“This is a haemonculus lost in the ash wastes of Necromunda.” said the secret agent introducing himself. He was wearing a black desert robe and a strange pistol was in his hands. Holding a set of tinker’s tools and in his utility belt were artisans tools too, very fine and sharp.
“Where?” said the juve, a goliath gang member also lost out in the wastes. He had been a good ganger member but only for three months. He was large and dark skinned. The wastes were choking him a bit so he had a rebreather and a long rifle.
“Very good, just further down the hillock.” said wryly the drukhari haemonculus.
It was just the two of them, kneeling for stability. Heading down the dune was the rest of the juve, called Marlin’s gang. He was very tough for a young man and the haemonculus knew he was only there to keep an eye on this young hopeful. He pulled the hood of his robe up. For a time they watched the gang fight against the ash waste nomads. This hired gun’s old gang.
“I can’t see the disgusting thing.” said the juve firing wildy.
“Don’t waste ammuni-”
“Now I am out, frag, this is just rubbish.” said the juve, ash and tears in his eyes. His gang began to bottle.
“How come you do not need a mask, just that hood.” said the juve, turning to look the haemonculus in his dark eyes for the first time since they had met, five days ago by the Necromundan stars. The haemonculus shot him with his stinger pistol nine times in the head, throat and finished him with a shot to the heart.
“Don’t you feel foolish.” said Hollizter to himself.
After walking towards his gang for five kilometres, he arrived where they had huddled together.
“What happened to Marlin Spike? I am his father, what are you doing?” shouted the gang leader Vennak Spike. The wastes were spinning up.
“I think we should leave this bastard out here.” chimed in the two champions and grabbed the drukhari before he could even hit them with his tools or stab them. They chained him up and drove him out in their two-seater buggy into the ash wastes, an old ruin out in the distance was their destination.
“I see.” said the haemonculus as they unloaded him a few hours later. He had been in the ammunition crate at the back for the journey.
“You can keep your pistol but we do not need you.” said the first champion, holding his flamer.
“But give us back the tools, fragger.” said the other champion, renderizer at the ready. He revved it twice, he was the uncle of Marlin. He was furious.
“Let me check, there is something under the van I could fix if you give me one more chance.” he replied.
“No.”
“It could be better if we asked him.”
They looked at each other the two gangers as the haemonculus walked around the the front of the van buggy and flicked the switch on the afterburner. He then hit it twice with his tinkering ruler and kicked hard down in his boots, made for the ash wastes on the fuel gauge. The whole vehicle detonated.
The haemonclus dodged back, the explosion singing his face. The two champions of the Goliaths were knocked down and back, one fell very hard indeed. They were suddenly terrified. A whining noise could be heard in their ears. Not much else penetrated that din. The haemonclus had covered his head during his ignominious ride and put some old flechette ferocrete in his ears while he was bumping around on the journey.
Charging around the haemonclus at a sprint, smashed into the first Goliath who was down with his ruler tool. It hit the large man in the eye and shattered his teeth. The haemonclus felt anger swell up in him.
“This is the only way.” he said.
The flamer fell to one side and the haemonclus darted into the ruin. Getting up the last surviving champion roared and began to circle the ruin, an old warehouse from some old war. Spotting his shadow as the light faded, in ran the Goliath with furious charge thundering through his veins. This was a tanned and strong, very experienced veteran of the gang and having done his research before he joined, Holizter knew he was in for a fight.
Stinger pistol firing taking crack shots and with quick draw, holding his leadership steady. He said.
“Unleash your soul back to hell, boy.”
Just for a second the champion hesitated, thinking of Marlin and how he was long gone and dead and his friend too. Barely able to hear, he had to check to see if the two handed chain weapon was still on. Looking down, the goliath one shot to the head and another two to the chest, giving the large man a flesh wound.
Dropping the ruler, he kicked and struck in nomad gloves, old wraps, against the chin of the snarling champion. Four kicks and a sudden low punch in the gut felled the Goliath. The revving renderizer fell to the floor.
Walking out of the desert, he hoped the ash waste nomads would pick him up, if anyone could find him. Drawing his hood and robed mouth guard around him he headed out. Giant rats climbed slowly out the junk in the ruin to feed.
“Where?” said the juve, a goliath gang member also lost out in the wastes. He had been a good ganger member but only for three months. He was large and dark skinned. The wastes were choking him a bit so he had a rebreather and a long rifle.
“Very good, just further down the hillock.” said wryly the drukhari haemonculus.
It was just the two of them, kneeling for stability. Heading down the dune was the rest of the juve, called Marlin’s gang. He was very tough for a young man and the haemonculus knew he was only there to keep an eye on this young hopeful. He pulled the hood of his robe up. For a time they watched the gang fight against the ash waste nomads. This hired gun’s old gang.
“I can’t see the disgusting thing.” said the juve firing wildy.
“Don’t waste ammuni-”
“Now I am out, frag, this is just rubbish.” said the juve, ash and tears in his eyes. His gang began to bottle.
“How come you do not need a mask, just that hood.” said the juve, turning to look the haemonculus in his dark eyes for the first time since they had met, five days ago by the Necromundan stars. The haemonculus shot him with his stinger pistol nine times in the head, throat and finished him with a shot to the heart.
“Don’t you feel foolish.” said Hollizter to himself.
After walking towards his gang for five kilometres, he arrived where they had huddled together.
“What happened to Marlin Spike? I am his father, what are you doing?” shouted the gang leader Vennak Spike. The wastes were spinning up.
“I think we should leave this bastard out here.” chimed in the two champions and grabbed the drukhari before he could even hit them with his tools or stab them. They chained him up and drove him out in their two-seater buggy into the ash wastes, an old ruin out in the distance was their destination.
“I see.” said the haemonculus as they unloaded him a few hours later. He had been in the ammunition crate at the back for the journey.
“You can keep your pistol but we do not need you.” said the first champion, holding his flamer.
“But give us back the tools, fragger.” said the other champion, renderizer at the ready. He revved it twice, he was the uncle of Marlin. He was furious.
“Let me check, there is something under the van I could fix if you give me one more chance.” he replied.
“No.”
“It could be better if we asked him.”
They looked at each other the two gangers as the haemonculus walked around the the front of the van buggy and flicked the switch on the afterburner. He then hit it twice with his tinkering ruler and kicked hard down in his boots, made for the ash wastes on the fuel gauge. The whole vehicle detonated.
The haemonclus dodged back, the explosion singing his face. The two champions of the Goliaths were knocked down and back, one fell very hard indeed. They were suddenly terrified. A whining noise could be heard in their ears. Not much else penetrated that din. The haemonclus had covered his head during his ignominious ride and put some old flechette ferocrete in his ears while he was bumping around on the journey.
Charging around the haemonclus at a sprint, smashed into the first Goliath who was down with his ruler tool. It hit the large man in the eye and shattered his teeth. The haemonclus felt anger swell up in him.
“This is the only way.” he said.
The flamer fell to one side and the haemonclus darted into the ruin. Getting up the last surviving champion roared and began to circle the ruin, an old warehouse from some old war. Spotting his shadow as the light faded, in ran the Goliath with furious charge thundering through his veins. This was a tanned and strong, very experienced veteran of the gang and having done his research before he joined, Holizter knew he was in for a fight.
Stinger pistol firing taking crack shots and with quick draw, holding his leadership steady. He said.
“Unleash your soul back to hell, boy.”
Just for a second the champion hesitated, thinking of Marlin and how he was long gone and dead and his friend too. Barely able to hear, he had to check to see if the two handed chain weapon was still on. Looking down, the goliath one shot to the head and another two to the chest, giving the large man a flesh wound.
Dropping the ruler, he kicked and struck in nomad gloves, old wraps, against the chin of the snarling champion. Four kicks and a sudden low punch in the gut felled the Goliath. The revving renderizer fell to the floor.
Walking out of the desert, he hoped the ash waste nomads would pick him up, if anyone could find him. Drawing his hood and robed mouth guard around him he headed out. Giant rats climbed slowly out the junk in the ruin to feed.