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When hope fades..."abandon all hope."

Fealty Lost Slaughterhouse: Bloody Remains Darkwind Guru Renegade Group: Subscribers Posts: 1,258 Joined: Jan 6, 2009 Dan "Bunny" O'Hare pushed in through the doors to the Firelight Tavern, which was the last place he'd ever wanted to see in all the places that were Evan. But, here he was. Fate was a fickle bitch. He'd left two long-time friends on the bloody sands of "The Pit" this last week. His first impulse was to walk in through the doors and just open up on the scum that existed here, far from what was considered 'civilized' society. They served no purpose but for pain to others and their twisted sense of 'pleasure.' This place made him understand why the 'olds' did what they did to get rid of enemies. If those weapons still existed, he'd suggest this place as 'ground zero.' But here he was. Left arm in a cast, courtesy of a big, now dead, mutant cat of some kind. His buddy Bumgarner lay in the hovel they'd all crawled into after being 'released' from servitude, entertaining the psychologically-deviant trash that found gladiatorial fights a fun way to spend a Friday night; both eats ripped off his head after one of those big cats tried to swallow him whole. One of the new gangers for Slaughterhouse, Mary Haugen, didn't think he was going to make it. The proprietors of The Pit had dragged his body out after the fight thinking he was dead. They'd gone to pay their respects when suddenly he'd coughed up a big spit ball of bloody phlegm. They'd picked him up as gently as they could and carried him to their 'bolt hole,' a bombed out building more home to rats and other vermin than humans...or what passed for humans, here. Mary, herself, was pretty chewed up: literally. She'd jumped into try and save Gary "Bummer" (an apt nickname) Bumgarner when that big, scary kitty had nearly eaten him and she got a nasty bite across one shoulder and her neck. She was lucky she hadn't been one of the dragged out at the end of that fight. He entertained the scenario that maybe she and Gary had 'hooked up' at some time-hence her maniacal attempt to save him. Meh, not his problem. Right now, they needed the hell out of here. Hence his predicament. The only way out would be to enlist the help of one or more of the trash that lived here. He knew there was, occasionally, an actual ride service that ventured out and back between the truck stops and Firelight, but he wasn't sure he and his crew could survive another week stuck in this irradiated hell. Bumgardner sure wouldn't. So he walked to the bulletin board familiar to every tavern in Evan and stuck up his badly-scrawled notice: Four for BL or GW or even points North. Can pay in 3xv8 salvage engines and a pair of 100% 5L's right here in FL. Leave name and vehicle name here. We'll find you. He felt the eyes of the diseased, mutated and soon-to-be-mutated staring at him, sizing him up. To his utter disgust, he saw...midgets...the single most grotesque creatures ever shat out a surely-decrepit vagina, staring at him, making lewd gestures as if they were trying to sell him something he wouldn't want without a bullet accompanying the thought. This place needed another cleansing. Maybe someday. But not today. He eased the safety of his sub-gun back on as he left the place and shivered inwardly at the images of the low-lifes that littered the place like rats. ......................... vet wv Posted May 4, 2020, 1:29 pm

Fealty Lost Slaughterhouse: Bloody Remains Darkwind Guru Renegade Group: Subscribers Posts: 1,258 Joined: Jan 6, 2009 "I don't think he's going to last another day," Mary said, whispering to Dan "Bunny" O'Hare, the 'leader' of the retinue from Slaughterhouse Bath and Lodgin' who were captured and sold into slavery on a bad return trip to Elmsfield. They'd mostly survived the Gladiator combats but had lost a long-standing member of Slaughterhouse and a rookie to the mutated creatures they'd been forced to fight and kill for 'entertainment.' "We've got to get food and water. I can't do anything with this busted wing," O'Hare replied. "I can try and get work at the garage," chimed in Joshua Humphries, another rookie recruit who was definitely 'earning his stripes' early. "I'm no pro but I know how not to lose a 10mm socket." He smiled at his own joke. "Alright, yeah, sure kid." O'Hare answered. "You go give that a shot. Here...take my jacket. Last thing you want to do is look like a newb' walking around this hell-hole." The kid took the leather jacket and slipped it on. "Pretty good fit." "Keep your gat' handy and try not to look scared." O'Hare added. "Copy that, Top," the kid replied, nodded in respect and crawled his way out of the collapsed building. Mary watched him walk off. "...um...I might be able t-..." "No. No." O'Hare said, forehead wrinkling as he gave her the 'stink eye.' "Don't even think about it." She dropped her eyes from his and turned back to Bumgarner, who lay still, low moans occasionally escaping from between his swollen lips. Hell of a gal you got there, "Bummer," O'Hare thought to himself. Humphries walked with his back as straight as he could and his shoulders squared, trying to look like the bad ass he wasn't. He was a stranger to the pestilent scum of this half-a-town and stares were aimed his way as he walked along, the vermin sizing him up. He heard a few say something something Slaughterhouse something...the crucified skeleton hanging from a Pentagram that signified his 'crew' showing on the leather jacket's back. A few minutes of walking and he saw and heard the garage. He walked up to the counter and looked straight at the big guy behind the counter. He was about to speak when the...man?...beat him to it. "So, you slaughterhouse pukes finally coming to claim your ride, huh?" the dirty, grease-encrusted person in too-big overalls said, looking down on the kid. "...'bout damn time. You're just lucky you been paying your storage." He turned and opened up a rusted box hanging from the wall. In it were several sets of keys. He picked one out, turned, tossed it to the kid. Joshua nearly fumbled the key but played it off. The big guy didn't notice, he was digging something out of a drawer. He tossed a sheet of yellowed paper down in front of the kid. Made an "X" by a horizontal line at the bottom of the paper. "Make yer mark here." he pointed at the line. Joshua slid the paper around and saw it was a property release form. He picked up the pencil and signed his name. "Oooo...kid can write. Look at the big brain on him!" the mutie said, baring a set of fangs as he smiled. "...'round back. Ya can't miss it." The key had a tag with a number. Joshua walked out and around back of the large building, where various rigs were being worked on. There were the normal and then there was a McFly. Holy ####, he thought. Look at that! He hesitated for a moment, then walked on. Who the hell would have one of those down here? What a waste. As he rounded the corner, skirted what passed as a security fence and walked into the 'storage lot,' he saw a leaning sign with a matching number scrawled onto it. He stopped in his tracks. "Oh, great." he said to nobody. "This just keeps getting better and better." He shook his head and walked up to the tanker truck. He turned his head as he heard gravel crunching and the big mutant from behind the counter came walking over. "She'll start. We keep the batteries charged...run 'em up every now and then." He said, Joshua guessed, with a certain pride in his voice. "Go ahead, climb in. She'll start." it repeated. Joshua unlocked the driver's side door then climbed up and into the cab. It was dusty but clean. Looked 'new.' He looked for the ignition, found it and inserted the key. He looked up to see the big thing staring at him, waiting. It nodded. Showed its fangs again. Was that a smile? Joshua remembered his Dad's old semi-tractor. Dad ran food and water to the truck stops in it, pulling a box trailer. Clutch in. Gear shift in neutral...he grabbed the shift lever and wiggled it left and right as he'd seen his Dad do, checking it was out of gear. Turned the key. The dash lights lit up. He watched the speed and RPM gauge arms sweep an arc, tag out, then sweep back to zero. Voltage meter showed 15 amps. He turned the key and depressed the accelerator. He felt the truck move as something big sucked air and fuel and shot fire into the mix. Six massive cylinders lit off in ordered sequence and the big engine roared to life. The big guy laughed. "Told ya!" he roared. The kid nodded to him. He stepped out of the way and made a grand gesture, sweeping his arm and bowing slightly, pointing to the gate. ####, the kid thought. He was going to have to move the tanker. Fuel tanks showed full. He wondered about the tank in the rear. Did it have anything in it? It would be harder to get going if it did. He looked at the shift lever. 10-speed. He looked at the dash. There, under the airbrake handles he saw a shift-pattern sticker, worn but legible. He moved the lever left and felt it 'hit the gate,' as his Dad had explained, once. Joshua hadn't been very interested. Now he wished he'd paid more attention. He pulled more to the left and felt the shifter slip past the tension. He moved it back towards himself. The transmission 'clunked.' The truck jerked slightly forward. "Let the torque take it up," he remembered his Dad saying. "Ease the clutch out, don't let it drop out." So Joshua eased his foot up off the floor, feeling the pressure of the clutch against the bottom of his boot...felt the transmission 'catch' and the big rig eased forward. He slipped the clutch all the way out and knew, immediately, that the tanker behind him was full. He felt the liquid surge backwards, slam against the back of the tank and the truck nearly stalled. Joshua mashed the accelerator. He knew what was coming next. All that whatever-it-was in the tank coming to say hello. He'd laughed as a kid, feeling the liquid surging back and forth in the tank, yanking him forward in the straps when it went back and slamming him into the seat as it came forward. He remembered his Dad joining in the laughter. A rare moment they'd gotten to share. As the surge came forward, he popped the clutch in, shifted to neutral, let it out, shoved it back in and shifted to second. The truck jumped forward. He looked up and saw the building coming. He grabbed the big wheel with both hands and spun it left. The truck turned. He hoped it looked like he knew what he was doing. He got through the fence without tearing anything off and shifted up another gear and pointed the big, square nose in the direction of their hide out. Bumgarner would sleep in the bunk that was behind him, in the cab, tonight. No hard, cold ground. He wondered, again, what might be in the tank. Fuel? Water? Either way, he was pretty sure he could sell some of it off to buy medicine and blankets for them all. He sat up straighter. O'Hare was going to be surprised. ......................... vet wv Posted May 5, 2020, 2:16 am

Fealty Lost Slaughterhouse: Bloody Remains Darkwind Guru Renegade Group: Subscribers Posts: 1,258 Joined: Jan 6, 2009 "He's stopped shivering, finally." Mary said. "You saved him, Joshua." It was a simple statement. Joshua smiled at her. She was covered in stitches across one shoulder and her neck where one of the mutant cats they had fought against in The Pit, as gladiator-slaves, only recently. She had been caring for one of the veteran gang members of Slaughterhouse Bath and Lodging who had also been captured but had not fared as well in the arena. Joshua hadn't seen it, but the other ganger in the tanker truck with them, "Bunny" O'Hare, who'd suffered a broken arm, had said he had seen Gary "Bummer" Bumgarner jump in front of one of the big cats as it tried to attack Mary. He'd been mauled. Nobody thought he'd make it. He was unconscious for over two weeks. Only recently had he begun having a few waking moments that lapsed quickly back into unconsciousness. Joshua had been lucky. The tanker was full of fuel and while it wasn't at a premium the hell out here in the middle of nowhere...which, to him, made ZERO sense at all; he'd been able to sell off some of it to the scumbags that thrived in this irradiated hell-hole waste of a town. It had allowed him to purchase clothing and blankets and food. Sure, it was a bit cramped with four of them in the cab of the big truck, one laid out in the sleeper bunk, but it beat lying on the cold ground in a bombed out building they'd found after being released from The Pit, having fought and won enough to have earned their freedom. Mary had stepped up and was, it seemed, a natural-born leader. But they still didn't have a way out of FireLight. All they had was a big truck full of "gazzoline" and a desire to get the hell out and back North to civilization. They hadn't been able to get any sort of message back to their gang who, for all intent and purpose, probably thought they'd 'bought it' when their convoy of salvage vehicles had been jumped and shot out from under them. He counted himself lucky, considering the alternative, that they'd been dragged here and thrown into gladiator combat. It had been horrifying but he and they were still alive. They'd lost two of their own to the mutated atrocities that had been unleashed on them in The Pit, to entertain the perverse denizens of this trash heap of a town, but the four of them still lived and despite injuries, were improving. He'd started quite the enterprise, selling off fuel from the truck. There were 'regulars,' who started driving their rigs right up to the rig, where Joshua filled them for a cut-rate price...but not too cut-rate. He knew he couldn't keep it up forever. The rig only held about 11-1200 gallons. But the good of that was most combat rigs had smallish fuel cells: just in case of fire. The smaller the fuel tank, the smaller the chance of going 'kaboom!' He smiled, thinking about it. But his smile faded, because the only vehicle they had to challenge the roads of the wasteland that stretched between FL and the Northern towns of Somerset and Elmsfield, where he was sure the rest of Slaughterhouse were, was the tanker. Alone, well, all they'd end up was a really, REALLY big 'kaboom!' of their own. Even with escorts it was a risky trip. They'd put the word out they were looking for an armed traveling squad to help them get North. No takers, yet. There'd been a few inquiries. Dan O'Hare had learned that besides the tanker being held all this time by the mech' shop; that Slaughterhouse had operated a small contingency in FL for a very short time that had managed to gather up some decent equipment that had been kept in a secure storage facility on the west side of town. He heard a vehicle pulling up and looked out the window to see it was one of his 'regulars,' a couple 'normals' who hunted around Firelight because, as they put it: "You can kill ya some muties and nobody says any'fing." He crawled down out of the cab and walked back to the pump. 5 short minutes later and the pair were slapping him on the back and handing him some cash. "You ain't no Trumpet, that's for sure." the biggest of the pair had said. "You gots ya a nice little operation here." When he climbed back into the tanker, he asked O'Hare what it meant, not being a "Trumpet." "Well," O'Hare had begun, from what I heard when I was a kid, in the 'before times,' when all the lands were ruled by huge gangs, there were two who were the biggest: the "Dummyhats" and the "Retardigans." "Now, the Dummy' gang were way smarter than the Retard' gang, but they were always having to fight to see who was going to be in charge of all the best loot spots." Joshua leaned back against the door and Mary curled her legs up under her to listen. "Before Times" stories were the only way they learned anything about what this world had been. When the Elders talked, you listened, because you might one day have to tell the stories, if you lived long enough. O'Hare continued. "So, eventually they reached a deal. There'd be some contest or another where the best of each side would go at it and whoever won their side would be in charge for like, 4 or 8 years depending on how good they won the contest. But even that caused fights. Not big ones, but little ones all over the land, because the Retards' were way outnumbered by the Dummies, but they weren't nowhere near as smart. They was pretty stupid, in fact. Every time their side was in charge, everything went to ####. Because they weren't all that bright, they kept trying the same stuff that had messed up the last time, over and over and over. They kept saying "It'll work this time!" ...of course it didn't. Then the Dummyhats would win and have to fix everything the Retards messed up." "That doesn't make any sense." Joshua said. "If everyone knew that the Retards just messed things up because they were stupid and kept doing the same things over and over and over, why didn't the Dummyhats just take over?" "Ah...there it is." O'Hare chuckled. "Well, from what I've learned, the Dummyhats were smart, but they didn't like fighting much. Oh, they'd do it if they had to and when they got mad, they were REAL good at it. But they'd rather sit home and think about new things they could try next time they were in charge, while the Retardigans went out and made cults and babies like it was a mission and then made them babies into cultists too, you know, like those whore nuns you see sometimes selling they asses? Only these cults were about guns and keeping women from using abbreviations. Nobody knows why. Seems like a pretty stupid thing to get all high and mighty about. But they were. I mean, like crazy high and mighty. If you didn't join their cult they killed ya. That's a fact." Mary crossed her arms over her chest. "But I like abbreviations. I'm glad I have the choice whether I want to use them or not. That's not fair, people thinking they can force their believes on other people. No wonder they was fightin' all the time." "You're a smart girl, Mary." O'Hare said. "You'd have been a good Dummyhat." They all laughed at that one. O'Hare continued. "So, eventually, after a long time, the rat-like breeding habits of the Retardigans gave them more gangers. Still not as many as the Dummyhats, but a lot more than before. And the Retardigans, while not being very bright...or not bright at all, were sneaky, like wasteland bugs. When you least expected them...BAM! ...they come from nowheres!" Mary jumped and giggled. Joshua was rapt. "So, the Retardigans were real good cheaters. There was supposed to be a small gang that was made up of people from both gangs who decided arguments, so there wasn't always people killing each other over stupid things, like abbreviations. But the Retards' managed to twist the way people was picked and they got more Retards' in the gang than Dummies. And they was always running around screaming about Eminents as doormans. They said Eminents were leaving their doors to sneak out and tell lies and take things belonging to Retards so they could get more stuff for the big fight every 4 or 8 years, saying it was the Dummyhats who cheated, when all along everyone knew it was the Retards." O'Hare paused, sniffed and cleared his throat. "I ain't told all this in a long time. Forgot how tiring it can be." He reached for a canteen and took a long swallow of water. "Okay, so, "Trumpet." One time during those fights they had every now and then to see who would be in charge, the Retardigans couldn't find nobody worth a ant's piss to fight for them. The Dummyhats had a strong fighter. The Retards knew they was doomed and the Dummies would be in charge again, which they had for the previous 8 years, so strong had their last fighter been." Joshua jumped in with a question. "Was it the same fighter they were putting in the pit?" "No, it wasn't. They had a rule said if you winned for 8 years and really wupped the other side bad, that guy couldn't fight again." "Oh," Joshua said. "Seems to me you'd want to keep using that one!" "I agree, Joshua, but they did that rule so not one guy could take over. So both sides...even a stupid side...could get their chance at being in charge." Joshua nodded his head. "I guess that makes sense." O'Hare continued. "So, these two gangs, while big, weren't the only gangs. They had the best territory, that's true, but there were other gangs out there with smart leaders like the Dummyhats had. One of them was a leader named Put-in Rusky. Nobody knows how he got that nick' or what his first name was. His gang was all but wiped out in the End Times. But anyways, Rusky was smart and sneaky, like he was part Dummy' and part Retard'!" O'Hare leaned forward. "That made him a dangerous leader. His gang might not have been as big, but he was real good at being sneaky and he could talk stupid people into anything." "You mean, kinda like that midget gang's leader? You know the one?" "Oh, him, yeah. Rusky could talk people into things but his things were smart. He could make good plans. So he planned to make the Dummyhats and the Retardigans fight each other so they'd get weak and he could come in and take over. So, he found the most stupid man he could and gave him lots of money so he'd look like he knew what he was doing and made him the fighter for the Retards by convincing their leaders that his guy was their only hope. And because the Retards weren't very bright at all, they fell for it. Even though this guy they wanted to fight for them had run away from every fight, ever and had once even pretended to be hurt so he wouldn't have to fight for his gang when they was all fighting another gang and it was widely known he had a thing for little girls...which the Retards supposedly hated: they picked him because Put-in Rusky was THAT good at convincing stupid people to do what he wanted. The guy's name was Trumpet. And despite being everything the Retards hated, they put him in the fight. But they made sure they did their best cheating ever, helped by that sneaky Put-in guy and Trumpet won. Everyone was surprised, even the Retards." He paused again. His audience was leaning forward, engrossed in his story. He was glad he'd remembered it all. "And then?" Mary queried. "What happened?" "Well, the Retards were in charge again and they immediately started screwing things up. The leaders made rules so they could steal the money from everyone in both gangs and because Put-in Rusky was telling their leader, Trumpet, what to say...which was all lies...the Retards believed it all. The Dummyhats knew it was all lies, but the Retards had been extra sneaky with Put-in's help and they had more people in the law group than the Dummyhats. So when they wanted another stupid rule, they got it. And they took the best rules and made them not rules, so they could make even more stupid rules and take more money from everyone. And then, because the most stupid people were now in charge, everything started to fall apart. Everyone was getting sick because Retards hate science and logic and reason and smart things, so they killed all the sciencey people and burned all the books and other smart things and people just kept getting more stupid until their leader said the wrong thing to the wrong leader of another big gang outside their territory and the End Times happened. The bombs fell and killed almost everything." He knew he was leaving out a whole bunch of stuff the Retardigans and their buddy Put-in Rusky had done that caused the fall, but it was getting late and he was tired. He was still recovering. "Wow." Joshua said. "So, not being a Trumpet IS a good thing!" "Without a doubt, Joshua, without a doubt. Only a Retardigan would think it was." They all laughed at the absurdity. ......................... vet wv Posted May 9, 2020, 10:41 pm

Fealty Lost Slaughterhouse: Bloody Remains Darkwind Guru Renegade Group: Subscribers Posts: 1,258 Joined: Jan 6, 2009 They couldn't wait any longer. Their crew surely thought them dead. None of their messages had gotten through...either the messengers hadn't made it, or they'd taken their payment and laughed to themselves and then to their pals, later. The radiation was eating away at them. None of them wanted to surrender their humanity as had the many defectives that habitated this hellhole of a town. Their only ride was the Tanker. The mechs' at the garage wouldn't even take a bet as to their chances. They'd reinforced the chassis and added 2,000 lbs of steel to the front of the big gas hauler. Anything met with the front end of the tanker would cease to exist as anything except scrap. Weapons for the rear had been a tougher problem. There were limited options in the local markets. Most equipment was out of their range. So they went with what they had. None of them were under any illusion. It would be a miracle if they survived. Joshua smiled at his companions. Gary "Bummer" Bumgarner behind the wheel caught his eyes in the rearview. He nodded. Mary Haugen sat next to him, cradling an ancient M-4 rifle. A shotgun was taped to the ceiling above her head. If she had to pull that...well. Dan O'Hare climbed into the rear of the cab next to Joshua. "Well...at least we won't have to eat rat anymore." They all laughed. When had they had rat? Mary wondered. Best not to think about it. Besides, that was the least of her worries. ......................... vet wv Posted May 18, 2020, 9:33 pm

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