Ghostly gust of wind filled the pitch black ceiling with moan-like sighing. Steady hum of the upper floor pumping machinery set the ambient voice in to heady vibrating pace. It sounded almost like if the old gods themselves were whispering their dark thoughts in choir, making the very soul of the listener thrill.
A small group of colourful characters flashed between shadows casted by tall pillars of dark, dusty hall of rock. The ancient sky-high valley of ruins kept the ceiling – along with the rest of the Hive – from falling over their head. They were deep in the Under Hive.
"Over there..." Spit hissed between his yellow teeth, gesturing to the direction of high wooden platform with his gunpoint. Micromechanics of his optical eyewear made quiet hissing noise when they zoomed and focused on the target. The rest of the group halted on their toes and sneaked next to the wall for cover.
Herman Slavo, also known as the Lord Little Bastard, waddled like a crippled penquin near Spit, and observed the advancing Spyrers. "Them fugging Whytes are already making their move. We've got to hurry our arses to keep it with the rest of the gangers," he said. "Vega, ye take the front while Spit holds the reer. Gasto, ye watch mi back," Herman growled commands with his strident voice.
|The Whyte Spyrers advancing.|
"Yes lord, but there's no much to watch," Gasto wisecracked. Others smirked but sucked it up as soon as Herman gave them a cold stare. "If yer dear uncle wasn't the Family's trusted advisor, I would have yer head served for Lord Voygar, on a rusty, shitty plate. So just fug it and do what ye are told to, wise-ass," Herman threw back at him. Gasto gave Herman a murderous look back, but kept his mouth shut.
The rotting board floor creaked underneath their feet as they advanced in formation. Vega took distance to the rest of the gang, leaping from shadow to shadow, covering their every move. Cold, fetid water dribbled down form high above, like if the ceiling was crying some sort of poisonous tears. The whole place made Herman feel sick.
|"The rotting board floor creaked underneath their feet as they advanced in formation."|
The closer they got to their destination, the more moist the environment got. Cracking noice wafted from afar as someone from other gang stepped on a bone lying on the ground. Clumsy Scavvies, Herman though. Suddenly the calm ambience was shattered by a shrieking gunfire pounding no further than half a click from their position. "Hyde!" yelled Vega.
The Wasps hit the shadows, crawling behind cover given by the sparse board platforms and junk fallen off the ceiling. From what it looked like, the Whyte Spyrers had confronted an enemy.
Vega gave a set of hand signals to Spit who acknowledged them and Instantly made his move to the stairs next to him. "Lock 'n load, lads, it's tyme to slash some slags!" Gasto yelled and started his grotesque chainsword with bold gesture.
"Move up there!" Herman yelled, pointing at the stairs leading to the upper platform. One by one they climbed up the stairs, covering each other while manouvering. "Fug!" Vega cursed when one of the fragile steps broke in half. He was able to keep his calm. The place was decomposing and falling apart.
While regruouping on top they saw the things.
Pale shapes flickered in the dark, advancing towards them with fierce, almost inhuman pace. They looked like the Under Hive ghosts, the ones they all had heard of in their younger age. But somehow they were more human – and scarier. One of the things ran straight towards them as they all opened fire at it. The pale thing dropped down like a sack of bones.
|The "pale shapes" making their move towards their foe, the Wasps and the Whyte Spyrers.|
In the twinkling of an eye the rest of the pale skinnies had disappeared, vanished like a dust in the wind. The Wasps stood on their steps, their gun muzzles breathing warm smoke that smelt like burned metal.
"Make sure it's dead," said Herman. Gasto threw the chainsword on his shoulder, started walking towards the thing and replied, "My pleasure..."
|The pale thing dropped down like a sack of bones.|
Gasto approached the downed pale thing with caution, aiming it with his laspistol just in case. It felt like eternity to get to the body, but eventually he made it. Gasto reached over the body and saw how the thing twitched and pushed dark fluid from the burned bullet holes that their lasguns had made. It definately looked like human, what he could tell. After studying the pale thing for a moment, Gasto made a sneering face and subtly kicked the thing to make sure it really was dead. In the corner of his eye he saw how the thing grinned.
The thing rose up nobly, like a corpse from its grave, and hissed between its teeth. Gasto jumped back and readied his chainsword, gasping in horror "Ye should be dead, THING! What the fug are ye?!" The thing replied by jumping right at the Wasp.
Chainblades clashed with fierce and spat searing sparks around. Gasto was able to block the first swing but he was at seriously disadvantaged position. He took aim with his laspistol, but just when he was about to press the trigger, the thing dodged him and made a furious manouver towards him. Gasto felt something hit his belly and then followed the paint.
The rest of the Wasps stared at the scene, helplessly trying to get an aim at the monstrosity. "Lord, we don't have a clear shot, Gasto is on the way!" Vega bawled while trying to aim at the thing. All of a sudden Gasto's beheaded body fell down on his knees and tobbled on the side. Blood squirted off the neck stub like from a fountain.
"Ye fugging basterd!" Spit yelled. He took a knife out of his boot and started running towards Gasto. "Nay Spit, nay!" Vega yelled, trying to stop Spit. But it was too late.
Spit ran towards the scene, but only found Gasto's remains. "Wh-where d-did it go?!" he stammered words out of his mouth while gasping for air. For a while his eyes wondered around and saw stairs running on the upper platforms. He ran towards them, put the knife between his teeth and started climbing up the stairs.
|"Wh-where d-did it go?!"|
It only took a moment for him to reach the upper platform. Spit took the blade out of his mouth and raised his head to have a better view. The fright made his heart miss a beat when he saw her...
"Spit!" Vega tried to call in his friend, but didn't get an answer. They waited for a moment, but nothing happened. It seemed like if Spit had been eaten by the shadows.
The silence was killed by the gun fire that came from their left flank, and very close too. Herman and Vega ran towards the edge of the platform to have a better view of what was happening. It seemed like the Tech Gangers and the Spook Brats had also met the foe. "The hell has gotten loose," Herman whispered.
Vega didn't have time for whispers. He had taken aim at the crawling Scavvies on the opposite side of the immense chasm and shot a short burst. The burst was a good one too, downing one of the gray skinned maggots. The rotten floor feasted with the blood running out of the Scavvy.
|Tech Clan XXXVIII facing the Scavvies.|
|Vega sniping one of the Scavvies from the other side of the immense chasm.|
"Down there!" Herman yelled and pointed on the lower rotten platform. A dim shape of rat-like thing, the size of a man, scrampered towards the Brats. Vega made a swift move from his latest victim, gave a short aim at the ratperson and fired another burst. Bullets bit the head of the ratling and blew it in to a small cloud of red blood. Vega's face didn't flinch an inch.
|The Psykout Spook Brats' confrontation with the rats kin.|
The succesful sniping had its toll. The foe had spotted them and the attention they gave back was lethal. Thunderous rapid fire bit the surroundings, rounds ricocheting around them. The high caliber rounds ate chunks of wood and rock around them. Herman hit the floor and yelling to Vega, trying to get him to get cover too, but for Vega it was already too late.
The heavy weapon that had targeted them made a brutal mess out of Vega. Bullets pierced his flesh in a savage way, detonating inside of his body and turned it in to an enormous cloud of blood. The only thing left behind were the bright yellow shoes – and they weren't that bright anymore.
|Vega's last stand.|
Herman yelled in shock. His whole team had been wiped. He was covered in blood and guts of one of his friends. He lied on the ground, motionless, and saw how the rest of gangs fought their desperate battles to the last man. The hell was loose for sure.
Then he saw it again, the pale skinned butcher that had chopped Gasto's head off. He saw how the thing came closer and closer to him. It can't see me, Herman thought.
Something horrific was dangling on the back of the thing. Herman focused his thought and it came clear to him what the saggy piece was. The thing had Gasto's head hanging from its hair like sort of sick trophy. That vision made Herman's blood boil. Rage rushed to surface tearing the panic apart. The whites of his eyes turned in red from the bursting blood veins. Herman unsheathed his knife, sprang up and ran toward the thing, yelling with his mouth wide open and eyes full of tears...