You just stopped in at the Foulnest Working Hivers' Club for a quiet drink, but this glassy-eyed scummer is insisting on propping up the bar next to you, and by Helmawr's balls, he will not shut up.
'… And I hear old man
Gunn sprang a trap on Ray Void and his boys over at Dead Drop. Dead
Drop, you know – ah, you're new in the 'Nest, aren't you? So it's a
wee ways corewards, in the badzones. One of the big old rents running
though E-Sec top to bottom, scars from hivequakes and so on. Top of
Dead Drop is right up at the highest E-Sec levels, and that's maybe
the only way across, over some old bridges and through some old
stackhouses that cling to the dome roof like ash barnacles. Under
that, well, nothing, a thirty metre gap running down, down to...
well, best not to mind it much.
'Anyway, that
ladderways at the top is where Gunn's Guns, those mean-arse venators,
tried to ambush the Rustgate OMC, that Orlock crew, bad boys,
outlaws. Reckon Gunn was put up to it by the Guilds – Coiners and
Slavers wanting the tradeways kept open, you know.
'Gunn and his crew were
either side of the gap, so I heard, circling the Rustgaters, who were
holed up in a tower hanging down over the gap. The venators had some
fresh blood with them – this woman Noomena, you might have seen her
around, knows Gunn from way back and has signed on with his crew. And
a couple of boys from the backrooms right here, murderous scummers.
'So they got that trap
sprung and started shooting at the sorry Orlock lads out over the
gap, but Ray Void, he wasn't having none of it, he sees Gunn over
yonder at the pit's edge, tells his Rustgaters that's the way they're
going, that's how they're going to break out.
'And Khalid – you
must've seen Khalid round the market here at Cut End? Sharp talker,
Khalid, knows the price of everything, and where to get it. Khalid's
on point, gets his plasma gun up, and doesn't he just go and deadeye
Jonn Gunn himself? But Gunn's a tough old sheenbird, he's down but
not out. And shots are all ringing off the walkways and scorching the
supports, and a few of each crew take a tumble while they're ducking
for cover. I don't know how, but they all grabbed on to wires and
pipes and whatnot and none of them went down down into the darkness –
not yet, anyway.
'Maybe things would've
kicked off different if the ventors had that creepy ratling fella on
board. Whatsisname, Ratbite, that's it. Ratbite snuck off and found
himself a sweet snipe spot, but it turns out this mutie scummer in
Void's pay was also on the sneak, looking for somewhere for a piss. I
heard he ran across Ratbite just as the little freak was aiming his
first shot, and the sight of them as they kept missing each other
point blank was a right laugh. So I heard. By the time the scummer
had got his shift together and actually charged Ratbite and took him
out, the fight was almost over...
'But I'm getting ahead
of myself. So Khalid had gunned Gunn down and the Rustgaters were
mustering for their breakout, but a few of Gunn's crew were coming up
right up at them. And who's there in among the venators? Only
Brokeface Edwydd – you must've seen him round here, yeah? Ugly guy,
keeps coming back from the dead...'
The drinker's voice
tails off and a haunted look steals into his booze-swollen face. Some
things don't bear thinking about. But then he shakes his grin back on
and continues.
'So it's Brokeface
himself running at Ray Void, only the last time Ray - and most of us,
for that matter – saw Brokeface, Ray was dragging him out of this
here bar and burning him to death right there on the market. Can you
imagine Ray's face when he sees this ugly fragger up ahead on the
walkway, blazing away with his autopistols? Ha, it was quite a pict
by all accounts! Anyways, Brokeface is shooting stray as usual, but
not Ray. I swear, that fellow's as cold as the void he was born in.
He just aims his bolter and plugs Brokface, and Brokeface is gone,
fallen into the black place below, Emprah only knows how far, but
I'll bet we'll be seeing him again before the cycle's up...'
That haunted look
again, just for a second.
'But scrag me if that
weren't when things really went sumpwards. I mean it – all that
shooting and moving must've weakened the bolts and bindings on the
ladderways, and wouldn't you know it but the whole structure tears
loose and drops into the pit, all sparks flying and metal screaming
and air rushing. A few of the fighters dropped off during the plunge,
though they've all been seen since, so they must've got swept onto
some of the side levels. And as for the structure itself, well, it
must've got banged or pranged and shunted off, because it didn't drop
eight to the bottom, wherever that is. No, it sorta slid off to the
side, smashing to a stop in one of the dead manufactory domes down in
lower E-Sec. I swear, you couldn't make this up, but stranger things
happen downhive, right?
'So the loose
ladderway's come to rest, and everyone who's still aboard is all
shook, and the landing sets the old mechworks a-whirring, with clouds
of rank smoke spreading out all over, and as if that weren't enough,
some local muties start popping arrows at both crews, not that these
puny critters were tough enough to actually wound anyone.
'Well, no-one had much
stomach for the fight after that. I heard Jonn Gunn, all bloody from
the plasma hits, made an offer to Ray, a bung of Guilder money or
some such, to stand down, but the Voidsman said no – he was going
to blast his way out of there with the rest of his Orlock boys.
'And that they did –
the smoke gave them some cover, even if it had them all coughing and
wheezing, and the venators what was still standing, likewise
half-choked, settled for exploring the dome and charting out how it
connected to the Coin Guild's money-map. Even though the ambush was a
bust, this was enough to get them a decent payoff from the Coiners,
and as for the Rustgate OMC – well, word is that this show of force
made an impression, and that Ray and his boys are now doing bagwork
for the Slavers. On the sly, of course – they're outlaws, after
all.
'So that's how it all
went down at Dead Drop. Quite a story, eh, friend? Worth the price of
a few shots of wildsnake, wouldn't you say?'