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Dies irae dies illa

Iron Wraith Iron Wraiths Darkwind Guru Civs Faction Group: Members Posts: 818 Joined: Feb 2, 2009 Iron Wraiths gathered in their traditional monthly team meeting. The long tables had been pushed together in order to seat the 40 or so members in order of seniority. Aubrey Zamora cast his eyes around the table noting the several tables set up apart with overturned glasses where the usual beverage would sit. They represented the gangers that were temporarily out of town in Elmsfield, Gateway, Badlands and the like. In lockups up and down Evan at this time the absent members would also be sitting round similar tables reading the written orders sent to them by their absent leader. As usual the top table centre spot was vacant, the gang leader still being held in Firelight having been captured by Manhunters a year or so ago. His gunner Carl had managed to earn his freedom, but they quickly realised that with no exit options the food bills would be too high for the limited money they could earn in town events and Dalton had bravely elected to remain a Gladiator to preserve their limited local funds. The irony was that Iron Wraiths as a group were quite wealthy since the embargo on trade had never been lifted. At least Carl could keep in contact with the rest of the group and forward Dalton’s orders. In any other gang he supposed that Dalton would have been kicked out, but Wraiths had a tradition of looking after their own and short of him dying the only way for him to be replaced as leader was for another ganger to demonstrate a greater capability, even then Wraiths would continue supporting him until help could be sent. As the seats began filling Aubrey’s gaze was drawn to the seat where Justin Joiner had usually sat. Today there was one of the Wraiths limited number of trophies in place of the drink. Usually that meant a death and later they would fill the trophy and all drink from it in honour of a fallen comrade. Aubrey had heard that earlier in the week Justin had been comprehensively killed in a race event. That made Aubrey top racer and with Wraiths position in the League in serious doubt he wasn't looking forward to the pressure. The meeting was called to order dragging Aubrey from his musings. He hadn't been paying attention because O'Connell hadn't show up yet and as top scout she had honorary chairmanship. Instead one of the newer guys had stood up and asked that since everyone was present could we come to order. Was this some jackass attempt at a coup or a bad joke? Aubrey listened with growing concern as the new guy explained that O'Connell and her Gunner "Boom-boom" folks had been captured by Manhunters and were on their way to Firelight. He smiled when old man Frazier asked how the "young 'un" could be so sure, his eyes were probably better than Frazier’s, but they'd have to be damn good to see all the way to Firelight. Everyone laughed at the joke. Wraiths tended to run solo in a rented Antagonist, since the trouble with Jake, it was the only way. There was no way the young fella could have been with Rodriguez when it happened. The room went silent as the youngster, was he called "Gunz" Sanchez?, explained that he had seen it from the town gates. He had been out with the number two scout, Carl Bulger, watching and learning how solos were carried out. He had seen O'Connell wave goodbye as she set out. A few seconds later a Pheonix and a Sunrise had shot out of the town gates in pursuit. Normally this would have been a dumb ass move so close to civilization and Carl had opined that at worst we'd lose the deposit but at least we'd know who the idiots were. O'Connell tried to manoeuvre onto ground that might favour the Antagonist over the bandits, but the big engines in the other vehicles meant that it was over before it really started. Though she managed to out-turn the Pheonix and rattle its armour, the Sunrise came up fast and unleashed rocket barrages with total disregard for his wing-man. With that kind of firepower and the Ant jerking like a bitch from the explosions it was obvious that she was outclassed and she sensibly surrendered expecting nothing worse than a 200 yard walk to the gates. By now everyone was on tenterhooks as Bulger nodded his head in agreement with all that "Gunz" was saying. Soon the room was in uproar when it was explained that the Scorpion and the Biter had been confirmed as Manhunter cruisers and that O'Connell and "Boom-Boom" had been bundled into the boot and driven off at high speed. Frazier stood, his false leg squeaking in the growing silence. His low voice was tinged with a wobble that could be sadness, or anger. "We have long known the Manhunter threat since our leader Dalton was captured. That we could encounter them in the wilderness was an accepted risk. This latest outrage however stuns me. Have they grown so bold that they dare attack a few hundred yards from the gates or are our guards so feeble that they cannot even defend within gunshot range?" He sits as Harry Leblanc stands to say his piece. "There is something of even greater concern here. The Manhunters attacked from behind. Someone is providing a safe haven in this town for Manhunters to operate out of. It's one thing showing a blind eye to "sister" gangs that compete in town events, but Somerset offers a bounty on Manhunters. How the hell are they operating from inside it? I think we need to talk to the Marshalls." With a general surge of agreement the meeting breaks up leaving Aubrey sitting alone with his thoughts. He unfolds the piece of paper he was due to read out. To an empty room he announces the good news that was to soften Justin’s loss. "Iron Wraiths Cash reserve just topped 3 million dollars." With a shrug he refolds the paper and, sadly walking out into the green tinged sun, he tucks it into his pocket for next time. ......................... vet wv raceL1 deathrceL1 Posted Dec 20, 2011, 8:04 pm Last edited Jan 1, 2012, 3:39 pm by Iron Wraith

Iron Wraith Iron Wraiths Darkwind Guru Civs Faction Group: Members Posts: 818 Joined: Feb 2, 2009 Barbara Rodriguez and Geraldine Patrick stamp into Dexter’s in high dudgeon and crash down into the Iron Wraith pit. "Can you believe that?" Long John doesn't even bother asking the question as he knows he'll get all the details soon enough. Piqued by his silence Patrick blurts out in indignation. "OK so it's the Am night right... Don't look at me like that MR. Frazier... we get what we can..." When she gets no reply other than a raised eyebrow she continues. "We'll we were on the red team with some of those scav guys, Scab Pickers or some such. Did you know that some of them are fighting for food?..." She looks like she is about to start off on another socialist tirade but Rodriguez grips her arm and interrupts. "So we had whittled the entrants down to three on the blue team: Gypsy Jesters; Starvation Nation and some new guys, The Roaring Wheelers. By then it's just us and The Scabs on the red team. Given there isn't any point winning if all you end up with is scrap and since we don't kill the good guys because you might be on a scout with them, we suggested we play for the jump points. It was pretty close between the Jesters and ourselves, but there was plenty of time to make up the gap..." Patrick butts in. "So we are all geared up when suddenly Wheelers opens up on Scabs. Claims he didn't get the memo. We were too far away to help Scabs and in short order they were pretty shot up. The other Blues agreed that we would get no interference from them if we shot up Wheelers for breaking the truce. Anyway, they tried the jumps and failed big time, we made it and I get them with a burst when we were still airborne, we turned on the ramp and began pouring fire into the back of him as he lurched away... and then the cheeky... Well he just gets all 'why you shooting me?'... and I'm like..." Long John places a fatherly hand on Patrick’s wrist. "Slow down girl, this tin ear ain't as good as it once was." Wincing at the word girl, Patrick continues in a slower voice. "We'll since he can't get an angle on us, he turns his guns on Scabs smoking wreck... He's resigned all clear and obvious... and just keeps shooting the..." Frazier looks quickly at Rodriguez for confirmation. "S'the word Long John, I checked on them after the event, Howard can breathe ok as long as no-one unplugs him. McCallister was luckier but is still in bad shape." He shakes his head. "Any idea what made him do it?" Rodriguez sighs. "I think he wanted that car and wasn't happy that we scratched the paintwork, he gunned down Scabs out of spite as he couldn't get us." Long John nods. "So, you’d be thinking it's an honour debt we owe Scabs?" Rodriguez nods. "Way I figure it, Scabs got whacked because we shot up Wheelers. We don't need that kind of spite here in Somerset, we got bandits enough outside the gate. We need to send a message that the likes of Wheelers will understand." John nods thoughtfully. "What about his team mates?" Patrick chips in again. "They played it straight, Gypsy even tried to take him out with a ram, no complaints there." Long John nods appreciatively. "We can live with people like that. As for Wheelers, I'll raise it with Dalton... it’s a poor state of affairs when boys just trying to earn a crust get near killed, especially when it’s by some dumb fool who gets narky because his winnings got dented." Rodriguez shakes her head. "Hell he didn't win, the car's in the shop with Theresa. We won the jump off and he wasn't even close. If he'd started off jumping he might have carried it as we wouldn't have got the points for shooting him up. We probably would have lost to Starvation Nation anyway. He wasn't even thinking tactically." Long John smiles at the irony. "OK ladies, get cleaned up and I'll see you in the morning." As they leave he wanders over to the events posting board and notes some details. “John Pierson and Donald Guillot. Hmmm, you haven't made any friends today..." ......................... vet wv raceL1 deathrceL1 Posted Dec 29, 2011, 1:01 am Last edited Jan 1, 2012, 3:54 pm by Iron Wraith

Iron Wraith Iron Wraiths Darkwind Guru Civs Faction Group: Members Posts: 818 Joined: Feb 2, 2009 Barbara Rodriguez storms into the Iron Wraith Lockup. "Ok where are they?" Theresa looks up from her repairs. "Who, do you... What the hell happened to you?" Rodriguez clothes are covered in foul smelling sewage. "One of the septic tanks got "accidentally" emptied on me. Where are those dipsticks "Twerpilligan" and Shane? Long John Frazier looks over from his chair in the corner. "I set them on errands, figured they needed some lessons after that stunt." Rodriguez is unable to contain her anger even at Long John who is the elder statesman of Wraiths. "STUNT! Have you any idea the damage those two idiots have done. There isn't a person in town who has a civil word for us, the Mafia are "disappointed" and that ain't gonna end well. Not to mention FIVE, count them FIVE hitherto friendly teams have publicly posted that they won't honour our resignations... And this because one of those two dipsticks decided to keep firing on a resigned foe until they have murdered the crew." Long John shakes his head. "Now calm down Barbara, I heard five people died in that event and most didn't walk out, it's a dangerous game." Rodriguez snaps. "Don't you lecture me on how dangerous the game is old man, I ain't some wet behind the ears. Don't go pretending to me that you can't tell the difference between killin' and murdering neither, not after that lecture you gave us yesterday about that affair with the Scabs and the Wheelers..." Long John, normally placid raises an eyebrow. "Now you mind your manners girl! I maybe so old that I ain't got the strength nor the coordination to give you a good whoppin, but I sure as hell got the wits to find some fellas who'd line up for the chance to administer one on my behalf!" Theresa drops a spanner and screams in agony cutting off Rodriguez reply before it starts. "Can you two reserve your hissy fits for them who deserve it? Some of us are trying to get work done without your distraction making someone loose a finger. Take it to Dexter’s." Rodriguez nods her head in triumph. "I guess I'll do just that... Oh now hang on... I c'aint can I on account of us being BARRED. Oh an another thing, it ain't limited to Somerset, Whiteside had her tires slashed and sand dropped into her fuel tank over in Gateway. Fortunately it was only a race." Long John sighs. "How'd she do?" Rodriguez can't help smile. "She won of course, we lost popularity, not talent." Long John chuckles. "Well, Shane has started his rehab. He has started to honour our debt to Scabs. We can't and won't offer charity, but if we can help them win an event and get some food in their bellies, then we'll have done something." Rodriguez reluctantly seems to accept this. "What do we do in the mean time?" Long John smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "We let it blow over. Eventually things will get back to normal, people forget and there ain't no saying the guys Shortt and Terwilliger whacked were angels. The Mafia are business men, hell they put contacts out on people, so it ain't as if they got the moral high ground. Town’s folk will get over it in time, we brought them more bandits scouts than the arena pros ever did. Until then all our living expenses will be earned by Terwillger and Shortt. If they get killed it'll be their own fault, but we won't hasten that by disowning them. They wore our colours when they made their mistake, so it's our mistake now." Rodriguez shakes her head. "Long John, how'd you get to be so damn wise?" Long John grins. "I'm 200 years old and there ain't a part of me that's wholly mine. I guess I am as close to the maker as a fella can be while still being technically alive. I guess that proximity means some divine wisdom rubs off. One day I may start to write sermons..." He breaks off laughing as Rodriguez scoops some of the sewage in his direction. ......................... vet wv raceL1 deathrceL1 Posted Dec 31, 2011, 12:12 am Last edited Jan 1, 2012, 3:46 pm by Iron Wraith

Iron Wraith Iron Wraiths Darkwind Guru Civs Faction Group: Members Posts: 818 Joined: Feb 2, 2009 Barbara Rodriguez walks into the IW lockup with her customary war face on. "Dagnabit, these people are so ungrateful, I could spit." Theresa the mechanic looks up, sighs and wipes her hands. "Coffee?" Rodriguez flumps down in a seat that has been pulled from one of the hundreds of wreckers that IW have accumulated over time. When she is handed the cup she waves a piece of paper at Theresa who takes it before perching on her toolbox. She frowns as Rodriguez tips half her hip flask into her coffee. "Early even for you isn't it?" "Yeah, why not? It's not like I'll be driving for a while." Rodriguez waves at the paper and there is silence for a few moments as Theresa digests the poorly written flyer. Her eyes widen in shock." "Where'd you get this?" Rodriguez smirks happy that she has rattled the sanctimonious mechanic. "They're all over town." Long John who has been sitting in his customary corner oiling his spare leg raises an eyebrow in enquiry and Rodriguez recites from memory. "Bounty of $660 per head offered on Senior Members of Iron Wraiths for despicable acts... 'bout one word in two spelled right." John sits up clearly surprised. "Bounty! Who the hell is offering bounty, and what for?" Rodriguez smiles grimly. "Who knows, and that's the minor part. Just got word that one of the guys in Badlands was in a deathrace. Like in Gateway someone had sabotaged his tires and engine. In this one they also "forgot" to load his weapons." Long John stands aghast. "That's a virtual death sentence... those Mafia sonsa... This has gone too far. Get the team together. We need to talk." A few hours later Wraiths are assembled. The de-facto leaders stand together to address them. "Ladies, Gentlemen... Mutants. We need a vacation. Evan has apparently forgotten the long service we have offered in the past, at times at considerable personal cost." There are nods and the few of Iron Wraiths with the full complement of body parts nod in deference to majority who don't. They in turn nod at the roll of honour drawn up on a battered door stripped from a long dead Bandit’s Apache. "We freely accept that some members of our gang made a serious error of judgement in a combat a few days ago, they are in hospital reflecting on this mistake as we speak. We have however been subject to a lethally disproportionate retaliation from elements in society that should have longer memories... We have decided that since their memories are so short, we will not remain to remind them. Today the committee issued an order to our outposts in Elmsfield, Gateway, Badlands and Firelight that we were suspending operations until this ludicrous storm in a teacup has subsided." Some of the newer member look uncertain but are quickly reassured. "The lockups will remain open for all of you. The gang isn't disbanding, we'll just be living off our reserves for a while. Aubrey tells us that we have enough in hand to take an extended holiday if necessary. After today there will be no more eventing. We'll rest and recuperate. Our hospital cases will still receive the care they deserve for faithful service. No-one will starve. They may choose to "punish" us, but we don't have to take it as punishment. Now got to your work, finish what you have undertaken to do today and we'll bunker down until this thing blows over." "God Bless us in our endeavours." ......................... vet wv raceL1 deathrceL1 Posted Jan 1, 2012, 8:08 am Last edited Jan 1, 2012, 4:04 pm by Iron Wraith

*Grograt* Grograts Gonads Darkwind Guru Renegade Group: Marshals Posts: 8,377 Joined: Oct 5, 2008 O.O.C Great stuff wraith, keep it coming ......................... vet marshal wv community Posted Jan 1, 2012, 12:03 pm

Iron Wraith Iron Wraiths Darkwind Guru Civs Faction Group: Members Posts: 818 Joined: Feb 2, 2009 Hans Sollars and Jeanette Zabala were sitting next to “Number 89” at the back of the lockup. Russ Brown was awkwardly perched in the driver seat of the ex-chevalier chatting to them through a gaping hole in the front armour and over the empty engine bay. Brown was technically a hospital case and had been excused duty, but the other two had been told to audit the armoury and as they were the entirety of the Somerset arm of the infantry they tended to do things together. All three had been recruited on the nod at Dexter’s. In a normal gang they might have been thrown back, but Wraiths stuck by its creed that everyone got a chance. Zabala had been especially grateful to be accepted. Some gangs would have accepted her only to shoot her out back for her pistol. She had heard of it happening to “waste of space” gangers, especially when the food or water got short. Some just had it in for mutants but the presence of four others had convinced her that she might fit in here. While they worked checking and counting the grenade belts, Hans Sollars was running them through his planned report to Dalton. Hans was master armourer by dint of his superior skill with a rifle, but given most of the Wraith’s gangers had to have their guns loaded for them it wasn’t saying much. They were discussing the Wraiths managing to place in the paintball league. Due to a poor turn out by the opposition and some lucky hits there was a vague possibility they might scrape something. It wouldn’t be much, but it would be something positive to report. They had taken part in only a few of the events, policy being that fun-time was a very distant third place to bandit suppression and training events. As it was a no risk event it couldn’t even be convincingly described as training and the pitiful income usually meant there was something better to do. The three of them were however generally excused other duties as they were frankly a liability in a vehicle. Hans was getting worried that if he didn’t show the value of his “infantry” it wouldn’t be long before they were thrown out on their ear. Sadly even in the “Friendly” events there were gangers that were so skilled that Wraiths were hopelessly outclassed. It was for this reason Hans had foolishly entered the team in a Pedestrian Combat event, hoping the live rounds would sharpen his game and the big prize money would impress the petrol-heads. He had also assumed the good gangs wouldn’t risk their competent people if there was a risk they could get killed. Unfortunately he hadn’t followed through on his own logic and all they had got for their trouble was gut shot impairing their performance in later events. “If this Paintball League doesn’t come off, I don’t see how we can pay our way. Aubrey showed me the numbers and we are costing the team over two hundred and fifty bucks a week on board alone. Unless we make over three and a half grand this year, we are a net loss. I can’t see them wearing that indefinitely, especially as we are going to ground again soon.” Jeanette points over to her heavily bandaged colleague in the car. “That doesn’t include the medical expenses, or expended ammunition costs. I’d say we need to clear at least five grand to be on the safe side.” Russ waves airily. “No problems Bubbles, we got a first, a third and a fifth place and that came to over three grand and don’t forget what Hilda brings in.” Hilda Tingle was the only other gunslinger in the gang, but as she was based in the tiny enclave up at Gateway, none of the three had ever met her. It was only the occasional letter that kept Hans informed of her activities. “You forget that most of the money Hilda makes for the gang is through her death racing, which doesn’t count for squat.” Whilst Hilda was notionally under Hans and therefore her expenses as an infantryman were met through his budget, she regularly took part in Death Races. She was even driver qualified. There were only four Wraiths in Gateway and, with no hospital facility, injuries could mean the front line drivers and gunners could be out of action for extended periods. Hilda regularly filled in. In Somerset there were so many alternatives that even if they had wanted to enter a vehicle town event, there would generally be someone higher skilled who would beat them to the cut. In Gateway, the relaxed rules meant Hilda could even bail out early and support with a rifle, but even then it would be classed as a death race win and the money paid into the death race budget. The fact that Hans would still be required to pay for replacement ammo rankled somewhat. He was also aware that, as these were live fire exercises, she was learning all the time and it wouldn’t be long before she overtook him as top rifle. Her place in the gang was pretty safe. “Granted we might just scrape through, but even the truckers have been in Arena Combats and made more for the team than us.” Russ gesticulates wildly. “Yeah, and look where that got us. It was Shortt that caused this whole “Hate the Wraiths” hassle. At least we haven’t started a feud with five other gangs!” Hans nods. “I guess so, but it would nice to get a placing just to make sure. Anyway, let’s get this finished or we’ll be kicked out for dereliction of duty.” Jeanette nods ruefully. “Truth that.” ......................... vet wv raceL1 deathrceL1 Posted Jan 2, 2012, 4:03 pm Last edited Jan 2, 2012, 4:10 pm by Iron Wraith

Iron Wraith Iron Wraiths Darkwind Guru Civs Faction Group: Members Posts: 818 Joined: Feb 2, 2009 Leroy London was finishing up the health report for Dalton. The monthly "butchers bill" was generally not as bad as some gangs and Wraiths took care of its people. Gangers were encouraged to surrender before they got badly hurt (though the expectation was that you would fight at least until you had breached armour). The maimed, substance dependant and frail were also kept on and supported. It meant there was plenty of experience in the team to encourage the new kids and could see at a glance what they were letting themselves in for. He had just finished a volunteer stint at Somerset Hospital and had taken the opportunity to check in on the hospital cases. He was glad to see there had been no new crippling injuries, though Rodriguez was in a bad way through a combination of previous maiming, alcoholism and generally poor health in addition to her recent combat injuries. She had recently acquired the nick name "Too Keen" and seemed increasingly unable to function outside the arena. Leroy suspected it was simply another manifestation of an addictive personality and wondered how long she would be able to keep it up. He'd been even more annoyed to see that Sanchez had checked himself out for some mad-cap excursion into the wilderness to bag some bandits. The stress had opened up his stitches and he was now back in. It looked like the gang was getting over confident and maybe the enforced hiatus would establish some equilibrium. He noted these observations on his report, but wondered whether Dalton would care or even take any notice. The meat grinder policy that Dalton himself had introduced had fallen into abeyance. New gangers were simply thrown into combat events without consideration of their ability or the inherent design flaws of the supplied vehicles. The more reluctant they were, the more frequently they were exposed to unreasonable risk. Whilst it would be charitable to think that Wraiths had ultimately found it too harsh after Daltons capture, the simple truth was it the committee had decided that it wasn't an effective use of manpower. Gone were the days when the Mafia provided unlimited vehicles to smash up with impunity in town events and it was too expensive to put in one of your own combat vehicles just to get a no-hoper "bloodied". There were still some events where vehicles were provided and even events where you could keep what was left of the vehicle if you won, but they weren't nearly as profitable as the ones where you had to risk your own vehicle. As a result only gangers with a good chance of winning without suffering significant damage were put forward and if you took less damage, you were less likely to be hurt. This month however there had been two deaths, one of them of a well loved long standing member. Justin Joiner had became known as "Sleepy" after a horrific crash left him in a coma for almost a year. Once he had recovered he occasionally took to the circuit, but was never as dynamic as before his crash. When the race league aspirations of Iron Wraith were in jeopardy however he had pulled out all the stops. He was almost half a lap ahead in the final lap when something made him loose control of his vehicle and it smashed into the concrete barrier at over 100 mph. Bursting into flames on impact, the car exploded shortly afterward. As usual Leroy had been in attendance in case of accident, but no-one survived stuff like that. Inexplicably, Justin's telemetry had continued to operate in his trademark fashion for several minutes after the explosion and some of the more suggestible gangers had begun speculating that he might have survived the crash. Leroy got over to the wreck as soon as possible, but there wasn't enough of Justin to identify, let alone treat. It was clear that he had probably burned to death even before the explosion that would have certainly finished him. Unfortunately rather than accept the obvious truth that the equipment had malfunctioned in the crash, some of the mutants started on with their Psionic superstitions and speculated that, having spent so long plumbed into a machine during his coma, Justin had acquired some sort of machine empathy that enabled him to briefly inhabit the system after his corporeal body had been consumed. This was clearly nonsense and frankly a bit distasteful and Leroy had been about to say something when Long John pulled him to one side. All he said was that "people need to believe there is something beyond here." In the end just sorting out the remains had seemed a higher priority and Leroy had let it go. The rest of the gangs silly ceremony with the trophy and the empty chair was one thing and he sort of understood and respected it, but the mutants had recovered the telemetry equipment and had insisted Theresa examine it closely and with undue reverence. She had simply said that she had found nothing to explain the ghostly signals that had apparently been sent so long after the crewman’s death. The mutants had chosen to ignore her codicil that, since the incomplete bundle of junk they brought back could have been a toaster, there was nothing to show the equipment was capable of sending any signals before the crash either. Instead to honour his memory, the pile of random wires, tuners and what have you had been wired up in a box in the lock up and one of the mutants monitored it round the clock in case Sleepy chose to send another messages from beyond the grave. The whole time he was writing his report he had to put up with the random groan of atmospheric interference emanating from the tinny speaker and the hoarse whispered prayers of the current vigilant. He had ended up putting some cotton swabs in his ears and that had helped to a degree. What he couldn't quite put out of his mind however was the little red transmit light on the front of the box flickering in a regular rhythm. Blink.blink.....blink.blink.....blink.blink. A steady 60 beats per minute. ......................... vet wv raceL1 deathrceL1 Posted Jan 4, 2012, 10:59 pm

Iron Wraith Iron Wraiths Darkwind Guru Civs Faction Group: Members Posts: 818 Joined: Feb 2, 2009 Barbara Rodriguez sat upright in her bed drenched in sweat. The pounding of the guns that had ripped through the side of her car drowned by the scream forced from her as hot metal shards pierced her belly, chest and throat... No that couldn't be right... The sound faded to the usual nocturnal coughs and sobs that typified a night in Somerset Hospital and a gutteral demand from somewhere outside the room to "pipe down". Another nightmare. This was getting to be a pain, every night for the last week. She was sure it was the damn sedatives they kept trying to feed her. It was too hot in the hospital and her sleep had been disturbed all night. It was well after 3 am before she had finally dropped off and the dented clock by her bed mocked her with the news that it was not even 5 am. She reached under her fusty pillow for the hipflask secreted there and took a deep draught. She winced as the rotgut lanced through her ravaged gut before it settled down to its more bearable nagging burn. After a while the shakes stopped and the head pain started to loose it's focus. She felt nauseous and gulped down a couple of brown pills that Leroy had given her when he slipped the flask under the pillow, washing it down with another swig. The pain was less this time and the burn settled down to a warm glow in the pit of her being. There had been some doc from Elmsfield round earlier and he had been impressing on her the value, and not inconsiderable cost, of abstinence. She had listened, nodded and then flipped him the finger as soon as his back was turned. Leroy was a bit preachy, but at least he knew a lost cause when he saw it. Doc Elmsfield had been stressing that she would kill herself with the drinking as though she didn't realise it, Leroy seemed resigned to the fact that it was beyond her control. What neither of them seemed to grasp was that it was a game plan. She let her mind drift away to a pheromone charged half-week a year or two ago. Two days and three nights of pure hope that had ripped her emotional armour from her and exposed her soft core to a higher state of being. The tears wouldn't even come any more. Every drop of moisture and feeling had been drained on that afternoon under the baking sun as his blood ran through her fingers into the greedy sand of the track. She pictured him when she first noticed him among the crowd of newbs and got swallowed up by those blue eyes. She tried to recall the the exact look he had given her that first time she stood naked before him but it wouldn't stay in focus, it kept drifting to the dead orbs stippled with dust that had been her last sight of him before they had taken him from her. She could no longer remember what he looked like whole and alive, only broken and burned in the dirt. And that was the nub of it. They'd been kind after their fashion, but he was still gone. They'd told her she'd get over it, but she never had. They told her better to have loved and lost, but that just wasn't true. They told her that he would live on in her memory... Without conscious thought the flask found it's way to her lips and it was only when the glow started that she realised. There was something else there too... slight bitterness? Leroy, he just couldn't help himself. Medicine in her medicine. No they really didn't get it. If she could she would have taken the easy way out, but that would be killing him again and she couldn't take such a deliberate act. Out in the arena though, it would be an unfortunate occupational hazard, an accident, fate. She smiled sadly. She couldn't deny her fate, could she. ......................... vet wv raceL1 deathrceL1 Posted Jan 5, 2012, 6:35 pm Last edited Jan 7, 2012, 11:17 pm by Iron Wraith

Iron Wraith Iron Wraiths Darkwind Guru Civs Faction Group: Members Posts: 818 Joined: Feb 2, 2009 Aubrey Zamora stared at the blurring page of manuscript that was in front of him. It was late and he had decided that this was the final draft before it was consigned to Firelight. In the corner of the corral of vehicles that was notionally his "office", the candle guttered and some papers wafted lazily as some unidentified ganger drifted aimlessly into the lockup. He sighed in mild exasperation for the umpteenth time and tried again to refocus his concentration on getting the words and numbers to match up. Dalton had once made a speech about every ganger needing to pay his way, elliptically referring to some socialist dictum of each contributing according to his ability, each receiving according to his need. Aubrey hadn't been fooled, Dalton was no more a socialist than Dexter but, as a result of that speech, the week of scrutiny leading up to a report generally saw a surge in event activity each ganger frantically tried to demonstrate that they were a net contributor. As a result every time Aubrey had submitted the numbers the gang had more money. In the past he had submitted figures almost at random, with Dalton stuck in the gladiator pits in Firelight, there had been little reason and delivering mail sent to Firelight seemed to be "optional". He often got a stack of missives from Dalton, weeks apart all in the same day’s delivery. It was clear from the context that some never got through and they had taken to keeping a three month rolling journal that was sent in its entirety every week. If it didn't get through for 3 weeks, at least week 4 would contain everything from weeks 1 to 3 as well. It wasn't perfect, but it was workable. It did mean however that Aubrey was writing a dozen pages every week, most of which was simply re-writing what he had written a dozen times before. Each time he re-drafted a previous weeks missive it would be refined, corrected and would acquire a sub-conscious shading as the long term success of seemingly great ideas became apparent over time. Long John and the other committee members had kept a lazy eye on the Somerset figures and Aubrey had incorporated the sub-totals for the smaller detachments as and when he received them. Gateway was pretty anal about it making sure there was an update in every week's mail. Badlands communications were less regular, but to be fair the mail didn't always get through. Ironically Elmsfield, that was probably the closest, was the most erratic in filing its weekly stats. Randy the section-head there was no financial genius but Aubrey suspected the main reason for the deficiency was tactical. With very few outgoings the Elmsfield crew seldom needed to generate any income. They generally only sent a report after they had placed in an event and where the numbers would show an increase over the previous set of figures. If they were more regular the lack of activity would be more obvious. Aubrey wasn't sure Dalton really cared, he had once joked that his job was to make sure that the gang didn't become "Iron Waifs" and that the gangers didn't get soft. Since they had tripped the 3 million mark the Boss had been unusually pedantic about the gangs finances. Aubrey couldn't quite fathom why 300 bucks for some poorly attended 10th place was now critical to Dalton's game plan when it was chicken feed before. Then again the detailed scrutiny had made some of the "supporting cast" gangers commit themselves to personal revenue generation. Aubrey wasn't sure that it was necessarily a good idea that a mechanic felt obliged to enter a death race because it was easier to show a cash return than be a contributor to overall effectiveness. This had come about because of Daltons first "motivational" outbursts, when he took over the leadership, about the difference between involvement and commitment. "Take your bacon and eggs, the chicken was involved but the Pig was committed." he had said to mixed reaction. Some of the newer gangers didn't even seem to know what an egg was so the whole analogy was lost on them. Some of the older hands had creaked their artificial limbs and folded their arms in contempt for the upstart. Aubrey himself had simply thought that it was easier to sustain the level of involvement of the chicken than that of the pig. Aubrey looked up as a shadow passed over his page. One of the the "also-rans", Sollars was it?, had moved to hover just inside the office an envelope gripped in his hand so hard his knuckles had turned white. Aubrey nodded him over. "I wus wonderin' did you submit the accounts for the Infantry yet? Ah have something more to add." Aubrey shook his head and held out his hand. Sollars’ hand shot out and slapped the envelope into it, like it was on fire and he was glad to be rid of it. The envelope had the cipher of the Mafia and was the final placing for the Paintball league. He noted with only passing interest that Sollars’ team had made a fairly uninspiring 7th place. He looked up and saw the man's face was bleached white and filmed in perspiration. He jiggled nervously from foot to foot and looked like he would foul himself. With shock Aubrey realised that it was the mechanic story all over again. The man clearly thought that this document would be the deciding factor in whether he made the move with the Wraiths to their off-duty quarters, or would be cast out into the wilderness. Aubrey was disconcerted to be seen as the final authority on such a life-changing matter. He heard himself sternly telling Sollars that he would be recommending that Dalton retain his services and thos of his team and that he hoped their performance would continue to improve. He meant it as reassurance, but by the look of relief and the babbled assurances it was clear that it had been taken as an admonishment. Rather than try to explain and anxious to be alone with his thoughts he ushered the man out. Clearly Sollars was as keen to get back to comfortable obscurity and soon Aubrey was alone with his thoughts and conscience. Though bone-weary he began to review the figures one more time, this time paying special attention to the border-line cases and finding ways to round-up the numbers. It would be a good two hours more before he was finished drafting, but somehow he knew he would sleep well tonight. ......................... vet wv raceL1 deathrceL1 Posted Jan 6, 2012, 3:52 pm Last edited Jan 7, 2012, 11:21 pm by Iron Wraith

Iron Wraith Iron Wraiths Darkwind Guru Civs Faction Group: Members Posts: 818 Joined: Feb 2, 2009 Barbara Rodriguez signed her name in the register as the surly ward sister kept a jaundiced eye on her. "Don't give me the hard eye Hal, it ain't the first time I been here and it won't be the last neither. Wraiths ain't never paid late yet and don't forget we have done you favours in the past." The thickset man glowered. His hospital almost-whites jarred with the baton swinging from his belt and the shotgun that routinely sat across his lap as he guarded the ward from narcos and those who might choose to bring their arguments into his area of responsibility. Working for the people who fixed wounds up didn't mean he was unwilling to dish a few out in the interests of expediency. "History don't count for squat here soldier, all I know is that y'all have a bounty on your head and that means you attract heat. Heat that I don't want nor need. I am repaying your favour by being between you and those that might decide to slip some extra medication into you while you sleep, so don't come the acid with me." Shaking her head Rodriguez made her way off the ward and went to reception to claim her personal weaponry and other belongings. With a bounty on your head it was only common sense to go about properly tooled up. Rodriguez believed in carrying so many obvious weapons that hopefully no-one would spontaneously decide to make a quick half grand. She couldn't stop a determined bounty-hunter who made the effort to plan, but she could stop herself getting killed by some punk and looking like a dead fool into the bargain. As she picked up her stuff from the sour-faced woman in reception a commotion at the door seized her attention. Six Wraiths supporting one another were stumbling in through the door. From the blunt trauma it was clear they had taken a beating. Rodriguez swept up her dunnage and strode over anger already beginning to boil over. "What happened!" The group stumbled to a halt and looked shiftily at one another. Seeing Rodrigez mounting impatience Donna rash, one of the mechanics decided to speak." "We didn't do nothin'g maam, we had slipped out to get some provisions from Dexter. Mr. Frazier told us to mind no-one and just go straight there and back. Well we got into town fine, and we were almost at Dexters when these guys stepped out of an alley way and blocked our path." Seeing Rodriguez wasn't going to kill the petite grease monkey, David Morey decided it was safe to join in. "We told them we weren't looking for trouble and turned round to got another way, but there were more behind us. Most of them had guns, there must have been a dozen... well maybe less than that, but they were looking for a fight and we hadn't got a pocket knife between us. There were some people passing by and we hollered for help, but they just turned and walked away." Rodriguez sees by the scorn in the young mutants eyes that he isn't surprised by the reaction of the "honest" towns folk. She eyes up the rest of the group and her attention is drawn to a bent figure at the back, his arm crudely splinted up. With shock she recognises Carl Bulger one of the old guard. His eyes are swollen up and his face is so puffy from bruising she barely recognised him. "Carl, who did this?" He shakes his head dejectedly and it is another of the youngsters who speaks in his stead. "I didn't recognise them. They surrounded us and then started beating on us with gun butts and pickaxe handles. After they had given us a serious going over one of them pointed a shotgun at Carl and I thought he was going to kill us in cold blood, but one of the others told him that shooting us in broad daylight might be going to far. He kicked Cral in the face and told the rest of us that we should be real careful going out after dark. Then they headed off. We came straight here." Rodriguez shakes her head in disgust. "Get checked in, you should be safe in here. I'll tell old man Frazier where you are. You don't leave here until we come and collect you, savvy." Without waiting for an answer she strides out into the street cycling her rifle as she does so. "OK, you want a fight, come and get me!" ......................... vet wv raceL1 deathrceL1 Posted Jan 8, 2012, 10:19 pm

Iron Wraith Iron Wraiths Darkwind Guru Civs Faction Group: Members Posts: 818 Joined: Feb 2, 2009 Shane Shortt slunk out of Somerset hospital keeping his head down. Just yesterday 'Too Keen' has visited his bunk in the hospital and "explained" to him the consequences of his actions in the arena just before he had been admitted. She had been half-cut as usual and the explanation had been loud, littered with expletives and it was only when she started shaking him that Dwane, the burly warden assigned to watch over him, had asked her to leave. Not that he had shown Shane much compassion afterwards. Dwane had advised him to be very careful when he was discharged as there would be lots of people looking to get him re-admitted, as a “Cobra” follower Dwane would be among them. When they'd gridded up that fateful day, Shane had been surprised to see that it wasn't the Red on Blue team events he was used to. The last man standing events were not too common and he had been briefly thrown knowing that no quarter would be safe and that no-one would run interference for you. Alicia had been cool about it and said the bets thing was to get a lap in while the safeties were locked, by then the usual suspects would be venting their anger at their favourite opponent and Wraiths as the dark horse could throw in a few opportunity shots as needed. They'd gone round a few times and had managed to democratically clip anyone who wove into their sights. When there were only a few combatants left Alicia stopped the roundabout and he had locked the HMG in the tail onto Cobras ready for when they passed, Alicia’s gun scored a few hits, and then Cobra's rear mounted heavy had got some fragments through the armour. Shane was hurting bad and he lost focus on what was happening. As Cobras swung across his arc, he jammed down the trigger. The shooting went on far longer than it should and it was only when the gun ran dry that he heard Alicia yelling to him to hold his fire. He couldn't see what the problem was, if Cobra's were too stupid to surrender then damn them! They'd wounded him, he wouldn't fight shy of hurting them unless they quit. Alicia was screaming that they had quit and he'd been confused as he was sure Cobras had been the only opponent left, once they quit, the combat would be over and the safeties would come back on. He saw the bullet riddled wreck as they drove away he realised something was wrong; his telemetry said they were surrendered, but his gun was still live and the event was still active. He had been shouting that there had been a mistake as they carted him out of the arena, the mafia reluctantly fending off enraged fans that wanted his and Alicia’s blood. He'd been visited by “Long John” and a matter-of-fact Mafioso in hospital. John had sat there while the Mafioso asked him to explain just what the hell he thought he was doing murdering contestants at a family arena. Shane had been confused as to whether he meant Family or family but it was clear that it was made clear that it was he that would be answering questions if he valued his legs. Once he'd gone over it all again the Mafioso seemed satisfied. There had been a mistake he agreed. The mistake had been Shane's who hadn't understood that the last man standing events didn't end until the last man retired; he could continue to try to rack up checkpoints for the full duration of the event, guns remained live. Shane had been shown the footage of the Cobra's driver trying to get out under a hail of HMG fire. The gunner was already very dead. They had surrendered well before Shane's gun ran dry. There was even a bit of footage showing Shane banging the gun in frustration when it ran out of ammunition. He looked like a crazed psycho. “Long-John” had asked what the mafia would be doing. He had been told that the Mafia couldn't be seen to allow that sort of behaviour, Somerset had standards that they were required to uphold. Since it was clearly a mistake, they'd keep their limit their retribution but they would have to be seen to act and wouldn't limit their actions to Somerset. They would take no action against any of the gangs that had taken part, especially Cobras, if they felt they had punishment of their own to dish out. The general public was beyond their control, but they would not speak up for Wraiths. His advice was to keep a low profile and wait for it to blow over. That was weeks ago and it seemed that Wraiths were still at the centre of the storm. Fifteen gangers had been subject to punishment beatings so far and barely an event passed when their rides were not sabotaged in some way or other. Shane had been kept updated by a vindictive Rodriguez and an increasingly distraught Alicia. Her presence had been interpreted as compliance and in truth she could have taken over control of the rear gun and prevented the slaughter. They had spent long evening’s discussing their options and had reluctantly come to a decision. Once Shane was recovered, they would go to “Long-John” together and accept joint liability. Now that time had come. He managed to reach the lockup without attracting too much attention, some of the gang had cold shouldered him but he accepted that was fair. A few people sneered at him and he could see someone gesticulating at him from across the street but he had hurried away before it could escalate. Alicia joined him as he traversed the long room, but of the dozen others no-one would even meet his eye. “Long John” sat in his usual rocker watching their progress up the room. As they got closer, they could sense the other gangers closing in behind them and a quick glance showed that a solid wall of muted hostility was steadily building. When they halted in front of the old man Alicia gave Shane hand a quick squeeze. He half smiled and directed his attention to Somerset’s top scout. "Mr. Frazier, Sir. I know I have caused you some trouble and I want to make amends. Alicia here ain't really to blame, but since most folks can't see that, we have decided that the same fate binds us." There is muttered agreement from behind, but 'Long John' remains impassive, his steely eye unwavering, his mood unfathomable. Slightly disconcerted, Shane stumbles on through his little speech, his face reddening and his voice rising in pitch as his throat contracts under the unflinching scrutiny. "I... We have decided that we must leave the gang. If you can let us have one of the spirits, we'll head out tonight and try to make to Sarsfield. It's far enough that they won't know us and maybe we can start again. We can work a few events there and pay you back for the car." He stops abruptly having run through his plan far quicker than he thought he would and stands awkwardly awaiting the oldster’s reaction. The rest of the room is silent as the gang awaits the judgement. After consideration 'Long John' shakes his head. "Nope, won't do. Won't do at all. Alicia there is your driver and far as I know she ain't never been as far as Gateway. You got a reputation as a killer boy, but in reality you're just a truck driver that sits behind a gun on occasion. You ain't ready for the Badlands run, like as not you'd just end up costing us some transport, and getting yourselves all ate up by critters. None of that helps us in any way either, the town will still hate the gang for what you done and innocent folks will get themselves all beat on for nothing. No, we need to show the town we are punishing you, that way maybe the rest of us will get an even break." Alicia looks shaken. She had expected hostility from the gang, but she had hoped that 'Long John' would have shown some mercy. One lousy Spirit wasn't going to break the bank and she'd pulled her weight in the past. She choked back tears, determined not to show weakness. What did 'Long John' mean by punishment? The long walk out of Somerset, that would be a virtual death sentence... or maybe it would be quicker than that, or slower. She dare not look at 'Long John' and was shaking as he began to relate his judgement. "Hmm, seems to me the folks of Somerset might feel better towards Wraiths if we did some public works. Now it ain't fair that the rest of us risk our lives, but if you are so damn tootin' keen on driving in the wilderness, you might as well do us some good in the process. Roadworthy transport is getting mighty thin on the ground in this gang, so we'll rent a gunship for you from Jake. You can take your chances with the bandits around Somerset, like as not they'll be a mite easier to deal with than the crowds you'll meet at Badlands. If you bring back a trophy you'll be adding to our stock, it might help get the townies back on side, they won't care how many Bandits you gun to death in cold blood, hell they may even reward you for it. If you loose, at least we won't have lost our own gear and you can take that walk in the wilderness you were so set on or maybe get a free ride to Firelight. Do well and you'll earn back our trust and you'll be fit to make the Badlands run as part of the gang. Do real bad and you'll die in combat rather than be beaten to death in an alley." The judgement is met with general approval, a few still grumble, Rodriguez is surly drunk again. Shane looks to Alicia and they nod their assent. It is possibly a safer option than the drive they planned and it is the chance to stay with the group. In Evan it could be a struggle to live together, but it was real easy to die alone. ......................... vet wv raceL1 deathrceL1 Posted Jan 10, 2012, 9:21 pm

Iron Wraith Iron Wraiths Darkwind Guru Civs Faction Group: Members Posts: 818 Joined: Feb 2, 2009 Barbara Rodriguez was still angry about the resolution with Shortt and Terwillger. They had brought the name of Wraiths low and endangered the whole gang but there was 'Long John' was throwing them a life line. It was a punishment only if they chose to exercise it, they could just sit on their butts for a week or two and then everyone would forget. They should have been kicked out, it would have sent a better message to the mafia and the town. "Rodriguez, where the hell are you going?" The barked query from Sanchez brought her back to the present. She had started piloting their gunship up the take off ramp at double down, intending to make a jump and let the ground hogs scrap it out for a bit. Then the twin gats could hunt the weaker prey. It was a tried and trusted formula; there were too many tanks out there to risk a direct engagement right off the bat. Unfortunately her concentration had lapsed and she had twitched the wheel on some rut. Now she could see that she was going over the edge into the maelstrom and there was nothing she could do about it. As the front of the car dropped she could see clear across the arena and the vehicles that were converging on her position. In salesroom condition, Light 4 was no pushover, but some of its armour had been stripped in earlier bouts. The voyager was still relatively well armoured, but it wouldn't stand up to a repeated pounding from an AT gun or HMG and Rodriguez had stupidly driven them down the throats of at least two of them. Sanchez had his feet on the dash to stop himself sliding forward when they hit and Rodriguez was strapped in anyway as she only had one good arm and couldn't just grab a bulkhead when it all went wonky. The drop wouldn't kill them, but it would put them somewhere they could be killed rather than the usual plan of heading safely out of the conflict ready to set up another jump or a zoom and boom attack on rear armour. With a sickening crunch the voyager bottomed out and, leaving too much of its front armour in it's wake, headed directly at the nearest opponent. There would be time for tactics later, now just giving them a good pounding to knock their guns off target was the safest plan. As the tank slid into their front arc, Sanchez squeezed off a smooth burst. Nothing happened. He looked quickly at his display and saw that his console was still showing reds. For a moment he panicked thinking that the mafia had sabotaged the car, but he quickly discounted that as a possibility. This was Wraith's own vehicle; Theresa wouldn't have let it out of her sight. With horror he realised that Rodriguez hadn't got round to slaving the servos to his console. She had been getting increasingly erratic of late and whilst most people thought it was the drinking, Sanchez had seen her soberly doing things the hard way, actions that endangered the vehicle. He had assumed it was just some perverse macho thing, but with growing horror it dawned on him that she was looking to die in the arena and didn't care who went with her. "Damn it Rodriguez, Servos!" She looked at him lazily and winked. "Relax tiger, there's only half a dozen of us out here, there's no need to hurry." She flicked a switch and his console lit up green. It was too late to hit the tank as it flashed by, but the Stalker following was a plumb. He gave it a burst as Rodriguez jinked across it and whilst they took some fire, they were soon safely out the other side. Rodriguez twitched the wheel and brought number 4 around to strafe the opponents again. They were soon in rhythm, steady thwacks as the light Gatling rounds systematically chewed off the thick armour, racking up the points. Soon the stalker was turning away to chase one of the other blues that had emerged behind them. They stitched it as it went past and Sanchez idly wondered if Cursed Erath was one of the gangs that had declared they wouldn't honour a resignation. The only one he was sure of was Cobra's and he didn't blame them. As a result he'd deliberately avoided any scraps that they were part of. Sanchez relaxed a little as he predicted some gentle nibbling and then out and around. They had suffered worse damage and come out victorious before. Rodriguez was an ornery cuss, but she was no fool. There'd been plenty of time for her to get herself killed and she hadn't done it yet. At that moment some more blues shot out of the underpass. Two broke left and joined the fur ball in front of them, the third cut directly across them and was probably chasing the Stalker. The blues now outnumbered the nearest reds and Sanchez hoped it would take the heat off. Suddenly, in a hail of hits from all directions, he saw that the blue chomper that had cut across had turtled trying to make the turn. It was still firing, so hopefully it might contribute to a blue victory yet, but another blue was now a smoking wreck and had resigned. The AT guns were making a real mess of the blue team and Sanchez began to think that it would be all up to them. Rodriguez aimed for the gap between the oncoming tanks and used the dead blue as cover. They took some hits to the front which was understandable, but somehow they were loosing their right armour. With shock Sanchez realised it was coming from the Stalker that had run past them. He had failed to take account that most of the opponents had weapons fore and aft and being in the enemy six was not safe. Currently the stalker was scoring regular hits and their side was almost breached. His mind stopped calculating points and struggling not to panic he hollered at Rodriguez. "The Stalker to our right rear, close it down." When the car didn't immediately twitch left as anticipated, he glanced at Rodriguez who was smiling lopsidedly. "I'm coming baby..." Then she slumped forward and Sanchez could see the gaping hole in the left side armour and the spray of blood. She rolled sideways as he tried to grab the wheel and he saw the ragged hole in the side of her head and he knew it was all over, they were playing for their lives now. If she was really lucky Leroy might still be able to save her, but they had to get her out soon. Struggling to control the car he desperately reached across to the "Chicken" button that would alert all drivers that he had resigned. He managed to weave past the two reds that were engaged in a fight to the death with the last upright blue, the turtle still firing when anything crossed its limited arcs. He headed to the outfield in case a random collision on a weak side inadvertently killed them both, but he was confident that it would be over soon. The car shuddered again as something heavy hit his rear armour. With a sinking feeling he realised that the Stalker was disregarding his surrender and was pursuing. He could barely steer with the slumped driver in his way and he reluctantly shoved her as far over as he could. Desperately trying to keep the ruined side from the Stalker he prayed that the remaining blue surrendered soon. Once one team surrendered the automatic safeties would cut in and even the Stalker would be forced to stop. "Kill him, you idiots. How hard can it be..." The ruined engine strained but the Stalker was making up the distance fast. Soon the rear armour was paper thin and Sanchez caught some fragments. Over the pain he saw the Stalkers driver smiling as he angled his vehicle to sideswipe number 4. All the time the gunner grinned manically as he poured murderous fire into his helpless prey. Sanchez jerked as more fire chewed through the car and fragments pierced his arm and gut, he could see that Rodriguez was dead and now his only prayer was that he could live. He started frantic bargaining with the almighty. He'd gladly accept a disfigurement, even an amputation, but please God let him live. As the darkness, noise and panic closed about him he lost control of his bowels. **** When Theresa arrived to collect Number 4, the Cursed Earth team were lounging near it. The Mafia were close by so, despite the threatening gestures, Theresa felt safe enough. They couldn't attack her here; there were some niceties to be observed. They restricted themselves to gesturing and jeering. "You might need to hose it out before you use it again." She ignored them as best she could and hitched the car up to the pickup. The corpses of Rodriguez and Sanchez were laid out as decently as Leroy could manage. He waited for her in the driver seat his shotgun slung across his knee ready, the engine running. When she was done she headed over to the passenger side but found a Mafioso barring her way. What the hell did he want? He smiled thinly and held up a small packet which she took with a raised eyebrow. "It’s their winnings, just over nine grand. Pretty good and it only cost you two dead and a wrecked car." Fighting the urge to spit in his face she climbed aboard the pickup. Without a word Leroy gunned the engine and they lurched away ignoring the Cursed Earth gangers jeering in their rear view mirror. "Hey, maybe if we sent your boss two hundred big ones, he'd send us the rest of your bloated corpses. He can keep his collection of scrap cars!" ......................... vet wv raceL1 deathrceL1 Posted Jan 12, 2012, 8:32 pm Last edited Jan 12, 2012, 8:47 pm by Iron Wraith

Iron Wraith Iron Wraiths Darkwind Guru Civs Faction Group: Members Posts: 818 Joined: Feb 2, 2009 Carl Bulger sat with his gunner Ginger Day in what was left of their vehicle. They had driven it back to the compound after another successful if a little rough run at Double Down. The young mutant listened attentively to the musings of the farm more experienced scout. "Ok, you did good out there today. Nearly twenty grand for first place more than offsets the damage we suffered chasing down the other Cursed Earth vehicle. That was my decision and in retrospect may not have been so smart, but we are supposed to be hibernating again and they can't expect these vehicles to come back without a scratch. Don't worry if John makes a fuss, it will be me who takes the flak." He checks to make sure they cannot be overheard. "As to our other objective, we didn't get him this time, but he's going to be on the circuit again soon, it's only a matter of time. It's a shame that the other two were dealt with by someone else, but they are dead and that's all that really matters. You can't be sure a minor injury we inflicted didn't contribute to their deaths or will mean our man doesn't get chopped pushing his luck. Maybe it's better to contribute to a non-attributable death anyway..." He tailed off and Ginger scratched angrily at a flea in her fur. The social niceties didn't bother her that much, if Cursed Earth were ignoring resignations why couldn't Wraiths reciprocate in kind. 'Long John' had forbidden it as he was worried about the townies, but they were just sheep. If you were at war, then you should be fighting a damn war, not trying to play nicely with the people who had gunned down three of your people in cold blood. Rip their throats out first chance you get and eat their heart while the blood was still coursing hot if you could. Carl thought she was playing up to the wolf girl stereotype for effect, but Ginger was finding it increasingly difficult to control her rage of late. The bloodline had something to do with it, but mostly it was the Zerk. She knew she had a problem and genuinely wished she could say she wanted to kick the habit, but truth be told the endorphin rush was her life now. Zerk, the bloodline and a heavy machine gun made a wild ride that was just too much fun to give up. With a start she realised that Carl had resumed his musings and she dutifully tried to focus on what he was saying. "... and every car of theirs we damage and every wound we inflict pays back a little, even if we have to follow the party-line... Oh here's Long John for a post-fight debrief. Why don't you get something to eat Ginger." With no real desire to listen to the two old-timers jawing about how things were "in the olden days". Ginger eagerly bailed out and bounded off. Long John watched her go and then dropped into the gunners chair next to Carl. "Hmm, bit rough today?" Carl grinned. "Always is boss. Those Desert Tanks will chew you a new one if you let them get on your case." Long John glanced across at the scout. He'd been with Wraiths a long time and Frazier knew he'd been good friends with Rodriguez and he had driven Sanchez a few times. He had to feeling that time was creeping up on him and that his time was running out. Long John looked across to the recently departed gunner who was guzzling down food like she hadn't eaten in days. "Yeah, been meaning to talk to you about that. You had the event all sewed up, yet you chose to chase that no-hoper in the tank. Word is that you could have stayed out of his way until the klaxon went and still been way ahead. Aubrey tells me that you could have resigned and you were so far out in front that you still would have easily placed first. Instead you get the car shot up so much that it's not much use to anyone else. Now why would a fella do that I wonder?" Carl looked blankly ahead. "You got an issue with the way I win events Rene?" Long John noted the familiarity. Usually everyone called him Long John or Boss. The youngsters when overawed would say "Mr. Frazier". Carl was reminding him that he had been around long enough to be an equal. Long John couldn't argue, Carl had won his spurs running to Gateway in an unarmed Spirit. It was a calculated gamble that Wraiths had favoured for running mail back when they had bought into the whole sustainable economy thing. Rene had come to grief on that self-same run in the self same vehicles when he had stupidly tried to use a damaged bridge. The car had got hung up on a stray girder and Rene had lost his leg and the car when the bandits caught up. Since then he had spent far more time driving a desk than Carl. Carl had nothing to prove. "No Carl, a win is a win and as long as you come back alive and make a profit I won't complain. Nice work by the way. As you say there were too many tanks out there for comfort. Unlucky that Cursed Earth that they found themselves under your guns so often." Seeing Carl wasn't going to bite he changed the subject. "How'd the kid do? I been hearing she's got the blood lust, lost it in a death race recently firing wild. Anger could be dangerous just now; we need to be very careful about honouring resignations at the moment. It would be a pity if someone was too fired-up to notice and wound up the town again just as they are easing up." It was a simple fact of life. The town had been up in arms in the days following the incident, a subscription list had gone round to raise a bounty and there was a tin on the bar for contributions at Dexter’s. It was hard to keep up that level of bile though. Unless you were a repeat offender things were bound to calm down. When the second subscription had gone round a week or so ago, they managed to raise half as much. Jake had been huffy and refused service at first, but with Wraiths regularly running scouts with rentals, he couldn't afford to turn down the business. John had cannily ramped up the equipment maintenance recently as well and the extra money running into his coffers from that couldn't be ignored. Dexter had flat refused to serve Wraiths for a few days, but the loss of Rodriguez and her coterie of drunks clearly hurt his profits and the tin on the bar disappeared within days. He had recently lifted the ban for all but Alicia and Shane, it had come too late for Rodriguez who had died the night before, but at least Wraiths had been able to hold a wake. When Alicia and Shane had returned from the wilderness with a bandit scalp he had sent a flask across to the lockup for the traditional thank you drink. Relations were definitely thawing. It had gone quiet and so Long John made to leave. He closed the door and as he was walking away he threw a comment over his shoulder. "It seems that just one of the Cursed Earth murderers is still alive. I hate loose ends like that, right Carl..?" ......................... vet wv raceL1 deathrceL1 Posted Jan 13, 2012, 6:23 pm Last edited Jan 18, 2012, 7:14 pm by Iron Wraith

Iron Wraith Iron Wraiths Darkwind Guru Civs Faction Group: Members Posts: 818 Joined: Feb 2, 2009 Leroy London wiped the soil from his hands and stepped away from the three new graves at the base of a small daisy covered hill in the Somerset Farmlands. The sound of gunfire filled the air as the honour party fired a ragged salute. There was a brief pause, some uncertain shuffling and then someone decided that the ceremony was over and people began to drift away. He waited as those that had attended remounted their vehicles. Long John looked across to him but he shook his head. He was expecting company. Long John nodded understanding and made his way back to his own ride. Leroy sat at the base of the windmill that guarded the traditional burial site for Wraiths in the last few years. He had a shotgun in case some critter came along and he could always seek shelter in the mill itself if necessary. He didn't have anything to steal so he wasn't worried about bandits, well, other than Manhunters that was. He subconsciously shifted the gun to a more readily accessible position. He couldn't hit the mill at 20 paces, but he hoped he looked like he wasn't worth the hassle. The sound of engines faded and the orange dust settled down until there was nothing to show anyone had been here. The sun glared down and he moved round to make sure he stayed in the mill's shadow. The last thing he needed was a dose of the grip. He sat and listened to the wind and the gentle hissing of shifting dunes. At times Evan could be quite beautiful and even peaceful. Not anywhere there were cars or people or wildlife of course, but there were occasional moments of peace even here. He sat a good hour. He began to wonder if he had made a mistake and was dreading the long walk back. Then across the dunes came the faint but unmistakeable rumble of a four litre. Overlaid and intertwined was the drone of a smaller engine, irregular coughs indicating that it wasn't in top condition. Before long the low slung shapes of a pair of beaten up Phoenixes were close enough for him to see the markings. One was a rental, the other a bandit. The bandit was in worse condition, but that didn't necessarily prove anything. He tensed keeping out of sight, but before long he was relived to make out the occupants and his hand relaxed its vice like grip on his gun. He was relieved on three counts. Alicia and Shane wanted to pay their respects, which showed remorse. They were in a rental returning from a successful scout which meant atonement. Finally and most importantly it meant he would be getting a lift home. He stepped out from cover once the drivers had disembarked and had made their way over to the graves. He left his gun propped against the mill and moved carefully, approaching from the front to prevent any mistakes. "I hoped you would show." Shane looked chastened and Alicia sorrowful as they stood wringing their hands in front of the victims of their folly. They acknowledged his presence, but didn't reply. Shane read the names on the markers, out loud but probably to himself. He shook his head. "I never meant this to happen, I never thought..." And then he was crying, big bold bandit-killer that he was. Crying over some alcoholic, harridan who never had a good word for anyone, a gun crazed sociopath who didn't get "people" and some kid who had been recruited only the day before and who no-one knew anything about. Alicia moved over to him and hugged him. He automatically hugged her back. Leroy could see there was something accustomed there, more than just a team then. How long before one of them was standing in this self same spot looking at the grave of the other, grieving for another no-account life cut short. He shook his head and turned away. After a long while they came over and joined him. They seemed more composed and he gestured at the bandit vehicle and tried to sound cheerful. "I see you've been busy." Shortt was more animated now. "Yeah, there were two of them, some sort of Mercenary with HMGs up front and this one with a couple of MGs front and later we discovered one in the tail as well. They chewed on us some before we shook them off and Alicia found us some high ground." Leroy glanced over to the spoiled Phoenix. Its roof was a gaping hole. He was limited combat experience was based on the Somerset arenas, and he hadn't ever been in the position to target an opponents roof. He understood it was a recommended method of ensuring a quick kill whilst ensuring there was something to drive home afterward. He feigned curiosity. "And the Mercenary?" "Oh, we shot him up good. We might have managed to finish him, but we ran out of ammunition. His engine was smoking, so I'm not sure there would have been much to salvage even if we'd pulled it off, I had to cave in the side of the car as well as the roof. In the end we just took off and this one decided to follow. The Merc couldn't keep up and suddenly this guy realised he was on his own. Must've been a shock as he just up and surrendered. If he'd known we only have 1 burst left in the MMG it might have turned out different." Alicia looked at her by now beaming partner, some hint of pride in her own face. Leroy nodded outwardly approving, but in his heart he felt dread. They had left with an extra magazine for the MMG representing 40 seconds of continuous fire. On a good day the top armour of bandits might have stood up to five seconds maximum, maybe 10 seconds for the two of them. Most of the ammunition had clearly been wasted. Shane might be good in the close up of an arena fight, but at long range stuff he was clearly hopeless. They had been very lucky, next time they wouldn't be and they wouldn't be coming back. Two more graves and nothing learned. Covering his depression he gestured in the direction of Somerset and the lengthening shadows. "Any chance of a life back to town?" ......................... vet wv raceL1 deathrceL1 Posted Jan 18, 2012, 7:12 pm

Iron Wraith Iron Wraiths Darkwind Guru Civs Faction Group: Members Posts: 818 Joined: Feb 2, 2009 They had been on three scouts to date. In the first, against the odds, they had actually managed to bring home a trophy. The overconfidence that had resulted caused them to loose badly on the next trip. They had escaped the bandits themselves relatively unharmed, but had almost walked into a giant spider in one of the abandoned towns on the way back. They had quickly ducked behind a building and set up in preparation for the spiders attack. When nothing happened they had a peek and noticed that it was busy with something. Alicia thought it might be a corpse, but Shane wasn't anxious to check. After a while of hesitation, wondering what to do, Shane exclaimed he had heard you could find good stuff in refuse and had decided to go rummaging in a nearby junk pile. After moving round to keep the building between themselves and the distracted arachnid, Alicia had reluctantly stood guard with her rifle. She had been trying to get him to stop messing about when unfortunately he had found a battered old sword. As he gleefully capered around declaring he was King Arthur she realised that he wouldn't be dissuaded from searching more thoroughly. Unnoticed more spiders, probably attracted by the noise, had stealthily approached from behind and it was pure luck that Alicia happened to turn and found herself within yards of poisoning death. Shouting for Shane to help she began firing. Her first shot drilled the nearest spider through its ganglion and it rolled onto it's back with its legs curling up. Buoyed by her success she continued firing calmly bringing down several of the beasts until Shane woke up to the situation and staggered back weighed down with another shotgun as well as the sword. They had made good their escape when even more spiders had started showing up. When they had got back without their rental Long John hadn't seemed worried. When Leroy had complained that he knew this would happen, they were too inexperienced to go out alone; John had calmly shaken his head. He had asked where else they would get experience if not actually in a fight. Leroy had protested more, each argument being calmly deflected until he finally burst out that it cost over seventeen grand to rent a vehicle just to gift it to the bandits. Aubrey had absent-mindedly corrected him saying that it was only the five grand deposit that had been lost as the rest was written off as soon as the car drove off the fore-court. Leroy had stood fuming for a few second and then red in the face he had screamed something about "let them get killed then, see if I care" and stormed off. It was strange behaviour and the rest had watched in silence until Hans Sollars had asked to see the sword. It broke the ice and after that there were many general enquiries about their trip and swapping of war stories. Soon it had degenerated into a sort of coming home party as everyone seemed glad to see them back. Alicia had been expecting Rodriguez to spoil it as usual until she remembered that she was dead. In a way she managed to spoil it from beyond the grave and Alicia had begged off so she could get to the hospital as she was still lacerated from the fight. Long John had accompanied her and it was then that he had suggested five grand for a sword was pretty steep and perhaps they should both be more careful next time. Alicia hadn't thought about a next time, but the mention of it brought a frisson of excitement and she realised that she was hooked. This time they had been unlucky and had been jumped by a pair of Phoenixes. Alicia had done her best to get away and had even managed to get the high ground that had been the key to their success last time. Unfortunately Shanes shooting had been off again and they had found themselves reversing down a slope being pursued by a Biter. The constant barrage of MMG and MG was bad enough when it was chewing up their front, but once they hit the dip at the bottom it all started coming through the roof. With the Badlander closing in, they had wisely decided to call it a day. The bandits had been so pleased that their catch was largely intact, that they had even given them some hooch "for the road". The road had wound toward another windblown ghost town. Alicia was all for skirting it, but Shanes eyes had gleamed piratically and he had just whispered "treasure" before scampering off in the direction of the ruins. Alicia followed, her initial reluctance quickly displaced by anticipation. After a carefully planned and executed snake hunt, they had managed to secure some useful goodies from a pile of junk outside town. It had nearly gone wrong when Alicia had been concentrating so hard on watching Shanes back that she neglected her own. Fortunately the hissing of the snake alerted her just in time and she snapped round and plugged it before she had mentally registered its presence. She'd kept a wary out from then on. Shane had suggested skinning the snakes as trophies and maybe eating one of them to keep their strength up. To give her aching leg a rest she had agreed and they had holed up inside the shell of one of the ruins where they would be fairly safe. They pulled some scrap wood over the narrow entrance and made a fire with the small stuff. As he worked on the fire, she let him burble on in his half-inane way. He had wondered how the "treasure" piles accumulated and complained that the critters just spoiled it. Alicia had been dumbfounded that he hadn't made the connection and gently pointed out the presence of human remains and snake droppings in the pile might be a clue. It had taken a moment for Shane to put two and two together. The look on his face when he did so made her laugh out loud and for a moment he had made her forget that they were on an octane fuelled ride to oblivion, he had a habit of doing that. She had looked over to him again and made a decision that she'd been mulling over for days. She was on him before he even noticed her stealthy approach and his resistance crumbled within seconds of her determined assault. He was no fighter, it only remained to be seen how he measured up as a lover. She had woken after a short doze with a blinding headache and recognised the after effects of heavy exertion under the Aurora. Shane was sitting in the corner facing away from her busy fiddling with the remains of a snake. When he'd heard her groan of pain he'd turned and grinned holding up a bloody mess of an uncured snakeskin hat. They had wandered back grinning like idiots in their ludicrous get up and even the normally hostile gate guard had just rolled their eyes and let them in. As soon as they were through the gate they opened the bottle of rotgut and tried it. It was no worse than they'd expected and letting their guard slip they'd drained it between them then and there. *** Alicia Terwilliger and Shane Shortt crept up to the Iron Wraith lockup alternately hissing, then giggling and shushing one another. Both were the worse for wear, bloodied from combat, dizzy from the radiation, tired from the long walk back and grubby from rummaging in scrap piles. Their appearance was rendered macabre by the snake skins with which they had decorated their boots and jackets. Shane wore a severed snake head as a sort of mask, peeping out the open mouth, and the matted blood had congealed blackly in his hair and face. The stench of the decaying flesh competed with the general odour of rot from the junk pile and the reek of the rot gut with which they had celebrated their latest "victory". Inside the Wraiths lockup there was the usual gloomy meeting going on. Alicia detected a faint aroma of smoke and charred meat. "Mmmmm, barbeque. I'm starving." Shane whispered that if there was going to be a party, maybe it was time to liven things up. Adjusting his hood he counted from three silently on his fingers and together he and Alicia burst in. Alicia cheered while Shane capered yelling to announce their arrival. "Behold the prodigal wanderers, Snake Hunters, Treasure seekers. We bring you gifts from the wilderness and crave your attention and your indulgence." The stony silence and looks of outrage that greeted the outburst was unexpectedly harsh and Shane was about to upbraid them for being stuffy when he heard Alicia gasp. He turned and saw her go pale and then throw up, the combination of radiation, rot-gut and her own misguided hunger pangs. He turned to see where she was looking and groaned as he made out the two corpses laid out on the table, the almost headless Carl Bulger and, the source of the smell, the charred remains of Geraldine Patrick his gunner. ......................... vet wv raceL1 deathrceL1 Posted Jan 19, 2012, 7:09 pm

Iron Wraith Iron Wraiths Darkwind Guru Civs Faction Group: Members Posts: 818 Joined: Feb 2, 2009 Long John unclipped the strap on his prosthetic leg and eased back into his customary seat. He closed his eyes while the familiar tingle built and then subsided as the twisted nerve endings in his stump settled down. When he opened them a few minutes later Alicia was standing in front of him with a cup of coffee in her hand. Alicia had been out of sorts since the wake a few days ago and had been avoiding him. Some of the others had been a bit huffy about her and Shane’s behaviour of late but Frazier was sure that it was the influence of the unstable Shortt that had caused the previously reliable scout to drift off true. She bent down and handed him the cup. Frazier sensed trouble, beware gangers bearing gifts. Reluctantly he gestured to the comfortable "interview" seat he kept close. Alicia bobbed her thanks and sat down, perched on the edge of the canvas and metal camp chair. For several minutes she said nothing. Long John had learned that sometimes it was best to just sit and wait in the silences. The young felt the need to fill it up and these unguarded outbursts were often far more revealing than a pre-planned interrogation. The silence lengthened. Alicia kept her gaze down, her faltering courage threatening to collapse at any moment. He mouth was dry and she wanted to just run away and hide, but there were things she needed to say before anyone else died. Her eyes fell on Frazier’s single remaining foot and she reflexively looked at where the missing lower leg should be. Frazier’s leg ended abruptly just below his knee. His sock was pulled up over the stumps and halfway up his thigh to provide some protection. Realizing she was staring she quickly averted her gaze upward and found Frazier had dropped his head to catch her eye. Suddenly finding herself eye-to-eye disconcerted her enough to displace the fear. It was time to speak her mind. "Long John, I don't know what to do. We agreed to your suggestion to work our ticket, and at first i thought it would work out. We bagged a bandit, everyone seemed to ease up a little and we felt we were putting something back. Lately though that hasn't been the case. We've lost two rentals, been jumped by all manner of wildlife and then we go and mess up Carl and Geraldine’s wake. You were right, we wouldn't have made it to Gateway but staying here doesn't seem too good an idea either. Five people have died so far because of Shane and countless others have been hurt... I don't know what to do?" Frazier studied the young woman. He had known her as a wet-behind the ears kid who'd had trouble keeping her ride together on the milk runs to and from camp. In time she'd got to be quite a competent driver, but she was still green with regard to combat. The word was also that Shane was a pretty poor gunner and that made a poor combination on a bandit hunt. He reflected on the fact that she had said "because of Shane", until now there had been a collective responsibility. The word was that she'd been the gunslinger that had got her and her gunner back to civilization through critter territory, while Shortt's contribution had been looking for trouble by looting junk piles. Had she finally realised that Shortt was a liability. She wouldn't be the first. During the rest of the wake, after the incident, Alicia had gone far too quiet and Long John had gone to speak to Leroy to see if he had anything useful to suggest. Unexpectedly the medic had pulled him aside and hissed some very unhelpful suggestions at him. Frazier had left it at that, drunken rants from subordinates were best ignored even if they couldn't be forgotten. The next day sure enough Leroy had come back and apologised. Rather than just let obvious frustration eat the man up Frazier had asked him whether there was anything he should know. After rather more time than he could cheerfully endure he had eventually managed to coax Leroy into speaking plainly. The medic had expressed his concerns that the punishment was unhelpful. There was little evidence that it was making a blind bit of difference to the townsfolk as whilst a bandit scalp would raise the profile of Wraiths, continually loosing rentals was bound to be detrimental. Annoyed Frazier had asked Leroy to stick to his medical opinions and leave matters of policy to those who were better placed to decide them. A chastened Leroy had then explained that from his viewpoint he was concerend that Shane was becoming more erratic, while Alicia looked like she was starting to drift toward the same behaviour, doubtless led astray by Shane. As evidence he had asked whether Long John would have anticipated behaviour from her such as that demonstrated at the wake. Frazier had to admit that her behaviour was indeed becoming erratic. Remembering she was waiting for a response Frazier steepled his hands. "Seems to me that you may be overestimating your importance in this whole matter. Sure the town folks were riled, but they're calming down and nobody died from it. There were beatings for sure, but if you can't take a beating you might as well get some kind soul to end it all for you. Every single one of them that died in the arena went in voluntary, the last three against my specific instructions... well maybe Carl and Geraldine may have thought otherwise... that ain't important. Truth is kid, we all have choices in this world and most of us that come to harm do so by our own choices. Sure life will throw us a curve ball, but it's how we respond to the curve ball that defines us. Hell, you don't see me moping about my missing leg do ya?" Alicia made to reply, but Frazier could see that it wasn't quite the right time. She was still timid, he needed her riled up if he were to break the melancholy that would see her dead in the dust before much longer. The gang needed to prosper not merely survive. To do that every member had to buy into the dream of self-improvement. To ensure they could, no-one could be turned away, everyone had to be given a chance to shine and keep getting chances until they either died trying or they succeeded. He decided to up the ante. "So you've been out into the wilderness and it ain't turned out ideal. Well boo-hoo missy-britches, cry me a damn river. I got plenty of dead friends who would have loved to be in the position of coming home alive at all. Given the choice, frankly there's a good few I'd trade for you a dozen times over. Ain't gonna happen though, they're dead and you ain't. Do something about it if'n ya want, but stop blubbin' about how hard it all is. Cowboy the hell up girl and get your hysterics in check." Frazier winced a little at the final comment, it was a cheap shot. He had once said something similar to Rodriguez and she had laid him out flat. She never said anything about it again and he had wisely kept his council. He looked up and was pleased to see a similar furious look from Terwilliger, the cringing mouse had gone. He braced himself in-case she reacted in the same way and then remembered that she was the gunslinger. He sincerely hoped he hadn't gone too far. With relief he watched her turn on her heel and storm out of the lockup. The words she hollered over her shoulder as she left eased his mind a little. "Can someone in this band of halfwits find me a halfway decent gunner? Shane's in his sick bed and there's loot to be had!" Before john closed his eyes for his afternoon nap, he caught Leroy's eye and winked. ......................... vet wv raceL1 deathrceL1 Posted Jan 31, 2012, 6:42 pm

Iron Wraith Iron Wraiths Darkwind Guru Civs Faction Group: Members Posts: 818 Joined: Feb 2, 2009 Alicia Terwillger and Bubbles Johnson stood defiantly in front of their aquisition from their latest scout operation. Long John Frazier sat off to one side, resting his stump and overseeing the audit being conducted by Aubrey Zamora. Zamora was first to speak. "That's it, that's all you have to show for your efforts and our expenditure?" Terwilliger shifted uncomfortably. Her eyes moved down to the small pile of four tires and back up to John's face. He was finding it hard to keep a straight face. As the scout leader she had made the decisions and with success she was happy to reap the Kudos, now she figured she would have to accept the shame. It was a paltry haul to be sure. John eventually spoke. "Why don't you tell us what happened?" Alicia reluctantly started to describe the event that led them to their current situation. Bubbles had done her job as well as could be expected. They had found a couple of Phoenixes, a Biter and a Chaser, just outside the gates of Somerset. Trusting to her experience Terwilliger had climbed an escarpment ready to fire from above, only to see the two bandits turn and hare off. By the time she had worked her way back to face them, they were rapidly heading out of range. She had pursued them thinking to set up on an lower outcrop. Unfortunately she mis-judged her speed and rolled over the edge. When she regained control the two bandits had turned and were heading her way. Frantically searching for a way to get back the advantage, she had headed up a twisting pass between the dunes. If it hadn't been for the 4 litre in the rental she'd have taken far more than the half dozen hits to the sides and back. She had kept her nerve and it soon became clear the bandits had sacrificed long term position for short term targetting. She was able to slip away from them without too much trouble as they drifted wide and she headed for a hillock that she'd heard the old timers talking about. In her wake the bandits were tripping over each other trying to get back on her tail and the Biter was having trouble keeping up. She found the hill and slewed the car round to start the long crawl up it. If she was having trouble then the slower car would probably be unable to follow allowing them to concentrate on the faster car while it was moving as slowly as she was. The seniors had said that the recoil from a solid burst would often send a bandit to the bottom forcing them to make the long crawl again. Both bandits had their teeth up front and you could get quite close to the sides and rear without danger if it was unable to turn back to you because it had begun to slide downhill. If you were very lucky it would roll onto it's roof helpless. Her memory drifted back a few weeks to her last scout with Shane. Then she had been the one sliding helplessly backward while the bandit pounded her armour with impunity. Apparently the old gezers had been using the Voyagers with OR tyres and had been nimble as mountain goats. The rental had the power, but the road tires were making heavy work of the climb and the bandits were closing in before she had found her spot. Bubbles patiently set up her sights and they waited just over the rise for the bandits to move into their killing zone. As soon as she acquired the Chaser, the MMG began its deadly chatter. With nothing much to do except keep the gun platform steady, Alicia took the opportunity to work out her escape route if it turned out the bandits could make the climb together. With three guns against the single gun in the rental it would be a very different fight and it would likely be the good guys who ended up being shifted about by the enemy firepower. If they jumped up even a foot or two, there was the risk that the underbody would become exposed and that could become quickly fatal. Her reverie was interrupted by hits coming in from the front and with shock she realised that she had allowed her position to drift forward where she was vulnerable from the ground. Bubbles was cursing under her breath and had apparently had little success. Against logic, the Biter was the one making it's way up the hill, and the Chaser for some reason seemed incapable of making the climb. Alicia slipped the car into reverse and released the handbrake turning the wheel just enough to swing the fast car into Bubbles' front arc. Bubbles switched target and when the nose of the Biter peeped over the crest, her rounds started to tell. Unfortunately the bandit was in just as good a position and he had the advantage of a second gun. The front was getting very battered and Alicia wondered whether she had fouled up again. With relief she saw the Biter begin to slide back, the recoil from it's own weapons were adding their effect to the fire it was receiving, and whilst the recoil backed Alicia further up the hill, the bandit had only one way to go. Bubbles was cursing and changing her magazine and was unable to take advantage of the Biters enforced stall turn. Alicia sat up in her seat and saw that the Chaser, despite several runs, wasn't able to get sufficient traction. She breathed a sigh of relief. With care they should be able to deal with the slowly crawling Biter and, when it was wholly out of action, focus on the Chaser. She pulled the rental back a little to prevent the Chaser getting a free shot and Bubbles soon reported she was ready again. It was fairly predictable after that. The Biter would creep up into their field of fire and they would exchange shots at very short range. The Biter would recoil and slide and this time Bubbles was able to take advantage and hit it in the flank. After a while, the Biter stopped moving, a gaping hole in it's left side. Unsure of the status of the crew and without a clear indication of a wish to surrender Bubbles was forced to keep pouring fire into the smoking wreck. As her guns ran dry for the second time, someone fell out of the hole in the side. They were clearly very dead. Alicia saw the Chaser change its position and start to run. She had a choice, she could either let it go and slavage what was left of the Biter, or chase it down and risk loosing the Biter to critters. Looking at the wreck she decided she'd rather have a chance of something than a guarantee of nothing. Bubbles reloaded their last magazine and Alicia took off after the Chaser. She was begining to think she had made the wrong choice as it took far too long to get up to speed. She was worried she would loose him when, in panic, he drove slam into a dune wall. Laughing they closed the gap. The laughter stopped as a burst of HMG fire crossed their front. Alicia had forgotten that the bandit hadn't really been involved in the fight on the hill, and had only fired a few rounds fired into her flank and rear as they negotiated the pass. He probably had over a dozen rounds left and her front armour was badly gnawed. She turned off to try to throw his aim. After jinking she stole a look behind her and saw that the bandit wasn't persuing, his fire had been instinctive as they crossed his arc. He was still very much intent on escape and was high-tailing it across the dunes towards the road. Alicia knew that once on the road his tyres would have far better traction and he could well loose her, the Biter was out of sight now and she could end up with nothing to show for her trip. She decided to cut corners and whilst she made up the distance, the front and underbody armour took rather more dinks than she was happy with. Rather than risk running dry Bubbles was conserving her fire until she was sure it would tell. She was also concentrating on the damaged left flank as much as possible. They headed up and down the road, twisting and jinking but eventually Alicia pulled parallel to the Chaser and turning in Bubbles was able to rake it with a three second burst. The rental slid gently into the left side of the Chaser, the muzzle of the gun almost sitting on the drivers lap. Had he known the gun was dry he might have continued, but fortunately he threw his hands up in surrender. They shut the crew in the boot while Alicia patrolled up the only loot she was able to salvage, four Off-road tyres. She stowed the tyres in the boot space where the magazines had been and only then did she opened the boot to let them out. She reminded them of the rule of the road, and handed him their unloaded handguns, while Bubbles covered from the car. Somerset was only a few hundred yards away, but they would probably have a longer walk before they found a friendly haven. Bubbles had asked why they let them keep their weapons and not just kill them and Alicia had explained that if the Bandits knew they would be shot on surrender, there would be no incentive to surrender. There was also the hope that they would reciprocate. She pointed to the the ammunition she had left on the drivers seat and ran for the car before they could reload. She needn't have bothered, they sauntered over to their car and sat in their smoking wreck. They were going to head back to where they'd left the Biter, but there was no sign of it and the bandits behaviour led Alicia to suspect that they were expecting reinforcements. With nothing better to do and nothing to do it with, she headed back to town. "And that's the way it happened." Long John shrugged. "Shame about the Biter, you might have been able to salvage the guns if most of the damage was to the side. Then again, there are no guarantees." He nodded to Aubrey. "You said once that the only cost we worried about with a rental was the five grand deposit." Aubrey winced. "Don't forget the cost of the two spare magazines, and technically we should be looking at the opportunity cost of not having the rental available for another scout, but that is harder to quantify..." He trailed off at a look from Long John. His accountancy training was valuable to the gang, but he had to rein it in as no-one else seemed quite as interested in it all as him. He scowled at Alicia and Bubbles. "Whichever way you cut it, we have paid well over five grand for four off-road tires." Alicia shrank a little more. John smiled at her. "But you rid the world of a bandit and the others that were wounded might be out of action for a while, or at least won't be as effective. The town is back on side with us now and the equivalent training would have cost us quite a bit..." He winked at Aubrey. "Not to mention the opportunity cost of having a couple of more skilled gangers earlier than would have been the case." He slid off the bonnet of the car he had been using as a seat, wincing slightly at the jarring in his prosthetic. "OK girls, not the most profitable scout ever, but not the worst either. Next time you'll be better, at least now you are making sure you are the ones at the top of the hill rather than the bottom. Go get some shut eye." Dismissing them he turned to Aubrey and put an arm round his shoulder. "So Mr. Numbers, how many more like that can we do before we go bankrupt?" Aubrey raised his eyes to the heavens and did a quick calculation. "About 200... assuming we make no more income from eventing and that we ignore the value of any loot gained? The trend is that we are increasing our cash reserve though." John laughed as he walked back to the lockup. "Ok, let's start worrying when we get down to our last million..." ......................... vet wv raceL1 deathrceL1 Posted Feb 8, 2012, 10:41 pm Last edited Feb 8, 2012, 10:50 pm by Iron Wraith

Iron Wraith Iron Wraiths Darkwind Guru Civs Faction Group: Members Posts: 818 Joined: Feb 2, 2009 A month or two ago Long John Frazier had chewed out Shane Shortt for nearly bringing the whole gang down. His actions in the arena had cost the gang dear as the town had reacted angrily and begun attacking them in the streets. At the moment the reputation of the gang in the arena was down the toilet for some reason John needed to know why. There had been a mess of deaths recently and whilst some were old hands one, though clearly experienced, had only been with the Wraiths for a week. The only person who had any professional contact with them was Shane who had been out scouting. It presented an ideal opportunity for a "chat" without making it obvious that Long John was probing his usual suspect to see whether he had messed up again. It was clear to Long John that the calm young man in battered gear sitting in the chair opposite was not the same boy who had burst into a wake wearing a rotting snake carcass. Where he had been surly now he was respectful, where he had been loud and obnoxious now he was calm and personable. The most suprising thing was that he wasn't dead, that would have been John's prognosis six months ago. After a few moments silence in a "little chat" John's victims were usually blurting out apologies, but Shane sat calmly drinking tea seemingly unfazed. Eventually the unaccustomed silence got the better of John. "Hmmp, not so lucky recently Shane?" Shane raised an eyebrow and gently set down his cup. "You know how it is John. It's a dangerous world out there, people die all the time through bad luck, stupidity or both... present company excepted of course" John frowned. It had been some years since he had left the town. Bad luck or possibly stupidity had lost him a leg in the early years and recently he had been stuck behind a desk standing in for Dalton. He frowned again. Sitting in more accurately. Shane picked up his tea and took another sip apparently content for John to do the hard work. It made a change not to be dealing with a cringing whelp, but John wasn't sure it was a change for the better. He reviewed the names on his log. "Tell me about Virginia?" Shane shrugged, this time not botherting to put the tea down, but content to perch it on his crossed knee. "Not much to tell. I got bored just sitting around after the trouble blew over and I had repaid my debt as it were. I thought I should put all that hard earned knowledge and training to better use. Virginia was identified to me as a competent gunner, so I suggested we went out for a spin in a hire car. I wasn't looking for anything tough, just someone over-confident." He paused briefly and took a sip. Against his better judgement John was already drawn in. Shane's emotionless delivery was hypnotic. Over-confident would have been exactly the words John would have used about Shane right up until this interview. Somehting had definitely chnaged. Shane was smiling faintly when he continued in the same measured tone. "There were two of them... aren't there always? They were behind us, a pair of NMA cruisers, a Biter and a Badlander, neither of them a push-over, both fast and us in a rental Moose. I allowed them to ambush us in the farmlands. They clearly thought we would be a push-over. Like I say over-confident." John raised an eyebrow, "allowed them to ambush us" wasn't a phrase that came up very often, not from living people anyway. Shane smiled faintly. "As soon as they were tight on our tail, I pulled the Moose off-road and started to turn under them. The ground out there is pretty lumpy as you know and I drove us round the gullies to keep out of their sights. They may have fired some shots, but I can't remember getting hit if they did. The Antagonist is really good at that sort of thing." "Well we crested a low hill and I took stock. Desperate to catch us they made the fool error of powering after us, trading maneuverability for speed. Well as the man once said, use your enemy's strength against him. We ran along the crest a bit, by now we were behind one of them and as they tried to turn on the adverse camber we opened up. I thought we'd get one and have to turn out, but as we started the slide drubbing the one, the other fool decides to come over the top at speed." "By now his mate's armour and nerve have crumpled. We made sure he was out of it. I hate when the white flags shoot you in the back because you have forgotten them. We couldn't drive three cars home anyway so we turned him into a smoking ruin. The Car Rifle made a real mess of the crew as well." "Those guns dish out a hell of a pasting, but the recoil does really hurt you. By now I'd lost most of my speed, but at low speed the Ant will turn on a dime and just as the other one crests the hill we are lined up on him. We give him both barrels and at that range we couldn't miss. Virginia was doing fine work with the HMG, no complaints from me, cool and precise. We took a few hits to the front, but bandito's speed just carried him past us and soon we were firing flank shots and he had no way to get back in the game. It was over in seconds. We stripped what we could from the wreck, reloaded the Ant and headed back home." Shane shrugged. Despite his better judgement John enjoyed the tale. Unfortunately he only had one man's word for it and they hadn't even got to that bit. "So what happened?" Shane looked down and for the first time looked anything less than confident. "It was a real shame, I feel I let the side down. I must have overlooked something. Before I know it we were outside Somerset Gates and suddenly it's happening all over again. Two Phoenixes just to our front heading into Somerset. For a second I hoped they might just be traders, but they started turning into us." Shane shook his head. "It was the bust engine that did it. Virginia hung back in the Ant to give cover while I made a break for it in the loot car. The rental was worth at most $5000 to us and we aren't short of money, the loot car was intact other than the one side, it's magazines were almost full as well. Maybe we should have stood our ground, but with only a single gunner in each and the gates less than 200 yards away we thought we could make it." John nodded, he'd got the rest of the story from the lazy fat son's of bitches on the gates. One car had got so close you could have pushed it in but still they just sat and watched. "Well we shot one all to hell, but the other got round to the damaged armour and I couldn't turn out of it quick enough. A lucky shot into the wounded engine and it died completely. It rolled to a stop a few yards from safety. In desperation we'd overcomitted to the protection of the loot car and the Ant had suffered. We had no choice but to surrender once it got breached and had it's the engine shot out". Shane shook his fist, some part of the angry youth back. "How much work do you have to do in this place. We took out three gunships with a rental for crying out loud. What do we get for it. Zip. I get to go to hospital and have rust dug out of me and I hear Virginia get's killed before I am even well enough to have a comiseration drink with her." Shane looked at John, tears forming in his eyes. "Now I hear that Ginger is dead too." ......................... vet wv raceL1 deathrceL1 Posted Jul 23, 2012, 7:31 pm Last edited Jul 23, 2012, 7:34 pm by Iron Wraith

Iron Wraith Iron Wraiths Darkwind Guru Civs Faction Group: Members Posts: 818 Joined: Feb 2, 2009 Hans Sollars walked out of Somerset hospital to be met by the "infantry" section. Russ and Jeanette clapped him on the shoulder and rather than return to the lockup as planned, instead detoured to Dexters. Having eaten nothing but hospital slop for the last week Hans was not unwilling to wash away the tase with something that was at least described as food on a menu, even if Dexters "flavour sensations" could be a little unique. Truth be told he was also puttting off the inevitable confrontation with Long John as his excursion into the wilderness a week ago had proved less sucessful than he had hoped. It had seemed a good idea at the time. He had been completing his weekly inventory of the hand weapons stored in Number 89. Normally the stock was pretty stable, but recently there had been a few bad scouts and some scare equipment had been lost in the wilderness. They'd been issuing shotguns to new recruits in exchange for their pistols and by the time they were finished it was late, Russ and Jeanette had turned in and, anxious to show comittment, he was just cleaning and the pistols when Alicia and Bubbles had startled him. Alicia seemed excited about something and he had realised that he wasn't going to get any work done until he had let he say her piece. Bubbles had stood by quietly as he had put down the pistol he was working on and turned his attention to Alicia. "See the thing is Hans, we hired a Chaser. Well with the ammunition situation and the thing with Jake... And after that thing with Diggs... Well we had this idea..." She tailed off as the lack of understanding on Hans face finally permeated he conciousness. She waved impatiently to Bubbles and Hans quickly interjected in case a second stream of disjointed jabber ended up being added. He suspected that Alicia was on something, most of the scouts were. "Uh, why don't you sit down and start from the beginning. You know we infantry don't get out much." He smiled weakly. It was an understatement. Hans was constantly aware that his team were glorified janitors. They'd had some minor success in the paintball league but his career was quickly being overshadowed by Hilda in Gateway. The ped league was coming up soon and he knew that one event would bring in more that his who league had and Hilda was bound to place. After that his days were numbered. Alicia sat down and after taking a few calming breaths began again. Hans was relieved that she began speaking more slowly and clearly. "Ok. So we have this Chaser..." Bubbles had also joined her perched on the bonnet and filled in when Alicia started to assume too much. "It's a muscle car with a single MMG front." "Yeah, sorry cars aren't really your thing are they?" Hans expression indicated his discomfort. "That's OK, we don't need another driver...Anyway as I was saying, we don't have any spare ammunition for the car, can't buy any either. Which is bad right Bubbles!" The young mutant smiled at Hans and explained gently. "The MMG can kill a lone bandit without too much difficulty but breaching two without a reload is by no means guaranteed and they tend to come in pairs. It is embarrasing to have reduced one to a smoking ruin and then run out of ammunition before you can finish it's wingman. No loot, no glory." Hans nodded. Only the day before he had heard talk that Harry and Diggs had been in just that position. They had scared off the other bandit with hand weapon fire in the end. Unfortunately while they were starting to salvage the wreck, the bandit had come back and ended up killing Harry's gunner. Harry had been lucky to escape. "Anyyyway... No spare magazine leaves us with just enough space for a passenger." There was a pause and Hans felt he was expected to say something but was at a loss to say what. Eventually Bubbles filled in the gap. "So we were thinking, you being the infantry and all and having the best toys, maybe you would like to come out for a drive with us?" Alicia butted in her enthusiasm carrying all before it again. Yep definitely on something. "The way I see it is this... We drop you on some high ground with some heavy duty zap guns. We entice the baddies over, mess them up with the MMG as per... meanwhile you snipe their tops and fire through any gaps we make. Your support fire has to be worth at least another magazine?" Hans had been open mouthed. Were they serious. Seeing his reluctance Bubbles put her hand on Alicias shoulder and spoke gently. "Hans. You'ld be up high, if it started to go wrong, you could duck down and join us on the walk home. Most of us have done it. It isn't dangerous if you keep your head in the right place. We might even get lucky and nail them without you having to do anything. You'ld get a full share in the glory regardless, it takes guts to get outside a car." Seeing him wavering she played her ace. "Frankly of late we've been getting worried about the wildlife, it seems to be getting bigger. I'd feel safer if you were with us if we ended up walking home." Hans looked at the mutant and then at Alicia. Until that last sentence he was 100% out. It was a mad proposition. But then again... He had heard that the paint rifle could work as a supression weapon. If he pulled it off, they couldn't kick him out then, and wasn't he always saying that he just needed a chance. Well here it was. Could he really refuse? "Ok, I'm in." Alicia had actually kissed him and it made it all worth while just for that. He noticed Bubbles looking at him a little ruefully afterwards, but they'd soon forgotten in the prep for the scout. He'd asked Russ to tell Aubrey once he had left in case they forbade it. They'd roared off into the farmlands and soon picked up a tail. The conversation between Alicia and Bubbles in the front indicated they were happy they could handle the fight. He'd keyed himself up and when they pulled up alongside a hill, he'd bailed out to sprint for the top. He'd made maybe ten yards before he caught a burst of automatic fire from the closest bandit and had almost immediately passed out. Clearly the fight hadn't gone well and only Bubbles had escaped unharmed. They had begun the slow trudge home and rested up in one of the ruined towns somewhere. Alicia and Bubbles had genstured to a junk pile a suggested that as they were there, they should try and salvage something. As they had made to move off, sudden movement caught Hans eye. Before they could get their bearings half a dozen scorpions were zoning in on them. He'd done his best, but there were just too damn many of them. Alicia's wound had slowed her up and while he and bubbles fired frantically she went down to a scorpions sting. He and Bubbles had made it out alive but he was dreading a summons to Old Man Frazier. A drink slapped down in front of him brought Sollars back to the present. "Here's mud in your eye!" Once the formality of the first drink was over Russ and Jeanette started the interrogation. he fille dthem in as best he could and despite his poor performance, they seemed genuinely impressed. As he drained another of Dexters evil drinks he cast his eye round the room noting the new and old faces. Some nodded to him. With some small pride he relalised he was now officially a veteran. He'd been out of the town and faced the wilderness, shouted in it's face and come back bruised but alive. A grin slowly spread across his face and then froze as he head the clunk of a steel leg hit the floor boards behind him. He noticed in the fractional silence that Russ and Jeanette had slunk off and he turned knowing full well what awaited him. Long John's gimlet gaze skewered him like a lizard on a spit. "Been expecting you. Maybe we should take a drink over there aways. You got time for a chat?." ......................... vet wv raceL1 deathrceL1 Posted Jul 31, 2012, 10:32 pm

Iron Wraith Iron Wraiths Darkwind Guru Civs Faction Group: Members Posts: 818 Joined: Feb 2, 2009 Long John Frazier looked over at an altercation in the corner between a member of Finger3 and an unidentified ganger with a shotgun. Sub-conciously his hand dipped below the table toward the whippet configuration lever action strapped to his metal leg. Fortunately Dex was on the ball and the situation seemed to resolve itself satisfactorily after his intervention. Long John looked across the table sideways at his drinking partner. “Any idea what that was about?” Russ Brown, the de-facto Iron Wraith infantry squad leader, nodded grinning. “Part connected to our earlier talk. Finger made some moves in the paintball league that Longo took exception to.” Long John opened his eyes wide. “All this fuss I bin hearin’ ‘bout is on account of paintball? What in hootin’ hell is this world coming to? Time was someone would mess you up cos you’d been messing with their woman or wheels, and fair do’s, but Paintball!” Russ laughed. “Seems some folk need to have validation Mr. Frazier.” Long John shook his head and took another drink. Russ was amazed by the old timers ability to drink the rot gut that Dex passed off as tequila without wincing. He would probably have been surprised just how little they differed in age but Long John had been desiccated by the aurora and possibly his drinking habits and now looked a man twice his age. He put down his glass and from the open bottle on the table refilled it. He waved it toward Russ for a top-up, but the ganger declined politely. He was expecting Long John to get to the point of today’s tete-a-tete and he wanted to be lucid when the time came. Long John nodded and drained his glass again. “Wise, this stuff’ll kill you… eventually.” He toyed with his glass a little and Russ could sense that the small talk was over. He braced himself for bad news. “You know I discuss things a lot with Aubrey. Seems like your name been coming up overly frequent lately. I thought it time we had ourselves a pow-wow again.” Russ winced. The last “chat” between them had been a none too gentle admonishment for risking gang assets in “dang fool escapades”. He’d been riding passenger in a rental Chaser with Alicia and Bubbles. The plan had been to bail out and provide cover fire, but it had gone wrong instantly. He’d been knocked out and they’d had to walk home. Before he’d even got out of Hospital Alicia had been killed in another scout. He’d been warned to keep his behaviour “either sensible or profitable”. Long John continued. “Aubrey told me last time that you had some concerns that you weren’t pulling your weight. Says you started taking stupid risks?” Russ nodded ruefully. “Hilda was making all the running and we never seemed to get any action. The bets we’d managed was a low paintball placing… we are looking solid for a third place this time…” He trailed off. They’d spoken all about this last time. Long John waited, nodding while refilling his drink. He set it down untouched and addressed the nervous ganger. “I guess that is all water under the bridge. I spoke again to him recently. Seems to me that everyone in this damn gang has decided to play at soldiers. I notice he’s been taking a rental out himself on occasion. I also notice that he carries a passenger…” Russ swallowed. Here it comes. “Seems like that passenger has learned his trade some. Distinguished himself even, securing surrendered vehicles and even ensuring their surrender. Not just Aubrey either, our recent veteran member was most complimentary. Went so far as to suggest this passenger may have just tipped the balance while the fight was still hot. Other gangs have noticed him.” Long John picked up his glass and settling back into his seat he took another unhealthy slug of it. Russ was non-plussed, he’d been expecting admonishment, but he wasn’t sure where this was going. He waited anxiously to Long John to speak again leaning forward in his seat. “Seems to me a fella of that calibre has a right to feel some pride, maybe he should have some recognition. Nothin’ sentimental just something that shows his extra effort has been noticed.” Long John fished in his top pocket and tossed a cloth patch onto the table. On it the word “Dragon Captain” had been neatly hand embroidered in red and yellow thread inside a border of flames. “Time was, an’ I am talking when we had only horses, mounted infantry carried short guns, bein’ more handy an all. The these guns were prone to spit fire due to their construction, throwing out burning powder or suchlike, so they were called Dragons, and so too were the men that used them. Aubrey tells me that was the origin of the word Dragoon. He may be right, don’t make no never mind in truth.” Long John looked up and caught Russ’ eye. “Wraiths haven’t had Dragoons before. You are the first. That also makes you in charge… it ain’t a badge or a reward, it’s a job. Pick it up and you accept that. You will be responsible for any dragoons you choose to accept into your company, what they do and what happens to them.” Russ picked up the badge, brushing it gently with his hand. “It means you’ll be responsible for makin’ sure they earn their keep. Then again, from what Aubrey tells me, that ain’t going be an issue in your case is it.” Russ looked up a little stunned. Not sure what to say he stared dumbly at John as he rose. John picked up the bottle and looked the half inch of tawny liquid in the bottom. Tucking it into a pocket he stumped towards the exit. He turned just before the door and smiled at Russ who was beginning to realise the change in his situation. “I’ll expect your report in the morning... Captain.” ......................... vet wv raceL1 deathrceL1 Posted Sep 14, 2012, 6:21 pm

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