Dwice Necrofago was
spiretop clear on the plan. The Jackers needed creds, and creds the
Righteous Brotherhood of the Crimson Carrion had, stashed away in a
set of crates in a remote, crumbling dome stuffed with leaky
mechworks.
With half the Hi-Viz
boys recovering from the brutal scrap with the Hellhounds, there
wasn't much that could be left to chance. Dwice got a feeling that
the caper was going to run sumpwards almost as soon as they hit the
dome – the loot was guarded by more Carrion lads than they'd
expected.
But Vints had the crew
running double time, and Djo had already snuck ahead through a tunnel
grid they'd stumbled across. The job was on. No turning back.
Vints gestured that he
and Skew were going to make a run at the tall silo tower that
dominated the dome – there were bound to be thronebothering big
guns up there.
Dwice, Kaleb and new
guy Macks went dodging through the support struts of the network of
overhead walkways, aiming to track down the loot and, if they had a
clear shot, take down any Cawdor snipers up high. They'd barely run
ten paces when Macks called a halt.
'Boys, reckon I got a
decent go from here.' He'd ducked behind a support pillar and was
heaving his grenade launcher to bear.
'For real?' said Dwice,
nervily eyeing the walkway above their heads, where rough-clad
bootsteps clattered. 'That's mighty bold, man.'
'Yeah, but watch this!'
said Macks, pulling the trigger and sending a frag grenade arcing up
towards the silotop. It exploded with impressive power.
'Holy sumpsucking
frag!' said Kaleb. 'What're you packing, man?'
'Extra-kick fraggies I
got from some trader down the tech mart,' grinned Macks. 'Figured
it'd help me make my mark with you guys.'
'No kidding,' said
Dwice. 'You keep packing like that, we're gonna - '
But then the strutwork
around them came alive with ricochets and miniature explosions. Dwice
and Macks ducked for cover, but Kaleb caught a shot in the shoulder.
It blew his armour plate open and left a bloody rent in his flesh.
'Dammit, that's
bolterfire!' said Dwice. 'They got a heavy bolter on the silo!'
'Looks like all I did
was get their attention,' said Macks. 'Sorry, lads.'
There was a pause in
the shooting, and Kaleb's groans mixed with call-and-response
catechisms being shouted across the dome. Cawdor reinforcements had
arrived, and the Jackers were badly outnumbered.
Dwice and Macks did
their best to shoot at whatever Carrion boys they could see, but they
were pinned from three directions. Each of them took hits, but the
bullets sang off their armour.
Somewhere away down the
dome, they heard Djo roar in anger, then in pain. Guess his
inflitration run wasn't running smoothly.
Keeping his head down,
Dwice peered up at the silo. There was the heavy bolter guy up top,
with another skull-masked Cawdor scragger hefting a long rifle. But
there was a flash of hi-viz orange on the walkway below – Vints and
Skew had made it within striking distance of the Cawdor snipers.
Tough call – Carrion bossman Falco was on the same walkway a few
metres along.
Dwice figured Vints
needed some thinking time. 'Macks, pop another one of those mad frags
up top there,' he said.
Macks nodded and sent
another grenade sailing towards the top level of the silo. It
detonated with a ferocious roar, and as the smoke cleared, moans
could be heard.
Dwice saw Vints take
the cue – the Jacker boss scrambled up a ladder and onto the top
level, just out of sight. His chainsword roared, and the moans
stopped. But then Dwice saw Vints backing up, hands raised. A salvo
of barking shots rang out – the heavy bolter was still active –
and Vints tumbled from the towertop, bleeding badly.
Meanwhile, Skew had
evidently figured that Falco was a pressing threat. The Jacker had
advanced along the walkway and let rip with shreddershot from his
shotgun. But Falco dodged the worst of it and seconds later was
firing back with some mad ammo that set Skew on fire and out of the
fight.
Dwice shuddered. He'd
taken a bunch of flameshot himself in his time. Not a nice way to get
taken out of action.
He snapped
back to the moment. The heavy bolter creep was up on the edge of the
silo, giving Macks a clear shot which he didn't waste – another
powerful explosion, and the Cawdor dropped to the walkway below.
But Dwice could see the
heavy was still stirring, and the rest of the Crimson Carrion were
pressing in from the dome edges.
'How we doing, jacks?'
said Dwice.
Macks gave him a nod –
still locked and loaded – and Kaleb grimaced an affirmative,
wounded but still in the fight.
So the Jackers weren't
going to win the shift, but there was still a chance to grab some
loot and haul boots. Dwice knew there was a crate right above them on
the walkway.
He leapt over to a
ladder and scrambled up. As he reached the walkway, he clocked the
crate and the Cawdor mook standing beside it, back turned. In the din
of all the gunfire, he hadn't heard Dwice approach.
Drawing his autopistol,
Dwice smirked. No time to waste – he levelled the gun and squeezed
the trigger. But even as he did so, his foot slipped on an oilpatch
and he lurched to the side. The shot went wide.
Dwice was halfway
through remembering what his uncle Malky always said: if you're
gonna shoot someone, shoot 'em dead. But then the Carrion mook
turned and aimed his gun-stave.
Flames shot out and
engulfed Dwice. His world turned red and unbearably hot.
And that was the last
thing he ever knew.
Dwice Necrofago lived
fifteen long cycles before he died in the badzones of Sector H8. They'll hammer his name into the Book of Iron in Old Bedlam Town.