After the fight, Vints Courraine would tell himself that he'd made a difference when the Skymother's Chosen came gunning for Shallow Alley.
As it happened, Vints had sent Fat Davvo, the Jackers' resident slopper, to the needleway hub a few shifts earlier - his latest batch of slop hadn't helped Vints or Ivan get over the wounds they'd sustained in the scrap with the Hellhounds at Catch 22, but Davvo was convinced that he could stew up something better if he bagged one of the ultra-mutie rats that had been lurking around Shallow Alley since Norvegicus's attempted takeover. For safety, Vints sent Akilles, Griv and green juve Ferdi along too - just as well, as word came not long after that a posse of Skymother muties were headed that way.
Vints ordered the rest of the gang to haul boots and back up the boys, but was in no fit state to join them himself. He was stuck in Nu Bedlam with Ivan, wincing at the pain from his stitches and waiting for the crew to get back.
A shift ticked by, then another, and half another.
Finally, the Jackers returned, with wounded in tow.
The way juve Lorn Skarsky told it, it was a hell of a scrap. When they clocked that the Chosen were approaching, Akilles, Griv and Ferdi had ducked into the nearer needleways, leaving Davvo playing decoy. Davvo was surprisingly calm about this after the event - probably he was just glad he'd not blown himself up with the melta trap he'd clumsily set.
Davvo was no scrapper, said Lorn. No kidding, said Vints.
Motormouth Lorn carried on with his tale: the three Jackers had waited til the muties had entered the hub, then they emerged from the needles behind a heavy blast door, intending to get the drop on the muties' heavy guns and biggest brutes. Thing went sideways pretty fast, though - Ferdi bopped forward and opened the door and Akilles and Griv got some shots in, but the muties struck back fast, blasting Ferdi's guts out and setting the heavy boys on fire. They were trapped at the end of a tight corridor. Things looked bad.
Almost already, though, the rest of the Jackers were arriving at the Alley. Ijax and Dwice were first, getting stuck into a point-blank gunfight with a mean-looking mutie. But they shot worse than a blindsnake-blind juve, and the mean bastard rushed them and took them out, bloody though he was from Griv's gunfire.
The mutie boss mustered his boys to rush Akilles and Griv, but Tzig, Zam and Onzo arrived behind them, making for a major distraction. Onzo led the charge and got taken out, poor bastard, but Zammy charged forward, shreddershot blazing, laying the mutie boss and some fo his flunkies low. Sure, the mutie boss didn't bleed, but good old Zam brought major pain to the freak with the mining laser. Tzig hung back and fired frag grenades from a doorway - just maybe things were starting to look spirewards…
Vints interrupted Lorn here, pointing out how bloodied the returning crew had been.
Lorn grinned and shrugged. Sure, the muties charged Zammy and cut him up real bad, and sure Tzig went down not long after, but over the way things weren't looking so grievous. Griv wasn't on fire no more, and was bringing the shotgun pain to one of the big brute muties, who bled out not long after. And Darik and Lorn himself had been hot on the heels of Ijax and Dwice - hot was the word alright, as Darik flamed the bloody mutie who'd caused so much trouble. No more trouble from him.
Lorn puffed up his chest as he told Vints how he'd snuck up on another of the Chosen's big hitters and knifed him out of the fight. Griv was coming to back him up, and even Akilles was back in the fight, having put of the flames and reloaded his big stubber. By now, the muties weren't looking so clever - some of them were legging it out of the alley. Before long, even their leader was out of there, and the last dregs of the gang fled not long after.
The Hi Viz Jackers had held Shallow Alley again. What's more, Fat Davvo had caught a brace of juicy, bloated rats. There'd be good slop served in Nu Bedlam this shift.
Vints should have been happy about all this, but it was bugging him that he'd heard it all from this gobby juve Lorn. Not from Griv, not from Darik, not even from wounded Dwice. Sumpdammit, and Akilles had gone over Vints's head and made the call about the doc's fees - Zam was getting patched up, but Ferdi was a goner.
He could hear them now, yukking it up outside the habhole, cocksure in their victory. Griv and Darik and that snake Tzig ragging Akilles about getting burnt up again, which even got a laugh from the dour heavy-stubber man.
Vints seethed. He was losing his grip on the gang. Losing his grip all round, spiked by a ratmutie chainglaive and blasted by Hellhound plasma. Well, to the Wrong Gods with them. They wouldn't have beaten the Chosen if he hadn't sent them to bodyguard Davvo.
He'd show them all, one way or another. He'd give them a reason to respect the name of Vintsen Courraine if was the last thing he did.