking eatery and a water reclamation plant that seethed gases and blueish smoke.

They walked across scanning the road from right to left, slowly stepping up onto the groaning porch.

Dax adjusted his pistols on his bandolier, unclasping the buttons for easier access and fastened his bandanna tighter around his forehead.

“ So Ren, whats the plan?” he asked taking a deep breath.

Ren half smiled in confusion of his question. He opened the door and motioned Dax inside.

“Plan mate? Hrr hrr. We go in a for a bit of drink and some grub…that’s the plan.”

* * *

Far uphive, in the cool avenues of the Spire, two friends walk in silence, well aware of being followed. Even zigzagging through the crowds of laughing and smiling inebriated socialites, they could not loose him. Passing a group of lofty nobles they took a chance and glanced to their rear.

“ Bastards’ sure is goog Grim.” Nadine muttered in disgust.

Playfully throwing her arms around the massive Goliath, hoping their pursuer may get disoriented by the sea of patrician youth engaging in foolishness.

Grunting he leaned in, “ Delaque?”

“ No, not sure…wearing far too much tek and helluva lot bigger.”

Grimskull’s lips curled, Nadine feeling his displeasure.

“ He’s a fuggin’ Vega then.”

He looked back again locking eyes with the stalker for brief moment. His face burning into Grimskulls memory.

“ The sooner we get to Hive City the better. From there we can get lost in the swarm of civilians.”

Nadine sighed heavily knowing that would derail her plans.

“ Grim, you promised you would help me find my father.”

She looked coldly into his eyes, determined to change his mind.

“ Sorry darlin’. I’ll send someone to fetch him. A Delaque tail is one thing but a House Vega agent is something else altogether.”

She kept her gaze, unyielding to his decision. He said nothing, instead he pushed her forward and hailed a servitor scrimshaw. He paid the 50 cred toll and looked back again.

{ DESTINATION} The inhuman metallic vox belted.

“ The Wall, and fast” Grimskull ordered.

Nadine turned her head away from the old gang lord and searched the crowd for their tracker again, annoyed that he had vanished in the midst.

The servitors wheeled legs speed the tiny transport down the boulevard, passing radiant shops and exotic bistros.

Nadine finally broke her silence.

“ If we are going back down hive Grim, we should at least try and contact Dax, please Grim…” She pleaded.

His face was as stern as the corded muscles on his tattooed neck.

“ Sorry, the boy made his choice. He wants to go warring against the Judges that’s his business. So be it I says to him last we spoke. I’m still doin’ my best to make sure the fool don’t go getting’ hiself killed.”

He patted her head, hoping that would comfort her.

She continued shaking her head side to side, obviously unsatisfied with him.

“ Listen, old Grims’ friends are everywhere Nadine, from the top of the Spire all they way to the bottom. Trust me, he will be fine and sure as hell he will come back, still have lots of work for the two of yous.” He howled, grinning a little.

She was not sure what to make of his comment, but relaxed anyways, letting the perfumed air cooled breeze of the Spire caress her face and hair, the aloof background noise of the Spire’s streets fade away as the servitor powered scrimshaw raced towards one of the many access ways leading to the Wall.

* * *

The raucous orchestra of electric organs, guitars and hyrdo-acordians, belted rowdy music through loud speakers inside what the Stranger found was called Drake’s Place. Three dozen miscreant gangers, two bit scummers and drunken losers filled the tavern, cavorting and shouting curses and praises.

Ren and Dax had been standing by the bar nearly ten minutes when a small group of rough looking men, heavily tattooed and full of bionics surrounded them. The tallest among them, a wiry grey bearded ganger, spat on the metal deck flooring where Ren stood. His face was pock marked and had a hair lip sneer displaying a mouth full of black and silver rotting teeth.

“ Fancy yer selves ‘slingers? Got some stones strollin’ in here, drinkin’ up the Wild Snake stock and tossin’ cred’s like it be nuthin’.”

He said, slowly drawing back his long coat and resting his palms on the butt of his pistols.

Ren didn’t bother looking at him and Dax knew well to follow suit. Finishing his drink, Ren sat the empty bottle on the counter and passed Dax a thin cheroot. The tall man’s eyes shifted side to side, his veins pulsing in his forehead.

“ Tis all the same to you mate, “ Ren began,” I ain’t here looking to bury you or your ugly crew. Be a good lad and fetch a gent another bottle though, eh slick?”

He still had not turn to face the tall man, lighting up his cheroot and inhaling deeply he passed the still lit match to Dax. Even through the tumultuous cursing and laughing Dax could hear the tall mans’ throat growl. He held back his crew with a wave of his hand, all ready to pounce on The Stranger and Ren.

“ Ah, ‘nother green hiver come ta make a name in Down Town eh?” The tall man snapped and stepped in closer to the pair.

“ Welly well then! Guess I should introduce myself to you two soon to be corpses then eh? Seeing as how your rotting carcass’s will be floating in the Sump and….”

Ren cut him off, about facing at a blinding speed and drawing his bolt pistols, aiming directly at the tall mans chest.

“ Dead men have no need for names sump rat!” Ren bellowed in the tall mans face, unloading a hail of bolts into his body. The tall man was nearly cut in half, gore and bone splinters shattering out of his back as he was knocked to the ground, a bloody pool enveloping his gangs boots.

Guns still smoking, Ren leaned back against the bar. Placing one of his pistols on the counter he began finishing his cheroot. Dax looked at every man in the tall mans crew. They stood dumbfounded, unsure of what to do.

“ Best be off now lads, lest you wish a similar fate like slick there.” Ren said, letting the smoke slowly ease out his nostrils.

The leaderless crew begrudgingly dragged what was left of the tall man out of Drake’s front door.

Dax finally grabbed a bar stool and sat down, amused and impressed by Ren’s resolve.

“ Bar keep!” Ren shouted.

A leathery faced woman with crisscrossing facial scars turned to Ren and gave him a feint smile as she recognized him.

“ Do me a favor love? Send a runner to let that prissy bastard King Ace know his brother’s down in this shite hole looking for him.”

Ren ordered more than asked but tossed her a few creds in case.

She grunted under her breath and in a few moments and some yelling a drunken Rat Skin trudged out of the saloon.

Ren waved the bar keep over once again.

“ Say love, how’s old Drake holding up these days?” He asked playfully stroking her weathered hands.

She scoffed at him. But let him continue his mild flirtation.

“ Slaver’s came through one night months ago, dumb bastard crossed the Guild, you know how it is down here.”

Ren looked genuinely let down. He remembered Drake as a honest and tough man.

“ Damn shame then. I’ll drink to his memory then. Bottle of your house best love and give the boyo next to me whatever he wants eh?” Ren cocked his head towards Dax and slid the bar mistress a gold cred piece.

She walked over slowly to Dax and leaned forwards, exposing old gang tattoos on her well rounded breasts. Half smiling she looked into his cold green eyes.

“ What’ll have stranger?” She purred.

He did his best not laugh as her attempt at a sultry voice was poor due to the severe scar across her neck.

“ Amasec if you got it…and leave the bottle.”

She brought it to him, gave him a wink and Ren raised his own bottle to Dax.

They sat drinking for nearly an hour and ate a few skewers of grilled lash worm. Dax lost count of the drunken patrons that had came and went. All manner of gangers and underhive warriors drank to the point of blacking out- and some did. Most left stumbling or were thrown out fighting amongst themselves.

The Rat Skin that was dispatched earlier had finally returned through a side entrance and passed a note to the bar mistress. She gave him a bottle of Second Best and burnt the tiny leaflet as she trudged over.

“ Kay slick, there’s a pontoon waitin’ at the end of the docks just past Fat Sal’s bath house. Can’t miss it. The boat man’s a fat ogryn named Bo, he’ll take you to where you need to be.”

She gave Ren a kiss on the cheek and another bottle of Wild Snake for the road.

Ren kissed her hand and gave her a slight bow.

“ Many thanks, and sorry ‘bout the mess earlier. Damn Sump Pirates always give me a bit of trouble every bloody time I come down here.”

Ren smiled at her.

Dax nodded to her and followed Ren out of Drake’s, heading towards the end of the pier. It had been a strange morning so far, and he wondered just how much more strange it was going to get.